Tectonic (Double Blind Study Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

  He kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep, as she fitted her soft body against the length of his back, her fingers feather-light moving on the hair that was flopped over his forehead.

  Her clear voice whisper-sang the words to Foo Fighter's “Halo” against his cheek. Soft, melodic, peaceful. Reminding him of the events of the best Christmas Eve he'd had... possibly ever, from just the night before.

  The day had been filled with the arrival of way too many people for Shane to ever hope to remember. Harrison joined him in the guesthouse, along with Mike, and Carl and Miranda. Blake and Lucy had stopped by for a couple hours before heading down to Oklahoma for their own family event. Luke and Lenny called to express their holiday greetings from her parents' house in Jackson Hole. Sway was stuck in Albany, but he sent his love.

  Shane was only marginally surprised that the band was as close as they were, going so far as to mostly be together during a holiday that was usually reserved for families.

  But he had noticed that DBS wasn't like a lot of other bands. They were family, plain and simple.

  The O'Neils' traditions involved a lot of eating, singing, and general merriment. Board games, video games, made-up games that no one else in the world could possibly know about, a steady stream of goodies, hot chocolate, and wild storytelling left Shane feeling winded.

  And blessed.

  Blessed beyond anything he could describe.

  Everyone included him, like he'd been a part of every holiday from the beginning. The kids looked to him like he was some sort of hero, which was awkward considering the rock stars in their midst. The boys asked for Shane to give them pointers on everything from skateboarding, to surfing, to advice about ladies. It was almost too much to take seriously.

  But he loved every second of it.

  Gift opening happened Christmas Eve night instead of Christmas morning, which Shane was silently happy about. That's how his mom had done it too.

  Although, with all the kids and adults gathered in the great room, it was basically a free-for-all.

  Shane sat on the floor, his back to the wall, facing the commotion in front of him, smiling at the jubilant shouting, “ooos” and “ahhs” as gifts were unwrapped and passed around.

  Little Becky slid a box into his lap, then scurried back to her mother. Shane hadn't been expecting any gifts, so the gesture was incredibly sweet.

  He untied the ribbon, opened the box and pulled out a deep navy cashmere sweater. He looked up to attempt eye contact with whomever had given him such a plush gift, but no one was offering him that answer.

  “It's probably from Ma,” Greta whispered as she slid down on the floor beside him.

  Shane looked for Greta's mother amid the riot of shredded paper, but couldn't see her. “Remind me to thank her,” he murmured, tucking the sweater back into the box carefully.

  A box about the size of a large book, but not as heavy was slipped onto his leg. Wrapped in silver paper with a fancy bow, Shane stared at it for a second before raising his eyes to Greta's. Her bright blue eyes twinkled with the reflection of the Christmas lights on the tree behind him, and she smiled so huge he couldn't help but return it.

  “What's this?” he asked, picking up the package and turning it around in his fingers a few times.

  “It's your Christmas present,” she answered, her excitement rolling off of her in waves. She nodded at the box. “Open it.”

  Shane wanted to save this moment. He wished he could take a picture of this feeling, blow it up to four hundred percent and hang it on the wall in his bedroom so he could see and feel it everyday.

  He grinned down at the package and started to peel the paper back.

  He could practically feel Greta hold her breath.

  The edges of a picture frame appeared from the paper and Shane yanked the rest of it away, revealing a photo of himself standing in front of his business. It was an amazing shot. Somehow Greta had caught him studying the ocean in the distance, his arms crossed over his chest, his face relaxed. Above the photo she'd had a quote printed.

  “The only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it.” - Steve Jobs

  “Do you like it?” Greta asked hesitantly after he had studied it for several long minutes.

  Did he like it? Was she kidding?

  He cleared his throat once. Twice. Pushing the tightness back down but not taking his eyes off the photo.

  “It's perfect.”

  She sagged against his side and looked at the picture over his shoulder. “He likes it,” she whispered to herself.

