by BB Miller
An uneasy quiet has now settled over the home. I can’t help but feel like it’s the calm before the next shit storm. Judging by the death glares I’ve been getting from Zach, I think he’ll be glad to see me leave.
Aaron shakes his head. “Not a clue. One minute they were fine, changing the tire. I turn my back for five seconds, and Zach is practically jumping the bike to try to get Beck.”
“You think he was on anything?”
“You know I’d never let anyone in the garage who was high,” Aaron answers defensively. “And you saw him at dinner. He wasn’t on anything.”
Tom holds his hands up. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I had to ask. You know what Zach’s been doing.”
“You think it’s time to start thinking about—”
Tom leans forward in his chair. “Don’t finish that sentence, Aaron. I don’t give up on these kids, and neither do you. That’s what every single person has done to Zach and a million kids like him. Give up. We’re not doing that. Not now. Not ever.”
My heart tightens at the conviction of Tom’s words. He’s the reason I’m still here. The reason hundreds of other kids are, too. I’m not sure he even realizes the kind of effect his has on a kid who has lost everything.
“I know that. It’s just frustrating. Zach’s a smart kid. And he’s good with the bike, when he’s not being a pain in the ass,” Aaron admits. He leans back in the chair, raking his hands through his hair in annoyance.
“Then we keep working with him until he realizes that. No matter how long it takes.”
An hour of playing the bass has done nothing for my mood. I’ve been all over the map today. The time at the group home took me back to places I didn’t necessarily want to go. No matter how hard I try to bury that part of my life, it has a way of sneaking back in. Seeing those kids today, knowing their struggles are similar to what mine were or worse, tears my heart out.
And there, throughout the day, running a constant circuit through my brain is Tess. She’s the one I want to talk to, and I’m annoyed that she’s in San Diego while the clock ticks away.
Abandoning the guitar, I stare at the phone taunting me from the coffee table. I’m ready to cave, but it turns out I don’t have to. The chime of a new text coming in brings an immediate smile to my face.
Cardinal: I got off in the shower thinking of you this morning. How was your day?
Tessa
I wait nervously for his reply, curling my legs up under me in the armchair. The quiet of my hotel room is a welcome respite after a day of constant motion.
Abigail’s face was a picture of shock and excitement this morning when Kennedy greeted us on the tarmac. April and I had driven her to the airport under the guise of all three of us coming to San Diego. She abandoned her responsibility surprisingly fast, however, when Kennedy presented her with a not-to-be-refused offer of four days on a mystery island.
After seeing her off, April and I had just enough time to make our own flight. San Diego always seems even more sprawling than LA to me. It took forever to get to our first meeting, and then it was nonstop from there. It all went well, and I’m elated that my first efforts as giving director have been so successful. We’ve secured dream fulfillments for three deserving children, and the knowledge I’m able to help is both humbling and rewarding. The best part will be when we see the hope and excitement in those little faces when they receive their hearts’ desires, just like we saw in Parker’s face. It’s the reason I love working for What’s Your Dream.
April was ecstatic when we got back to the hotel. We went over her ideas for promotion and toasted our good deeds at the bar downstairs until the awkward attentions of a group of businessmen drove us to our rooms. Before Matt burst into my life, I might have considered one of their invitations for a cozy drink, but now . . . I could barely muster up a polite smile as we fled, which is vaguely troubling. What’s more troubling is that even with all the activity today, he hasn’t been far from my thoughts. The sight of him making himself at home in my kitchen, his beautifully decorated skin and muscular arms on full display, has haunted me all day. He moved with an unconscious grace that rendered me speechless. Then he denied me! I mean, what am I supposed to think? No one turns down shower sex, especially in such an incredibly sweet and considerate way. He comes over in the dead of night—breaking into the building, mind you—just so he can dazzle me with his pancake-making skills and gallantry the next morning?
