Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (Hautboy Series Book 3)

by Anne Berkeley

  “Yeah.” On both accounts. The physical relief of removing the cuffs was insignificant to the relief his words provided.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t want to be one of those girls. The ones that were high maintenance. Demanding a vow of love just because they had sex. I didn’t need love. Not quite yet. But some small acknowledgement would be nice. An I like you would suffice.

  “Do I get to know your middle name now?”

  “Not a chance.”

  Jake’s laughter vibrated straight down his arms and through his hands. “I like you, Shaw. A lot.”

  “A lot?” I was allowed to wallow. He said it first.

  Leaning closer, I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. “Enough to know your favorite color isn’t purple. It’s red.”

  A smile spread across my face, as wide as the sky was tall. “I still like you more, but that’s a given.”

  “I might be in a band, Shaw, but I’m still human. Maybe if you’d quit putting me on a pedestal you wouldn’t be so afraid to talk to me.”

  “Who said anything about a band. I was referring to the sex.”

  “In that case you can place me on any pedestal you want.” He was still shaking with laughter as he pulled me against his chest. He pressed a line of kisses along my neck and shoulder before pulling my tee over my head. “As much as I’d like to discuss my virility, I need to eat something. I wasn’t eating croissants and sipping mimosas all morning. I’m starving.”

  Now that he mentioned it... “What did you order?”

  “Almond Chicken, Royal Beef, Moo Shu Pork, Hulatang. I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for.” As I pushed my arms through the sleeves of my shirt, he lifted an eyebrow at my lack of lower attire. My shirt barely covered my navel, and my underwear were toast.

  “Guess I’m going commando.”

  Instead, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to me. “Leave ‘em. I eat fast.” Flushing, I removed my shirt and pulled his over my head. It was marginally better, barely reaching the top of my thighs. “On second thought,” Jake amended, grasping the hem of my shirt, “fuck the food.” He tugged it back over my head in one smooth draw.

  Chapter 16

  Is it Ann?”

  Laughing to myself, I shook my head. Jake paused his work long enough to watch for a reaction. “No.”

  “Lynn…? Rose…? Jane…?”

  “I’m not telling!”

  “Why? What’s the big deal?”

  “It’s not,” I lied. “I have to keep some secrets to myself. If I tell you everything up front, there won’t be anything left to hold your interest”

  “I’m positively sure there will.” Using the handle for the paint roller, he hooked the back of my shirt, and peeked at my rear. “Oh, yeah, definitely haven’t lost interest.”

  “That doesn’t count.” I pushed the end of the pole away and went back to cutting in. Somehow I got cajoled into helping paint his living room. “That’s just sex.”

  “Just…sex…” The notion was foreign to him.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I fucked you to tears earlier and you reduced it to ‘just sex.’”

  “Don’t pout.”

  “So much for that pedestal.”

  For a moment, I had to stop painting because my hand was shaking over my laughter. It was a little past one in the morning. I was getting a little loopy. “Stop making me laugh—you’re going to make me mess up.”

  “Shaw, you’ve been bumping my ceiling since you started. You’ve got the shakiest hand I’ve ever seen in my life. The fucking walls are scalloped. It looks like a gingerbread house.”

  “Then why did you tell me to do the cutting in?”

  “Because I get a great view of your ass up on that ladder.”

  My mouth popped open, indignantly. “You put the ladder this far from the wall on purpose, didn’t you?” I had to stretch to reach the edge. It was no wonder my lines were so crooked. Between balancing on the ladder, struggling to keep my shirt from riding up my ass, and trying my best not to drip paint on the carpet, I was lucky I didn’t fall and break my neck.

  Answering my question, Jake smiled crookedly, peering at me from the corner of his eye. “I did no such thing. It’s right where I left it when I was painting earlier. I can’t help it that you have shorter legs than I do.”

