15 Minutes (Time for Love 4)

“On stage?”

I nodded but didn’t explain.

“Hang around, watch the show … I’ll find you after.” I could tell she was ready to bolt, so I gave her one last shove, lowering my voice to say, “Just give me fifteen minutes, Victoria. Fifteen minutes and I’ll convince you to give this a shot.” I gestured between the two of us as I spoke. When she opened her mouth, I put a finger up to silence her. “No illusions, Tori. I know you’ve probably never been with a man like me, but don’t worry, I’m not offended. I don’t expect you to fall in love and take me home to meet Daddy.” Her eyebrow cocked again and I laughed; damn, but she sure was a spoiled brat.

I leaned down once more, my voice low and rough in her ear, and said, “No strings, no expectations, just pure pleasure.” I stood and finished with, “I’ll see you after the show.” Then turned to find my brothers. I was in the mood to rock the house.

Chapter 2 – Victoria

There was no way in hell I was sticking around to see what Brock had up his sleeve. I’d never said more than two words to him before tonight, and I had no idea what made him speak to me that way. To touch me that way. It was disconcerting.

I looked around for my sister, inadvertently flinching a bit when my eyes swooped over the table where Gaby and her friends were sitting. Drinking and laughing. Having a good time like always. Even when I’d been an invited guest to their soirees, I’d always felt like an outsider.

When I’d been dating, and then engaged to, Scott, none of his friends had bothered to hide the fact that they didn’t like me. The truth was, I’d never made an effort to get to know any of them, figuring Scott would eventually outgrow them. I’d acted like their opinions of me didn’t matter, but the fact that they took every possible opportunity to tell Scott that he shouldn’t marry me, had hurt.

After the first time he’d broken off our engagement, I knew it would only be a matter of time before he’d listen to their chatter, and break it off again. Scott was weak where his friends were concerned, and they had a much deeper grasp on him than I’d ever imagined.

“Victoria,” my sister voice said from behind me, pulling me out of my musings. I turned with a smile, the smile falling when I saw what she was wearing.

“Abigail … That outfit is indecent,” I replied, my voice low but stern. Abigail was wearing a shorter than short jean skirt, with a ripped T-shirt that said Whiskey Heat across the chest. Her hair was short and spikey, and her face was heavily done up with makeup.

“Calm down,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “I’m kind of seeing the lead singer … so, I’m advertising.”

“Kind of seeing? The lead singer of what?” I asked, my distaste obvious. Abigail and I couldn’t have been more different if we’d been raised on different continents, rather than different households. When our parents got divorced, she’d stayed with our mother, while I’d gone to live with our father and his new wife.

“Duh … Whiskey Heat,” she said dryly, pointing her finger toward the stage just as an older gentleman who looked like he hadn’t showered in weeks walked up to the microphone.

“Ladies and gentleman, I give you … Whiskey Heat!” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, and I couldn’t stop my gasp when Brock sauntered across the stage. For such a large man, he moved gracefully, and although his scraggy beard and shaggy-on-top hair were not my style, I could admit that he had a certain appeal about him.

Next the drummer came on stage, seemingly unfazed by the screaming adoration of the fans on the floor in front of the stage. Finally, the lead singer, the one Abigail said she was seeing, came out. Full of pomp and circumstance, he was very good-looking, and obviously knew it. The entire crowd of women, including my sister beside me, sighed loudly when he flashed a large grin.

“Abigail.” I turned to her, trying to pull her attention from the stage. “What did you bring me here for?”

Although we hadn’t grown up in the same house, we’d still spent plenty of time together, especially since we became adults. She knew this was not the type of establishment I usually frequented. Even when I was with Scott, if he was going to a bar or sporting event with his friends, I opted to stay home.

Being raised by my father, and Felicia, my stepmother, I was bred for country clubs and charity dinners, not venues that featured all-male rock bands … no matter how handsome they were.

“I wanted you to see Brendan,” she had to yell as the band began to play. “Plus, I thought it would be good for you to get out. You know, get your mind off stuff.”

I controlled the retort that sat on my lips, because I knew she meant well, and instead I leaned in and spoke calmly in her ear.

“If you wanted to get my mind off of stuff, why did you bring me here?” At her look of confusion, I nodded my head in the direction of the door, which Scott had just entered. Abigail’s eyes tracked him from the door, to the table up front, where he tapped Gaby on the shoulder then bent to give her a kiss in greeting.

Abigail’s eyes got round, and I could tell by the look on her face that she felt terrible.

?

?I’m so sorry.” Abigail brought her hand up to touch me, then dropped it when she remembered I didn’t like people touching me. “I had no idea he’d be here.”

I looked over at them once more, my stomach clenching painfully, before I ripped my gaze away and looked back at my sister.

“I know you didn’t. You’d never be that cruel.”

And she wouldn’t. I was the bitch in the family, and Abigail was the sweetheart. Even though she gave our mother heart palpitations with her penchant for bad boys and her love of partying, I knew she was proud of how sweet and charismatic Abigail was. I, on the other hand, never managed to please her.

I leaned in and gave her a quick hug, more for her comfort than my own, then pulled away and pleaded, “Can I meet Brendan another time? Maybe over coffee or something? I can’t stay here.”

The band was in full swing now, and it was getting almost impossible to speak over them, so Abigail nodded her answer.