Nibbling on my thumbnail, I stare at my phone, willing him to answer me. I have a few more things to review tonight, but I couldn’t help myself—I had to text him. Actually, I wanted to hear his voice, but I chickened out. I thought I had Matt all figured out. I succumbed to his hotness after the concert, we had some fun, and that was supposed to be that. I was going to recover my dignity and move on. Instead, he wriggled under my defenses with caring words and gestures that I never saw coming. Oh, and let’s not forget the reminder of just how hot sex with him can be.
My phone chimes and I grab it eagerly, only to laugh when I see a photo of a white sand beach with the message, “Thank you, girls! I’m having a mojito in your honor.” I smile fondly, remembering Abby’s flustered eagerness this morning. She and Kennedy are clearly nuts about each other. It’s wonderful to see. If anyone deserves the love of a good man, it’s Abby. And the sheer adoration in Kennedy’s eyes when he looks at her . . . I swoon a little on my boss’s behalf. It’s a wonder she doesn’t turn into a pile of goo every time they’re together.
It shocks me when I realize that I’ve seen a glimmer of the same thing in the eyes of a certain bassist. A frisson of fear and excitement runs through me. I feel like I’m on the upward slope of a roller coaster, just before cresting the apex and plunging to . . .
Ding! I jerk at the sound of my phone chiming.
Matt: Nothing about my day could compete with that image. Except maybe seeing you in my arms this morning.
I blink at the phone in surprise and then groan, feeling another chink in my armor open. Where does he come up with swoon-worthy stuff like that?
I’ll take your word for it.
Matt: You should. When do you get back? Flight #?
I smirk, and quickly send my travel details, along with a question about what he has planned.
Matt: Not sure yet, but I only have one night left to spend with you before I have to leave. I don’t want to waste it.
Every muscle in my body clenches with anticipation.
Sounds promising.
Matt: Well, I aim to please.
Pleasing me didn’t seem like a problem for him, at least in one respect. Closing my eyes, I shiver as I recall the intensity of his blue-eyed gaze as he peeled my clothes off in his loft. It felt like he could see right through me, which was as disconcerting as it was intriguing.
We’ll see. Don’t get too cocky, mister.
Matt: I think I like that. You should call me Mr. Logan all the time.
I snort out a laugh as my fingers fly over my phone.
Don’t tell me you’re one of those kinky bastards that like riding crops, handcuffs, and making women call you ‘Sir.’
I can’t help but squirm at the thought of Matt and me in his bed, naked, with a couple of silk scarves. There’s a long enough pause in his reply to make me nervous I’ve gone too far.
Matt: Jesus, woman. You should come with a warning label. I just sprayed beer all over my couch.
I burst out laughing at the thought of him having to mop up; I also can’t believe he actually admitted it.
You’ll live, I’m sure.
Matt: I will, but my Rickenbacker might not. It’s soaked.
Okay, now I feel a little guilty.
Matt: You should. It’s one of my favorites. I know how you can make it up to me, though.
Smirking, I let my fingers fly, not willing to let him win this round.
I said I only felt a little guilty . . . and it’s passed now. Missed your chance.
Matt: I hope not.
My breath catches, and I stare at the phone that suddenly weighs heavy in my hand. As unbelievable as it seems, Matt has been clear about what he wants, and I know his words mean more than our playful banter. What the hell am I thinking? I’m finally considering a serious relationship for the first time, and I choose a world-famous manwhore?
Shaking my head at myself, I quickly type out a response.
Time will tell. I need to finish up a few things here before I hit the sack. I’ll call you when I’m back or something. Okay?
Matt: Or something. See you tomorrow. Oh, and Tess?
Yes?
Matt: I’ll never turn down a shower with you again.
“What is going on with you today?” April asks in exasperation as I almost topple a little old man with my carry-on. I apologize profusely, but he mutters something in German and walks away scowling. I can’t blame him. He’s the second person I’ve accidently smacked with my bag.
“Just a little distracted, I guess.” I shrug, trying to ignore her piercing gaze.
