Shay and Jaycee First Love

by Taylor Hart

  She giggled and kissed him again.

  He let her go. “C’mon, we have to get going.”

  As they took Main Street and he blasted country rock into the air, he suddenly belted out his favorite song.

  She didn’t sing along, but she was grinning at him.

  He took her hand. “Sing, woman! You have an amazing voice.”

  “I don’t know the song.”

  “You don’t know this song? It’s, like, top of the charts right now.”

  “I actually don’t know a lot of pop music.” She looked embarrassed. “I’m busy all year at school and I take different classes that don’t involve contemporary music, but I listen as much as I can through streaming music. I like to write music. Which most people don’t know.”

  Shay was reminded of how amazing she was and how he still didn’t know much about her. He flicked off the radio. “I want to hear all your songs.”

  “What?” She scoffed. “Now? No.”

  “C’mon, you heard me sing the other night, one of our songs.”

  “ It was like good and amazing and …”

  He squeezed her hand as the truck rolled into the hardware store parking lot. “And it started somewhere. Let’s hear your song.” He parked but didn’t get out.

  “Now?” she asked, exasperated.

  He nodded. “Now.”

  Her eyes fluttered, and she pulled her hand back. She was gorgeous, he couldn’t believe they were just hanging out together. It felt so easy.

  “C’mon, Jaycee, you must have that song you sing in the back of your mind right now. Just sing it for me.”

  A small smile played at her lips.

  He pointed at her. “You do.”

  Her gaze dropped lower, and she shyly played with a ring on her right hand.

  He didn’t know if she would acquiesce, so he started singing to encourage her. “Hopeless… drowning in the night. Hopeless … until I found the light.”

  Jaycee joined in. Her voice was clear and had that “it” factor every indie rock star wanted. “You reached out, you took my hand, I never thought it was you … hopeless, until I met you.”

  She was quiet for a moment, and he wondered if he should tell her again how amazing she was.

  “I never thought, you’d see through my disguise.” She looked up at him. “I never thought I’d want to be lost inside those eyes. You saw me there, you didn’t care if I could burn you down. Hopeless … and now I’m found.”

  Shay could no longer restrain himself. He jumped out of the truck, ran around to open her door, and pulled her to him, putting both hands on her waist and diving deep into those lips he couldn’t get out of his mind. Those lips had haunted his waking and sleeping dreams.

  He hadn’t been himself lately. His brothers and sisters were teasing him about being preoccupied and out of sorts. Even that morning, he’d kept misplacing tools. That was the problem. He did feel out of place, until he was with her. He leaned in, inhaling. “Strawberry jam.”

  She giggled, hooking her fingers through his jean loops. “Are you smelling me, Shay Summerville? Because I don’t know if you want me reporting that to Teen Magazine when you’re a professional rock star that you smell people. It kinda sounds creepy.”

  Shay let out a derisive laugh, skeptical at the idea that he’d be a famous rock star. He took a deep, exaggerated sniff, then kissed her again. “You do smell like strawberry jam.”

  She laughed harder.

  “It’s your shampoo, right?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll never tell.”

  He tickled her beneath the chin.

  She squirmed and giggled more. “We are in the hardware parking lot. We should probably act appropriately.”

  He swiped one last kiss for good measure, then tugged her with him into the store. “I’ll find out the secret of that scent, let’s get these tools.”

  After they had retrieved the tools from the list, Shay drove down Main Street. He swung by the McDonald’s drive-through. “You want anything?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  That was fine—there might not have been room in the truck otherwise. He bought four Big Macs, four fries, and two huge Cokes.

  “Wow,” Jaycee said. “Guess you’re hungry today.”

  “Not for me.” He paid and resumed their drive. At the bridge, he slowed and circled around by the underpass, looking for Mason.

  “Wait, who are we checking on?”

  He hedged.

  “Shay?”

  He sighed. “Normally, I don’t like to talk about my family’s personal life.”

  “O-kay.”

  He glanced at her.

