Leaving him in the living room, she went into the kitchen. She turned on the oven and the grill, then pulled burgers from the freezer and set them on a plate to defrost a bit, then quickly sliced potatoes. He’d mentioned he preferred shoestring fries versus the steak cut version she’d done for the party, so she prepared them accordingly, then prepped them to be baked. She wouldn’t give him fried today.
Bax walked into the kitchen about ten minutes later, holding a wood frame strung in a spiderweb pattern. Faded feathers were clipped to the leather web. “Not Chehalis, right?”
“No. Where did it come from?”
“The trunk.”
“Oh, must have belonged to Terri. Dreamcatchers were Ojibwe originally, though they’ve spread throughout the tribes.”
“Looks handmade. I think my mother had one like it.” He scrunched up his forehead. “Yeah, with pink feathers. I thought it was a piece of Adam Ant memorabilia.”
“Huh?”
“Her favorite rock star when she was a teenager. He wore feathers sometimes. I collected all kinds of odd facts like that, when I was planning my look. As a kid you start learning with your parents’ old albums.”
“Well, you can keep it. It doesn’t have sentimental value for me.”
“Thanks. I feel a country song coming on.” His lips pursed, giving him that pouty bad boy look that melted panties.
She tried to sound coherent. “Do you still write for Nashville?”
“I’m stockpiling for the Dealys. They’ll be back in the studio eventually. I wrote about half of their first two albums.”
“Cool. Wouldn’t it be funny if Terri and your mother had been friends? Like we had a family connection long before we ended up next door to each other.”
“Yeah, and they’re both long dead and died young. Lucky them.” Bax looked away.
“I’ll check the cemetery,” Yakima said, worried about his depressed words, she kept talking. “Now I’m curious. When was your mother born?”
“1962.”
“I should visit Auntie’s grave anyway. I’ll visit Terri too, while I’m at it. I remember she died in 1986.”
“You weren’t even born yet.”
“Maybe not you either,” Yakima said. “Depending on the month.”
“I’ll put this by the door,” he said, hoisting the dreamcatcher. “After lunch, why don’t you let me buy you a Christmas wreath? Your door is naked, and besides, you need to pick up some new bulbs for outside.”
“I have to test the string,” she said. “See what’s wrong.”
“I’ll buy you a new string of lights. That way you can replace the broken one and figure it out later.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked. While she didn’t think he should be alone for a while after such a traumatic interaction with his family, she wasn’t sure about accepting his gifts either.
“At this point you’re an improvement over my family.” He rolled his eyes.
“Not your cousins,” she protested.
“That’s what you think. Rah Rah was a real pain last night, and the twins are still doing everything she does. Haldana has the makings of a great girl, but she’s still basically a fetus.”
Yakima laughed. “You turn thirty and your entire world view changes. I thought rock stars stayed eternally young.”
“Nah, we just keep forcing it. But I’m out of that game. Just behind the scenes now. It’s already a distant memory.”
“Really?” She remembered his suspicions on his doorstep at their first meeting.
“Yeah. My wrist is permanently disabled.”
“Can you play at all?”
“Sure, but just recreationally. I’m sure I’ll break out the axe for Christmas carols later on in the month, but no touring for me.”
“You can still sing.” And he was still sex on a stick.
“I never could without a guitar in my hand, even when I was in Thunder Road. So no, I’m really done.”
“Huh.” She turned back to the stove and opened the oven door, then put in the baking sheet with the fries. So he’d dealt with the physical pain, but what about the emotional pain? Despite the money and fame, her old neighbor had experienced some rough times. “I’m good in here, okay? There’s a piano in the hall if you want to work on your song. I think there’s music paper in the seat.”
“That’s okay. Why is it in the hall?”
She touched her burgers to see how frozen they were, calculating grill time. “Doesn’t fit anywhere else.”
