Serena's Song

by Raina James

  "Hi!"

  "Mom!" Cool Guy lost out to Happy Son.

  "I'm glad I caught you this time. I missed not talking to you yesterday."

  "Mom." Serena could picture the eye-roll. "What's up?"

  "I'm good," she said. "But what about you? Are you having a good time?"

  "Yeah, pretty good."

  "Hmmm." Her Mom Radar went on alert. Jack's answers weren't exactly monosyllabic, but they were close. While she didn't expect him to gush, a bit more detail was more in his line.

  "Have you seen any more, ah, stuff about me and Finn in the papers or anything?"

  "No." Ah, yes. There was monosyllabic. It wasn't a happy sound.

  "Jack—" Serena stopped herself and tried again. "Honey, I'm really sorry this has upset you. If I'd had any idea this was going to come out, I would have told you."

  Silence. Nervously, Serena left the chair and went to stand by the railing. Somewhere in the trees below, an owl began a low, hooting moan. "Jack?"

  Finally, he said, "It's okay, Mom. I'm just … I'm surprised, I guess."

  Serena gave a little laugh. "So was I. By all the fuss, I mean."

  The exasperation in Jack's voice sounded a bit more normal. "Yeah, no kidding."

  "Where are your grandparents and sister?"

  "Grandma's still getting ready for dinner in her room. I'm just waiting to go down with her. She told Granddad to go ahead with Katie and get a table. D'you want me to get her?"

  "No," Serena said, coming to a sudden decision. "I just wanted to tell you something." She took a deep breath. "I'm actually with Finn right now."

  "What?!"

  "I'm staying with Finn at his grandparents' place. He said if I wasn’t home to follow around, the media would get bored and give up. It must be working if nothing else has come out in the past couple of days."

  "Huh. Does Grandma know?"

  "No. I just told her I wasn't at home, and gave her Finn's cell phone number so you guys could reach me here, since there isn't a phone hooked up."

  "Is this a secret? Like, do you not want me to tell Grandma and Katie or anything?"

  "I'll leave that up to you. It's not exactly a secret, I just didn't want to get into a discussion about it over the phone. Your grandmother can be … a bit overprotective. The reason I'm telling you is I don't want to keep things from you, Jack."

  "Okay. Great." He hesitated. "Uh— Never mind."

  "No, what? What is it?"

  "We-ell," Jack dragged out the word, then continued firmly, "Is Riff nice? Is he treating you … nice?"

  Serena felt her cheeks heat but kept her tone light. "Very nice. Don't worry. He's a lot like the guy I remember."

  "Okay, then. That's good," Jack said. "Hang on a sec. Someone's at the door."

  She heard a plastic thunk as he put the phone down, then, faintly, his voice as he greeted Serena's mother-in-law. Then he was back. His voice was hushed as he said, "Grandma's ready to go downstairs. She wants to know if you want to talk to her."

  "No—unless she needs to talk to me?" Jack answered in the negative. "All right, honey. You go ahead to dinner. You have my number, right?"

  "Yup. No problem, Mom. And Mom? Thanks for telling me."

  Serena smiled and traced a knot in the wooden railing. "You and your sister are the most important people in my life. You deserve to know what's going on. You'd better go. I'm sure your grandmother is getting anxious."

  Jack snorted a quiet laugh. "A bit. Talk to you later."

  "Love you."

  "Love you back," he said quickly, hanging up before she could say anything else.

  Serena's smile widened. That had been Jack's standard reply when he was younger. He didn't use it very often anymore. Too cool. She'd missed hearing it.

  A breeze moved through the trees under the deck, sighing through the new leaves as it passed. Goosebumps rose on her chilled arms. Rubbing them through the fabric of her blouse, Serena went back inside and down the stairs.

  Finn, one hand on the round wooden ball topping the bottom post of the banister, was waiting for her. He'd changed out of the more casual clothes he'd worn on the beach. She thought the black jeans and dark blue button-down over a white T-shirt looked just as sexy on him. Strangely, his bare feet only added to his appeal. She'd never considered feet a turn-on; leave it to Finn to prove her wrong. She raised her brows in mute question.

