She’s not for you. Her words echoed in his head, and he squared his shoulders.
“I fed Michael and made sure Maggie was okay before I left. She had a nasty head injury, and you can’t be too careful with something like that.”
His mother pursed her lips slightly. “All right.”
The subject was closed. For now.
She rose, grabbed a bottle of wine off the counter, and poured herself a glass, leaning against the dark granite as she swirled the pale liquid. When she met his gaze once more, there was a softer look in her eyes. “You look tired.”
She stared at him for several long moments and then crossed over, her hand falling to his chest, close to his heart. “You look tired in here.”
Cain stared down at his mother and clenched his jaw. “Yeah.”
“What’s really going on with you?” Her blue eyes shadowed with concern. “And don’t say ‘nothing.’ What happened in Barcelona was not nothing.”
He sighed and moved away from his mother. Just thinking of the situation he’d left behind made him tense, and he ran fingers along the tight cord of muscle at his neck. Was it only twenty minutes ago that he’d been relaxed in the cocoon of Maggie’s kitchen?
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Then talk to me, Cain. Don’t keep it bottled up inside. That’s the worst thing you can do. It will make you ill, trust me.”
Cain stared at his mother intently. He felt the words sitting in the back of his mouth, but his throat was tight. Spain had been a low point for him. The culmination of a lot of crap that had been building for months. The bitter taste of it made him grimace. “Barcelona was not good.”
“Not good?” His mother frowned. “Cain, you threw a punch at one of your band members and knocked him off the damn stage. Nearly caused a riot. It’s a hell of a lot more than not good.”
Anger coursed through him swift and hard. “Blake had it coming. You can’t expect to bang someone’s wife without consequence.”
Lauren’s eyebrows rose in shock. “Blake was having an affair with Natasha?”
He nodded and glanced out the window into the darkness. In the distance, lights twinkled around the lake like shiny diamonds cutting through the black. His mother’s windows were open, and a crisp, fresh breeze blew through the room. The rain from earlier in the evening had moved on, but the smell of its freshness lingered.
It was so quiet here. Serene. A far cry from the life he’d been inhabiting.
Damn, but he was tired of it all.
“Cain?”
He nodded. “Apparently he’s the latest in a long line. I didn’t know until after the divorce proceedings had started, or I would never have gone on tour with the bastard. Blake got drunk one night and it came out. A confession of his soul, I think he called it.” Cain clenched his hands. “He should have kept his fucking mouth shut.”
He felt his mother’s warm hand against his arm. “So that’s why he left the tour.”
Cain’s eyes were flat. He knew speculation had run rampant after the Barcelona incident—Blake had a drug problem, Cain had gone prima donna—but the plain truth was so much simpler.
“He crossed a line and was fired. Now he’s suing BlackRock—which, I have to say, the record label isn’t happy with. They want to pay him off and be done with it, but I’m not liking that train of thought.”
“Oh honey, I didn’t know.” Lauren’s brow furled. “But why would he sue you?”
“He’s not stupid.” He shrugged. “He knows the next album could put us over the top. Hell, everyone is expecting it. He’s hoping to cash in. Blake’s been there since the beginning. He’s co-written everything with me and will make money off those royalties for years. But now he wants royalties from any future recordings…songs he’ll have no hand in writing.”
“He’s blowing smoke. No judge would ever allow that to go through. He’s being an asshole, angling for more money.” She frowned. “Is Natasha putting him up to this? She still pissed that you broke it off with her?”
“I’m sure she’s enjoying the attention. Her publicity machine will work any angle they can. Honestly, I don’t give two shits about the money. I’ve never had buckets of the stuff, but have always managed to make a living. That’s not what I’m worried about…” His voice trailed off and his chest tightened.
“What is it?” His mother prodded.
“Nothing I want to talk about now.” He pushed aside his dark thoughts. He’d deal with them later.
“Okay.” Silence fell between the two of them, and then Lauren spoke softly. “How long are you staying here?”
