“That’s a strange thing to say, but yes, it’s true, isn’t it? What makes you bring that up?” She was usually the one to say odd things, off topic and out of nowhere.
Lucky stared up at the endless sky so she followed suit. The stars twinkled, burning a red haze and some a pale blue.
“I just thought it would be nice to talk about something we have in common.”
His offer was way more than what she deserved, considering how erratic she’d behaved the past couple hours. The fact he could even stand to have her in his sight was a miracle. Or a testament of his feelings for her.
“I like how people don’t look down on mobile homes. Gramma keeps hers so nice. Her lawn never has a single weed in it and she’s always got friends coming over and their kids offering to help out.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much the norm in Tennessee. I bet you’ve hitched a ride somewhere.” He scooched closer to her, almost rubbing shoulders.
“Oh heck yeah, I used to get rides from Gramma’s down to the skating rink all the time.”
“Yeah, well where I live it was more like hopping on the back of some guy’s truck and hoping I made it all the way to the lake without falling off the tail gate.”
She answered eagerly to keep the connection alive. “Oh, the pot holes!”
“Yeah, they’re no joke, assuming you’ve got paved roads.” He whistled loudly at that.
“Where exactly do you live?”
“It’s pretty backwoods. You’ve probably heard of Shelbyville, right?”
“Yes, that’s not so bad. They’ve got something with the walking horse, right?”
“Yep, that’s it. Well, I live east of there, off the Duck.”
“The Duck, huh?” She paused because he had to believe her next words. “Maybe you could show me sometime.”
“Trista, you don’t have to say that. I’m a big boy.”
She couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Yes you are, and I thought you loved me.”
Lucky’s jaw dropped. “And I thought you didn’t care for me saying that very much.”
“Never trust a menstruating woman, hun. We don’t always make sense.” She dropped her hands so that they slid down his hips and thighs.
“Uh, we’d better get back on the road. How much further do we have to go?”
“About an hour.” Man, she wished they weren’t so close.
Chapter Fourteen
Trista flipped off the Beamer that had just cut in front of her but stopped short of shouting for him to kiss her ass. She’d spent too much time away from the overpopulated Southern California freeway system and needed to count to ten then reintegrate herself. That’s when someone honked and sent her teeth to grinding. Settle girl.
Thirty minutes and five questionable hand gestures later and none of that road rage seemed to matter. Not when she glanced over to see Lucky’s eyes light up and mirror the midnight blue of the Pacific Ocean lapping so close to them. If they hadn’t wasted so much time during the night’s earlier rest-stop drama, she would have pulled over and gifted him with a nice long seaside walk. Maybe another apology or two. And definitely a pep talk. However it was late, dark and cold.
She pulled into the familiar dusty white stucco building with its soft, rounded edges and several business store fronts, some with signs but most without. She inserted her key into door 87-B, dimly lit by the familiar black wrought-iron porch light and yellow bulb.
“Welcome to our studio,” she said to Lucky as he followed closely behind.
She closed the door and locked it once they were inside. Lucky stood close to her in the small entryway while she did a quick once over of the place. All the shiny black deco looked in order. Ben had done a great job in her absence. Nothing screamed that somewhere beyond this small ordinary room would be anything of significance. Certainly not the hub for a musical dynasty such as the one Sin Pointe had created over the last twenty years.
“Is this your desk?” Lucky asked, breaking the silence.
“One of them. I share that one with Ben. He’s my partner in crime. Hopefully he still resides among the living. They tend to bury him with work whenever I’m gone. Which is why I only leave once a year.” She squinted at the monitor which displayed a current project she knew had to do with the band’s website. “You may actually get to meet Ben; it looks like he must be lurking around somewhere.”
“That’s cool. Is Jaxon here?”
Ben’s white Mini-Cooper had been the only other car parked out front. “No, I wanted to have a couple minutes with you before I call to let him know we made it.”
