“We’re going into town to grab a burger. At Poppa’s. She loves that place and she hasn’t been there in awhile since—”
“Since Randy Chase would have me shot if I stepped foot in his family’s restaurant.” I shake my head.
He shrugs and places a hand on my shoulder. “You need to get a grip, man.”
Cole takes a step back, then straightens his shirt. The collar is stretched so wide he shoots me a hateful glance. “I need to go change. Just talk to her. I think she’s ready to listen.”
I tap on the window and it takes a full thirty seconds before she stops glaring at me and finally winds it down.
“I can’t believe you just did that.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry. Cole and I have history and…it was a misunderstanding.”
She crosses her arms. “What kind of misunderstanding?”
“I thought he was—he—look don’t worry about it okay? We cleared the air.” I open the car door and squat down next to her. “Have you thought about what I said? About coming home?”
Sheila looks away and through the windshield. “Of course I’ve thought about it. I’m not sure how well that will go over with Maya though.”
“Hey.” I place my palm down on her lap and she tenses, but as I allow my fingers to move in slow circles, I can feel her relax against my touch. “Maya was a mistake. And I’ve felt like shit about it ever since. Even if we weren’t…I don’t love Maya. We’ve been over for a long time. It was a moment of weakness. I was feeling bad about myself. She was there. That’s it. It’s not going to happen again.”
“What about the other night?” she asks. “After your gig. I know what I saw.”
“What did you see?”
Sheila opens her mouth, then closes it again. She licks her lips and says, “Nothing.”
“So will you come back?”
“I might not have a choice. Mr. Rose comes home in two days and…maybe I should just go home. Deal with real life. Everyone seems to think I’m doing a pretty shitty job with that.”
“Can they blame you?”
“Maybe I should just go home.”
“Is that what you want?”
She shrugs. “It’s what I should probably do.” She smiles. “You might be the only one who’s willing to give me a break anymore.”
“Don’t go home,” I say. “Not yet. You can stay with me. You know I don’t mind.” Why the hell did I just say that? She needs to go back—to deal with her issues, reconcile with her family. Why am I stopping her? Because of what she can do for me? Or what she does to me? “I definitely think you should go home. Eventually. But not until you’re ready. And maybe you’re not ready. But that’s okay. I can help.”
Her hand brushes against mine, before we entwine fingers. “You going to get me happy, Ross?” she asks with a chuckle.
I laugh. “Cole told you about that, huh?”
“I think it’s sweet what you did for him. It’s totally weird to imagine the two of you as friends but he was lucky to have a friend like you.”
I can’t help myself. I place my palm against her face and stroke her cheek with my thumb. “I can be that for you, Blue. Anything you want to make you happy. Anything. I just want you to be okay.”
“What about Maya?” she asks.
“What about her? I told you, she—“
“How you feel about her and how she clearly feels about you are two different things. She’s going to be everywhere. You two are business partners now. You don’t think that’s going to be a problem?” She shakes her head. “I’ve had enough love triangles for a lifetime,” she adds with a weak smile.
I pull her toward me and as twisted and as confusing as I know it’s going to make things—for both of us—I kiss her anyway. I kiss her hard and deep, holding her head between my hands, raking my fingers through her hair. I kiss her for every day I haven’t been able to taste or smell her since she walked out and for every day I may be forced to give up when all is said and done. And then I pull back. “This isn’t a triangle,” I say firmly. “Not by a long shot.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sheila
I settle into the passenger’s seat and take a deep breath. I have no idea where he’s taking me. He wouldn’t tell me and I’m partly terrified, partly excited. After his little speech yesterday in the drive way—and that kiss—I agreed to let him help me. And the second we get back from wherever it is we’re going, I’m grabbing my bags and moving back in. Maya and her meddling be damned.
I close my eyes, briefly lingering on the memory. Butterflies are still swirling and if I wasn’t sure about my feelings for him before, I’m positive now. I was completely sober yesterday. There wasn’t a drop of alcohol in my system when his lips met mine and I still felt like I was floating. Like I was in another world. I don’t just want him—I need him. I’m not even sure it’s possible to live without him after having him in my life for so long. I side-glance him, biting my lip as I consider what we’ll be doing later on tonight. As much as we bickered before, we’ve had plenty of make-up sex. It’s something we excel at. Only, this time, I get the feeling it’ll very different.
“You okay?” Roscoe takes my hand and I nod.
“I’m fine. Just…curious.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “No blind folds, no impromptu stage performances. Just you and me. I think you’re going to like it.”
I smile as he squeezes my hand, then takes the wheel again, pulling out onto the road.
Two years ago, I’d have never gotten into a car with Roscoe without some kind of direction first. The last time I let him take control I ended up blindfolded and, later that night, drunk on stage belting out oldies with the band. It’s not the worst memory. But back then I’d been so angry I’d almost quit my job.
“Are you taking me to the same place you took Cole?” I ask.
Roscoe shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Can I have a hint?”
He turns to me, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Part of the reason it worked so well is because he was surprised. He’d never done anything like it before.” He laughs. “It was also a distraction. A way to get away from reality for a while. At the time, his reality really sucked.”
