Drive

by Stephanie Fournet

  So even though the person he wanted to talk to was just out of his reach, and his break between sets wouldn’t be very long, Jacques didn’t have the heart to just brush off the guy.

  “Yeah, it’s a shame,” Jacques echoed, but for the first time, he didn’t feel the sentiment behind the words. Heroine had something, and when he thought about the band and the potential they brought together, he felt the air around him charge with an almost sentient energy. Maybe Arnie would feel that too. “But I got something new in the works, Arnie.”

  The barfly — who wasn’t drunk yet but had a good start — cocked his head and seemed to read the light in Jacques’s eyes.

  “Whatchoo mean?”

  “Can’t talk about it now. There’s somebody here to see me, and I don’t want to keep her waiting, but stick around tonight, and you’ll find out what I mean.”

  As he said the words, he felt a hand settle on his forearm. Jacques turned and there was Rainey, her eyes smiling a shy smile, and at the sight of it and the touch of her hand, his heart turned over.

  “Hey,” he said, reaching his arm around her waist and hugging her to him. And this, too, the feel of her softness pressed into his side gave him a heady rush.

  “Hey,” she murmured, leaning into him.

  “Yep, I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting either,” Arnie muttered just loud enough for Rainey to hear.

  He felt more than heard her body laugh because just then the house sound system came on, blaring Robin Schulz to keep the party going between sets.

  Jacques nearly had to shout over the noise. “Want to go outside for a minute?” he asked Rainey.

  She gave him an eager nod, and that was all he needed.

  The front patio would be packed. With its own bar and wooden tables close enough to the music, it would only be slightly better than staying inside, so Jacques pulled Rainey to the back of the bistro, turned past the long bar, and took her outside to the courtyard. A few people lounged in wrought iron chairs, smoking and laughing, but Jacques moved past them to a bench along the back fence.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said, gesturing for her to sit. She did, and he settled himself beside her.

  “Thanks for asking me,” she said, the shyness still there in her voice, in her eyes. To dispel her nerves, Jacques claimed her hand, and he was rewarded when she spread her fingers and let his slip in among them. Then she looked him square in the eye. “You’re really, really good.”

  And when she said this, he heard no shyness, only certainty. She liked what she’d heard, and that felt amazing.

  “I’m glad you liked it. You should stick around,” he said, hoping like hell she would. “The girls from Heroine — my new band — are joining me later, and that’s going to be even better.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise. “Really?” But the look behind her surprise wasn’t excited. It looked… worried. “That’s… that’s great.”

  Her expression disappeared so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined it. Letting it go, he squeezed her hand and tried to make the most of his break.

  “How’s your sister?”

  Rainey gave a one-shoulder shrug. “She’s okay. She’s home, and she’s over the worst of the pneumonia, but she’s going to have to keep taking blood transfusions,” she said, wincing. “And she’s weak. When she’s a little stronger, they’re going to start trying some treatment meds, but I hear they aren’t fun.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, meaning it. She looked worried, and her look made him feel restless. At least Rainey wasn’t alone in looking after her sister. “Is her boyfriend with her now?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, but I waited for him to take a shower first. He works for Iberia Bank, and he’s getting his MBA, so I wanted to give him a few minutes,” she explained with a shrug. “Holi’s not the easiest patient. She’s always trying to do things she shouldn’t, and I didn’t want her going downstairs by herself. She’s so sick of being sick, she’d probably try it if given the chance.”

  “Man,” Jacques muttered, shaking his head. He figured one day he’d have to help Pal just like that, but he wasn’t looking forward to it. Not because he wasn’t onboard. Because Pal would hate it as much as Holi seemed to. “So, how’d you get here? I’d like to drive you home after the show if that’s not too late.”

  Even in the dimness of the courtyard’s fairy lights, he could see her eyes twinkle. “I’d like that, but I rode my bike.”

  All thoughts of fairy lights and shining eyes fled his brain. “You rode your bike?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she murmured with a nod.

  “Down Johnston Street?”

  “Yep.”

  “In the dark.” This time, he wasn’t asking, and he was sure his tone told her he wasn’t merely curious. Johnston Street had a bike lane, but it also had no shortage of asshole drivers. Jacques wanted to kick himself. He should have known she’d need a ride.

  “Yeah, it’s only like a mile.”

  Jacques frowned, and he asked the question he’d been wondering about her since they first met in his Impala. “Why didn’t you drive?”

  Her face went blank. Her eyes that sparkled a moment ago turned opaque like a statue’s. She took a few seconds to respond, and she looked away when she did.

  “Because I don’t drive,” she said quietly.

  Jacques thought of the Mini Cooper in her garage. After driving her twice, he’d assumed it must have been her sister’s. He’d guessed that Rainey simply didn’t have a car, which didn’t really make sense in a town like Lafayette, but what did he know?

  Still, she didn’t drive?

  “What do you mean? Like you don’t have a car… or you don’t drive at all?”

  She looked up at him then from under her lashes, and the corner of her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “Neither, really.”

