When I opened my eyes, Justin was staring even more intently. “You’re beautiful.” His gaze moved over my body, and it was hard not to reach up and pull the robe more tightly closed. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why you hide that gorgeous figure of yours beneath all that loose clothing.” He was very observant, dangerously so.
I started to tell him that what I wore was none of his business, first glancing at Carter to see if he had heard. He hadn’t luckily. He was humming contentedly as he often did whenever he really liked what he was eating.
Somehow I found myself telling him the truth instead. “I don’t want the type of attention tighter clothing might attract.”
He continued to stare at me. It was unnerving. “That been working out for you?”
I nodded.
“Then the guys in Florida must be idiots.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. He looked so serious, and he was so very handsome. The attention from him was flattering. “Thank you for saying that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Hey, Justin.”
“What, buddy?”
“I want a nickname,” Carter informed him. “Miss Lace calls you JJ. You call her Double L. Bryan’s Bullet, and Lace calls Mom Gigi.”
“She does?”
I nodded, pinned in place by those emerald eyes that I’d probably dream about tonight.
His head tilted to the side, studying my face. “It suits you.” Carter pulled on his arm and he shifted his attention to my son, giving me my first real extended opportunity to check him out. And Justin Jones in black and white Volcom board shorts hanging low on his hips was worth the time to check out. He was as lean and toned as I’d imagined. I tracked a droplet of water as it slid down from the hollow of his masculine throat to the center of his wide chest and then it went lower, up and over the ridges of definition on his abdomen. I stared mesmerized at that single droplet until it disappeared inside his waistband.
When I lifted my head, I found him watching me. I froze, finding it difficult to swallow with his heated eyes blazing into mine. I dropped my gaze, again, meticulously arranging discarded crusts in the pizza box.
“Nicknames are tricky,” Justin said. I looked up, relieved to see he’d turned his attention back to Carter. He tapped his sexy lips, the bottom fuller than the top, as if considering. “I’ll need some time to choose just the right one for you.”
“Ok.” Carter nodded and stuffed another bite of pizza, his third slice, into his mouth. Justin finished his current piece before picking up Carter’s crust.
“You eat that part?” I asked him.
“It’s ok. Not my favorite, but,” his brow slightly creased, “Avery and I’ve been living on our own since we were sixteen. It was tough in the beginning. We ate what we could get. And well,” he shrugged, “I guess I got into the habit of not wasting.”
I stared at him. The more he shared the more I realized my preconceived notions about him had probably been wrong. When he didn’t elaborate any further, I picked up the conversation. “I was more fortunate in that regard. My grandmother took me in after my stepmother kicked me out of the house. We didn’t live in luxury with Meemaw, but I didn’t care. I was grateful for a place to stay. And we always had enough to eat. One of her favorite sayings was waste not, want not. So I totally get where you’re coming from.”
“Your grandmother sounds like my kinda woman.” That intensity was back with him again and my stomach got all fluttery.
“I miss Meemaw.” My son’s voice quavered with emotion. A glance in his direction confirmed what I feared, big fat tears spilling down his cheeks. I pushed back my chair and went to him, pulling him into my chest.
“I miss her too.” The words came out of my throat with effort. The familiar dread crept over my body again when suddenly a pair of warm strong arms wrapped around both of us. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to accept the comfort Justin was offering, but I did. His heat dissolved the cold and as he squeezed tighter, I closed my eyes, sank back into him, and let his strength wash over me.
It only lasted a few moments, but in those moments my mind rested within the edges of something pure and peaceful. Something I had once possessed and lost a long, long time ago.
“I’m ok, Mommy.” Carter wiped his face with the back of his hands and put on a brave face. I kissed his wet cheek and eased back from him as Justin released us.
I found myself not wanting to let go. But I knew I had to. I was all too well acquainted with losing, and I wasn’t willing to risk my heart again.
“Yo, Rojo.” King called from behind me, punctuating his words with a drum roll on the studio snare.
