Thrill Me

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Thrill Me Page 19

by Olivia Cunning


  deserve better. She should be nicer to you.”

  Her I would be nicer to you was left unspoken, but Owen could read it in the way she leaned closer to him, as if he needed her to offer comfort.

  “She’s great, you know,” Owen said. “If she wasn’t, I wouldn’t give two shits that she dumped me.” And he still wasn’t clear on that little detail. Was there potential for them to reconcile? He had to believe there was, or he’d end up doing something really idiotic—like waiting naked for her in her office with a rose clamped between his teeth.

  Desperately wanting to change the topic of conversation—he didn’t need or want relationship advice from Lindsey—he asked, “So what did you find in the paper?”

  “There’s a bank teller job I could do. It doesn’t pay well, but has benefits.”

  “Were you a bank teller before?” She might have told him months before, but if she had, he’d forgotten.

  “I started as one, then I trained to be an investment broker. I’d finally found my stride and was making good money for the bank when my boss found out about—” She folded her arms around her middle and hunched forward. “Well, you know. And she fired me.”

  “She fired you for fucking a rock band?” He’d heard of some pretty stupid reasons to fire someone, but that had to take the grand prize.

  “She fired me because she’s always hated me. She used my reputation—it being bad for business—as her excuse to get rid of me. I’m from a small town with two banks. She’s the president of one, and guess who’s the president of the other?”

  “Her?”

  “Might as well be. It’s her good ol’ boy daddy, who should have retired about twenty years ago. The man is eighty years old.”

  “Hey, I plan to still be rocking the stage on my bass when I’m eighty.”

  “That would be awesome—Sole Regret, the geriatric years.” She giggled. “I’d definitely pay to see that.”

  Owen smiled. He liked making her laugh. She’d been so anxious and defensive since she’d shown up with her baby on board, he’d honestly wanted to dump her off on his mother and never interact with her again. She’d been super fun and adventurous when they’d shared that wild night of sex on the tour bus on Christmas Eve—no holds barred and anything goes. Still, he supposed any woman in her current position would be anxious and defensive. But she didn’t have to feel that way around him.

  She glanced at the time and squeezed out from behind the table, collecting her plate and putting it in the sink. She turned on the water to clean the skillet, but Owen jumped up from the table and nudged her aside. “You cooked; I’ll get the dishes.”

  “But—”

  “I insist. Plus my mom would skin me if she knew I made you cook and do the dishes.”

  “You didn’t make me,” Lindsey said, her thick lashes shielding her wide blue eyes. “I wanted to.”

  She wanted to what, play Susie Homemaker? With him? And in the house she’d told him was perfect for raising kids? He shuddered.

  “Uh, why don’t you see if you can figure out how to get your car back?” he suggested. “Call Oklahoma State Patrol. They should be able to tell you how to proceed.”

  She nodded slightly and then sat down with her cellphone to look up the appropriate phone numbers online. She was talking with someone when he went upstairs to pack a bag and collect dirty clothes to throw in a load of laundry.

  When he came back down, Lindsey followed him into the mudroom to watch him load the washing machine.

  “Did you know they dispose of vehicles if they aren’t claimed within thirty days and if they do, you still have to pay all the impound and storage fees in cash?”

  “That’s to encourage you to get your piece of junk out of their hair as quickly as possible.”

  She scowled at him. “It’s not a piece of junk. I ran out of gas.”

  “And then hitched a ride with a trucker.”

  “Don’t remind me of how stupid I was. I was running on pure adrenaline at that point. I had to get to Houston before you guys took off for your next tour stop.”

  She just couldn’t wait to find them and ruin some lives. Owen mentally slapped himself; it wasn’t fair to blame her for how things had turned out. He was ashamed of himself for even thinking she was trying to ruin anyone.

  “I need to get to the airstrip.” He’d arrive extra early, but maybe someone else in the band was as desperate to leave home as he was. He was drowning in estrogen here.

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  “I hope you can drive a stick.” He hadn’t even wondered if she could handle the Jeep’s standard transmission.

  “If I have to,” she said.

  She ground only two gears before she dropped him off in the parking lot where the band members usually parked their cars to catch a chartered flight. He was the first one there, but didn’t mind waiting. Adam had stayed in New Orleans, and Kelly would be driving from Galveston, so it was no surprise when neither of them showed up, but as the small plane arrived and they allowed him to board, he was surprised that Gabe and Jacob hadn’t turned up yet.

