Before she could change her mind, Joplin tapped the number. She didn’t have long to wait.
“Joplin. What a nice surprise.”
Skye Monroe was a very good actress. She’d followed her dreams, studied hard, and received rave reviews for her work with a local theater group in Seattle. However, Joplin had a good ear for bullshit and believed her old friend meant the greeting and wasn’t just being polite.
“Do you have a few minutes? I need some advice. If you’re busy, I understand?”
“How many times did you listen to my problems?” Skye asked. “The answer is too many. Was it only a couple of weeks ago that we reconnected over pizza and wine? If I recall, I vented—hard. You’re due a turn. Or fifty.”
“If you’re sure,” Joplin said. She knew how to listen, to give advice. Now that the situation was reversed, she wasn’t sure how to begin.
“By my calculations, you’ve had time to visit Beck and Morgan. How are they, by the way?”
“Good. Great.”
“You can fill in the details later,” Skye said, laughing. “So, Kane is next. Are you nervous?”
“I was.”
“Was?” Skye paused. “You’ve already seen him? Should I assume the meeting did not go well?”
This was why Joplin phoned Skye, someone who didn’t need a backstory. No need to rehash the past or get bogged down in emotional baggage. Only someone who lived through the Razor’s Edge experience could empathize.
“You wouldn’t recognize him, Skye.” Joplin searched for the right words. Words to do Kane justice. “He didn’t turn his life around. He blew the old one and reinvented himself.”
“Really?”
“You sound skeptical.” Joplin had to laugh. “Can’t say I blame you. But I hope we have enough history, enough trust, for you to take my word.”
Skye listened without comment as Joplin described, as best she could, the new Kane.
“I believe him, Skye. Everything he told me. I still have a few unanswered questions.”
“A clean and sober Kane.” Skye sighed. “Sounds like a fairytale.”
“Absolute reality,” Joplin assured her friend.
“I believe you. Huh.”
“What?” Joplin asked.
“My heart. I don’t know how to explain.” Skye laughed. “Knowing Kane is okay—better than okay? I think my heart feels lighter. Does that sound silly?”
“No,” Joplin assured her. “For all the drama and anger, we were a family. Dysfunctional, to be sure. But you cared about Kane.”
“I did,” Skye said. “I do. The jerk. Funny, I spent so long forgetting. I think it’s good to remember. Even the bad times.”
“I agree.”
“Kane’s good.” Skye chuckled. “Sorry. Still a new concept. The two of you made your peace?”
“Yes.” Joplin sighed. “Oh, yes.”
“Then what’s wrong.”
“I messed up,” Joplin said. “Big time.”
“Tell me,” Skye urged.
Clearing her mind, focusing, Joplin explained.
“I knew the moment I saw Kane again that I wasn’t in love with him. I’d purged him from my heart.”
“Which is a good thing,” Skye said. “Yes?”
“Yes. Definitely. I was engaged and—”
“Was engaged?” Skye hopped on the Joplin’s choice of words. “As in, the engagement’s a thing of the past.”
Joplin gave Skye a condensed version of the breakup.
“Jerk,” Skye muttered. “Creep.”
“No argument from me. You think you know someone.” Joplin sighed. “But when I met with Kane, Bradley was still a buffer.”
“You stopped loving Kane. Why did you need a buffer?”
“Because I didn’t stop wanting him.” Joplin took a shaky breath. “The moment I saw him, my libido kicked into overdrive. Oomph. My insides turned liquid and my brain turned to mush.”
“I know the feeling,” Skye said, her laugh sympathetic.
“You and Jax?” Joplin felt a burst of hope. “Are the two of you—?”
“Another long story for another time,” Skye interrupted. “Right now, tell me about Kane.”
Certain Skye’s story was at least as juicy as hers, Joplin swallowed her need to know everything and continued. She detailed how her first meeting with Kane played out. How they talked. Argued. Agreed to disagree and said goodbye.
