by Liz Gavin
Still smiling, Izzie turned to Tristan and kissed his lips. “The next couple of days will be crazy busy with the final tests and preparing to leave.”
“I sat in a meeting with Noah and Nelson and we discussed the restaurant since I’ll be gone for at least three months, but my biggest concern is my mom.”
“She’s happy we’re doing this.” Izzie tried to make light of it, so he wouldn’t feel bad, but she knew why he worried.
“That’s not it. It’s her health.”
“She’s going to be fine. You’ll be back soon.”
“What if I don’t want to come back?”
Izzie’s heart thudded against her chest like the percussion section of one of those Carnaval groups she had seen on TV. Could she dare hope?
Much to her surprise, she replied, “I don’t believe I’m saying this, but let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. First, let’s give our son a future.”
“I like the sound of that.”
14
Tristan
Noah would not let it go. Tristan knew that. Still, wasting his last day in Brazil riffing away on his guitar didn’t make much sense to him.
“What part of no didn’t you get the first ten times I said it?”
“Come on, Big T. Let rock and roll take your mind off things for a while.”
That gave Tristan pause. Noah made a valid point. Rock had always had that escapist effect on him.
“Okay, okay,” he agreed. When Noah got overly enthusiastic and crushed him in a tight embrace, he added, “Just for a couple of hours. I’ve got a lot to take care of before I leave tomorrow.”
“That’s all we need.” Noah hopped out of the living room toward the spare room they had turned into a soundproof home studio. Before he got there, Tristan heard him talking on the phone. “We’re in. How long until you get here?”
Tristan went to his room to finish packing before Noah’s two other friends arrived for a jam session. Noah kept referring to them as band mates, but Tristan hadn’t been convinced they were a band. They didn’t even have a name. Noah was obsessed with the idea of putting together a rock band, but Tristan viewed that as an excuse not to grow up. Still, he enjoyed playing around with his guitar.
As he rolled briefs and t-shirts, placing them in the suitcase, Tristan recalled what he knew about Aidan and Duke. He had heard Aidan Gallagher play bass, the Irish was a decent musician. He had been hanging out in Chez Nous a lot lately, Tristan believed because of a certain sassy blonde in its staff, but he couldn’t be sure. Ricardo Alcantara, a.k.a. Duke, was a complete mystery to Tristan. They hadn’t met yet, but Noah praised the guy’s voice, so Tristan believed he was good.
“I’ll get it,” Noah shouted when the doorbell rang.
Tristan heard him greeting both Aidan and Duke as he fastened the zipper in the hard-shell gray suitcase. He stepped out of the bedroom as the three men headed for the studio. Noah made the introductions and they reached the spacious studio, where they kept Noah’s drum set and Tristan’s guitars. When they entered the room, and Aidan grabbed a bass guitar that leaned against a metal stand Tristan had never seen before, he realized the studio had also been housing the bass player’s instrument. In fact, observing Noah, Aidan, and Duke together, he noticed a level of ease and familiarity that could only have stemmed from constant interactions.
Good thing he wasn’t a jealous person.
“You’ve been going a lot to Chez Nous lately.” Tristan addressed Aidan as they turned on the amplifiers and tuned their instruments. “I bet it’s more than the food that draws you in.”
Aidan’s Irish paleness hadn’t acquired a tropical tan yet, so his smooth cheeks turned a bright shade of rose at Tristan’s comment. “Busted. Chef Durand’s cooking is great, but I’m trying to convince Moira to give me a chance,” he admitted, tucking a strand of his dark brown, shoulder-long hair behind his ear.
Tristan snapped his head up and held Aidan’s stare for a while. “I thought as much. Noah is the best people person I know, so I trust his guts, which means I’m sure you must be a good guy. But Moira is an exceptional woman I admire and respect. You do right by her or else, mister.”
“Big T., stop harassing the man,” Noah intervened. “He’s a great kid.”
“Thanks, I guess. You make it sound like I’m thirteen or something, though.”