Just then a toilet flushed down the small corridor to the right and out sauntered Ben—smiling and very much alive. She’d missed his big green eyes and smile that stretched a few inches across his tired but youthful face. The striped vest he wore over a long-sleeved tattered white t-shirt and zippered black skate pants didn’t give him a very official look but she greeted him with a warm hug and made a proud introduction.
“Ben, this is Lucky, Jaxon’s cousin from Tennessee.”
“Hey man, what’s up? Nice to meet you.” Ben extended a long, lean arm with black leather-band bracelets bunched at the wrist.
“You too. Not a whole lot yet. So you work here with Trista?” Lucky asked.
“Oh yeah, work. More like work my frickin’ brain into numbness. Nah, just kiddin’. But dude,” Ben turned back to her, “I’m so hella-frickin’ happy you are back.”
“It’s good to see you, too. So hey, the backrooms, are they all clear? I want to give Lucky the tour.”
Sin Pointe was the exclusive user of the studio but they’d occasionally allow friends in to work on projects.
“Just us tonight. Hey, I’ve really tried to keep your desk in somewhat working order but don’t stroke out when you see it. Promise?” Ben looked overly apologetic with his big eyes and exaggerated arched brows. What in the world would she find when she made her way to the private room of her actual desk? She reminded herself it wasn’t his fault and she loved him like a goofy little oddball brother.
“Promise.” She held up her pinky, bent to look like a small hook and then turned to lead Lucky down the hall to her office door.
She flicked on a switch and uttered a quiet curse under her breath.
“So this is my home away from home. Sorry it’s such a mess.”
Her desk had spawned five spanking new piles. The first was at least pretty to look at with its colorful stack of CD jewel cases topped by a sticky note with her name scribbled on it. The three middle piles were plain old loose papers. The last tickled her heart. It was the collection of fabric samples she’d left with Ben.
Other than the “ugh” inspiring middle piles, she decided her office was not in that bad of shape. So what was it that had her feeling so overwhelmed?
She forced her hands over her forehead to where they met up with her tangled bun and then let them drop with a swoop.
“Okay, so this isn’t that bad, actually,” she said, speaking as much to her stacked up work as to Lucky. No, her anxiety wasn’t because of the piles; it was because of someone’s surprise declaration of love. Crazy fast days, she thought, as a bit of nausea crept into her belly. She offered Lucky a seat in her roller chair while she leaned heavily against the desk.
“No please. You sit. I’ll stand.” Lucky waited until she sat. “So you said you wanted to talk first?” He reminded her before she had the chance to start.
“Second. First, I wanted to apologize. I’m really sorry for the way I flipped out tonight. I wasn’t prepared to hear…what you said, and then the thought of coming back home…”
Lucky stopped her. He rolled the chair toward him and then bent over so that his hands rested on the arms, one to her right and one to her left. The way he hovered over her should have made her sweat but there was not a bead of intimidation anywhere in Lucky’s makeup. If he’d had wanted to, he could have leaned down and kissed her, but he didn’t.
“It’
s okay. Seeing this place, being in this room with you, meeting Ben, it kind of makes it all a little more real. It’s obvious you have a lot to do and a lot of people depending on you. And uh, just for the record, I didn’t plan that, it just kind of came out.”
Great. Why couldn’t he have just kept that to himself? A twinge of sadness crept up her spine because no matter how softly he had secretly melted her at those words, love didn’t stand a chance in her real life.
“Well, thanks for being honest with me,” she said as she tapped her heels repeatedly against the hard plastic of her chair’s roller wheels, chanting “love sucks” silently to the beat.
“Come here,” he said. His voice changed. Huskier, it stopped her cold. No darlin’ for her now.
All that deep and tender stuff darkening his blue eyes would be the death of her. Why couldn’t a wild streak just overcome him already? Explode on her with passion, there on the floor of her office if they had to. That she could handle. But this love business?
“Trista? Please?”
Where was “no” when she needed it?
Since that one puny word had deserted her, she had no choice but to cozy up to his chest for a hug. He was so solid and warm, like her own personal country bear she hoped would never turn on her. She felt clingy, but knew it was okay in this moment with him. “Let’s try to make this work, darlin’. You know how I feel about you.”