“So you took him where?”
He grins. “On an adventure. Cole was a sheltered child. A mama’s boy. Which is why he took it all so hard, I guess,” he adds, his eyebrows drawing together slightly. “It really sucked.”
“I can imagine.”
“I’ll bet you can,” he says quietly. We drive in silence for a while before Ross reaches out to stroke my hair and says. “I promise I’m going to make you smile tonight.” He twirls a lock of it around his finger. “Like you never have before.”
My stomach flip-flops as my mind begins to wander but when pull up to the entrance of Hells Gate State Park, ten minutes later, I’m immediately on edge.
“If making me smile involves hiking, Ross, I can guarantee there won’t be any smiling tonight.”
He laughs. “Relax. I don’t do hiking either. Besides it’s too damn cold for that.”
“What are we doing here then?”
“Camping,” he says with a grin. “Wait here. I’m just going to grab our keys.”
I follow Ross up the trail, thankful I opted for comfortable instead of cute. As nice as would have been to see him drool over me in some skimpy outfit, I’m grateful I took his advice to heart and dressed for the occasion. Although, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.
He reaches back to take my hand a grin on his face. “I remember you saying you always wanted to stay in a cabin. That your dad always made you guys do tents because otherwise the experience wouldn’t be authentic enough.”
I smile in response. My family went camping every summer up until I was twelve. Shannon and I hated it. It was rugged, boring and uncomfortable. We always begged Dad for a cabin. But never in the dead of winter. “This is where you took Cole when you were nine?”
>
“No. Our adventure was a little closer to home. In the back yard to be exact. We pitched a tent, made our own meals—which were mostly peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, juice boxes and Fruit Roll-Ups—and we slept in it for two days.” He frowns. “Until the ants invaded our rations.”
“Sounds…fun.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it. It was the best two days of my life. For him too. No bad memories for him, no parents for me, no annoying siblings for either of us. It was heaven.”
I swallow hard, then pull my hand away to adjust my ponytail.
“Shit.” He scratches his head. “I’m sorry. I—”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I know how unnatural my relationship with my sister was. We were inseparable while most kids were at each other’s throat. You don’t have to explain yourself.”
Roscoe falls into step beside me and drapes an arm around my shoulder. “That’s not unnatural, Blue. It’s completely normal. Luke was an annoying kid but he eventually grew on me. Besides, I’ve always heard there was something between sisters. Something different. It’s nice you two were so close.”
My throat tightens and I take a deep breath through my nose. “Is that the river?” I point to a clearing ahead and Ross nods. “I always wanted to go skinny dipping,” I say with a wink. “Too bad it’s too cold for that.”
He shakes his head slightly as I slip from beneath his arm and jog toward our destination. It takes him a while to gather himself before he catches up but when he does he nearly bumps into me as I stop short.
“Wow.” I stare at the little log cabin in front of us. It’s made of light colored wood and has a window on each side of the door. Flanked by two large evergreens, it’s also complete with a veranda and two chairs. It reminds of something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting—almost too perfect to touch. “Ross, this is…”
“Pretty bad-ass, huh?” He leads the way again and I follow along behind him. “This is an adventure for both of us,” he says. “My backyard’s as far as I’ve ever been and, other than our tour bus, I’ve never done anything like this.”
He opens the door and we’re met with the aroma of pine and mothballs. At least that’s what it smells like to me.
“I’ll get us settled in, maybe cook some dinner before it gets too dark.” He kisses me on the cheek. “You get comfortable.”
I put my bag down beside the bed and make my way around the cabin. There’s not much in the way of space but it’s cute and cozy. There’s a bunk bed, a two more chairs—one under each window and a counter off to the side. “I can’t believe I let you drag me out here,” I say with a laugh. “Or that you’ve never been camping before,” I call over my shoulder as stare up at row of laminated papers pasted to the wall. One of the first sentences jumps out at me and I look back at him. “Uh, Ross?”
“Yep?”
“You notice anything missing?”
“Bathrooms. I know public restrooms suck but they’re not far from here. Probably outhouses but it’s better than nothing, right?”
“No,” I reply. Although now that he mention it, that does suck. “There’s no stove. What were you planning on cooking for dinner?”
He frowns, glancing around the room. He walks from one side to the next then stares back at me, clearly confused. “What the hell?”
“I guess they consider it a fire hazard.” I laugh at his wrinkled brow and flickering gaze. “It’s okay. What did you bring?”
“Uh, camp food. Hot dogs, marshmallows, cocoa.”
“So we’ll do them up on the grill. Maybe build a fire in the pit.”
“In February?”
“Sure. It’s been dry the past few weeks and it’s not too damp today. We’re close to the water so it’ll be easy to put it out.”
“How are we supposed to start a fire?”
“You brought a country girl on a camping trip. Trust me. We’re good.”
“Damn.” He rubs his forehead. “I’m supposed to be the one—”
“It’s fine. It’ll be fun. Besides, it’ll be nice for me to show you a thing or two for once. I’ll go grab some kindling while you settle in.” I linger in the doorway for a moment. “Thanks for bringing me here, Ross. It’s beautiful.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ross
I peer out the window, watching her. She’s standing by the fire, poking it with a stick. The sun has already started to set and if it weren’t for the look on her face right now, I’d be convinced I totally screwed this whole thing up. A city boy trying to impress a country chick. Smooth.