“You older than that?” Tristan taunted him.
“Just turned twenty-three.”
Tristan snorted. “Way more than thirteen.”
“Fuck off.” Aidan chuckled and resumed adjusting his bass guitar.
“What are we playing?” Duke inquired as he placed three stools in front of Noah’s set.
“I play standing,” Aidan and Tristan informed in unison.
Duke shrugged and perched in a stool he set between the two men. “Should we keep working on those songs?”
Tristan cut his stare to Noah. “We’ve been working on a few songs, T. We’d love for you to listen to them.”
“Sure.”
“Mind if I borrow one of your guitars?” Duke asked Tristan.
“Not at all. Go ahead.”
In the next hour, Tristan found out why Noah insisted on calling those men his band mates. They’ve created a lot of songs, all impressive material. Being a quick study, he was able to follow Duke’s lead and play along with them.
“You guys have been busy. Great job,” he complimented when they took a break.
Noah’s face split in a wide grin before he went to the kitchen to fetch bottles of water and sandwiches for them. “Told you so, Big T. You never listen to me.”
“Yeah, right.” Tristan smiled. Noah knew how much his advice had helped Tristan. He was goofing off. “Speaking of which, have you thought about getting some gigs?”
Duke jumped in. “My cousin owns a bar where they play live music. I could convince him to give us a chance.”
“That might work. Chez Nous wouldn’t be a proper place for us to do that,” Noah explained.
“Of course,” Aidan agreed. “Where’s your cousin’s bar?”
“Lagoa. It’s called Little Suzy, have you been?”
“Yeah. I love it there. They’ve got three separate lounges, I think. One for live music, one for dancing to a DJ, and a sports bar. It’s a funny mix.”
“My cousin owns the local soccer team, so that kind of makes sense.”
They laughed, but Tristan searched Noah’s eyes and discreetly nodded toward Duke and mouthed, “What’s the deal with the guy?” Noah shrugged and offered Tristan his best non-committal face.
Earlier Duke had mentioned his family owned a few luxury hotels in the city, including the one where Izzie was staying. Now he was talking about an apparently large entertainment complex plus a soccer team, which happened to be a national passion in Brazil.
“It sounds like you don’t need to be in a band for the money,” Tristan noted.
Duke didn’t flinch. “True. Neither do you and Noah. Aidan?”
He chuckled. “We’re not comparing bank accounts here, are we? Is this a new version of pissing contest? Let’s just say that I’d beat your asses in either contest.”
“Yeah, let’s go with that.” Noah patted Aidan’s back on his way to his drum set. Once settled on his stool, he ruffled the drums and hit the cymbal. “We’re not in this for the dough, just for the dolls.”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “God, you’re lame.”
“Shame, shame,” Duke agreed. “Good thing you’re not the lyricist.
“Amen.” Noah and Aidan said at the same time.
“I’ve got a lot of catching up to do, by the way.” Tristan realized he would have to write the lyrics to those songs his band mates had composed.
“You’re in, then?” Noah exulted.
Tristan sighed and smiled. “Guess so, man.”
“That calls for a celebration,” Noah shouted over the intro to one of his favorite rock songs by U2. The martial beat lifted Tristan’s s
pirit, as always and he joined his guitar and Aidan jumped right in.
When Duke sang the first verse, Tristan snapped his head up and gawked. He heard Noah’s laughter and looked his way, receiving a wink from the drummer. Duke had a fucking powerful voice. A perfect mix between sandpaper roughness and malt whiskey warmth. Tristan hadn’t heard the man earlier, since they had played only the new material, which had no lyrics. If he hadn’t already agreed to being in the band, he would beg them to let him in now that he heard Duke’s voice.
From that energizing song, they went on to play a whole set of U2 oldies and recent songs. Duke’s soulful rendition of yet another classic ballad recorded by the Irish group in the beginning of the nineties, Tristan choked. Memories of Izzie’s prom ball combined with the lyrics about disappointments and breakups made him close his eyes let the music take him where it would. He used to play that song for Izzie because it was one of her favorite tunes.