She shivered as a chill chased away the lie she should have tossed his way. She was a lot of things to a lot of people, but a cold hearted liar wasn’t one of them. “Lucky, if I thought there was any way possible to do that, I would. I don’t want to lose this. It’s…the best thing I’ve felt in a very long time. You, not it. You are the best…”
She stopped when she realized she’d said all she needed to and everything she shouldn’t have. Lucky grabbed her waist tightly in one hand, a moment before he lifted her chin to press his lips solidly to hers. His jaw trembled, but only for a second as he ironed it out. The non-stop wave of kisses that followed swallowed her lips, then the stress of coming home, and finally, the doubt she had where he was concerned. That one silly word hadn’t gone into hiding. There was just no saying no to this man. Her breath hitched inside his kiss.
Trista’s office phone rang three times; the red blinking light indicated it was coming from in-house. Reluctantly, she picked it up.
“Hey.” Her short answer could be blamed on a certain determined country boy.
“Trista, Jaxon’s waiting for you guys.” Ben’s punctuated and serious tone warned her of the boss’s presence.
“1-C?” she inquired, getting the specifics on Jaxon’s location.
“Yep, you got it.”
“Thanks, Ben.” She appreciated the heads up and proceeded to share the news with Lucky, who was currently wrapped around her waist and nibbling at her neck.
“Lucky, hold on. Lucky.” She stood to smooth her dress and catch her breath. It had been a nice fifteen minutes or so, too long and not nearly long enough. “Jaxon’s waiting for us, we’d better get,” she said.
“Okay.” Lucky caved respectfully. He kissed her once more on the tip of her ear and then pulled his pretty hair that she’d loosened back into the elastic band he had around his wrist.
She pushed the studio control room’s button, letting Jaxon know she was outside and then waved through the window. He took off his large ear phones and welcomed her in with a kiss on each cheek. “Trissy, it’s so fucking good to have you back.” His biceps slid up from her shoulders to her cheeks in a hug and she could barely breathe. This had better not be a show for Lucky. She twisted to find a pocket of air but all she saw was a pair of veins popping up from their winding around Jaxon’s forearms. They had nowhere to hide beneath the muscle, just as there was no way to conceal the neck tattoo that had nearly gotten her eighty-sixed from Gramma’s trailer park. She finally broke free and looked back to make sure Lucky hadn’t fled the room in intimidation. But no, there he stood— tall, if not a smidgen less happy and bright.
She was going to miss him.
“Cuzzy, glad you made it.” Jaxon pulled Lucky into his chest for a man hug and pounded his back. Lucky leaned down and whispered something into Jaxon’s ear, then parted with a softer single pat to his shoulder.
No longer on pins and needles about this first meeting but reserving her judgment, Trista watched as Jaxon walked back over to his busily lit switchboard. He powered it down, saying it could wait, and then led Lucky and her out of the room.
“So has Trissy given you the tour yet?”
“Uh, no, not yet.” Lucky grinned.
Jaxon nodded and then shook his head, leading their trio. Trista knew what he must be thinking and she wanted to kick him in the back of his knee for the assumption. She and Lucky had only kissed, and nibbled. Oh, who was she trying to fool? She could still feel his strong hands working the cup of her bra with a much more passionate motion.
Back at the front of the studio, Ben sat hunched in his chair, scrutinizing the monitor until Jaxon let a heavy palm land squarely on his desk. Ben’s hand flew to his heart.
“Okay, so tomorrow, Benny. You gonna be here?”
Their webmaster probably hadn’t left the studio in so many days judging by the patches of unshaven whiskers sprinkled across his face. It could be assumed he’d still be there, unless Trista banished Ben for a quick break to get a fresh change of clothes and a night’s sleep in a real bed. Either way, someone would be there.
“Yeah, whatcha need?” Ben answered back, twizzling a pen through his fingers as he spoke.
Jaxon seemed to ignore Ben’s less than professional retort and carried on. “Just let Kevvy know that I left the last track for him to finish up on by the sound board. I tweaked it a bitty but the rest is on him.”
