Bassist Instinct (The Rocker Series #2)

by Vanessa Lennox

  “That’s not where you got arrested, was it?” Piper asked and Connor laughed.

  “Well…Almost, but not quite,” Connor said. “That’s another story for another night. And for the record, we were never formally charged with anything.” Ryan pointed at Connor and grinned.

  “The Berlin story’s quite funny, too, but there was less nudity,” Ryan said.

  “Only because you were dressed, the rest of us weren’t,” Tate said.

  “I was dressed… mostly,” Connor said. Ryan rolled his eyes.

  “The fedora,” he said and everyone laughed. “We get to Amsterdam, and the Americans had just about done with us…with them, and well, it was Amsterdam. They pissed off to find the next free ride,” Ryan said.

  “Ryan, they were lovely, what crawled up your arse?” Tate defended them.

  “It was past time for them to go, they were getting bored,” Ryan said. “They started harassing poor wee Razz.”

  “I don’t remember that,” Tate said. Ryan barked out a laugh.

  “You don’t even remember their names, mate,” Ryan said. Tate grinned.

  “Sure I do,” he said but then suddenly realized he didn’t. “The one with Con was…” he looked at Connor for help.

  “Michelle,” Connor said.

  “Aye, that’s it, Michelle and Barbara,” Tate made a stab in the dark.

  “Brenda, man. She called herself Brenda Starr after the comic strip,” Connor said.

  “It was a long time ago, I’d forgotten,” Tate said.

  Christie clucked at him disapprovingly.

  “I treated her right for nearly two weeks that summer, am I expected to remember everything?”

  “What was the name of the girl who left your bed this morning, Tate-o?” Christie asked. He looked across the room at her. He had no idea what her name was, and Christie bloody well knew it. He considered making up a name, but Christie was not the kind of person to be unkind for no reason, she was making a point, and he let her. They held eye contact for a whole minute while the others sat waiting in the uncomfortable silence. Tate had the unpleasant feeling that Christie was warning him off of wee Fiona Brooks, and that was not something he wanted.

  “So, Amsterdam, you all know it, there’s the one river and a bunch of canals, and thousands of bridges.” Ryan was trying to move them off of the subject of Tate and his myriad of women. “Apparently those bridges are much easier to fall off when you’ve had a skinfull.”

  “And when you’re walking on the handrail in the rain,” Tate said. Everyone looked at him like he was indeed an eejit, but he put his hand up. “I wasn’t walking on the handrail in the rain, the mad Dutch girl was. She got locked out of her flat…naked, so naturally I introduced myself and we hit it off. We finished whatever it was she was drinking, and before I knew it we were both naked and on the bloody bridge in the rain. She was standing on the rail, bending over, balancing herself by holding my hair one minute, the next minute she was gone, vanished, with a handful of my hair, I might add. Then I heard the splash.”

  “As it so often happens, we were coming the other way on the bridge,” Ryan said. “There’s Tate, naked as a rock star in Amsterdam for the first time, peering over the railing at the water. Razz doesn’t swim, but he was the only sober one out of the four of us. Well, he was more sober than the rest of us, I should say. He says: ‘Christ, the poor lassie’s done for if you don’t all go in after her!’ And as we were all shitfaced, it sounded reasonable, so we all strip down and jump.”

  “It’s dark, the water was bloody cold, and we were all right rubbered,” Connor said.

  “We couldn’t find her,” Ryan pipes in again. “Then we hear Razz on the bridge laughing at us. ‘She was out by the time you got naked, lads, come on out and let’s go back to the bus.’ The bastard.” They are all smiling at the memory.

  “We call him all the bad names we can think of in our inebriated state and discover that it won’t be easy getting out of the river without stepping on someone’s wee houseboat first,” Ryan said.

  “And we hadn’t exactly been stealthy up to that point,” Connor added with a smile.

