Love Me Two Times (Rock Royalty Book 8)

by Christie Ridgway

  His head started to pound, but not the usual residual ache from the old concussion, but the kind of discomfort that came from trying to hold two competing ideas in one’s mind at the same time. It made his gut roil, and he needed water to get rid of the cotton in his mouth.

  As he backed toward the opening that led to the kitchen, he didn’t take his eyes off the child. She played with the items in the toy basket, chattering away, and when he realized he was smiling despite the pain, he whirled around and strode for the sink.

  A glass. Cold water. He drank the first down, filled a second. But instead of drinking it, he stared out through the kitchen window. In the distance he could see the top of the trees at the compound. In his head he heard the sound of the non-stop parties—raucous laughter, loud rock music, men shouting for more booze or drugs or women.

  Then it was the old memory again, the child’s laughter as he chased her, the squeal of tires and screech of the brakes, the blasted, sick silence, then the shouts, the yelling, the recrimination, the guilt.

  What the fuck? What the fuck, you stupid little shit? How did you let this happen? How could you have been so damn careless?

  But even as that played and replayed in his head, a sudden, new awareness broke through. A different quiet.

  An intuition he didn’t know existed inside himself had him whirling around, her name on his lips. “Soul?”

  His heart seized. She stood just a few feet away, by the kitchen table, her hair, face, and shoulders covered in red.

  How did you let this happen? How could you have been so damn careless?

  “Soul!” he shouted, leaping forward to snatch her up. Where was she hurt? Had he killed her? But she shrieked and wriggled and then began to cry as too late he realized she was unharmed.

  Unharmed and covered in nothing more dangerous than strawberry JELL-O powder.

  Chapter 8

  Jewel handed Cilla the gift-wrapped parcel as she crossed the threshold of the other woman’s Pacific Palisades home.

  “Happy housewarming,” she said, looking about the spacious entry and sun-washed living room. “This is lovely.”

  “Thank you.” Cilla tickled Soul’s tummy, and the baby giggled. “So are both of you.”

  “This is our first attempt at an actual hair ‘style,’” Jewel said. Her daughter’s curls were now long enough to bring together in a little fountain on the top of her head that she’d bound with a yellow ribbon to match her dress and leggings.

  “It looks adorable,” Cilla said, then lifted the present she’d been given and shook it. “Hmm. No noise. Can I open it?”

  Amused at her eagerness, Jewel laughed. “Sure. You must be terrible at Christmas and birthdays.”

  “I wheedle. I whine,” Cilla acknowledged without a shred of shame and tore off the paper. “Oh, Jewel. Did you paint this? It’s wonderful.”

  “I don’t pick up a brush very often, but I thought you might enjoy it.” The small framed watercolor depicted a beach and ocean scene with a pier and Ferris wheel in the far distance.

  “Santa Monica?” Cilla asked.

  “Yep.”

  “I’m going to put it right here.” She propped it on a nearby credenza, beside a photograph of about the same size.

  “Oh,” Jewel said, coming forward to study the picture. “You guys as kids.”

  “I love how it captures so much about us. Cami and I leaning on Gwen. My brothers practicing for Wrestlemania.”

  “Ren looks like a real rebel without a cause,” Jewel mused.

  “And Beck appears to be contemplating the four corners of the earth he plans to visit.”

  Yes. His remote expression and cool gaze spoke of a young man with other places to be. Feeling a little chill, she hitched Soul closer. “So am I here first or—” She broke off at a sudden burst of female laughter from another room.

  “You are near to the last,” Cilla said. “Follow me.”

  Jewel cleared her throat. “Where’s the, uh, host?”

  Cilla paused. “He and the other guys have made up some convoluted game they’re playing on the putting green out back.”

  “Ren golfs?”

  “I know, huh?” Cilla grinned. “He’s so not the country club type. Can you see him prowling around eighteen holes in his motorcycle boots?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Me neither. But Payne and Walsh brought over some putters this afternoon, and then the Rock Royalty competitive streak kicked in.”

