“We should get some rest,” he murmured. Rainey nodded, so Jacques reached for the remote and flicked off the TV, plunging the room in darkness.
“Goodnight, Jacques,” she whispered, her breath feathering against his neck. Her hand smoothed against his chest as she said the words, and his abs clenched in bliss.
“Goodnight, Rainey.” Permission to touch her, to hold her all night saturated him with a stunning sense of rightness. He should have felt content, and in a sense, he did. But Jacques also couldn’t deny that having her so close pushed him to the edge of endurance. His desire for Rainey was beyond anything he’d even known. And on the frayed edges of his desire and the blanket of contentment, he was aware of the texture of fear.
The fear that he would know this contentment only to lose it.
So, when Rainey’s breath evened out and her arm across his chest went slack as she slid into sleep, he could not follow. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out the exquisite silhouette of her shape in the shadows. The diffused light seeping through the hotel blinds lit her skin with an almost otherworldly luminescence, as though she belonged to Picasso’s Blue Period.
Jacques had been in love before, and he knew its sting. He had loved Emmie, his high school sweetheart. Loving her had swallowed nearly five years of his life. Because Jacques was pretty sure he’d loved Emmie even before his ill-fated afternoon in her driveway. They’d dated for four years — until a week after he’d dropped out of college. And it was because he’d dropped out that she ended it.
She loved him, Emmie had sworn. She’d never deny that. But she expected a certain life, and it wasn’t one a starving musician could build with her. At the time, he didn’t know what hurt more: that she didn’t believe in his dream the way he did or that, even if she didn’t, she couldn’t accept him as he was. That who he was, successful or not, wasn’t enough for her. Because no matter what, he’d argued, he would have taken care of her. Even if it meant working a day job for the rest of his life so he could play on nights and weekends. He said as much to her the day she told him it was over, trying like hell to make her change her mind.
Lying next to Rainey, he remembered that day and how he felt he’d been cored like an apple. Like everything at his center, body and soul, had been unceremoniously sliced away, leaving a hole practically everyone could peer through. How it had felt almost the same as losing his parents. Emmie became another person who had chosen something else over him.
What scared him most now was that it could happen again with Rainey. And Jacques was beginning to believe it would hurt just as much. Maybe more. If he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit that he was falling hard and fast. And the truth of the matter was — whatever she might feel for him — Rainey seemed to have tighter control over her heart.
She’d set boundaries to protect herself. Maybe he needed to do the same.
He thought about their trip. He’d wanted to prove to her that she could trust him. He’d wanted for the trip to be a test he could pass. But maybe it was a test for both of them. If she couldn’t trust him, maybe it would be safer to pull back.
He sighed, thinking about the weeks that had followed the Artmosphere show. Even if he chose to let go, would he be able to?
Rainey made a soft whine in her sleep, a muffled, dream-laden distress call, and Jacques instinctively held her tighter. He felt her fingers grip a handful of his shirt as though she were desperate to hold onto him. And even though he knew she probably wasn’t dreaming about him, imagining her needing him like that made his heart turn over in his chest.
No, he thought with grim certainty, I don’t think I could let go even if I wanted to.
Chapter 22
Rainey opened her eyes. Even in the reassurance of the morning light, the dream still haunted her. It felt like the dream she’d had so many times in the last six years, but this one was oddly unique.
Instead of being behind the wheel of her family’s Jeep Wrangler when her world exploded, she was driving — of all things — Jacques’s Impala. And when she turned to see John Lee the instant before glass and metal and force and speed rearranged all the atoms in her universe, her eyes didn’t land on her brother.
Instead, it was Jacques who sat beside her.
He was looking at her. Right into her eyes. And the look in his deep brown wells was so heartbreakingly sad.
Instead of screaming like she had that awful day, Rainey wept. Time slowed to a painful crawl as the Escalade bore down on them, and she had ages and ages to feel with helpless certainty that she would lose Jacques, too.
