Live Your Dream (Redfall Dream Series Book 2)

by BB Miller

  “I’ve avoided hospitals ever since. Don’t know what I’ll do if I ever have to visit someone in one.” I manage a wry smile and shake my head. “Well, thanks for the ride—” I begin, but his soft grunt cuts me off.

  “I’m walking you to your office.” He gets out, leaving no room for argument, and stalks around the car to open my door. Joining him on the sidewalk, I give him a wry grin.

  “You’re used to getting your own way, aren’t you?”

  Chuckling, he takes my elbow and steers me toward the building. “Not often enough, in my opinion.”

  The revolving doors are locked at this time of night, so I lead him to a side door and swipe my badge, the only ID I have with me. On the way up in the elevator, he holds my hand firmly; it should feel awkward, considering how long I’ve known him, but it doesn’t. We’re quiet, lost in our own thoughts, until the elevator pings and the doors open on my floor.

  “So,” he begins hesitantly, gesturing for me to go first. He falls into step beside me. “Your tattoo is for your sister?”

  “Yes. She loved them. This time of year, I like to drive down to Pacific Grove to see the monarch sanctuary. She loved that place.” I remember the smile of wonder that would always light her face when she saw the colorful little things flitting around like dozens of airborne flowers.

  “Butterflies have sanctuaries?”

  Arriving at my office, I chuckle at his surprised expression. “They do. It’s amazing to see so many in one spot.”

  “Huh. That would be cool to see.”

  “Um, this will just take me a second,” I mutter, grabbing the stack of files I’d set aside for my trip tomorrow and shoving them in my messenger bag. I’m aware of his intense stare while I rummage through the bag to ensure I’ve got everything. It feels like years since we were in here. In just a few short hours, he’s managed to turn my world on end.

  I straighten and look at him warily. “So, what happens now?”

  “What do you mean?” He looks genuinely confused until I gesture between us.

  “Us. You and me.” I try to shrug off my nervousness. Although I want to believe him when he says he wants to pursue something with me, I can’t help but remember all the loose talk I heard during the concert. “I mean, I know what you said, but you’ll be gone for a few weeks. I’ve heard about what happens on tour. I know I can’t expect you to . . . you know . . . um, abstain from . . .” I trail off when his face darkens, and he reaches for me.

  “Damn it, Tess.” He wraps his arm around me, his expression a combination of frustration and hurt. “I know I don’t have a stellar reputation.” He pauses, studying me cautiously. “What exactly have you heard about what happens on tour?”

  I purse my lips. “Sean and Cameron were talking between sets at Parker’s concert. Something about the three of you hooking up with triplets in Sydney.” He groans in exasperation, and I instantly wish I’d kept my mouth shut. To be honest, I hadn’t heard the whole conversation, but come on. If you hear rock stars talking about partying with triplets, what else could it mean?

  “Aw, Jesus. Look, who knows what Sean was thinking. The guy’s a maniac.”

  “I’m just saying—” His mouth on mine cuts off my rambling. His lips are warm and firm, and they move against mine with urgency that sparks the same in me. I’m left gasping for air when he breaks away just as abruptly.

  “And just because those two idiots were talking about hookups doesn’t mean that I’m necessarily included.” He huffs impatiently. “Okay, it doesn’t mean that I’d be included now. They can do whatever the fuck they want. Doesn’t mean I’m going to go along with it.”

  He plants a hand on my hip and pulls me closer, the energy between us shifting. “Tess.” My name is a rough purr between us. “Don’t think about the tour. How long are you going to be in San Diego?”

  “Just overnight.” I hate how breathy I sound, but I can’t friggin’ help it when he’s holding me like this.

  “That gives us one more night before I leave. Text me your flight info, and I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

  “And then?”

  “I’ll do my best to convince you that I’m a man of my word.” I grip the long, floppy strands of his Mohawk as his lips descend once more, this time for a long, languorous kiss. A moan escapes me as his hand travels slowly from my hip to skim my breast. I snake my leg around his thigh as he moves me to sit on the edge of my desk, our breathing ragged. Just as his other hand shifts to move up under my skirt, we both freeze when the hallway light snaps on brighter. His eyes shoot open at the sound of a vacuum firing up in the distance somewhere.

  “It’s the cleaning crew,” I announce unnecessarily, trying to rein in my raging hormones. The speed with which he can take me from zero to sixty is frightening. Nervously pushing my hair behind my ear, I try and fail to look unaffected. Holy God—was I really going to let him take me right here on my desk?

  Yes, yes I was.

  He takes a shaky breath, mixed with a chuckle. “Jesus, what you do to me, woman.”

  Back downstairs, he pulls me to a stop in the lobby. “Where are you parked?”

  “Oh, I take transit,” I say with a shrug and offer him a smile. “Thanks for driving me back so I could fetch my things. I’ll text you the details for my flight, if you still want me to.”

  “Of course I want you to.” He rolls his eyes. “But you don’t mean you’re going to take a bus now, do you? Where do you live?”

  “Over by SFSU. And no, I take the train.” I’m not sure what the problem is, but he’s obviously not happy. “Matt, I do this all the time. I’m perfectly fine, I promise.”