  “So they’re, um, all here.”

  Turning to face Jewel fully, Cilla cast her a knowing glance. “You mean Beck?”

  Jewel fussed with the hem of her daughter’s dress, not meeting her friend’s eyes. “I wanted to thank him for watching Soul a couple of days ago.”

  “Whoa.” Cilla put her hand to her chest. “He babysat?”

  “Not exactly. Grandma was home, but napping. I got a call asking me to check on my storage unit ASAP—apparently there was an attempted break-in—”

  “A break-in? What?”

  “It’s not the most secure facility, I admit.”

  “Was anything taken?”

  Jewel shook her head. “The thief only managed to mess with the lock. But now I have to move my all my boxes to a different unit.”

  “Okay. So you got that call…”

  “And Beck was there when I answered. He said he’d listen for the baby—she was napping, too—while I was gone.”

  “I’m still surprised.”

  “I think he got one too. When I returned home, Grandma was up, and told me that Soul had woken on his watch and while he had her she managed to cover herself in JELL-O powder.”

  Cilla laughed. “To be a fly on that wall.”

  “You should see the state of the kitchen towels that he used to clean her up.” Jewel laughed a little too, though Grandma said he’d seemed quite upset by the mishap, even when she tried to assure him that toddlers got into stuff in the blink of an eye. To reassure him, she’d even demonstrated the baby-proof locks on the cabinets and drawers that kept her from anything dangerous.

  Now Jewel wanted to reassure him too, and then get them back on a firm and friendly footing, something best done in the presence of others. No “experiments” when the rest of the Rock Royalty were looking on.

  Cilla’s smile dropped away. “You could have told me. About Soul.”

  Jewel’s pulse jittered. “Oh. He…he said?”

  “Everybody knows now that he’s her father.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “No, no. No one’s mad. We just wish we could have known sooner in order to help you out.”

  Jewel’s arms tightened around her baby “I’m used to doing things for myself. I’m doing fine as Soul’s mother.”

  “Of course you are.” Cilla patted her shoulder. “It’s just—”

  “It didn’t seem right to tell you or anyone else when I couldn’t tell him,” Jewel confessed. “And he was missing.”

  “But then when I told you he’d re-surfaced, you didn’t ask me for his contact information.”

  “I don’t know why I didn’t.” A lie. She’d worried that in telling him about the baby she’d somehow also let slip how much she’d missed him when he’d walked away.

  Maybe Cilla saw that truth on her face. “Never mind,” she said, then patted her shoulder again. “But just know that this time when he leaves, you won’t be alone.”

  Then she led the way into the kitchen, where women were ranged on stools around the long center island. They all looked up as the trio entered, and immediately Cleo and Honey slid off their seats.

  “There you are,” Honey said.

  “We’ve been on pins and needles,” Cleo added, then held out her arms toward Soul. “The aunties are anxious to claim their new niece.”

  Soul, always gregarious, went to the other woman happily enough and smiled and flirted as she was passed around and admired. Then Eli and Obie, Cleo’s small sons, came in from outside, and Soul be
came even more animated, looking at the boys from beneath her lashes and babbling as if she was at a baby cocktail party.

  Reed, Beck’s youngest brother, arrived on scene next and gave Jewel a grin. “Hey, there. Welcome to the family.”

  “I…thank you.”

  His gaze moved to Soul, once again tucked in Cleo’s arms. “And hi to you, little chicken,” he said, approaching her with another smile. He tugged on her topknot. “I’m Uncle Reed.”

  Cleo glanced up at him. “Reed,” she breathed, “isn’t she beautiful?”

  He touched his fiancée’s cheek. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Do you think…” Her eyes were shining, and the two seemed to communicate for a moment without words.

  His smile deepened. “Whatever you want,” he said quietly. “Whenever you want it.”

  Jewel’s heart ached at the sweetness of their casual intimacy. Cleo had found a devoted man, and he looked as happy as could be with his big hands resting on each of her sons’ shoulders. It wasn’t envy, she told herself, that flipped her stomach. But gladness for them all to have found something so solid.

