by BB Miller
“I love it.” I love you. I glance down at the shiny thing lying against my skin. “You didn’t have to spend so much, though.”
“Tess, the very fact that you don’t care whether I spend money on you or not makes me want to spend everything on you.” He squeezes my hand. “Most women I’ve known have been about two things: being able to say they’ve fucked a rock star and taking advantage of all the perks that come with it. You have no idea how refreshing you are, how in-fucking-credible you are, and that alone makes me want to never leave you.”
Although I don’t need a reminder about the women he’s been with in the past, my heart skips a beat. A yearning hits me that’s so intense it takes my breath away. I don’t want him to leave, either. This is it—I have to tell him. The words are practically fighting to get out. And, with luck, maybe he won’t run away screaming.
“Matt, I—”
“Well, here we are.” He pulls up in front of an older, well-cared-for house and gets out quickly. We’re not far from the airport, but it seems like a quiet little street. After walking around to my side, he helps me out, giving me a nervous smile. I was so wrapped up in my internal struggle, I almost forgot that this meeting is a first for him, too. “What were you saying?” He grabs the bottle of scotch that is our gift to Tom out of the back seat.
“Oh, nothing.” I sigh at the lost opportunity, before giving him a bright smile and gesturing to the house. “Has he lived here long?”
“We moved here from LA not long after he adopted me.” He looks back at me and smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Cardinal. He’s going to love you.” With practiced ease, he lopes up the stairs to the porch perched over the garage and knocks before opening the door. Just before we step inside, the revving of an engine draws my attention to a beat-up looking dirt bike a couple driveways down. The helmeted rider is staring at us. A shock of recognition hits me. He looks like the asshole that kept tailgating me that day.
“Tess? Come on, babe; you’re letting the cold air in.”
I step in, a little shaken by my revelation, and allow Matt to take my coat. I must be mistaken. There are probably a million bikers in the city. Shaking my head, I chalk up my overactive imagination to nerves and smooth down my burgundy sweaterdress. Matt said I didn’t need to dress up, but it’s Christmas and the first time I’ve met Tom. The house smells of roasting meat and evergreen, thanks to the oversized tree in the living room.
Matt calls for Tom, and when we turn the corner, I almost walk into a solid wall of muscle. Standing even taller than my dad, Tom is balder than a cue ball, with a thick silver goatee and kind gray eyes that seem to see right through me.
I instantly like him.
“I thought I heard you yelling,” he rumbles with a big smile. “I’m not deaf yet, you know.”
Matt scoffs and they exchange a manly back-patting hug. “Coulda fooled me, old man.” He takes a deep breath and slips an arm around my waist. “Tom, this is Tessa Baker. Tess, my dad, Tom Logan.”
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Logan.” I smile and hand him the container of cookies. “My mom made these. You wouldn’t want to eat anything I’ve attempted to bake, at risk of losing a tooth.”
His laugh sounds deep and smoky as he cocks an eyebrow at Matt, who actually blushes. “Now I understand why I’ve seen less of this one lately.” He gives me a friendly hug. “Nice to see he’s developed an interest in something other than engines and that motley crew he plays with.”
I grin, watching the unspoken conversation bouncing between them, until Matt shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t scare her off before dinner, all right?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tom teases, before giving me a wink. “Well, come into the kitchen, you two. Between the three of us, we should be able to do this pot roast justice. Oh, and Matt? Crack open that bottle of champagne in the fridge.” He smiles warmly at me, and I find myself beaming back. “This is a celebration, after all.”
Matt
LAUGHTER DRIFTS TO the kitchen, and I add another splash of Baileys to the coffee. Once Tom got over his initial shock at actually meeting Tess, we fell into easy conversation.
I shouldn’t be surprised; both Tess and Tom just have a way with people. I owe everything to Tom. Fuck knows where I would be today if he hadn’t found me trying to steal his car all those years ago.