“Distracted. Right,” she scoffs, and cocks her head at me. “Your distraction doesn’t have anything to do with a certain tattooed musician, does it?”
I gape at her. “What?” I answer dumbly, and she smirks triumphantly.
“Please. I have eyes, you know. The way you two were going at each other during Parker’s concert prep, it was only a matter of time.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I hitch my bag strap higher on my shoulder and try to look unconcerned, but she laughs softly.
“I also have a snitch that tells me you had an office visitor a couple days ago.”
I narrow my eyes. “Jeff.” That weasel. There’ll be no coffee dates for him now.
“Among others.” She smiles fondly at me as we weave our way through the throng. “Tessa, don’t worry about it. If it can work for Abby, why wouldn’t it work for you?”
“It’s not like that,” I huff. “We’re just having some fun.”
She nods thoughtfully. “And that’s okay. It’s equally okay if it turns out to be more.”
“It’s complicated.”
“No doubt.” She gently bumps her shoulder to mine. “Don’t sweat it. Enjoy it and see what happens. You know that Abby won’t mind; hell, she’ll be ecstatic for you. You two can commiserate when Redfall hits the tour again.”
My stomach flutters nervously at the reminder. He’ll be gone for three weeks. Plenty of time for him to sow a few oats, plenty of women willing to help him.
My phone rings, and April tells me to go ahead while she retrieves the bag she’d checked from the baggage carousel. Stepping into an out-of-the-way corner, I answer.
“Mom?”
“Tessa! Sweetie, are you sure you can’t join us at your brother’s on Christmas? Your dad said he’d get your ticket for you.”
I stifle a groan. My brother’s wife can’t travel until after the birth of my newest nephew, so my parents and Rachel are flying to Seattle. They aren’t leaving until Christmas morning so we can have dinner together Christmas Eve. “I can afford my own ticket, Mom. But I can’t afford to take that much time off right now. You know I just got that promotion, and there’s a ton of stuff that’s just been sitting since Nadia left.”
“You work too hard,” she grumbles, but continues before I can say anything. “All right. We’ll see you this Sunday for lunch, yes?”
“Yes, Momma,” I reply patiently. “I’ll be there.” Which means I won’t need to eat for three days afterward; for my mom, there’s no “off” switch in the amount of food she prepares for holidays or when guests are over. If he didn’t stick to his military workouts, my dad would look like a small mountain.
“Wonderful! Well, Ms. Fonk is coming over for a fitting, so I have to get ready. And Tessa, as much as I wish you could join us in Seattle, I am proud of you, dear,” she states, and I can almost hear her smile.
“Thanks, Momma.” April is returning with her bag in hand, so I say my goodbyes to my mother and quickly tuck my phone away. We make our way to the taxi lane, and my mouth drops open. Parked at the end of the lane is the shiny black Camaro with Matt standing tall next to it. You could knock me over with a feather.
April laughs next to me. “Go on,” she says, nudging me to life. “It’s too late to get much more done at the office today anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
In a daze, I walk down to where he’s waiting, a smug smirk spread across his face. “I thought I’d save you from the fucking taxi surcharges and give you a lift.” He reaches out and takes my bag from me, snapping me out of my haze. He’s right—the exorbitant cab tax surcharges in our fair city are outrageous.
“Well, since you’ve offered.” I give him a mocking curtsy and he shifts, as if to hug me, but casts a wary gaze at the people swirling around, some of whom are beginning to gawk. Instead, he helps me in the car, and within minutes we’re speeding toward town.
“Do you have to go back to work?” he asks, shooting me an indecipherable look. I shake my head.
“Nope. I’m free for the night.”
“Good.” He hums in satisfaction and takes my hand, twining our fingers together. It’s an intimate gesture that sends shock waves through me.
“I thought we’d get some drinks and a little dinner and go back to my place.” He shoots me a playful look. “I don’t have a nosy roommate.”