  “It’s late, though.” He frowns and runs a hand over his hair. “I’ll drive you.”

  “No!” I take a calming breath and repeat more normally, “No, thank you. You’ve done enough, really.” I don’t want to offend him, but, damn it. I can take care of myself.

  He looks baffled by my refusal. “Tess . . .” He looks to the sky, as if seeking divine intervention. “At least take a cab, okay?”

  “Fine, okay.” I hold a hand up. It will cost a fortune, thanks to all the freaking taxes they pile on, but if it makes Mr. Grumpypants happy . . .

  Grumbling to himself, he leaves me trailing behind him while he flags down a taxi. He leans down and says something to the driver before I reach him. He opens the door for me but pulls me close before I get in. “Have a good trip tomorrow,” he says gruffly. He gives me a lingering kiss, making me a little light-headed. “I’ll see you soon.”

  I can’t help myself; I cup his cheek, letting my fingers scratch his scruff lightly. His sigh is barely audible as he leans into my touch. “I look forward to it,” I whisper, and then turn and climb into the cab. Matt closes the door with a solid thunk. Looking out the back window, I see him watching and standing as still as a statue, a tall figure clad in black leather and denim that disappears when we turn the corner.

  “Your boyfriend really loves you,” the driver comments in a heavy accent after I give him my address.

  “Oh, he’s not my—”

  “He’s paid for your ride,” he continues, flashing me a friendly smile in the rearview mirror. “You’re all set!”

  I groan at the intractability of certain bass players and lean my head back against the seat before breaking into a soft chuckle.

  Matt

  IT TOOK EVERYTHING in me to put her in that cab and watch her drive away. Some dangerous, base-level instinct has kicked in. The word “mine” repeats over and over in my head. An intense, constant, addictive beat threatening to unhinge everything I’ve come to know and believe about myself.

  An actual relationship is new territory for me. The line of women who want to fuck a musician is long. The line that really wants to get to know one seems nonexistent.

  The longest relationship I’ve had lasted a grand total of four months with a backup singer for one of our warm-up bands. It came to a screeching halt when I found her in
a threesome on one of the other tour buses. It was a jagged pill to swallow, to be made to feel like a fool on your own tour.

  Since then, what Cam said to me is right. I haven’t exactly put in an effort in this area. I haven’t had to, or cared to until now.

  I’m also aware that time isn’t on my side here. I’ve got less than three days with Tess before we’ll head to Australia for the final tour dates. Tomorrow is a write-off, given her trip to San Diego, which means the clock is ticking.

  I don’t like being under the gun like this. I want to take my time with Tess and savor the experience. I was an idiot to suggest we leave my loft. I want her plump lips on me and her endless curves spread out like a meal on my bed. I’m aching to fill my hands with her soft, full breasts, and have her fall asleep in my arms. I want to see that dark flash of heat in her eyes over and over again.

  But it’s more than that.

  I need to learn why her independent streak is such a fucking turn-on. I think I can listen to her voice and never get tired of hearing it. Even when she’s challenging me. Especially when she’s challenging me.

  Her intoxicating scent lingers on my jacket. I can still feel her in the room even though it’s been hours, and I’ll never be able to look at that table the same way again. She fucking ruined me, and I don’t think she has a clue.

  This is why I’ve been so careful about letting women get too close. And now, within a very short period of time, Tess knows things about me that fewer than a handful of people know. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

  Restless, I haul my faithful black bass from the stand, slinging the strap over my shoulder, and let the curves ground me like they always have. It’s something I can count on, something I can trust. It’s never failed me before, but when I close my eyes and my fingers start in on Kennedy’s latest masterpiece, all I can see, all I can feel, is her.

  The feel of her pussy clenching around me, milking me dry. Her thick, raven hair spilling over the table in a long cascading wave. A groan of frustration rolls through me, and uncharacteristically, my fingers falter clumsily, a string breaking.

  My eyes snap open, heart hammering relentlessly, and I stare down at the neck of the bass in disbelief.

  Everything disappoints you eventually.

  “Is everything okay?” Tucker’s tired voice grumbles through the phone, and I can’t help but laugh. He’s usually so intense and regimented all the time, it’s amusing to catch him off guard.

  “Everything’s fine. Did I wake you up, sleeping beauty?”

  He pauses before I hear him huff. “What do you think?”

  I glance at the vintage clock on the exposed brick wall. “I think it’s not even twelve yet. The night is still young.” I take a final drag from my cigarette, heading to toss it out in the kitchen. I really need to look into those patches.

  “Yeah, but I’m not. The four of you have aged me thirty years, I’m sure.”

  “You love it, and you know it.”

  “Some days I wonder.” His voice trails off, and for a minute I wonder if he’s nodded off on me. “There a reason you’re calling, or did you just miss me?”

  “I need a favor.”

  “Anything for you, Matty.” Tucker’s loyalty still floors me. I know how lucky we are to have him in our corner. It’s something I’ll never take for granted.

  “Just like that?” That gnawing voice is back, annoying me, making me question whether this is a good idea. “No questions?”

