by Jayne Frost
I pondered for a moment, staring at his outstretched hand, and then I slipped my robe from my shoulders and joined him.
“Fuck.”
The audible groan tumbled out unbidden, and Chase laughed, pulling me flush against him.
“I like your dirty mouth.”
I snorted, my head dropping to his shoulder. “You think I’m bad? You should hear Belle.”
Soft lips brushed my temple. “I have no idea who that is.”
Shocked, I sat up and slanted my gaze to his. “Really?” He shook his head. “Oh … it’s uh … Tori.”
He nodded, and rather than pepper me with questions, which I kind of expected, he shifted his focus to my shoulder and smiled. “This is beautiful.” He ran his palm over the tribute etched on my skin—two birds soaring above a pale gray sky toward a brilliant sun. “Does it mean anything?”
It meant everything.
“It’s for … them.”
I waited the requisite three seconds to see if Chase needed further explanation before slumping into my former spot. The steady rise and fall of his chest loosened the stone over the place where my deepest thoughts resided.
A silent tear slid down my face, falling into a cloud of bubbles.
“Do you think death has a quota?”
“A quota?” Confusion laced his tone. “I don’t understand.”
“I was supposed to be on the bus that night, did you know that?”
I heard him swallow, absorbing the news, the thing they never published in the papers.
“No,” he said quietly.
“So if three people were supposed to die that night,” I continued, “maybe if I had been there, Paige would’ve lived. Or Rhenn.”
Chase’s arms tightened around me. “There is no quota. It was their time. Their destiny.”
Tears clogged my throat, but surprisingly, I controlled the torrent. “Do you believe in heaven?”
Chase blew out a breath. “I suppose I have to. Since I know there’s a hell, there’s got to be a heaven.”
Inclining my head, I looked up at him. “If there is a heaven, do you think they’re together?”
He tucked a strand of wet hair behind my ear. “I think so, baby.”
Nodding, I rested my cheek on his chest. “Me too.”
After a long moment, Chase ran his hands over the goose bumps on my arms. “You cold?”
Numb, that’s what I was, thanks to the pill. After a time, I began to drift and Chase brushed his lips over my ear. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I let him pull me up, and then swayed in my spot while he made quick work of patting me down with the fluffy towel.
After my robe was securely in place, I mumbled, “Thank you … I’m going to go to bed.”
Someone really needed to write a manual on the proper way to say goodbye after a one-night stand, because this was awkward as hell.
Tucked under the covers, I waited for Chase to emerge from the bathroom. But my heavy lids had other ideas.
When I finally heard him rooting around for his clothes, I murmured. “Th-thanks for everything, Lock … lock the door when you leave, okay?”
The mattress dipped, and strong arms banded around me.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
No.
But all I could manage was a sigh.
Soft lips brushed my shoulder. “Sleep, pretty girl.”
And even though I knew it was probably some sense of misguided chivalry that kept Chase here, that’s just what I did.
Chapter 10
Chase
Blinded by the sunlight pouring through Taryn’s window, I reversed our positions and pulled her on top of me.
When did the sun come up?
The question floated away as she groaned and picked up the pace, riding me into the ground.
“Fuck, slow down, baby,” I growled. “I can’t … I can’t stop.”
Palming her breast, I pinched her nipple to drive her over the edge when I felt her inner walls start to clench around my cock.
She tipped forward, her palms flat on my chest and her eyes screwed shut.
“Yes … yes … I’m coming. Chase …”
Burying my face in the crook of her neck, I breathed in the sex and sweat clinging to her skin. And me. I was all over her.
“Right here, baby.”
She shattered, and like the hurricane she was, she took me right along with her. When the storm passed and our breathing was the only sound in the quiet room, the magnitude of my fuck up settled on me like a five-hundred-pound weight.
Staying the night was a mistake. A mistake I could’ve corrected by leaving before Taryn woke up. But instead, I roused her from her sleep and buried myself in her sweet body like a man possessed.
