It’s In His Song: Book 6

by Alexander, Shelly

  “Uncle Joe is holding down the fort for me while I do this.” He still didn’t turn around.

  “Why didn’t you wait for our contractor?” She couldn’t stop a hand from going to her hip.

  “He got called away again to a bigger job and can’t get to it until later this week. I need it finished before the songwriter’s festival starts in a week.” Dylan wasn’t a big burly guy. He was tall and slender. But toned muscles still flexed and rolled as he scooped more mortar out of a wheelbarrow and applied it to the top layer of brick. “I’m almost done here, then I’ll be out of your way.”

  Obviously, he didn’t know what a disaster he was with do-it-yourself projects.

  She should be pissed at the eye sore he was creating.

  Instead, she crossed her arms, her lips curving into an involuntary smile. “Since when are you an expert bricklayer?”

  “It looked easy enough on YouTube.” He added another brick.

  “I think there should be a town rule that when anyone sees you with a tool in your hand, the person closest to you should tackle you to the ground and take the tool away before ten other things get broken,” she said with a serious tone.

  He ignored her. “No screwdrivers, hammers, sharp objects, or heavy machinery that might do bodily harm, so I figured I could do a sufficient job for the time being.”

  “I see.” She couldn’t hide the humor in her voice.

  He must’ve heard it, too, with the ear for music and perfect pitch that he had, because he finally turned around, his eyebrows pulled together. “Why? What’s wrong with my work?”

  Ignoring his bare chest was hard. Not staring at his ink was even harder. But she managed to angle her head to one side and study the wall. “You mean besides the bricks not being level?”

  His head swiveled, and he took a step back to examine his work. “Maybe they’re a little crooked, but they aren’t that bad. It’ll do until my songwriter’s festival is over. Then I’ll pick up the tab to have it fixed right.” He shot a defensive look at her. “I’m pretty proud of myself, actually. You’re not the only one who can be inventive in a pinch and figure out how to solve a problem.”

  “Really?” She couldn’t help it. She just couldn’t. “Then why are you sealing yourself up on the wrong side of the wall?”

  His expression blanked. “I could’ve let myself out through your entrance.”

  She reached for the laundry and started to drag it around the reception desk. “Not without setting off the alarm.”

  He jogged over and took it from her. “You have an alarm? In Red River?”

  She rubbed her aching back from the heavy laundry. “No,” she said on a chuckle. “It’s just fun giving you a hard time.”

  He dropped the laundry. “In that case, carry your own stuff.”

  She held up a hand. “I’m just kidding.”

  He gave her an even stare. “Fine.” He picked up the laundry again. “Where do you want it?”

  Dangerous question. With an even more dangerous answer.

  Because it had been so, so long. Because he was so, so good-looking. Because his chest was so, so bare.

  She nodded to the cabinet where they kept the smocks. When he put it down, she walked over and started stacking the clean laundry on the shelves. “Let’s make a pact. You don’t ever try to fix anything in my shop again, and in exchange, I won’t taser you.”

  He retrieved his T-shirt and swiped perspiration from his forehead. “Ha ha.” Then he smiled and tucked it away in his back pocket again. “But okay.” His smile broadened, and dimples appeared.

  Her uterus sighed.

  “Admittedly, I’m not handy with a set of tools.” He held up a hand and wiggled his fingers. “But my hands are really talented at other things.”

  Didn’t she know it.

  Their gazes hooked into each other. Looked into each other’s souls, crumbling their resolve into rubble.

  They came together, fast and furiously. No thinking. No talking. Just pure primal attraction that couldn’t be denied another second. Their bodies communicated without words or thoughts, as though they were no longer in charge of their actions, but that otherworldly desire they’d felt for each other six years ago was totally and completely in control.

  Her mouth crashed against his with the same desperation they’d had a long time ago, as though nothing had changed. As though they’d never been apart. As though they still cared about each other.

