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The caveman in me wants to track her down, carry her to my bed, and fuck the daylights out of her. Even the thought of it makes me thankful for the guitar on my lap.
“I don’t know who the hell she is. How am I supposed to call her?”
Great. Now I’m irritated and horny.
“All that time outside and you never asked her name?” His lips quirk.
I’m glad he’s so fucking amused. If hope existed in moving from underneath my guitar, I’d hit him with it.
“Don’t be an asshole, of course, I did.”
He says nothing, only lifts an eyebrow expectantly.
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
He throws himself back into his chair. “Holy shit.”
“Shut up, Z.”
I had her phone in the club, but there wasn’t a name listed in her message with Heath. It isn’t exactly conducive in enticing a girl to scroll through her email history in a darkened club.
“She shot you down? You mean after years of watching pussy throw itself at you like bugs on a motherfuckin’ windshield, it took a piece of country ass to shut the great Jagger down?” Zane doubles over in laughter, his blond beard bobbing between his legs as he howls.
“If you can find her, be my guest.” I throw a pick at him and contemplate giving us matching fat lips. “By the way, you’re a cocksucker. Plenty of girls don’t give a piss about me.”
“Not any you’ve wanted, Romeo,” he argues. “You wiggle your dick and pussy magically falls from the sky.”
We stare at each other for a moment and then slide down in our loungers while laughing like adolescents.
Hilarity finally fading, the early morning roars to life as a random car door slams. Sighing, I return raw fingers to my guitar, strumming until Zane’s foot crashes onto my hand.
“Brother, figure out some way to find this girl, or I will.” He motions toward my guitar. “If you don’t fly up that fretboard and shred that guitar proper, I’m gonna take drastic measures to get pussy off your brain and a Dean electric on it.”
I close my eyes. “Z, first of all, get your foot off my baby.”
“Second?”
“No second. Get your fucking foot off before I break it.”
“Unless you stood there with your dick in your hand, I’m sure she said something you can work with.” Standing, Zane hurls his emptied beer across the lawn. “Use that fancy degree, college boy. Do some Nancy Drew shit and invite her to the album release party. You’re about to be a rock legend, and that’s some panty-droppin’ shit. I’ll bet you didn’t tell her any of that.”
I keep my eyes lowered. “Maybe I’m tired of groupies.”
“Whatever, Jag.” He opens the glass door and pauses. “One of us has our cock blocked by a rodeo princess, and it ain’t me, brother.”
It isn’t until he disappears that his words hit me. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.
Tossing my guitar into Zane’s vacant seat, I dive for my phone. Invigorated, I push the home button, tapping my foot against the railing while waiting for the prompt.
I clear my throat. “In what city is Dreighton University located?”
The information app responds in her normal computer generated voice. “Let me have a look. Dreighton University is located in Wilmington, North Carolina.”
My mind drifts to that sexy Southern drawl she fought to hide.
A Carolina girl.
Step one, down. On to step two.