He glanced down at his mother and felt a bit of the weight he carried leave him. “I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon, if that’s all right.”
She looped her arms through his and rested her head against his shoulder. “That’s more than all right.”
***
“You catch anything?”
“Huh?” Cain turned to Mac and stretched out his long limbs in front of him. His feet were bare and he wriggled his toes, thinking that he hadn’t been this relaxed in forever. The sun was warm against his face and shirtless chest, and the silence on the lake soothed his soul.
“Our boy’s off in la-la land again.” Jake grabbed the spot beside him as the boat rolled against the gentle swell of the water. “What the hell’s got you so distracted?”
Long red hair, peaches-and-cream skin, and wicked blue eyes flashed before him.
“Nothing, I’m just enjoying the quiet.”
It was Sunday, late morning, and the three of them had been out on the water for several hours. They’d spent most of Saturday cleaning up Old Smoky—the name given to the twenty-foot power boat Mr. Edwards had given to his twin sons on their fifteenth birthday. It sported a forty-five horsepower outboard and back in the day had had just enough room for the four of them, a case of beer, their fishing gear, and a couple of girls. Many a weekend they’d spent entire Saturdays out on the water fishing, drinking, smoking whatever they could get their hands on, and just shooting the shit.
God, to be that young again.
The four of them had been kings, with nothing on their minds but scoring as much tail as they could, hitting the best parties in town, and playing football. There’d been no responsibility—no limitations—only the open road of possibility to roam.
Cain ran his fingers along the edge of the boat. The cream and navy colors had long faded, beaten down by the sun. The damn thing brought back a lot of memories. His gaze rested on Jake and then slid to the empty seat beside him.
Jesse’s spot. Yeah, a lot of memories.
“So, what’s with the little redhead?” Mac popped open a beer and took a long drink before wiping foam from the corner of his mouth. “What’s her story?”
Cain sighed. Here we go.
He glanced up. Mac’s dark blond hair was already a shade lighter, and it was good to see him out of Armani and decked out in plain old cotton. He was bare chested and had gained a considerable amount of muscle since Cain last saw him. Mac had been hitting the gym hard. Hell, put him in a marine uniform and he’d be as badass as Jake.
Jake grinned. “Maggie? Raine’s friend? The one with the kid?” Jake glanced at Mac. “Toss me one, will ya?” He settled back, his eyes boring into Cain. “So what the hell did I miss? You’re home less than twenty-four hours and already scored the cutest thing in town?”
Mac laughed. “Some things never change.”
Cain scowled at the two of them. “It’s not like that.”
Jake chuckled. “So tell me Cain…what it’s like, exactly?”
He caught the look Mac shot at Jake, and his scowl deepened. “Drop it.”
Truthfully, there was nothing to tell. The woman wasn’t interested. After he made supper for Michael, she’d insisted he leave. She’d done everything but yank him by the arm and throw him out of her house. Said she’d set her alarm for every two hours so she’d wake up and promised that if t
he nausea continued, she’d go back and see the doctor.
Christ, he’d stood on her porch and listened to her turn at least three dead bolts behind him. If that didn’t say “stay the hell away,” he didn’t know what did.
He’d left—reluctantly—and not because he’d been looking to score some action. Being in her home with her kid had been nice and simple and easy.
God, he missed easy. Normal.
“So, she shot you down?” Mac leaned back and smiled.
“What are we? Sixteen? Drop it.” Cain sat up, ran fingers over his taut belly. Hunger pangs sat low in his gut, and he was ready to head back.
They were spending the afternoon at the Edwards place, relaxing and hanging out, just like old times. A barbecue was planned for later—a small, intimate affair—with his mother and Raine invited.
The Edwardses’ loss was still raw, and they were mourning. Hell, they all were, but if Jesse’s death had taught them anything, it was the need to hold close the things that were important. Family and friends. And that’s what today was about.
