“What kind of vehicle is this?” I asked as he climbed in.
“An International Harvester Scout.” He clicked his seat belt without glancing at me.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s old.” He cranked the key. “But it has seat belts. Put yours on.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” I reached back to find it and clicked it on, experiencing another pleasurable shiver at the knowledge he was looking out for me. I ran my gaze over the dash, noting the gleam of the metal. The all-weather fabric beneath me was surprisingly plush. “It looks new. It’s nice. And it’s comfortable.”
“I like making old things work. Some of the best things I know are in the past.”
Journey gave me a long look, something processing behind his eyes. I didn’t know what, but it seemed significant.
“I guess I prefer new,” I said, thinking about all the losses in my past.
He turned his head, his expression tightening. Did I say something wrong?
There was something between us. At least, on my side. I certainly didn’t want to upset him.
I licked my lips, trying again. “Did you buy it like it is now or restore it?”
“I found it half buried in a lady’s backyard, bought it for almost nothing, and restored it. No way could I afford one that had already been done. Especially nowadays.”
His response gave me a lot to be curious about. What lady? How long had it taken him to fix it up? Where had the process taken place?
But I just asked, “Why especially now?”
“A model like this one is featured on a popular television series.”
“Oh. I don’t watch much TV.”
“Me either.” Journey shifted to get the vehicle in motion and followed the sedan. “If you don’t watch TV,” he said as he turned on his blinker, “what do you do in your spare time?”
I hugged my bag to my chest. “I don’t have much spare time.”
“Why not?” he asked, steering the Scout onto the freeway.
“I work a lot. I’m kinda on my own.” Kinda meaning completely when it comes to being the responsible adult.
As we picked up speed, my hair started blowing around all over the place. I grabbed a handful of it and secured it into a ponytail with an elastic band I wore around my wrist.
“You’re not in college?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“No.” I shook my head. “I never went. Too expensive.”
Journey gave me another sharp glance. “Couldn’t your, uh, parents help you with expenses?”
“No.” I swallowed hard, my eyes burning. “My parents are both gone.”
“Where are they?” His gaze narrowed, and I could feel the intensity within it, boring into me from the side this time, rather than from behind.
“I’d rather not talk about it.” Staring straight ahead, my vision blurred. The sheen over it came from an inescapable sadness. The hardest events in my life to accept were the unchangeable ones.
“All right,” he said after a lengthy pause. “So, you bartend for Ashland Keys?”
“I bartend for him for special events. But I do other stuff for him too. For Outside, I mean.”
“Such as?”
“Plants. I take care of the ones at the studio, and bring in and arrange temporary ones for the label’s launch events. I have a contract to care for the plants at his penthouse too.”
“You like plants?”
“Yes, I do. That’s what I meant about new. I like planting seeds, watching them grow into something beautiful that wouldn’t have existed without my care.”
Giving them the right amount of sunlight, water, and nutrients yielded a certain predictable result. I liked feeling that I made a difference, and that I had control over something in my life.
“I like plants too,” he said. “Reminds me of . . . well, you’re right about the taking care of something. Easier, more predictable results with plants than people, for sure.”
“What about you?” I asked, breathless from questions that felt pointed, like an interrogation. “Where are your parents?”
A mask slammed down over his features, one made of impenetrable steel. “I’m not close with my parents.”
“Not close because they live far away, or because you choose to be distant from them?” I put the question out there and braced, expecting him not to answer.
“Both.” His teeth were clenched so tight, a muscle jumped in his jaw. “I don’t have any contact with my family at all.”
“Oh.” My eyes filled. “That’s sad.” It was hard to imagine choosing not to be with your family if you had them, and they wanted to be with you.
“In my situation, it’s for the best for everyone involved.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and I wondered if what he said was true.
“What do you do in your spare time?” I asked to change the subject.
“Work, surf, band practice.”
“Work with your guitar?” I’d already seen the surfboard and realized he had a hobby that matched mine.
He nodded. “I do a lot of studio stuff. It pays pretty well.”
“Studio stuff for Ash?” I asked, wondering why I’d never seen Journey at Outside before.
“Not him, no. But people he knows. That’s how the Skulls got added to the lineup tonight.”
“Ah.” My eyes widened. It really was who you knew. In music, like most things.
“Ah, as in that’s good?” His brows rose. “Or—”
“Good. Ash is picky. Your band is good. Your voice is compelling, and you’re amazing on lead guitar.”
“Thank you.” His voice went the type of low that made me imagine intimate things. “But Black Skulls isn’t my band. It’s Reese’s. I’m not a full-time member, just filling in for their regular guy.”
“Where is their regular guitarist?”
“Dirt-bike accident. Broke his wrist.”
“That sucks.”
“It did for him, but it’s good for me.” Journey flicked on his blinker again, following the sedan. “I needed the extra cash, and I met you.”
Whoa. I glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring straight ahead, though the road was surprisingly empty. Was he avoiding my gaze like I’d been avoiding his earlier?
