by Cari Quinn
She popped out of a bedroom at the other end of the hall, a dark-haired, chubby-faced baby swaddled in a blanket in her arms. He swore she never put that kid down for a second. “Shh. Baby’s sleeping.”
“He’s always sleeping. Damn kid’s a narcoleptic.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s not even three months yet. Of course he sleeps a lot.”
“Just not at night.”
“Four letters for you. B-a-b-y.”
In spite of himself, he grinned. Jazz never let him give her—or her offspring—any shit. “I have four letters for you too. M-a-l-l.”
Jazz made a face. “What about the mall? It’s Christmas Eve. Only a lunatic would go shopping today.”
Nick cleared his throat. “What if said lunatic hasn’t done any shopping yet and really hasn’t shopped in years so has no clue how to buy gifts?” He cleared his throat again. “Especially for chicks.”
“Chicks, huh? I have a feeling you’re not angsting over buying me a gift.”
“I’ll get you something too, if you come with me and pick it out. Don’t you females like bling?”
“I can buy my own bling, thank you very much. And oh no. Ohhhhh no.” She shook her head hard enough to send her twin ponytails flapping. “Do I look dumb enough to voluntarily go shopping on the worst day of the year with someone as clueless as you?”
“Hey.” He couldn’t keep the affront out of his voice. “I’m not that bad.”
“Oh really? Do you have a list?”
“Of what?”
She gusted out a sigh. “Exactly my point. Clueless and pathetic and dripping all over the floor.” Without sparing a glance at his naked torso, she waved a hand at him and turned back to the bedroom. “Get some clothes on, make a list and I’ll meet you downstairs. You better be ready to get in and out fast.”
“First time a woman’s ever said that to me.”
“Doubt that.” Jazz and Gray’s bedroom door thunked shut.
Nick shook his head and headed into his bedroom. He was generally cool with most of his exes, but he and Jazz had a different vibe. Their thing had lasted a nanosecond, and they’d fallen into friendship pretty damn fast. Not that he hadn’t gotten some speedbumps on his ass during the descent, but being in the same band had helped them move past the awkwards into a semblance of an amicable relationship. Living together with her and Gray and the kid hadn’t hurt either. It was hard to see Gray and Jazz together and argue that they were anything but perfect for each other.
He’d just been an unfortunate detour on their road to connubial bliss, but hey, he’d gotten a couple of great friends out of the deal, so he couldn’t bitch. Much.
He tossed aside the towel and grabbed a pair of jeans and tugged them on sans underwear. A quick dig through his drawers netted a worn gray Oblivion T-shirt from their first tour, the one where they’d opened for Rebel Rage, and he pulled it on. He tugged on a hoodie over it and grabbed his wallet and phone, stopping short by the door. The glass dish on the end table held a bunch of shit—paper clips, spare picks, buttons from who the fuck knows what. Matches. Lint. And one perfect pearl drop earring, discovered under his bed during a reckless attempt to vacuum last week.
His fingers closed around the pearl, and he rolled it into his palm. He should give it back. It wasn’t like he didn’t know whom the earring belonged to. Keeping it would screw up her matched pair, and God knows Lila Shawcross wasn’t a fan of anything disrupting her orderly existence.
Especially him.
But he couldn’t return it. Not when he had so little else that belonged to her. She’d been his for a moment, less than, and he was a greedy fucker. He’d give her a million earrings to make up for this one, but this…this was his.
He slipped it in his pocket and headed downstairs to meet Jazz. She was giving instructions to Gray, who’d braced one foot on the handle of the rocking bassinette to keep it moving while he cradled his latest acquisition, an acoustic Gibson, like a girl he wanted to get naked. He also appeared to be ignoring his wife, though he peppered her endless speech with the requisite replies of “yes, honey,” and “no, sweetheart, I won’t set the baby on fire.”
That was probably a little embellishment on Nick’s part, but close enough.
“The kid will be fine. We won’t be gone long. This’ll take like what, twenty minutes?” Nick glanced at his phone. It was barely midday. “Maybe half an hour?”
Jazz stopped talking long enough to shoot him a pitying glance. “It’s Christmas Eve.”
“So?”
“How many people do you have to buy for?”
He started counting them off on his fingers then gave up. “The band, their offspring and significant others, my sister—” He huffed out a breath. “Basically everyone.”
“You forgot Lila.”
Jazz glanced at Gray. “Trust me, he hasn’t forgotten Lila for a second. He’s just trying to play it cool around someone similarly endowed.”
Nick smirked. “He wishes he was similarly endowed.”
“Yet my wife likes me just fine.” Gray grabbed Jazz’s hand and pulled her in for a quick kiss. “Go on, we’re good. You’ll need every minute until closing to help this moron find stuff.”
“She’s just coming along to help with the females of the species. I’ve got the guys down.”
“Oh yeah? What’re you buying Simon?”
