Let it Burn: Sons of Sinners Part 2 (A Rock Star Romance)

by Grace James

  I looked down at the flowers, drawing the fresh, sweet scent of them into my nose with my next breath. The bowl was heavy; the water sloshed with my movements as I nudged the door shut with my toe and carried it across my apartment. As I placed it on the kitchen counter with a thick clunk, I noticed the card taped to the side. Not that I needed it. I already had a good idea who had sent them. I pulled it off the bowl anyway and opened it to see a note written in Blake’s lose, messy scrawl:

  Princess,

  These water lilies are proof that I remember everything.

  Question is, do you?

  29

  Ever heard the phrase, He ruined her for other men?

  I always thought that was a romantic novel cliché. Like filler. You know, one of those things that people just say. I mean, how can one really great sexual encounter ruin all of your future experiences? It just seems a bit much. Who knows, maybe your future experiences will be really incredible too?

  It’s ridiculous to say that no one will ever be able to make you feel good again just because one person got your rocks off with a vengeance.

  The thing is, that was the way I used to think.

  Before Blake.

  Over three years before, I had spent the most amazing weekend of my life with him. And it wasn’t just the sex. It was everything. I’d never felt more cared for, more cherished, more loved, than I did in the few hours we had together.

  And it all started with a kiss by a pond in a beautiful garden, hidden behind a screen of tall bushes. The only light came from the big, bright moon hanging in the sky. The only sound was the trickle of a small waterfall as it sent ripples across the pond…a pond that contained water lilies the very same shade of pink as the ones in the bowl in front of me.

  Since Blake, I’d had exactly seven and a half first kisses (I stopped one before it really got going; that guy’s tongue was like an anaconda having a stroke) and exactly three sexual partners.

  Probably the most notable of them was Finn Coleman. He was a football player for UNLV. He was almost a year younger than me, but mature, already a gentleman, an all-round nice guy. Really good looking with a great sense of humor, easy going, very smart, pre-med, quite possibly a future brain surgeon…you see where I’m going? He was basically the whole package.

  But after around six months I broke it off.

  Like I did every time with every guy I dated – only most of them didn’t make it past six weeks.

  Because my first kiss with Blake had been a game changer.

  I’m not sure if it was because I was already in love with him, or if it was just that good, but either way, every kiss that came after Blake fell short. Every guy after Blake fell short. Miserably short. Even seemingly perfect Finn Coleman.

  That damn kiss had ruined me.

  The way his lips, tentative and soft at first, like the barest whisper, had brushed across mine. How his taste – mint, sin, a hint of beer – and his spicy, musky scent overwhelmed my senses. What it had been like to feel, as well as hear, the rumbling groan that escaped him as I bunched my hands in his shirt and pulled him tight against me, melting against his huge, hard body…

  So, yes, I remembered.

  The real question was: how could I ever forget?

  30

  “You look beautiful.”

  “But do I look fuckable?”

  “That’s what you’re going for? Not ‘gorgeous’ or ‘sophisticated’?”

  “Well, yeah, those too. But if Derren doesn’t look at me and think I want to ram my rod in –”

  “Okay!” I raised my hands, signaling PLEASE STOP. “I get it. And yes, you look fuckable.” I was sitting in a chair next to Hayley, sipping champagne while I watched her being primped and preened. Apparently, in really up-market hair salons, you get champagne even if you’re just the guest of a client. Who knew?

  Hayley grinned. “I do, right?”

  “Totally. That’s the one.”

  “Yeah, I really think it is.” Hayley examined her hair in the mirror in front of her one more time, turning her head from side to side slowly, taking in every inch of the elaborate half-up, half-down style. There were dozens of tiny, bottle-green crystals scattered sporadically all over her auburn hair, catching the light every time she moved.

  “So, what are we thinking?” the stylist asked as she walked back over to us. “Is this the hairstyle you’re going to get married in?”

  As I watched Hayley study her hair carefully, my Maid of Honor sixth-sense kicked in. “Uh-oh, not again Hayls?” I asked, although I really needn’t have – the expression on her face said it all. We had already done this whole routine on about fifteen separate occasions with fifteen separate stylists. Each time Hayley had loved her hair at first but then ended up feeling like it just wasn’t ‘her’. I felt like I was going hair-blind, it’s like snow-blind but with disgustingly expensive hair accessories.

  “It just didn’t feel like the one,” Hayley said when we left the salon ten minutes later. The crystals were gone from her hair now, but she’d left it styled. “But it is so pretty.”

  “It is,” I agreed, almost reminding her that she was getting married in less than five weeks and maybe suggesting that she should just go with it if she thought it was pretty – but I stopped myself. She was hiding it well most of the time, but I knew the wedding preparations were starting to stress her out, and peacock training was apparently not going well – shocker – so I didn’t want to put any more pressure on her.

  “Oh – hey – is it too early for Cosmos?” Hayley asked as she pulled me to a stop outside a cocktail bar.

  “No, it’s almost five, you’re good.”