  Her hands smoothed over his taut chest and circled around to his back, her nails curling into his skin.

  He hissed in a breath against her lips, then devoured her mouth again, reaching for the bottom of her black T-shirt. In a flash, he flipped it over her head and tossed it on the floor, backing her toward the hallway at the rear of the salon.

  “Great idea.” She fumbled with the button of his worn Levis. “Wouldn’t want a pedestrian to stop in front of the glass storefront for a show.”

  He chuckled against her lips while still maneuvering down the hall. They took a sharp right turn into the alcove where the water heater and main valve were stored.

  Perfect. Even if not ideal.

  “There’s no bed in the shop,” she whispered, her body on fire and desire curling tighter at her center.

  “Don’t need one, baby,” Dylan said, his tone so smoky that it stoked the flames inside of her even more.

  Her breathing sped, her pulse hammered through her veins, and her body followed his lead. And what a glorious destination it was going to be.

  She might regret her moment of weakness in the morning, but she was going to enjoy the hell out it for the next hour. If she could last that long, because…hello…it had been years.

  Years!

  With a quick one-two kick to get rid of her shoes, then a push of her jeans, she was naked except for her bra.

  Dylan’s dark eyes clouded over as he changed his strategy and gently backed her against the wall. One palm covered a breast and kneaded.

  Her eyes fluttered shut, and her head fell back against the wall. “God, you do have magical hands.”

  Always had.

  Probably always would.

  Not that it mattered, because this would be the one and only time she’d let herself cave to the temptation, no matter how much charm and ridiculous good looks he possessed. He wasn’t the guy for her. He didn’t want kids, and that was a deal breaker.

  But right then. Right there…

  With one twitch of his fingers, her bra fell free, and he grasped a hardened nipple between his fingers, rolling it, pinching it…then taking it into his mouth.

  She arched and gasped out his name.

  “Yes, right there, baby. That’s the spot you like.” His warm breath prickled across her skin and a shiver raced over her so violently, so wonderfully blissful that she almost orgasmed.

  It had been a long time, indeed.

  He obviously remembered how much she’d enjoyed it when he kissed her breasts. That meant something, didn’t it? Same as her using his first hit song as her ringtone.

  She ran a hand over his ink, and his skin pebbled. Then she hooked both thumbs into the waistband of his unfastened jeans and pushed them lower.

  His hips ground into her, his swollen shaft sliding between her thighs to make her core throb and ache for him to be inside of her.

  “You’re slick and ready for me,” he said on a groan that communicated how turned on he was.

  When he reached down and grasped behind her thigh to lift her leg, she curled all ten fingers into the firm cheeks of his ass.

  He groaned and pressed against her again, feathering soft kisses over her neck.

  “We need protection,” she whispered.

  “Got it right here.” He reached down to the pocket of his sagging jeans and pulled out his wallet. Within seconds, he was covered and poised at her slick entrance.

  “Convenient for a guy who claims not to see a lot of action in the prophylactic department.” She showered a stri
ng of kisses across his squared jaw, and his new stubble gently prickled against her cheek.

  She squeaked when he lifted her off the ground, and her legs circled his waist.

  “It’s called being prepared for any eventuality, and it seems to be paying off for both of us right about now,” he murmured at her ear. “Besides, none of this is convenient, babe,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “But with you, it’s never mattered. It’s just damn good, no matter what.”

  With a single, long, hard thrust, he buried himself deep inside her.

  Unable to hold back, she cried out his name.

  “I love it when you say my name.” He withdrew to the tip, circled his hips to tease her, then thrust again.

  “Good God.” She raked a set of nails across his shoulder, then speared them into his hair.

  His glorious hair.

  He found a rhythm. Slow at first, then faster, sending flames of desire inside of her exploding to surface of the sun levels. Her insides coiled and heated until she thought she would burst or melt.

  Their kisses grew more hungry, more greedy, as though they were both ravenous and starved for the other. She met each of his thrusts with her own, their bodies in perfect unison. Like a song. Like beautiful music.

