Cover Story

by Rachel Bailey

  Once the crowd had settled and gone back to the food table, I approached the Los Alamos Court musician as he packed his guitar in its case.

  “You know, Lukas, that song’s pretty good.”

  He grinned, obviously still pumped from the performance. “Yeah, I played it for the band last night and they’re thinking of incorporating it into our set. You know, topical theme.”

  “Mmm hmm.” My mind was racing. Grandpa Jack had a recording label in his portfolio and, much as I hated queue jumping, I could probably get the band an audition. If there was enough support for a website, the number of cards flowing into the paper, and the people who’d lined their streets with farolitos I’d passed on the way over, then there was enough support for this song. As long as the band was good enough.

  “How good is the band you’re playing with at the moment?”

  “We are the shit! You should come and listen. We’re playing tonight—I’m leaving in about fifteen minutes.”

  I’d need to hear them to recommend them, so why not? “I might just do that.”

  “Cool.” He sauntered back to the food table and someone put a stereo on.

  I heard Simon at my ear: “You really going?”

  Keeping my back to him, I watched Lukas walk off. “Yep.”

  “Alone?”

  His breath sent a shimmer of tingles down my spine. I ignored it. “Yep.”

  He moved around in front of me, seeming to take up more space than he physically did. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “If they’re good enough, I might be able to help them get an audition with a label.”

  One corner of his mouth curved up. “No, why are you going alone?”

  “Because it’s on soon and I don’t have time to organize with anyone else.” I cast a glance around Gerald’s yard, taking in the scene. I really didn’t want to talk about my social life with a man who had a habit of teasing me.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  My eyes snapped back to his. “Why?”

  He shrugged and tucked his thumbs in his jeans waistband. “Because those type of places aren’t so fun on your own.”

  “For your information, I—”

  “Yeah, I’m sure I can guess the rest.” He grinned and rocked back on his heels. “Tobi, relax and pretend I’m coming because I want to spend time with you, then you won’t have to feel insulted.”

  He walked away and I was left staring at his retreating back. Nice back—broad shoulders that his shirt clung to, then skimmed his body until it disappeared into his jeans. And those jeans were covering—

  Focus! How dare he assume—Oh, what the heck? I was starting to feel a bit sleepy—. I’d have to cut back on late nights—so if he drove it’d probably be a good thing.

  I made my way around the other residents in twenty minutes, before I approached Simon and said, “Ready to go?”

  “Sure.” An easy-going smile stretched across his face. “I’ve arranged it with Mom and Anna. Let me drop home and get a coat. You driving or me?”

  I winced. “You’d better, I’m feeling pretty washed out.”

  “Okay, we’ll drop your car at your place on the way. I’ll meet you in my driveway in a couple of minutes.”

  I said goodbye to those nearest me and, with an eye out for Winston, walked along the road past Valentina’s house to Simon’s driveway. A yawn surprised me before I had a chance to hold it back, all I could do was cover it with a hand. Maybe I needed to increase my coffee intake?

  Simon was quick and we climbed into our respective cars, waving to those still at the gnome vigil as we passed. He followed me to my apartment block and waited while I locked my car and jumped into his. He smiled in greeting and I smiled back, trying to stifle another yawn, but didn’t have much luck. I hated that, when I told my body to do something and it disobeyed. I tried again on another yawn and had about the same success.

  Simon paused before pulling out onto the road. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You look exhausted.”

  “Gee, thanks, just what every girl wants to hear.” I pulled my jacket tighter around me.

  He shrugged. “Sorry. Just concerned.”

  We arrived at the downtown bar and had about twenty minutes before Lukas’ band, Dig Dog, came on.

  “Do you want a drink?” Simon asked as we walked through the front doors.

  A drink. Good idea. I needed something to do with my hands. “Yes, please. What are you having?”

  He took off his coat and laid it over his forearm. “A beer. Just one, I’m driving.”

