by LM Spangler
“I want each of your accounts of the situation. Don’t worry if you interpret it differently than the others. I’ll piece it together at the precinct.”
Each of them gave their side of the story, which was nearly identical, except for Jolene who explained finding it outside.
“I think that’s it for now. I’m going to take a few more pictures. Maybe I’ll luck out and pick up a shoe print. If you think of anything else, please let me know. I’ll be by later to get the speedometer and mirror.” With that, he bid everyone a good day, took his kit, and left the three of them in the back room.
“He scared the hell out of me,” Jolene admitted. She ran a shaking hand through her bright red hair.
A split second later Nana burst through the door in a blaze of white and screaming, bright green. “What were the cops doing here? Were you robbed? Are you hurt?”
“Nana, take a breath,” Summer advised. “Someone appears to be playing a prank on Ian and I. They’ve left a speedometer and rearview mirror at Ian’s store and a bloody window crank here this morning.” She pulled the stool out. “Here, sit down, Nana. You look a little pale.”
“Of course I’m pale. Someone’s messing with my granddaughter, her employee, and...” She paused and looked at Ian. “...whatever he is.”
“He’s my companion—”
“Boyfriend,” Ian interjected.
Summer narrowed her eyes and shot him a sideways glance. “Who may or may not have certain benefits attached,” she added.
“Summer!” The tingle of embarrassment started at his toes and shot up his body until heat licked his cheeks. “That may have been too much…uh…info.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Nonsense.” Nana waved away his comment. “We talk like this all the time. Doesn’t bother me in the least.”
Summer was close enough to hear Ian mumble under his breath that it bothered him. She laughed and patted his back sympathetically. “I thought you men talked about sex all the time,” she whispered, allowing her breath to fan his ear. She laughed again as he shivered. Teasing him was keeping her mind off the awful joke some demented person was playing on them.
He stunned her by whirling her around and crowding her until her body connected with the counter. “I’m more of an action man,” he said before stepping away from her.
“Now that is what you are supposed to do to a woman,” Nana explained. “Keep her flustered.”
The camaraderie kept the insanity at bay. The lunacy.
“I’m supposed to meet with Autumn this afternoon. But I’ll cancel it so I stay here with you,” Ian offered.
“Absolutely not! You will not postpone anything that has to do with your store opening. I’ll be fine. You can come stay with me for a while after Jolene and I close the store. I pass your store seeing as my house is across the alley from it.”
“I’ll stay with you, Summer,” Nana said. She reached into her purse and withdrew a small pistol. “I may be old, but I’m a hell of a shot.”
“Nana! Where did you get that?” Summer stood thunderstruck.
“I’ve had it for years, child. Grampy bought it for me when I opened the store.” The light reflected off the metal as she turned it from one side to the other.
“Put that thing away,” Summer instructed. “You’ll hurt someone or yourself.”
Nana threw her head back and laughed. “The safety is on. It can’t fire unless the lock is disengaged.”
Ian kissed Summer’s cheek. “I have no doubt that Nana is kickass.” He kissed Nana’s cheek. “Take good care of her.”
“I’ll say the same to you. And keep these incidents to ourselves. There’s no need to worry Summer’s brother or sisters.”
Summer walked Ian to the door. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you after work.”
He kissed her hard, robbing her of breath and sanity. “Until tonight,” he said over his shoulder as he left.
She faced Nana and Jolene. “God, I hope I’m doing the right thing about Ian.”
Nana smiled. “God can’t help you make this decision. He only gave you your brain and heart. It’s up to you to figure it out.”
Chapter 5
Annoyance bristled through Ian as he aimlessly walked around his store, seeing yet unseeing. Someone was screwing with him and the woman he loved. Even Summer’s employee got pulled into the mess.
When it came down to brass tacks, someone was stalking them. And from what he could tell, it was car related. His mind twisted and turned, trying to figure out why, but he couldn’t come to any conclusion that made sense.
Ian had assumed it was a crazed fan of the band. He’d received everything from stuffed animals to underwear. He searched the band’s discography. Not a song about cars in any way, shape, or form, not even a passing reference.
The buzzer over the door sounded, ripping his mind from the quandary at hand and to the design and layout of his store. He already had an order of seven guitars and four basses being delivered in the afternoon. Tomorrow he’d receive six new pegboard style floor displays for such things as guitar picks, strings for all the stringed instrument he’d be selling, and drumsticks.
“Good morning, Ian,” Autumn greeted as she breezed into the store. Dressed in skinny jeans with a gauzy, white, see-through, three-quarter sleeve tunic paired with a sky-blue tank top, she looked like a breath of fresh air.
“Good morning.” He extended his hand, remembering Nana’s words. He needed to act as normal as possible.
Autumn slid her hand into his. “Cale Deveraux faxed me a copy of the design he came up with for you.”
She lowered her design board briefcase—a case with two eighteen inch by eighteen inch boards connected together that unfolded to stand on their side—onto the floor. “Have you come up with any ideas?” She flicked her long, golden-hued hair over her shoulder. “I’ve come up with two different concepts we can work with. You can choose one or the other or a combination.” She removed a pencil and sketch pad from the outer pocket her case.
