Page 1 of Set Play

Chapter 1

Mateo

“I’m surprised you agreed to meet me at a country bar of all places. Aren’t you known for never being out on the town?” Lane jests as he slides a beer over the tabletop toward me.

I accept the bottle and take a long pull, savoring the cold, crisp brew, before meeting his eyes again. “Yeah, well I tried to get you to come by my place for a drink, pendejo, but you were too good for that idea.1” I scrutinize my surroundings, still astounded that Lane Monroe chose this place of all options.

The owners were clearly aiming for a country vibe; mason jar encased bulbs swing over each table, and the walls are cluttered with everything from neon beer logos to random music memorabilia. Hell, there’s even a fake cowhide. At least, I think it’s fake.

This place’s only saving grace is that no one seems to recognize us. Well, more so me, but still. As Chasing Ruin’s band manager, it’s rare that anyone recognizes Lane without the guys nearby. Me, however, I step outside, and I’m accosted by Storm fans begging for the team captain’s signature. Usually, it doesn’t bother me, but sometimes it’s nice to quietly enjoy a beer with an old friend. “So how long are you in Memphis this time?”

A flash of amber light reflecting off honey brown hair on the makeshift dance floor snatches my attention, drowning out Lane’s answer. My eyes desperately sweep the bar, trying to locate the source, but it’s gone.

Lane clears his throat, jostling me out of the odd trance, and I shift my eyes back to him. “You good, Teo? You asked me a question and then completely ignored my response.”

“Yeah,” I drag the word out, still a little unsure about what just happened. “Sorry, something caught my attention.”

Lane looks over his shoulder and turns back to me, a smug smirk pulling at his lips. “Something or someone?” he asks suggestively.

“Oh, fuck off,” I scoff. “Take two. How long are you in Memphis? And what’s going on with the whole independent collaborator thing? Any luck figuring it out?”

His shoulders sag, the stress of managing one of the hottest alternative rock bands of the year catching up with him. “I head back to Colorado tomorrow. And no. The guys are being fucking impossible about the whole thing. Finn is the easiest to get on board with things, but he’s more interested in finding a third to bring to the bedroom. That alone has Maverick refusing to consider anyone that Finn looks twice at, which is like ninety percent of candidates. At least Silas is reasonable; he’s just too damn picky. I’m starting to worry that we’ll never find someone.”

“What if you did one of those blind audition things? That way it’s all about the sound which should keep Mav’s jealousy at bay and I’m guessing is what matters most to Silas.”

Lane’s face brightens and he pulls out his phone. “Dude, that’s fucking genius! I have to text the guys about this before I forget.”

I use his momentary distraction to my advantage, signaling to the bartender for two more beers before scanning the room again. I’m mentally preparing myself for disappointment when I catch sight of those gorgeous waves.

Suddenly, it feels like all the oxygen is sucked from the bar. Because this time, I see more than just hair. This time, I see her.

Only part of her face is visible through the dancing crowd, but I can tell that she’s absolutely stunning. My eyes hungrily take in every feature, committing every detail to memory for later.

Fuck, she’d look good in my jersey.

The thought momentarily startles me. I don’t date, not since what Lukas calls “the Jade incident” five years ago, but if I did, she’s definitely the type of woman I’d call mine.

Hypothetically, of course.

I allow myself another second to drink in the sight of her before I prepare to direct my focus back to Lane. However, before I can, her face contorts with disgust as she backs away from the guy grabbing for her. My blood boils when I see him ignore her obvious discomfort, reaching for her again and yanking her to his chest by her arm.

Oh hell no. Not on my watch, cabrón.2

1. Pendejo = idiot

2. Cabrón = asshole

Chapter 2

Élise

“Come on, pretty girl. Why not stick around for a little bit? I’m sure I can show you a much better time than whoever it is you are supposed to be meeting.” The grin the wannabe cowboy shoots me is nothing shy of revolting.

Does he think this shit actually works, or does he just not respect women enough to care? Probably the second option. My lip curls at the thought. This is why women choose the bear.

He tries to reach out and grab me around the waist, but I manage to dodge his arm and back away without making eye contact. That’s what started this whole mess; I accidentally locked eyes with him while I was letting my gaze wander the dance floor. Apparently those two seconds of eye contact screamed, “please come talk to me!” to this guy.

I haven’t had much time to explore downtown Memphis since moving here, but since I have the weekend off, I thought it was a good time to finally check out the local bars. After weeks of hearing my coworkers recommend The Hideout, I made it my first stop.