“Alcohol,” Nick replied, before remembering Simon wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Ah fuck. “Picture frames? So he can admire all those dopey modeling shots he’s been doing?”
“Sure sounds like the Christmas spirit is in full force with you.” Shaking her head, Jazz bent down to kiss her snoozing son goodbye. “See you later, Dyl. Be good for your daddy.”
“Yeah, you two don’t have any ragers for the half hour we’re at the mall.” Rolling his eyes, Nick followed Jazz outside to her compact sedan.
Once they’d both belted in, he cleared his throat again. “He really doesn’t have a problem with us going shopping?”
Jazz grabbed a tasseled hat from where she’d stuffed it in the visor and pulled it on her head. “No way. He knows you’re in love with Lila.”
“Hang on a second—”
“Don’t even bother arguing it. You don’t have to admit it to us, but we all have eyes. Besides, my husband trusts me.”
“What’s that like?” Nick muttered. “The whole being trusted thing, and being able to be trust in return.”
He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised there was little trust between him and Lila. He was in a famous rock band, and he hadn’t exactly been celibate in the past, though he hadn’t been nearly the manwhore Simon had been either. But he’d definitely enjoyed some of the benefits of being in a new town every night.
And Lila was married. From what he could tell, it was in name only as the marriage had been dead for years, but the fact remained.
No one smart would bet on them. Evidently, not even each other.
“It’s nice. And it’s necessary. You can’t build anything real if your partner doesn’t think you’re as all in as they are. But Gray knows we’re on the same page. Especially since we’re intending to try again later next year, depending how stuff goes with the band.”
“Try what?”
Jazz sighed. “To have another baby.”
Nick shook his head to clear it. Obviously he couldn’t escape into his thoughts very often around Jazz. “What happened to the first one?”
“Lord, you are clueless. Nothing. I just want to be a young mother. We’re hoping to have the first couple close together, then we’ll wait a few years to add on.”
“This one’s just a few months old and you’re already planning more?”
“Yep.”
“And Gray’s cool with this too?” he asked as she zipped into the mall parking lot.
“Sure is. He’d knock me up tomorrow if I said the word. Well, assuming all the cylinders fired correctly. It’s not just a matter of snapping your f
ingers and boom, embryo.”
“Thank God,” Nick said fervently.
“You just wait.” She craned her neck as she drove up and down the aisles, searching futilely for a space. Apparently all of Southern California had decided to hit the Galleria today. “One day, you’ll look down into your kid’s eyes, and you’ll be sunk just like we are.”
“Some of us aren’t meant to reproduce. Which is a good thing. The planet’s already overpopulated. Exhibit A, all these frigging jerks.” He motioned to the endless rows of cars. “Here I thought I was the only one who hadn’t shopped yet.”
“Hardly. You’ll soon see many men just like yourself, roaming the stores, looking dazed and picking up every piece of crap they can find to try to convince their significant others they actually shopped a while ago.”
“Hey, sexist.”
“Truth. Wait and see.”
“You’re awfully smug. How do you know Gray won’t be sneaking out with the kid to do some last minute shopping?”
“Gray already told me about my gift. He’s having a hot tub installed in the new house.”
“Yeah, right, because that’s just for you.” Nick smirked. “Not like he’ll be getting any use out of it.”
But he was making a note for later. Apparently, it was okay to get a present that benefitted you too, as long as you told someone else it was for them.
Gray was a canny bastard, he had to give him that.
“That’s better than the multifunction keychain you’ll probably end up buying everyone.” She darted into a spot near the back of the lot after someone pulled out and yanked the key out of the ignition. “Skip the inflatable whoopee cushion. It doesn’t make anyone laugh. Just incites violence.”
“Duly noted.” Nick tugged out his phone and glanced at his notes app and the halfhearted list he’d made before giving up. “So, um, I don’t suppose you’re cool with inviting the others to the house tonight for you know, some holiday type stuff?”
“Dude, you need a wife.”
Heat crept up the back of his neck. The last thing he needed was a wife. He wasn’t even entirely sure what a guy did with one of those, besides them providing sex and possibly home-cooked meals. And even that was sketchy, from what he saw on Dr. Phil when he was channel surfing.
“You are a wife,” he said.
“I’m Gray’s wife, not a general catch-all one for the public’s use.” Jazz sighed and tugged her fuzzy purple gloves from the pocket of her quilted vest. It was a little chilly out, but he figured the gloves were some kind of fashion statement rather than actual cold weather gear. “But yes, the rest of the band is coming over for dinner. Harper took pity on all of us and is making Christmas Eve dinner for the horde rather than just for her and big D and baby Lexi.”
“Awesome.” Since he had approximately zero interest in visiting everyone’s place to dispense his likely shitty gifts, he was glad she’d thought ahead. He relaxed into his seat, then rubbed his suddenly damp palm down the thigh of his jeans. “Just the band?”
“I invited Lila too. Don’t worry.” She patted the back of his hand. “It would be mean to cut off your access to Christmas sex.”