  “You’re full of shit.” Climbing down from the ladder, I took a few steps back and inspected my work. My mouth twisted in a grim line. Levy could’ve done better. “You know you’re going to have to fix it, don’t you?”

  “I’ll hire someone. I hate painting.” Outed, he propped his roller in the paint tray and wiped his hands and the legs of his jeans.

  “Why didn’t you hire someone in the first place?”

  Jake’s smile faded. He lifted one shoulder irresolutely. “After what happened Saturday night, I thought the space might do us both some good.”

  Well…wow… “And now?”

  “Space wouldn’t have made a difference.”

  Placing my brush beside his roller, I brushed an errant strand of hair from my face. “I'd like to see Coop's pregnancy through.”

  “I thought you quit.”

  “I did. I'd like to be there for her as a friend, without pay, of course. There aren't any rules against that, are there?”

  “Tate's not going to terminate your pay.”

  “I'll refuse it. I'd feel weird taking money from him anyhow. Coop doesn't really need a nurse.”

  “What'll you do to pay your bills?”

  “Jake.” Revealing the extent of my destitution wasn't a prime topic of conversation.

  “It's a question, Shaw. Answer it.”

  “I have a few thousand to hold me over until I find a new position.”

  “A few thousand.”

  “Not all of us have the choice of following our dreams,” I retorted. “Some of us have to work for a living. We don’t get to sit around and bang on the piano all day for endless amounts of cash.”

  Jake stared, affronted. “Bang on the piano?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “That was a terrible thing to say.”

  “I should put that gag back in your mouth. It’s the only thing that seems to keep you from shooting it off every time you don’t feel like answering a simple question.”

  “I can't help it. I get snippy when I’m tired.”

  “Then you’re tired often. Maybe you should try getting more sleep.”

  “I do get enough sleep; it's just not restful.” Especially when he was waking me all hours of the morning all hot and bothered, and denying me relief.

  “Take the money. Tate appreciates your help more than you know.”

  “You're ok with it?”

  “No point in fighting a losing battle.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don't thank me. I shouldn't be doing this.”

  “Fine. Fuck you, then.” If he was going to be that way. “I'll get my clothes. You can drive me home. Tell Coop it was nice knowing her.”

  Jake grabbed my arm as I turned to walk away. “Why do you insist of driving me fucking bat shit crazy?”

  “It’s not me at all; it’s you! You do it to yourself! I don’t know what you’re so afraid of! I’m the one taking the chance! If things don’t work out between us, then I leave. I go on my merry way. You’ll never have to see me again.”

  “And you’ll be out of a job.”

  “Fuck the job! I have nothing to lose. If my funds run low, I’ll let Peter move in with me. He practically lives there already. At least he’ll be responsible for half the rent.” Flattening my palms on his chest, I felt his heartbeat beneath my fingers, reminding myself that he was human. “Jake, you’re surreal to me. You're so far out of reach, it isn't funny. You have choices. You have money. I know you have the option of having someone a lot prettier and a hell of a lot richer, but don’t think for one second that I won’t knock you off that fu
cking pedestal. And when I walk away, I won’t look back. I’m old enough to make my own decisions. Like the rest of the world population, I can survive on middle class pay. I have for the past two years. I don’t need a man to take care of me. So stop trying to be the gentlemen and the martyr. I’m not a fucking cause for charity.”

  Jake stared at me a long hard moment. Coming to an internal conclusion, he dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm fucking this up, aren't I?”

  “Yes."

  “I'm sorry."

  “I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be sure. You screw me over a second time, and you won't get a third chance. I might be precarious, but I'm not a pushover.”

  “Understood.” Hooking the back of my neck, he drew me closer and pulled me into his arms. “You're a fucking force to be reckoned with when you're angry.”

  “Remember that.”

  “How can I forget? I think you bruised my kidneys.”

  “Then we're square.”

  Jake laughed softly and rested his head atop mine. “I don’t think I could leave you alone if I tried, Paisley Susan Shaw.”

