Page 106 of Beautiful Distraction

I don’t want to point out that Mozart wrote it because,while I’m not a fan of classical music, the guitarist really rocks it.

A few moments later, the music fades in the background, andthe vocalist looks up, and the shrieking starts again.

“That’s K. Taylor,” Mandy shouts. Apparently, she’s taken onthe role of narrator tonight.

“Thanks. I figured that part out,” I say and go aboutopening my can and taking a long sip, hoping it’s not spiked.

My nerves are so frazzled from all the shouting and screaming,I can barely even hear Mandy. I peer around us. Almost everyone’s wearing fanmerchandise. There are countless banners with things like ‘Taylor No 1 girl’ or‘This girl has Taylor Fever.’

Some messages are quite rude and graphic. Apparently, plentyof people want K. Taylor’s baby. Or to take care of his sexual needs.

My attention flips back to the stage as the vocalist looksup from his microphone. A shiver runs down my spine.

Heisfrigginghot.

But there is no way I’d ever go for a guy in a mask. It’sjust one of those creepy things you usually see in a movie adaptation of aStephen King novel.

“Hey, guys,” the vocalist says into the microphone, hisvoice deep and sexy. “Thanks for being here tonight. It means a lot to us.You’ve probably been wondering why we’re playing such a small venue. Montana iswhere it all started. It’s a place that’ll always be in our hearts. It’s aplace of new beginnings, which is why I’m dedicating our newest song, BehindThis Shell, to a very special lady. Babe, come on up.”

Oh, God.

My body freezes, andnot because of his words.

I know that voice.

I’ve heard it whispering into my ear. I’ve felt it across myskin.

But it can’t possibly be.

The singer’s gaze sweeps over the front row and settles onus.

“You.” He points a long index finger, beckoning me over.“Come on up.”

I’m so shocked I spill my drink over my top, not evenfeeling it.

I stare at him, speechless, feeling the blood draining frommy body, every drop of it, and yet my heart continues to race to reach what I’dguess would be a new record in the Guinness Book of Records. I’ve never felt sofaint in my life, so frozen and surreal, as if I’m in a dream.

Holy shit!

He’s looking at me.

He’s talking to me.

“Ava,” Mandy hisses.

“What?” I turn to her, confused.

“I think he means you.” Even Mandy sounds awestruck. Inotice she’s awfully pale.

“She can’t believe her luck,” the guitarist says, whichearns him laughter from the audience.

“Come on, people,” the vocalist says. “Give this city girl acheer before she decides to run and misses this awesome new song.”

City girl.

Oh. My. God.

His name is K. Taylor.

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