  “I’ll have a vodka and orange. Make it a double.” If I was going to have a drink, may as well dive right in.

  We found a table and while I looked around, he went to get our drinks. It was one of the venues for local bands in Santa Fe, but it still felt like a bar. Not my favorite of places—they always smelled of a pleasant combination of beer-vomit and sweat. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine. And was the lighting in these places always this low? I stifled another yawn and opened my eyes to see Simon putting our drinks on the table. The smell of his beer reminded me again of beer-vomit—maybe I wasn’t in the right mood for alcohol, but I was too tired to think straight.

  “So, Tobi, did you always want to be a journalist?” The dim lighting was sure doing Simon some favors—not that he needed them, of course, but his muscular frame was partially silhouetted and seemed almost too sexy.

  I shook my head a little to clear it. “I don’t know. I was good at English at school and my teachers told me I should.”

  He leaned forward. “But did you want to study it?”

  Had I? I frowned and drank some of my vodka orange. “I don’t think I had a strong opinion about it either way.” Were my words coming out slower? I rushed on to cover it. “I wanted to be good at something, and if this was my best chance at succeeding, then I wanted to study it.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not quite the same thing, though, is it?”

  What was this? The Spanish Inquisition? I drank more of my vodka and looked around. “Have you heard Lukas’ band before?”

  He leaned back in his chair, bringing an ankle up to rest on his other knee. “No, but I’ve heard him play. He has a drum set, so the whole street has heard him play.” Rather than being annoyed, he chuckled. I wasn’t so sure I’d have been as understanding.

  “He obviously plays the guitar too.” The band was on stage setting their equipment up. Lukas saw us and gave us a grin and a thumbs-up.

  “Lots of musicians play more than one instrument.” Simon flashed a smile then looked back at the stage.

  Something in the way he said it made me look over. “Know something about it?”

  He shrugged. “I was in a band myself when I was younger.”

  “Really?” I looked him over again, imagining him in tight, black, rock ’n’ roll pants. Perhaps a form-fitting black T-shirt, showing off those biceps. Oh, very bad move—tight and black suited him. I sculled the rest of my drink. “What did you play?”

  “Lead guitar.” He sipped his beer.

  Damn. Tight, black clothes and a guitar swung across his torso. “Any success?”

  “A few bar gigs, but we folded before anything big could happen.”

  Lukas’ band did a sound check and the sound engineer gave the okay signal.

  “Do you miss it?”

  “I had a great time doing it, but I wouldn’t swap my life now for anything.” There was a softness in his smile that I envied. Though, whether I envied him or Anna—or both—I wasn’t sure.

  Was the light getting blurrier? I tried hard to focus. “Do you still play?”

  “Yeah, I play for Anna sometimes.” He took a swig of his beer. How did he still have so much in his glass? “And if I feel down, I get the guitar out.”

  I was feeling so sleepy I looked at the table to see if I could put my head down.

  “Are you all right, Tobi?” His voice was faint.

  “I don’t thin
k so, something’s wrong.” I was far too sleepy and I knew I was speaking slowly. “You know, Simon, I think I’ll …” I didn’t even feel my head hit the table.

  Chapter 9

  My eyes drifted open to darkness. At least it seemed dark, but my head was a bit too fuzzy to be reliable. I peered at my alarm clock. Two a.m. Well, that explained the absence of light.

  Although if it was the middle of the night, why was I awake? There was something I should remember. Like a word on the tip of my tongue, but more like a memory on the tip of my brain.

  I slid out of bed and realized I was still wearing the clothes from the night before. Last night … what had I been doing last night?

  A flutter of panic let loose in my stomach. I couldn’t remember. Standing in the dark, one hand ineffectually rubbing the anxiety in my belly, I tried to get my brain to work. No dice.

  I took a deep breath and walked to the kitchen in search of water. I’d think better once hydrated. No need for alarm. I’d remember everything in a minute.

