Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (Hautboy Series Book 3)

by Anne Berkeley

  “It’s on me.”

  I turned in my chair. I could almost feel myself shrink back. My mouth went dry. Dear God. He put all other men to shame. He was tall, dark, and heavily muscled. He displayed them well, with a muscle shirt torn at the shoulders. His arms were covered in tattoos, so densely I could barely see the color of his skin. He had a beard. A fucking beard. I wasn’t sure how I really felt about beards until that moment. He was Paul Bunyan minus the flannel shirt.

  My God, I think my panties were wet.

  “Actually, I’ve got it,” said another voice. This one, I recognized. I glanced over my shoulder. Jake Whalen stood behind me in all his golden glory. He slipped his arm around my waist, a clear staking of claim. And we were back to playing chaperone.

  The lumberjack flashed a fierce show of teeth. I think it was meant to be a smile. “She with you, Whalen?”

  I shook my head. “No—”

  “Yes,” Jake interjected, cutting me off. I glanced up at him, my teeth gritting together. He was totally cock-blocking me. His hand tightened around my waist, warning me to keep my mouth shut.

  “She looked bored and lonely. You should take care of your pets better.”

  Was this guy for real? Did he just call me pet? I was so out of my league.

  “Fuck off, Cade.”

  This time, the lumberjack’s smile was real, stretching ear to ear. “She related to you?”

  “Something like that.”

  Oh, hell no. I can’t believe he did it. He marked me off limits. It hadn’t bothered me when Marshall had done it, but Jake was different. While he and his friends had laughed at me in the car, I was attracted to him, and some absurd part of me had secretly hoped I had some small chance with him. How stupidly naïve of me. He was Jake Whalen, after all, and I was, well, me.

  “Actually,” I spoke up. “We’re not. Not at all. And I would love a drink. A few of them, actually.”

  “Paisley,” Jake warned. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

  I looked the lumberjack up and down, taking in his rugged appearance. “Actually, I think I do.”

  Letting go of my waist, Jake stepped back and folded his arms across his chest. I lifted the shot glass from the bar and downed it with a quick flick of my wrist. When I turned around again, the lumberjack’s hand was waiting. I placed my hand in his, and slid from the stool.

  “Thank you.”

  “Pleasure’s all mine, pet.” Lifting my hand, he pressed his lips against my fingers and gave them a gentle bite. My breath caught in my throat.

  “Mother fucker,” Jake growled. Looking back, I watched him push his way through the crowd, walking away in a huff.

  “Hey Whalen!” shouted the lumberjack. Jake turned, his eyes furious. “You gotta little dirt or something on your chin.” The lumberjack stroked his beard, grinning over the gibe at Jake’s less impressive venture at growing facial hair. Regardless, I would’ve chosen Jake had he truly given me the time of day. But as I watched him flip the lumberjack the bird and stalk off, I was reminded that wasn’t the case.

  Laughing to himself, my impromptu date turned to the bartender. “I’ll take the bottle.” The bartender passed him a full bottle of Jack, and two shot glasses. With our drinks in one hand and mine in the other, he began leading me away from the bar.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I have a booth just over there.” He gestured to a private booth off to the left. The floor was packed with bodies, pushing their way forward, trying to get a better view of the stage and the band. As he led the way, they reluctantly gave ground, but not without a curt stare.

  A few short minutes later, we were seated in his booth, and he was pouring us both a drink. I was going to have to pace myself. I had a couple already. I wished I’d gotten a bottle of water when I was at the bar.

  “So how’d you get involved with Jake?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You arrived with him.”

  “I was invited out of goodwill,” I explained. I couldn’t and wouldn’t tell him anymore than that. Though I didn’t work at the hospital anymore, I respected Tate and Coop’s privacy, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain about Henry.

  “Their goodwill—my good fortune.”

  “Cheers to that.” I held up the glass he handed me. The lumberjack flashed a smile and tapped my glass with his. I downed my fourth shot.

  “So tell me about yourself.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Secretive.”