“Then the snowstorm hit.” Joplin let out a derisive snort. “And Bradley turned into a butt wipe.”
“Butt wipe,” Skye laughed. “Good one.”
“The smart thing would have been to stay in my motel room until the avalanche was cleared. But…”
“Well?” Skye demanded. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“Kane cleaned the snow off my rental car.”
“The bastard,” Skye scoffed, the sarcasm in her tone unmistakable. “Some nerve.”
“Joke all you want,” Joplin said. “Do you know how many men I’ve known who would wipe the snow from my shoulder let alone an entire SUV? The total is zero.”
“Sure,” Skye said. “I can see how snow shoveling could turn into an aphrodisiac.”
Skye did understand. Most women would.
“The final straw was his voice.” Joplin made a happy humming sound deep in her throat. “You remember.”
“Oh, yes. Kane’s voice could melt the panties off a woman at thirty paces. Luckily, I was immune.”
“Because you were in love with Jax,” Joplin pointed out.
“Perhaps,” Skye said. “What happened next?”
“Sex. Lots and lots of sex.” Joplin ran her hand over the bed, her toes curling, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. “He’s very good.”
“And…”
“I should have left the next morning,” Joplin said. “Or the next. Or the next.”
“You have been busy. Let me guess,” Skye said. “You’re still in love with him.”
“No.” Joplin curled her arms around Kane’s pillow, breathing in the scent of him. “I fell in love, but with a different man.”
“New? Improved?”
“Kind. Funny. Thoughtful. At peace with himself.” Joplin sighed. “And twice as lethal.”
“Guess I’m missing something,” Skye said. “Why is loving Kane a bad thing?”
“Because I told him I didn’t, I wouldn’t. He agreed to a fling with an old flame.” Joplin’s grip on the pillow tightened. “Kane has a good life here in Stillwater. I don’t want to do anything that might disrupt the flow, so to speak.”
“Kane asked you to stay. He could be in love with you.”
Just the thought made Joplin’s heart pound so hard, she wondered why it didn’t burst from her chest. Loving Kane was a dream come true. If he loved her, she’d… What? Disrupt his carefully constructed life? She was his past and though the last few days had been heaven, their time together had been an unexpected fluke of nature.
“I don’t think Kane sees me as a part of his future.”
“Make me a promise,” Skye said. “Talk to him. Tell him what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. Do not walk away from love, Joplin. Second chances are rare. I doubt you’ll be granted a third.”
“I don’t know.” Joplin sighed. “Maybe. At least I have you back in my life. And I am so grateful.”
“I feel the same.”
Joplin was tired of talking about her problems. Or at least, her Kane problem.
“Any chance you’ve had a change of heart about the reunion?”
“More a slight shift,” Skye said much to Joplin’s surprise.
“You’re kidding.”
“No guarantees,” Skye said in a rush. “Jax and I talked about the possibility. Nothing more.”
“Wait. You and Jax?” Joplin’s hand flew to her mouth. “Tell me everything.”
“Don’t have time.” Skye laughed. “I guess you have
n’t seen the video.”
“What video?”
Joplin had been out of the social media loop for three and a half days. She checked her phone, her messages, every night. How had she missed so much in such a short time? And why hadn’t her assistant let her know what was going on?
“Text the YouTube link,” Skye told her. “Oh. And the one for Beck.”
“Beck?” Joplin thought her head might explode from the rush of information. “What?”
“Talk to you soon.”
Impatient, Joplin checked her phone and smiled when the links showed up, followed by a slyly winking emoji. When Skye said she would text, she didn’t mess around.
Not knowing what to expect, but curious beyond words, Joplin scooted up the bed until her back was against the wall. Using Kane’s pillow as a makeshift table, she wiped her hands and tapped the screen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
♫~♫~♫
FINDING THE SAME table where she and Kane reconnected, Joplin sat near the back of the room. While she waited for him to arrive, she checked out the Karaoke Night drink specials listed above the bar.
“I’ll have a spiked hot apple cider,” Joplin told Frieda. “But make mine a virgin.”