She rolled off me and then threw her arm over her eyes, groaning, “When did the sun come up?”
Laughing, I pressed a kiss to her pouting lips and then climbed out of bed. “At dawn.”
“Hmm,” she mused and, rolling onto her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows and looked out the window. Caramel highlights shimmered in her hair, some trick of light I assumed. Either that or the two rounds of epic sex elevated her to sainthood.
Shaking my head, I ducked into the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
When I returned, Taryn was in her robe, pacing, that damn phone attached to her ear. “I don’t care what it takes, Harper. You’ve got the ticket. Get on the damn plane. If you’re not here by three, the deal is off. I’m not negotiating.”
She ended the call and then tossed the phone onto the bed, glaring at it like it was a venomous snake.
“Everything cool?” I asked as I laced my boots.
She jerked her gaze to mine, a smile curving her lips. “Oh, yeah. Everything’s good.”
I pushed to my feet. “You’ve got a great poker face. But these lines right here,” cupping her nape, I smoothed the tiny wrinkles around her mouth with my thumb, “they give you away.”
“And you’re an expert in frown lines?”
“No. But I’ve negotiated my share of deals.”
Since there were no accidents, my slip of the tongue could only be blamed on one thing. I wanted to see Taryn again.
She picked up the breadcrumb I offered and replied, “What kind of deals?”
I blew out a breath and looked around. “This building, for one. When I bought it, it was in foreclosure. Just an old warehouse. But the bank didn’t want to let it go.”
Chancing a peek at Taryn’s face, I paused and let it sink in. Likely, she had no earthly idea whose name was behind the corporation who owned BlueBonnet Towers. And even if she decided to check, which she would, there wasn’t much to find. A simple LLC in the name of the Phoenix Group, owned by a larger holding company, Nobelesque. Since she knew my name, the pieces would fall into place.
She sank onto the bed, circumspect. “The Phoenix Group owns this building.” Her gaze flicked to the tattoo on my forearm, a phoenix rising from the ashes. “You own the Phoenix Group?”
“Yes.”
Her brow arched impossibly high. “And you work as a bartender?”
I laughed. “No, darlin’. I tend bar at Nite Owl, the bar I own. I don’t freelance.”
Her lips wobbled as she tried to keep from smiling. Since I didn’t intend on telling her anything else for the moment, I pounced, dropping a kiss to her mouth as I eased her onto the mattress. “You laughing at me? Bartending’s honest work.”
She twined her fingers into my hair, pressing her lips together. “Not laughing,” she said when she got herself under control. “I’m just wondering how many other hidden talents you have. Do you juggle?”
“As a matter of fact …”
The front door slammed and she jerked to her elbows. “What the hell?”
Thundering footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Taryn! Are you here?”
Shooting to her feet, Taryn fumbled to secure the wrinkled sheet under her arms. “Don’t y
ou dare come up here!” she hollered a second before Beckett Brennin stormed into the room.
Skidding to a stop, his gaze floated from Taryn to me and back to her.
“What the fuck is going on?” he roared.
Since I wasn’t sure if the asshat was talking to me, I rose to my full height. Brennin wasn’t small, over six feet by a hair, but the couple inches I had on him gave him pause.
“What are you doing here?” Taryn asked with enough surprise in her tone to let me know she wasn’t expecting him.
“I live here.”
Brennin looked straight at me, and it was like fate had stepped in to save me from myself. But if that were the case, why did I have the urge to wring the fucker’s neck until he took it back?
In the few seconds that elapsed, the precious time I could’ve spent hauling ass for the door, Taryn found her voice. It was small, but emphatic, with a warmth around the edges that made me see red.
“You don’t live here, Becks. You haven’t lived here in months.”
Brennin leaned against the doorframe, his cool façade at war with his clenched fists. “I haven’t been in town for months, Taryn. But the last time I was here, I slept in that bed.”