  “Boring. I’d rather hear more about you.”

  “His name’s Cade ‘the cock’ Mathers,” Jake shouted in my ear. I shied from the proximity of his voice. He’d caught me by surprise. “Sound familiar?”

  Flushing, I glanced up at Cade, who was smirking back at me. Marshall stood not far away. The older bodyguard stood to his right. Jake had returned with a little muscle.

  “You have no idea who he is,” Jake pressed, “do you?”

  I made the mistake of looking at Jake. He looked furious. He looked like Pax when Pax was angry. I immediately dug my heels in. “Maybe I don't care who he is.”

  Jake snorted derisively. “He’s a porn star, Paisley. He fucks like a bull, and he’s as big as one too. He’d break that sweet little cunt of yours right in half.” He said the last part low so that only Cade and I could hear.

  “You flatter me, Whalen,” Cade drawled with a smile.

  I'd had enough. Sliding from my stool, I held out my hand. “It was nice to meet you, Cade.”

  “Leaving so soon, pet?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” I'd been humiliated enough for one night. I had no desire to stick around for more abuse.

  “More’s the pity.” Taking my hand, he leaned forward. “Answer me one question before you go. Are you purple down under, too?”

  Despite myself, I smiled. “No.”

  “You would've been when I was done with you.”

  “Tempting.” What a charming guy.

  “If you change your mind.”

  “Doubtful.” I didn't like to share my possessions, let alone my boyfriend, and Cade made a living at sharing his body. With a look of disappointment, Cade released my hand. I turned, stepped around Jake, and headed for the exit.

  “Where're you going?” Jake asked, following me.

  “Home. I'm calling it a night.”

  “You don’t have to go.”

  “Come on, kid,” Marshall chimed in. “We’re just looking out for you.” Grabbing my arm, he spun me around to face him.

  “Look, I appreciate the invite, but I'm gonna go. I'm sorry to have been any trouble.”

  “That?” Marshall pressed. “That was nothing.”

  It didn't feel like nothing. “I don't need a babysitter.”

  “It wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for my friends.”

  “Really,” I insisted. “It's ok. I can get a ride from my brother.”

  “You call your brothers for a ride home and you're only going to prove them right. They'll never let you live it down.”

  God, he was right, and I hated that. Pax and Peter would never let me out of the house again, even if it was my house. I was torn. I couldn't leave. I didn't want to stay.

  Marshall smiled, aware that he was winning. “Come on, kid. Let's go have a few drinks. At least stay and watch our boy Jaxon play.”

  “I'm not a kid,” I argued. I had to win some small concession, no matter how petty or insignificant.

  Once again, we began winding our way through the crowd. Marshall had to shout over the din so I could hear him. “Can I call you pipsqueak then?”

  “Not if you like your testicles intact.”

  “There's no need for violence.”

  “There won’t be as long as you don't call me that.” I almost tripped over the stray feet of some chick moshing. Jake caught me from behind and set me straight. But when she stepped on my foot a second time, I gave her a hard shove. In some mystic fe
at of intuition, Marshall turned around at the right moment and tugged me in front of him, preventing any further discord.

  “You're a surly little shit, you know that?”

  “I was defending my feet!”

  “Just do me a favor,” Marshall pleaded, “don't wander off unless one of us is with you.” He gave me the palm when my mouth popped open in objection. “Don't get all bent out of shape; I barely turned my head for a second when Coop was attacked. It’s not something I care to repeat. Crowds…they tend to make me nervous.”

  I bet. “Ok. Fine. I’ll behave.”

  As we broke through the crowd and approached the booth, Carter Strickland’s face brightened. “Look! Violet’s back!” He slung his arm over my shoulder and passed me a beer. “How was Cade the Cock?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Hey,” he said, tightening his arm and pulling my ear closer, “I told them you were looking to nurse your broken heart but they weren't having any of it.”

  “That’s so considerate of you.”

  “What can I say—I’m an upstanding guy.” Who slept with eighteen-year-olds. “What? What’re you rolling your eyes for?”

