by Shayla Black
“No. It’s just…”
“Something you always do. I’ll turn off the lights, too. I can handle it. Honestly.”
“I have to clean up the kitchen.” She glanced back at the messy space. Usually she cleaned up after herself as she cooked. This morning, she’d been too flipping tired. A night with Jamie was enough to wear out any girl, but especially one who rose at the ass crack of dawn for work.
“Go shower and eat something. It’ll sit until you’ve rested.” Jamie assured, then turned his attention back to Hayden.
Suddenly, she got it. He wanted to put her ex in his place, man to man. Bristol bit at her lip. She should tell Jamie that she could fight her own battles because she could. But the idea of a shower, a meal, and a way to avoid her ex were too much to pass up. Besides, she had the feeling he would only keep insisting.
“Sure.” She smiled. “Thanks.”
“Don’t do this,” Hayden protested. “ You’re making a big mistake. Talk to me.”
“You let me go, so it’s my mistake to make. Bye.”
After a sarcastic smile and a wave, Bristol turned toward the back of the shop and headed for the stairs, feeling as if Jamie had lifted an enormous weight from her shoulders—at least for now. Come Wednesday, she’d be alone again, and Jamie would have moved on. But today, he could chase Hayden off, lock her door against the little insect, and hold her tight.
It wasn’t romance, she assured herself. But it felt pretty damn good.
* * * *
Jesse heard Bristol’s footfalls fade as she headed upstairs. When the door closed, he turned to Hayden with a blistering glare. “Leave her the fuck alone.”
“Or what? You’re not going to stay. And I’ll still be around.”
Hayden had him there. Jesse knew he couldn’t remain indefinitely, even if sharing a bed—hell, a kiss—with Bristol was one of the most singular pleasures he’d ever experienced. For a well-seasoned hedonist, that was saying something. Still, her ex was trouble, and Jesse was determined to make sure that the asshole gave Bristol a wide berth even after he was gone.
“Are you nothing but an entitled tool who thinks you should have everything you want, and fuck everyone else?”
The scrawny guy reared back as if the question shocked him—or slapped him across the face. “What does that mean?”
“I used to be one, so I know all the earmarks,” Jesse assured. “Why else would you pursue Bristol if it’s only going to hurt her? You left her. Now she doesn’t want you anymore. Obviously, that makes you feel lousy, but no one gives a shit about your pride. And young, naive Presleigh would be crushed if she had any idea you were here, sniffing around her older sister. You either care about your fiancée enough to be faithful or you’re not ready for marriage.”
Listen to me being all wise and shit…
“It’s none of your business,” Hayden shot back. “You might have spent last night with Bristol, but you don’t care about her.”
“And you do?” he challenged. “If you could dump her for her sister, then come back looking to get laid, I don’t think you care at all.”
Hayden managed to look indignant. “I came to check on her, not for sex.”
“But you wouldn’t turn it down, would you?”
“I-I wasn’t thinking that. I…”
Hayden’s seemingly perplexed expression was bullshit and told Jesse that sex with Bristol might not have been bobbing on the top of her ex’s frontal lobe, but it had been swimming somewhere in his brainpan.
“The hell you weren’t.”
“You don’t know me,” Hayden finally snarled. “Fuck you.”
With that, he turned and pushed out the door. The bell rang with shrill violence. The heavy glass slammed behind him.
“Good riddance,” Jesse murmured, locking up and killing the lights before flipping the sign on the door to read CLOSED.
But the asshole brought up some really good points, namely that in a few days, Jesse would be gone. Right now, he didn’t dig the thought of leaving Bristol behind. Kimber was the only woman he’d felt any actual emotion for in the past, and at the time he hadn’t cared enough about her—or himself—to fly right. The punk he’d been years ago would probably have related to Hayden’s dilemma, still being hot for one girl while engaged to another. In fact, Jesse vividly remembered the night he’d been in that position. He’d chosen wrong, siding with booze and easy ass, rather than love or respect. The decision had haunted him ever since because he knew he’d fucked up and hurt someone special. He refused to let Hayden do the same to Bristol.
While pondering ways to make the prick keep his distance, Jesse’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it free and saw Candia’s contact pop up on the display. A quick glance told him he was still alone in the little bakery.
He pulled up a bistro chair and answered. “Hey.”
“Where are you?” She sounded frazzled.
“Did you already figure it out?” Had someone at the restaurant last night recognized him after all?
“No. You’re so quiet it’s eerie.”
With a grin, Jesse leaned back. “Told you I wouldn’t fuck it up.”
“I’m actually impressed. It’s a good thing you disappeared for a while.”
“So things are still ugly? Why aren’t the police releasing details?”
She sighed, and he heard her exhaustion. “The investigation is still ongoing. The fact that Maddy Harris died in your hotel room was bad enough. Now I’ve learned that she’d helped herself to the T-shirt you wore at that night’s concert. She was wearing it when she died.”
“Oh, shit.” He could only imagine what the press were saying about that.