“I see something that flows, colors that complement one another.” He turned to the longest wall and encompassed the surface with his hands. “I see scores of music on the wall. Something that someone could play on any instrument that will be sold here.”
One of Autumn’s brows rose.
“Sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” Ian lifted his hands and lowered them. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry, Ian. I love the idea. We can do a black velvet background with flat matte black notes and musical scales. Brilliant.” She moved to her design board and opened it, displaying her two design ideas, and pointed to one design. “I had planned on using fabric over foam batting to provide sound deadening properties. I can replace the plain fabric with the heavier velvet and provide even better sound deadening.” She opened the sketch pad and quickly drew her plans, stopping periodically to nibble on the eraser end of her pencil.
Ian looked over her shoulder as she created his vision. Music notes rose and fell as it followed a rolling scale. Guitars and basses would hang along the scale on U-hooks. “This looks great. You seem to have read my mind.”
They spent the next hour going over changes to the design plan. After collecting her sketchbook and design board briefcase, she told him she’d see him again with the new plans and left.
Ian’s energy level abounded. Soon his first shipment of merchandise would arrive. In his back room, he moved the small amount of stuff from the center of the room to the edges, leaving the inner circle void.
He passed the time until the delivery by communicating with his old band mates. They had not been happy with his decision to leave, but understood the reasoning behind it.
They could handle their liquor, he couldn’t. What made the situation worse was the fact he was like his father. A drunkard, unable to face a day without alcohol to deaden the pain, to make him feel alive. As the days went by he became more and more disgusted with himself, with the fact he couldn’t function wit
hout a stiff whiskey. He’d begun to falter with his guitar playing as well as forgetting song lyrics. He became detrimental to the band and no longer the asset he’d been when he was sober at twenty-two.
He’d realized his problem, unlike his father. He’d wanted sobriety. He wanted children of his own, who he’d raise right. His dad had one job when Ian’s mother passed away—to care for Ian, to raise him. But shortly after his birth, he was given to his aunt and uncle to raise, and his father became a sad story of a drunkard who allowed alcohol to ruin him.
The anger rippled over him in waves. He grit his teeth until he feared they’d break.
He’d returned to his hometown to learn to live again. To leave the anger and betrayal behind. To live anew. With a store, and hopefully, Summer.
The rumble of an engine brought him to the here and now. The delivery truck had arrived. Excitement now winged through his system, erasing the dregs of bad memories.
He opened the door and lodged a doorstop under it. “Boy, am I glad you’re here.”
“Got a lot for you today,” the deliveryman commented. “Filled up most of my truck.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. First order. You’re going to love it when the drum kit gets delivered.”
The man threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve delivered much worse.”
Together, they off-loaded Ian’s merchandise into the rear room. After multiple trips, the room was full of guitars and basses.
He stared down at the piles of stringed instruments, itching to rip open the packaging and hold them, get a feel for them. Knowledge came from touching them, playing them for hours at a time. One could become intimate with the instrument, learning its intricacies, and have it come alive in their hands.
He could spend all afternoon with the guitars, but it was up to whomever purchased the instrument to make it their own. Every player was different, and he was no exception. His style varied from the next person’s.
He chose to open the merchandise and arrange them as he pictured them on the wall. The neutral, natural wood tones of an acoustic accentuated the bold, bright tones of a yellow flying V, which in turn accented a classic black Les Paul. After much deliberation and chin rubbing, he decided on a pleasing arrangement. He’d ask Summer to check them out and get her opinion. Her skills as a merchandiser far exceeded his.
The sun had begun to set low in the sky. He had spent longer than he’d thought arranging—mostly rearranging—his inventory. With a mental shrug, he stepped into the cool, evening air and locked the front door, completing the security setup. He now had stuff to steal.
He ambled his way home, realizing as he unlocked the front door that he’d want to grab a long-sleeved shirt to chase away the chill. He had about an hour to kill before Summer closed at seven o’clock. On his way out the door, he grabbed Lizzy, his favorite acoustic guitar. A nice serenade would earn him points with all three ladies at Duncan Candles.
Moments later he walked into Duncan Candles and was greeted by three lovely smiles. “Ladies.”
“Does that guitar mean you’re going to play for us?” Jolene could barely contain her excitement.
“Got an extra stool?” he asked.
Jolene hurried to the storage room and returned seconds later. She was moving so quickly that she nearly tripped over her own two feet. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He nodded. “Any requests?”
“How about Common Denominator?” Jolene asked.
“Excellent choice,” Summer concurred.
Ian situated the acoustic in his lap and played a few chords to ensure the instrument was in tune. When satisfied that everything was in order, he strummed the guitar and sung.
Summer swayed to the rhythm, eyes closed, lost in the moment.
It had been so long since he was able to bring someone the luxury of getting lost, even if for only three and a half minutes.