  As their scheduled departure time got closer and closer, he began to worry. He squeezed through the narrow aisle and stuck his head into the cockpit. “Where is everyone?” he asked the copilot, who was scowling at a clipboard.

  “Well, the tall guy—what’s his name?”

  Gabe and Jacob were both well over six feet, but Gabe was of thinner build and so seemed much taller than broad-shouldered Jacob. “Gabe?”

  “Mohawk guy.”

  “Yeah, that’s Gabe.”

  “He and his girlfriend went back to New Orleans last night. Some emergency.”

  Owen’s heart dropped. “What kind of emergency?”

  “They didn’t share details. I think it had something to do with a friend of the woman’s. I don’t know for sure, but she was extremely upset.”

  “Did Jacob leave with them?”

  “Nope. We’re still waiting for him.”

  “So it’s just me and Jacob on this trip?”

  “Assuming he shows up.”

  Of course Jacob would show up. He was the most responsible, driven member of the band. Hell, he’d missed the birth of his own daughter to keep Adam from dying of an overdose. Jacob was the guy they could all depend on. He always did what was right.

  “I’ll just sit and wait then,” Owen said. He took a moment to call Gabe to see if he could help with the emergency the copilot had mentioned. When Gabe didn’t answer, he left a voicemail and also sent him a text to assure him that he could ask Owen for help—no matter what the emergency—if he needed anything.

  Jacob eventually entered the plane, and Owen beamed at him, glad he finally had a friend to talk to. Since Jacob brushed past without so much as a howdy and plopped into a seat at the back, Owen unfastened his seat belt and moved to the seat across from him.

  “Have a good weekend?” Owen asked.

  “Most of it,” Jacob said, not so much as glancing Owen’s way. He was obviously in a bad mood. “Where’s Gabe?”

  Owen shrugged. “The pilot said he flew back last night. I have no idea why.”

  When Jacob didn’t comment, Owen tried broaching the subject of his situation with Caitlyn. Maybe Jacob had a suggestion on how to proceed. He was always smooth with the ladies. “Well, I’m in the doghouse, but—”

  “I’m going to catch a nap,” Jacob interrupted.

  Owen ignored the sting of Jacob’s rejection. Still, he needed an actual bro to talk to, yet now that the plane was taxiing, he couldn’t even call or text Kelly. Owen realized too late that he should have contacted Kelly while he’d been waiting for Jacob to board.

  “Uh, okay,” Owen said. “I wonder what Kelly’s up to.”

  While Jacob pretended to sleep, which was pretty hurtful, Owen occupied himself with a shooter game on his phone. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to be back on the road so much in his life. He usually treasured his time at home,
but he needed the normal give and take of the band and the routine of playing. Maybe he’d get to talk to his brother this evening; Chad’s calls from Afghanistan always cheered him up. And he’d get to see Kelly soon. That also cheered Owen up. They rarely spent a day apart, and Owen legit missed the guy.

  In New Orleans, after a bit of a mix-up at the hotel’s front desk—Adam apparently had their keycards—he and Jacob went upstairs. Jacob seemed a bit more amenable to conversation in the elevator, but Owen no longer felt like sharing his problems with the jerk, so he decided to wait in his room until the concert.

  Once there, he checked his messages—one from his mom asking if he knew anyone who could get Lindsey’s car in Oklahoma and one from Lindsey saying she hadn’t completely destroyed his transmission but that she’d feel more comfortable driving her own vehicle. No messages from Kelly or Caitlyn. Since he was forbidden to contact Caitlyn, he called Kelly. When Kelly answered, Owen could hear road noise in the background.

  “Glad you called. I was getting really bored,” Kelly said.

  “How far out are you?” Owen didn’t mind talking on the phone, but he much preferred face to face conversations.

  “I got a late start this morning,” he said. “If traffic cooperates, I should get there about an hour before we go onstage.”

  “Oh.” That sucked.

  “How are you holding up?” Kelly asked. “I know what you’re like after a chick dumps you.”

  “She didn’t dump me. At least I don’t think she did. I’m not sure. She’s none too happy about Lindsey living with me.”

  “Lindsey is living with you? I thought Mom was going to take her in.” Kelly had called Owen’s mother Mom since he’d been in junior high.

  “She tried. My parents were going to rent the apartment to her.”

  “That’s a nice place.”

  “Was a nice place.” Owen caught Kelly up on the mold situation and ended by telling him that Caitlyn had overheard Lindsey calling him down to breakfast.