  Touchy subject, Jacques warned himself. But he also guessed it was an important subject, so he let go of Rainey’s hand in order to wrap his arm around her and pull her close. Then he gentled his voice.

  “Babe, why don’t you drive at all?”

  She looked down at her knees, and he felt her sigh against him. “A while back, I was in a really bad car accident.” She brought her gaze back to his, and all he could see was a bottomless well of pain. He’d seen pain like that up close. In his father’s eyes. In Pal’s eyes. Both after they’d lost what could never be restored.

  “Really bad,” she added in a choked voice. Maybe he imagined it, but he thought he saw her shoulders tremble.

  Jacques nodded, pulled her tighter. “You lost somebody? Somebody close?”

  Her eyes went wide, her look almost startled. “H-how did you know that?”

  He felt his brow crease. “Rainey, it’s written all over your face.”

  She closed her eyes and tipped her face up to the night sky, inhaling deeply. Then she exhaled and faced him again. “I don’t really talk about this.”

  He shook his head. “Then don’t talk about it. I don’t need you to,” he whispered. He leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. When he drew back, the relief in her expression told him he’d said the right thing.

  Jacques gambled and hoped his next move would also be right. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away, he leaned in closer to her lips. And the only move she made was to tilt her head in welcome, so he accepted.

  Since Tuesday night on her front porch, he hadn’t been able to forget the taste of her. He’d swear on his life she tasted like raspberries. Like raspberries and longing. And the urge to have her again now sang in his blood, and it might sing there forever for all he knew.

  When his lips met hers, and the tip of his tongue ventured lightly between them, the tip of her tongue was there, ready and waiting. She opened further, welcoming him and drawing out the moan of pleasure that rattled through his chest and quickly brought him to his senses.

  He wanted to make out with Rainey — like for about a week — but he didn’t want to do
it in the courtyard of Artmosphere while God-only-knew who watched. He pulled back as slowly as he’d advanced, but he ran one hand down the softness of her cheek and held her tight in his other arm.

  “The first time I kissed you,” he whispered, loving the feel of her skin under his fingertips, “I couldn’t linger. Now I have a little more time but no space. I’m hoping next time I’ll have more of both.”

  He watched her swallow in a flustered, ridiculously cute way, and she nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

  His eyes fell to creamy expanse of skin that her sweater left bare. He wanted to bring his mouth to it, but he resisted. “I really like that sweater,” he said instead.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I made it.”

  Jacques’s jaw unhinged. “You made it?” He took the hem of the sweater between his fingers and tried to study it in the dim light. “You knit?!”

  “Crochet,” she said, pride evident in her smile.

  He rubbed the woven cashmere of the hem between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s incredible,” he said in a hushed voice. “You’re really good. This is what you should blog about.”

  Her light giggle rippled through the night air, tickling him and making him chuckle. She could so easily turn him into a fool, and for the first time in his life, Jacques didn’t care. With the fingers of his right hand, he traced the scalloped edge of her sweater where it hugged her left shoulder. When she shivered beneath his touch, it was all Jacques could do not to kiss her again. But he wouldn’t be denied long.

  Between driving and getting things going with Heroine, Jacques knew he’d be busier now than even when he was with Epoch, but he had no doubt about it. Making time to get to know Rainey was now a definite priority. And that thought returned him to the one that had been nagging at him for the last five minutes.

  “We’ll leave your bike here, and I’ll come back for it in the morning,” he announced.

  Jacques watched her blink at him, her head inching back so she could take him in. “Why?”

  He moved his fingers from her shoulder and took the hand in her lap. “I don’t like the idea of you riding it at night. Not down Johnston Street.”

  A crease appeared between her pretty brows. “I do it all the time,” she said.

  Squeezing her hand, Jacques laid it out. “Rainey, I like you, and I like where I think this is going.” He watched her eyebrows lift in surprise, and her lips parted on a slight gasp. Fucking adorable, he thought, wanting to taste them again. But he kept going before she could speak. “But I don’t like to worry. And, baby, I’d worry if I let you roll out of here on your bike. It’s not safe. If I know anything about anything, it’s how easily some wasted asshole can ruin lives. You’ve got no protection from that on a bike.”

  Rainey’s lips disappeared between her teeth. Her eyes rounded, and she nodded quickly. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he said, nodding too. “Glad that’s settled.”

  She cracked a shy smile then. “You like where you think this is going?” she asked meekly.

  Jacques threw back his head in laughter, clutching her to him. The few people who’d sought the quiet of the courtyard all turned toward his outburst, but he didn’t care. He tipped her face up to his and muffled his laughter against her lips while she shook with her own laughter in his arms.

  And then Jacques did what he’d wanted to do all night. He turned her left shoulder toward the shadowed fence, and in darkness, he kissed his way down her neck. Even in the veil of night, the glow of her skin rivaled the moon. Jacques pressed his lips to the erotic slope where her neck met her shoulder, and he let his tongue taste her flesh.