I turned around, tucking my pick inside my pocket so I could flex my fingers. They were pretty cramped up. I was used to practicing every day, but not like this. We’d been in the studio for hours for several days now, working on the Tempest set list. We were all starting to get sick of the repetition.
I wasn’t surprised to see frustration evident on our drummer’s face. “Don’t forget to give me a visual cue before you start ‘My Way,’ alright?”
“Sure. Sorry.”
His chin dipped. “De nada.” He put his sticks down, reached down behind the kit, and came back up with a bottled water in his fist. I didn’t sweat the criticism. It was constructive and anyway you pretty much knew where you stood with King. If he didn’t like something, he told you straight out. No bullshit. I’d been around long enough now to have experienced his legendary quick fuse, but I’d also discovered that he was just quick to get over whatever had made him mad in the first place, which made the temper thing a lot easier to tolerate.
“I thought it sounded better that time.” I turned toward Bryan, surprised to receive any encouragement from our lead guitarist.
Hell, I sure hoped it did. That was about the hundredth time we’d done that song. He unclipped his Les Paul, and I sighed inwardly. I wasn’t going to read too much into it though. I got the feeling that I would always be on the outside looking in where he was concerned.
“I say we call it a day,” Bryan glanced around, looking to the others for a consensus. Dizzy nodded his spiky blond head. Sager grabbed his newsboy cap and put it on, and King immediately kicked back from his stool and stood.
It was unanimous, then.
Thank God. I was worn out from the pressure of being under the gun all week. I’d been so full of confidence after the tryout, but actually attempting to walk around in Warren Jinkins’ shoes was another thing entirely. The first couple of times the guys and I had gotten together, I’d tried to imitate War’s style and technique, guttural yells and everything, but even before Dizzy pulled me aside, I’d known that it was lame.
“Just be yourself, man,” Dizzy had told me. “Do it like you did during the audition.”
Practice had gone much better after I’d followed that advice. But we still weren’t there. We had a long way to go before we were a cohesive unit. Bryan was obviously the crux of the problem. He’d become the de facto leader of the group after War left, and that was ok, except that the toxic vibe leeching off him was poisoning everything and everyone else around him. Not much I did seemed to meet with his approval. I was going to have to do something about that. I just hadn’t figured out what yet.
I closed the latches on my case and my thoughts sprinted down the well-worn path straight to Bridget. She was the other reason I felt so tightly strung. I’d dropped by her apartment every day since that night with her and Carter down at the pool. But I’d missed her… every single time. I knew she was working at a coffeehouse up the street and was busy with Carter in school, but I was beginning to suspect she was actually avoiding me for some reason.
I hadn’t pushed it because I knew she would have to see me tonight. It was Friday and at seven I was going to give Carter his first guitar lesson.
I held back inside the studio, watching as the guys filed out. They were off to the Diamond Mine to play some pool. The four of them
were tight, at ease as they talked loudly and made plans for the upcoming weekend. I tried not to let it get to me that they didn’t think to include me.
I snagged my leather jacket from the chair where I’d tossed it earlier, strode through the quiet shadowed empty downstairs corridor of Black Cat, and passed the abandoned reception desk. Karen was long gone for the day. It was well past regular office hours.
I threw a leg over my motorcycle, fired it up, and soon felt better once I was out of the garage and had the icy wind whipping across my face. I leaned forward, accelerated, and weaved in and out of traffic on my way back to downtown, my mood improving the closer I got to the Sutton.
I parked the Triumph, pocketed the key, and hit the elevator. By the time I entered my apartment and began straightening the living area my pulse was all jacked up with anticipation. I’d only just stowed the last big pile of dirty clothes in the closet when the doorbell buzzed.
Shit.
I glanced around the apartment. It was still a little disorderly, but what the hell. If things went the way I wanted them to go, she wouldn’t even notice. I peeked at the time on my cell on the way to the door. She was five minutes early. My lips curved. Maybe she wasn’t avoiding me after all.