  Shane slid an arm around her back and pulled her tight to his side. She settled in his embrace, rested her hand on his thigh and her head back against his chest, her legs tucked up underneath her.

  He set the picture down in his lap, reached into his pocket and tugged out the small jewelry box. He placed it on his leg next to her hand and waited.

  She sucked in a breath, obviously not expecting him to get her anything. He managed to hold back a smirk, knowing that he could surprise her as often as she surprised him.

  Her hands moved slowly to open the small box, and he felt her tense in his arm when the delicate gold necklace was revealed.

  He'd commissioned the piece from a friend in L.A. It was one of a kind, just like his girl. He'd gone to see Tank and explained what he was doing; Tank had sketched a picture of Greta's tattoo which is what Shane had taken to the jeweler.

  About the diameter of a quarter, but only half as thick, it was a solid gold replica of a daisy exploding in fire and light. Dotted with diamond flecks, it looked alive as it glimmered in the soft lighting.

  She pulled it free from its velvet setting, watching the reflections dance and shine, her breathe coming heavier as she rested it in her palm.

  “How did you—?”

  “Merry Christmas, sweetness.” Shane pressed his lips to the top of her head.

  She angled her body to face him, her eyes bright. Her lips moved but no sound came out. Then she grinned and kissed him hard.

  When she pulled back, she unclasped the chain and put the necklace on immediately. Then she kissed his cheek and settled back against him.

  “I think she likes it,” Shane murmured, his hand making lazy circles on her shoulder.

  “I like everything about you, Shane Brookings.”

  Shane tipped his head back until it hit the wall. He surveyed the scene around him, still pandemonium, but one filled with love, family, and beauty.

  Greta would never know how much she had really given him this Christmas. But it was everything.

  A couple hours later, Harrison had broken out the guitar and what Shane thought was an already perfect Christmas, got even better.

  Mike played the piano, Harrison led with guitar and Greta sang. They'd played a bunch of Christmas songs, the whole family joining in. Then Harrison or Mike would switch it up, challenging Greta to follow. And his girl was game.

  Whether she was singing George Michael's “Faith” or Bruce Springsteen's “Thunder Road,” she sold it.

  Obviously none of this was out of the ordinary, because adults and kids alike were calling out past favorites. Shane stood with his back to the wall, carefully removed but not missing one second.

  Greta had shined, her light aimed directly at him. The gold in the hollow of her throat sparkling with her energy.

  The night ended with hugs and hollers and her Grandfather pointing out that they were under the mistletoe. He kissed her chastely, making her grin and the onlookers groan. Then he arched her dramatically over one arm, the crowd clapped, she giggled, and he kissed her lips despite it.

  He walked back to the guesthouse with Mike and Harrison where he stared out the window at the bright December sky, wondering how he could keep this forever.

  Waking up to Greta sneaking into his room? Best Christmas morning ever.

  She finished the choru
s, pressed her lips to his temple and whispered, “Happy birthday.”

  Shane smiled and rolled. She lifted up on her elbow and then came to rest mostly on top of him when he'd stopped.

  She was still in her pajamas, her hair slept on and her face fresh but still a little sleepy. Gorgeous as usual.

  He slid his fingers into her hair that hung past her face while her one free hand traced the line of his beard with an index finger. Her eyes watched the movement.

  “Tell me the truth,” he said, her eyes snapping up to his. “Do you only love me because of my beard?”

  Her cheeks flushed bright pink and she grinned. “No. I love you for a lot of reasons. The beard is just a turn on.”

  His eyebrows lifted and she closed her eyes.

  “That's not what I meant—“

  “Oh, I think that's exactly what you meant,” Shane chuckled and rolled again, this time pinning her beneath him. Her eyes opened and widened at their change in position. “This is a dangerous game you're playing, babe. Sneaking into my room, my bed, looking like an angel, and talking about what turns you on.”