And Tess . . . Glancing out to the living room, I watch as she pulls her mass of black hair into a ponytail, a smile etched on her face, while Tom rehashes my late teen years. The things I’m starting to feel for Tess scare the hell out of me. That she’s come to mean so much to me so fast has me questioning whether it’s real. Wondering when the other shoe is going to drop and reality is going to smack me in the face.
“I want to show you something,” Tom starts, and I scowl, carrying in the tray of coffees along with the cookies Tess brought.
“Pretty sure she doesn’t need to see pictures of me when I was eighteen, old man.”
Tom just grins at me over his shoulder before continuing his search of the bookshelf.
“I’m pretty sure she does,” Tess says. I set the tray down on the low table in front of the couch before sinking down beside her, taking a firm squeeze of her thigh in the process. Her eyes widen, her face flushing as she darts her eyes to Tom and then back to me.
“You’re coming to the gala next week, right? I didn’t get your RSVP, must have got lost in the mail.” Tom levels me a knowing look. “But I’ve reserved two seats for you,” he casually says. Real subtle.
“Gala?” Tess takes one of the coffee mugs between her hands, blowing over the top. My gaze drops to her tempting lips, and she shoots me a warning look.
“Mhmm. It’s for the group home. We do it every year: black tie, dancing, silent auction.”
Tom shakes his head, returning with a thick photo album, and sinking down into his battered and beloved leather chair. “Didn’t tell her, did you?”
“We’ve been busy.” Tess tries to hide her smile behind the rim of her cup.
“Matty here already gives us half of what he makes, I’m sure. We use that mostly for improvements and upgrades. The garage, new instruments for the music room, beds that are like sleeping on a cloud for most of these kids. The gala helps with the education programs and scholarships. They’d never be able to afford to go to college without them—gives them a chance, you know? Hope for the future, and sometimes that’s all you need as a kid. Somebody to have a little hope for you.” He glances at me before continuing, “Anyway, it’s a great time, and you’re both coming.”
“Yes, sir.” I give him a mock salute, sliding my arm across the back of the couch behind Tess. “How’s the situation with Zach?”
Tess looks at me confused, and I give her a brief rundown of what’s been happening at the group home, glossing over the confrontation we had. “There’re two kids there, probably seventeen?” Tom nods, snagging a cookie from the container. “Zach and Beck. Both of them think they’re the big shots in the house, but Zach is cocky, arrogant, and involved with the wrong crowd outside the home.”
“Sounds familiar,” Tom mutters with a hint of a smile.
“And Beck isn’t?” Tess asks.
“Not as much,” Tom chimes in. “Fletcher’s been by. He’s teaching a bunch of them how to play.”
I smile over at Tom before glancing back at Tess. “Fletcher taught me everything I know about how to play the guitar.”
“Not everything,” Tom says. “Some things you can’t teach. You don’t just play, Matt. It’s something different with you, something special.”
I shake my head, still not used to hearing anything positive, even after all this time. Tom, being Tom, knows me well enough to steer the conversation back to something that’s not going to make me uncomfortable. “Anyway, since the day we called the cops after the fight in the garage, Zach’s been pushing it even more. I’ve had to talk to him a couple of times. I think he’s making up for losing face with the rest of the k
ids when you took him down.” He rubs his hand across the back of his neck and lets out an exasperated sigh. “He’s a handful. Been taking the dirt bike without permission. He broke curfew again the other night. Had to drag him back at one in the morning.”
Frowning, I try to tap down the memories that lurk around the fringes. How many nights did I do that? How many times was Tom the one dragging me back? I wonder if Zach realizes yet just how rare it is to have someone like Tom give a shit about him. “Is he spending time in the garage?”
“A bit. He’s better when he’s busy. You know how it goes if they’ve got nothing to do.”
I feel my jaw set. “Do I ever. Want me to come by? I’ve wanted to see how they’re doing on the Harley.” Leaning forward, I pick up one of the coffee cups.
Tom waves me off. “Nah. You hardly get any time off. Spend it with Tess here.”
“I could help.” Tess glances at me.
I almost spit my coffee out. “You in a garage with these kids? No fucking way. Talk about a teenage dream.” Tom’s deep laugh fills the room and Tess’s face heats again. “It’s going to be bad enough when they see you helping out later.”