“Ironic,” the waitress muttered.
“Pardon me?” Joplin asked.
“You.” Frieda looked Joplin up and down, her lip curled into a sneer. “Virgin. Ha!”
Not giving Joplin time to respond, Frieda turned on the heel of one high-top sneaker and marched away.
“Bring back some peanuts,” a woman said as the waitress passed by.
“Fuck you, Paz,” Frieda yelled.
The woman, maybe sixty, with a bright smile and neon-green hair, smiled at Joplin and pointed to a free chair.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.” Joplin held out her hand. “Paz. Right? I’m Joplin.”
“Nice to meet you.” Stradling the chair, the woman placed her beer on the table. “Course, everyone in town knows who you are.”
“Do they?” Joplin was amused. “How?”
“Dolly.” Paz shrugged. “She doesn’t mean any harm. In fact, she had nothing but good things to say. Claims you left your motel room cleaner than when you arrived.”
Joplin folded the quilt and picked up her towels from the bathroom floor. Hardly what she would call clean. Then again, she didn’t know what kind of messes Dolly had to deal with from other occupants.
“Kane and I play poker most Thursday nights. Along with Frieda and Mort.” Paz waved at the bar. “Hey, Mort. Say hello to Kane’s friend. Name’s Joplin.”
A large-bellied man with a gray beard and a row of gold hoops lining the edge of one ear raised his glass.
“Howdy, Joplin.”
“Howdy, Mort,” she called back.
“Hear you knew our Kane back in his rock star days.” Paz gnawed at the nail on her right index finger. “What was he like?”
Good question, Joplin thought. The longer she was around Kane, the easier it was to forget the way he used to be—which would be a mistake. These days, Kane was more of a saint than a sinner. She could forgive, but she would always remember.
“Kane was different,” Joplin finally answered.
“Seen pictures.” Paz let out a cackle of delight. “Had enough hair to rival a grizzly bear.”
Frieda delivered the hot cider with a sour look. She glanced at Joplin’s feet.
“Where’s the designer footwear?” she asked, referencing the boots Joplin wore the other night. The ones Frieda coveted before she inexplicably decided Kane’s old friend was the enemy.
“Swapped them out for something more suited to walking in the snow.”
“Hm.” Frieda tossed a bowl of peanuts onto the table in front of Paz. “Enjoy.”
“What did I do?” Joplin asked when the waitress had clomped off.
“Whole town knows you moved out of the motel and into Kane’s place. Fast work.” Paz shrugged. “Don’t bother me none. You’re both young and unattached. Hell, you could be old and married. Wouldn’t matter. Live and let live, I say.”
“I didn’t get the impression Frieda was romantically interested in Kane.”
“She isn’t.” Paz dropped a handful of peanuts into her mouth then proceeded to talk and chew at the same time. “Frieda thinks of Kane like a younger brother. Always looking out for him. Shooing away unsuitable women.”
“What does Kane think about her shooing habit?”
“Best I can tell, he ignores her and sleeps with whomever he fancies.” Paz grinned. “Don’t worry. Kane’s a private guy. He doesn’t kiss or tell.”
“Good to know.”
Joplin took a sip from her cup and gasped, her eyes watering. The liquid was scalding hot, which wouldn’t be so bad if the liquid contained nothing but cider instead of a throat-burning amount of alcohol.
“You okay?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” In the music industry, Joplin dealt with all types. Compared to the sharks she dealt with daily, Frieda’s childish ploy was strictly amateur hour.
Paz sniffed at the cup and frowned.
“Why that little bitch.”
“Please. Don’t raise a fuss, Paz.”
Just as the words left Joplin’s mouth, Kane walked through the door. Paz zeroed in on him and beckoned him over.
“Something wrong?” Kane asked Joplin.
“Just a misunderstanding.”
“My ass,” Paz said with a snort. “Frieda! Get your ass over here.”