Endless, bottomless grief rose like flood waters over her heart, her shoulders, her neck, until she opened her mouth to cry out and drowned in sorrow.
A slice of sunlight now fell across her face, and even though the reassurance of Jacques’s warm, solid body surrounded her, she still could not wrest from the dream’s grip.
During the night, she must have turned onto her left side, because now he spooned her possessively, his right arm hooked around her waist. His right leg scissored over hers. If she could turn off her brain, Rainey knew it would feel heavenly.
Maybe if she fell asleep again, she could wash away the remnants of the nightmare. Rainey closed her eyes and tried to relax her mind, but apparently sensing her wakefulness, Archie got to his feet and stretched his front legs before him, his neck reaching out as his chin ducked low before boosting his chest up high to point each leg behind him in turn.
He gave a noisy, tongue-curling yawn before he sat on his bottom right in front of her, tapped her with a paw, and began panting impatiently. Clearly, it was time to feed and walk her dog.
Rainey carefully lifted her head, glanced at her bedside clock, and discovered that it was just after nine in the morning. Regardless of her restless night and the draining dream, she’d slept quite late. The adventure of the day before must have worn Archie out too since he usually demanded to be fed no later than seven.
She wasn’t sure how she would be able to slip out of Jacques’s embrace, and the last thing she wanted to do was wake him. If his grandfather never let him sleep in, the least Rainey wanted to give him on this trip when he gave everything and would take nothing in return was the chance to enjoy a late morning in bed.
Still, she knew if she didn’t get a move on, Archie would start grumbling. And as if on cue, he let out a doggy huff of impatience.
Somehow, with steady movements and more than a little breath-holding, Rainey slid out from under Jacques’s glorious limbs, dressed as quietly as possible, and took Archie out for a walk.
Ten minutes later, on her way back to the room, Rainey stopped for coffee in the hotel’s dining room. Carrying two cups of hot coffee was no small feat considering that with the leash looped over her wrist instead of in her firm grip, Archie was free to pull in any direction and attempt to greet every other hotel guest or staff member.
She managed to make it back to their room without spilling a drop or tangling Archie’s leash around an unsuspecting bystander, and after a careful balancing maneuver, she opened the door again as quietly as possible.
Which must have been why she walked in to see Jacques’s backside in all its glory.
And, oh, glory.
“Oh, glory!” Rainey’s startled shout probably wasn’t the best way to let him know she’d returned.
“Fuck!” Rainey heard his curse even as she slammed her eyes shut. How she managed to spin 180 degrees on her heel without spilling a drop of coffee, she’d never know.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she pleaded. “I should have knocked.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Jacques grumbled, his voice gruff and exceptionally deep first thing in the morning.
Rainey heard the distinct trill of a zipper, but she resisted the urge to turn around. Her eyes might have been facing the door, but she wasn’t seeing the rectangle of wood or the nearby fire escape diagram tacked the wall.
Oh, no. All her mind saw wa
s the head-to-toe unparalleled male beauty of Jacques Gilchrist, and Rainey suspected she’d never be the same.
“Coast is clear,” he murmured. Then she heard him give a gravelly chuckle. “I’m such an idiot.”
Figuring it was truly safe to turn around, Rainey did, but she found that she couldn’t lift her eyes to meet his. Instead, they took in his bare feet and his legs now clad in jeans.
“I woke up, and you and Archie were gone.”
At his words, she did look up and instantly decided that was a good choice. Jacques was blushing, but he wasn’t shame-faced. Instead, he seemed to laugh at himself, his rueful grin absolutely irresistible tinted in pink. It contrasted deliciously with the snug black T-shirt he wore.
“I was getting dressed to go look for you. I should have been patient.”
The pink of his skin deepened a shade. And then Rainey felt her own cheeks color as she found herself wondering if he knew he’d just redefined male beauty as far as she was concerned. Jacques had ruined her for any other man, no matter how shapely his posterior might be.
“W-we went for a walk, and I got us coffee on the way back,” she stammered, holding out the obvious containers. “This one’s yours.” She handed him the one in her right hand, the hand that wasn’t tethered to Archie’s leash and stood the best chance of survival for their haphazard journey.
