Strung Out (Needles and Pins #1)

by Lyrica Creed

  “You ever ski?” he asked when the boat was gassed up and floating in the water.

  I shrugged off the shirt I was using as a swimsuit cover-up and couldn’t help but notice the flame of interest sparking in his gaze. He gave me a once over, below the neck to my toes and then back up to my face where his eyes locked and didn’t stray again.

  “I’ve lived in Belize for the last five years.” Hanging the shirt on the crank he’d turned to launch the boat, I shot him a confident grin. “I can ski circles around you.”

  “Oh? You think so?” One of his dark brows arched, and he finally curved a full, teeth-revealing grin.

  “I know so. This lake is like glass compared to ocean waves.” I sassed right back and kicked off my flip-flops.

  For a moment, my mind was catching air while skiing and riding Jet Skis with Derrick and recalling our easy relationship. Would a friends-with-benefits relationship be possible with Gage? Is that all he wanted? Because for the first time I could remember since I’d been young and naïve and in high school, I wanted more. I was feeling more.

  We didn’t ski. The boat left churned waters in its wake as Gage steered us on a wild ride. Rascal lay low on the fiberglass belly of the craft when it was shooting across the water and popped back up to hang over the edge when it slowed. A few other boats and a sailboat dotted the lazy lake. As the afternoon grew late, we putted around the lake’s perimeter. The mix of quaint cabins and mansions fascinated me. We floated for a bit and lay back on the reclining seats, staring at the blue sky. At one point, I swore I saw an eagle glide by and interrupted Gage’s ramble to point.

  “Might be,” he agreed, although by the time he saw what I was speaking of, the large bird was too far away for him to get a good look. “I’ve heard of people seeing them here.”

  He flipped open the cooler and dropped his empty bottle in. I was sipping on a bottle of water. “Ready for the wine?” I shook my head, and he continued to ignore the beer and selected more water for himself and an extra bottle that he poured into a Solo cup for Rascal.

  “I know he’s hot,” I mused as the dog lapped up every drop of water.

  “Want to go for a swim, boy?” Gage patted the side of the boat and to my horror, half lifted, half tossed, his dog overboard. Rascal paddled around, nose and head above the surface, seemingly content. Gage dropped the anchor and from the same compartment, slid out two floats and threw them overboard. “C’mon. I know you’re hot.”

  It didn’t escape my notice when he used the same phrase I’d used to reference Rascal. I wondered if I’d imagined the teasing innuendo in his tone, seeming to give it a meaning that had nothing to do with the baking sun, but he jumped overboard before I could get a read on his face.

  “I could use a dip.” Instead of jumping, I swung my legs over the edge and dropped the rest of the way. The cooling shroud of the water was a welcome relief. We treaded water and engaged in a splashing war. Eventually, we shared the blue water noodle. Rascal hung over the yellow one in a similar manner. I was amazed when the canine climbed the boarding ladder with barely any help. We tossed the floats in after him and Gage and I hung, still in the water, one on either side of the ladder, discussing what we wanted for dinner. Gage sang the praises of a restaurant on the lake. My stomach growled when he began to summarize the menu, and we speculated what we would order once we’d returned to the house and cleaned up.

  “You wearing sunscreen?”

  “Huh?” It wasn’t the change of subject I needed to adjust to, as much as the changed intimacy in his coffee colored eyes. “Yeah. Always. Why? Am I burned?”

  “A little red on your shoulders.” His forefinger made a tingling brush over the skin he spoke of.

  Automatically I tipped my chin down to check. I did seem a little pinker than normal.

  When I lifted my head, my mouth fell onto his. Just like that. I’d never seen him coming, but reveled in the unexpected pleasure of his lips against mine. His tongue traced my top lip and circled to my bottom, and then his lips slipped and slid with mine.

  My eyelids had drifted closed, but they soon flew open when I felt the difference in this kiss from any other we’d shared. It was as tender as it was passionate, and the sentiment was mirrored in his open eyes. Instead of being clenched in the hair at the nape of my neck, his fingers forked the strands and massaged gentle circles onto my scalp.

