Salvation (Nashville Nights #2)

by Robin Covington

  He glances over at me and grins. “I told you.”

  “I said I was in love with the car, not you.”

  “It’s only a matter of time.” He grins and pulls the car over and to a stop. I look out the window and realize we are at my apartment. I look back at him and he grins. “The ride was free but the distraction from the pain will cost you.”

  I snicker as he gets out of the car and heads over to my side. I undo my seatbelt and open my door but he stops me before I can get out.

  “Are you up to it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Then that is a no. You want to do it the same as before but in reverse?” he asks, kneeling down to get to the right level. “Let’s try it.”

  I loop my arms around his neck and he puts an arm under both of my knees and gently wedges the other behind my back. He lifts and a lightning strike of pain runs down my leg and I gasp. He stops immediately, his lips against the skin of my temple as he murmurs soothing noises and apologies.

  “Jesus. I’m sorry.” He adjusts his position around me, his dark head bent and his nose gliding softly against my jaw. I remember he did the same thing after we had sex. A sweet touch after all the sizzling heat. I want to burrow deeper into his embrace, lean on his strength for a little while longer.

  Which means I need to get away from him as soon as possible. I have no business starting anything with this nice guy in party boy clothing. If I keep this up, I might want to keep him.

  “I think I’m good,” I say and when he looks at me, I nod to give him the go-ahead. “I’m on the second floor. There’s an elevator.”

  “You got it.” He lifts me slowly, watching my face closely to gauge my pain level. Once he is fully upright he kicks the door shut with his foot and starts the short trip to my place. There’s no one around so the elevator comes quickly and with just a few moments of wincing pain, we are at my door and he’s unlocking it and carrying me inside.

  “Where do you want to be? Couch?”

  “Yep.” I wave at the longer chaise end of our sectional. “Over there. I can put my feet up.”

  He lowers me to the couch and we both sigh with relief. I lie back on the cushions and close my eyes. Thank God I’m home.

  “Mateo, can you get my meds?” I ask, popping one eye open to find him looking down at me with a worried expression on his face. “What?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the doctor?”

  “No. I’m used to this now. It’s a result of my injury and all the surgeries. I’ll be fine in a little while.”

  He stares at me for a minute, probably deciding whether he believes me or not. Decision made he claps his hands together. “Okay where are your meds?”

  “First room on the right. Right hand side table, top drawer.”

  He heads off in the direction of my bedroom and I hear the slide of the drawer as it opens. A pause and then the question I know is coming.

  “Carlisle, there’s only a few baggies of pot in here.”

  “There’s one with a couple of rolled joints. That’s the one I need.”

  I hear the drawer slide shut and his footsteps as he returns to me, my bag of joints in his hand.

  “You don’t have a prescription you can take?” he asks, handing over the bag when I waggle my fingers at him.

  “I do but they knock me out. I don’t want to sleep, I just want the pain to go away.” I fish a lighter out of the purse lying beside me and light up, patiently coaxing the smoke that will make the bad man go away. I get it going and inhale deeply, holding it in until I have to breathe. I offer it to Mateo. “You want some?”

  “Not my thing but thanks.” He pauses, looking around my living room and I expect his next comment to be “nice place” or something like that but it isn’t. “You get high a lot, yeah?”

  “I wouldn’t say a lot but probably more than the average. The pot helps me with the pain and the other… ” I shrug. “… I just like it.”

  I take another drag and wait him out. He’s got something he wants to ask and I’d bet my favorite pair of Chuck’s that it’s going to be about my medals.

  “Is the pain bad?”

  I am wrong. Color me surprised. Pleasantly.

  “I have a low throb or aches all the time. The scar tissue from the surgeries are the worst but the nerve pain is the one that fucking brings me to my knees.”

  “That sucks.”