She looks peaceful out there, bathed in that orange glow. Like she’s exactly where she needs to be and I can only hope I’m right.
I pick up the deck of cards and slip them in my pocket. So far, my little getaway is off to rough start but I’m holding out hope that a few drinks and a game of Crazy Eights will help salvage the night. She might be the only person in the world who likes that game more than I do. I used to play with my mom—until she went to jail.
Sheila and I haven’t played in weeks and, before that, not since the Roscoe Gold European tour last year. That night in Sweden when I finally got the courage up to tell her how I felt—kind of. I mostly just dropped the hint but after that night everything between us changed.
Then, two days later, her sister passed away.
I still remember the day I realized I’d met my match. And by match I mean—as cheesy as it sounds—a girl who could possibly be my soul mate. She was as obsessed with my band as I was, had started a fan club, knew all of our songs and was willing to give up everything just to go on tour with us. I hired her on the spot and I don’t regret it for a minute. Sure it was tough to watch her pine after my little brother—I even fired her over it, like a jealous idiot—but I eventually came to my senses, begged her to come back and bided my time.
The circumstances under which we finally hooked up weren’t exactly ideal—hours after she found out her sister was dead. I almost discouraged it. I tried. But I was too weak. Just like I am right now. Maybe a cabin in the woods was a bad idea, because I have no clue how I’m going to keep my hands off her.
I pull my toque back on and make my way outside with the pack of wieners, the hot dog buns, marshmallows and pint of Jack Daniels.
“I’m starving,” I say, as I approach.
“Grab a stick,” she responds with a grin. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
An hour later, I’m sitting on the log next to her, my ass numb as all hell and my belly full on hot dogs. I’ve got a nice buzz on too, so I barely notice the chill of the wind that’s whipping the flames around and smoke into my eyes. I’ve downed most of the bottle while Sheila’s still nursing her first drink. It’s encouraging. Normally I’m the one trying to keep up with her. This a nice change.
I shield my face with my jacket. “I can’t say I ever imagined I’d be doing this.”
“Camping somewhere other than your back yard?” She laughs, as she stabs a marshmallow with a stick.
“Cooking my damn food over an open flame. This is caveman shit.”
Sheila snickers, shaking her head. “You’ve never been camping, Ross? Really?”
“Never. Guess I was a sheltered child. Just like my buddy Cole. And here I thought I was the daredevil.”
“Boy Scouts?”
I shake my head.
“Wilderness Camp?”
I scoff. “We were musicians. We never got our fingers dirty. Only calloused from those guitar strings.”
She nudges me with her knee and leans in toward the fire, holding the stick just above the flame. “Never knew you were such a pansy.”
“Didn’t know you could cook,” I counter. “Anything other than mushy jambalaya and pot brownies that is.”
“Hey!” She shoves me hard and I nearly topple off the log. “That was a sweet and caring gesture, you know.”
“Well, I don’t know about caring.”
Sheila narrows her eyes and I put my han
ds up in defense. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. I—Blue.” I grab the bottle of Jack and pour myself another cup. I’m not sure it should matter anymore what I call her. We’re not together. I’m about to spend the next few weeks trying to convince her to leave. Maybe it doesn’t matter at all. But it does. I sigh and take another gulp of my drink. It’s always going to matter because she’s always going to be that girl. The one I can’t get off my mind. Even if we are just friends.
“Here.” Sheila hands me a stick with a marshmallow attached to it. “You try.”
“That’s okay. You saw what I did to that poor hot dog.”
“Come on.” She grabs my hand, forcing me to wrap my fingers around the stick. “The key is to hold it above the flame. Hovering, like this. Not in the flame.” She looks up at me. Our gazes lock. Mine drops to her lips as she licks them briefly. “And then you just tilt, little by little, like that so you get every side evenly.” She lets go of my hand but I don’t stop watching her. She readies her own marshmallow and, holding it over the flame, she keeps twirling the thing around until it’s a golden, bubbly brown. Sheila holds it up in front of me, smiling proudly. “And when it looks like this, you know it’s done.” She beams over at me and I lean forward a little.
“What does it taste like?” I ask.
“Like heaven.” She licks her lips again, her gaze steady with mine for what seems like an eternity. Just when I’ve broken down and decided I’m going to kiss her, she sits back. Sheila pulls the sticky treat off the stick, holding it in front of her. “It’s ready.” She pops it in her mouth and the way she closes her eyes, the way her tongue lingers over the plump flesh of her bottom lip, causes me to stifle a groan.
The things I want to do to her. Right here. In that cabin. On that uncomfortable looking bed. Why can’t things just be like they were? Before Cole’s stupid lecture. Before she walked out. Before Pete’s advice. Before Luke’s request. Before her life blew up. Why do I have to be the responsible one? Always? I just want to let go. With her. I was supposed to be able to let go. Have what I want. For once.
Blackout (Lewiston Blues Series/Black Family Saga Book 2) Page 16