  “The three of us climb onto the same boat, tipping it wildly on its side, and a toothless old hag wearing a black watch cap greets us with her elephant gun. We’re all freezing, holding our privates ‘till she says ‘Put your hands up.’” Tate explained and everyone laughed. “We have no recourse but to comply, sharpish.” Connor, Tate and Ryan raised their hands in the Fleming’s living room as if they’d told this story many times.

  “The old hag points her gun at Ryan and says ‘You’re the only one who brought your pecker to the party,’” Connor said in an old hag voice.

  “It disappeared as soon as the words were out of her mouth, I don’t mind telling you,” Ryan said and the room erupted in laughter. “She points at Con next and says ‘It’ll have to be you then,’ and we all three jump as one, back into the water and swim to the other side of the Amstel as fast as we can and into the welcome embrace of the local constabulary.”

  “Razz actually injured himself laughing on the bridge. He heard the whole thing with the wee old hag and practically pissed himself laughing,” Tate said.

  “At least he brought our clothes,” Ryan said.

  “He didn’t bring my clothes, God knows where they ended up,” Tate said to more laughter.

  “So, what happened to your pecker, Tate-o?” Christie asked mischievously.

  “I told you, the water was bloody cold,” he said to more laughter.

  ***

  “I wish I could run the movie of your life back and watch it, Connor,” Genna said lying in his arms later that night. She felt him laugh and she looked up at his face. “I wouldn’t give up a moment of my time with Rick, but I would have liked to have known you then.” He kissed her.

  “My sweet Genna. I was not the man I am today, I wouldn’t have deserved you. Christ, I don’t deserve you now.” She dismissed his words.

  “Do you miss anything in particular from those days?”

  “Yes, it might be hard to explain because my life is so perfect now. It was all so new and exciting. It was the first time I’d left Ireland at all, hell, it was the first time I’d left Dublin. And the first time we played for anyone but the Irish, and Genna, they loved us. I could reach down into the audience and grab a lass and bring her on stage with me without the stadium security getting all tetchy about it. I could see the faces in the crowd and connect with them. I think it’s why I like the karaoke so much, I like it intimate.” She laughed a husky, sexy laugh.

  “I know you do,” she said running her fingers down the center of his chest.

  “Christ Genna, you turn me on like a bloody switch,” his mouth closed over hers.

  Chapter Three

  “’Lo,” Tate said into the phone the next morning.

  “Is she gone?” Christie asked.

  “Who?” He asked, still sleepy. Christie paused for a minute.

  “That’s the first time you asked me that. Whoever. You don’t have the professor in there with you, do you?” She asked appalled.

  “No Christie, I’m alone, there’s no one here. I slept alone,” he grumbled.

  “Are you ill?”

  “No, thank you very much for asking. Why are you calling?” He asked getting irritated.

  “You asked me to call you, you gobshite,” she said and laughed. Tate sat up and grabbed his clock.

  “Bugger, I’ll be late. Thanks, love,” he slammed the phone down and ran to the shower.

  Christie chuckled and turned to Ryan. “He slept alone last night,” she said.

  “Give the man a break lamb, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Ryan said. “That woman has him by the bollox, and no mistake.” He grinned.

  “What was Tess thinking? I hope she’s not too angry,” Christie said cuddling up against her husband.

  “Our Tess knew exactly what she was doing, starting with asking Tate to lay off.
She knew he couldn’t help himself. The lassie’s up to something. I, for one, will enjoy watching it unfold,” Ryan said and pulled his wife back on to him. “If we’re quiet, the wee mannies won’t wake for a bit.” They both looked over at the crib where both boys lay inert, and grinned at each other.

  “I love you, Ryan O’Brian,” she said softly.

  “God knows why, but I am a better man for it,” he reached up and brought her head to his and kissed her deeply.

  ***

  Fiona showered, put a pot of coffee on and took more Advil. Her knee started bothering her at the table the night before and despite the walking last night, it was still a little stiff. She should go for a ride before Tate came. Oh right, before Sam Gooding came, he’d be there first.

  She ended up in front of her piano, instead, and played until the doorbell rang when she stopped and closed the cover over the keys.