  “It really does.” I settle back against the cushions and close my eyes, starting to feel the effects of the drug on my system. “I do not recommend getting blown up.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Laughing, he walks over to me and presses another one of those damn soft kisses to my forehead. I keep my eyes shut and I am all about the other senses.

  He smells awesome, a combination of cologne and something delicious, and I lean into it. I remember every kiss, every touch, every thrust of that night and with the MaryJane relaxing me, my body is responding in all the best ways to his proximity. He pulls away and I almost whimper at the loss of sensation but it’s for the best. I can’t get involved with anyone, it’s my number one rule.

  “Well, I’ve got to go out to my cousin’s house and help him with some drywall. You gonna be okay?” he asks.

  I open my eyes, blinking up at him in the bright sunlight spilling into the room. I’m starting to feel good with the pain subsiding to low throb. “I’m good. Thanks so much for helping me out.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hesitates and then reaches down and grabs my phone off the couch beside me. He thumbs it on and starts typing.

  I laugh and reach for my phone; he zigs when I zag and I can’t get it. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m programming my number in your phone. Call me if you need anything. I’m your backup wingman when Livvy isn’t around.” He hands my phone back to me with a sexy grin and wink of those fucking gorgeous baby blues.

  If I could get my hands on him right now, I’d bite and lick him all over. So, it’s probably a good thing that I can’t off this couch.

  “Hey, thanks. Again.”

  He starts backing up to the door. “Call me. We can grab something to eat.”

  I shake my head, unable to stop smiling. I blame it entirely on the pot. “That sounds too much like a date.”

  “Labels. You are so hung up on labels.” He smiles and steps through the door. “Call me.”

  “I won’t.”

  But I’m starting to wish I could.

  Chapter Four

  Mateo

  “Hey Mateo, did you get a contact high or something?” Max asks.

  I jolt out of my thoughts to find my cousin and Zane staring at me from across the bedroom where we are hanging and taping drywall. This old farmhouse belonged to my grandparents before my grandma died and Max bought it from him. He lives here with his fiancée, Kit Landry, a bona fide country music star who fights for the top spots with Taylor and Miranda. They are planning to have their wedding in this house, so I’ve been recruited to help out. He pays in beer and pizza and front row seats at her shows, so it’s a pretty even trade.

  But today I’m not pulling my weight. I am cold busted. I drifted off, completely immersed in the constant replay of what happened today with Carlisle.

  “Sorry, I just keep thinking about today.” I place the taping knife in the mud pan and place it on the makeshift table holding the bulk of our materials and wipe my hands on my jeans. I grab a Gatorade from the cooler and toss one to each them. I told them about what happened the minute I arrived. “She’s just… ”

  I don’t know how to describe Carlisle Queen. The woman was on the Wheaties box so we all think we know her. And she was the center of the coverage that followed the bombing. She wasn’t the only athlete who survived the bombing but her story was always the lead. A few hours after she stepped off the podium with her twelfth gold medal, she was in a hospital in Germany fighting for her life and grieving the loss of her friends and lover.


  Aaron Daniels and Carlisle were America’s sweethearts. Two kids who’d trained together for years at the same facility in Baltimore, they’d fallen in love in the public eye and everyone ate it up. I wasn’t the only guy who thought Aaron was the luckiest fucker in the world. And now I had a small idea of just lucky he’d been and I wanted more than just one taste.

  I sigh. “She’s got me by the fucking balls, Max.”

  “The sex was that good?” He asks, lowering his bulky frame down to the floor. He’s a big guy, we grow them big in the Butler family and his size helps with his job as a firefighter. We grew up together and he knows me as well as Zane does. “I know how much sex you’ve had, so I’m throwing the bullshit flag.”

  “He’s blinded by the glitter of ‘new pussy’,” Zane adds from his perch on top of a big container or paint. “Blown out of normal proportions by the fact that he’s had a crush on her since the nanosecond she walked into his class. It’s kinda cute.”