  Instead of answering, he grinned and pushed her down to sit on the stairs. Then he proceeded to strip off her own socks and shoes until her feet were as naked as his. She couldn't suppress her tremble as he ran his thumbs firmly up the soles of her feet. He held her foot out to examine her painted nails.

  "I like this," he said, fingering the silver ring she wore on one toe. "Very sexy."

  He held his hands out and pulled her up. She shivered again, every sense attuned to him as he put a possessive hand at the small of her back to guide her through the small living room and out the back door. His palm was warm even through the double layers of blouse and tank top.

  Unlike on the exposed deck off her room, the warmth of the day had lingered under the trees. With Finn's comforting warmth at her back, the spring air seemed only slightly cool. The previous night's rain had left everything smelling fresh and new. The haunting, rippling cry of a loon sounded from somewhere out on the lake, while the low hum of cicadas seemed to fill the forest. The woodsy sounds made her think of sultry summer nights spent with her family in their rented cottage and, more poignantly, that last summer with Finn.

  The tree trunks and leaves were limned in gold from the setting sun as Finn urged her ahead of him along the path to the beach. When Serena reached the end, though, she found it wasn't the sun that had cast the glow. Finn had formed a circle of smooth lake stones and laid a fire in the sand. The flames licked over the logs hungrily, sending flashes of light dancing on the trees and reflecting back from the water's edge.

  "You've been busy," she said, turning to Finn with a smile.

  "You like?" His hand, resting on the back of her neck, rubbed the tendons there with the same erotic undertones she heard in his voice.

  "Very much."

  A blanket was spread out on the sand near the firepit. Several large, colorful cushions had been scattered across it, a blatant invitation to lounge back like a pasha in a harem – or a harem girl awaiting her master in his seraglio.

  Serena, chuckling at her own fancy, let Finn settle her on the blanket. She fussed with a cushion at her back, and when she again looked up, it was to see Finn offering her one of the two glasses of wine he held.

  "I don't know if I should," she teased. "I remember what happened the last time you plied me with wine."

  "So do I." He waggled his brows suggestively. "Why do you think I'm giving you more?"

  Charmed, Serena toasted him and took a sip of the slightly fruity white wine.

  "Hungry?"

  "Starved. What's the table d'hote, Chef Logan?"

  "Only the most exquisite of delicacies for you, my love."

  Her heart fluttered at the endearment, spoken so casually, naturally, as if she'd always been his "love."

  Serena looked on with interest as he flipped open a cooler with a flourish. With the panache of a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he whipped out a package of wieners.

  Serena choked on her wine. "Hot dogs!"

  "Hot dogs?" Finn feigned wounded dignity. "I'll have you know that these are the finest all-beef tube steaks money can buy in Wolf Lake, just waiting to be fire-roasted to the peak of perfection."

  "Ah, I see. I beg your pardon. I think my uneducated palate is showing."

  In short order, Finn had skewered several wieners on forked sticks. While Serena held them over the fire, Finn dug two platters out of the cooler. Raw veggies were arranged on one, slices of fresh fruit on the other.

  Leaning comfortably against one fat cushion, her teeth sinking through the crackly, crisp skin to the juicy meat inside, Serena thought she'd neve
r tasted anything better than campfire-roasted weenies.

  "So, how are the kids doing?"

  "Having a blast in the land of mouse ears. Mention was made of riding the rollercoasters until they puked."

  "Ah, yes, the true test of a fun day – it's not over until someone spews."

  "Mmm. Tasty analogy."

  "Thank you. I do have a way with words, you know." Casually, he added, "I can hardly wait to meet them."

  Riff ignored Serena's sudden silence and pretended to concentrate on selecting a chunk of pineapple. He figured if he kept talking like it was a given that he was in her life to stay, maybe she'd accept it. Okay, so it wouldn't be that easy. But it was worth a try.

  He felt a flash of uncertainty. What if Jack and Katie didn't like him? Her kids were everything to Serena. He didn't know thing one about children, other than as a distant—very distant—observer. Some of his friends had kids, but Riff had never had much to do with them.