  “You never ask for anything, so whatever it is must be important to you.”

  The silence gapes between us as Tucker waits. He knows I’m stalling, but the man has the patience of a saint when it comes to us. “If we could just keep this between us, I’d appreciate it.”

  He actually sounds slightly offended when he fires back at me. “Of course. I know it’s hard for you, but you can trust me, Matt. You’d be amazed the shit I know that I keep from all of you.”

  “That right?”

  “You guys are worse than a soap opera sometimes, I swear. Hit me. What do you need?”

  “Can you get me an address?”

  He lets out a low laugh. “Let me guess. Tess?”

  Running my hand across the back of my neck, I glance out the window. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that? Normally, I’d advise against stalking a woman to get her attention, but something tells me she’d be surprised if you didn’t show up uninvited.”

  “I don’t really know what I’m doing.” It’s a dark admission I wouldn’t make to too many people.

  “That’s usually the way it goes. She the real deal?”

  I watch a taxi speed down the street, which only makes me think of Tess driving away. My skin prickles at the feeling. “She could be.”

  After a moment, he asks, “Want me to do a background on her?”

  I bristle in annoyance. “What? No. Jesus, Tucker.”

  “Just throwing it out there. Everyone has a skeleton or two they don’t want to share. It’s been my experience the more you know now, the better.” His honesty has always slayed me, and this is no different.

  The thing is, he’s got a point, but if Tess ever found out, I don’t want to think about the wrath. “No. You hear me?”

  “Loud and clear. But I’ll throw out a different offer.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’ve got Lane on a pretty tight schedule with working out now. You’re welcome to join us when we’re down under.”

  I scowl, opening up the fridge. “You think I need to work out?” I ask, slightly annoyed. I’ve never really had to hit the weights, and seem to have the metabolism to eat like a linebacker and never have to worry about it. I shake my head at the thought. Clearly my genetics, which I know next to nothing about, are at play there.

  “I think it helps Lane keep his mind off the things that tempt him.” There’s no mistaking his message here. He’s seen enough of me, of all of us, to know our bad habits, women being mine. “We’re going to be gone for a couple of weeks. Just think about it.”

  Pulling a takeout container from the fridge, I slam it on the counter with more force than necessary. “I will.”

  “Do I need to go over the security protocol with you?”

  “What protocol?” What the hell is he talking about?

  “Jesus. You’re such an amateur,” he says after a dark laugh. “No sex videos on your phone. No X-rated Snapchat pictures, because no matter what they say, once that shit hits the Net, it’s out there, and I’ve got better things to do than to spend hours trying to bury photos of your junk.”

  “Not to worry. I’m more of a hands-on type of guy.”

  “Fuck you, Logan. I did not need to hear that. Give me twenty and you’ll have your address.”

  I open the takeout box, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear. “It’s going to take you that long? You’re slipping, Tucker.”

  “Shut up. I’m half asleep or you’d have it sooner.”

  Less than twenty minutes later, after I’ve demolished the rest of the Mexican leftovers, my phone pings with a text.

  I grin when I see the address and apartment number, complete with directions from my place to hers. It’s followed quickly by another message.

  Tuck: FYI—She’s got a roommate. Keep that in mind when you’re stalking.

  Shaking my head, I toss the containers into the trash. How he found out that piece of information at this time of night, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.

  Thanks, man. I owe you.

  Tuck: You don’t even want to know how much. Be careful.

  Always am.

  Tuck: Famous last words.

  It’s amazing how easy it is to slip back into old, dangerous habits. Instinct kicks in, and you remember things you should have forgotten and never should have learned. Living on the street, I had become somewhat of an expert in breaking into buildings. It came in handy more times than I want to think
about.

  The skill doesn’t fail me now as I easily pry open the side door to Tess’s building, annoyance creeping in. She lives in a pretty safe neighborhood bordering Lake Merced, but if I can break into the building this easily, anyone can. The thought is unsettling.

  No security camera in the stairwell is another red flag, although Tucker won’t have to worry about video of me breaking the law. I’m well aware that this crosses the line of desperation. Sean would probably call me pathetic for pulling a stunt like this. One of his famous Murphy’s laws—let the women come to you—is about to be broken.

  Quietly, I push open the door at the second level and step into the bright hallway. Holding the door to prevent any unnecessary noise as it closes behind me slips back to me like second nature. Being a smaller building, there are only two doors on each side and an open alcove at the end of one hall with light spilling out. Experience tells me it’s probably the laundry room. I tamp down the memories that threaten to pull me back to darker places. Memories of sleeping in dirty laundry rooms for a few hours of warmth and safety, only to be kicked back out to the dangers of the street once more.

  A new goal in mind, I search out her door and make my way down the hall, my senses honed to every sound around me. The muted hum of a dryer grows louder, the smell of clean linen drifting down the hall, confirming my initial suspicion.

  I catch her number on the last door on the left and stop in my tracks. I’m fucking crazy for doing this. I’m a thirty-six-year-old man, not some teenager with a stupid crush. I rake my hand through my hair, feeling the stiff bristles scrape my palm. How has she managed to unnerve me?