  She opened the door and looked at the man who stood there with a backpack on his shoulder. He was the fittest person she had ever seen, he reminded her of Edgar from last night. They both had the same forceful stance and assuredness. Like Edgar, Sam was also bald as an egg, but his skin was much darker. He looked the color of fine dark chocolate, his cheekbones were astonishingly high, and his dark rimmed eyes had the prettiest eyelashes she’d ever seen. He was a beautiful specimen of manhood.

  “You must be Sam,” she said stepping back to let him in, but he didn’t move, he was waiting for something. “Oh, I mean, may I see some identification?” He smiled and she was knocked back from it. He was stunning. His straight white teeth looked even whiter in contrast to his dark skin, and he had a dimple on one side of his mouth which was adorable.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said and she gave him a glare. “I mean, Fiona.” She smiled back at him, she could play, too. He pulled out his wallet and opened it and then took his driver’s license out and handed it to her. She looked at it carefully and handed it back.

  “You are exactly a foot taller than I am, you can change the batteries in my smoke alarms while you’re here,” she said and he smiled again and stepped into her house.

  “Was that you playing?” He asked gesturing to the piano.

  “Oh yes, I do that a lot, but if it’s a problem, I can go on campus…”

  “It’s no problem, it was beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” she said. He looked at the piano.

  “Where’s the sheet music?”

  “There’s some in the bench if you want to play, help yourself,” she said.

  “Where’s the sheet music for the piece you were just playing?”

  “Oh, I wasn’t using any, but it’s probably in there somewhere,” she pointed at the bench. “Or in a box in the basement,” she grinned. “Do you play?”

  “A little ragtime, my mom made me take lessons. But I don’t play like that,” he said thinking of the music she’d just played.

  “Well good for your mom. I love ragtime, it always reminds me of ‘The Sting,’ a great movie. I have some Joplin in the bench, I think, feel free to fool around with it, I’m not touchy about sharing the piano.”

  “I’d be embarrassed after hearing you play,” he said.

  “Don’t be too impressed, it’s just what I do.” She waved at the piano. “Anyway, I wasn’t born being able to play, at one point I was pretty horrible; piano teachers cringed when I walked in the room.” She lied, but it was worth it to hear his laugh, and she smiled at him. It was a rich sweet sound. “Let me show you where your room is,” she said and went upstairs leaving him to follow.

  “This is your bathroom,” she pointed at a closed door. “The laundry’s in here,” she opened a door next to the bathroom. “And here is your room. Help yourself to food, or whatever. I’d rather you not smoke in the house,” she said.

  “I don’t smoke,” he said. She nodded. “Are you really Liam McBride’s sister?”

  “Yes, why?” She laughed a little.

  “You don’t favor each other, and you’re a lot more trusting than he is,” Sam said.

  “Well, we have different mothers, his was tall and blonde; mine wasn’t. As for the trust thing, maybe that’s learned behavior,” she shrugged. “He sure trusts you.”

  “He must if he sent me here,” he said wondering how this lovely little woman was so trusting. He was a big scary man, and she was standing three feet away from a bed, and she didn’t know him at all. He shook his head.

  “He sent you here, huh?” She said and his face went instantly blank.

  “He suggested you as a haven of sorts,” he recovered.

  “Hmm, well, there’s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, follow your nose. Help yourself to whatever,” she smiled at him. There was a knock at the door and she jumped a little, her eyes got big.

  “Is everything okay? Are you nervous about something?” He asked.

  “Yeah, I’m just going to have coffee with this guy,” she said. “Are you all set?”

  “He makes you nervous?”

  “No, uh, well, yes, a little, I guess,” she said a little embarrassed. She bit her lip and tried not to blush.

  “Call my number if he gives you any trouble, I’ll come running,” he said and she laughed.

  “You’re very sweet, but he won’t, that’s not really his style, I don’t think,” she said and walked out of the guest room and down the stairs. “But I don’t know, I only met him yesterday. Your key’s on the table here. See you later.” She opened the door. “Hi.”

