by Piper Lawson
Grace had responded to Haley’s text and let me take Annie for the day, which had left me both surprised and pleased.
Now I’m thinking Haley and I should’ve taken a detour first.
“What do you think?” I murmur.
Haley screws up her face, tapping a finger on her full lips. “No columns. Annie?”
The kid makes the same face as Haley, nodding. “No columns.”
I think something’s wrong with my chest. It shouldn’t feel this tight hearing two girls talk about architecture.
The realtor meets us at the door.
Annie goes first, her braid bobbing down her back as she lifts her chin to look around the vaulted ceilings.
Haley looks only slightly less awed. “It didn’t look this big in the listing. You could renovate one room every month and never run out.”
“Of things to saw.”
“Or wallpaper.” Haley grins.
“It’s like you’ve made it your job to keep my ego in check.”
“Someone’s got to.”
The master could hold a small army. The en suite is marble with a soaker tub and a glassed-in shower. While Haley inspects the bathroom, Annie wanders off down the hall.
“What do you need a bench in the shower for?” Haley drops onto it, and I step closer. Her gaze is level with the zipper of my jeans, and she raises her chin with a startled look.
“To keep my ego in check,” I repeat with a grin. I’m liking this place more and more.
I can see the wheels turn in her head. “Is that what a blowjob is really about? Ego?”
I shrug. “Depends who you ask. Some people would say it’s about power. I say call it what it is: a really good fucking time.”
She cocks her head. “Is it? I’ve never done that before.”
I think I bite off my tongue.
The possibility that I could be the only man to have her gorgeous lips wrapped around me had never occurred to me. Now, it’s the only thing I want in this world.
My thumb brushes her lower lip before pressing at the center. The softness of her skin, the damp heat of her mouth, has my voice dropping an octave. “I’m a good teacher.”
Before she can respond, a shriek makes my blood run cold.
“Annie? Honey, where are you?”
I stalk toward the hall and pull up at a door. Haley bumps into my back. Annie’s in the middle of a room that’s pale purple.
“This is my room,” she decides, spreading her arms as if she could touch the walls. “Haley, your room’s the next one.” She crooks a finger, beckoning us to follow her next door.
Haley dutifully follows her in.
“I dunno if there’s enough space to put all your computer crap,” I say. “But your Betty Boop clock could go right there.” I nod toward one wall. “Next to your poster of me,” I add with a smirk.
“Right?” Annie shoots me an exaggerated wink from the other side of the room. “Haley, what’s a Betty Boob clock?”
I shake my head as Haley steps closer.
“I’ve been here a day, and you’re asking me to move in with you?” she jokes under her breath.
“Mostly I’m angling for that blowjob.”
I swear her eyes darken three shades.
“Well?” the realtor calls, breaking the spell.
“I’ll take it.”
Annie squeals.
“Wonderful! Let me show you the tennis courts.”
I brush past him. “I don’t play.”
After we drop Annie off, I drive back to the hotel, my fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
Haley sighs out a breath, nestled in the passenger seat like she belongs there.
“You’re the best dad, Jax Jamieson,” she says as we pull up at a light.
The back of my throat burns. “Thanks, Hales.”
“It sucks that she doesn’t even know it. When are you going to tell her you’re her father?”
I shoot her a look. “Grace and I agreed not to. But if I have to fight for her, I will.”
“For what it’s worth, I think the truth is always better. Even if it screws things up.”
“You don’t regret finding out about Cross.”
She considers. “No. This summer, I found myself thinking I wish I’d known sooner because maybe I would’ve felt less alone. But then I realized being alone is good sometimes. Because no matter what happens, there are times in your life when all you have is you. And you’ve got to learn to have your own back.”
How she got so smart I have no idea, but I’m reminded how far ahead of me she is. “You want kids someday?”
I’m really curious. More curious than I was to see the house today, though I can’t put my finger on why.
“I’m not sure. I know my mom’s gone and my dad was AWOL, but kids can surprise you. They can end up screwed up for no reason or amazing for no reason.”
“Ain’t that the truth of it.”
A song comes on the radio. Lita’s band.
I sing along, and Haley looks surprised. “What happened to ‘Jax Jamieson doesn’t do covers’?”
“I’m in the privacy of my own car. Besides,” I grudgingly admit, “she’s good.”
“I know. I heard her recording the other day.”
“What?” I slam on the brakes, and Haley sucks in a breath. “When were you going to tell me you were at Wicked?”
She shoots me a guilty look. “Cross didn’t submit my letter of reference because I left the tour early. He agreed to help me get back into school on the condition I spend this semester working at Wicked.”
I pull over to the side of the road, throw the car in park, and spin to face her. “No. I don’t like this, Hales. You should be in school. Not in that man’s debt.”
