Blue Christmas (The Moody Blue Trilogy | Book One)

by Moody, Diane

“Well now, you’ll just have to find that out for yourself, won’t you? But weren’t you doing the dishes for your mother tonight? I wouldn’t want to keep you from your obligations.”

  “Hardly,” Laura balked. “I wouldn’t let him near these good dishes. Hannah, go on and get him out of here for me. You two have a good time. Frank and I are going to turn in for the night. Jason, show her to her room. Why don’t you put her in JT’s room?”

  “Excuse me?” Hannah coughed. JT Malone—the bad boy of Blue. Numerous body piercings, tattoos, and hair color that changed almost weekly. His husky baritone voice was the perfect compliment to their legendary harmonies, and his renegade reputation earned him recognition as “the wild one.”

  Jason laughed at her again. “No, silly, you’re not rooming with JT. Mom’s got all the guest rooms designated for the guys. They all show up at one time or another and she insists on making them feel at home. You don’t mind staying in JT’s room, do you? I promise he’s not here at the moment.”

  “Oh, I guess I can stand it,” she teased. She tried to hide her embarrassment at the mistaken assumption.

  “Come on.” Jason grabbed her hand. “The pool table is downstairs. You’ll love the game room. Wait ’til you see what Mom’s done with it.”

  Chapter 4

  Stepping down the last three stairs into the expansive game room felt like stepping into a museum. That’s because it was a museum. Laura had covered the walls with professionally framed photographs documenting the entire history of Out of the Blue.

  “This is amazing! Look how young you guys were!” Hannah laughed, pointing to an early cover on Teen magazine. “JT without tats or piercings? This must have been a nursery shoot.”

  Jason set up the billiard balls. “I know, doesn’t he look like a big baby? Check that one out over there,” he pointed with a cue stick. “Get a load of Jackson. I don’t think his voice had even changed yet. ‘Never gonna leave you, baby . . .’ he mimicked, croaking the Blue hit like an adolescent.

  “Stop!” She laughed. “Besides, you don’t exactly look like an old geezer either, Jason. Is that peach fuzz I see on your chin here?” She leaned closer to examine another group shot.

  “Ouch? Pretty fast with the comebacks, are we?”

  Hannah looked from picture to picture, enthralled with the captured history of the group she had once followed so faithfully all those years. Photos of the five at dozens of music award shows, appearances on television and concert stages, and many from photo shoots that adorned magazine covers for years. Among them, Laura had included enlarged personal snapshots the guys had taken—horsing around backstage, at recording sessions, on the tour buses as they traveled.

  It was almost more than she could absorb. She took a deep breath, pinching herself to make sure this wasn’t still a dream. She leaned forward for a closer look at a picture of Jason holding hands with a long-legged blonde beauty in a short, tight leather skirt.

  “Ah, Jennifer, isn’t it?” She started to glance over her shoulder but jumped when she discovered Jason standing right behind her. “Whoa, how long have you been standing here?”

  “Long enough. I love looking at all these old pictures. Mom is so good about keeping up with all our stuff. And to answer your question, it just didn’t work out.”

  “What didn’t work out?”

  “With Jennifer. You’d have liked her. She’s terrific. We had a lot of good times together. I’m telling you, she’s crazy. You wouldn’t believe the pranks she used to pull on us.”

  Hannah noticed a far off look on his face and decided to leave it alone.

  He inhaled deeply. “But, y’know what? Sometimes these things just aren’t meant to be. She was ready to settle down and start a family and I wasn’t. I mean, the way I see it, I’ve got to ride this train as long as I can. Or at least until I know it’s time to get off. We’re still friends and we occasionally keep in touch. She’s engaged to an attorney in Nashville. Nice guy. I’m happy for her.”

  “No regrets?” Hannah turned back to the gallery.

  “No regrets. A hard lesson to learn, but I knew in my heart it wasn’t meant to be. Believe it or not—and you may have trouble understanding this coming from me—but I really try to keep tuned in to what God wants me to do with my life.”

  She turned to question his statement, lifting a brow.