So much had changed since he’d quit drinking. The clarity of his voice, the strum of his guitar, and the beat of his heart. In that moment, he fell utterly and completely head over heels in love with Summer. He’d thought he loved her, but it didn’t compare to what flowed through him now. Contentment. He was where he wanted to be, bringing enjoyment to others, and the woman he loved.
Everything fell into place.
His emotions added an edge to his voice that no one but Summer picked up on. Her silver-blue eyes with their incredibly long lashes glistened with unshed tears.
He strummed the last chord, and his audience burst into applause.
“That was awesome, Ian.” Jolene didn’t hedge her words. “I’ve never heard such a great acoustic version of a hit song, and people try it all the time.”
“Ahh…it’s not my first choice in music, but your voice is excellent.” Nana slid from her stool. “And on that note, I bid you all goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning, Summer.”
Summer approached her grandma and kissed her cheek. “Love you.”
“And I love you.” Nana strolled out of the store.
“You can leave, Jolene. I think Ian and I can handle closing.” Summer turned the Open sign to Close.
Jolene gathered her laptop and bag and hopped off her stool. “Cool. I’ll see you about tenish tomorrow morning. I don’t have class, so I’ll be yours all day.”
“See you tomorrow. Have a good rest of the night.” Summer locked the front door behind Jolene and then faced Ian. “You were amazing.” She wedged herself between his legs.
Ian placed the guitar against the counter, and quick as lightning, he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. His hand danced up her spine until it found the nape of her neck. He didn’t give her time to think. Only to feel.
His mouth descended on hers, capturing her lips. A moan bubbled up her throat and fueled his fire. His tongue teased the seam of her lips and she opened up. Her flavor, fresh as a summer storm, flooded his tongue. Want tangled with need, driving him toward madness.
“Slow down,” he muttered. “Need to slow down.”
“Uh-huh…” Her lips were swollen from their kiss. “Wow. Just wow.”
“Uh, yeah. That was intense.”
“To be continued. Let’s head over to my house.” She walked toward the back and grabbed her purse.
Ian was right beside her in no time, and he took her hand in his, linking their fingers.
“To be continued,” he concurred as he tugged her toward her house.
* * * *
A slow fire simmered through Summer as she unlocked her front door. As soon as her hand turned the knob, Ian pulled her into the house and used her body to shut the door. His body lined up flush with hers.
The heat kindled slowly, building as his hands found their way under her shirt, dancing over her stomach. The fire roared. “Touch me,” she begged against his mouth. His hand slid under her panties, traveling lower until it cupped her core.
“You are so hot, so wet,” he said before capturing her lips again. He ran his index finger over her and then into her.
“God. Oh God,” she moaned as her hips moved with his finger.
Again and again he thrust his finger into her, the pace increasing with each thrust. Molten heat radiated from her core, growing hotter, taking her higher and higher. Her hands grasped his shoulders as she raced toward release.
“More. More,” she begged.
His calloused thumb found her clit and stroked the bud until she cried out, her core gripping his finger as her orgasm climbed and climbed until it crashed over the ledge, slowly bringing her down.
Mouths fused, tongues tasted, and lips nibbled. Consumed by a desire so fresh and new, she flipped their position, pinning him against the door. Her mouth ravished his, tasting and adding fuel to their fire.
She undid the button and zipper of his pants and slid her hand under his boxers until she reached his erection. Her hand enclosed his cock and began to move up and down his hard length. His groans matched the rocking of his hips to
the rhythm of her strokes.
Desire, so virile and strong, flowed through her. The need to be one with him became the most important thing in her life.
“Bedroom,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Yes,” he agreed, stripping her and himself as they made their way upstairs to her bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing in their wake.
They crashed through the bedroom door and tumbled onto her king-sized bed. Hands traced curves, mouths tasted hollows, and soon the need became too great—so hot it threatened to burn her alive.
Together, they climbed the ladder of desire, one rung at a time, until they were so high that they didn’t know where one of them stopped and the other started.
“Ian, I need you inside me, now,” she said as she wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing his erection against her core.
“Who am I to deny a lady?” he said, then he entered her in one hard stroke, burying his cock to the hilt.
Her back arched off the bed as he drove her toward the edge. Still sensitive from her earlier orgasm, she fell over the cliff, falling and spiraling as heat lanced her system.
Ian followed her over that ledge, emptying himself inside her.
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him until her head rested on his chest.
“You’re mine, you know.” The words rumbled in his chest where her head laid.
Her hand splayed over his heart. “I know,” she whispered. Fear crept into her. She’d given herself to him before, and he took her heart with him when he left.
His finger traced up and down her spine. “You’re a little afraid, aren’t you?” There was no reprehension in his voice. Just a question.
Her reply was simple. “Last time I felt like this, you left.”
He tipped her head up with his fingertip. “My sweet Summer. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m setting up shop, literally, in Dover.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Getting you back was on my list of things to do when I returned. Did I accomplish my goal?”
At any other time in her life, that question would have sent her running for the hills. Now, it made her run to his arms. “Yes. You accomplished your goal.”