  “Hi yourself,” Tate said and kissed her cheek. She closed the door behind her and they walked away from the house. Tate took her hand as they reached the street. “Have you got a favorite coffee shop in town?” She nodded.

  “I do,” she said.

  “I have one request,” he said turning to her. He looked like he was going to ask her a huge favor and she stepped back but he squeezed her hand in his.

  “Okay.” She waited for it.

  “That we avoid the crêpe place,” he said and she gave him a curious look.

  “They make really great crêpes,” she said.

  “That’s where Connor and the rest of them are, I’d rather have you to myself for a bit. In the relative privacy of an anonymous coffeehouse,” he shrugged. “Unless, of course, you’d rather.”

  “No, I don’t mind at all. They are lovely folks, don’t get me wrong,” she started.

  “They certainly like you,” he said looking at her and smiling. “Every single one of them told me to keep my filthy paws from you. That’s when the twins started barking. It seems to be their new form of communication. Before the barking they had a few words, like ‘don’t’ and ‘no,’ but now it’s all barking and growling. Mind you, they still make their wishes known, it’s kind of fascinating,” he grinned and she thought he was the cutest man she’d ever met. He had dimples and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and again, such a great accent. Funny, her father had the same accent, but on him it wasn’t compelling at all.

  “So, crêpes are off the menu, I think I can handle that,” she smiled and they walked toward the coffee shop hand in hand.

  ***

  “She hasn’t got a half ounce of sense, has she, Liam?” Sam Gooding asked his friend.

  “What’d she do now?” Liam asked resigned.

  “Well, she let me in, for one thing,” he said.

  “Well, it’s those cheekbones; you are very pretty,” Liam said.

  “You think you’re funny. She didn’t look at my ID, and when I forced her to she looked at my height. My height, man. She noticed that I’m a foot taller than she is. Are you adopted? She’s a foot shorter than you, too. She’s minute. She called me sweet! Sweet! Anyway, then she gave me a key and she left with some guy she only met yesterday who makes her nervous,” he exhaled loudly into the phone.

  “Oh God, not a Grungie?”

  “A what?”

  “Worst case scenario it’s Tate Dylan of the Bubblin’ Grungies trying to get into her pants. Slim blond gu
y? Maybe forty five?”

  “Yeah, that’s him,” Sam said. “He’s with the Grungies, huh? I thought he’d be bigger, but the man moves like a snake, he could be trouble if he wanted to be.” Sam assessed his potential foe.

  “I’ve moved up my departure time, I’m not getting anything done here, and she’s next on this asshole’s list, I know it. Now with Dylan sniffing after her…dammit. I’ll text you when I’m wheels down in DC.”

  “Okay. And don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on your little sister,” Sam said.

  “Thanks man,” Liam said. “If anybody can it’s you.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ but a thang,” Sam said and touched his screen to end the call and followed the unsuspecting couple down Wisconsin Ave.

  ***

  “This is a bookstore,” Tate said.

  “This half is, the other half is a coffee shop.” Fiona smiled at him. “My favorite coffee shop. It’s my favorite bookstore, too.” They walked into the other side of the shop and waited on line.

  “Hi Fiona, what’ll it be?” The barista asked her and then turned to smile at Tate. She did a double take and looked at him closely. “You look familiar.”

  “I’ll have a tall latte, and whatever he’s having,” she turned to Tate who had his hand on his face again, and he was looking down.

  “I’ll have the same,” he said and she thought he sounded just like any American she’d ever heard. He pulled money out of his pocket and put it on the counter and stepped back, turning his face away from the barista.

  “Are you okay? Do you know her or something?” Fiona asked with her eyes wide.

  “Her? No. Look, Fi, I’ll find us a quiet table to go…”

  “Hide?” She said. “You’re freaking me out, Tate, you’re acting weird. Did you rob the bank next door?” He chuckled.

  “I know, and I’m sorry,” he tucked her hair behind an ear and smiled at her. “I’ll come clean soon enough, I’m just enjoying myself for a rare change.”