  “I didn’t roll my eyes.” I totally rolled my eyes.

  “You did too. I saw it. You rolled your eyes. There—you just did it again! That’s a terrible tell you’ve got there, Violet.”

  I rolled my eyes a third time. “Did you really sleep with two eighteen-year-olds?”

  “Are you judging me?”

  “Come on.”

  “You chose Cade the Cock Mathers over my boy Jake.”

  My face flushed with color. Was he serious? No, Jake wasn’t really interested in me. Carter was just fucking with me. “There was no choice.”

  “You say so.”

  “Are you going to answer the question?”

  “Who said there were two? Maybe there were three of them.”

  “Don’t retort and feed his ego,” the brunette told me. “Do what the rest of us do and tell him to fuck off.”

  “That’s not very devout of you, Emster.”

  “Like, OMG, did you hear something?” the brunette said to me in the best valley girl impression I’d ever seen. “No? Me either. Just a bunch of, like, hot air.”

  This, for some reason unknown to me, pissed Carter off and sent him stalking off into the crowd. The bodyguard with the crewcut named Evan followed him.

  The brunette slid down from her stool. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. My name’s Emelia. You can call me Em.”

  I took her outstretched hand and shook. “Paisley. Nice to meet you.”

  “This is Shane.” She gestured to her left, at the drummer with the black hair. He’d gone short recently. I’d seen the before and after in the tabloids. I had to admit, he looked much better. He looked reasonably healthy compared to a few months ago. I wondered if his most recent overdose had scared him and set him straight.

  Surprising me, when I shook his hand, he leaned in and kissed one cheek and then the other. It wasn’t a real kiss, like one of those cheek to cheek jobs, but I hadn’t expected it.

  “Caio, Paisley.”

  Em was laughing when I glanced back to her. “We just returned from Italy,” she explained. “He likes the custom.”

  “It’s a great custom,” Shane stated with a wink.

  “When it suits you. You weren’t nearly as accommodating with Enzo or his brothers.”

  “Well they’re guys so…”

  Watching the two converse felt like an intrusion of their privacy. They were so attuned to one another. His hand rested at the small of her back. Slowly, his thumb drew small circles against her skin. As she shifted her weight toward him, he peered down into her eyes, a smile stretching across his face. Their connection was palpable, their love undeniable.

  I felt a pang of disappointment over another failed relationship. At this point, I was fairly certain I would never find someone who understood me, not to the level that Em and Shane understood one another. I was envious that they had embraced what so many rarely found.

  “How am I on time?” Jaxon asked. He was tall and lanky, with dirty blond hair. He looked like I did in nursing school the first time I was about to poke my lab partner with a needle; like he was about to puke his guts up.

  Shane looked away from Em, and at his watch. “Damn, yeah, better get backstage.” He grabbed Em’s hand, and with a quick wave, followed Marshall out into the crowd.

  Jaxon smiled nervously and saluted Jake before trailing behind them. His sight still wasn’t one hundred percent, because he only made it about five feet before placing his hand on Em’s shoulder for guidance. His other arm, he reached up and dragged it across his forehead.

  “He’s going to puke his guts up,” Jake observed.

  “Is this his first time on stage?”

  “No.” Jake snorted. “Kid was busking when we found him in Eugene. Had been for about two years.”

  “Lucky break.” From busking to Hautboy. Not bad.

  “Ain’t nothing lucky about it. He’s good. Fucking self-taught.”

  “No shit?” That’s pretty amazing.

  “From what we’ve been told, he played a bit in high school. The rest he learned from watching videos on the internet at the library.”

  “Impressive.”

  “He’s a good guy.”

  “He’s nice.” It was a general statement. Something you said for the lack of having something better to say. I was being polite.

  Taking a deep draw of my beer, I swallowed it down with a gulp. I was back to contemplating whether or not I should call my brother for a ride home. It might be worth hearing Pax’s wrath just to get this night over with.