  Something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention and I abruptly stopped. There was a man asleep on my couch. Not just any man, but Simon Hanson. Strangely, the panic in my stomach eased, as though Simon was safe to have around.

  I silently groaned. How bad were things when I needed a man to make me feel safe? And what man had ever made me feel safe before? Not one. So, if this man did, what did that mean? The panic grew from a flutter to whirlwind proportions but I pushed it back down until the only sign was a slight trembling in my hands.

  I stole a look up and down the length of his body, outlined by my red tartan blanket. Had he and …?

  Surely not, otherwise he’d be in my bed.

  Then why? My head was still so fuzzy …

  Focus, Fletcher! I couldn’t face Simon with no recollection of how he came to be here. On my couch. Asleep.

  I nibbled on a thumbnail. I’d gone to the gnome vigil and then … and then … we went to the bar to see Lukas’ band! That was it. Why couldn’t I remember seeing the band? The anxiety crept back, accompanied by frustration at myself for not remembering something so huge, like why that magnificent body was here on my couch.

  I marched over to Simon and shook his shoulder.

  “Oh,” he said, his voice husky with sleep. “You’re awake.” He yawned and ran a hand though his hair.

  “Yes, I’m awake. The question is, why was I asleep? Did you spike my drink?” I didn’t seriously think he had, but that whirlwind of panic was threatening more than hand tremors if I didn’t do something. I laid a hand over my churning stomach once more, pressing hard. Insecurity made me feel, well, more insecure. It was an emotion beyond my ability to handle.

  He sat bolt upright, jaw hanging. “What?”

  “I can’t remember seeing the band and I wake up with you on my couch. How did that happen?”

  He frowned for a second before he collected himself and scrubbed two hands across his face. Then he smiled at me as if I were Anna after she’d done something stupid. “So, Tobi,” he drawled, “this is how you cope with embarrassment?”

  My entire body froze in mortification. Nobody had ever seen through me so easily before. Suddenly I was vulnerable. And guilty. I wrapped my arms around my waist and steeled myself to look him in the eye.

  “I apologize, Simon. That was a rotten thing to accuse you of. I know you’re not capable of something like that.”

  He shrugged. “Apology accepted.” Then he yawned again.

  Annoyed with myself, I dropped down beside him on the couch. This whole situation was way outside my comfort zone, which, admittedly, was a pretty small place to start with.

  Simon scratched at his chest, moving the fabric of dark red T-shirt. “Do you normally pass out after one drink?”

  I drew my gaze from his torso to his eyes. “No, I never pass out. Never.” Passing out was even above sneezing and yawning in the embarrassing loss of bodily control stakes.

  He chuckled. “You may have to rethink your definition of ‘never’. Unless last night is outside the realms of never in your world.”

  I narrowed my eyes and gave him my best glare—the one that always works, but he just kept smiling at me. Didn’t he know people were usually scared of my glare?

  “Glaring at me won’t help, Tobi. We still don’t know why you passed out.”

  I crossed my legs. “I was having an impromptu nap.”

  “Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “We still don’t know why you were having an impromptu nap. In a noisy bar. During a conversation with me.”

  I uncrossed my legs again. “You probably shouldn’t mention that—it’s not so flattering to your conversation skills.”

  “Accusation and banter. Good coping skills.” He raised a cocky eyebrow. “I think you may have forgotten how you got out of the noisy bar and arrived home safe.”

  Actually, I had forgotten that—or more precisely, not thought of it in the first place. “Um, thank you,” I mumbled, trying to process the information.

  “Sorry—I missed that.” He cupped a hand over his ear and looked as innocent as Anna telling me bears had smashed her gnomes.

  I sucked in a breath and looked him in the eye. “Thank you for helping me out.”