Jacques stepped up to her and took it, looking inordinately pleased. “Thanks.”
It struck Rainey that if she were just a little bit stronger — if she could live a slightly bigger life— she likely would have seen every part of him already. Seen him. Touched him. Gripped him.
Tasted him.
On a swallow, she shook such thoughts from her head. No good could come from playing What if. She set her own coffee down on the hotel dresser and proceeded to serve Archie his breakfast from the little plastic container of dog food she’d packed.
“When should we hit the road?” Rainey asked, ducking into the bathroom to wash her hands and do something about her hair. In her effort to get out of the room without waking Jacques, she’d just stuck it in a ponytail, but if they were going to meet Gloria Lopez-Craine — and especially if she was going to meet her brother for the first time — she wanted to be presentable.
“Bowling Green’s still a three-and-a-half-hour drive from here,” he called from the bedroom.
In the mirror, she could see him sitting on the edge of the spare bed, donning his shoes. As she brushed her hair, he rose and walked into the living area of the suite with his coffee.
When he stepped into view, his eyes widened a fraction, and his gaze moved back and forth from her hair to her eyes.
“What?” she asked nervously, checking her reflection in the mirror. Did she have a wayward curl sticking up in the back?
“Your hair,” Jacques said, sounding awestruck. “You usually pull it back with a barrette or wear it in a ponytail.”
Her face went hot again. “Yeah,” she muttered. “It can get kind of out of control if I don’t put it up.”
“It’s beautiful.” His words were a low hush that she felt in her belly.
He was only a few paces from her, but he suddenly seemed so far away. She’d spent the night in his arms, aware of his body’s heat, the power in his muscles, the insistence of his embrace. It felt almost like a punishment that she couldn’t touch him now.
She reached for her barrette, and Jacques’s hand shot forward and stayed hers. “Leave it down today.”
Rainey blinked in astonishment. “Why?”
The corner of his mouth hooked in his signature grin. “Because it looks amazing—”
“But—” She started to protest, but Jacques just shook his head.
“No, just listen. We’re going to meet Gloria Lopez-Craine. She’s a hairdresser. She’ll be powerless against you once she sees that hair.”
Rainey could only roll her eyes.
“Besides,” he said, his brows lifting in promise. “I have a plan.”
“Glorious Locks takes walk-ins,” Jacques said as they merged onto 1-65, headed toward Nashville. “I’ll be the walk-in.”
Rainey took in his devil-may-care rock star hair. “You’re going to let her cut your hair?” Rainey asked with apprehension.
He shrugged with a half grin. “It’s just hair. If she butchers it, it’ll grow back.”
Rainey gaped at him with open disbelief. He laughed. “What?”
“Every musician I’ve ever known — male or female — has been almost obnoxiously protective about their hair.”
Jacques’s laughter rattled the windows of the Impala. “Well, you can’t say that anymore.”
They stopped for lunch in Nashville at the Sunflower Cafe off I-65. Rainey had left her hair down at Jacques’s request, and as they sat outside at one of the picnic tables, the breeze would lift her curls or blow them into her face. More than once, Jacques reached over and tucked a loose lock behind her ear while they ate. Every time he did, he wore a secret smile that made Rainey’s heart thump clumsily in her chest, and her face, her breasts, and places further south would flush with heat.
A little after two o’clock that afternoon, they rolled into Bowling Green and found Glorious Locks Salon. It was located in a tiny strip mall off an access road of Highway 231. The strip mall, despite its meager size, was actually kind of posh with a boutique dress shop on one side and a sushi bar on the other.
Jacques eased the Impala into a spot in the middle of the parking lot, not directly in front of the salon, but a few doors down. He killed the engine, and Rainey blew out a nervous breath.
He glanced over at her. “You ready for this?”
She gulped. “I thought I had everything I’d want to say planned out in my head, but now that we’re here, I’m afraid I’ll walk in there and just vomit it up all at once.”