His hair was secured like mine. Medium length, there was only a thick club of it at his nape, but a couple of wavy spirals had escaped.
Suddenly, I yearned to reach out and touch one. Was his hair as silky and soft as it appeared to be? What about his mustache? His beard? How would those feel against my naked skin? Thinking those thoughts, I started feeling like a hot and melty puddle again.
“Noticed you right away in the audience.”
“Huh?” Lost in thoughts of him and me and tangled sheets, I suddenly had difficulty following the conversation.
“Even in the catering uniform, you were impossible to miss.”
Journey turned to glance at me, and I knew my mouth was hanging open. It wasn’t that I was unaccustomed to guys saying flattering stuff to me. I got hit on all the time at the bar, knowing that it was just words. It didn’t mean anything.
But I could see that the opposite was true with him. Those earth-brown eyes of his with enticing flecks of green drilled his truth into me.
“I thought you didn’t like me,” I said, remembering. “You frowned at first, then you avoided looking at me.”
His lips curved. “To be honest, looking at you made it impossible to concentrate. I didn’t want to fuck up with the guys in the band, or in front of all the industry types hanging around.”
“Music’s important to you?”
“It’s everything to me.” His reply was immediate and unwavering.
“I knew a guy like that once,” I said somberly. “Music was everything to him too.”
“Once?”
Looking out the window, I shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“What happened to him?” he asked softly.
“Did that upset you?”
Journey pulled in a breath and held it, and I looked back at him. The green in his eyes sparkled brighter than the traffic signal that switched from red to green as he watched me.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
The truth was . . . I never got over Storm leaving.
Lotus
“SO, YOU LIKE Journey?” Sophia linked her arm with mine as we followed the guys across the sand.
“Yes,” I said, after checking to see that he and the others were out of listening range. “He’s gorgeous and mysterious. And nice.”
“How do you know he’s nice?”
“He’s thoughtful. He helped me while I was working. And he’s a gentleman. Opened the door for me and made sure I was belted in before he drove. We talked some on the way over.” I shrugged. “He plays the guitar like Bryan Jackson from Tempest, and you’ve seen him, hung out with him tonight. What’s not to like?”
“The guitar part ranking so high with you doesn’t surprise me. You didn’t even notice Saber until he strapped on his Les Paul.”
My heart twisting at the mention of my ex, I winced.
Noticing, Sophia sighed. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered. It wasn’t, really, but I was going to get there.
“It’s the mystery part with Journey and you thinking that’s an attribute that worries me.”
“Why?” I gave her a puzzled look.
“The Black Skulls are an LA-based band. LA’s not far from OB, but Journey isn’t a permanent member of the band.”
“He told me.”
Sophia’s eyes widened. “Surprised he mentioned that.”
“Why?”
We stopped a couple of yards away from the others. Reese was digging a pit for a fire, and Tristan was laying out beach blankets around it. The bassist stood nearby, talking on his cell.
Journey knelt before the large ice chest he’d dragged across the sand. His biceps flexed as he opened the lid. His tight ass was perfection in his jeans, and errant curls swept his tatted neck.
I swooned. Inwardly, of course.
Sophia squeezed my arm. “Rocker guys don’t usually like to point out that it’s unlikely you’ll ever see them again.”
“I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought.” Being dazzled by Journey had taken up most of my brain capacity.
“You really going to go there?” Sophia’s gaze drifted to him, and mine did too.
Journey seemed to be done with his task at the ice chest. When he stood up, he turned, holding two beers, and his gaze met mine. I could feel his heat, his interest. Or was I just projecting my own?
“I think I might.”
“Wow, I’m surprised,” she said, a waver of trepidation in her voice.
I hadn’t taken my eyes from Journey. The guy looked like a pirate on the beach with all his tats and his cutoff tee fluttering in the wind like a black flag, but without the skull and crossbones.
“You gonna go there with Reese?” I asked, turning Sophia’s question back on her.
“I might.”
I studied her for a second. “You don’t usually.” For all our adventures, we were mostly talk and not a lot of action.
“It’s an unusual night for both of us,” she said with a thoughtful crease in her brow, and I nodded.
Tonight felt unusual. Significant. Important.
Feeling the pull of Journey, I wanted to go to him, but I lingered another moment to tell her, “If you go anywhere alone with Reese, keep your cell-locating function on, and your ringer.”
“I will.” She gave me a long look. “You do the same.”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
Sophia skirted the now-flickering campfire to join Reese on the other side. The bassist passed me on his way to the parking lot. I never got his name, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t staying.
“Corona okay?” Journey asked when I reached him.
“Yes, that’s fine. Thanks.”
He studied me closely as he offered me a can. “But it’s not your preference?”
“No.” I shook my head. “My favorite is Pizza Port pale ale on draft.”
“Not available in LA.”
“I know. This is nice. Thoughtful.” I took a seat on the blanket and glanced up at him. “What’s to eat?”
I didn’t mean my question to be sexual, but the way Journey’s gaze darkened on me made me wish I had.
Let loose. Forget Saber.
Sex with Journey was a consideration. Why not sexual innuendoes beforehand?