  I flip them both the bird because nothing expresses my reaction to their comments any better than that. The fact that they aren’t entirely wrong keeps me from hauling them outside into the yard and kicking their asses.

  “Yes, the sex was that good but she’s fun. Smart. She keeps me at arm’s length, even when I’m helping her. There’s this wall up. You can see through it and you can even touch her but it keeps you from getting too close.” I have no idea if that makes any sense to them but it does to me.

  “So, it’s the thrill of the chase,” Zane comments, nodding his head in understanding. “I get why she keeps reeling you in. It’s not like you to go back for seconds so soon, but I get that.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not just that. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “It sounds to me like she’s got some pretty serious physical concerns going on. You’ve always had a bit of hero complex, Mateo. Maybe your bat signal senses a damsel in distress?” Max asks.

  My first instinct is to deny it but he’s right. I’ve always been the guy who is there when you need help. The guy with the truck to move your shit out of ex’s apartment. The guy who will bail you out of jail. The guy who will show up when you call.

  I like being that guy. It’s hard-wired into my DNA. But when it counted, I failed. Really fucked it all up and let my sister, Mari, and my family down and suddenly I’m not really sure who I am anymore. It doesn’t take Dr. Phil to figure out that that I’ve been dialing it in since then.

  Carlisle has her own rules and so do I. They aren’t that different: avoid anything where someone can start to depend on you. But Carlisle intrigues me enough to want to dip into the shallow end of that pool again.

  “We all know I’m not the guy to rely on,” I say.

  “Jesus Mateo. Mari would kick your ass if she knew you were’ still beating yourself up about it,” Max says, his expression equal parts anger and frustration.

  “She’d remove his balls if she saw how he’s ignoring the medical school stuff that is piling up at our house,” Zane adds. I glare at him for outing my procrastination to Max because we both know that when my mom pumps him for info, Max will have to spill. Nobody crosses my mother or lies to her when she asks a question. Carmela Montez Butler takes no shit from anyone, ever.

  “Look, that dream of medical school was one I had with Mari. She’s gone and I just don’t know if it was ever mine.”

  That is the truth. I don’t remember who thought of opening a practice together, helping people one-on-one but I’m not sure it was me. And now… I don’t know what the fuck I want or if I have what it takes to do a good job.

  “Uh huh. It has nothing to do with the fact that you’re punishing yourself. Paying some stupid penance.” Max doesn’t even try to hide his disbelief. “Just get your shit together and go. The only thing Mari wouldn’t forgive you throwing away this opportunity.”

  I’m done with the conversation. My goal is to put off thinking about any of this shit until the day classes begin in a few weeks. If I find myself standing in front of dead guy in Gross Anatomy, then I’ll know what I’m going to do.

  “Zane are you still playing at that music festival thing in a couple of days?”

  If they are surprised by abrupt change in conversation, the only indication is the look that passes between them that I ignore.

  “Yeah, why? You coming?”

  “Can you get me a spot on the sound stage? Something out of the crowd?”

  His face scrunches up into a “what the fuck” face. “Yeah. I can work it out.” And then the light bulb goes on and he brushes his long hair out of his face and grins. “You want to treat Carlisle to a little VIP treatment.”

  I snort and roll my eyes. “She had dinner at the White House, I’m thinking that meeting you backstage is not going to be the highlight of her life.” I pull my phone out of pocket. “After today, I’m not sure she can handle standing in huge crowds for all that time.”

  He nods. “You get her to go and I’ll make sure she is well-protected from the ‘little people’.”

  I am able to flip him and hit her number on my phone at the same time. It’s a gift.

  “You got her number?” Max asks. “I thought she shot you down.”

  “I took it off the TA list for our class.”

  “Nice abuse of authority. I like it,” Zane says. Of course he does. If there is a rule within five miles, he’s breaking it.

  The phone rings and I walk out on the balcony just off the bedroom. She picks up on the third ring, laughing with whoever is with her in the background.

