Abby rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Whatever you say, Genevieve.”
Gen laughed. “Exactly!”
“I’m going to go get in line for coffee. Hold the table?”
“You know it.”
Abby crossed to the coffee line on shaking knees. It wasn’t that she’d had a sudden need for caffeine. She’d just needed a minute by herself to gather her thoughts.
She should be focused on the fact that Gen was on to her dirty little secret. She should be….what? Embarrassed? Nervous about who else Gen might mention it to? Anxious about what kind of gossip that nugget might blossom into?
Yes. Yes to all of that, and more.
But she wasn’t. Not yet, at least. Maybe all of that would hit her later, but for now, all her brain was capable of focusing on was replaying Gen’s words on a loop.
“You two are headed for the bone zone at some point. You two are headed for the bone zone at some point. You two are headed for the bone zone at some point.”
As much as she tried to push down and deny her feelings for Jet, even to herself, she couldn’t deny the thrill that filled her entire body at the thought of “going to the bone zone” with Jet Valentine.
Hell. She didn’t think “freaking epic” would even begin to cover it.
Chapter 3
Jet
“Goddamn it, this is just like him! He doesn’t even stop to think about how worried we’d be. He just bolts. Selfish.”
Jet stood outside the door of his childhood home and listened to the raised voices from within. That one had been Troy, his oldest brother.
“He’s been in a rough place since Mom and Dad died. You know that.”
Donovan. The protector. Donovan had always needed to make sure everyone was all right. Jet wasn’t surprised that, out of all of his siblings, D was the one who might stick up for him.
“It hasn’t been a picnic for the rest of us, either, bro. But none of us have blown up our lives and the lives of everyone around us.”
Oh, yeah. That was Gavin. The military man. He viewed things in black and white. To him, the world was rules and the excuses for breaking them were thin on the ground. His response was expected and, Jet had to be honest, warranted.
“But is he okay? I just want to know that he’s safe and okay!”
Oh, shit. That tear-filled, tremulous voice belonged to his kid sister, Mila. She was only….shit…was she thirteen already? Yeah.
God, he’d been wrapped up in himself. There were very few people in the world he loved in a way that was so pure, so unconditional, that he’d rather die than hurt them – but Mila topped that list. And, yet, his shitty behavior had made her cry.
Time to put an end to this. He manned up and rang the doorbell.
“Who could that be this late?” Troy’s voice hit his ears, but it was immediately overshadowed by Mila’s high-pitched squeal.
“I’ll get it! I’ll get it! Maybe it’s him!”
A quick pounding of feet sounded across the floor inside the house, and then the front door flung open and he looked into Mila’s tear-stained face.
Almost at once she launched herself into his arms. “I knew it was you! I knew you’d come here! I knew you wouldn’t let me worry about you like that!”
He squeezed her hard. “Of course not, kiddo. I’d never put you through that. I’m sorry you had to worry this long.”
She pulled back, her face split by a huge, sunny grin. “That’s okay! I’m just glad you’re here. Come in!”
He looked over her shoulder, meeting the faces of his brothers, which were considerably less sunny and were decidedly not wearing grins of any size.
He raised his eyebrows. When none of them responded, he said, “I don’t know, kid. It’s kind of late. I just wanted to check in. I should probably go start looking for a place to stay.”
Mila whirled around and spoke to Troy in a panicked tone. “No! Troy! He has to stay here. Tell Jet he has to stay here!”
Troy’s face softened when he looked into Mila’s eyes, and when he raised his gaze back to Jet’s, it was resigned. “Don’t be an idiot. Come in and drop your stuff.”
It might’ve been a half-hearted invitation, but by Jet’s reckoning, it was more than he deserved, and he was going to jump on it while he had the chance. He stepped in and set his duffel by the front door.
Fuck.
The sense memory of the hundreds of times that he’d done the same thing when coming home from music camp as a kid, coming home for the weekend from college, coming home to visit his parents in between tour dates…God, the sense of déjà vu was nearly overwhelming.
He heard his mother’s voice in his memory, the second step of this little coming home ritual. After his duffel bag thumped onto the floor in the entryway, her voice would echo through the house from wherever she happened to be. “Jet, honey? Is that you? Welcome home!”
The silence that greeted the thump now was deafening. The fact that he’d never again hear that familiar refrain when he walked in this house was a big reason that he’d avoided it.
But, no more. Avoiding his feelings was what had led to the shitstorm he was currently in. A shitstorm of his own making. It was time to start facing them instead.
Even if, like now, that caused a grief-cannon to hit his chest with such force that he had a hard time staying on his feet.
He was strong. He could handle it. He had to believe that.
And maybe, just maybe, he could make things up to his family. And then he wouldn’t have to handle it alone.
Sitting out on the back deck with his brothers, sipping beers and watching the moonlight reflect off of the dark ocean surface far below, Jet could almost fool himself into believing things were normal. It was only when he’d glance over at one of them that he’d notice the tense set of their jaw and shoulders, or the way they each studiously avoided his eyes.
