Devoured (Devoured, #1)(33)

“Sam Adams,” Lucas says in a very deep voice that makes me give a tiny snort.

Jessica grins, bows her back a little and tilts her head trying to get a good view of his face. When he tucks his chin closer to his chest, she purses her lips and stalks off.

“This isn’t going to work.” I warn him and he glances up at me.

“Well, no. It typically never does.”

Feeling my temperature rise, I study him. He’s so full of contradictions. One minute he’s talking about wanting peace and quiet and the next he’s craving the adoration that comes with his world, his fame. It’s enough to make my head dizzy. When I gather up the courage and say this to him, he grins.

“I just wanted enough peace to finish my solo project and I’ve—” His voice breaks off and he traces a heart that someone has carved into the table.

“You’ve what?”

Snapping his hazel eyes up, he tells me in a barely controlled voice, “I’ve written enough goddamn material on it the past few days for two or three albums.”

“Ah . . . I see.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

Confused and tired of playing a game of words with him, I change the subject back to his reasons for wanting to come here tonight. “So why risk being noticed and groped by your fangirls just to see a cover band?”

“You never Googled it, I see.”

I shake my head. “It wasn’t a direct order, sir.”

His face breaks out into a smile and he tilts his head back and laughs. It’s one of those full-bodied expressions that sends warmth pouring into my belly. “God you’re so frustrating it’s f*cking with my head.” He regains control, slumping down in his chair and getting an unfocused look in his eyes. “When I was in high school, me and Sinjin Fields and Wyatt McCrae had this god-awful cover band. It was how we were discovered eventually—us and Cilla.”

Cilla. Why do I feel a pang of jealousy every time I hear or see her name? It’s ridiculous because I’ve never met her—all I know is that she and Lucas are friends. What exactly the word “friend” entails I’m not sure nor do I think I ever want to find out.

“So you’re here to discover Jessica’s boyfriend?” I question.

He shrugs, and corrects me, “I’m here to say I appreciate them.” Then his eyebrows knot together. “But I’ve got to admit, they’re really f*cking awesome and I don’t mind dropping their names to a few of my contacts.”

Lucas’s drink slides across the table and he looks up, meeting Jessica’s curious stare. “I knew it was you,” she whispers excitedly. She plops down in the chair beside me, directly across from him. I watch fascinated because she’s on the verge of salivating and her eyes are practically glittering under the dim lights.

“Before or after you eavesdropped on the last minute of what we were saying?” he demands, taking a giant swig of his beer.

Jessica’s naturally tan skinned flushes but then she quickly regains composure. “Sorry about that, but. . . . Dude, you’re Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe. You’re in my parents bar and sitting at table with me and I’m about to freak out.” The way she says his name, whispering it reverently brings out the panty-slaying smile. Turning to me, Jessica says in an accusing voice, “You didn’t tell me you know him.”

“He’s my boss,” I murmur.

“Your work involves going out to bars with him at 10 at night. Ugh . . . I need to become a wardrobe person. I’m in the wrong field, I—” Then she bites her bottom lip. “You’re going to play, right?”

“Wait, he’s—” I start but Lucas shoots me a warning stare.

“Fuck yeah.”

I’ve got no other choice but follow them as they weave their way through the crowd toward the front of the bar where the band is rocking out to “Lucky You’re Wasted.” Jessica bounces on the balls of her feet as she waits impatiently for them to finish up. When they’re through, she waves the bassist over to her. He bends his head, attempting to brush his lips across her lips but she shakes her head, too excited to deal with her boyfriend. I watch as her lips move rapidly and she gestures over to me and Lucas.

His eyes widen—and I swear to this—at least three sides. After he gets over the momentary disbelief, he nods and crosses the stage to have a powwow with the rest of the band. At some point, I can clearly hear one of them say “Holy f*cking yes.”

The crowd’s going crazy at this point, wondering what’s up, if the band is calling it quits early but then the lead singer saunters back up to the microphone. He’s grinning and his voice is shaking as he gives Lucas the only introduction someone like him needs: “It’s the real Lucas-f*cking-Wolfe, people!”

For a moment, everyone in the audience is utterly unclear of what’s going on and they’re hushed, murmuring among themselves. But as Lucas strides across stage, taking the lead’s guitar and bowing his head graciously, the silence turns from confused to stunned. Lucas calls out “All Over You” and then the hell-raising guitar intro begins.

Nicky, the giant grumpy doorman, and another bouncer who Jessica says keeps watch over the bar make their way to the stage, but none of Lucas’s fans tries to bum rush him or anything. Everyone’s too entranced by the music, myself included.