  “I think there might be another Hopkins baby sooner than later,” Cilla whispered in Jewel’s ear. Then she raised her voice. “Who wants to help make a salad?”

  In the activity that ensued, Jewel only caught glimpses of Beck. She saw him moving chairs around the long table on the patio, she heard him laugh when Walsh threw out a teasing insult, she smelled his signature Essence de Beck when he passed through the kitchen to grab another beer.

  He seemed to be avoiding her and Soul, even to the point of seating himself at the “little table” with Eli and Obie when it came time to eat. Cami’s Eamon took one of the other chairs there, so maybe it was merely a coincidence. Still, Jewel couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him while she held Soul on her lap and fed her daughter small bites of cantaloupe and chicken breast.

  Cami, on Jewel’s right, passed over a juicy piece of watermelon for the baby. “Who knew you could be so secretive,” she began conversationally.

  Jewel made a face. “I’m sorry. Are you mad?”

  “No. I get it.” She patted her shoulder. “Truly.”

  “You’ve all be so nice to me.” Jewel had become friendly with Cilla first, and then the other women associated with the Rock Royalty had taken her into their fold. “I hope you don’t think—”

  “We only think that we’re excited to have a little girl to spoil,” Cami assured her. “I hope you realize that even those of us not related by blood to Beck consider her our niece, and the both of you now official members of our tribe.”

  Touched, Jewel smiled at the other woman. Gaining a real place in their group wasn’t something she’d considered before and now it sounded…amazing.

  “We’ll be awfully grateful for that,” she said, warmth flooding her.

  “And don’t forget, when Beck goes, we’ll still be here for you.”

  Jewel didn’t let her smile die, but at the second reminder of his imminent leave-taking, something inside her did. Everybody accepted he wasn’t going to stay.

  An idea she hadn’t realized until now that she’d been resisting—at least on some level. In the secret core of her heart.

  The rest of the afternoon passed with conversation and laughter and no chance to talk to Beck. Obviously, he was continuing to keep clear of her and she let that pass, perching on an ottoman to watch her daughter play on the living room rug with the toys the little boys had pulled from the credenza. Cilla stored blocks and cars and a small train set there, and as Obie tugged out some track, a manila envelope fell off a higher shelf, spilling two small photos.

  He picked them up, one in each hand. “Auntie Cilla,” he called to the woman curled on one end of a long couch. “Why do you have pictures of Soul?”

  Jewel stood to take a look at them, but paused when Beck and his two brothers ambled into the room. It was the closest she’d been to him all day, and she tried to pretend that the small hairs on her body weren’t rising to attention, that the back of her neck wasn’t heating, that she couldn’t remember the way he’d touched her.

  Tasted her.

  His gaze swept over her, causing her skin to prickle and her muscles to tense. Suddenly, it was imperative she escape his presence. She looked around the room and remembered she’d put her purse and baby bag at the foot of the hall tree in the nearby foyer. Spying them, she felt her initial spurt of panic ease. But she still wanted out.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said to no one in particular. “It’s time to get Soul home.”

  “Really?” Cilla said, rising too. “Just a minute, Ollie,” she said to the little boy.

  Jewel scooped up Soul and then moved to the exit. “Thank you so much, Cilla,” she said as the other woman followed her toward the front door. “We’ve had a wonderful time.”

  “Wait up,” Walsh said, striding forward with his younger brother on his heels. “Can Reed and I have a word with you, Jewel?”

  “Uh-oh.” Cilla’s brows rose. “You two look solemn.”

  “It’s nothing like that.” Walsh ruffled the youngest Rock Royalty princess’s hair over her peeved protest. “We just want to make sure Jewel knows to call on us if there’s anything she needs.”

  “That’s such a nice offer. Thank you.” She glanced around their broad shoulders to see Beck standing halfway across the room, advising Eli on his train build. “But I’ll be fine.”