  She gave him a cautious smile. “No pressure.”

  Reluctantly, he began. “Okay, but if I tell you a family secret, you have to swap one.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “That can be arranged.”

  Dang, he liked this girl. A lot. He plunged in. “Okay, my brother, Mason. He’s into drugs, and he and my parents don’t see eye to eye on that. So he’s been out of the house for a few months.”

  “Oh.” She scanned the bridge. “Wait, was he there at your gig the other night?”

  “Nope.” Shay couldn’t spot Mason, and he sighed. While he kept an eye out, he gave her the rundown. “That was Noah, on keyboard and Shar, on drums. Mason has an amazing voice, but he never liked being part of the band.” He always felt guilty about Mason, like he should have been a more responsible older brother.

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  He again scanned the people huddled beneath the bridge, and he stopped when he saw Mason. He could tell that some people around Mason were pointing at Shay. Mason headed over. His hair was long, dark, and greasy. He wore a black shirt and black jeans, and there were piercings in his nose and his lip.

  Shay rolled down the window to offer what he’d grabbed from McDonald’s. “Got you lunch, bro.”

  Mason’s face darkened when he saw Jaycee. He looked between them, taking the food. “Who’s that?”

  Shay took her hand, suddenly protective and wondering if he’d done the right thing bringing her down here. Her very appearance reeked privilege, and people down here at the bridge preyed on her type. “This is my … girlfriend, Jaycee.” Had he really just said girlfriend? He glanced at Jaycee, who didn’t seem to have heard what he’d said—she was only staring at Mason.

  Mason grunted. “I know you, you’re the senator’s kid, right? I know your brother well.” Judging by the look in his brother’s eye, Shay realized that he’d definitely made a mistake in bringing her with him.

  Jaycee tensed, but didn’t respond.

  “We have to go, bro,” Shay said tersely, “but I hope you enjoy the food. Eat it.” His brother already looked emaciated.

  Mason swung his gaze back to his brother. “How’s Kira?”

  At the mention of their littlest sister, who Mason was closest to, Shay had to tamp down the frustration building inside of him. “She’s worried about you.” He wrinkled his nose at the stench of body odor.

  Mason tossed a fry into his mouth. “Tell her to come down here and see me sometime.”

  “You know she can’t do that.” He glanced around. “This isn’t the place for Kira.”

  A sudden break through the drug-hazed look crossed Mason’s face. “Yeah.” He stared into the food bag. “That’s true.” He picked out a fry and popped it into his mouth.

  Shay didn’t want to still be here. “Gotta go, go see mom sometime at home. Take that shower.”

  Mason’s brow furrowed. “Why? ’Cause mom thinks I’m trash and needs a shower?”

  Shay didn’t want to do this. “I’ll catch you later, bro.” He eased off the brake, and the truck started moving.

  Mason let out a loud laugh, the kind that told Shay that something wasn’t right with him. “Tell mom hi.”

  Shay shook his head, disgusted.

  Mason scowled. “Fine, don’t tell her I said hi. I’ll just have to tell the Senator�
��s brother to tell her.”

  Now Shay slammed his foot on the brake. He turned back, sticking his head out the window. “What’s that supposed to mean, Mason?”

  Mason looked smug, like he’d just called out checkmate. He shook his head, then stuffed more fries into his mouth. “Nothing.”

  A feeling of unrest pulsed through Shay.

  “What’s he talking about?” Jaycee asked, alarmed.

  They didn’t have to ask what that meant, because a red motorcycle suddenly sped down the road toward them.

  “Duke?” Jaycee asked, startled.

  Duke screeched to a stop, ripping off his helmet. “You’re hanging out with trash again, little sis?”

  Shay pushed open his truck door. “Who you calling trash, McCade?”

  Duke let out a whoop of crazy laughter. “You’ll never be good enough for my sister!”

  Chapter 10

  “Stop!” Jaycee said to Shay. She threw open the truck door and rushed toward the two men, who clearly wanted to rip each other’s heads off.