  “Well, you know how you could have avoided the entire situation.”

  “How?”

  “Told her up front that Lindsey was living with you and not tried to hide it.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hide it. Lindsey wasn’t staying at my place when I’d last spoken with Caitlyn. Circumstances changed.”

  “So you really want to make this thing with Caitlyn work?”

  “I do.”

  Kelly sighed. “Whatever makes you happy. I’m stopping for gas now. I’ll see you when I get into New Orleans.”

  “Okay,” Owen said. He didn’t realize he hadn’t asked Kelly about his weekend with Dawn until they hung up. They’d have plenty of time to catch up later.

  Owen was drifting in and out of sleep across the hotel bed when his phone rang. He was absolutely stunned to see the caller was Caitlyn. He glanced at the clock radio—exactly six p.m. Wasn’t that when she’d said she was allowed to call?

  “Hello?” he answered. “Caitlyn?”

  “Okay, I have a list of all the things I want to say to you,” she said, her words rushed, as if she’d lose her nerve if she didn’t blurt everything out at once. “Please hold your questions and comments until the end.”

  He laughed at her making a list—it was definitely something she’d do—and at her treating a phone call like a press conference.

  “Number One,” she said.

  And of course she’d number the list.

  “I don’t like that the pregnant girl is staying with you, but I understand that you feel obligated and want to help her out, so I won’t throw a big fit about it. If she’s staying with you, there can be no touching. I mean it. I will throw a fit about that.”

  “No touching Lindsey,” he said, smiling at her bossy tone. “Got it.”

  “Number Two. I regret sending you away when I did. We could have enjoyed the rest of our weekend without me suddenly having to find myself. Charles reminded me how I get when I fall in love. I completely forget who I am and focus on complementing the man I’m with.”

  “You’re in love,” he said, his smile broadening. “Got it.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth, Owen.”

  “You’re the one who said it.”

  She chuckled. “Fine. Number Three. I checked your concert schedule and see that you’ll be in Atlanta on Thursday. If I take a flight right after work, I think I can catch the tail end of the concert and spend the night with you. Take Friday off and hang out with you all weekend.”

  “You can’t wait to see me again,” he said. “Got it.”

  “I’m trying to be serious here.”

  “How’s that working for you?”

  “It was going well in my head, but I can’t seem to stick to my agenda when you’re involved.”

  “I don’t do agendas,” he said, “but I can compromise, and I do want to see you again as soon as possible because I have feelings to confess and I don’t want to do it in a line-itemed list over the phone.”

  “You got a problem with how I confess my feelings?”

  He could hear the teasing laugh in her voice. He wished he could also see it on her face.

  “No problem,” he said. “I just do things a bit differently.”

  “That’s good. So do I. I just have to keep reminding myself that it’s okay to be me.”

  “It’s better than okay. You’re amazing.”

  “I should have just driven to New Orleans instead of pacing my office all day. I’d have almost been there by now.”

  “Are you finished with your list? I have a few things to say as well.”

  “No. It has twenty-four points.”

  “Twenty-four?”

  “Well, some of them are pretty specific and not that important.”

  “So summarize for me.”

  “I want to be your girlfriend.”

  “Done,” he said.

  “I want to meet your family.”

  “This is getting serious,” he said.

  “We need to spend less time with our clothes off. I can’t so much as sneeze without feeling you were inside me.”

  He grinned. “How about we compromise on that one? One solid fuck with the stud in my piercing per day. No more.”

  “Amending list item Seven,” she said.

  He could actually hear the sound of her pen scraping against the page as he assumed she added a note to her list.

  “Unlimited fucking without the stud in.”

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s good. Unlimited fucking. Okay, Number Eight.”

  “Caitlyn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why don’t you fax your list to me and we can discuss it at our next meeting.”

  “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

  “You’re being wonderful you. I just want to make sure you add my items to your list before I have to go. They’ll be calling me to the bus for sound check and dinner soon.”

  “Oh, sorry for keeping you.”

  “Owen’s list Number One: no making me wonder for twenty-four hours if I’m going to see you again. Dump me for real or keep our line of communication open.”

  “Good one,” she said. Again he could hear her scribbling.

  “Owen’s Number Two: no more lists.”

  “I need lists,” she insisted.

  “Okay, but you don’t have to share them with me. We can operate on different levels and still work together.”

  “That’s the part that freaks me out. We’re so different.”

 

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