  “Let’s go,” said Jake. He held out his hand. Obtusely, I stared. “You came out tonight for a reason, Shaw. You want to take some frustration out; I’m giving you the chance. But you’d better jump now before Marshall comes back. He’s a better man than I am.”

  Quickly, I slammed my beer down and grasped his hand. His fingers curled around mine in a firm grip. I wish that last drink had been something harder. Whoever had come up with the analogy of butterflies fluttering in their stomach had it all wrong. Mine was filled with eels.

  It wasn’t a bad thing, just that same rush Jaxon was feeling right now.

  I followed him to the elevators. The doors on the right opened first. We stepped inside. Taylor, the remaining bodyguard, stopped just outside and waited with his back to the doors. Jake pressed the button and the doors began to close, sealing off the sound of the band and the screaming fans. The only distinguishable sound was the bass reverberating up the elevator shaft and through the floor.

  “Nervous, Shaw?”

  “Riddled with anticipation.” No lie. I was totally fangirling. I was no better than Monica, whom I’d criticized a day ago for doing the very same thing.

  Abruptly, I found myself against the wall of the elevator. My cheek felt feverish against the cold stainless steel. Jake’s teeth scraped over my shoulder, sending a thrill of pain straight to my groin. “Why wait?”

  “The buildup is half the fun.”

  Behind me, Jake growled low in his throat. “Shaw, I think I could really like you.” A sharp clap to my backside wiped the smile from my face. I sucked a sharp breath through my teeth.

  “Fuck!”

  “Hurt?”

  “A little.”

  “Can you take it?”

  “It all depends on why you did it.”

  Jake laughed lowly. “It’s all part of the buildup.”

  Oh. Fuck. “Ok.”

  “Ok?”

  “I can take it.”

  “God, you’re a fuckin’ gem. Why’d the doctor let you go?”

  That, I didn’t want to discuss. “How many floors is this place?” When were the fucking doors to this box going to open?

  “Two. The second floor is mine.” Jake released my arm. I stepped away from the wall. The door was already open. I
ambled off the elevator, and into Jake’s penthouse apartment. “You’re going to answer that question, Shaw. Don’t think I’m letting that go.”

  “Noted,” I said absently, looking over his place. It was glass, the whole interior. The floor was tinted, but you could see the entire club and its occupants below. The walls were pale, but frosted for privacy. Thank God for small favors.

  Only one wall was opaque, and that was the kitchen, which was stainless from top to bottom. The cabinets and utilities were all concealed behind anonymous panels of steel.

  The bed, sheathed in white, sat in the dead center of the room.

  “What do you think?”

  “That I need to take off my shoes.”

  “Leave the shoes. Take off the dress.” Flushing, I met his eyes, aware he was serious. I expected to find more steel in his gaze, but I found diamonds instead. They were glittering with humor. “Another drink then to loosen the zipper a little.”

  He turned and strode to the kitchen. As I watched him open and close the cabinets, I used the wall to balance myself in my heels while I removed my dress. At the touch of my hand, the glass flickered and became translucent. That alone was enough to astound me.

  But when I saw the scene in the adjoining room, I gasped.

  “Oh. My. God.” Was that? It was! Cade was in the next room with some nondescript blonde. He’d earned his moniker honestly. I couldn’t look. I couldn’t look away. It was an unavoidable attraction to the opposite sex. He was magnificent. He was brutal.

  In one lithe stride, he lifted the blonde’s hips and drove himself into her. I couldn’t hear anything, but I knew she screamed in pleasure. Her back arched, her mouth bobbed, her eyes slivered and glassy. She was high on serotonin. And my buzz was fading quickly.

  Adrenaline was taking over.

  Jake was right. The man fucked like a bull. He was animalistic, all those corded muscles flexing and contracting. They seemed to pop out everywhere. Along his shoulders. Down his back. Even his ass had defined cuts. He was a living work of art, a marble Adonis in the flesh.

  The glass frosted over, cutting off my view.

  Had my hips been rocking?

  I met Jake’s stare, which looked surprisingly displeased. My mouth bobbed, unsure of what to say. “Um…”