  He returned the suspicious expression then headed back to the pool table. “I know—kinda weird, huh? The thing is, I’m not a freak about my relationship with God or anything, but it’s definitely important to me. More than anyone knows.”

  He picked up the eight ball, tossing it gently from one hand to the other. “There just came a time when I knew deep down it wasn’t gonna work out with Jennifer. I fought it, but I knew it wasn’t right. And I think that’s why I have no hard feelings or regrets.” His tone changed. “So I said to her, I said, “Jennifer? ‘If you’re really gonna leave me, just do it and go, ‘cause I ain’t gonna cry, I’ll just get on with the show! ’”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I had no idea that song was so personal!”

  He was laughing again. “Yeah, well, it makes for easy lyrics. What can I say?” He made a silly face, as if he’d been found out. “But wanna know the truth? I still feel like a little kid living this dream life. I’m having way too much fun. One of these days, I’ll know it’s time to walk away from it and . . . I don’t know, just grow up? But I’m in no hurry. Now c’mon, let’s play some pool here. What’s your wager?”

  Hannah walked over to the opposite wall, selected a cue stick and chalked it. “I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

  “If I win, you hang out with me for a few days.”

  WHAT! He might as well have karate-kicked her in the gut—the air sucked right out of her lungs. For a second, she thought she’d faint right there on the pool table. He’s known me a total of two hours and now he’s ready to spend a few days with me? Jason McKenzie wants to hang out with ME?! She tried to hide her shock, turning her back to avoid his probing eyes, continuing to chalk the cue stick.

  Remnants of Laura’s warning bounced around in her head like an echo chamber . . . heartbreaker, heartbreaker, heartbreaker . . . She kept her back to him to buy more time, taking a deep breath and a hard swallow to stop the tornado in her head. She kept moving, hoping he’d think she was just getting ready for their game of pool.

  Think, Hannah, think! These guys can have any girl they want, anywhere, anytime. Women throw their panties at them on stage, for crying out loud! Which means Jason is just coming on to you because that’s what he’s used to. It isn’t you. It’s the whole adoring fan thing. He expects you to drool over the chance to hang out with him. Don’t do it! Don’t you dare! You’re not some adolescent groupie! Just turn around, hold your head high, and show him what you’re made of!

  Hannah turned slowly, still chalking the cue in a grand attempt at nonchalance. “Let me get this straight. If you win, I spend some time with you over the next couple of days.”

  “I think a week would be more suitable.”

  “A week.”

  Not a couple days. A week. He wants a week.

  He made his way toward her side of the table, touching her elbow gently to move past her. She inhaled the musky scent of his cologne. He was humming. He started to dance with his cue stick. Over-animated, suave moves that made her laugh out loud. And it felt so good to laugh. She felt muscles relax, easing the tension.

  Then again . . .

  The battle in her mind continued. He is genuinely nice. He’s polite. He comes from a good home. I mean, the guy loves his mother! She felt her head nodding in rhythm to the debate ping-ponging in her head. And let’s face it. He is flirting with you. How long has it been since anyone other than Ed, the dinosaur janitor, flirted with you? Huh?

  “So is it a deal?” he sang, turning to lunge his cue-stick dance partner in a dramatic dip.

  Be cool. Unimpressed. “I was expecting something like doi
ng your laundry or giving you a foot massage.”

  “Ooooh, now that could be nice—”

  “In your dreams, McKenzie.” That’s it, that’s it. Nice and cool . . . “I’m pretty good at pool. I’ll take the bet. But let’s see—how about if I win, you sing me a song. An original song that you make up, right here, right now. All by yourself. No fancy equipment. Just you and your guitar. Let me see just how good a musician you really are.”

  “Piece of cake. With the addendum that if I lose, we play double or nothing for a second chance.”

  “You’re on. Break ’em.”

  “Stand back, girl. You’re about to witness poetry in motion.” His tone changed. He became the announcer. “The master takes his stance. He carefully stretches across the edge of the table, positioning every muscle for optimum effort . . . he draws back . . . and in a single, fluid motion—”

  “He misses the ball by a mile!” she shouted. “Way to go, Jason. Oh, this is gonna be way too much fun. Move over, Beethoven. Let me show you what ‘poetry in motion’ really looks like!”