~
Bax wiped his lips with the cloth napkin Yakima had provided and stretched his neck from side to side. He’d seen her trying to be cool while checking out his tattoos. She’d had time to waste because she ate faster than any girl he’d ever met, practically inhaling her food. Meanwhile, he, a foodie like many wealthy musicians, had enjoyed his food at a leisurely pace.
“That was a seriously brilliant milkshake,” he said, after tilting his head back to drain the last sip of creamy goodness.
“It’s the chocolate syrup and ice cream. Only the best.”
“It made the beans go down,” he said. “I’d eat a bean burger again if you served that milkshake with it.”
“Wait until you try my strawberry milkshake in June, when the strawberries are fresh-picked off the vine.” She kissed her fingers. “To die for.”
“If I’m still around.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” she exclaimed. “It hasn’t gone that badly with your family.”
He snorted. “They are the only reason to stay in this town. If I can’t get along with them, I’m heading out.”
“Don’t even think about it until after Christmas. You know how many people hate December? It’s such a stressful month for a lot of people.”
“I know. That’s why I always spent it on a beach with a bottle of tequila before now.” He smirked at her horrified expression. “Oh, we both know that’s how I used to do it. I know you aren’t really that surprised.”
“I’m still trying to remember the old you.” She set her napkin on her plate. “But as much as I was around your house, we weren’t friends.”
“Were you friends with my brothers? You’re the same age as Dare. Did you date?”
Laughter bubbled out of her. “Dare? No, definitely not. Your brother has always had a chip on his shoulder. I didn’t even talk to him in school.”
“I suppose you were in all the advanced courses, and his dyslexia kept him in Special Ed.”
She shrugged. “We ended up in the same place. Cash-strapped small business owners with college degrees. He didn’t let his dyslexia keep him from an education.”
“He’s tough.”
“You’re a family guy too, Bax, even if the other Connollys don’t see it right now. It will work out. As stressful as the holidays are, they can still be magic.”
“Speaking of the holidays, let’s go get you that Christmas wreath and string of lights.” He stared at his empty cup with longing. She had the gift of kitchen magic.
“The wreath is easy. Let’s hit the Boy Scouts tree lot. But it’s hard to find lights at this point in the season.”
“We’ll go to Portland if we have too. Or Seattle,” he declared.
“Are you sure you want to spend that much time with me?”
He stared at her, hard. Where did that come from? “Why not? You’re an old friend and easy on the eyes.”
She dropped her napkin on her plate. “I’m not a supermodel. What if someone took our picture together?”
“You might want to repaint your mouth.” He mimed swiping a tube of lip gloss over her puffy, but somewhat grease-stained lips. “But otherwise, you’re flawless.”
Her cheeks flushed. “That’s sweet of you.”
“I’d never be anything but sweet to someone who makes a milkshake like you do. Let’s serve them at my party on the seventeenth, okay?”
“Sure. We can do that.” She pushed back her chair, stood, and went to a not
ebook she had on top of a thick pile of hardback cookbooks on a small table.
He couldn’t help checking out her curvy ass. Blood pumped into regions hidden behind his jeans. She was one of those girls with a tiny waist and mega-assets below. Some guys dug models for the pride of having one on your arm. Others went for the body type that made a man sit up and pay attention. He was one of those, and Yakima, matured past the elfin slenderness of the sixteen-year-old he remembered, had serious curves.
He contemplated going to bed with her. She’d sure make the Christmas season more special for him, if she knew what to do with that sexy body. Problem was, Haldana. How would his cousin react if he had a fling with her friend and boss for a few weeks? Yakima was old enough to know the score with a guy like him, but Haldana was only twenty-one.
“We have lots to talk about with your party,” Yakima said as she closed her notebook. “We can use the time in the car for discussion.”
“Sure,” he said.
She looked at him strangely. “What?”
He licked his bottom lip, and watched to see if she reacted. With some girls, any sign of attention from him had their nipples standing to attention. But either Yakima was immune or was wearing a bra that hid such things from view. “That is a very baggy sweater.”