The tension had been thick all through dinner, with the brothers maintaining civil tones for Mila’s sake.
Mila, for her part, seemed completely happy to see him, thrilled in fact, with the fear and tears she’d greeted him with earlier having completely evaporated. She was bubbly and laughing. Jet wasn’t sure if she didn’t sense the stretched-rubber-band tension between the adults, or – more likely – she was acting extra cheerful to compensate.
His theory was confirmed when, as soon as the plates were cleared, she’d all but shoved the four of them out onto the back deck, beers in hand. The deck-and-beer routine was one of the Valentine Brothers’ longstanding rituals, and perhaps she thought if she could get them doing something nostalgic together, their brotherly love would kick in and they’d work things out.
Hell, he kind of hoped that, himself. The issue seemed to be finding the right opening sentence. If he could just get the ball rolling, he was pretty sure they’d talk things out. But where to start?
Luckily, Troy took the lead, just like he usually did where the four of them were concerned. In a low tone, he said, “Well, Jet. How about you tell us what happened?”
Jet’s gut clenched. What he had to say wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. “My bandmates got fed up with my shit.”
His words were greeted with silence; he was going to have to elaborate. “I’ve been acting like a real jackass. To them, and to you guys, too. To pretty much everyone in my life. And now my chickens have come home to roost.”
Gavin turned to look at him. “Wow. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you talk that way.”
Almost afraid to hear the answer, Jet asked, “What way?”
Gavin shrugged. “Humble. Accepting responsibility.”
Jet took a deep breath. “Well, I’m not going to let it be the last. I have a lot of changes to make in my life. A lot of ground to make up for. I’m taking this time to do that.”
Donovan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Glad to hear it. I think that’s a good idea.”
“Yeah,” Troy agreed. “It’s great. I’m glad, man.”
>
“We’re here if you need us,” Gavin added.
Jet took a deep breath. It was like a tight band had loosened around his chest, allowing him to breathe freely again.
“Damn, guys. Thanks for that. I was kind of freaked out to come here. I wasn’t exactly sure if I’d be welcome.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Troy said.
“Yeah. You’re our brother. It doesn’t matter how big an asshole you are, we’ll always be here for you,” Donovan added. He broke into a grin. “But, damn, it’s a lot easier when you’re not being an asshole at all.”
Gavin wrapped up the sentiments. “We’re not mad at you, Jet. We just want to see change. Real change.”
Jet nodded. “That’s what I want, too.”
“Good.”
Troy yawned and stretched an arm over his head. “Shit. That’s my cue. I hate to break up this little party, but I have to be up at four-thirty tomorrow.”
Gavin and Donovan stood up, and so did Jet.
Shit. Since things are going so well with my first goal, he thought, might as well take a shot on the second.
Feigning nonchalance, he said, “Since I’m in town, I thought I might take the opportunity to catch up with some old friends.”
“She owns a wine shop downtown,” Gavin responded, pretty much immediately.
“What?”
“Dude, don’t even try.” Donovan chuckled.
“Yeah, we know exactly which old friend you’re interested in seeing,” Troy added, punching him lightly on the shoulder.
Jet laughed. He wouldn’t bother pretending. Standing up and setting his beer down, he said, “Well, damn. If I’m going to make it there before closing, I’d better start walking.”
Chapter 4
Abby
Abby placed wine bottles on the shelf, one after the other, and marked them down on her inventory sheet as she completed each section. Usually, she relished this task. Filling her shop with exciting new varietals to share with customers gave her a thrill every time. She generally buzzed with excitement while she unloaded, imagining the descriptions and details that she’d share with people when they asked for recommendations.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight, she was simply going through the motions. Ever since she’d seen the news item about Jet, and especially since finding out that even his own family was worried about his whereabouts, her mind had been occupied with little else.
God, where could he be? Was he all right? Oh, God forbid…could he have done something stupid to himself?
Her brain spun with terrible possibilities, unbidden by conscious thoughts. It wasn’t that she indulged in the morbid fantasies; it was more like they thrusted themselves on her without her permission.
She couldn’t wait for this night to be over so that she could close up the shop, go home to her bed, change into her pajamas and slippers, and curl up with a glass of wine and Netflix, which was the best way she knew how to escape the stresses of the day.
It was almost time. She glanced at her watch at the same time that the bell over the front door chimed, signaling that someone had entered the shop.
Cool, this should be the last customer. AKA, the only person standing in between me, a nice chard, and an episode of The Crown!
She grabbed the now-empty crate she’d taken the bottles out of to load the shelves and headed to the front. As she walked, she called out cheerfully, “Hi, there! What can I help—?”
When her eyes landed on the person who’d just walked through the door, and then locked onto his, she froze.
It was Jet, and oh holy mother of rock star, did he look every bit as sexy as she remembered. His shaggy black hair and two-day shadow were perfectly engineered to look as if they hadn’t been engineered at all, and his faded vintage T-shirt hugged his arms, pecs, and abs just enough to show off the Adonis-like V-shape that his shoulders formed leading down to his waist.