  “That was beautiful, Jason.”

  He set the acoustic guitar back into its case. “You’re just saying that. You’re mocking me ’cause you beat the snot out of me over there.”

  “No, I’m not. Of course, it’s not a spontaneous original, so you still owe me. And probably big time, since you tried to cheat me with a Jason classic. But I’ve always loved that song. Why didn’t you guys ever release it as a single?”

  “How do you know that song?” He noticed the blush creeping across her face again and realized how much he enjoyed such innocence. Such a refreshing change.

  “You played it on your first televised Fox Family concert.”

  “You’re right—I’d forgotten all about that. We never released it because I was the only one who liked it. The guys gave me so much grief about it. But it was one of the first songs I wrote, and it still means a lot to me. So I’m glad you liked it. Even if it wasn’t spontaneous.” He rolled his eyes. “Oh well, at least I know there’s two of us on the planet who like it. Which tells me something else about you.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “We have a history together. We both like the same music.”

  “That would be an understatement,” Hannah laughed. “Confessions of a former groupie and all that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and darted her eyes away from his.

  He leaned back and smiled at her. In fact, he realized he couldn’t stop looking at her.

  What is it? Why is this girl getting under my skin? I don’t even know her. She’s kinda cute . . . and the gawking is long gone, thank God. But just look at her—she’s relaxed like she’s been here a thousand times before. What’s that about? And why did Mom invite her over here tonight anyway? That’s so not Mom.

  He watched her squirm under his gaze.

  She looked away, stretching her arms over her head, yawning. “What time is it anyway? I can’t keep my eyes open.”

  Jason peeked at the clock over the counter. It’s only 2:30. The night’s still young!” He stood up. “And don’t you even think about pulling that sleepy stuff. You promised another game if I lost.” He headed back to the pool table. “You owe me a game.”

  “No way. I’m beat. If you’ll recall, I put in a full day at work before your Mom kidnapped me.”

  “Oh yeah, poor baby. And here’s where I’m supposed to get all sympathetic and understanding, right? Forget it. Look, I’ll get us something to drink and make some popcorn. Mom keeps the kitchen down here stocked. What do you want—a Coke? Dr. Pepper?”

  He could tell she was exhausted but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want the night to end. He watched her tortured yawn and felt a twinge of guilt for keeping her up, but it passed.

  Hannah burrowed into the sofa, dropping her head back against the cushions. “How come none of those fan magazines ever told what a cruel person you are?”

  “Because I’m not. I’m just stubborn. Now what’ll it be?” He moved back toward the sofa, standing beside her. He noticed her long lashes fanning the top of her cheeks as her eyelids drooped then closed. She was just so . . . natural.

  That’s it. That’s what makes her so different. She’s natural. Not forced. Nothing striking or stunning. Just fresh and natural. And extremely appealing.

  “Hannah, don’t you fall asleep.”

  Nothing.

  “Don’t you even think about falling asleep.”

  Nothing.

  “HANNAH!”

  “What?!” She jumped with a start. “Don’t do that! Jason, you scared me to death!”

  He grabbed her hands, pulling her to her feet. “You’ve gotta wake up, woman! You see, I’m just a poor, poor boy who needs a little company here. Can you hep’ me out, ma’am? Won’t you hep dis po’ boy?” He batted his eyelashes at her, plastering a silly grin across his face as he backed up, pulling her along to the bar. “Pweeze keep wittle Jason comp’ny, pweeze?”

  “Now, that’s pitiful. Just pitiful. Don’t tell me that actually works on some of your fans?”

  He deposited her on a bar stool then stepped behind the counter. “Sorry. State secrets. I could tell you but—”

  “—you’d have to shoot me. Right. That’s okay. I don’t really want to know.”

  “So? What’s your poison?”

  “Coke straight up with a side of popcorn. And back off. I’m a witch when I’m tired. Just ask my little brother.”