She stared down at herself and plucked at her khaki green button-up sweater. “It’s wool. Nice and warm.”
“You have a great body. You should show it off.”
“While shopping for a used car?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned. “Enchant the sales guy into giving you a better deal.”
“Well, maybe, if the sales guy wasn’t a Connolly brother. Your brothers are sharks, Bax.”
~
An hour later, the back of his SUV was filled with an oversized, fragrant Christmas wreath. Bing and Frank were warbling on the stereo as they drove to a local Home Depot in search of lights. They’d already come up empty, as Yakima had predicted, in Battlefield.
Yakima, defiant, hadn’t changed out of her baggy sweater, but she had brightened her lips and done something with a peachy bronzer, he suspected, to highlight her high, flat cheekbones. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t thought of her as hot when they were in high school. Had he been so focused on his music that he hadn’t noticed his cousin’s sexy babysitter?
It didn’t make sense to him, but he could enjoy her now. She talked on about party food in that bubbly voice she used when chatting about her favorite subject. He mostly tuned the words out, focusing on the tone of her voice. It soothed him, like she was a Bax whisperer.
When he pulled into the Home Depot parking lot, she looked surprised. “What?”
“We got here so fast. Traffic at this time of year is usually torture.” She tapped her steering wheel.
“You should try Los Angeles.”
She shuddered. “No thanks. Small town girl.”
“And yet you want to cater for celeb parties?”
Her gaze squared with his. “I want to make a living. Celebs have money.”
“Fair enough.” He considered her. “Would you be willing to be a personal chef? I’m sure I could hook you up.”
“Not right now.” She forced a smile. “Ask me in a year, if my business doesn’t take off. I’d have to move, right?”
“Probably. New York, L.A., Nashville. Someone will want a vegan chef on staff.”
She patted his knee. “Not, yet, but thanks.”
He stared at her hand, slender, but knife-nicked brown fingers. Could anything be more alluring against the deep blue of his jeans? Her hand on him could be an album cover.
Her hand vanished. He heard the door open and realized she was getting out. He’d let that image of her hand take him out of time and place. But he wasn’t a performer anymore, wouldn’t do another album, and he needed to let that go. Songwriting was one thing, but he didn’t need ideas for cover art anymore.
She hadn’t waited for him. By the time he caught up to her, she was talking to a tall, very stooped man in his late sixties. He gave her a hug and she stood on her tiptoes to hug him back. She turned away, grinning, his arm still around her shoulders.
“If it isn’t the oldest Connolly boy,” the man, who wore a Seattle Seahawks pullover, said with a grin.
Bax lifted his eyebrows to Yakima.
“You remember Coach Nichols, don’t you?” Yakima asked.
“I didn’t do sports, sorry.” He held out his hand and the man shook it.
“I coached both of your brothers. Junior varsity football. And taught you American History.” Coach Nichols peered over his glasses.
“Of course, Coach Nichols,” Bax said, though he had no memory of the man. “High school seems like a long time ago.”
“I guess you outgrew us, son,” the coach said. “How’s your father holding up after his knee replacement?”
“Uh, my dad didn’t—” He stopped when Yakima shook her head.
“That was in February,” she said. “Practically forgotten now.”
“Well, sure, if it went well.” The coach pushed his glasses up. “Now my older brother had the same surgery and didn’t do the aftercare, ended up needing narcotics for six months and never fully regained range of motion.”
Bax tuned the man out as he went on and on about his brother’s surgery. He heard music, “Wonderful Christmastime,” and registered, then blocked, the sound of a toddler crying. He considered that life in a small town meant having to run into your old teachers for the rest of your life.
Maybe returning to Battlefield had been a mistake, when you’d blocked out the past as thoroughly as he had done. What had he thought to find here? He pulled out his phone and pulled up the texts from an ex that he’d been ignoring. Time to respond. He should have back-up plans. Some reason to leave if things didn’t work out with his family. Returning to an ex would be a face-saving excuse to cut and run if he needed one.