She turns to me, her voice low. “You don’t want me to go?”
I let my hand drop from the sofa to drift across the back of her neck, feeling her shiver slightly under my touch. “Of course I do. Just stay by my side, Cardinal.”
“That’s the only place I want to be,” Tess says quietly, her dark eyes full of desire.
Tom clears his throat, and Tess breaks away from my gaze, her cheeks flushed. Tom cracks open the photo album and lays it on the table. Tess seems just a little too excited to see these blackmail pictures of me as a scrawny, awkward teenager for my liking. “Right. Let’s start with when Matt turned eighteen.”
“You’ve been practicing.” I make my way into the music room at the center after I’ve spent a few minutes listening to Beck warm up his guitar from the hallway. As it always has been around the holidays, the group home is overflowing. Tom and the staff have pulled out all the stops to try to make the day seem a little less lonely. A huge tree in the front room that I know he would’ve taken them to the lot to pick out, decorations, and lights literally everywhere. He’s even got gifts under the tree for them all. It’s not much, but for kids who have nothing at all, I know it makes a difference.
Beck glances up from the sheet music in front of him, a smile breaking across his face. “You heard that?”
Nodding, I cross the room and pick up one of the Gibson acoustics from its stand by the wall. “I sure did.”
“This guy Tom knows has been giving me lessons,” he starts to explain. “Fletch—”
“Fletcher Reid.” Beck’s eyes widen as I slide the guitar strap over my shoulder, strumming a few chords. “He taught me how to play, too. You’re in good hands there.”
“He taught you?” He stares back in disbelief.
“Sure did. What’s he got you working on?” I nod to the sheet music, laughing when I see the familiar notes. “‘Back in Black.’ Nice. Three chords that will change your life.”
He smiles at me. “That’s what he said.”
I let the feel of the weight of the guitar in my hands ground me. These last few days have been intense. First, surviving the inquisition with Tess’s parents, then her meeting Tom yesterday, and now wanting to help out here, it’s all been a bit overwhelming. Having a woman like Tess actually care about who I really am outside of the band has thrown me for a bit of loop. “Imagine that. Let’s hear it then.”
“I’m not very good.” Beck anxiously glances down at his fingers.
“I wasn’t either. That’s why you practice.” Blowing out a shaky breath, his grip tightens around the neck of the guitar. “It helps if you relax; give your arms a bit of a shake, empty your head and just play.”
“Easy for you to say,” he mumbles, glancing back up at me, unsure.
Instinctively, I rub the amulet on my neck. Tess said it meant determination and courage. It’s hard to wrap my head around her actually seeing those things in me. It would be easy to leave Beck here to work this out for himself, but I know all too well how that feels. Whether the kid realizes it yet or not, he needs someone to give a shit. Good thing I’ve got a few hours on my hands. “None of this is easy,” I say. “You just have to want to try.”
“Where’s Tess?” I join Tom in the kitchen with an armful of plates. Dinner was pure chaos, with drop-ins from all over the city. Kids, now a few years older and in a better place thanks to the group home and Tom, as well as fresh faces he’d never seen before. Word gets around on the street about a place like this, and it’s been like Grand Central Station in here.
Tom’s up to his elbows washing dishes in the sink while a few of the kids help dry and put away. I squeeze past Amanda, one of the many staff members crammed into the kitchen. “I think she’s taking a tour of the garage,” she says, turning to shove a container of leftovers into the packed fridge. “A couple of the boys wanted to show off the Harley.”
“And you just let her go?” I hiss above the buzz of energy in the kitchen. I know Tess can take care of herself. The woman is fierce, never backing down from anything, but the idea of her in the garage with a couple of these kids carrying around chips on their shoulders doesn’t sit well.
Tom glances up at me. “Aaron went with them,” he says, his brow furrowed. Still, that possessive streak that grows by the minute when I’m around Tess kicks up a notch.
Setting the dishes on the counter, I motion to the hallway that leads to the stairs and the garage. “I’m just going to check on the bike.”