“Exactly. An anonymous source leaked pictures of her body at the scene. I’m betting on a cop looking to make a quick buck. Then some Photoshopping genius positioned an image of you singing that night and her lying dead in the same fucking shirt side by side. It’s circulating all over social media. ET and Huff Post aren’t exactly being kind in their speculation, either. But I have no doubt it’s helping their numbers.” She paused. “Ryan’s funeral is scheduled for Tuesday morning in Shreveport. His next of kin was his great aunt. She lives there.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Until the police conclude this investigation and some time goes by, I’m not sure you should do anything but lay low.”
“I won’t miss his services, Candia. If I did, I’d look like an unfeeling prick. And I need to say good-bye. He might have had his flaws, but he was my friend.” He shook his head and struggled against tears. “I wish to fuck I’d been able to save him.”
The rock star life looked like good-time glitz to outsiders. Living it was something else completely. Different countries, different hotel rooms, transient “friends.” Jesse’s schedule was never his. Indulging in his goofy side wasn’t good for the badass sex-god image he’d cultivated over the years. Yeah, it sold albums, but he never quite relaxed. Music critics and a changing industry complicated everything. And the really suck-ass part was the paparazzi hovering, just waiting to snap pictures if the temptation to dive into the ever-present girls, booze, and drugs ever became too much to resist. Not for one minute did he forget that virtually everyone around him was making a buck off his vocal cords. If he lost his voice or died tomorrow, his fans would care. But would any of the people he saw day in and day out give two shits?
Not so much. Candia was the closest thing he had to a friend now, and she was a career woman first and always. If she didn’t have him, she’d mourn for thirty seconds, then pick up the phone and schmooze multiple job offers before choosing one and moving on.
No wonder he’d really enjoyed his time with Bristol. She didn’t expect him to be sexy or perfect or charming or anything except nice. And while he suspected she was a tad gun-shy after Hayden, she had opened up to him and shared parts of herself, like the fact that she was named after her dad’s Connecticut hometown and that she watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer rer
uns whenever she caught one on TV.
“Ryan made his choices,” she murmured, her voice heavy.
Jesse gritted his teeth. “When he was so high, he barely knew his own damn name.”
“Sorry. I know he’d been a part of your band for years and you used to be tight.” She hesitated.
Tight? They’d shared both women and parties for years. Nothing more intimate than drinking out of the same bottle while both balls deep in the same chick. He and Ryan had grown apart after Jesse had stuck with his decision to stay sober, but that didn’t mean he’d cared about the guy less.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“Maddy’s funeral is that afternoon in Round Rock.”
He winced. What a tragic waste. Sixteen was way too young to die.
“Did you get a hold of her parents?”
“I did. They don’t want anything to do with you, your apologies, or your money. And they definitely don’t want you showing up to their daughter’s funeral and turning it into a media circus. They want to grieve in peace. They don’t blame you for what happened. Apparently, Maddy had been through some trouble with drugs in the past. But they don’t want you or any token of yours around as a reminder of all they’ve lost. If you really want to make a gesture of some sort, I think your best option is to start a scholarship fund in her name or shoot an anti-drug PSA.”
That would cost him almost nothing. Jesse wished the girl’s parents had been more demanding…but forcing them to take from him would only serve to make himself feel better. “Done. Set it all up.”
“Will do. Beyond that, I’m still thinking about your image and how to rehab it. Give me time.” She sighed. “So where did you go after you dropped me off at the airport?”
Jesse described his road trip to see Kimber. “But I couldn’t intrude on their domestic scene any longer, so I split. They won’t tell anyone. Kimber understands the pressure, and Deke just wants me gone.” He shifted in his seat. “After that, I went back to the hotel and grabbed my bike off the equipment truck, then took off. I pulled over to sleep at a park off the road. Then I rolled into Texarkana and found an old-school barbershop. No one in there was under seventy, so I doubt they had any idea who I am. I’d already rented a craptastic motel room and shaved. I’d taken out my earrings and slid into the jeans and a comfortable tank I keep in the saddlebag. They cut my hair without blinking. Now I’m a new man.”
“So you’re in Texarkana?” Candia didn’t sound thrilled, and he heard her tapping on her keyboard. “Because someone there will recognize you. According to the most recent census, the city has a population of over thirty-six thousand people. Even if you’ve changed your appearance—”
“I was only there a few hours. I went to a nearby barbeque restaurant the barbers raved about to grab some dinner and…” Saying he’d met someone was going to launch Candia into a righteous fit. On the other hand, she seemed to have spidey senses. His publicist would figure it out, and when she realized that he hadn’t clued her in, he’d have hell to pay. Besides, she couldn’t help him improve his image if she didn’t know how he might be impacting it. “I sort of…met a woman.”
“Oh my—” she huffed. “Seriously? You think now is the time to get laid? How long before she sells you out to the tabloids? I can see the headlines now. McCall ‘grieves’ with skanky one-night stand.”