“Just sandwiches.” Journey lowered himself onto the blanket beside me and stretched out his long denim-clad legs. “Though I’m guessing from your comment that ale and pizza from Pizza Port is a favorite of yours.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m a simple girl with simple tastes.”
Tristan moved toward us, and Journey’s head snapped up. He shook it at the drummer.
“Fucking hell, man,” Tristan said, kicking up sand. Had he really been thinking about sitting with us? “You’re always taking the best girls. Good thing you’re out of the group after tonight.”
Journey jumped to his feet and grabbed Tristan’s T-shirt by the collar. “You wanna repeat that shit, or you wanna take it back and walk away in one piece?”
“Taken back.” Tristan shrugged out of Journey’s hold and yanked down the hem of his shirt. “Chill, man.” He looked at Reese. “Dude, I’m taking off with the car.”
“You planning to put all the gear up?” Reese asked.
“Yeah,” Tristan muttered, frowning. “Whoever has the car stores the shit. I know the drill.”
“See ya, then. Practice. Same time tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
Tristan shuffled away, and Journey came back to me.
My fingers tingled, but I wasn’t thinking about what his hair would feel like. I was thinking about jotting down that phrase. It seemed like a perfect opening line for a poem.
“Sorry about that,” Journey mumbled, lowering himself beside me again.
“Nothing to apologize about.”
“I lost my temper. Got my jaw broken and my nose busted so bad it required plastic surgery before I learned to tone it down. Zero to sixty when something or, in this case, someone pisses me off. Most times, it’s necessary not to back down with a guy like him. But with you . . .” He scrubbed a hand over his face.
I scoffed. “Tristan’s an asshole.”
“You got that, huh?” Journey asked, his dark brows raised.
“Yeah. What’s not to get?”
“Chicks think he’s the shit.”
I pointed to myself. “Not this chick.”
“Yeah, I can see that you’re different. Simple tastes, maybe, but not at all simple. Unless simple means fascinating.”
Leaning close, his gaze intense, Journey captured a lock of my hair. He considered it, rubbing it between his fingers as he let out a low approving humming sound before he tucked it behind my ear.
A warm shiver swept through me as the rough pad of his finger skimmed the sensitive shell of my ear. When he lifted his gaze, the flames of the campfire were reflected in it. He was so close, I could see the intriguing pixels of green within the warm brown of his eyes.
“Where did you come from, Lotus?” he said softly. “You being here, it’s like you emerged from the ashes of some forgotten dream.”
“I just drove up from Ocean Beach with Ash.”
“Ocean Beach is farther from where we are now than you think.”
“Not so far,” I whispered. “Just a couple of hours with no traffic.”
I stared at him, my eyes on his as he framed my face in his hands. I placed mine on his strong shoulders. Half of my palm was on the soft cotton of his shirt, the other half on his warm skin.
Touching him didn’t feel new or frightening. It felt necessary and exactly right.
I held my breath a
s the fire crackled on the other side of us. A cool breeze swirled around us, and the ocean roared.
“Maybe not as far as I thought,” he said softly.
Coming closer, he tilted his head one way, and I tilted mine the other. As his lips hovered close, mine buzzed with anticipation. His eyes closed, and mine did too as his mouth touched mine. A firm press of lips became a soft blending as I yielded to him and his kiss.
The connection between us was all sparks, consuming heat, and utter bliss. My skin sizzled, a fire as hot as the flames of our campfire blazing beneath the surface. Then his wet tongue pierced the seam between my lips. My mouth molded to his as he rubbed his tongue against mine, providing the perfect friction.
My fuse ignited, I moaned into his mouth and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. He cradled my skull in one of his large hands, twisting my ponytail around the other, tugging gently to get the angle he wanted to deepen the kiss.
As our passion rose, we shared breaths. Desire. Heat.
Darkness like a velvet curtain drew around us, closing out the rest of the world.
It was just Journey and me.
The embers of who I’d been before this moment, before his kiss, fell like fiery drops of rebirth on my fevered skin.
Lotus
AFTER THE KISS, a seismic shift occurred that made everything seem more intense. The fire was brighter. The ocean was louder. Or maybe it was only that the tumult of indecision inside me subsided.
It was right. This was right, my being here with Journey. Before with Saber was over. Step by step, or maybe in one big leap because of Journey, my doubts were gone. I was ready to move on.
I ate the sandwich that Journey unwrapped and handed to me. After seeing to me, he offered food to Sophia and Reese, but they were too busy making out to respond.
“Nice of you to offer,” I said from behind my hand, munching on a turkey avocado on whole wheat with a little spicy mayo. “This is fantastic. Thank you.”
“You already thanked me.” Journey reclaimed his seat beside me, tipped back his beer, and then rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed almost embarrassed by my praise. “It’s not a big deal, but I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s a big deal to me.” I was unaccustomed to anyone else looking out for me. Taking another huge bite, I chewed and then swallowed while formulating words to explain. “You went and got the food with me in mind, right?”
Storm Page 5