  Bursting into laughter, I said, “No, it’s definitely not Susan.” Paisley Sue…it was much worse than that. My mother was brutally inept when it came to naming her children.

  “See?” he said, tilting my head back. His lips paused a breath away from mine. “If not to stick around for the sex, then to figure out your middle name.”

  “Indeed.” His perseverance was cute but insufferable. “Let’s focus on the sex, though. It leaves both parties gratified in the end.”

  Closing the distance, Jake pressed his lips to mine. Slowly, he guided me backwards, toward the sofa. Unfortunately, we forgot about the roller and paint tray. I caught it with my heel, wobbled and tripped. I caught myself before I could fall, but I managed to tip the paint tray over. Beige latex began spreading across the drop cloth and toward the hand knotted rug.

  “Smooth, Jake,” he sighed. “Jesus, that was smooth.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It's my fault. I walked you right into the thing.” Pushing his hand through his hair, he glanced at the mess and then headed toward the kitchen. “I have to get that up before it gets on the carpeting. My grandmother will have a heart attack.”

  “You live with your grandmother?”

  Jake stopped in his tracks. “No, she lives in an adult community, but she visits on occasion.” Shaking his head, he disappeared into the kitchen. A few seconds later, he came back out with a roll of paper towels and a waste basket. “You were about to take delight in that, weren’t you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Whatever. I love my gram. I’m not afraid to admit it.” Taking the first towel, he balanced the other in his palm and unraveled a long string of them from the roll. “She’s a real ball of fire. Couldn’t wait to move out so she could ‘hang with her homies.’ Her words, not mine.”

  “When did she move out?”

  “Last week.”

  I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. “You’re lying.”

  “Yeah. She moved out a few years ago when Mattie went to college. I’m on the road a lot. When I’m not, I crash at the club, Tate’s house, and here on occasion. The house was essentially empty. She didn’t see any reason to stay. It was too much to maintain.”

  “Why the painting, then? Are you fixing it up to sell it?”

  “No.” All humor faded from his expression. “Mattie graduates in May. I’m trying to have it done for when she comes home.”

  “Sore subject?”

  “You could say that.” He didn’t seem inclined to discuss it any further, so I browsed idly over the room. The place looked nothing like the typical grandma’s house. My grandma had plastic covered furniture and carpet runners that were like torture devices when upturned. This place was an interior decorator’s haven. It was absolutely stunning, down to the baby grand piano angled between a wall of bookcases and another of family portraits.

  “When my parents died, I was only ten. Mattie was two. It was hard, losing my parents and moving to a new school.” He shrugged his shoulders, glancing up from his work. A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. “But that was nothing compared to when I hit puberty.”

  “I can imagine,” I said wryly.

  “No, you have no idea—”

  “You forget I have ten brothers.”

  “But you had ten brothers, a mother, and a father to deal with it. I had this testosterone and angst coursing through my system and no authority. My grandmother was at a loss. She had no idea how to control me. I mean, I was bad. Other kids were playing soccer and little league. I was fist fighting, blowing shit up, and burning shit down. I’m not saying she took it sitting down. She argued with me until blue in the face, and gave me the belt when that didn’t work. But at that age, I couldn’t hear anything that didn’t want to be heard.”

  “So what finally got through to you?”

  “She had a friend that worked at the FDC. He took me to work with him for the day, put me in a room with a few of the inmates. We had a little therapy session, the four of us.”

  A snicker escaped me over the thought. “What did they say to you?”

  “In great detail, they told me what happened to pretty boys like me in prison. And then one of them winked at me.”

  “Oh my God!” I laughed, holding my stomach. “That must’ve been horrifying!”

  “Set me straight real fucking quick.” Finished cleaning up the spilled paint, Jake looked over at me. I had taken a seat on the piano bench, and was half leaning on the edge, running my fingers idly across the keys. “Anyhow, my gram had a long talk with me on the drive home. She explained that my behavior was affecting Mattie, and that as an older brother and man of the house, I was supposed to be a role model. Then shrewdly explained that women had correctional facilities as well.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I know, right?” Shaking his head, he stood and smoothed the legs of his jeans. “I hadn’t been very observant of my sister until then. From that day on, though, I did my best to help my gram raise her.”