  “You taste so good,” he murmured against her lips. “You feel so good.”

  “Then don’t stop tasting me. Don’t stop feeling me.” Need threaded through her words.

  He buried his face in the nook of her neck and suckled, then sank his teeth into her flesh with just enough pressure to make her groan with pleasure.

  She sucked in a harsh breath, barreling closer to the edge of heaven from the feel of him filling her over and over.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “Nunca te superé. Nadie más ha comparado.”

  She had no idea what it meant, but that sexy Latino accent did her in. Dragged her over the edge as a powerful orgasm crashed through her. She shuddered and quaked against him, and it must’ve pushed him over the edge and into oblivion, too, because his shaft throbbed, and he cursed under his breath in Spanish as he found his release.

  When their breathing finally slowed, he put her down. Her legs were like Jell-O, and her knees gave way.

  He grabbed her. Steadied her while she found her footing. “I’ve got you.”

  Precisely what she was afraid of. Her feelings for him, which she’d kept sealed away in a neat, tight, little box, had sprung free, and she wasn’t sure she could stuff them back into it again.

  “Thanks.” She pulled on one leg of her pants, then the other.

  He followed her lead, disposed of the protection, and pulled on his jeans.

  She couldn’t meet his gaze as she snapped her bra.

  Where was her shirt?

  “Hey.” He put his finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “What’s wrong? Was I that bad?” he joked.

  “No.” Good Lord, she needed her freaking shirt!

  “Phew,” he said with a feigned look of relief. “I was worried there for a sec.” He cupped her cheek in his palm, letting a thumb caress the tender skin under her eye. “Then what?”

  I’ve got a kid, remember? Your kid. A kid you didn’t want, even though you never knew about her.

  When she didn’t say anything, his jaw hardened, and his hand fell away from her cheek. “Is it the big guy?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Who?”

  “The guy from last night. Is he your…partner? Or your…whatever?”

  She sighed, sadness filling her heart. “I wouldn’t have done this.” She waved her hands over the wall where they’d just experienced the best up-against-the-wall sex…the only sex—up against the wall or otherwise—she’d had in, well, six years. “This wouldn’t have been an option if I had a partner…or a whatever.”

  He let out a sigh that showed his relief.

  “So, you aren’t with Melody’s father? As in with him, with him?”

  With Logan? No. With Mel’s father? At this very moment? Yes, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from letting that fact slip through her lips. She wanted to tell him.

  But how could she after six long years of keeping it a secret?

  “I’m not with anyone, Dylan.” She stepped away, retrieved her shirt from the floor, and pulled it over her head. “And as good as this was, I don’t think it can happen again.”

  “Why the hell not?” His face reddened.

  “It was a moment of weakness for both of us,” she said.

  “You can honestly say that to me after…” He waved both hands over the wall just as she’d done. “After what we just did? After what we just shared?”

  “I’ve got a daughter to think about. I’ve never let a revolving door of men parade through her life. I’m afraid of what it might do to her.” Especially if she felt rejected by her own father. Felt blamed by him for being trapped, the way Hailey had felt.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Why can’t we spend time alone without her?” He waggled an index finger back and forth between himself and Hailey. “She doesn’t have to know until we see where it goes between us.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. When you’ve got kids, they’re the center of everything in your life. Besides, you don’t want kids,” Hailey said, her tone full of sorrow. “You told me so a long time ago.”

  Dylan rubbed the corners of his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “I was practically a kid myself when I said that. Doesn’t mean you having a kid would be a deal breaker for me if we…” His words trailed off, and a muscle in his jaw ticked.

  “See?” Now her voice turned to a plea. A plea to get him to understand his own limitations. “You can’t even say it. I can’t put myself or my daughter through heartbreak. Even if she doesn’t know about us, if I have a broken heart, it will spill over onto her and affect her life, too.”

