by Brooklyn Ann
She pointed. “May I?”
His lips curved up into a smile that she stared at too long. “Of course.”
When she slid the long strap over her shoulder and settled the cumbersome guitar on her lap, Klement grinned again and shook his head. “That thing looks enormous when you’re holding it.”
“It is enormous!” She stuck her tongue out then, grabbed a pick from the side table and began to play.
Even though her first notes on the twelve-string were awkward and out of time, they still felt good, and when she got the hang of the instrument and began to play an actual tune, there was an echo of pleasure that reminded her of Klement’s kiss. He joined in with his bass, turning her melody into an actual song. It felt like they were embracing again, only this time with sound instead of touch. Like a hypnotic dance, her riffs mingled with his bass line, seeming to tease the limits of the stratosphere.
Kat peeked at him from beneath her lashes. He’d been so kind, his touch was sublime, and they made beautiful music together.
If she wasn’t careful, she could fall in love with him.
Chapter Eleven
Klement closed his eyes, seeming to taste the new song they were creating. It was rich and evocative, like Kat’s kiss. But it was also somber—and surprisingly good for them just playing around.
Still playing, he carefully reached over and turned on his recording system. This might be useful for Lefty’s song. But the magic drizzled away and Kat started messing up notes.
She sighed and lifted the guitar strap over her head. “I’m sorry, I gotta quit. The fuzziness is coming back.”
Klement set his bass back on its stand, frowning with concern. “Do you feel panicky?”
“No, thank God, but I still feel really fucked up.”
Hands shaking, she slowly returned the double-necked guitar to its place. Klement struggled to think of something safe they could do, something that would keep her mellow yet still avoid tempting him.
“We could watch a movie.” The bong hit had mellowed him enough that he could sit for a little while, and maybe if his attention were on the screen, he’d quit obsessing about the feel of her lips.
“That sounds good. Do you have any horror movies?”
His jaw dropped with pleased astonishment. “You like horror?” He’d loved horror movies since he could remember and had a collection that made his fellow film buffs seethe in envy.
“They’re my favorite.” Her head cocked to the side as her mouth twisted with a thought. “Except for most slasher films, because some dumb chick running around in a nightgown and screaming her head off for ninety minutes bores the hell out of me.”
“Are you sure they won’t have a bad effect in your state?” Klem asked with growing concern.
Those lush lips curved into an impish grin. “Not if you have one of the good cheesy ones.”
They headed back downstairs, and he showed her to the theater room where she immediately exclaimed over his DVD and Blu-Ray collection. When she eventually settled on Army of Darkness, Klement nodded in approval. He could definitely fall for this woman if he wasn’t careful.
He popped some popcorn and grabbed a fleece blanket to keep her shivers at bay. And even though there was plenty of room on the tiered sectional couches, he couldn’t resist sitting next to her.
They laughed at Bruce Campbell’s schlocky but endearing performance and cracked jokes about Ash’s seeming invincibility. As they did, Klem mentally relived how Kat had felt curled up in his lap, the way her small, lithe fingers had tangled in his hair, her soft moans of pleasure as he’d kneaded the tense muscles of her shoulder. And that kiss. He couldn’t remember who’d started it, but God, he didn’t think he’d ever experienced anything that potent. She’d tasted just like chocolate and happiness…if happiness had a flavor. Just the simple sensation of her mouth pressed against his had drowned his mind in a sea of heat and tremors of raw desire, a forbidden fantasy come true and promising more.
But she was fucked up on cupcakes he’d made. He’d nearly lost all ability to think when she’d moved to straddle him, her hot core pressing against his throbbing erection, but when his hands began to slide under the flimsy fabric of her dress his conscience finally reared its head. This would be like taking advantage of a drunk girl, only worse, since it was his fault she was in the state. He might as well have given her a roofie.
Still, it had been agony to break away, to disengage her from the aching source of his need. Hell, even now, with her innocently seated beside him, munching on popcorn and snuggled under a blanket, the urge to yank her back into his arms and carry her to bed was restrained by a thin leash.