Kane removed his coat, his gaze locked with Joplin’s
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Your lady ordered a virgin hot cider. Heard her with my own ears.” Paz handed Kane the cup. “Take a whiff.”
“Damn,” Kane said, wincing. “What the hell is in there?”
“My guess?” Joplin said with a resigned sigh. “Either overpriced whiskey or dirt-cheap rotgut.”
“Jerry doesn’t stock rotgut,” Kane told her.
“You bellowed?” Frieda asked Paz. Hip cocked to one side, she crossed her arms, her gaze defiant.
“Want to tell me how whiskey ended up in Joplin’s drink?” Kane asked.
“She ordered the special,” Frieda said with a shrug.
“Virgin,” Pax said. “You heard her, clear as day.”
“What did I say before?” Frieda asked, her gaze narrowing on the other woman. “Oh, right. Fuck you, Paz.”
Joplin stifled a groan as the rhetoric heated up. She’d hoped for a nice, fun evening with Kane. Now, through no fault of hers, or his, they were in the middle of an argument. A bar fight, even a verbal one, was so cliché.
When Paz, eyes blazing, opened her mouth to inject another snarky comment, Kane quieted her with a single, pointed look. Impressive, Joplin thought. No doubt who was the alpha in his group of friends.
“Why, Frieda?” Kane asked in a cool, reasonable manner.
“Make mine a virgin,” Frieda sneered. “Come on, Kane. Can’t you see her game?”
Kane rested his hand on Joplin’s shoulder. Joplin didn’t need him to fight her battles, but she had to admit, the silent gesture of support was nice. Very nice.
“What’s my game, Frieda? I’d like to know.”
“The other night you order club soda—heavy on the lemon.”
“Joplin does love her citrus,” Kane said, sending her a wink. “Hardly a crime.”
“Add tonight and her non-alcoholic cider?” Frieda threw up her hands. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“No,” Paz said.
“Still in the dark,” Kane agreed. “Joplin? Any ideas?”
“I pass,” she said. Though her curiosity had been piqued.
“Ugh.” Frieda rolled her eyes. “She wants to impress you with her sobriety. An obvious plot to get in your pants. Because you’re a man and easily led around by your dick, she succeeded.”
&n
bsp; “Question?” Joplin glanced at Kane. “Did she just insult me, or you?”
“I think you were the target, but I definitely felt some mud slung my way.”
To emphasize his point, Kane brushed an imaginary bit of something from the sleeve of his shirt.
“Stop laughing,” Frieda growled, her frustration palpable. “The whole town noticed her fancy car parked outside your apartment for the past three days. Three days? Everyone knows you never sleep with a woman more than once.”
Everyone might know, but Joplin didn’t. The feminist in her wasn’t impressed. The woman in love wanted to jump on the bar and do a jig. She was just fine with both reactions.
“Bitch must have moves.”
“Enough, Frieda.” Again, Kane didn’t raise his voice but one look at his face, the set of his jaw and darkening of his eyes, said he’d reached the end of his patience. “Either apologize or leave.”
Kane’s ultimatum didn’t faze Frieda. Instead of retreat and lick her wounds, she doubled down and dug herself a deeper hole.
“While you were at an AA meeting, this one sashays in like she owns the place.”
Frieda’s latest insult bounced off Joplin like a pathetic puff of wind. However, the first part, the part about Kane, resonated through her body. She squeezed his hand.
“AA?” she asked.
“Kane was responsible for setting up Stillwater’s first chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous,” Paz said, fairly bursting with pride. “Used his own money, too. You wouldn’t believe how many people show up, twice a week, without fail. Just the other day, I saw—”
“Paz.” Kane shot her a warning look. “Anonymous, remember?”
Joplin smiled before she did something silly like burst out crying.
“You keep piling on the surprises,” she said.
“Is AA a good surprise?” Kane asked.
“The best.” In case he had any doubts, Joplin wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. “The very best.”
Watching the exchange, Frieda’s hands balled into fists. Face red, she stomped her foot.
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