  When we parted, his hand drifted to rest on the back of my neck where his thumb continued the soothing ministration.

  His words were a mere whisper of breath against my mouth. “I was scared.” His hand left my neck to swipe at his hair. “Hell, I’m still scared. I’m feeling different. Too much. It’s like I’m on overload whenever you’re around.” His eyes still hadn’t broken contact with mine, and now his lips tipped slightly. “The sex was… It was… Damn… I just… I lost my damn mind. Once I processed it and started thinking… I shouldn’t have started thinking.”

  “Because you started rethinking.” My reply was bitter and I hadn’t meant it to be. Because we hadn’t actually had sex. I had lapsed into voyeur mode, and I was insecure enough about this weakness to worry that was why he seemed to regret our almost-hookup.

  In that way he always seemed tuned in to my thoughts and emotions, he denied that unspoken thought tangent. “No. Not rethinking what I feel. I’m worried about everything except what I feel.” His gaze flashed with this conviction. “Now that we’ve started this thing, I’m scared as fuck of leaving you.”

  I jerked my eyes from his face. We’d barely begun, and he was thinking about the end? But he wound my hair around his wrist and brought my face back to his. Resting his forehead to mine, he gazed solemnly into my eyes.

  “It’s fucking up my head to think of being away from you. And I keep thinking messed up shit. Like you can do way better than me. Like I shouldn’t even be with you—I should be wanting what’s best for you.”

  My head shook, refuting his words, and I closed my fingers over his grip on the ladder. I wanted to scream because he was being so down on himself, but he kept talking without taking a breath.

  “And then I think ‘your life is about to change.’ What if you’ve come to your senses and you’ve moved on when I get out? And that it’s wrong to even want you to wait around until I’m out. This morning, the whole thing just―”

  “When you get out?” The sun’s rays couldn’t absorb the chill seeping through my body. “What do you mean, ‘when you get out?’”

  “I’m going to do time.”

  “Noo… No, you’re not. It won’t happen―”

  “The odds aren’t in my favor. And I’m a loser at gambling. Always have been.”

  “For fucking talking shit on stage? You’re going to jail?”

  “Hopefully my lawyers can negotiate rehab. But I’m going away for up to a year.”

  My eyes and throat ached and burned. Still I shook my head. “When?” When was this happening? Please, God, don’t let it happen…

  “By the fifteenth of next month.”

  Before my birthday.

  The tears trapped inside their duct stung like acid but never fell. Somehow, I found myself inside the boat, and Gage was pulling up the anchor. I had no memory of climbing the ladder. When he dropped the mass of metal to its storage nook, I noticed his back was broader. He turned and his chest seemed more chiseled. He looked healthier. It had only been a little over a week, but he was making amazing headway detoxing without structured rehab. Would they still send him to rehab if he tested clean of drugs? Or would his progress be ‘rewarded’ with jail time instead?

  Launching myself into his arms, I wrapped around him. Despite having that second emerged from the water, his skin was already hot enough to quell my chill. When I lifted my face, he kissed me. Another tender kiss. But I ground my mouth to his and it progressed quickly into a hard desperate mating of our mouths.

  Chapter 39

  “Hey, you guys!”

  Gage ignored the intrus
ion and continued to brush his tongue to Scar’s.

  “Hey, Gage!” Now that was uncommon enough for him to lift away from the sweet taste of the kiss. He didn’t vacation here enough to know many of his neighbors. And since it wasn’t a public lake, the chance of some random fan happening up was significantly lessened. “Gage and Scarla!”

  Rascal set up a welcoming bark.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he murmured, a breath away from the kiss they’d abandoned. “What is it with that kid catching us lip locked?” Separated from her, his mind cleared enough to recognize Seth’s voice. Holding her in the proprietary curve of his arm, he took in the two teens dropping the jib on a Hobie Cat. The boat stalled just enough that it didn’t sail past. “Rascal! Shut it! Seth. A little far from home.” He wracked his brain, attempting to make sense of the boy’s appearance.