Ben agreed to pass along the message then stared again at the screen. She joined him. “What in the heck is so interesting on that thing?” she asked.
“221 active threads on the message board. Just trying to avoid another crash.”
“It’s gonna be a long night,” she said as Lucky stood close by, looking interested.
“Nah, not too bad once I send these guys to the black hole.”
“Holy cow, did I see that right? 550 inactive threads?”
Everyone wanted to know what the band was up to in light of the pending tour. Later, when she and Ben were deluded by severe sleep deprivation, they would sit together and laugh their asses off at the insane things people would post. She patted Ben on the shoulder and then returned to Lucky’s side.
“Trissy, you heading home?”
“Ha-ha, very funny, Jaxon.”
“Fair enough. All righty then, I guess it’s just you and me, Cuzzy.” Jaxon handed Lucky his keys. “Throw your stuff in my trunk. I’ll meet you out there in a sec.”
Jaxon’s intentions couldn’t have been clearer. But Lucky obliged. He’d given her a delicious parting kiss already. Lucky took the keys and left the studio from the front door with just a tip of his head and a small wave. She needed air.
Jaxon pulled her away from the doorway, back a few feet down the hallway, and hugged her while he spoke. “Hey, I’m really sorry for flaking out on you.”
“Well, what’s done is done. You’ve got to stop apologizing to me. It’s getting old, older than you even.”
“Hey, that’s a knock if I ever heard one.” He lifted his eyebrows and rubbed at his clean shaven face.
“Like I said, what’s done is done. Let’s just move on. Okay?” There was no use hiding her disappointment so she didn’t bother.
Jaxon nodded. “You deserve better.”
Feeling his guilt on top of her pain as usual, Trista shuffled her feet. Instead of agreeing out loud, she leaned in and gave Jaxon one last hug.
“I’ll take good care of him for ya,” he said.
“What?”
He lowered his chin and looked up at her with eyes that reminded her of a sharper, more jagged Lucky, and
turquoise. “Come on, you know better. I can read you like a book, Trissy.”
“Oh. Well, he’s your family so…”
“Right, he is…So hey, we’re having a birthday party for Maryellie on Saturday. I’d like for you to come.”
Her shuffling came to an abrupt end and she grabbed for the hall wall. It had been four years since she’d been invited to a family party at Jaxon’s. She checked his eyes for bloodshot.
“Yeah, I was hoping you and Benny might take a break and come over to the house for some princess cake.”
She crossed her arms rigidly, pushing up what little she had of a chest. “Are you sure? I mean, won’t…”
“Vangie be there?—Yes, but Maryellie has you on the guest list. She’s really looking forward to seeing you, at least for a bit.”
So five-year old Maryella had done the bidding for daddy. Understandably. Jaxon only bent to Vangie’s demands to protect his little girl, and his rights to her. It was the one noble thing she admired about her best friend.
“I’ll do my best. What time? Wait, what day is it?” she asked, her internal calendar still on vacation.
A smile curled itself up in his lips. “Distracted are we?”
She gave up the wall and stood tall and in his face. He really didn’t want to go there with her.
He hmph’ed, glanced at the clock and then enlightened her. “Well, looks like it just turned Thursday. The party is in two days, two o’clock, my house.”
Crap. Only forty-eight hours to embalm her veins with enough ice to endure Vangie. But, she’d do anything for Maryella, just like Jaxon.
Anyhow, she knew how it would play out. She’d get there, stay for maybe thirty minutes, at which time Vangie would flip her lid about something that in her mind would be earth shattering and Trista would quietly make her exit.
“Okay, Saturday, two o’clock, I’ll be there. Don’t tell Maryella though. I wouldn’t want her to be disappointed if things—fall through.”
He nodded.
She followed Jaxon out to his car. Time to say goodbye. Her tummy ached. Two whole days. Maybe Vangie’d lighten up when she saw Trista at the party with Lucky. It might be the only chance she’d have for drama-free time with Jaxon and Maryella. It could work.
Sidewalk Flower Page 13