  “I…” Dylan ground out. “We…” He shut his eyes and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Fuck.”

  Exactly her point. She turned to leave the alcove. She had to get out of there and think. “Stay as long as you need to finish the wall. I’ll come back later and lock up.”

  She bolted through the door before he could stop her, and all but ran down Main Street toward the park. She had to go find the one person who always kept her grounded. The responsibilities of parenting Mel had always made Hailey come to her senses and act like an adult instead of a foolish young girl.

  Chapter Eight

  When Hailey got to the flea market in the park, she weaved through the crowd of people to find her daughter.

  People she hadn’t seen in years greeted her, and she gave them a polite smile and a “we’ll catch up soon” as she stayed in motion, searching through the swarm of bargain shoppers to find her mom and Mel. Finally, she saw the top of her mom’s head, standing under a banner that read Animal Rescue & Pet Adoption.

  Oy. Hailey headed in that direction.

  Brianna stepped into her path, stopping Hailey in her tracks. Her cousin tugged on her shirt sleeve. “Come with me. I want you to meet the Mommy Mafia.”

  “But—” Hailey was cut off when Brianna’s fingers, with their perfectly manicured nails, curved around her wrist. She dragged Hailey toward a group of four women.

  “No buts,” Brianna said. “You need to meet these ladies. They’ll be a great support group for you.”

  “You’re my support group,” Hailey protested.

  “I’m not a mother with young kids.” Brianna kept leading her toward the group who undoubtedly made up the Mommy Mafia.

  Hailey wasn’t sure if the group’s name should make her grateful or frightened.

  Brianna paused. “What are you wearing, by the way? Men’s clothing isn’t your usual.”

  “What are you talking about?” Hailey looked down at her attire. She’d put on Dylan’s black T-shirt instead of her own. “Oh. Damn.” She gave Brianna a smile that she really didn’t feel in her heart. “Long story.”

  “Okay, tell me l
ater.” Brianna led Hailey over to the group, which stood under a big oak tree by a display of musical instruments and a table piled high with children’s books. A professionally printed sign hung on the tree that said Open your child’s mind to music with lessons by Lorenda. “Hello, ladies. Some of you haven’t met my cousin, Hailey.” Brianna introduced the entire group, one at a time. “Ella has been to the salon already.”

  Yep. Hailey had done Ella’s beautiful, strawberry blonde hair. And Hailey had stopped secretly hating her once she found out Ella was happily married and hadn’t been hitting on Dylan out on the sidewalk on Hailey’s first day of work.

  “This is Angelique Barbetta-Holloway,” Brianna continued. “She’s our local hotshot lawyer.”

  The next member of the Mommy Mafia—a pretty brunette with long, wavy hair—had been the closest to Hailey in age when they were growing up. “Miranda Oaks runs the Bea in the Bonnet Inn.” Ah, her last name used to be Cruz.

  Last was a tall blonde, which Hailey remembered because she’d been raised in Red River, too, even though she’d been ahead of Hailey in school. “And this is Lorenda Lawson, Red River’s best realtor and future music teacher.”

  That explained the instruments and the sign that advertised music lessons.

  Once they did the meet and greet thing, Ella spoke up. “Don’t you have a daughter?”

  “Yes,” Hailey said, pointing over a shoulder. “She’s with my mom, looking at the pets.”

  Every member of the Mommy Mafia groaned.

  “Dog or cat?” Angelique asked.

  “Dog.” Hailey chuckled. “My daughter wants a puppy, actually.”

  “You’re toast,” Lorenda said. “Don’t even try to fight it. Just give in and let her pick out the one she wants. Then bring her over to meet our horde of munchkins.”

  Miranda pointed to a group of four big and built men about twenty feet away who were surrounded by a passel of kids ranging in age from eight or nine to toddlers. “They belong to us. The men and the kids.” A few of the guys Hailey remembered, but didn’t know well because they’d been so far ahead of her in school.