  Her lips parted and she sucked in a small breath. At first, Shane was just teasing her, but that changed quickly. He dipped his head, running his nose against the line of her jaw all the way to her ear, letting his weight drop into her and press her deeply into the bed.

  “My brother's in the next room.”

  Greta's words caused him to close his eyes and drop his face into the pillow beside her. Of course Harrison was in the next room. Wasn't that the whole point in the sleeping arrangements her father had made?

  He pushed up to look at her face again. She was apologetic and her apparent disappointment was decent consolation. He tried to crack a smile.

  “That's okay, I really don't want our first time to happen with an audience. Especially your family.”

  She grinned.

  “Though, as far as best birthday gifts ever, that would be at the top of the list.”

  “I'll keep that in mind.” She gave her signature smirk and he kissed the tip of her nose.

  Her response was significant to him. For one, it was about them being naked together, which he was very much looking forward to. For another, it implied she would be here for his next birthday.

  That settled feeling in his bones became more solid. Actually, it was nearly concrete.

  “I know this has been a big year for you,” Greta brought his focus back to her. She looked up at him, completely content to be trapped under his body. He liked that too. “So I thought maybe we could stick with tradition for your birthday.”

  He frowned, not following along.

  “I got tickets to the Celtics Christmas Day game.”

  He buried his face back in the pillow before letting his laughter take over.

  “I can hear you, ya know!” Harrison called through the wall.

  Shane rolled onto his back again, his laughter gaining strength, and he rubbed his face with both hands.

  “Stop listening, you perv!” Greta shouted in return.

  Shane's body bucked with the guffaw that came out. He was laughing so hard he didn't see the pillow that Greta hurled at him. But that only made him laugh harder.

  ***

  Greta didn't just get tickets to the game. She'd gotten courtside tickets to the game. If she looked to her right she could see Donnie Wahlberg. So she stopped looking to her right, because Shane totally caught her.

  “Do you want to go talk to him?” he asked, elbowing her in the ribs lightly.

  “Are you kidding?” Greta felt her eyes bug out. “I can't just walk up to Donnie Wahlberg and start talking! I'd pass out before I even got there. And even if I did manage to arrive fully conscious, I would forget what my mouth was for entirely. No no no no no no, I prefer to keep my love for Donnie Wahlberg far away from Donnie Wahlberg.”

  “You sure know how to make your man feel special,” Shane remarked with a half-grin.

  Greta looped an arm through his and leaned into his space. “You know that I adore you.”

  His half-grin turned into a soft smile. “Yeah.”

  At least twice during the game that Greta was sure of, Shane had to have reconsidered their relationship completely. The first time happened when Boston's point guard was called on a technical when Greta was absolutely sure that no foul had occurred at all. She jumped from her seat, yelling at the ref, and Shane had to haul her back into his lap.

  The second time was when the center got swiped by an intentional elbow from the opposing team. He went down hard, blood gushing from his brow bone. Greta started yelling at the offender, not caring that he was nearly seven feet tall and was three hundred pounds of pure muscle.

  “What's your problem? Why you gotta play dirty?! Didn't your mama ever teach you any manners?”

  Then Shane's strong arm hooked around her belly again. “Shit, gorgeous, you've got to calm down,” he said in her ear. And although there was a fair amount of irritation in his voice, she could feel his body shaking with restrained laughter.

  “I will not calm down!” she declared loudly, by now drawing attention from surrounding fans who were in obvious agreement with her. “They can't go around making our players bleed. This is basketball, for crying out loud, not UFC!”

  That's when the injured center jogged up to Greta and flashed her a brilliant smile. “Calm down, darlin.' We got this.”

  Then he winked and was gone.

  Greta felt her strength leave her as she sagged back into Shane's arms. Basketball players were even more fantastic up close and winking at you. Shane settled her back in her seat and pushed the hair out of her face.