When he reopened his eyes, she had materialized inside their studio, leaning against the closed door. She smiled at him, but he noticed her eyes were sparking with unshed tears. Duke delivered the verses about love being a temple and the lover hurting her partner, and it took all Tristan had not to ditch the guitar and hold Izzie, make the pain go away from her expression. She mouthed, “Forgive me.” And he made a mental note to reassure her later that she had nothing to apologize for. Right now, he winked and blew her a kiss. She pretended to catch it in the air and place it on her heart. Just like she used to do when they were on tour. She’d be on the stage and Tristan in the pit between the stage and the audience.
When they finished playing the cover song, Izzie clapped with enthusiasm. “When are you guys going into the studio? I want in.”
“How do you mean?” Noah asked, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.
“I want to record a song with – what’s the name of your band?” She turned to gaze at Tristan.
“I don’t know. I’m the last one in.”
“How about Noah’s Arc?” Duke suggested.
“I don’t like it,” Noah deadpanned. “How does Knight’s Men sound?”
Tristan shook his head. “Horrible. People will wonder if we’re a bad porn movie or a group of strippers.”
“I know,” Aidan squealed, making four pairs of eyes zero in on him.
“Dude, did you just scream like a little girl?” Duke teased him.
“Fuck you.” Aidan laughed. “Knight’s Edge would be perfect. A play with the words night and Tristan’s name, Knight. Plus, and I don’t fucking believe I’m about to say this, Tristan’s a better guitarist than The Edge, so it’d be fitting.”
Tristan guffawed at the suggestion, but his laughter died out when the others didn’t join him. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You guys liked that?”
“The Edge is my personal guitar hero, man. If I say you’re better than him, I mean it. You’re a fucking genius,” Aidan explained.
“I like the sound of it. Knight’s Edge.” Duke nodded, elongating the syllables as if savoring them. “It’s got a good ring to it.”
Noah smiled. “I love it. It’s settled. Ms. Izzie Anderson, I give you Knight’s Edge.” He bowed and indicated his band mates with a sweeping movement of his hand.
15
Izzie
Strolling along Beira-Mar Norte boardwalk toward her hotel, fingers laced through Tristan’s, Izzie gazed out into the setting sun. Up until she came to Florianopolis, she considered LA’s dramatic sunsets to be unbeatable. She was wrong. The huge ball of fire descending into the turquoise swaying waters in front of her had to be the most fascinating sunset she had ever witnessed.
They slowed to a stop and she welcomed the warmth of Tristan’s body as he encircled her in a loose embrace, turning her body to face the horizon, and standing behind her. She leaned back, their bodies fitting like pieces of a puzzle, and rested her head on his chest. She wished they could fit together that perfectly again. Both had built their lives thousands of miles apart, both had family responsibilities they would never shy away from.
As if reading her mind, Tristan whispered, “Life never gets easier, does it?”
She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
The sun hung on the horizon, its upper half reflected in the waves creating a hypnotic optical illusion.
Tristan broke the comfortable silence again. “It’s like the song says, love. We’re not the same, but we can be like one. We’ll find a way.”
Izzie’s heart flipped a couple of cartwheels at the endearment. It took her a moment to process the meaning of his words. She abandoned her contemplation and swirled inside his arms.
“God, I missed this look,” she whispered, locking her fingers behind his neck.
He hooked his fingers on her forearms. “This old thing? I’ve got this shirt for a bargain at the mall.”
“Silly. I mean your eyes. I missed the way they twinkled when you looked at me.”
“I know what you mean. I missed you. Period.”
He dipped his head and she met his mouth halfway. Even though she would have gladly torn at his clothes and jumped his bones right there and then, Izzie was aware they stood in the middle of a busy boardwalk, on a balmy late summer afternoon. She didn’t want to land in jail.
Sighing, she pulled away and held his stare. He smiled. “I’d better get you to that hotel room before I get us arrested.”