That way lay madness. Even when she sobered up, things couldn’t go further between them. If Kat performed well at Thrashfest—and Klem had little doubt she would—there was a good chance she’d be in the band for good. A colleague, a coworker. One they desperately needed. Hell if he was going to fuck that up by getting into a relationship with her and have it ruined by inevitable heartbreak. Almost every woman he’d ever dated eventually dumped him for some singer—or because they thought he was crazy with his constant need to be working on a million projects.
Hell, that was probably another thing. He was too busy and neurotic to be a good boyfriend. He’d probably lost some of those earlier girlfriends through sheer neglect. He was twitchy, he talked to himself, and his attention wandered all over the place. His mother’s litany of his flaws rattled into his mind. Kat deserved better than that. And even if she didn’t think he was nuts, even if her infatuation with Cliff might have cooled, there would be plenty other front men at Thrashfest. And she’d definitely draw eyes in return.
She tapped him on the shoulder, breaking off his shudder. “You need to have some of this popcorn before I eat it all.”
He grabbed a handful and turned his attention back to the movie.
Ash was shooting up more undead monsters with his “boomstick,” and Klement gave a laugh. “I’ve always wondered where he was hiding ammo for all those shells.”
Kat grinned. “S-Mart has an infinity ammo–model shotgun, I think. It’s on the same aisle as the infinite fuel chainsaw.”
In unison, they quoted, “‘Shop smart. Shop S-Mart!’”
They laughed and made jokes through the whole movie. Klement couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. So, although he couldn’t get involved with Kat, he took some comfort in the fact that they could at least be great friends. Greater than they’d been as IT Guy and the website manager over the phone.
“How are you doing?” he asked her when the credits rolled.
“Still woozy, but I’m starting to feel more like myself.”
“That’s good.” He’d hated seeing Kat suffer, especially when it was his fault. “Do you want to watch another movie?”
“Totally! I’m torn between Thankskilling and Night of the Demons Two.”
He laughed. “Both are really punny.”
After settling on the latter, she rested her head against the side of his bicep. He couldn’t hold back a grin. Even sitting, she was too small to reach his shoulder. Unable to resist, he reached out with his free hand to brush a lock of hair from her cheek.
The door abruptly opened, flooding the cozy dimness of the theater room with sobering light. Klem and Kat sprang apart just before Cliff and Roderick came in, and Roderick plopped down beside Kat and grabbed her popcorn.
“Ooh, you’re watching Night of the Demons Two? That one is bloody hilarious. I prefer the first one, though.”
“Damn it!” Cliff cradled a bag of chips under his arm. “I wanted to play Call of Duty.”
Klement shook his head. “You can still do that on the TV in the living room, or the TV in your room.”
“Yeah, but I like the big screen and sound system in here.” He sat down next to Klement and opened a bag of Cheetos. “This movie is fucking stupid.”
Kat frowned. “That’s the point.”
�
��But—”
Klement changed the subject before Cliff went back to complaining about wanting to play video games. “So, how’d the night go?”
“All right, I guess. There weren’t many chicks, so I hung out with this guy named Rick and talked guitars. Rod hustled a lot of pool. Anyway, Rick was pretty cool and seemed to know his stuff. Maybe he can come out here and jam with us sometime.”
Klement saw Kat give Cliff a worried look. Did she think he was pushing to replace her? Not gonna happen.
“You know I don’t like having strangers here,” he said. “But you can hook him up with a backstage pass to Thrashfest or something if you want.”
Cliff shrugged. “Okay.”
Despite his complaint about the movie, Cliff stayed and watched anyway, making wisecracks with the rest of them. The whole thing was fun, but Klement selfishly preferred when it had been just him and Kat.
After Night of the Demons Two was over, Roderick threw on one of the Leprechaun movies, but Kat must have had enough because, not twenty minutes in, her head flopped back against Klement’s arm. She was asleep.