“The bike, sure.” Tom glances at me from the sink.
It’s a good thing Sean’s not here. He’d never let me live this down. More than one of his laws have been broken over these last couple of days.
Pushing thoughts of the annoying Brit away, I turn down the hallway, stopping when I hear commotion at the side door. I see Zach slamming the door against the wall, the sound echoing through the house as I make my way over. “Nice of you to join us,” Beck says dryly, folding his arms across his chest, glaring at Zach. “Dinner was over a half hour ago.”
Zach looks like he’s had a rough night. His eyes are sunken and bloodshot, the leather jacket he’s wearing is a ragged disaster, his jeans are ripped, and he reeks of cigarettes. Tom won’t be impressed. “Relax,” Zach mutters, his voice raspy. “If you would’ve come with me, I wouldn’t be late.” His tired eyes slide over to me, assessing, hard. “Thought you’d come to see how we’re spending your money?”
“He’s cool, man,” Beck says defensively.
Zach lets out a huff before heading to the table. “Sure, cool,” he murmurs. Kicking a chair out from under the table with his boot, he sinks into the seat and scans the remaining trays of food. If I had to guess, I’d say he hasn’t slept in a couple of days. He’s exhausted, in desperate need of a shower and an attitude adjustment. “Nice ride out there,” he adds around a mouthful of crusty bread.
“Thanks.”
“Looks like it’s had work done to it recently,” Zach says, a hint of a mischief on his face that I don’t like.
“A bit of a paint job.” His tired eyes narrow at me, his jaw tense, radiating anger. I know what this is like. I was Zach for a while. He feels trapped, his options are slipping away, and there are days when it might be easier just to let yourself go down that darker path. Better the devil you know than the one you don’t.
Tess’s familiar laugh breaks the mounting tension, and I turn to see her coming down the hall with Aaron. Just the sight of her calms me, making me wish we didn’t have to leave for the rest of the tour right after the holidays. Time is flying by, and it feels like we haven’t had nearly enough time together, just the two us.
“That’s a great setup in the garage,” she says happily, stopping beside me. “And the Harley is looking good. They’re doing a great job.” Zach clears his throat, deciding to make hi
s presence known.
“If I had known we had help like this, I would’ve showed up sooner.” Trying to squelch my anger that threatens to boil over, I turn to glare at him.
Aaron takes a seat beside Zach, and Zach immediately backs off, sagging against the chair. “I see you made it back. You okay?” Aaron nudges him in the shoulder.
Zach shrugs, his eyes darting over to Tess before focusing back on the table. “I’m alive. That good enough for you?”
Aaron nods, reaching for a cookie on the dessert tray. “Works for me.”
I feel Tess’s hand on my arm and glance back at her. She’s white as a sheet, staring at Zach, her dark eyes wary, all traces of her previously happy mood gone. “Hey, you okay?” I steer her back down the hall, away from curious eyes. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I push her hair back, unable to resist brushing my thumb over her cheek.
Her eyes search mine for a moment, and then she shakes her head with a bullshit half-laugh. “I think it’s the turkey coma. Way too much food today.”
“Tess . . .”
That fiery streak of hers is back quickly, and she lifts a brow, challenging me like she always does. “Matt . . .”
“Tell me what’s wrong, Cardinal.”
She reaches up, gently cupping my cheek, and I close my eyes, leaning into her touch, needing it more than I want to admit. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day,” she says quietly, and I know that’s all I’m getting. Once Tess has made her mind up, there’s no changing it.
“Come on. I’ll take you home.”
Her smile is back, slaying me, filling up the empty holes in my heart. “By home do you mean your place?” she asks as we start back down the hall.
“I mean wherever you are.” Pausing at the kitchen, I smile at her, and she squeezes my hand. A simple gesture, full of promise.
“I think we’re going to head out, if that’s all right.”
Wiping his hands on a dish towel, Tom nods. “No problem. We’ve got lots of help, right boys?” A collective groan greets him as the kids helping with the dishes continue to work away.