Best of all, though…oh my God, yes, still the best of all…were his piercing blue eyes. They were the color of the ocean on Mykonos. She’d gone to that gorgeous island when she’d studied abroad in college, and the vibrant hue of the water had sent an ache of missing Jet through her entire body.
And now, years later, here she was, looking into those eyes again.
The world seemed to slow and still, a preternatural silence enveloping her in its grasp. It was clear and perfect, like fragile spun glass – and it only lasted for a moment until it was shattered by the loud clatter of the heavy crate falling to the floor.
That startled her out of her trance and she jumped and stumbled backward.
A vision went through her mind of herself in that moment. She saw her hand reaching out to catch herself before she fell to the ground, grasping at a shelf, and then falling to the ground anyway but bringing thousands of dollars’ worth of wine crashing down around her at the same time, leaving nothing to do but stare up at Jet Valentine from a sopping puddle of spreading liquid.
The whole thing raced through her mind in a flash, but with enough clarity that it caused her to summon the iron will to right herself before she tumbled ass over teakettle.
Not in front of Jet. Never in front of Jet.
She got her feet under her with as much subtlety as she could manage, which she had to admit wasn’t a whole lot.
A small smile played on his lips. “You okay, there, Abs?”
Ignoring his question, she kept her tone airy and casual as she said, “Oh, Jet. Long time no see. How are you?”
His shoulders slumped. “I’m pretty fucking shitty, to tell you the truth.”
Her heart jumped at his dejected air, and she had the urge to throw her arms around him, take his pain away, hold him close to her until he felt halfway human again.
But that was so not their dynamic.
She gave her voice a teasing edge. “Oh, did Maserati not come out with a color you like in their new lineup? I can only imagine what kind of hell rock star problems must be like.”
He looked up, surprise flashing in his eyes. “Shit. Don’t you know what happened?”
Of course she did, but she tilted her head to the side and wrinkled her brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Well…I mean, it’s been all over entertainment news all day today. I don’t think there’s been even one gossip blog that hasn’t posted about it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. I have better things to do with my time than sit around searching the internet for tidbits about you.”
Oh, please, please, please God, never let him see my search history!
His eyes roamed the interior of the shop. “I can see that. This place is beautiful. You’ve created something really special here, Abby.”
She stood silently, waiting for the follow up quip, for the little dig of one-upmanship.
It never came. It seemed he was sincere. A flush crept up her neck and invaded her cheeks. She spun to face the display behind her, not wanting to let him see that little glimmer of weakness.
“Well,” she said, and then had to clear her throat before she could start again. She took a deep breath. “Well, I was just about to close. How about I lock up and you can come in the back with me and taste some of my Private Reserve selections?”
A wolfish grin grew on his face, and his eyes glinted. Her ass almost hit the floor, despite her earlier Herculean efforts to stay on her feet.
“Abby,” he said, his throaty voice low and sexy, “There is nothing in this world I’d rather do right now than taste your Private Reserve.”
Chapter 5
Jet
As Abby perused the wine in the storeroom, Jet sat on the stool she’d offered him and watched her elegant fingers skim the necks of the bottles. God, every time her hands moved over one of them, his breath caught in his throat. He imagined what it’d be like to be one of those bottles right now.
He shook his head to clear the image. Attempting to distract himself, he did what he normally did when he was arou
nd Abby – teased her.
“So, you’re honestly telling me you don’t even have one news alert set up to keep tabs on me since I became a big rock star?”
She turned to face him, eyes twinkling with mischief. “See, I don’t see you as a rock star. I just see you as”—a wicked grin grew on her face—“Jet Valentine, salutatorian.”
He groaned. “Oh, man. You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Now, wait. Who was valedictorian again? It’s so hard to remember these things.”
He snorted. “Unless someone won’t let you forget.”
Continuing on as if he hadn’t spoken, she put a finger in the air, as if she’d just had an epiphany. “Oh! That’s right! It was me. I was the valedictorian.”
“You beat me by less than a tenth of a grade point.”
“You could’ve ended that sentence after ‘you beat me’ and still have been just as accurate. Hey, you know what? They came up with a word for coming in second. Know what it is?”
“What?” He knew he was being set up, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to go along with it. She was just so fucking adorable when she was feisty.
“Losing!”
Jet studied her face, still shining from laughing at her own joke, and lifted his hand to her face. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in her breath.
His own breath was suspended as he gently, so very gently, trailed his fingertips along her jaw. Her skin was so soft and smooth, exactly as he’d always imagined it would be. And it was warm, as well. Again, exactly as he’d always imagined it would be.
What was a surprise, though, was the explosion of electricity that burst through his fingertips at just that simple contact. It almost knocked him right off his feet.
Of course, he’d always known that touching her would feel incredible, but he’d never imagined that even a slight, feather-light brush of his fingers against her skin would be powerful enough to nearly take him out.
Rocking Her Heart Page 2