Roderick glanced over and chuckled. “How was she?”
“What?” Klement looked up sharply. Did he think he’d slept with her?
“The cupcake she ate. She didn’t look so good when we left.”
“Oh. She felt like crap for about an hour, and then we jammed a bit before watching movies. I still feel terrible for not telling her about them, but it ended up okay.” He did his best to sound nonchalant. “She did eat all of your cheesecake ice cream, though.”
“Bloody hell.” Roderick laughed. “I wanted that for breakfast!”
“I’ll get you more.”
The drummer shrugged. “It’s all right. I’m glad she’s okay.”
Cliff glanced over. “She got the munchies and passed the hell out. Sounds like a good night.”
“Yeah,” Klement said. “And I’m about to pass out as well. I gotta get started on her car tomorrow.” He tapped her shoulder to try to wake her. “Maybe you should go to bed, Kat.”
She mumbled something incoherent and nuzzled his shoulder.
Cliff laughed. “She’s out cold.”
Carefully, Klement shifted her from his arm stood to lift her. She felt so light and fragile in his arms…and so right.
“You taking her to her bed or yours?” Cliff asked. At Klement’s dark look he held up his hands. “Just kidding. I get it. No poaching on the new guitarist. I’ll treat her like one of the guys from now on.”
Roderick laughed. “Right. I’ll believe that when I see it.”
As Klement tucked Kat into the guest bed, he shook his head at the irony. He’d admonished Cliff and Rod to treat her like a colleague, yet tonight he’d done nearly the furthest thing from. And even with the awareness of his own hypocrisy looming over him, he still couldn’t refrain from kissing her on the forehead on his way out.
***
Kat awoke from a muddied dream in which she was being attacked by zombies throwing cupcakes at her until Klement carried her off to safety riding a giant chainsaw on wheels. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, blinking dumbly at the sunlight streaming through the windows. It took a moment for her to remember where she was and what she’d been doing last night.
That fucking pot cupcake. She’d been so messed up she didn’t even remember going to bed.
“Oh God, I hope I didn’t make too much of an ass of myself,” she croaked.
Her throat was parched, so she grabbed a glass of water by the bed and chugged the whole thing as she tried to piece together the previous evening. She remembered being unreasonably cold and having what seemed like every bad thought and memory in her head dance before her eyes. She remembered Klement pulling her into his lap and comforting her…
She remembered kissing him. Or had he kissed her?
Or had she hallucinated? After all, she did have a vague memory of seeing purple bugs crawling on the walls.
Kat shook her head. No, the memory of the kiss lacked the fuzziness of the hallucinations. And the rest of it soon came back: her straddling his lap and gyrating on him like a crazed lust-demon. Him disengaging, moving her off of his lap.
“No, I can’t do this,” he’d said. “It’s not right, not in the condition you’re in.”
Despite the rejection, he’d been gentle and tender, cradling her face and staring deep into her eyes like a lover. And his cock had been hard as steel, straining against the fabric of his jeans.
Her core filled with heat at the memory of how he felt pressed between her thighs. He’d wanted her, that was unmistakable, but he’d held back because she’d been drugged up. Despite her frustration that he’d stopped, his honorable reasons filled her with even more respect and affection for him. She’d had her share of drunken one-night stands that she’d ended up regretting.
With what had happened last night? She had no regrets. Sober, she only wanted Klement more.
In his embrace, she’d never felt safer. In his company, she’d never been more relaxed. Every time she’d been in need, he’d been there without her even having to ask. When her old guitar strap hurt her shoulder, he gave her a new one. When her car broke down, he had it towed to his place and immediately began planning how to fix it. When she’d had a panic attack, he’d comforted her. A lump formed in her throat at the magnitude of her gratitude for everything he’d done. If only there was a way to repay him. But, what could she do for a man who seemed to have everything?
Kat chose her outfit for the day with care. Klement had mentioned working on her car, and the least she could do was help him with that. But she still wanted to look good.
