Defining Destiny

by Deanna Chase

  Jax shakes her head and seems to sober a little. “She’s done with him. But she’s my best friend and you’re my other best friend. I can’t have her hating you when you don’t call the next day.”

  I nod reluctantly and take another drink. She’s right. I won’t call, and we both know this as fact.

  “Good.” Jax climbs up on the stool and pats the one next to her. “Sit. I’m going to save you from Cami. She’s over in the corner plotting fifty ways to remove your man bits.”

  I choke, spraying my beer on the people standing in front of me. “What?”

  The beer-covered couple turns and gives me a disgusted look.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  “You heard me,” Jax says. “I’m sure it’s all talk, but I’ll be your buffer just in case she goes into stalker mode again.”

  The music starts, so I give her a half-hug and say into her ear, “You’re the best.”

  “I know.”

  Lucy starts singing a Colbie Caillat song. The entire bar goes quiet, captivated by her singer-songwriter persona. Is there anything this girl can’t sing? Her voice is winding through me when Jax gasps and clutches my arm, her fingernails cutting into my skin. “Omigod!”

  “What?” I follow her gaze to find her staring at a guy roughly our age standing just inside the front door. He’s staring at Lucy, a stormy expression on his face.

  “Who the hell is that?” I growl from pure protectiveness. I can’t stand the way he’s eyeing her, as if he’s ready to drag her off the stage and stuff her in the trunk of his car.

  Jax sucks in a breath. “Her ex, Cadan.”

  Chapter 4

  Lucy

  As I’m strutting across the stage, microphone clutched in my hand, the allure of the stage grabs hold of me, filling my soul with joy. I imagine myself lit up, my eyes sparkling with happiness. It’s a state of being I haven’t experienced while singing for at least the past two years. Not since before Cadan and I started performing together, anyway. What we’d had was intense. Emotional. Draining in the best possible way. But that had been for the audience, not for me. Then Cadan had turned into a world-class bastard, tainting everything that was good about singing.

  This feeling I have right now? It’s heady and intoxicating. Maybe even selfish. And I take it all in, loving every moment of it. The music winds through me, and as I scan the crowd, I settle my gaze on Seth. He’s tracking me with those smoldering eyes. It only takes one look to know what he’s thinking. I feed off his hunger, giving it right back to him through my throaty rendition of “Body and Soul” by Tori Amos.

  I can see he’s talking to Jax, but his gaze never wavers from mine. My worldview narrows, and though the bar is full of people, I’m singing to just him. I’m taken to another dimension, completely lost in the music. Lost in Seth—the sexy stranger I’m uncharacteristically drawn to.

  My body vibrates with excitement and my heart hammers against my ribs. I’m painfully aware I’m moments from being pulled completely under his spell, lost once again to the attraction of a man.

  No. Not this time. I tear my gaze away and focus on the crowd closest to the stage. The joy comes flooding back with the pulse of the music and I give them everything I have.

  But as the last notes of the song fade away, my attention is pulled back to Seth. Jax is clutching his arm, smiling in my direction. Good, she’s enjoying herself. This is supposed to be for her after all.

  I’m halfway through an acoustic number when Jax tears away from Seth, heading directly for the door. She pushes through the crowd, and I lose sight of her for a moment. What is she doing? I glance back at Seth. He’s scowling, staring after her. Then the crowd parts, and I finally see what everyone else does.

  Cadan.

  My entire body goes numb and the mic slips from my hand. I barely notice the loud screech when it tumbles to the stage.

  “Lucy?” Mike touches my elbow. “You okay?”

  I give him a tiny shake of my head, my eyes wide in shock. What the hell is Cadan doing here? He’s supposed to be on tour in Colorado. And how did he know where to find me? Jax wouldn’t have said anything to him. And I hadn’t told anyone else he knows I’m singing tonight. No one except my mother.

  Shit. Dammit. Son of… Why can’t she leave well enough alone?

  “No,” I say to Mike. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave. Now.” Without waiting for a response, I stalk across the stage and into the back, rubbing my suddenly goose-pimpled arms.