  She couldn’t believe her brother was coming down to the bridge where the apparent druggies hung out. Wait, of course she could. She’d just never realized it.

  Duke held his ground, going toe to toe with Shay. “Dad wouldn’t be happy you’re down here, Jaycee.”

  Shocked, he would call her out, she laughed. “What are you doing here, Duke?”

  He looked at her, the side of his lip turning up in a snarl. “At least I’m not slumming with the tow truck guy?” He gave her a fake grin. “Kurt called, he’s been asking about you.”

  Jaycee shook her head. “You’re such a big, fat liar.”

  Duke grunted. “Or you are.”

  Shay’s glare intensified and he took another step toward Duke. “Shut up, dude.”

  Jaycee got between them. “Shut up, Duke,” she growled. “Just stop this!”

  Duke turned his glare back to Shay. “How’s Kristie?”

  Jaycee bit her lip. How did Duke know Kristie?

  Shay didn’t respond.

  Duke grunted out a laugh, like he knew something he could use to blackmail Shay. He pointed at him. “You think you have a shot with my sister?” he asked, his tone low. “Because you’re way outclassed, Summerville, way outclassed. You’ll never be good enough for her. She goes to Harvard, do you know that?”

  “Shut up!” Jaycee knew her cheeks would be burning red. Her brother was such an idiot and a narcissist. “Just stop it.”

  Shay only frowned at him. “Why are you buying drugs down here? Don’t you know it’s richies like you that keep this crap in business?”

  Mason had sauntered over to them, still holding the food and eating fries. He looked amused by the whole situation. “That’s right,” Mason called out. “Our situation is your fault, Duke.”

  Duke glanced at Mason, then back to Jaycee. “As far as Dad is concerned,” he told Jaycee, “I come down to ride here sometimes. It’s straight concrete for a couple of miles, and it’s nice, okay?”

  Mason let out a guffaw. “Good one, bro.”

  “Okay?” Duke growled, his focus on Jaycee. “Or the old man’s going to find out about your little side dish, and wouldn’t that be nice for you?”

  “Shut up,” she repeated. Even as she did her best to keep her cool this time, she wished that Duke wasn’t her brother. She hated that her brother was there, hated his drug problem. She cursed under her breath.

  Duke turned his glare to Shay. “You’ll never have a shot with her. Never.”

  She turned for the truck, tugging on Shay’s hand. “Let’s go.” She didn’t need this right now.

  Shay walked with her, keeping his glare on her brother. He opened the passenger’s side door for her, his lips pinched into a line. Then he walked around the truck slowly, as if Duke would attack before Shay could climb into the driver’s seat.

  Duke simply crossed his arms and glared at her as they left.

  They drove back to town, heading down Main Street to return to the auto body shop. Shay parked and turned to her.

  “Duke’s an idiot,” Jaycee said.

  He didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.

  “Shay?” she asked, taking his hand.

  He stared at their hands for a long moment.

  “Shay?” she asked, nerves buzzing into her lower gut. “Is this about his Kurt comment? Because I seriously have not spoken to Kurt.” She hated Duke so much. “He just wants to get between us.”

  “He’s right,” he said, toying with her hand. “I’m not anywhere near Harvard type, Jaycee.”

  She scooted to him, placing both of her handson his face. “I don’t care.”

  In that moment he looked—vulnerable.

  She searched his eyes. “I hate it if you think I care about stuff like that.”

  His face was sullen, but he finally nodded. “I know.” He swallowed and put his hands over hers. “Listen, I have to work the rest of the night. Big job that we need to get done, but … Want to come over for Sunday dinner tomorrow and hang out with the fam?”

  Instantly, she was nervous. “To your house?”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “I told you about all the sets of twins.”

  “Yeah.” Her spirits lifted, even feeling nervous, she wanted to meet his family. Plus, it was a good sign that he wanted her to meet them, right?