Mac was supposed to head back to New York on Monday, and as for Cain, he’d finally called his manager the day before, after Charlie had begun hounding his mother. Figured he’d better, before rumors started to circulate that he’d died or disappeared somewhere over the Atlantic.
Their part in the tour was officially over. The Grind had picked up another act to continue with. After the Barcelona incident and Blake’s abrupt departure, they’d had no choice—the Glasgow show had been done with a hired drummer. But as was the way of it in this day of celebrity, the incident, captured on YouTube and the like, had generated even more buzz.
He’d nearly started a riot, and it had only served to enhance BlackRock’s profile. What the future brought was up to him, and as the weight of it pressed on him, Cain grimaced. His next move would be critical, and that begged the question, could he handle it on his own? His entire career had been linked to Blake.
Cain sighed and rubbed the scruff on his chin. Christ, he didn’t want to think about that right now. For the moment he was free, not due in the studio until the fall. Seemed like a distraction was in order. Again his thoughts turned to Maggie.
He arched a brow at Jake and asked the question he’d been pondering since the day before. “When are you heading back to Afghanistan?”
Jake drained the last of his beer, crushed the can in his hands, and looked across the lake toward home. “I’m not.” Jake’s face was hard, his eyes dark as he turned to Cain. “We should head back.”
The conversation was over, and Cain knew enough to let it go. “Sure. Sounds good.” He cracked a smile. “It’s not like we caught anything.”
Several boats dotted the lake. The sun’s intensity had increased in the last hour or so, and cottage country had come alive. The shoreline was dotted with a thick carpet of trees and the seasonal cottages that surrounded the public beach near the south side.
Jake turned their boat north, which was where his family’s home was located. It was the premier spot on Crystal Lake, and the homes that claimed the north shoreline belonged to residents of the town who could afford to live there—which weren’t many—or new money that had come to town from the city.
Cain grabbed his old worn and dog-eared Boston Bruins cap off the seat beside him and pulled it down onto his head. It looked like shit, but then, it had rested in peace, tucked away inside Old Smoky for years.
The ride to the Edwardses’ took less than five minutes, and as they pulled up to the boathouse, he noticed a boy on the beach. A little guy with russet curls, pale skin, and bright green swim trunks. Behind him, up near the gazebo, a woman stood, hands shading her eyes as she glanced toward them, her long, dark hair drifting on the breeze.
His gut flipped and rolled like he was sixteen again, sniffing around the skirts of Shannon Graham, his first crush. He’d been pathetic then, and damn if he didn’t feel a flush creep up his neck now.
Cain rubbed his jaw and let his shaded eyes drink in the simple beauty that Maggie exuded. It was easy to do—the woman was wearing a black bikini. Not a skimpy number like the ones his ex used to favor. This one covered all the parts that should be covered, but as his gaze wandered her creamy flesh, he felt his groin tighten. Her breasts were a touch more than a handful—just what he liked—and though she was slender, her belly was softly rounded, the way a woman’s should be.
But it was the bottoms that snagged his attention. Hello. They were boy cuts. Christ, there was nothing sexier than a woman nestled inside a pair of tight black boy shorts. She turned and spoke to Raine, and his eyes lingered on the soft swell of her ass, the length of her toned legs.
“Your little redhead sure as hell fills out a bathing suit.” Mac smacked him on the back before jumping onto the dock.
Cain glared at his friend and ignored the snort Jake emitted as he leaped onto the dock and glanced toward the gazebo. Cain’s gaze rested on Maggie, lingered on the miracle that was her boy shorts, and desire rushed through him, fast and hot. He clenched his teeth together tightly.
She sure as hell did.
Chapter 7
“You didn’t tell me they were going to be here.” Maggie tossed a towel onto one of the chaise lounge chairs and set her beach bag on the ground. She’d followed Raine to a shaded area beneath a large canopy near the beach, and they were settling in for the day.
“Who?” Raine glanced toward the boathouse and turned to Maggie. Her pale skin was translucent, paper-thin, and the smudges beneath her eyes shadowed a soft gray. Raine shrugged. “I didn’t think it mattered.”