  “Lucy!” Mike follows me. “What’s wrong?”

  I spin and nearly fall over. Jesus. I’m perfectly fine strutting around stage in these suicide boots, but once I’m just regular Lucy, all my coordination flies out the window. “It’s Cadan. My ex. I can’t see him. Not tonight. I have to go.”

  “Cadan Kinx?” His eyes go wide with wonder the way every other wannabe rocker’s do when they finally meet the famous Cadan.

  “Shit,” I say again. “Yes. Go out there and stall him. You can even say I sent you. That will get him talking.” Anything to give me a few minutes to escape.

  He glances at the door and then back to me, clearly unsure of what to do.

  “Go!” I push him toward the door leading back into the bar.

  “What’s going on?” Teo asks as he bounds into the dressing room, still holding his guitar. Justin, our drummer, follows him, his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets.

  “You’re going out there to stall Cadan,” I say, pushing Teo after Mike. “Tell him I’ll be out in a few minutes.

  “Will you?” Justin asks, eyeing me with a quiet intelligence.

  “Hell, no.” The tears start to burn my eyes. Why did he have to show up and ruin everything? I’d been happy. Normal even, for the first time since I left him at that hotel three months ago. I steel myself. I will not cry over Cadan. Not tonight. I’m done with that. Done letting him prey on my emotions. Mate or not, I cut him out of my life and no way am I letting him back in.

  Teo runs a hand over the spikes of his stiff, gelled hair and nods. “You got it.” He’s already striding out the door when Mike and Justin turn and follow him.

  I don’t hesitate. I don’t even go into the bar to get my coat. I’d rather freeze in the December air than have to talk to Cadan. One of two things will happen. Either we’ll have a huge fight that will end in me screaming at him again, or he’ll give me a sob story and try to convince me to do one more show. Neither is on my agenda. I wrap my arms around my torso and use my hip to push open the back door.

  The chilly wind assaults me and my teeth instantly start chattering. Oh my God. In my haste, I forgot my keys. Jax has them. Not that I should be driving anyway. I’ve had way too many tequila shots and margaritas.

  Marty. Is he even here yet? I glance at the thin wristwatch on my right arm. Crap. No, he isn’t due for another hour. I press against the side of the building and glance up and down the street. The small town is pretty much boarded up for the night. Only the bar is open. I start walking. Jax’s house is in town, but it’s a good three miles up the main highway. Not exactly a prime walking path.

  I glance across the street at the dark Pacific Ocean, nostalgic for the time before I’d ever met Cadan. Then I tuck my head down and run toward the nearest cross street, praying I don’t break an ankle.

  “Lucy!” a deep voice calls over the noise of the ocean churning against the rocks.

  I stop mid-run and turn to stare at Seth. “What are you doing out here?” I stammer, my lips already frozen.

  He runs to catch up with me and holds out my coat.

  “Oh!” I grasp it and hug it to my body and then quickly slide my arms into the heavenly wool. “Did Jax send you?”

  He nods and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?” I take two steps for every one of his, trying to keep up.

  “There’s a place a few blocks from here where we can get out of the cold until Marty comes for you.” He turns and pulls me down a
side street and out of the wind.

  “Thank you,” I say with a relieved sigh.

  He quirks an eyebrow and his lips turn up in a sexy half smile. “I owe you one, remember?”

  The sound of his quiet, self-assured tone makes my insides go all tingly. I have a thing for confident men with rough voices. Cadan, while oozing more confidence than is warranted, has a smooth, clear-as-a-bell voice that’s perfect for hitting all the right notes but lacks something in the gritty-and-sexy department.

  “Right,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting to collect so soon.”

  We make a left on the next street and head down closer to the shoreline. Finally we stop at a white, plank-sided house. I glance up and gasp. On what I assume is the third floor is a glass studio with a bird’s-eye view of the ocean. “You live here?”

  “It’s my sister’s place. She’s out of town.” He doesn’t say any more, just unlocks the door and shuffles me inside. Warmth envelops me, and I stand there in the cheery yellow kitchen, waiting for my nose to defrost.