  If he hoped to have a future with Serena, he had to accept her kids. He was more than willing to do that. The thing he couldn't predict was what Serena would do if they wouldn't accept him. He took a gulp of wine. Better to focus on Serena now. He'd worry about winning over her kids later. It wouldn't hurt to scout the lay of the land, though.

  "What do they think of everything that's been going on?"

  "Katie's impressed. That I actually know someone cool," she explained at his look of surprise. "Jack … was a bit thrown at first. He has all your CDs—"

  "Ah, so you have heard my music."

  "I might have heard a song or two," she allowed. "Anyway, I think Jack's kind of torn. While he's a fan of Morven, I don't think he was too thrilled to find out I had a life before he was born. Plus, what 14-year-old boy wants to know that much detail about his mother's love life, especially when it doesn't involve his father?"

  Riff nodded. "I can see that." Yup. Looked like he had his work cut out for him, winning over the younger man in Serena's life.

  "I think he's going to be okay, though."

  He caught her fingers as she tickled the back of his hand. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"

  "I spoke to him just before I came downstairs. I told him I was with you."

  Riff digested that. He'd have preferred it if no one knew where they were, but he couldn't really expect Serena to keep it a secret from her kids. "Did that bother him?"

  She made a humming, thinking sound before answering. "I think he was pleased that I trusted him enough to tell him. Actually, now he's more concerned about whether you're nice to me or not."

  He tugged teasingly on a lock of hair that had curled under her chin. "Is that a challenge?"

  Laughing, she held up her hands in a gesture of innocence. "No, no. It's not, I swear!"

  Riff popped a piece of fruit in her open mouth, effectively silencing her. "I think it is. Let's see—how can I be nice to you?" He made a show of considering it. "Food's nice, isn't it?"

  Serena chewed the piece of melon and swallowed it, watching as Finn examined one of the skewered wieners propped over the fire. Apparently satisfied that it was cooked enough, he handed it to her. "See, I can be nice. Very nice." The smile he gave her was decidedly wicked. "Until you want me to be not so nice. Then I'm even better."

  Heat that had nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with the look in Finn's quicksilver eyes raced through Serena. Anticipation curled low in her belly, and her tongue flicked out to lick suddenly dry lips. "I know."

  Chapter 16

  The gold-sequined thong shimmied and swayed on its perch dangling from the rearview mirror as the black truck prowled along the pot-holed gravel road. The foray was the closest the tricked-out Chevy had come to off-roading since Derek Randall had driven it off the lot fresh from the factory and shaved the curb with the front tire. Since then, almost every dime Randall made had gone into pimping up his "Fuck Truck," as he liked to call it. If Randall could've gotten away with airbrushing the nickname—with appropriate illustration—on the tailgate, he would've. Frickin' DMV.

  The oversized mag wheels and tight suspension, never intended to face the challenge of a mud-mountain safari, were unforgiving when pitted against the little-used track that led to what used to be the Logan cabin. As a precaution, Randall had turned off the headlights as soon as he'd left the highway. If he was right, and Serena was out here, he didn't want to give her and Riff any warning that they weren't alone. Of course, no headlights made it even harder to navigate the road. He cursed fluently as the truck's front end dipped sharply, punctuated by an ominous metallic thud. The panties gyrated frantically, the cheap sequins glittering in the dim glow of the dashboard like an X-rated mirror ball.

  He almost drove past the private drive in the dark. One moment there was nothing but a leafy wall of greenish-black foliage; the next, his front bumper was gliding past the driveway. Without thought, Randall slammed his foot on the brake pedal. The tires skidded on the loose gravel for a few feet before the truck stopped. Randall shifted into reverse and eased the vehicle back before cutting the engine. Now the truck couldn't be seen unless someone came right out onto the gravel road.

  Whistling under his breath, Randall peered out the windows, craning his neck to look out the back the way he'd come. There wasn't so much as a car passing on the highway in the distance. It was too early for tourist season, and it was late enough that most locals would be at home watching the news or tucked away in their beds.