“I’m keeping my options open,” she corrects. “I’m going to get back into school no matter what. At least this way, if nothing else works, he’ll write me the letter and I’ll be back in next semester. In the meantime, I’m working. Saving up money. Submitting my program to this competition.
“He’s not part of my life, and he doesn’t want to be. He brought me in to assess me, and apparently he found me wanting.”
Part of me wants to reach for her. Instead I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “Hales. You should’ve told me.”
“I was a tech on your tour. We were ships passing.”
There’s hurt in her voice, and I hate that I put it there.
There’s a difference between control and power. Control is about directing your own life. Setting up the circumstances you interact with so things work out the way you want them to.
I’ve always wanted control.
I never wanted power. Power is mindless. It has no end. It exists to tempt and corrupt and enthral.
I don’t want to have the power to hurt her. Because I don’t want to hurt her, and because it means she can hurt me too.
Which is why I can’t throw myself over the edge with her.
I need to look after myself and my kid, and for some reason I feel the need to look after Haley.
But I can’t look after her if I’m falling for her.
“I need to show you something,” she says before I can respond.
She shifts and pulls a scrap of paper from her pocket. I take it, scanning the handwriting.
My handwriting. “How’d you get this?”
“I found it on the floor of a diner on tour. I should’ve given it back, but I couldn’t bring myself to. The second I read it, I knew it was a love song. And it’s beautiful.”
The paper’s worn, like it’s been folded and unfolded a million times.
I set it on the dashboard and shove a hand through my hair. “I’m never cutting another album.”
“What if you change your mind?”
“I won’t.”
I like how much respect she has for my work. Not because she can make money off it or because she wants to suck up.
Because she just loves it.
“You
can keep the song. And if you really want my unedited cuts for your program? They’re yours.” Her jaw drops. “I keep backups on a server. I can get you a drive before you leave.”
Her eyes turn the color of melted chocolate. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of them.”
11
Haley
Serena: You coming home at a normal time tonight?
* * *
Haley: By midnight for sure.
* * *
Serena: That’s three nights in a row. Tell me you haven’t given up on men and fallen in love with a computer in the basement.
* * *
Haley: Definitely not.
* * *
Serena: Good. Because the weak ass excuses you’ve given me since getting back aren’t going to fly. I’m making popcorn tonight, and you’re acting out every part of your weekend with Jax.
* * *
I got back from Dallas to an email saying half the computers at Wicked had caught a virus. I’ve spent every waking hour there since trying to get the systems patched and updates installed.
By Wednesday night, we’re finally back up and running.
I finish up at Wicked and go home. Sure enough, Serena’s parked on the couch with a notepad.
She waited up for me. And I owe her.
She slides tortoiseshell glasses onto her face as I shut the door behind me and drop my bag on the floor.
“Since when do you wear glasses?” I ask as I drop onto the couch across from her.
“Since they look super cute on me.” She slides them down her nose. “First is the multiple choice. Then we’ll get to the short answer and eventually the essay.”
“Is this a midterm or a conversation?”
“The former. Let’s get started. Did you and Jax have sex? Yes or no, please.”
If I had any hope of flying under the radar, it’s gone now. I see it in her eyes. She’ll bludgeon me with persistence until I cave.
Which is why I answer, “Yes.”
“More than once?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.” Her eyes gleam. “Okay, equipment.”
“I’m not describing his dick to you.”
“How big is it?” She waits. “Blink once for small, multiple times for big.”
I blink. And keep blinking.
“Now the bonus round. Did he go down on you?”
“Serena—”
“This is important.” Her gaze narrows, but I refuse to look away.
“He tried,” I say under my breath. “I ripped his hair out of his head when I shoved him away.”
Serena chokes on a laugh. “What the hell?! Was he that bad?”
“No! It just freaked me out. It’s like a guy’s having a conversation with the wrong end of you.”
My roommate dissolves into fits, holding her stomach. “Oh my God, Haley. And he still had sex with you after that?”
“Yeah.” I sigh.
She stares at me like she’s trying to read the answer from my pores. “You came,” she accuses at last. “You came so hard.”
“SERENA!”
“I told you he’d be better than Carter.”
“I don’t know how Carter is.”
And I don’t want to. All I can think about is Jax.
Not only was the sex something I’d never expected to experience in my lifetime, but house hunting with him didn’t help me keep my cool.
I’d always known Jax was incredible.
I never expected him to be so real.
It’s the realness that’s killing me.
I’m not sure I can ever go back to college guys. Jax is such a… well… man. Not only his body, though God, he’s in terrific shape, but the way he looks at me. The way he looks at everything. Like he knows who he is and what he can do and takes responsibility for himself in the world.
“So how did you leave things?” she asks.