A grin of anticipation in place, I yanked the apartment door open. Lace was standing out in the corridor with Carter by her side, but Bridget was nowhere in sight. My smile turned into a displeased frown.
Lace gave me a puzzled look. “Don’t you have a lesson with Carter this evening?”
“Yeah.” I raked a hand through my hair and waved them both inside. “How ‘ya doing, buddy?” I asked him, striving for a light tone to hide the disappointment churning in my gut.
“Ok,” he replied softly without looking up. His chin seemed to be glued to his chest. Apparently someone else wasn’t in a happy mood tonight either.
Wondering what was up, I let him wander in ahead of Lace and me. “What’s wrong with Carter?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with him.” Her lips flattened as she glanced over at Carter who had taken a seat on the couch and was staring down at his lap. He appeared so dejected. It made me sad just to look at him. “He’s been really quiet the last several days.” Her gaze shifted back to me, her eyes assessing.
“Where’s Bridget?” I asked in a confidential tone.
“I’m helping Gigi out. She’s catching up on laundry tonight.”
I could certainly understand the necessity of that, but the timing seemed too coincidental in my mind.
“Why do you want to know, anyway?” she asked astutely as she continued scrutinizing me. “Ah.” One of her honey blond brows rose. “You like her, JJ,” she decided in a teasing lilt. “You were expecting her to bring Carter over. So that’s why you’ve been over at my place every day this week. And here I thought it was because you enjoyed my stellar company.”
I rolled my eyes. “Carter,” I called out, and he looked up. “You and I’ll get started in a sec. I just need to have a quick word with Lace out in the hall.” I put my hands on her shoulders steering her toward the door, pulling it almost closed as soon as we were through it.
“Don’t worry.” Lace’s expression had turned as serious as her tone. “I’m not saying a thing to her. But I think you should know upfront that she’s been treated pretty poorly in the past. Carter’s dad is a real ass. If you’re interested in her because you want to tool her around or make her some kind of trophy to add to your wall, I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“I’m not.” And that was the truth. I realized it as soon as the words left my mouth. That might have been part of my motivation in the beginning, but things were definitely different now.
“Really?” Lace gave me another narrow eyed assessment. I could tell she was working something out in her mind. Whatever she decided, she was nodding as she moved away. “You and Carter have a good time tonight.” Her voice drifted back to me over her shoulder. “Bring him to my place when you’re done. I’m not sure if Bridget will be around, but Bryan and I are staying in for the evening.”
She disappeared inside her apartment and I went back in mine. Carter was in the exact same spot that I’d left him in. I don’t think he’d moved even an inch. I felt my brows come together. I didn’t think it was usual for any five year old boy to be so still for so long.
I plucked my guitar off its stand before moving to take a seat beside him. “How was your first week of school?” I asked studying his profile, belatedly realizing he hadn’t changed out of white polo and khaki school uniform.
“Ok.” He didn’t look at me. His eyes remained on his lap. That wasn’t like him at all, and it was the second time I’d gotten that same kind of vague response from him.
My eyes narrowed. Obviously something was wrong. I didn’t know a whole lot about kids, but I thought maybe if I shared something first then he might loosen up and talk to me. “I don’t know about you, buddy, but I’ve had a really rough week with the band.”
That got his attention. His blue eyes met mine and he slowly blinked up at me. I took that as a good sign and continued, “But I got through it because I’ve been really looking forward to hanging out with you.”
Carter chewed on his lip. I noticed that his bottom one had a few scabs on it. Seemed as if he’d been gnawing it up pretty good. I was fairly certain it hadn’t looked like that earlier in the week.
I decided on the straightforward approach. “Something bothering you, buddy?”
His eyes went back to his lap, and his straight platinum hair swished back and forth as he shook his head in vigorous denial.
I sighed. I was at a complete loss. “If you don’t want to talk about it right now, that’s ok, but if you change your mind just remember that I’m a pretty good listener, alright?”
He nodded.
“Let’s go ahead and give this a try then.” I put my guitar in his lap.