  “We got here yesterday. Jeter’s dad has a place here. Real close to your house.” Seth dipped his hands into the water and scrubbed them on his face and neck.

  Jeter looked as heated as Seth did and was fiddling with his life jacket. “You think you could give us a tow back?”

  “We’ve been zigzagging across the lake but can’t seem to land where we need to,” Seth explained. “My cell’s dead. And he never brings his.”

  “Hard to Face Time Amy when my phone’s at the bottom of the lake.” Jeter shot a wry smile. When his friend scowled at him, he further defended himself. “Hey. She broke up with me that time for not calling all week. When the whole time, my phone was swimming with the fish.”

  “Grow a pair already, dude,” Seth retorted. It was partly amusing to see him act a junior of his father in almost every way. But it was equally disconcerting to see him at his young age, already devaluing the opposite sex.

  “I keep thinking my Dad will send someone for us.” Jeter rolled his eyes. “But I guess they’re too busy partying at the neighbor’s house to notice we’ve been lost at sea for half the day.”

  “Well, we can’t have you lost on the giant lake of arrowhead. You might never be found,” Gage joked and tossed them a rope. “Tie on.” He made sure their end was secured to an eyelet on the back of the boat and gave further instructions to the boys. When everything was secure, he turned before cranking the motor. “Want to board?”

  “Can we? Thanks, man!”

  Instead of pulling in close enough to transfer from one boat to the other, they rolled into the water and swam. He suspected it was an excuse to cool off.

  “Where to?”

  A half hour later after towing the catamaran in at a sluggishly slow pace, Gage drifted toward a pier Jeter pointed out. Idly, his gaze went from the dock to the house beyond it, and he froze.

  Jeter was already throwing off his life jacket, and it landed with a quiet plunk on the weathered wood. Seth had his arm out, hands on the pier keeping the boat from brushing against it.

  Gage turned, checking on the Hobie and then curiously eyed Jeter. “This is your dad’s place?”

  “Yeah. He might be selling it though. I’m hoping he’ll get a place on Big Bear or somewhere where we can have wave runners.”

  “Bradley Walker is your father?”

  Scarlette was tugging in the Hobie Cat, and her back straightened. Pivoting around, she swung her attention from him to Jeter.

  “You know him?” Jeter wondered.

  “Who doesn’t?” Gage joked and moved to the rear of the boat to take over pulling the rope in. “One of you jump in and untie that.”

  Seth volunteered, and Jeter knelt holding the boat in place.

  “You said he’s down there at that party?” Gage nodded to the garish monster of a house and the buzz of activity around it.

  Jeter confirmed Gage’s query, but lost interest in the conversation and expressed his thanks, clearly eager to get into the house. Seth hung back. “Think we can take Rascal?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…”

  “It’s fine. My dad won’t care.” Jeter paused his stride midway to the house that sat close to the waterline. “He misses our dog. He was a big dog too. It lives with Mom now.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Please. We can bring him over later. He has his tracker on his collar.” Still indecisive, Gage reached down to turn the tracker on and the boys fisted the air. “Yaaas!”

  Less than a half hour later, he tucked Scar’s hand in his as they made the trek down the road. They had entertained the idea of boating over, directly after dropping Seth and Jeter off. They had even talked of waiting until the next morning. But she was worried, given their track record so far with the search for Ivy that the next morning Bradley Walker might be gone. At the same time, she didn’t want to wander into a party of strangers—celebrity strangers—wearing only her swimsuit, cover-up, and flip-flops.

  In the time it had taken him to pull on clean clothing and buzz a shaver over face and neck, she had jumped in and out of the shower and dressed. He wasn’t sure she had taken even three minutes with the hairdryer before slicking her semi damp hair into a tight knot atop her head. She’d smeared lip-gloss on and threaded several bracelets on her wrist.

  Her wrist jangled when she slowed at the foot of the drive, and her arm stretched with him before he noticed the gentle resistance.