Jacques gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll go in first, like we talked about. If I have to wait for an appointment with Gloria, I’ll wait—”
“What if she’s booked for the day,” Rainey fretted.
He just shook his head. “Look at the parking lot. There’s two empty spaces in front of her salon,” he reassured. “She’ll be able to take me. Besides, guy haircuts take like fifteen minutes. She can fit me in while one of her ladies is under the dryer.”
Rainey gazed at him in bemused amazement. “How do you know that?”
“Because…” He chuckled. “…that’s always what happens when I get my hair cut.”
She nodded, his words and his usual easy confidence giving her a modicum of strength. It was a good idea, Rainey knew, to let him go in first, sit in Gloria’s chair, and talk to her before she came in. The plan was to introduce Rainey slowly. She’d come in as Jacques’s girlfriend, take a seat, and start talking to him about her sick sister. She’d tell Holi’s story and talk about her disappearing options while Gloria worked and listened as a captive audience — hopefully an engaged and sympathetic audience. When Gloria had finished with Jacques’s cut, they’d come clean about who they were and ask for her help, letting her know they’d be in town overnight if she wanted to talk or give them a chance to meet Ray Charles.
They had no guarantees she’d help, but Jacques and Rainey agreed it was the best way to get Gloria to listen under the circumstances.
Rainey watched the front of the salon and chewed on her lip. “I’m just nervous about screwing up.”
Jacques reached toward her and clasped her hand in his. “You won’t screw up,” he promised, peering into her eyes with certainty and a strength she could never hope to have. “Besides, I’ll be there to help keep you on track.”
Nodding, Rainey filled her lungs with a deep breath. “Okay,” she breathed out.
Jacques reached into the backseat, dug through his duffel bag, and pulled something from it. Rainey frowned.
“Is that Pez?” she asked, confused.
She watched Jacques’s complexion color for the second time that day. “It’s for Ra
y Charles.” He held up the package featuring a cartoon character. “I hear nine-year-old boys like Despicable Me.”
A smile broke out over Rainey’s face. “That’s awesome. Why didn’t I think of that?” she asked aloud.
Jacques shrugged, grinning back at her. “If you did, then you wouldn’t need me.” He didn’t give her any time to respond to that remark, handing her the dispenser. “I think you should give it to him if we get the chance to meet him.”
“But Jacques,” she protested, trying to hand it back, the sweetness of the gesture touching her heart. “You bought it. You should give it to him.”
Jacques merely shook his head. “It should come from you. You’re his sister,” he said, effectively ending the discussion. Then he glanced to the back seat. “What are we going to do about Archie?”
The windy morning in Nashville had turned into a blustery afternoon in Bowling Green. The sky was dark to their west, but it still looked like they had a while before rain fell. “He’ll be alright here. I just need to walk him first.”
“Want me to wait for you before I go in?”
Rainey shook her head. “No. Go in and get started. Walking Archie while I wait for your text will be a lot better than sitting still.”
Jacques gave her a smile. A tender, warm-her-forever smile. “Rainey, it’s going to be okay.” He squeezed her hand as he spoke, and the gratitude she felt for the man by her side made a lump form in her throat that was hard to ignore.
Since she couldn’t speak, she just nodded fiercely.
“Ready?” he asked, tilting his head to the side to eye her closely.
“Yeah,” she managed finally.
Jacques squeezed her hand again before letting it go. “Okay. Let’s do this. I’ll text you as soon as I can.”
Rainey’s heart started an almost painful chugging, and her pores spontaneously opened. “Okay,” she said on a shaky breath.
They both opened the doors of the Impala and stepped out. The breeze whipped hair into her face, and the air smelled of rain and springtime. She tucked the candy into her skirt pocket as he watched Jacques set off across the parking lot, and his monstrous strides had him halfway to the salon before Rainey could clip on Archie’s leash. It didn’t help that her fingers were trembling and she had to use one hand to hold down her skater skirt against the wind.
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