  “You have a brother? Come to think of it, we’ve talked about me all night.” He handed her a tall glass of iced Coke. “Typical. Because, of course, it’s all about me.” He dropped his head in mocked shame. “I’m so sorry. Tell me about your family, Hannah. What’s your brother’s name?”

  “Greg. He’s a linebacker for FSU.”

  “Get outta here! Your brother plays for FSU? He must be good.”

  “Yeah, he’s great. He drove me nuts when we were kids. But then I gave him a lot of grief too.”

  “Any other brothers or sisters?”

  “Nope, just Greg. And then there’s my mom and dad. They still live in Dallas where I grew up. Dad has his own business, an internet company. Mom’s in real estate. Loves it. Then there’s Sassy, our Maltese. She’s getting up there in doggy years, but she’s still part of the family. I had her up here at my apartment for a while, but I’m gone so much with work, it wasn’t fair to her. I took her back home to my parents at Thanksgiving.”

  “Yikes! I just remembered Baby! I’ll be right back,” he yelled flying up the stairs. In a few moments, he was back. “You won’t believe this—she’s all curled up, sleeping on top of the comforter, right between Mom and Dad. I can’t believe it!”

  “I take it your folks like dogs, huh?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve never known Mom to let one sleep on her bed. Must be that Christmas spirit she always gets. Which would explain the extra place setting at the table tonight.”

  She blushed. He loved it.

  “Okay, now where were we? Oh, you’ve told me about your family, but what about you? What are you majoring in?”

  “Journalism. I like to write. Mostly freelance. I’ve had several pieces published already, but—”

  “What kind of pieces? What do you write?”

  “You name it. Mainly human interest stories. I’ve done some interviews for the paper. I did a piece on the history of McMurphy’s that was—”

  “You mean the coffee shop over by the campus?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. It’s been around for almost a hundred years and has a fascinating list of people who’ve worked there while they were in school. Quite a history—two United States senators, a Supreme Court judge, and five NBA players. That was a blast to write—and what exactly are you grinning at?”

  “You. Did you know your whole face lights up when you talk about your writing? It’s like a hundred watt bulb just clicked on inside you. You really love it, don’t you?”

&nb
sp; “Yeah, I guess I do. It’s a tough business to break into, but I love it. Sometimes there are so many different things floating around in my head I want to write about or research that it almost feels like I’m going to explode. My fingers can’t fly fast enough across the keyboard. I’ll get absolutely lost in what I’m writing and realize that hours have flown by and I didn’t even know it.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel when I’m writing music.” Jason rounded the bar and pulled up a stool beside her. “Sometimes I forget to eat or sleep or anything until I finish a song—”

  “—and when you do, it’s like you’ve given birth to your own child, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but then I’ve never experienced childbirth so it’s a little hard to say.”

  “Jason!” she laughed. “I haven’t either, thank you very much. But you know what I mean.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I think that’s totally cool that you have such a passion for what you do. Stay with it. Don’t ever give up. Make a living doing the thing you love to do most? It’s the only way.”

  She watched him take another shot.

  “And that, my dear lady, is how you win at pool. Ha! You’re mine. ALL WEEK!”

  Hannah’s jaw dropped. “That is so unfair! You cheated.”

  “What? I beg your pardon. I do not cheat. Not at pool. Not at anything.”

  “You did too! You distracted me with all these questions. That’s not fair. I demand a rematch.”

  “Too late. Besides, I’m exhausted. It’s now 3:35 in the morning. I can’t believe how inconsiderate you are. You come into our home, you eat our food, then you have the audacity to keep me up all night after my long drive up here. On Christmas, no less.”

  He finished putting away the cue sticks, continuing his faux rant. Then, digging his hands dug deep into his pockets, he slowly walked over to stand beside her. They leaned against the back of the sofa. “By the way, Merry Christmas, Hannah.” His eyebrows danced in mischief.

  Hannah shrugged in resignation. She nodded, folding her arms across her chest and peeking sideways at Jason, noting the smirk still spread on his face. “Merry Christmas, Jason. I suppose you still believe in Santa?”