  “I’m sure you were a good big brother.”

  “I wasn’t a saint. I still had my moments.”

  “Well, you were a boy,” I said understandingly. “Even the best of them have their shares of skinned knees and bloody noses.”

  “Gram knew that. When I was with the guys, she tried to make sure that was my time. I didn’t like to mix Mattie and the band.”

  “Ah, the inception of the ‘rules.’”

  “They were necessary. Mattie crushed on all of them at one time or another.”

  “Would the guys have really slept with her, though?” I asked, and then immediately recanted my words. “Don’t answer that. Forget I asked.” Carter had allegedly slept with not one, but two girls of unknown age when they were on tour in Nampa. Tate slept with most girls across the country. Shane had probably been too drunk or high to make an informative decision.

  “Do you see where hypocrisy, in my situation, could be subversive to my own principles?”

  Frowning, I dropped my gaze, looking away. I finally understood the intention of the conversation. I had suspected that Mattie was a large part, but he’d confirmed it.

  “It’s a moot point, now,” Jake said, noting the change in my expression. “Mattie’s involved with someone.”

  “Oh, really?” I said, somewhat sharply. “Do you approve of who she chose?” As if Mattie needed his approval. I hadn’t even met his sister and I was indignant for her.

  “That’s moot, too. He wants to ‘do right’ by her. She’s made it clear that whatever she decides, it’s none of my business.”

  Oh, dear God. “She’s pregnant.”

  “A few months along, just past the point of termination.”

  “Wow.” That had to be a blow for someone who’d turned his life around so that he’d be the proper role model for his little sister. “Sorry.”
>
  “I’m disappointed. Not in her; for her. She hasn’t graduated, let alone start her career. She hasn’t seen the world. She hasn’t truly lived. Having a kid will definitely set her back.”

  “It hasn’t slowed Coop down. If she has the determination and the support she needs, she’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not just that. I want her to be happy. I don’t want her marrying this guy just because she thinks it’s the right thing to do. God forbid it doesn’t work out between them, she’ll have to deal with divorce and custody.”

  “You need to stop with the ‘what ifs.’ What’s going to happen is going to happen. The only thing you can do is be there for her. Although, I have to say if she’s anything like you, the father’s the one that’s going to need the shoulder to cry on.”

  Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Shaw…” He left his threat hang in the air.

  Smirking, my fingers danced over the piano keys, playing a line from The Entertainer. Which, in turn, caused Jake to arch his eyebrows at me.

  “You play.”

  “Played.” I waved it off, and spun on the bench to face him. “Elementary through high school. Haven’t touched one in a few years. In fact, if I thought about that song too hard, I probably would’ve botched it up entirely.”

  “How did I not know this?”

  “It never came up until now.” I stood. Jake had made his way over and stopped in front of me, looking down over his cheekbones with curiosity. “What should I have said, Jake—Hi, I’m Paisley Shaw. I play the piano. You play the piano. We must be destined to be together?”

  Laughing, Jake scrubbed his jaw. “Did you choose me over the others because I played the piano?”

  “No!”

  “Tell the truth. You know how I feel about liars.”

  “Maybe. Yes! Damn it!” Hiding a smile behind my hand, I let the full truth come out. “I might’ve had posters of you hanging above my bed, too.”

  “Of me?”

  “Well, they were of the band.” Embarrassed, I hastily backtracked. “You don’t understand! I didn’t have walls. I shared a room with my sisters. The only way to have my own space was to make my own canopy bed. Anything on the inside of that curtain was mine. So I hung my posters on the ceiling. Otherwise my sisters drew mustaches and glasses on everyone, and made you all look like Groucho Marx!”