  Grinning, she said, “Then Cosmos it is – and you have to come drink them with me. I’m the bride –”

  “– I have to do what you say, I know,” I finished for her, feigning annoyance as I let her ‘drag’ me inside the bar. “But I can only have one, I have to work tonight.”

  Two cocktails and almost an hour and a half of wedding talk later, I pulled out my cell phone to call a cab. I wasn’t going to have time to go home before I had to be at The Academy for seven.

  “Wait, before you go, I need to talk to you about something,” Hayley said, suddenly looking serious.

  A minute ago she had been telling me all about the wedding band they had hired, beaming like a toddler on a sugar high. Now she looked like she was the mother of said toddler – slightly on edge and waiting for the meltdown.

  “…okay?”

  She cut right to the chase. “Are you gonna tell me what happened between you and Blake?”

  I froze. I hadn’t been planning on mentioning it – talking to Harvey the night before had drained me – but this was Hayley and, if I was honest with myself, I really needed her advice.

  I tapped on my cell, bringing up a photo of the three beautiful water lilies floating in the goldfish bowl, and handed it to her.

  She didn’t look confused like I had expected. Instead, her mouth slid into a knowing smile. “My mom told me he did this.”

  I was confused. “Your mom? How did your mom know?”

  “Because he took them from her pond. He went over to her place this morning and asked if he could pick some to send to you.”

  I didn’t say anything. I had thought Blake had called up a florist and ordered the lilies. An image of him back there, in Dawn’s garden by the pond where we had our first kiss, pulling dripping flowers from the water for me, knocked another hole in my defenses.

  I dropped my face into my hands, groaning, “Tell me I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Hayley replied instantly, although I could hear the smile in her voice.

  Despite my request, I said, “Don’t want to know why I’m an idiot first?”

  “Oh, I already know why.”

  “You do?!” I lifted my head to look back up at her through my fingers. “Did Blake tell you?”

  She scoffed at that. “No, of course not. But, aside
from the plot of a Katherine Heigl movie, you and Blake hooking up again was the single most predictable thing on the planet.”

  I was a little offended by that. I almost said something like, What’s THAT supposed to mean? You don’t think I can control myself around him?!

  Then I remembered that actually, no, clearly I couldn’t.

  Ugh.

  I groaned again before I dropped my hands to my lap and told her everything.

  Hayley was wide eyed when I was done. “That sounds really freaking hot.”

  “That’s all you’ve got?”

  She snorted a laugh. “Sorry.” She paused, sobering a little before she said, “Amy, it’s not a crime.”

  “What’s not? Being an idiot? Well, that’s good, because I am obviously the world’s biggest –”

  “No, not that,” she interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “I meant it’s not a crime for you to still want him.”

  “I don’t,” I said quickly. I was so used to denying my feelings for him that it was just second nature – but it was useless at this point. “I mean…God, I don’t know what I mean. I feel like someone put my brain in a blender.”

  Hayley’s voice turned sympathetic. “Look, Amy, I know you. You wouldn’t have dirty workplace-sex with just anyone. Blake’s still under your skin, whether you admit it or not.”

  “That doesn’t mean I want him to be,” I pointed out.

  “No it doesn’t,” she agreed. “And if you really want him to leave you alone then it’s good that you pushed him away. But you need to stick to your guns. If you don’t want him, make it clear. It won’t do either of you any good to keep fooling around if it’s not what you really want.”

  I nodded as I listened, knowing she was right.

  “But,” she continued, “if you do secretly still want him, then not admitting it would be the thing that really makes you an idiot.”

  I was quiet for a long time. Hayley didn’t say anything else, she just sipped her cocktail and let me think.

  Eventually, I said, “But if I did – admit it, I mean – what if he…”

  Hayley raised her eyebrows at me expectantly but, unable to finish the sentence, I looked away towards the bar, seriously considering saying ‘screw it’ and ordering another cocktail, even though I had to be at work in a half hour.

  “What if he leaves again?” Hayley asked gently.

  I sighed and looked back at her. “…yeah.”

  “Well, I’m not gonna sit here and say that he won’t – that’s something you should talk to him about. But I think what it really comes down to is whether you think he’s worth the risk. That’s the bottom line.”

  31

  Hayley’s words whirled around my head as I said goodbye and climbed into the cab outside the bar.

  As I rode through the city, I came to a conclusion: she wasn’t a hundred percent right.

  Whether Blake was worth the risk really wasn’t the bottom line. The bottom line was how much of myself I was willing to risk…because I’d never really gotten Blake out of my system. He’d been there all along, even when I pretended he wasn’t – but he was bad news.

  And if I allowed myself to get sucked back in, it was me who was going to have to pay for it in the end.

  That was just logic.

  Letting Blake back in again would be insane.

  Whatever this thing was between us, it couldn’t happen again.

  32

  Work was busy that night. We were full to capacity again, and the headliners were Serotonin – who were originally supposed to play the night of Blake and Derren’s show. They tore the place up, whipping the crowd into hyped up mass of energy that continued on into the after-show party.

  After we closed the place down and the bartenders counted our takings, which were once again way bigger than we were used to, we all decided to have a drink to celebrate. One turned into three and, by the time I left, the beers on top of my earlier cocktails had me feeling the buzz.