  Turning to the case in the seat beside him, he flipped the latch and lifted the lid to reveal an impressive digital camera. Amateur photography, in a rather narrow, specialized field, was another interest he'd developed over the years. Thumbing the camera on with the dexterity of practice, he checked the settings one more time. The power bars blipped on in the tiny window, along with symbols referring to lighting, range and other indicators. Satisfied that all systems were go, he lifted the strap over his neck and got out of the truck. He was careful to close the door as quietly as possible. Out here, with only the chirps of the crickets, bats and night birds, such an obviously man-made sound would be as loud as a gunshot in a library.

  The starlight was just bright enough to illuminate the light stones covering the road and private driveway. It had to be enough; he didn't want to risk a flashlight. With a last furtive look around, Derek set off. Immediately, he was surrounded by the high-pitched whine of a squadron of mosquitoes. In microseconds, they drew first blood. He slapped his neck in reflex, sure he'd taken out at least six of the little buggers with the one hit. He waved his hand futilely around his head, trying to disperse the swarm, gave it up as a lost cause.

  The hoot of an owl startled him. Though he couldn't see it, he felt it passing over his head on noiseless wings. Some small animal shrieked nearby, and was silenced just as abruptly. Randall shivered.

  A few steps later, he stumbled as the fallen branch he'd thought was a shadow caught the toe of his sneaker. The crunching sound of his feet sliding through the gravel was especially loud. He moved to the narrow strip of grass at the side of the drive, and hoped there wasn't anything else waiting to trip him up. If there was, at least the grass would muffle the noise.

  The first thing Randall saw when he slipped into the yard was the sporty silver Crossfire Serena had been driving in town. He smiled. Shazam! Serena was staying here. The darkened cabin looked deserted, but he wasn't put off. Unless they had another car, Serena and, hopefully, Riff had to be around here somewhere.

  Envy trickled through him as he took in the cabin's transformation from humble family abode to rock-star getaway. The changes to the exterior weren't blatant, but noticeable to someone familiar with what it used to look like. He didn't doubt the interior was just as transformed. When Riff had sold the place after his grandparents died, Randall had heard that the new owners had gotten some work done on the place. It was a small town; the contractors were local, and they'd talked. Obviously, Riff knew the current owners well enough to drop in for a visit.
Randall's eyes narrowed as his mental ramblings snaked around another thought. If there even were new owners.

  Fucking Riff. The bastard always seemed to come out on top. All the girls around Wolf Lake, the townies and the summer girls, had panted after him like he was King Cock or something. Riff Logan just took it all in, like it was his due, while guys like Derek Randall had to stand on the sidelines and watch him rake in the panties. Nothing galled Randall more. But even he could see the attraction. Shit, you'd have to be blind to not notice it was the bad-boy image that sucked in the senoritas.

  What normal guy—and Randall considered himself a "normal" guy, even if he was in the minority—could compete with that?

  But Riff had gone too far when he'd reeled in Serena Harper.

  Randall'd had his eye on her for years. She'd always seemed friendly enough when she stopped by the gas station to fill up her parents' station wagon. A little smile, a sweet hello. Shyly interested, he could tell. Not wanting to spook her—he was a couple years older than her, a working man, and some girls didn't know what to do with him when all they were used to was high school pricks—he'd waited. He hadn't asked her out, but he'd fantasized about her enough to feel like she was his.

  Even now he hardened at the thought of the way her tits had filled out the thin tank tops she'd worn all summer long. Sometimes, if he stared long enough, he was sure he could see right through the fabric to her tiny, pointy nipples.

  So it had been a total shock to see his Serena with Riff Logan. He felt like a guy who'd walked in on his girlfriend doing the dirty with someone else. It was at the ice cream shop Serena had worked at, in the narrow hallway leading to the rest rooms. Riff had her backed up against the wall, his hips holding her in place. One hand cupped her chin, tilting her face up for his devouring kiss, and the other was practically kneading her breast through the prim pink golf shirt.

  Randall had watched them, his fists curling in impotent anger. As if sensing his stare, Serena's lashes fluttered open. She saw Randall. In an instant, her eyes went from hazy, languid blue to shocked sapphire. Gasping, she tore her mouth from Riff's and her hand flew up to cover his on her breast, as if to hide what he was doing.