Settling on a pair of well-worn jeans that still flattered her figure and a snug black Slayer t-shirt, she next went to the bathroom and fixed the train-wreck that was her makeup. Apparently she’d also forgotten to wash up last night and had total raccoon face.
Downstairs, Roderick told her that Klement was already working on her car, so she grabbed a few bagels and a cup of coffee for each of them, hoping she’d added enough cocoa to his. Outside, she headed to the garage and laid eyes on his tall, lean-muscled form, and her knees went weak.
Klement saw her and smiled. “Hey there.”
She licked dry lips. “Hey.” For a moment she stood like an idiot. She wished she could smack herself upside the head. “I brought you coffee and bagels.”
“Thank you so much,” he said, as if she’d done something far more impressive—like bake them herself. He took what she offered.
“No problem.” Her voice came out husky, and Kat couldn’t stop staring at his lips and remembering how they’d felt against hers. She’d never been so strongly affected by a guy before. “What can I do to help?”
Klement finished chewing a bite of bagel and took a sip of coffee. “I could use your small hands to reach down and unfasten the fuel hoses tucked back under there.” He pointed to her engine compartment. “Then we need to measure how long they are before I cut new ones.”
Kat followed him to his toolbox and blinked to see boxes of car parts and loops of fuel hose. “You went to the parts store already?”
“Yeah, I’m usually an early riser.” He handed her a pair of needle-nose pliers and a Phillip’s head screwdriver.
“Shouldn’t we drop the tank before replacing the hoses?”
He inclined his head toward a dark shape in the corner of the garage. “Already done. I flushed it with hot water to get rid of the sugar and then filled it with a rust-removing solution to let it soak. That should take care of the rust and the remainder of the water. After it dries we’ll want to coat the inside with a rust converter.”
“Wow. Thanks!” He had to have been up for hours to have accomplished all that. And it had all been for her. “You should have woken me up so I could have helped more.”
“Nah, you needed a rest after the crazy night you had.” An inscrutable look passed over his features. Was he remembering their kiss?
> Kat bit her lip. “Yeah. Crazy. I’ll get started on those hoses.”
As she unfastened the hose clamps from the fuel pump, taking a break to grab some PB Blaster to break loose a rusted screw, Klement leaned over her shoulder. For a moment some silly part of her thought he was going to kiss her neck. But when she dared to glance up, she saw that he was watching her progress.
“You seem to have some experience working on cars.”
How could he pretend nothing had happened between them last night? She clenched her teeth and went back to attacking the hose clamp.
“My stepdad taught me the basics, but I really learned the most when I helped Kinley get her Duster. Her dad’s a major sexist prick and said he’d give it to whichever of his sons got it running.” She grinned at the memory. “But Dale already had his own car, and Chris was more interested in video games, so Kinley demanded he include her in the challenge.”
“And how’d that go?”
“Lots of scraped knuckles and broken bolts. Her dad would come in the garage with this sanctimonious smirk that made me want to punch him in the face, so I picked up all the shop manuals and watched all the YouTube tutorials that I could find and I helped her.” Her smile broadened. “The car didn’t run pretty, but it ran. And the look on her dad’s face when we drove it around the block was worth it.”
Klement laughed with the unabashed delight that she’d grown to love. How could she have thought he sounded dorky?
“That’s awesome,” he said.
They worked together on her Subaru with almost as much harmony as she had with Kinley—maybe more in some ways, since Klement knew more about what they were doing.
After removing the last clamp, Kat grabbed a shop rag and wiped her fingers with a grimace. “Damn, these were sticky. I wish I could find out who fucked with my car and beat the crap out of them.”
Klement’s expression darkened. He crossed his arms and leaned forward. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Did you tell anyone that we hired you to be our recording guitarist?”
“No. Well, only Kinley, Quinn, and my mom.” Kat paused, remembering. “Wait, I did tell my IT Guy for our website. But I never told him where the studio is. Besides, he wouldn’t do something like this.”