Our eyes met and his cool demeanor crumbled. “Now why don’t you get the fuck out of here and let me talk to my girl.”
I had a couple of choices: leave, or describe the multitude of ways I’d made his girl come in the past few hours. Option two was definitely more appealing, but option one was clearly the way to go.
Taryn must’ve sensed it, because she grabbed my arm. “Don’t go. Beckett was just leaving.”
Brennin barked out a laugh. “I’m not going anywhere, T-Rex. And we both know it.”
Taryn cringed. Brennin smiled. And my thoughts drifted back to option one.
I jerked when my phone vibrated. Wrestling the device from my pocket, I hit ignore on Logan’s call, then scrolled to a text—also from Logan.
Where are you? Is Laurel with you? That Calista chick just called. She can’t find her.
“Shit,” I muttered as I tapped out my reply.
She’s not with me. I’m on my way.
“Is everything okay?” Taryn asked, all her focus on me.
Clarity took hold, and I raked a hand through my hair, prepared to give Taryn the “it’s been nice” speech. “Listen, I gotta go. I think …”
Beckett snorted, and I met his gaze. One prick to another, I guess he recognized the beginning of a brush off when he heard one.
Before I could stop myself, I took Taryn’s hand. “How about dinner tonight?”
What the fuck are you doing?
The answer came when she smiled. Like I’d given her a gift.
“Sure. I mean … if you want.”
I swept a tangled lock behind her ear. “Yeah, I want. How’s seven o’clock work for you?”
The sparkle returned to her eyes, driving away the clouds and revealing a clear blue sky filled with possibilities. “Good. Seven’s good.”
I pulled Taryn in for a quick peck, but she cupped my cheek and her lips parted.
“I’m right fucking here!” Brennin whined as she deepened the kiss.
When my phone rang, I pulled away to check the screen.
I hit ignore, but not before Taryn caught a peek at Laurel’s name flashing on the display.
I didn’t have time to explain, so I dropped the device into my pocket. “See you at seven, baby.” Taryn nodded, questions swimming in her eyes. “And pack a bag. We can stay at my loft.” With a pointed look at Brennin, I added, “Nobody will interrupt us there.”
I headed down the stairs, and before I reached the bottom, Beckett was whining. As I pulled the front door closed, I tried not to imagine some outlandish scenario where they ended up tangled in our sex sheets.
Bypassing the elevator, I headed for the stairwell.
Cursing under my breath as I flew down the concrete steps, I hit redial on Laurel’s number.
“Where are you?”
She rambled incoherently but finally managed to offer a street. I recognized the neighborhood.
“Stay put,” I warned. “And I swear to God, if you’re any more fucked up when I get there than you are right now, I’m taking you straight back to rehab.”
Chapter 11
Taryn
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed, pushing Beckett out of the way as I headed for the stairs. “Don’t you have a supermodel waiting for you back at your place?”
It only took thirty seconds for my claws to come out. A new record.
Stalking to the kitchen, I yanked open the cupboard while Beckett eased onto a barstool.
He picked up a wooden napkin ring we’d bought in Denmark and twirled it around his finger. “The only girl I have is you. I’ve been going out of my fucking mind. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
A bag of coffee clutched in my fist, I whirled around. “Do you really want me to answer that?” He dropped his gaze to his clasped hands. “Didn’t think so. Now tell me what you’re doing here.”
I turned my attention to the state-of-the-art coffee pot and glowered at the machine. Usually, I left the brewing to the professionals at Starbucks since my coffee tended to taste like sludge.
Starbucks.
Where I met Chase.
Yesterday …
Beckett’s gruff voice interrupted my self-recrimination over the guy I picked up with my morning coffee. “I came here for you. Didn’t you talk to Ash? And what about your little friend? What’s his story?”
I ducked into the fridge to grab the cream. “His name is Chase, and he doesn’t have a story. He owns … um, Nite Owl Pub on Sixth Street.”
And this building. And a lot of other things. But I left that part out.