  “Anything,” Walsh said again. “Between us we have expertise or know people who can do anything you require. You’re like a sister to us now, and we take those bonds seriously these days.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  Reed reached out to chuck Soul under the chin. “Cleo wants you to know we’d love to have a shot at babysitting your little chicken, any time. You just say the word. Eli and Obie have volunteered to be her video games mentors.”

  That made Jewel laugh. “They may have to wait a while for that.”

  Now Walsh drew a finger over Soul’s cheek. With her head on Jewel’s shoulder, she sent him a sleepy smile. “Sweet,” he said, smiling back. Then his gaze shifted to Jewel once again. “How are things for you financially? We can help there too.”

  She felt her face heat. “I’m good. Fine.”

  “Beck has plenty of money, by the way. He should be supporting his daughter.”

  “He’s on it,” she said. “I didn’t ask, but he…he’s being insistent.”

  “And you know we’ll be here for you when Beck’s gone.”

  “Yes.” Why did everyone keep saying that? “I appreciate it.”

  “Good.” Walsh nodded. “Is there anything else?”

  “Maybe you could apply your big brawny muscles,” Cilla offered. “Somebody tried to break into her storage unit, and she needs to move all her stuff to a different one.”

  Over Cilla’s shoulder, Jewel noted Beck’s body had stiffened. Was he listening? “All’s good,” she hastily assured his brothers. “I don’t need help moving. There’s not all that much.”

  Reed frowned. “A break-in doesn’t sound good. What happened?”

  “The people who run the place don’t really know.”

  His frown deepened. “Are you sure you don’t want us to—”

  “I’ve got it…and I’ve also got to go,” she said quickly. Beck had turned and was watching their little tableau with an intensity that made her belly flutter. “Thanks for everything.” Swift kisses on the cheek for Cilla and the two men and then she was out the door, breathing in gulps of air.

  Whew. She’d made it. Saved from having that conversation she’d intended when she’d arrived at the party. But with all the talk of his leaving, she was right to avoid it. There was a danger that in that conversation she might say the wrong thing to him.

  Like please.

  Please come back.

  To your daughter.

  Please come back to me.

  The morning after Cilla and Ren’s housewa
rming party, Beck walked down the narrow shaded street from the compound to the home housing three generations of Malone females. He didn’t know why the hell he was going there again, but he couldn’t stay away.

  As he approached, he noted that big-ass, near-ancient Cadillac in the driveway. Then the front door of the rambler opened and two elderly ladies emerged—Alison Malone, and her crony Doris. Behind them came the smarmy blond dude, Gavin, and behind him strolled Jewel, baby Soul on her hip.

  The last pair captured his attention. The child wore another soft-looking dress in what had to be T-shirt cotton, this one apricot-colored with ruffles at the hem. More matching cotton knit covered her legs, and there were tiny lace-up shoes on her feet. Instead of the funny little spray of hair at the top of her head like the day before, today she wore a stretchy band decorated with a fabric rose.

  Her mother was only more beautiful, in tight jeans and a lacy tank top with skinny straps. He didn’t see signs of a bra, and he looked.

  Of course he did.

  As if she sensed his scrutiny, Jewel’s head jerked up.

  He didn’t bother waving as he sauntered up to the group now approaching the Cadillac. Then Soul did. With a smile that displayed all four teeth, she moved her fingers and thumb together, in a duck bill motion.

  It…did something to his gut. A poke, a twist, a strangely pleasurable pain.

  Then she did it again, and he was forced to clear his throat, attracting everyone’s attention. “Hey, kid,” he managed to get out as they turned to him. “Good morning to you all.”

  Casual greetings were exchanged. “You ladies going somewhere?” Beck asked.

  “To see the collection of jewelry Nicky Aston bestowed on his many and various lovers,” Doris remarked, pressing her palms together in obvious anticipation.

  “Nicky Aston the silent film star?”

  Doris’s beamed at him. “You know of him?”

  He slid Jewel a bland glance. “Doesn’t everyone? But I thought you already visited that exhibit.”