  The shuddering of her breath made his cock ache, and he moaned his hunger into her skin. He felt her fingers glide into the back of his hair and take hold. It was an unspoken claim, and he loved it.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

  “Jacques…” was her breathy reply. His name had always made him self-conscious. It was so Cajun, so conspicuous; as a kid, he would have traded it for the Americanized Jack in a heartbeat.

  But the way she softened the “J” of his name was sensual, and the consonant close of the c-q-u came from her throat, not her mouth, so his name was deeper inside of her in a way that made him dizzy.

  He let himself taste the sweetness of her a moment longer before pulling back. But when he did, he saw that her eyes were half-lidded, her lips glossy as if she’d just licked them. The animal in his blood wanted nothing more than to pick her up in his arms and run for the nearest cave. That half-lidded look belonged to him, and he wanted to guard it, to give her more, to watch it evolve.

  Instead, Jacques buried that urge. He needed to start the second part of his set. And Kate and the girls would probably arrive soon. He gripped Rainey’s hand.

  “C’mon, beautiful,” he said, getting to his feet and taking her with him. “I have a song I want you to hear.”

  Chapter 10

  I like where I think this is going.

  Rainey hadn’t stopped hearing those words echo in her head since they’d come back inside. That declaration and his kisses had left her a little drugged.

  They had even pulled her away from John Lee’s memory and the agony she felt every time she had to think about the accident.

  And Rainey wasn’t sure how she felt about that — how kisses and a few tempting words could draw her out of her greatest pain. Because it wasn’t something she could talk about without losing her shit for the better part of an hour or so.

  And in that hour, crochet helped. Books helped. Music helped. Archie helped. But even with those, it was about an hour before the vise of pain opened enough for her to exist with any sense of peace. Talking about it never helped. People always said the same thing.

  It wasn’t your fault.

  It wasn’t your fault.

  It wasn’t your fault.

  Everyone she knew — and even people she didn’t — had told her again and again. Her parents. Holi. The police at the scene. Her friends at school. Chase, her high school boyfriend. And, later, Anne Marie, her therapist.

  And Rainey knew the accident wasn’t her fault. She had come to a full stop at the light on Pinhook Road and Evangeline Thruway. She remembered the light turning green. She remembered checking to make sure the intersection was clear. She remembered John Lee’s gasp before an explosion of glass and airbags.

  And then nothing.

  And then nothing was ever the same. Not after her little brother died right beside her.

  So how could she even speak the word “accident” with Jacques one minute and kiss him the next — her whole being, body and mind, focused entirely on that kiss? Nothing like that had ever happened.

  Was it wrong? And was it wrong that when he said, “I like where I think this is going,” she’d let herself wonder where that might be?

  As she stood against the pillar in Artmosphere, her eyes on the stage where Jacques was picking up his acoustic guitar, she also wondered why he was different from everyone else. Why he said exactly what he was thinking but let her keep her thoughts and secrets to herself?

  She watched him lift the guitar strap and pull it over his head, and as he did, his eyes met hers, and he winked. A tummy flutter that probably registered on the Richter scale ran through her.

  He absolutely was different from anyone in her life. And from anyone who used to be in her life. The thought both thrilled and terrified her.

  Jacques stepped up to the microphone. “Everybody feeling good now?” he purred. His voice — that deep, resonant, captivating voice — poured over the crowd, touching every single person.

  But it did more than touch Rainey. It invaded her.

  The crowd, which had grown since Jacques’s first set, cheered in response. How could they not? Clearly, they were feeling good, and his voice that brimmed with seduction and easy confidence told them they were about to feel even better.

  “Alright,” he said, looking so at home on stage — so
mething she could never imagine. “Let’s go. Here’s something I wrote not too long ago. It’s called “Back to Mine.” It sorta fits the mood I’ve been in.”

  Rainey drew in a surprised breath as Jacques strummed an up-tempo rhythm. He leaned into the microphone in a way that drew her eyes to his tapered waist. To his fitted gray T-shirt and his faded jeans that hung on his lean hips.

  She dragged her eyes up to lock with his as he started singing, and her mouth dried up.

  The mirror says you’re still a young man,

  But you’re not getting any younger.

  What of your dreams and all those grand plans?

  Have you let them steal your hunger?

  Mine’s just a whisper in a dark well

  No other voices rising with it.

  How will it reach up to the surface?

  How will it overcome the distance?

  These questions haunt me when it’s quiet.

  Like monsters only I can see.

  I should be strong enough to slay them,

  But they’re already eating me.

  Rainey felt the song grab her and hold tight. Like monsters only I can see… I should be strong enough to slay them… But they’re already eating me. She thought she could have written those lines. She lived them every day. Did Jacques live them too?

  The very thought stilled her breath.

  Yeah, they’re already eating me.

  And have they eaten part of you?

  If we put our backs together,

  Maybe there’s something we could do.

  Put your back to mine

  And your feet against that wall

  You step. I step.

  And this time we won’t fall

  Put your back to mine

  And neither one looks down.

  If the beast bites you,

  I’ll kick him to the ground.

  Put your back to mine.

  It gets easier, you’ll see.

  When the fiend grabs hold,

  I know you’ll set me free.

  Put your back to mine.

  Put your back to mine.