I poured cream into two cups, cringing when Beckett’s arms slid around my waist. “That’s digging into the archives a little, isn’t it, babe? A dive bar on Sixth?”
“You got your start on Sixth,” I reminded him, the gruff edge seeping from my tone.
He rocked me slowly, the way he used to. “Is that what the guy wants? A start?”
Spinning around, I glared up at him. “Are you saying the only reason a guy would ask me out is because of who I am?”
Beckett’s hands curled around my hips, and he traced small circles on the bones. An intimate gesture he’d perfected when we were fifteen and he was trying to convince me to go all the way. “I didn’t say that. I’m only pointing out that it’s a little strange that some random guy chats you up in a bar on Sixth without an endgame. You’re pretty recognizable.” He narrowed his gaze. “What were you doing out by yourself at a bar anyway?
“I didn’t meet him at the bar. I met him at Starbucks.”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
“When?”
I busied my hands pouring the coffee. “Yesterday.”
“So, my girlfriend goes out and picks up some dude the day before I come home.” He leaned closer, his accusatory tone a low growl in my ear. “Nothing strange about that.”
Blowing right past the point about not knowing he was coming home, I shoved the cup into Beckett’s hand. “I’m not your girlfriend. There’s no press around, so drop the act.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about that crap you fed Ash.” His mouth dropped open to protest, but I rolled right over him. “I understand why y’all offered up the story. But I read Maddy’s quotes. ‘Beckett and I are deliriously happy,’” I mocked, ditching my southern twang for a ridiculously high female voice. “‘We’re so lucky we found each other.’ Where is your lucky girl now, Beckett? Waiting dutifully at your hotel until you square things with me? Why? We’re not together. And just so you know. Tori’s pissed. I’m not the only one who got hurt with this little stunt.”
Despite everything, I didn’t want to fight. Beckett was my first love, would always be my first love, and love still glowed between us. For a lo
ng time, I believed I couldn’t love anyone else.
“I’ll make it right with Tori. I’ll explain and—”
“No, you won’t,” I said quietly. “I’m moving heaven and earth to make sure that Tori never finds out about any of this. But she’s so raw. The producer is calling about your album. The label is pissed. You’re over budget and off schedule. That’s on me.” I tapped my chest. “I couldn’t go to LA because of your girlfriend, and now this.”
All the things I’d been keeping inside bubbled over, and I let my head fall forward.
Beckett sat down at the dining room table and then buried his head in his hands. “You don’t understand.”
“Then tell me.”
I took a seat beside him and he entwined our fingers, caressing my infinity tattoo. “She’s not my girl. You’re my girl. And she knew that.”
The collar of his shirt gaped just enough to see the edge of the large “T” emblazoned over his heart. As if he could read my mind, he laid my palm flat on his chest. “You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”
“I’m not the only one,” I said quietly. “I haven’t been for a long time.”
With a ragged sigh, Beckett raked a hand through his hair, shoved back from the table, and started to pace. I waited, wondering whether I was giving him time to collect his thoughts or enough rope to hang himself with. Eventually, shoulders slumped, he sank down against the half wall separating the bar from the kitchen. “Maddy Silva means nothing to me. Nothing.” He shook his head, as if saying it made it so. “Things got out of hand, but it wasn’t—it isn’t what you think.”
I didn’t want to hear any more. With Beckett, the cure might be worse than the disease. Still, I joined him on the floor, drawn to his side by the tether that bound us.
“Becks … What aren’t you telling me?”
Sighing, he pulled the smokes from his pocket, holding out the pack. A familiar longing gripped my chest. I’d given up the habit long ago, but the craving remained. Cigarettes and Beckett Brennin, my two strongest weaknesses.
“Take one,” he taunted. “You know you want to.”
“God, you are a bad influence.” Snatching the Marlboro, I leaned in for a light. “Oh, sweet Lord—” I groaned as I inhaled, “—that’s so good.”