Uh-oh. “What did Jada say to you? She only told me she’d met you and to warn her next time when a shirtless man was likely to be making breakfast.” She’d also said that he was fuck-hot, but I don’t see a reason to inflate his ego any further.
“Not much.” He changes lanes and glances over at me. “She seems a little protective.”
“Her bark is worse than her bite.” I squeeze his hand, but he doesn’t look convinced.
“Hmmm. So, what are you in the mood for? Mexican again? Italian?”
A weird feeling hits me; it feels surreal to be sitting here with him, having a normal conversation about normal things like a normal couple. I’m not even sure we’re a couple yet. Is this what’s ahead? Picking each other up from the airport, going home for dinner, and housework, and pets, and mortgages, and taking out the trash?
“I don’t understand what you’re doing with me,” I blurt and am instantly irritated with myself. I hate sounding needy, because I’m not. But I’m honestly confused. Based on what I overheard Cameron and Sean talking about during the concert, it sounds like Matt loves life on the road. He’s had women all over the world—twice—and I know how voracious his appetite is from personal experience. Why would he want to settle for just one? Because if he was with me, it would be only me—or he’d find himself with one of his guitars permanently implanted in a piece of his anatomy designed for exits only.
“Well, let me see.” He rubs his chin with mock seriousness. “Besides being one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen, you’re smart, loyal, and kind. I saw how you worked with those kids who attended Parker’s concert; you care, Tess. That kind of compassion can’t be faked. You love your job and you’re committed to helping them. Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”
“Yes, yes, I’m awesome,” I snap with a dismissive wave of my hand, barely able to refrain from rolling my eyes. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He frowns and pins me with a steely gaze. “Why is it so hard to believe that I’d want you? Yes, I’m no angel. I’ve never claimed to be one. But is it that hard to believe that I want something real?”
Night has already fallen and the city lights twinkle as Matt navigates the city streets toward the embarcadero. We come to a stop at a red light, and I gasp when he slips a hand around my head and pulls me in for a fierce kiss that leaves me panting. “And you, Tessa Baker, are the most real woman I’ve ever met.”
Real, huh. My heart beats a little faster, recognizing the sincerity in his voice, and I feel myself melt a little. I look at him thoughtfully, wondering just how much
reality he can handle. “When do you get back from the tour?”
He blinks at my sudden switch of topic. “Um, I’ll have to check. Why?”
“How would you like to have dinner with me and my family on Christmas Eve?”
Matt
MY GRIP TIGHTENS around the steering wheel at the words Christmas and family. Two things I’m not all that experienced with. I push the Camaro harder, hearing the engine purr in response, and feeling the tension in my jaw ratchet up a notch. “Christmas Eve, hmm?”
“Yes!” I steal a quick glance at her and it ties me up in knots as usual. Seeing her in the crowd outside the airport almost made me speechless. The sight of her long black hair a little messed from the flight, and her plump lips parted in disbelief when she saw me, will stay with me for a long time. The knowledge that I’m leaving in what could be the worst-timed concert tour in history only seems to add to my amped-up state. The things I want to do to and with Tess can’t begin to be covered in a twenty-four-hour period.
“It’s a tradition! We all have dinner, and my mom makes enough to feed a small army, which I guess we kind of are in a way. Dad makes this candy cane hot chocolate that is amazing, although now it’s not kid friendly. I think he puts more booze in it than anything.” I smile at her rambling.
“Sounds pretty cozy.”
Leaning back against the seat, she lets out a happy sigh. “It is. What’s your favorite Christmas tradition?”
An unwelcome pain in my chest joins my immediate frown, an awkward silence greeting her question. Slipping into the passing lane, I weave through the traffic like a man possessed. She would have to ask about the one thing I hate most to talk about. I’m reminded again of my fucked-up past and just how different Tess and I are. “I guess it would be the first year I was with Tom. Everything before that is not worth talking about.” My voice sounds rough, clipped, and a little angry.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”