“It’s casual,” I say, though the word feels completely wrong for describing anything that’s ever happened between me and Jax. “He still has to come to Philly sometimes. And he said he’d pay for my travel if I come to visit him.”
“He’s paying you for booty calls!?”
I hold up a hand. “I told him no way. To the paying part, not the visiting part.”
As my phone buzzes, Serena leans toward it. “Is that him?”
“No. It’s…” My brows pull together. “Kyle.”
“Who’s Kyle? Wait, is this a fourth boyfriend?”
“No. Kyle Lithgow. The drummer for Riot Act.”
“Why’s he texting you?”
The answer becomes obvious.
* * *
Kyle: Lita gave me your number. I wanted to talk to you about making an album.
* * *
“What the… since when are you Dr. Dre?”
* * *
Haley: Sure. On the phone?
* * *
Kyle: I’m in Philly. Can we meet? Tomorrow?
* * *
“This is weird. I mean, Kyle’s cool, but it’s not like we’re tight or—”
“This Kyle?” Serena holds up her phone, and I squint at the search engine image results.
“Yup. Where should I meet him?”
“The café,” she says so fast my brows shoot up.
I get to the café after work at Wicked, and Serena insists on coming too. Kyle, Mace, and Lita swing in the door at the same time.
I introduce them, and we get back to the subject at hand.
“We want to do another album,” Kyle says, his gaze lingering a little too long on Serena. “Jax is out, but we’re still in.”
Lita leans forward. “You know Cross.”
I frown. “He won’t even let me work on your album.”
Kyle shifts in his seat. “I know you guys have a… relationship. Maybe you could talk to him.”
“I didn’t know that was public knowledge”—I shoot Lita a look, and she winces—“but still… you guys would make a great album. I know it. But I have zero pull.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”
Their pleading faces make me sigh. “The thing is marketing’s downsizing and everyone’s way behind. Plus, there’s no money in albums, right? It’s all in touring.”
“The money doesn’t fucking matter.” Mace’s explosion has us all turning toward him.
“What my colleague means to say”—Kyle claps his friend on the shoulder with a warning look—“is that our needs are more modest than Jax’s. If Jax wants to stop being a rock star, that’s his deal. We need a way to keep doing it.”
I turn it over in my head, but it’s Serena who leans in. “You could release singles. Build a story, like an album but one piece at a time.”
“Thanks, Jay-Z,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. “But Cross won’t go for it. If I talk to him, he’ll be less likely to say yes, not more.”
Mace shoves out of his chair before I can take another breath.
“Just try, okay?” Kyle asks, a pleading look on his face before he trails his bandmate out the door.
12
Haley
“Hi, Hales.”
There’s nothing better than answering the phone when Jax Jamieson is on the other end.
Oh, wait. There is, and it’s answering a video call to find not only his gorgeous face and smirk on the other end, but damp hair curling at his ears and a tantalizing glimpse of bare shoulders and pecs.
“Why are you shirtless?”
“Just practicing for an underwear campaign.”
Two emotions slam into me in quick succession. The first is lust. The second might be jealousy.
“Seriously?”
“Nah. Just got back from a swim and got out of the shower.”
Now I’m picturing his hard body cutting through the water. That’s way less distracting.
“What’re you doing?”
“Ducked out of Wicked to work on my program.” I shift on my bed, shoving my hair out of my face. “Carter gave me so
me feedback. Now I’m even running some of Lita’s songs through the program to make suggestions. Thanks again for your data.”
“Ouch. I have fifteen Billboard top tens, and all I am to you is data?”
“Not only data. But also data,” I say helpfully.
His amber gaze narrows. “I think what you really want is me telling you I spent the whole call with my agent yesterday staring at the balcony and picturing what it’d be like to fuck you on it.”
I nearly drop the phone.
I close the bedroom door before shifting back on my bed, pulling my knees up to my chest. Serena’s outside, and if she heard that, I’m never going to see the end of it.
“That’s very specific,” I say.
His mouth twitches, like maybe he knows it took me every ounce of courage to respond. “I bet you’re wet just thinking about it.”
Jax’s smooth voice gets rough, and if I wasn’t before, I am now.
Sex with Jax last weekend made me realize how much I have to learn. That part wasn’t a surprise.
The surprising part was how much I want to.
I was afraid I might regret it. I don’t. But I’m thinking about this whole other world that experienced rock stars know that I’ve never considered. A world where you can say as much with your bodies as with your words.
“Show me,” he says.
“What?”
“Show me how wet you are.”
I suck in a breath.
It’s as if Jax is constantly feeling out my comfort zone. He walks around it, taking it all in, like he walks around a stage before a show until he knows every corner, every boundary.
Then he shoves me out of it.
This request is less scary than some of the things we’ve done because I’m totally in control and he’s not even here.