Maggie turned away, rummaging through her bag for God knows what, but intent on looking busy. Occupied. Hard to do, when all she could focus on was the man who—she chanced a glance over her shoulder—was still looking in her direction. Her heart skipped a beat, and she knew she was blushing again.
Raine’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Maggie answered too quickly, and she took a second to settle her nerves. “I just thought it was going to be a quiet afternoon, is all.”
“Well, I don’t think we’re in for an orgy or anything, but if you want, I can check.”
Maggie’s head jerked up, and she laughed at the expression on Raine’s face. The young widow was teasing, and it was nice to see. There hadn’t been a whole lot of light moments in her life lately.
“It’s fine.” Maggie shook her head.
“If you say so…” Raine’s gaze lingered, and the scrutiny made Maggie uncomfortable. She turned from the woman and grabbed a book from her bag along with a bottle of sunblock. It was approaching noon and already hot as sin. Sweat pooled between her breasts, and the breeze that rushed along the water whispered across her skin.
She applied a generous amount of the coconut-scented lotion and tossed it back into the bag. Michael had been greased up as soon as they arrived.
“Raine, glad you came for the day.”
Maggie froze. Cain. His voice was low, the timbre electric, and her stomach lurched at the sound of it.
Raine smiled and glanced behind her. “I see you decided to stick around for a few days. Your mom must be thrilled.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know about thrilled, but it sure as hell feels good to be home. Been way too long.”
“Ya think?” Raine answered drily.
Maggie felt his attention like a stroke of heat across her flesh. Goose bumps spread along her arms. “How’s the head, Maggie? Your stitches giving you any problems?”
She ignored Raine’s arched brow and slowly turned around. Cain stood a few feet away, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.
The man sported a pair of black swim trunks that hung way too low on his hips. Did he do that on purpose? His chest and abs were perfection—this she already knew. She might have suffered one hell of a knock to the head, but the one clear image she remembered was of Cain. Her eyes wandered lower, to the “cut,” that indent low on the hips t
hat makes a woman’s mouth water.
Wrong thing to do. Heat pooled in her belly again, this time accompanied by a sharp stab of something she didn’t want to analyze. It left her flustered, and she was getting pretty damn sick of feeling off-kilter whenever Cain Black was around.
Stay above the neck.
Her face froze into a smile, or at least what was supposed to pass for a smile, and she shrugged. “I’m fine. Uh, everything is good…I…you know, slept and then my alarm…went off every couple of hours or so…”
Her cheeks darkened, and she glanced down at her toes. She sounded like a complete moron. What was it about the man that reduced her to a teenaged mess of awkwardness?
“Mom! Cain said he’d take me out on the boat later!” Michael’s excited voice broke the spell.
She cleared her throat and nodded. “That’s nice.”
Cain removed his glasses and flashed a smile. “We can all go for a ride. The weather’s perfect.”
“No,” she answered—a little too quickly—and winced at the note of panic in her voice. “I…” She smiled at Michael. “That’s fine. You go, sweetie. Mommy wants to relax today.”
Jake Edwards joined them, along with a tall, handsome blond man she recognized from the funeral. Jake’s expression was subdued and somewhat aloof. Maggie’s heart broke for the soldier. His loss was tattooed onto his soul, and there was no hiding his pain.
“Hey.” Jake’s gaze touched Raine before sliding to Maggie. “Glad you two could make it. I know my parents think a lot of you and your son.”
“Thank you.” She murmured. “It was nice of them to invite us for the day.”
“Cain, do you want to see my fishing rod? Mom bought it for me for getting six As on my report card! I haven’t tried it out yet.” They all turned to Michael, and he shuffled his feet. “Actually, I’ve never even been fishing before, so I don’t really know what to do.”
Cain glanced her way, but she kept her eyes focused on Michael.
The Summer He Came Home Page 6