Take Me for Granted (Take Me #1)(59)

My mind wandered off to the feel of Grant’s arms around me, his mouth against mine, him sliding in and out of me. It had been painful, uncomfortable, and even a little awkward, but it had also been incredible, emotional, overwhelming, and all-consuming.

“Totally worth the wait.”

After my shower, the girls insisted that I wear something nice for the ContraBand show, so I decided on a V-cut blue sweater tucked into a high-waisted Aztec-print skirt with my knee-high black riding boots. I had plans to meet with Grant ahead of time, but the girls decided to walk down to the lodge with me.

Grant had given me vague directions on how to get backstage, so I waved good-bye to my friends and walked around to the back of the building. There was a side entrance with a guy standing nearby, absentmindedly texting on his phone. I wasn’t sure if I should check in with him or not. Grant hadn’t mentioned it. I decided to throw caution to the wind and just pretend like I was supposed to be here. I was sure there were going to be other girls backstage. As little as I wanted to look like some groupie whore, it would probably be easier than explaining myself.

The guy barely glanced up at me as he muttered under his breath, “Who are you here with?”

“ContraBand,” I said stiffly.

“Okay,” he said with a shrug.

Top-notch security. Seriously, top-notch.

I walked through the employee-only door to backstage. Grant had been right. This was nothing like being backstage at The League. The room was massive with enough space for a medium-sized theater production. Band equipment was everywhere from drum sets being assembled to keyboards being wheeled into position to several thousand-dollar guitars lying haphazardly across couches. I knew Grant would never treat his baby so carelessly.

Amidst all the chaos of bands, groupies, and staff, I was somehow supposed to find Grant. My eyes roamed the room, but there were simply too many people for me to pick him out. I shot off a text asking him where he was and then started to wander around the room.

I’d made it halfway when I spotted Miller and McAvoy off in a corner. McAvoy was in a short-sleeved shirt showing off the intricate tattoos that ran up his arm and across his chest. He was flipping his drumstick in one hand and smoking. Miller, as usual, was dressed nicer in a clean polo with his brown hair pushed off his face.

“Hey, guys. Have you seen Grant?” I asked as I approached.

They both turned to look at me.

“We thought he was with you,” Miller said.

“Nope. I left a while ago, and he said he’d meet me here. I haven’t heard from him.”

“Strange,” McAvoy said, looking surprisingly with it today.

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be here already. Vin…well, we expected him to be late but not Grant.”

“Try giving him a ring,” I told them. “I’m going to do another sweep, and I’ll meet you back over here.”

I was lost in thought about Grant being late for the band’s assigned meeting time. He wasn’t a forgetful person. What had held him up?

As these thoughts swirled in my head, a hand reached out to stop me. I turned around and shook the guy off of me.

The last thing I would consider myself was someone who got muddled by a pretty face. I’d held Grant off long enough after all. This guy was rough around the edges with a soul-searching look that made want to do what he asked. He…was beautiful. Straight-out-of-a-magazine, model-worthy beautiful. One look in his green eyes told me he knew it, too. Tall, trim but muscular, perfect skin—probably better skin than me—with flawless tousled hair and full lips. A guy like this made me feel flat and dull.

At least I still had my charming personality.

“Can I help you?” I snapped.

“I think you can.” His eyes shifted to my chest.

I’d worn a low-cut top for Grant, and I suddenly felt exposed. “I really don’t think so.”

I started to walk away, and he cut me off. “You are truly striking with the most incredible lips.”

“Is this a walking Little Red Riding Hood joke?”

That startled him. “No joke. You’re beautiful. Did you want to come meet the rest of my band? I’m certain you’ve heard of us.”

Doubtful. “Nope. Just looking for my boyfriend.”

“Perhaps he shouldn’t have left you unattended.”

“What is this? The seventeenth century?”

The guy laughed again and then stuck out his hand. “I’m Donovan Jenkins. I sing lead in The Drift.”

Oh. Well, damn. I actually did know who they were. Worse yet, I actually liked their latest single.

“Ah…so you have heard of us.”

“I think everyone has heard of you. As nice as it is to meet you, I am really just looking for my boyfriend, Grant McDermott.”

“Oh, Grant?” Donovan asked. “Yeah, he’s cool. He’s hanging out with us.”

“What?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah. Come with me,” Donovan said, slinging an arm across my shoulders.

I shrugged him off again but followed. What would Grant be doing with The Drift?

We rounded a corner, and then Donovan opened a door to a private room. It was like walking into a crowded nightclub. Music was blasting, booze was everywhere, and smoke coated the air, making it nearly impossible to see in the dim lighting. A few girls were dancing on the center table while others were draped across every available space in the room, and a couple was making out in the back corner. I was pretty sure I saw someone snorting a line of coke on the bar.