  “The Summerville Ranch is a bit crazy, but it’s fun.” Shay leaned in and kissed her, tracing her face with his fingers. “Even though your brother is right—you’re way too good for me—I just don’t think I can give you up.”

  “Whatever, when you’re famous, I’ll be the one waiting for a turn to talk to you.”

  His dimple deepened, and he kissed the back of her hand. “I’ll text you the address.”

  She reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re not getting out of here without some lip action.”

  The side of his lip tugged up. “Oh yeah?” he leaned into her.

  “Nope.” When they kissed, she let herself get lost in this moment, in the cool mint, in the tender way he kissed her, then gently tugged his fingers into her hair.

  In the back of her mind she knew she would have to deal with Duke and, more importantly, their father, but … all she wanted was to kiss Shay Summerville over and over and over again.

  Later that night, as she lay in bed, unable to sleep, all she could think about was Duke and the way he’d threatened her not to tell her father about his drug problem.

  Like her father didn’t know. P-lease.

  Anger shot through her, why didn’t her father cut him off, cut off the money, the motorcycles, the endless travel trips where Duke was always ‘finding himself?’ It mystified her that her brother was so worthless. It mystified her even more that her father clearly knew about Duke’s follies but never did anything.

  Yet her father pushed her so hard. With Harvard. With the ‘right men.’ It had always been this way with her father.

  Her mother had been the only buffer between them. Tears filled her eyes and she thought of the way her mother had died. The fire. The cover up.

  No wonder she had the dreams she had. She blinked and wiped her tears, hating that she was crying, but she missed her mother so much. So much. Her soft hand and the vanilla lotion she used that always made her smell so amazing.

  She gazed out of her big window that faced the lake. The moon was bright and, even though it was almost eleven at night, the sky was so clear and there were so many stars.

  Instant tears filled her eyes and she thought about her mother. About how much her mother loved the stars here. She would always comment about how one could never really see the stars in Boston, with all the city lights around.

  She wished she could just talk to her again. Tell her about Shay. The thought made her smile.

  Unable to stop herself, she picked up her phone and went to his number. It was late. Really late, but … she wanted to talk to him.

  ‘Hey.’
/>   Instantly, he texted back. ‘What are you doing up so late?’

  She grinned. ‘Are you working still?’

  ‘Just got done and showered. I’m sitting in the studio just tinkering on my guitar.’

  She sat up in bed, then leaned back on the pillows, thinking about how amazingly gorgeous he was. How his dark hair, longer on top, would be falling into his eyes. She grinned. ‘What do you use for your cool mint smell?’

  ‘Hahaha, not telling until you tell me your jam smell.’

  She laughed. There was something about Shay. He was rough and the first time she met him he just seemed so fierce and tough, but … now he was like that romance hero on the front of the store. The paperback books with gorgeous guys who seemed like they were too good to be true.

  ‘U there still?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Want to talk?’

  She thought about how emotional she was right now. ‘No, can we just text for a bit.’

  ‘Yup.’

  Neither of them texted for a bit.

  ‘U still owe me a secret.’

  She thought about what he’d told her about Mason.

  ‘What do you want to know about?’

  ‘What do you want to tell me?’

  It was like he could sense something was wrong.

  She probably shouldn’t even tell him, but she had to. Her hand trembled for a moment, then she just texted the words. ‘Not many people know this. My mother was killed in a fire, but we still don’t know who set the fire.’

  Instantly, the phone rang.

  She answered, “Hi.”

  “Jaycee,” he said, his tone a bit breathless.

  She sniffed, another round of tears falling down her face. “My father didn’t want to make it a huge deal, have a huge investigation.”

  “Why not?” he demanded, sounding as angry as she felt.

  She sniffed again and wiped her nose. “My mother … Shay, my mother had problems. Mental problems.”

  “Jaycee, you can tell me.”

  She rushed on, not knowing why she was telling him this. “She was in and out of mental facilities the past ten years and she would have … visions and dreams and …” she broke off, crying, covering her face, hating that she was even telling him all of this. “The same kind I’ve been having.”