Chapter Five
They hit pay dirt just over the Oregon border at another home improvement store. Yakima snatched the last container of her multicolored, blinking lights off a naked shelf while Bax looked on, amused. For all her excitement, she might have just heard her single had landed on the Billboard Top 100. At least they’d been successful at last. He’d had to drag her out of the first Home Depot after the fourth person walked up to her and started a holiday season catch-up conversation.
“Great! Can you believe we found the same lights as mine?” she asked as they waited in the twenty-minute long check-out line.
“I was taking your word for it that they were hard to find,” he said.
“How did you decorate in Nashville? Did you hire someone to do it?”
“I lived in a condo there. My house is in L.A. and my gardener took care of the decorating.”
“La di da.” She flipped her hair from one shoulder to the other. “You know what sounds really good to me right now? A homemade peanut butter cup.”
“Not me.” He patted his stomach. “That milkshake did me in.”
“You can never eat too much dessert in December. It’s the holidays!”
“I prefer not to hate myself in January,” he deadpanned.
She flipped her hair again. “I had like two ounces of milkshake, so you can’t judge me and you need to gain weight.”
“I wasn’t judging.” He leaned behind her and checked out her ass. “Seems to me your junk is in the perfect trunk.”
“Now you’re talking in country lyrics,” she protested. “Or at least, that’s what it sounds like.”
He considered. “Maybe the chorus.”
“What would the verses be?”
“Something about trying to get the girl to kiss me.” They locked eyes, then she broke their shared gaze as the line shuffled two feet closer to the register. He forgot about his ex and her persistent texts.
“You have trouble getting girls to kiss you?” She scoffed. “Hardly.”
“It’s a song. Country songs are about longing, s
elf-deprecation. Not arrogant like certain other genres of music.”
“Good ole boy Bax Connolly, lookin’ for love,” she twanged in a faux-country accent.
“No, good ole Will Dealy,” he corrected. “I’m just the songwriter.”
“I doubt he has any trouble getting girls either.”
“He’s a bold one,” Bax agreed, envisioning the strapping country music star in his habitual plaid flannel shirt, jeans and boots. “Many a time I’ve seen him swoop down just like this.”
He wrapped his arm around Yakima’s shoulder, careful to go under her hair, and locked one boot around her heel, using his torso to gently tilt her back. As her eyes widened, he slanted his head, and pressed his lips against hers softly. She parted in surprise but he didn’t take advantage, keeping it sweet and Home Depot-friendly. After a moment he grinned at her and helped her stand up. Her hands had clutched his biceps somewhere along in the proceedings.
He heard clapping. Yakima put her palm over her mouth, her eyes still wide, but he just grinned. What a cocky fool he was. Still couldn’t stay out of the limelight.
“Oh my gosh,” a girl in her mid-twenties enthused. “It’s Bax.”
Her companion gaped at them. The line shuffled forward another couple of feet.
“Wait, that’s Yakima,” said another young woman. “Girl, what you doing, kissing on Bax?”
“Oh, hey, Whitney,” Yakima called. She plunked her lights into Bax’s arms and went to greet the girls a few middle-aged couples behind them.
He watched the trio share hugs with Yakima. Not surprisingly, he recognized none of them. But he was beginning to realize what a great thing he had in Yakima. A well-liked local girlfriend would do wonders for his life around here. She could help him settle in, maybe even win Dare over.
Just then, his phone pinged. He shifted the box of lights and the plastic case of bulbs into one arm and pulled out his phone. Remy had texted again.
~
“What more do you have left to do?” Yakima asked Bax the next night as he opened his kitchen door off the garage. He’d texted her at two, asking if she had dinner plans. When she’d said no, thinking he was going to invite her out, he texted, “Come help me decorate.”
The Rock Star's Christmas Reunion: contemporary holiday romance (A Charisma series novel, The Connollys Book 1) Page 5