  “Hello,” her voice gets more distant for a second and I envision her checking the caller ID. “Oh wingman. What are you doing? I thought we covered this calling thing this morning.”

  I smile. Just her voice gets me going and I have to shift to adjust my shorts getting tighter. I need to tread carefully with this woman.

  “I was wondering if you want to go see Zane perform the day after tomorrow. Your exam will be done, you will have failed your verbal portion because of your shitty accent and you will need something to distract your from your defeat.”

  “You suck and you need to stop jinxing me,” she laughs.

  “You didn’t answer my question.” I like that I have to chase her a little bit. It’s nice for a change.

  She sighs. “I told you I don’t date.”

  “And I wasn’t asking. The tickets are free and I have an extra. I’m not picking you up, you can meet me there.” I pretend to think about her other rules and drag the moment out a bit longer. I can hear her breathing on the other end of the phone; it’s a little elevated and I would bet my car that her heart is pounding just like mine. We just do this to each other. “There will be no bed, no sleepover but if you’re up for it, I will fuck you.”

  The sharp inhale from Carlisle ends on a gasp and I know I’ve got her. It might be the last time we hook up, this thing between us has to burn out sometime, but we’ll go out with a bang.

  “I don’t know how I’m supposed to pass that up,” she says, breaking the silence that stretched out a little too long for my comfort. “What time should I meet you?”

  “Eight o-clock?”

  “Fine. I’ll be the one with the cowboy boots and the very low expectations.”

  I huff out a laugh and hope I can wait to see her. This girl fucking kills me.

  “Well, then the only way I can go is up.”

  Chapter Five

  Carlisle

  “Marco?”

  I send the text and look at my phone, waiting for a reply. I’m at the show, held on an outdoor stage in a huge field and there are about twelve gazillion people here. It’s dusk, almost dark and I can’t tell one writhing, dancing body from another. I am never going to find Mateo in this crowd without a little help.

  My phone buzzes in my hand and I look at the screen, so grateful it is backlit and I can see it.

  “Polo” pops up in the familiar blue text box and I don’t have to wait for the direction I ne
ed. “To the left of the sound booth. Back of the audience.”

  I lift my head and scan the area, finding the large sound booth elevated on a small stage and flanked by large light stands. It is on the edge of the crowd of screaming fans listening to a local band play their hearts out. I press forward, circumventing the tight cluster of people and weaving my way around the edges. I feel good tonight, my back is strong but I don’t want to get crushed by people having a good time.

  “Marco?” pops up on my screen and I stop to return the text. “Polo. Near the t-shirt booth.”

  “Coming to you. Don’t move.”

  I do as I’m told and wait by the stand, watching as people fork over their money for stuff with the music festival logo on the front and a list of all the performers on the back. One guy working behind the counter gives me a curious look but is quickly distracted by the line of people in front of him.

  I’m about to send another text when two hands cover my eyes and a rough voice against my ear says, “Marco.”

  I laugh and turn to face Mateo before answering, “Polo.”

  He looks down at me, his blue eyes scanning my face and down my body in one hot glance. I look right back and what I see makes my body pulse with the memory of how good it was between us and how much I want to do it again. He’s so hot, dressed simply in jeans with a black t-shirt, a ball cap turned backwards on his head. He hasn’t shaved today and a dark shadow of hair that I want to reach out and touch covers his jaw.

  His eyes spark with the recognition of what I’m thinking, his grin is wide as he leans back in for a quick kiss on my lips and another murmur against my ear. “I’ve got a spot for us on the sound stage out of the way of the crowd. Zane hooked us up.”

  I grab his arm, needing to get something out of the way. “Hey.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks again for the other day. It’s… ” I look around the crowd and consider my words as they stick to the roof of my mouth. “I don’t like asking for help.” I stumble again. “You were great.”

  He waves me off. “I get it. What you have to deal with, it sucks. I’m just glad I was there to help out.”