He put his hands in the right position, one on the neck, one on the body, right off the bat. His lips curved into a small smile, and his shoulders seemed to relax a little.
I bet he’d been watching Bryan all week. I scooted in closer, then realized we had a problem. “Uh-oh. I think your fingers are too small for my guitar, Carter.”
“I’m not little,” he protested, his lip jutting out.
“I didn’t mean to imply that you are,” I replied carefully. “We’re just going to have to put off our lesson until we can get you a smaller guitar, one that fits your hand better.”
“Ok.” His disappointment was easy to read. “I wanted to play something for my mom.” He thrust the guitar back at me and turned his head to the side, but I caught a glimpse of the threatening tears glassing up his eyes.
Holy hell. It definitely wasn’t ok. “How about I show you a few basic chords tonight? And then tomorrow I’ll take you shopping, and we’ll get you a guitar of your own?”
Finally I received a genuine smile. One that lit up Carter’s lightly freckled face and made his eyes sparkle. I didn’t realize how tightly wound I’d been until my muscles loosened in response to it.
We worked together for a while, and I was pleased to discover that Carter was an attentive pupil, listening, absorbing, and applying everything I taught him. I was even able to tease him out of his funk, earning another grin with my efforts. I thoroughly enjoyed the lesson.
When our time was up, I grabbed the guitar neck in one hand and Carter’s hand in the other. “Let’s go find your mom, buddy. I wanna see her face when you show her what you’ve already learned.”
Lace answered the door when I knocked. I smiled at her as I took in her appearance. Obviously she and Bryan had been busy. Her lips looked thoroughly kissed, her hair was messed up, and her shirt was buttoned unevenly.
Lace rolled her eyes in silent response to my quirked brow. “Bridget’s in her room folding clothes,” she told us as she led us in.
Bryan was lounging on the sofa in the living room. He looked like a happy man, and only h
ad eyes for Lace. He put his legs up on the coffee table and patted a spot on the couch beside him. Clearly he was ready to start right back up where they had left off, and Lace didn’t hesitate. Without another word, she rounded the coffee table and resumed her position beside him.
With Carter’s small hand still in mine, I continued down the hall. I heard her as we passed the kitchen and a moment later we traced the sound to its source.
Bridget.
She was whistling the tune to “Blackbird.” Her back was to us in the doorway and her hips were swaying enticingly. I vaguely noted the huge pile of folded clothes on the bed in front of her.
“Hey, Mom.” Carter released my hand and hopped onto the bed.
Bridget’s arms quickly shot out to steady the now swaying pile and kept it from tumbling over. She must’ve sensed my presence because she turned, and her cheeks blushed a becoming shade of pink. “Hello, Justin,” she managed after a prolonged pause during which she reached up a hand and smoothed her hair. The bangs had been slightly mussed as if she’d repeatedly run her fingers through them.
“Hello, Bridget,” I returned just as formally, though I wasn’t pleased that she seemed to want to go back to pretending we were distant acquaintances. She’d have to be encased in glass not to feel the connection between us. “How was your week?”
“Fine, but too long,” she admitted.
“Mine, too,” I allowed, continuing to watch her, wondering why she was acting like this. Carter bounced on the bed. She gave him the same adoring look that I was becoming fond of.
“Carter did real well on his first lesson,” I informed her. “He picks things up with very little instruction.”
“Watch what I can do, Mom.” Carter held out his hands, and I handed him the guitar. He balanced the instrument on his lap and strummed through the chords I had taught him. I took advantage of the opportunity to examine her while he played. She seemed slightly pale beneath her light tan. There were dark smudges under her eyes as if she hadn’t been sleeping well. That wasn’t really surprising. She had to be completely overwhelmed being a single mom in an unfamiliar place with Carter at a new school, and her starting a job. I really didn’t know how she managed to do it all by herself, especially knowing how hard her grandmother’s death had hit her.
Enticing Interlude (Tempest #2) Page 6