“First of all, she’s not skanky and she’s not a simple lay. Her name is Bristol Reese. She bakes for a living. And she’s really damn sweet. Second, she has no idea who I am.”
“Get real.” Candia was jaded on a good day, and this wasn’t a good one at all.
“I’m totally serious. She was in the middle of a weird family situation and I helped her out. She didn’t recognize me. No one did. Look.” He took a quick selfie of his shorn hair and clean face, bare of all leather and jewelry. Then he sent it her way. Jesse studied the image. He looked like a normal Joe.
A few moments later, he heard a ding. “Wow, that’s you? Holy shit, you clean up nice. Okay, I have to admit, I barely recognize you. Your face looks leaner, more chiseled with your hair buzzed. We should talk to Jackie about making this look permanent. It’s a surprisingly cool change.”
Jesse didn’t want to talk about his stylist now. “It’s sure a shitload easier. So anyway, I’m in this small town in Arkansas. Lewisville. Barely a thousand people live here. I’m more likely to be given a sideways glance for being a newcomer than for being an international star. Relax.”
She paused. “You know, maybe it’s not a terrible idea for you to hang low there for a few days. I mean, if this girl has no idea who you are and you really won’t see other people, that little pissant town may be the perfect place to hide.”
Candia’s proclamation made Jesse smile. He didn’t have to give up Bristol yet. Reality would intrude soon enough, but he could enjoy her company a bit longer. He wished he could confide in her, tell her about his problems and his grief. She would listen well and give good advice, he’d bet.
“Admit it. I did the right thing,” he ribbed Candia.
“In theory. It’s early days. Just keep your new bug all snug in your love nest so she can’t squeal. We’ll talk soon.”
Before he could even say good-bye, she hung up. With a shrug, Jesse pocketed his phone. In their world, time was money, and he didn’t pay her to shoot the shit. He’d rather have her figuring out how to assure the public that he hadn’t played any part in the girl’s death and that he was sorry as hell that she was gone.
Jesse made his way back to the upstairs apartment. Not a noise disturbed the space. Shakespurr prowled closer, staring him down before he gave a disdainful meow and trotted off. But he didn’t hear a sound out of Bristol.
When he crept down the hall, he found the bathroom door open, steam still clouding the mirror over the basin. A few steps more, and he stood in the door to her bedroom. She lay across the bed, dressed in a faded gray T-shirt about five sizes too big with some terrycloth turban thing wrapped around her hair. And she was fast asleep.
A fond smile crawled across his face. After her shitty evening with her family, he’d kept her awake more often than not before she’d had to slip out to work. She’d still put in almost a twelve-hour day and confronted her ex head on. His girl had smarts, stamina, and spine.
Well, she wasn’t his, like, forever. But his for another day.
He’d love to wake Bristol and prove exactly how much he appreciated her, in every way he could show her. But right now, she needed sleep. If he intended to spend half the night inside her again—and he did—she’d need it. Along with some food. Then he’d have to figure out how to persuade her to let him stay for a while. He’d slip away for Ryan’s service and try to avoid the press. The rest of the time, he’d spend with Bristol. That made him smile. And bonus, he would be around to fend off Hayden the half-wit. Win-win.
After pressing a light kiss to her forehead, Jesse headed downstairs again to the restaurant’s kitchen. Hands on hips, he surveyed the room. It looked as if a bomb had gone off. He sighed. He was no expert with this stuff, but it couldn’t be impossible to clean. It would also save poor exhausted Bristol a whole lot of effort and allow her to spend the rest of the evening with him.
As he filled the sink with soapy water and dumped all the dirty utensils inside, the events of the past few days rolled through his head. Oddly, despite the fact that his career was in turmoil, his life upside down, and his surroundings unfamiliar, he felt completely centered. Thoughts of Bristol circled, dive-bombed. She was the reason for his Zen attitude. She amazed him. She inspired him.
A melody shot across his brain. It kind of reminded him of her—pretty, haunting, somewhat unexpected. He hummed it as he cleaned a few attachments from the standing mixer and set them out to dry. He moved onto spoons and baking pans, scouring them clean. As he wiped down the counters and display cases, Jesse realized that, despite all the crap in his life, he was smiling. Bristol did that for him. The song rolling around in
his head made him kind of happy, too.
With his grin widening, he plucked his phone from his pocket and started recording the music in his head. For the first time in weeks, maybe years, he felt almost happy.
Chapter Five
Bristol awoke well after dark. She sat up with a start and found herself alone in the rumpled queen-size bed. A glance at the clock confirmed it was nearly two a.m. She’d slept ten hours. Holy cow, she never did that. Jamie had worn her out the night before, and she’d fallen into an exhausted slumber. But at least she was up early for work.
OMG, work! She’d neglected to make sure he’d locked the front door. In fact, she didn’t hear any signs of him prowling around her apartment. Was he even still here?
The thought that he might have left without saying good-bye upset her way more than it should.