  Seth shrugs out of his coat and reaches for mine, but I wrap it closer around my body. “Not yet,” I say. “Give me a few more minutes.”

  “I’ll turn the heat up.” He disappears into the next room, leaving me standing next to a fully stocked bar area. The granite counter and dark wood cabinet don’t match the white cupboards and seem out of place in the country-style kitchen. Total bachelor move. But didn’t he say this is his sister’s place?

  “Hey!” I call. “Does she have any coffee?”

  “The beans are in the fridge. Help yourself.”

  Now that I’m slowly regaining feeling in my limbs, I move toward the refrigerator and note my buzz has all but worn off. Between my performance, the panic of seeing Cadan, and my foray into the arctic December winds of Mendocino, my metabolism has done a stellar job of working its way through all that tequila. Fortunately, when I open the door and find the Colombian roast beans, a bottle of Kahlúa stares back at me. “The hell with it.”

  I grab the bottle then make short work of grinding the beans and starting the coffee. While I wait for Seth to return, I fill my mug with the Colombian blend and top it off with the Kahlúa. Then I sit at a round breakfast-nook table, sipping away as I stare at the full moon shining over the Pacific. Finally I’m warm enough that I shrug out of my jacket.

  Seth comes in holding a pair of thick wool socks. He eyes the rum liqueur on the table and chuckles.

  “I’ll replace it,” I say, biting my lip. “I just needed something to take the edge off.”

  His amused smile fades, replaced by that smoldering look he’s been giving me the entire night. My cheeks burn and I know I’m turning multiple shades of red.

  “Understandable,” he says.

  I scramble up from my chair and hurry over to the coffeepot. Without asking, I grab another cup for him and fill it with the Colombian roast. I refill mine halfway, leaving room for more alcohol. I’m not going to get through this night sober. At least, not easily. I hold his mug up to him. “Do you take anything in it?”

  He gestures to the bottle on the table. “That’s fine.”

  I smile as I join him, and he doctors his drink before eyeing mine. “Half and half?” he asks.

  “Yes.” I don’t even blink. “It’s been a rough night.”

  “No doubt.”

  I sit with my hands wrapped around the cup and try to look at anything except him. Not that it matters. His image is burned into my brain after spending the last hour or so staring at him from the stage. He’s tall. Six feet, maybe. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Angular jaw. Slightly wavy, multi-streaked, bronze-colored hair. Those vibrant tattoos climbing up both arms. And eyes so vibrant green they almost glow. Yeah. No need to look at him. I do anyway.

  “You’re thinking about something,” he says. He’s contemplative, trying to figure me out, but he doesn’t ask me to share.

  I eye the gray socks now lying next to his cup. They’re about twice as big as mine would be. “Are you going to put those on?”

  He laughs. “They’re for you.”

  “Really? Do they belong to your sister’s boyfriend or something?” No girl I know wears socks that big. My toes curl in longing, but I can’t wear the socks of some dude I don’t even know. Drinking his sister’s booze is one thing. Stealing her boyfriend’s clothes is entirely another.

  Seth shakes his head. “They’re mine. I’ve been known to keep a few things here just in case.”

  “Ahh.” So they are smelly man socks. Except they look really warm and cozy. And my feet are starting to ache.

  “They’re new.”

  “Really?”

  “No. But I thought that would make them sound more appealing.” He gets up, grabs the coffeepot, and refills our mugs. “They are clean, though.”

  My lips twitch and I reach for the socks but don’t move to put them on. I’m too busy watching Seth’s back muscles ripple through his black T-shirt as he returns the coffeepot to the counter.

  “This is a great place,” I say. “I’d kill to see the view from the top floor.”

  Seth stiffens. He turns slowly, his face set in a stormy expression.

  I jerk, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. “Sorry. I just love cool spaces. I didn’t mean to imply you should traipse me around your sister’s house. Forget I said anything.”

  He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. “No. I’m sorry. It’s… that space is private. No one goes up there.”

