The waiter returned to her table. Early twenties, tall, camera ready . . . he was yummy in all the right places. “Another wine?”

“I shouldn’t.” She was driving.

“How about some fresh bread to go with the second glass?” He flirted with his smile.

“If you insist.”

She checked out his ass as he walked away.

He returned a couple of minutes later and poured from an open bottle. “I’m sorry about the cork.”

She glanced at the glass. “What cork?”

He winked. “The cork that accidentally managed to slip into your drink. I’ll have to comp this for you.”

“Ah, that’s very nice . . .” She glanced at his name tag. “Norman . . .” She tried not to laugh. “Your name is Norman?”

“Blame my parents.”

“Well, thank you.”

She nibbled on the bread, drank the wine, and checked her e-mail while lifting her gaze every once in a while to see if Norman was watching her.

The next time he came to the table, he didn’t ask if she wanted another glass of wine. “I get off at six.”

Damn it . . .

She needed to get back on the highway. There was still so much to do at Trina’s house. This was a job. One she was actually going to get paid to do.

Norman, the booty call, wasn’t on the schedule.

“I’m going to have to pass.” Adulting sucked! “Work.”

“What if I gave you my number?”

She smiled. “I don’t live in town, but I do visit often.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Avery waltzed out of Bergdorf Goodman with an energy she didn’t have walking in. She’d spent the morning conducting business. Real business. Had a little mostly liquid lunch that resulted in a phone number and a promise. Apparently she could be a proper adult and pick up a hottie, even if his name was Norman.

She buzzed through a portion of Central Park in an effort to work off any of the liquor she’d consumed. She hadn’t finished that last glass of wine, even though she’d been tempted to do so.

Adulting.

She was adulting, damn it.

The hour to hit the freeway and avoid the bulk of traffic fast approached, so she made her way to the parking garage. As she did, she checked her phone for messages.

Nothing.

Which had started to bug her. With all of the male attention she found, there wasn’t anyone who took the effort to check on her just to see if she was okay. Even her parents didn’t bother with any real consistency. Only her new friends filled that void. Lori would call when she was in town, or stop by for a glass of wine. Avery knew she was the one to most often sneak up on Lori and Reed and invite herself over for a drink or dinner. The advantage of living in the same building.

Shannon had started calling her on occasion, although the two of them didn’t hang out as much as they probably should. Maybe the conservative nature of Shannon would rub off on Avery if she spent more time with the woman. If anyone knew how to adult, it was Shannon. The woman still played the part of political wife several years after the marriage was over.

But Trina was Avery’s go-to. They were alike in so many ways.

She clicked on her messages and pulled up Trina’s name.

I know you’re in the middle of the big party, just dropping a note to say that everything in NY went well. Fedor liked really expensive things.

She glanced up, saw her car, and fished for the keys in the bottom of her mom bag while she texted with one thumb.

En route to the house so call if you need to talk. Texting and driving in NY is just asking for trouble.

Avery pressed send at the same time something huge smashed into her side and threw her onto the pavement.

Her first thought was that she’d walked into something, or because she was on her phone, she’d become one of those YouTube videos of distracted people walking into a pond. But then she saw a boot coming toward her face, and she realized this wasn’t an accident.

She tried to move, covered her head.

Never in her life had Avery been kicked. The pain was unimaginable. She tasted warm salt in her mouth as she cowered on the ground.

Roll away!

Do something!

She tried, only her body was a heavy, solid mass that needed to lose a hundred pounds. When the next hit came, she lost the ability to think about anything.

Chapter Seventeen

“There you are.” Finding his way back to Trina’s side was like swimming through a sea of fans that found the exit door from the stage to his limo. Even his friends didn’t understand that he wanted his attention somewhere else.

As for Jordyn, the woman didn’t understand the words we’re over.

“There is someone here with me,” he’d told her.

“I heard,” Jordyn had said, looking over his shoulder.

Wade attempted to block her gaze in case Trina felt it.

Jordyn leaned in close . . . too close. “It’s okay, baby. We all have to have our diversions.”

“That’s not how it is.”

At that point, his mother joined the conversation to discuss how Jordyn was talking with a record label of her own, and wasn’t that exciting?

Wade stood there for a solid five minutes, trying to keep things nice, and when he turned around, Trina was out of his sight.

It took thirty minutes and a dozen conversations before he found her. At that point, he beelined in her direction to find her sitting on a straw bale, talking to Jeb.

He waved off a distant cousin and sat on the straw beside her.

“Hey,” she said with a genuine smile.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk across this yard with this many people?” he asked.

Trina shook her head. “Wasn’t hard for me . . . Jeb?”

“Never an issue.”

Wade reached over and took the beer Trina was holding and tilted it back.

She smiled but didn’t comment.

He realized two things at the same time. First, he liked that they had the comfort of sharing a coffee, or a beer, and second . . . the beer was nearly full and kinda warm. Trina had grabbed the beer to blend but had no intention of actually drinking it.

Somehow, that made him grin even more.

He scooted closer and didn’t bother handing the beer back.

“How did that go?” Jeb nodded toward the direction of Jordyn and his mother.

“Fine . . . it went fine.”

Trina lowered her chin and didn’t blink.

Wade coughed up the truth. “She’s having a hard time letting go.”

“Not surprising,” Jeb offered.

“Why is that?” Trina asked.

“She’s a singer wanting a record deal. Wade has a reputation with plenty of influence. There’s a lot of people wanting something out of him.”

“Like Jerry?”

Wade turned toward Trina.

“Sorry,” she retracted.

He sat up taller, narrowed his attention.

“He’s my agent, he’s invested.”

“Of course.”

Yeah, there was something in her eyes that told him there was more to her statement.

From the other side of the yard, the amplifier on the small stage let the crowd know that the music was about to begin. Up until that moment, a mix track of popular country music had been playing. Everything except Wade’s music, which was always his request when his mother planned events like this one.

“Welcome, everybody.” Vicki stepped to the microphone and grabbed the guests’ attention. “I just wanted to give a big thank y’all for joining us. It’s seldom my famous son is home and even more rare to have his attention when he is. Where are you, Wade?”

“Oh, geez.”

Trina took her beer back and pushed him off the straw.

People around them parted so that he could have a direct route to the stage.

He stood and reached out his hand to Trina.

She started to shake her head but he didn’t give her a chance. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “C’mon. They won’t bite.”

“There you are,” his mother said.

He started up the stairs to the stage, and Trina dug her heels in. Instead of forcing her up with him, he lifted a finger, asking her to stay close, and let her go. He kissed his mother’s cheek and took the mic. “Howdy.”

A chorus of similar greetings were shouted back at him. “It sure is nice to be home, did y’all miss me?”

Familiar faces laughed and a couple of his older friends shouted out no.

“I heard that, Ike.”

Two of Wade’s stage crew patted Ike on the back.

“I have such a blessed life to have the opportunity to go on tour and see so many places in this big, beautiful world, but coming home is always the best. Especially when I know everyone here is going to let me be myself and not try and get something out of me.”

“Except the free beer,” someone shouted.

Lots of hands went up, waving bottles in agreement.

Wade laughed.

He caught Trina smiling up from the steps of the stage.

“I’d like y’all to say hi to my friend Trina.”

She offered a timid wave to the crowd.

“She looks a little fancy for you,” someone yelled.

“Oh, she is. Trust me. I’m the lucky one.”

Trina’s face turned bright red. Her eyes pleaded with him to stop. His mother wasn’t as subtle. “We should probably let the band play, don’t you think?”