  “Ready?” He took in the nervous dart of her gaze to the house beyond.

  Ironically, in a repeat of the first party where they had looked for Ivy, they were detained and questioned in the driveway. After introducing himself, he waited as the security personnel texted into his phone and then they were given the go ahead.

  He squeezed her hand again after they were admitted into the house. A server wearing a crisp white uniform made them a drink, and a party hostess escorted them to the back terrace. Feeling a tremble run through Scar, he rested his hand on her back above her waist, lending moral support. Other than a few glances, no one paid them any mind and she visibly relaxed as he guided her to a quiet corner where she could take everything in.

  His own eyes skirted over the guests on the rambling lawn and stone patios, and he wondered if he would even recognize Ivy if he saw her.

  “Gage Remington! My son texted just now and told me you rescued him and his friend.”

  “Ah, yeah. They were having gaming and iPhone withdrawals.”

  He had only seen Bradley in passing at various events and once out on the water when staying here last summer. The actor was a favorite of the tabloids and the women. The heartthrob’s short stature was always a surprise to see, given his larger than life effect on a screen.

  They formally introduced themselves, and when he turned to include Scar in the introductions, he saw her moving away, her eyes focused as if in a trance. Following her line of sight, he found an older version of the girl he remembered sans dark hair.

  “My assistant emailed me about you coming by the house. Sorry I missed you. He said the woman with you was looking for…” Bradley broke off. “Looks like she found her.”

  Gage watched as the two women embraced but noticed the lack of a smile or happy face between them. When Bradley took a step in their direction, Gage quickly moved to intercept him with a slight step in front of him. “Maybe we could give them a minute?”

  “Sure. Right.” Bradley agreed, but his eyes were watchful of Ivy. The actor offered to introduce him around, and although he wasn’t enthusiastic at meeting a bunch of strangers, he took him up on it to keep the other guy occupied.

  Chapter 40

  “I couldn’t—can’t face anyone.” Ivy took a gulp of her fruity drink, and her eyes wandered around the fancy conservatory. “You understand.”

  I dropped to sit on the piano bench with the baby grand behind me and watched Ivy pace the shiny marble floor. “I don’t. Your mother is freaking frantic. Why would you put her through this?”

  At this, Ivy’s chin snapped up. “You know my mother. I’ve no doubt she needs to miss me for a while. That way she won’t scream at me for not living five minutes fr
om her beck and call!”

  “She thinks you could be dead!”

  “Good. Then maybe she’ll be happy I’m alive!”

  “No chance of that.” My lips twisted in a mutation between a grimace and a smile. Despite my fury with my friend’s attitude, I couldn’t help but postulate the scene of Ivy telling Ms. Messlehof she had moved to Californication, was living unwed with a movie star, and ‘oh yeah Mom, there’s this video going around…’ “In fact she might kill you off herself.”

  “See,” Ivy rang the reply out triumphantly.

  Ivy had an incredible story. She had remained on the tour bus through the last dates and then had flown to L.A. with Pax from the band. Her phone had gone dead that first night and no one else’s charger had been compatible. Somewhere between Auburn and Sacramento, the phone had been lost altogether. She didn’t know my number by memory. During her first weeks in Los Angeles, she had hooked up with Bradley at a party. This was the night of the infamous video, although she didn’t know of it at the time, and it would be a month before it hit the internet. Pax from the band kicked her out of the house the next day. “I didn’t know he knew what I had done or would even care if he did.” She’d figured he was simply an asinine rock star and he was tired of having her around. Which was fine with her, because Pax had some kinks she was tired of indulging, and she and Bradley had really hit it off so well that he had programmed his number into the new cell phone she was using. “I couldn’t replace my other phone because the bill was overdue, and at that point I had no money. It was way cheaper to buy the new one with some cash Pax had given me sometime before L.A.” Bradley had seemed happy to move her into his place. Because of his recent divorce though, they had kept their affair quiet—until the video hit.