  “Yeah, sure. No need to explain.” I glance at the clock. “When is Marty coming again?”

  He moves to the bar and pulls out a full bottle of Crown Royal. “We have about forty minutes. Want something a little stronger?”

  I shouldn’t, but I nod anyway. Anything to numb the barrage of emotions I’m keeping buried so deep it physically hurts to breathe. I don’t want to see Cadan. Or talk to him. But I can’t deny the connection we have. It will never go away. He has a piece of me, even though I desperately wish he didn’t. Then there’s this strong attraction I have for Seth. I’ve just barely met him, and yet I don’t want to leave this place. Don’t want to leave without finding out what’s under that T-shirt.

  Oh my God. What am I thinking? I nod to the Crown Royal. “Got anything to mix with that?”

  Seth scans the contents of the fridge. “Whiskey Sour?”

  “Works for me.” I slip out of my chair, meaning to move to Seth’s side, but the pocket of my coat starts to buzz, making me jump. I fumble for the phone, drop it, and scramble to scoop it up. It’s Jax. “Hello?” I say, breathless.

  “Where are you?” she demands. Beyoncé is singing in the background.

  “Seth’s. Didn’t you send him after me?”

  She’s quiet, and I listen to Beyoncé singing about putting a ring on it.

  “Jax? Did I lose you?”

  She clears her throat. “How did you get there? Derek is his DD and he’s still here.” Her tone is serious. Accusing.

  “Oh sorry. We’re at his sister’s house. We walked.”

  More silence. This time I wait her out.

  “Lucy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you mean the white house a few blocks away? The one with the incredible views of the ocean?”

  I glance at Seth, who’s casting me a quizzical look. “How many sisters do you have?”

  “Two. Why?”

  “No reason.” I turn my attention back to Jax. “Sounds right.” I want to mention the third floor, but don’t because of Seth’s earlier reaction. “We’re hanging out in the kitchen, waiting for Marty.”

  “He’s not coming.” She’s super pissed. I can tell by the way she’s clipping her words.

  I refrain from rolling my eyes. Her brother is such an ass sometimes. “How does he expect us to get home?”

  “That’s what I asked. But no. He’s going out with some skank from his job instead.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Marty?” Se
th asks.

  “Who else?” I roll my eyes. The guy’s reputation precedes him.

  “And there’s no one coming to give you a ride home?” Seth asks me.

  “Right.”

  He holds his hand out for the phone. When I don’t respond right away, he waves his fingers in a give-it-here motion. “Lucy… please.”

  I reluctantly hand over my phone.

  “Put Derek on,” Seth says as he walks into the other room.

  “Hey!” I stride after him and grimace. My limbs are stiff from bouncing around onstage in my boots.

  “Is he gone?” I hear Seth ask. “Just hang out until he leaves. Then you two can come by to pick up Lucy.” Another pause. “No. I’m fine here. … Yes, I’m sure.”

  He turns around and doesn’t seem surprised to see me eavesdropping. He hands the phone back to me.

  “Jax?”

  “I’m here.”

  “I’m sorry about your birthday.” My voice quavers and I wonder if I’m more drunk than I think I am.

  “Are you kidding? It’s the best birthday. I got to see you back up on that stage. And you rocked it, girl. But we’ll talk about that later.”

  “Okay.” I tug at the hem of my skirt nervously. When I’m onstage, something happens to me. A confidence I don’t normally possess overtakes me. But the minute I step off, I transform into Lucy, the bundle of nerves.

  “I’ll see you soon. Right after Cadan leaves, we’ll come get you.”

  A pit forms in my stomach. “He’s still there?”

  “Yeah. Soaking up all the attention. Plus, I think he’s hoping you’ll come back.”

  I snort. “I think you were right with the first guess.”

  She laughs. “Probably. See you soon.”

  The line goes dead and I’m saved from listening to the Madonna song that replaced Beyoncé. She’s probably right. Cadan does expect me to come back. I always have before. It’s that soul-mate connection. The pull of the two souls born for each other. But he’s battered my heart one too many times. He can stay there all damn night for all I care.