  “I can't take you anywhere, can I? Between you throwing sass everywhere, and men wanting to be where I am, I've got my hands full.”

  “I am not throwing sass,” Greta argued instantly. Shane arched an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes. “Fine. A little sass may have been thrown, but it was completely justified!”

  “Hey! You're on the Kiss Cam!” the girl sitting on her left squealed.

  Greta looked up at the jumbo screen to see that she and Shane were indeed highlighted on the Kiss Cam. He grinned at the camera and then planted a deep wet one on Greta. The crowd seemed to really dig that.

  The game progressed with Greta holding onto better control of her “sass,” as Shane called it. She didn't want to embarrass him, but sometimes the refs really needed to be told off. It's not like the players were allowed to do it.

  The Kiss Cam came back to them three more times. The crowd's volume would grow each time.

  “They must recognize you,” Greta surmised after the third time. Not that she minded, she liked kissing Shane. A lot.

  “I think it's because we look so great together,” Shane replied, nodding up to the screen.

  Greta really looked at them together. Shane's arm slung across her shoulder, her legs crossed and leaning toward him. He nuzzled her neck, giving her a shiver.

  “Do you see it?” he asked her.

  “Yeah.”

  They looked happy. Not just Shane, which she was actually used to seeing by now, but she looked happy as well. In fact, she couldn't remember ever looking that happy in her life. And she considered herself a pretty happy person.

  ***

  After the game, they returned to a big turkey dinner with all the fixings. And Shane's birthday kept getting better, because Greta's mom surprised him with a birthday cake, complete with candles.

  After dinner was cleaned up, cake served and eaten, after the adults had settled into comfortable naps, board games or hushed conversations, and after the kids had refocused on their brand new Christmas swag, Greta took Shane by the hand and led him through the enormous house. They climbed a wide staircase, went down a hall, turned a corner and came to a closed door.

  “This is my room,” Greta said, her back to the door, her hand on the knob.

  Shane wasn't seventeen anymore, but the thrill of seeing his girl's bedr
oom was very much the same. This was different than her room in Clarke's house. This was her childhood home. This was the room she grew up in. It was a forbidden destination. The room where she went from little girl to teenage beauty to fearless young woman.

  She pushed the door open. It swung wide and she let him enter first.

  The décor was probably every young artist's dream come true. Paintings and sketches were taped and tacked randomly long the walls. A table against the window had paper strewn across it, half finished sketches tucked in and around different notebooks. A huge stereo sat along the top of the shelved headboard of her double bed. The blankets on the bed were bright colors of turquoise and lime green. The sheets were gray. An area rug on the floor was black with flecks of turquoise. The walls were painted a soft blue but had been painted over in several different places with little doodles.

  But it was the giant poster of New Kids On The Block hanging above her bed that made Shane burst out laughing.

  “What?” she asked, but she had to already know.

  “So this was why you were all flustered to be so close to Donnie Wahlberg today.”

  “I wasn't flustered...” she tried to argue, crossing her arms momentarily and then uncrossing them just as quickly. “Fine, I was flustered. Are you saying you never had any celebrity crushes when you were a teenager?”

  “But they're not even from your generation!” Shane pointed out, still kind of laughing.

  Greta waved it off. “I stole Miranda's posters when she went off to college.”

  “You're truly one of a kind,” he said, meaning it.

  Shane was drawn to the makeshift desk first, perusing the half-finished sketches. Then his eyes wandered to the finished ones on the wall and the random doodles interspersed directly on the plaster. Even though it looked a little haphazard at first, there was obviously a design to her artistic explosion.

  She never used too much of the same color in one section, dividing the room into almost a mini-gallery. The “doodles” were roses, tulips, daisies and lilies that wove into frames surrounding the more complex art that was neatly hung on the wall.

  “Your parents didn't mind you drawing all over their walls?” he asked, his fingers tracing over the swirl of a rose stem. He was almost afraid to touch it, but at the same time he couldn't not touch it.