Rock and Roll Country (Jesse's Girl #1) by Kandice Michelle Young Page B

British,” I say, playing coy. “So, I’m not sure. The prince?”
    Laughing, he takes a gulp from his beer. My spine tingling with the thrill of anticipation, I watch the way his luscious lips curve over the rim of the glass. “Jesse Lee,” he says, extending his hand to me.
    Electric charges racing up my arm, I clasp his rough, calloused palm with my delicate one “Sophie Westbrook. Nice to meet you, Jesse.”
    His smile is dashing, making it hard not to stare.
    Gesturing toward the empty chair across from him, he states, “I agree, Sophie. Care for a drink?”
    “Sorry, can’t. I can get you another if you’d like.”
    “A girl like you shouldn’t be wasting her talent on waitressing.”
    Unable to contain my irritation, I roll my eyes and exhale.  “Yeah, well...sorry, Prince Jesse. Some of us have actual bills to attend to.”
    As I turn to walk away, his hand grips my wrist with just enough pressure to be arousing. “At least give me your number,” he says. 
    I smirk. “If you want me that badly, you’ll figure out how to find me.”
     
     

Jesse
     
    Just like that the chase was on. I had one more night in this city, and before it was done, Sophie Westbrook would be mine. Prying eyes all turned on me, I make my way back to the band. Snickers and jeers launch from each one of them as we rehash how the great Jesse Lee struck out. It wasn’t a strike, though, more of a near miss. I can tell she wants me as much as I want her. It was written in the way her tongue subconsciously raked over her lips as I sipped from my cup, and the way her pulse quickened at my touch when my hand wrapped around her dainty wrist. Sophie is reeling with sexual tension, and my dick has just the right amount of swell to release it. Discreetly readjusting myself, I watch the subtle shake of her ass as she carries an order to her next table. It was near impossible to see from the stage, but when she bends over the table to place an order of onion rings in front of the fat bastard, who is already getting a little too friendly with her, I can see the hint of just the right amount of plumpness making up her bum to leave any man breathless.
    Laughing the whole way, Chubby wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her onto his lap. Hand clenching my beer glass so hard it snaps; I watch with gritted teeth as she fights her way free. Mopping up the steady flow of golden foam, Tag leans forward. “Alright there, mate?”
    “Fine,” I answer, through gritted teeth.
    “Doesn’t seem like it to me. Don’t let her get to you. There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”
    “I said, I’m fine,” I snap, dabbing at my beer soaked jeans.
    “Whatever you say, man.” He leans back in his chair as we’re joined by our original waitress.
    “Ya’ll are a hell of a lot of trouble, you know that,” she states, her thick southern accent clouding her voice.
    “Sorry,” I reply, accepting the towel she holds out, and using it to wipe the stains from my shoes as best I can, “I’ll happily pay for the glass. Just add it to my tab.”
    “Nah, don’t worry about it, sugar. Tony never springs for the good stuff. Not with this bunch of rednecks, at least. What happened? The karaoke not to your likin’? Truth be told, it’s not my taste either, but I can’t go around breaking glassware every time it grates at my nerves.”
    “You’re cute,” Tag cuts in, taking her hand in his, “anybody ever told you that?” 
    “Well, plenty have, but none as handsome as you,” she answers, winking and taking her hand back. “Can I get you fellas anything else?” 
    “Actually,” I begin, turning my gaze toward Sophie once more, “you wouldn’t happen to have her number would you?” 
    She sizes me up for a few seconds. “For you? I might. Depends on your intentions.”
    “Perfectly honest, I swear,” I laugh, tossing my hands in the air in submission. 
    “Damn,” she replies, taking her order pad in hand. “Had you said