  He cocked his head to the side. He looked pretty good for someone who’d just woken up after a night spent on my couch—not the most comfortable place to sleep for someone his height. His hair was ruffled and he needed a shave, but the look in his eyes was completely alert. Their midnight-blue seemed suited to this strange meeting in the middle of the night and I looked from one to the other quickly, trying to capture a memory. I had the feeling that if I looked too long, I’d want to dive in. Which would be bad.

  I refocused—I’d been staring like he was one of those magic 3D pictures—probably not a good look from his point of view. Which made me realize that he hadn’t said anything for a minute either—either he was thinking something nice about my eyes or I’d dribbled on my chin in my sleep. I rubbed my chin just in case and took the offensive.

  “What?”

  He yawned and stretched. Damn he looked good with flexed muscles. “I was just wondering why you have such a hard time accepting help. Even though you were out cold, you still don’t want to thank me for looking after you.”

  Okay, so he wasn’t thinking about my eyes—not that I cared at all. “For your information, I am thankful you were there, but even if you weren’t, I would have woken up after a while and everything would’ve been fine.”

  “Of course.” He nodded slowly. “Although, the fact that you didn’t wake up when I threw you over my shoulder and carried you to my car, buckled you in, got your license to double-check your address, drove you home, carried you to your door, leaned you against the door while I found your key in your bag, carried you to your bed, took your shoes off and put you in, does imply you wouldn’t have woken too soon at the bar.” He waited, looking pleased with the case he’d put forward.

  My hand flew to my mouth. “I slept through all that?”

  He nodded. “You did.”

  I’d been that out of it? “Oh, God, Simon … What if you hadn’t been there?” The enormity of the situation was dawning. “What if those men at the bar had been the ones to find me?” I shivered. “What if—”

  “Hey.” He looped an arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay. I was there.”

  I breathed in his musky scent and that sense of safety infused me again. “Yes, you were. Thank you.” For just a moment, I allowed an unmasked feeling to surface in my eyes—honest gratitude.

  “You’re welcome.” He seemed about to say something, then cleared his throat before continuing. “Which brings us back to why you … had an impromptu nap. When you fell asleep I called the Emergency Room and spoke to a nurse for some advice.”

  “What did you tell her?” I didn’t much like the idea of being talked about behind my back, even if I’d been unconscious, but there was something nice about Simon caring e
nough to call a medical professional for me.

  “I told her I was with a woman who’d passed out after one drink and she said to take you home and let you sleep it off. But you just said you never pass out.” His brow creased in concentration. “So, are you on any medication that could have reacted with the vodka?”

  I shook my head and reluctantly moved a few inches further down the couch, trying to create some sense of personal space—I needed control over something and my options here were limited. “No, nothing.”

  He adjusted his arm to lie along the back of the couch. “What about the antihistamines—don’t they make you drowsy?”

  I blew out an exasperated breath. “I’ve been taking them all my life—I know the difference between the ones that make you sleepy and the ones that don’t.”

  My usual brand would have definitely made me drowsy if I’d taken two, which was why I always had a packet of one of the new-fangled modern versions on hand.

  “You won’t mind then if I have a look at the box?” He stood and the blanket that’d been across his lap fell away to reveal that, in addition to the dark red T-shirt, he wore a pair of indigo blue boxers. Best not to stare. But, oh my, those thighs …

  I jumped up, grabbed the packet from the kitchen and handed it over with only a flicker of triumph.

  “You’re right.” Oh, how I love hearing those words. “But is this the packet your tablets last night came from?”

  There was a sinking feeling in the direction of my stomach as a fleeting memory returned, but I went to my bag and took out another box. The sinking feeling turned into a plunging dive-bomb when I couldn’t find the words “non-drowsy” on the label and saw my usual brand’s name emblazoned across the front. The room closed in around me as I hit the packet against my forehead.

  The box was gently taken from my hands. “Everyone slips up sometimes, Tobi. It’s no big deal.”

  In the absence of the packet, I thumped the heel of my hand to my head. “I took two of these last night—double the recommended dose. No wonder I fell asleep after mixing it with vodka.”