“My thoughts exactly.” She giggled, then yelped, when he scooped her up in his arms and jogged across the avenue before the pedestrian crossing light turned red. “You cave man, put me down.”
“Your legs are too short. I’m in a hurry.”
He could be stubborn, so she leaned her head on his shoulder and enjoyed the ride. The hotel marquis popped up a couple of yards ahead of them and she begged, “Put me down. I don’t want to cause a scene.”
His arms tightened around her, and she thought he would argue her point, but he settled her on the floor. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her behind him, “I wouldn’t make it easier for the paparazzi. I’m still in a hurry, though.”
“I hear you.”
Izzie spotted a couple of photographers standing at the far corner of the hotel lobby, close to the restaurant entrance. Tristan’s huff signaled he had seen them too. Luckily, they didn’t have to wait for the elevator. They climbed inside the metal cage and Tristan pushed the penthouse button a couple of times before Izzie swiped the key card to authorize access to that floor.
She stood on her tip-toes kissed and kissed his cheek. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
His expression turned from chagrined to self-mockery. “My memory was so much better before I turned forty.”
“Silly.” She checked him out from head to toe and then back again. “I’m glad to say that might be the only thing going down for you there.”
His eyes rounded, but he recovered quickly from the shock. With one step, he pinned her against the side wall, bracing his arms on either side of her head, his erection poking at her belly. She never felt more alive. She grabbed his bulging upper arms and tipped her head back, straining her neck, to hold his stare. Defiant and provocative, she rolled her hips, rubbing his hard-on. He hissed, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. With a sharp intake of air, he thrust forward and stopped her movement. “Behave, woman. They’ve got cameras in here.”
She whispered, “I know.”
The elevator doors opened, and they scurried out. Tristan stole the key card from her fingers and opened the suite door in record time. Once inside, he pinned her to the door and smashed his mouth over her expecting lips. Izzie pulled herself up, embracing his waist with her legs, crossing her feet on his back, and digging her elbows on his shoulders. He cupped her butt and held her in place as he deepened the kiss. She pulled his hair, hungry for his touch, wanting to mark him as hers. She swirled her tongue around his, digging her nails in his neck as he sucked her lower lip. Her thin panties turned damp against her skin
as he rubbed his jeans-clad cock against them, her nipples pierced her bra as they rubbed against his chest.
She reached between their bodies and unbuttoned his jeans, muttering in-between kisses, “Too many clothes.”
“Oh, yeah.”
His out-of-breath agreement was all she needed. She freed his cock and closed her fingers around it, guiding the pulsing flesh to her entrance. It twitched under her touch and a droplet of moisture transferred from its tip to her finger. She raised it to her lips and sucked at it.
Eyes glued to her mouth, Tristan moaned and reached inside his pocket producing a condom wrapper that she swiftly opened and helped him cover his cock. Anticipation and the rush of adrenaline made her lips dry, so she wetted them with her tongue.
Tristan thrust up inside her with one movement, filling her to the brim, and covering her mouth with his. She groaned inside his lips, rocking her hips, tightening her thighs around his waist. He pulled his hip back until her body gripped only the tip of his cock, then nailed her against the door, jamming her sweet spot with his crotch, and making her climax with an explosive orgasm she did not see coming.
“Oh, my fucking God,” she cried out, digging her heels in his butt, quivering around his cock, gasping for air.
Grunting, Tristan swayed his hips back and forth, increasing his speed, as more waves of pleasure broke over Izzie’s skin, making her drip her arousal on his sheathed cock as dark spots clouded her vision. She locked her lips on his, biting the soft flesh of his full lower lip and drinking his groans as his cock unloaded. The warmth of the jets caressed her inside walls even through the thin latex, and she smiled against his cheek as he slowed the pace of his stabbing hips.
When his deflating member abandoned her body, Izzie dropped her legs and stood, still crutching his shoulders for support, limbs too shaky to hold her upright.
Tristan mumbled, “I will not be able to walk straight tomorrow, but I don’t give a damn. This was so worth the limp.”