  Just before I crawled into bed, I pulled my phone out of my purse to check for messages – I hadn’t looked at it since I’d called the cab from the cocktail bar earlier – and saw that I had a text from Blake that was hours old.

  Even though my stupid heart had kicked up at seeing his name on the screen, I made myself get into bed before I opened the message – just to prove to myself that I didn’t have to open it immediately.

  Blake: Did you get the flowers?

  I figured I should be polite and thank him, and then if he texted again I should tell him not to contact me anymore. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

  Me: I did. Thank you. They’re beautiful.

  I sent the text and then put my phone on my nightstand. I doubted I’d get a reply. When he’d texted me it had been just before ten, and it was now after three in the morning. He was probably sleeping. But when my phone buzzed with another message a few minutes later, I embarrassed myself with how quickly I picked it up.

  Blake: You’re welcome. You recognize them?

  Me: What would you do if I said no?

  Blake: Fuck you extra hard for lying to me.

  Well, that escalated quickly.

  I slapped my phone face down onto my chest, simultaneously digging my hand into my hair and really trying to ignore the pulse in my core caused by those words.

  This was the part where I should just set him straight.

  Me: I don’t think so. That was a onetime deal. It can’t happen again.

  There. That was definitely clear. There were no mixed signals there.

  Blake: Wrong.

  I snorted when I read that and was just about to put my cell back on my nightstand when it flashed again in my hand. Damnit, I couldn’t ignore it.

  Blake: Just want to let you know that I’ll be out of town for a couple days but I’ll be back Sunday night.

  Me: If you say so.

  Blake: I do. I’m only out here for work.

  Me: Where’s here?

  Blake: LA. Got that interview and photoshoot with Rolling Stone in the morning. Then I got an underprivileged teens charity thing Sunday before I fly back to Vegas.

  He was doing charity work? That wasn’t playing fair. I needed to end the conversation before he told me that he was also going to go hand out toys at an orphanage or something.

  Me: Sounds like you should be asleep instead of texting me.

  Blake: But I like texting you.

  A silly smile spread across my face as I read that. God, I was an idiot.

  Me: Well, I should be sleeping too. I had some beers after work and they’re making me tired.

  Blake: Okay. Sweet dreams, Princess. Talk soon.

  Me: That’s not a good idea.

  Blake: Wrong x

  I awoke at almost midday on Saturday, feeling rested and relaxed for the first time in over a week. I stretched lazily before rolling out of bed and heading for the shower. On the way, I grabbed my phone to put on a YouTube playlist and saw that I had a message from Blake from a couple of hours before. It was a picture of the inside of what looked like an aircraft hangar – or something equally as vast and bare – with photography lights set up on the concrete floor. The caption read: Bored waiting for this shit to start. Wanna play 20 questions?

  I didn’t reply. There was no alcohol in my blood now and I was thinking clearly again. Last night was another slip. Today I was going to stick with my decision. I was going to be strong.

  The rest of the day was spent running errands, cleaning my apartment, going to get groceries, and meeting a couple of friends I used to go to college with for an early dinner before I went into work again.

  There was a funky blues band on that night and the place was bursting. The after-party went on even later, so it was almost 4AM before I finally flopped into bed. And checked my phone. I hadn’t allowed myself to look at it all night, but as soon as my head hit the pillow I just couldn’t resist any longer.

  There was a message from Blake: How was work?


  My internal debate lasted for about thirty seconds before I caved; there must have been something about being tired, and alone, and curled up in bed that made me weak.

  Me: Really good. There was a VERY good blues band on tonight. They’re regulars and they’re always awesome.

  Blake: Awesomer than me?

  Me: Awesomer? Really?

  Blake:AWESOMER: The act of being more awesome than another individual.

  Me: INSANE: The act of being a fruit loop.

  Blake:SMARTASS: The act of thinking of oneself as being awesomer than one actually is.

  Me: GOOFBALL…

  Underneath that, I attached a picture of him I found on Google.

  Blake: Ha! You win for inventiveness.

  Me: I always win…

  Blake: You do.

  Me: How was the interview and shoot today? Was it fun?

  Blake: Long. A lot of standing around with my shirt off. Managed to name drop The Academy a few times though, so they’ll hopefully print that – you can thank me later ;-)

  Me: I’ll thank you now – thank you.

  Blake: And later?

  Me: Nope.

  Blake: Cold.

  Me: You’ll survive.

  Blake: I won’t. I can’t liiiiive, if living is without you…

  Me: lol

  Blake: I wanna feel what love is! I know you can show meeeee…

  Me: Are you drunk?

  Blake: I’m a little drunk on you, and high on summer time…

  Me: Nilsson…Foreigner…Bryan? That’s a random selection. And what about YOUR lyrics, hot shot?

  Blake: My lyrics make you wanna punch me.

  Me: True…

  I realized that I was grinning as we texted, and I was suddenly acutely aware of the trap I was trying to avoid – this felt like something couples did, checking in after a long day and trying to make each other laugh. But history had taught me that me and Blake as an actual functioning couple was ridiculous.