“Ha. Yeah, right. Not sure if you noticed, but sex is off the table right now. She’s avoiding me.”
Ever since the night a supernova had blown up his life in more ways than one.
“She’s probably just in damage control mode. You know Lila. All work and more work. And Donovan runs a tight ship.”
He didn’t say anything. No one knew about their big blowup shortly after the crazy VIP show, and how she’d stormed off and barely said two words to him since. It wasn’t about Oblivion business. Not entirely. He would’ve staked everything that mattered to him on it.
But she’d vaulted up and he’d given her space. Mainly because he didn’t know if she’d gotten heat from her boss about their relationship or if the situation with her divorce had turned nasty. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her or make her life more difficult.
His hope had been that if he stepped away, didn’t crowd her, she’d come to him on her own. Hadn’t happened yet, but he was still hoping.
Christmas was the perfect time for futile wishes, right?
“Come on,” Jazz said gently, diverting his attention from the flow of pedestrian traffic outside the window. “We have a lot to do and not much time to do it in.”
“Nah, this will be easy.”
“Sure it will, honey.” She rolled her eyes at him and slipped out of the car, giving him no choice but to follow.
Not that he wanted to. Shopping was right up there at the top of the list of stuff he hated most. Along with having tough conversations and trying to build some kind of bridge from the shit pile he’d stepped into back to the amazing weekend he’d shared with the woman he was…with.
With was a safe word. Much less fraught than so many others.
Like relationship. And love.
They passed the kettle ringers at the mall doors and both dumped money into the pots. He’d walked five feet before he turned back and unloaded more into the kettle. He needed all the karmic help he could get.
The first store Jazz dragged him into was a home store. She tugged him past aisles of draperies and pillows and spa attachment thingies—he stopped and cocked his head at those, imagining Lila naked and soapy while he wielded one of those extendable shower heads—and finally stopped in front of a music display. It was playing a selection that sounded like the product of a high school band, interspersed with some windy sounds that he guessed was supposed to be “a restful breeze blowing through the pines” as the CD cover indicated.
“Now this kind of thing is perfect to help the busy mother relax.”
“Yeah, because I’m buying for so many of those.”
At Jazz’s narrow-eyed stare, he grabbed two of the stupid pine CDs and grimace-smiled. “Great idea. Now you’re done.” Harper too, but he didn’t say that aloud.
“Cheap ass.” She flounced to the next aisle.
“What are you going to get Simon?”
Not that again. Nick scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck and studied all the stuff. Boxes were practically stacked up to the rafters, and everyone was rushing around trying to grab all the stuff and shove it into their carts, usually next to at least one squalling child.
His head was already starting to hurt.
He glanced around more than a little frantically and leaped upon the first thing he saw. It just happened to be the best thing for his best friend.
He grabbed the box and brandished it over his head. “Jazz, check it. The perfect gift for Simon.”
She leaped up and snatched the game out of his hands, then blinked. And blinked again. “Seriously?”
“C’mon, it’s hilarious. He’ll die laughing. Everyone will laugh. It’s awesome.” He took the box back from her and shook it. “The game Simon for Simon. Tell me that’s not a killer idea.”
“You actually get laid? Wonders never cease.” Shaking her head, Jazz disappeared down a craft aisle.
He stared down at the box. It was a great idea, wasn’t it? Sure, it wasn’t a Lamborghini or something Simon’s newly posh ass would appreciate, but this was from their childhood. Or not even their childhood, but children before them.
And shit, look at that. A vintage Atari game console, pristine in the box. He snatched it up and looked around. He half expected some kid to come flying at him on a skateboard and steal it out of his grip. Kids on skateboards were about all that was missing from this place.
Fuck everyone else. The game system was for him.
“What do you have there?” Jazz wheeled a cart full of knitting crap in his direction. She’d been crafting up a storm. He wouldn’t be surprised if she bought a loom one day and set it up in the living room next to the perpetual diapering station.
“Stuff.” He turned away before she could criticize his latest acquisition. What he needed was his own cart. Or else he’d hide his p
ackages under her piles of girly things.
“Is it dirty?” Jazz asked suspiciously. “Some kind of naked woman boxed calendar?”
“They have those here?”
She shook her head. “You’re hopeless. C’mon, there’s more at the front of the store, since you’re insistent on getting junk no one will use.”
“Excuse me, but this game will provide hours of entertainment.” He didn’t show her the Atari. He didn’t know if any of the other guys—or girls for that matter—would be interested, but frankly, it didn’t matter. If he ended up spending his Christmas Eve alone with a six pack and Space Invaders, well, there were worse things.
“Whatever you say. Super Slut is more on your wavelength than I am, that’s for sure.”
“That’s reformed Super Slut.”
“Yes, yes, I know, he’s found monogamy and the heavens rejoiced.” Jazz grinned and barreled up the aisle, causing shoppers to part like the veritable Red Sea. “You could get Harper kitchen stuff. Nothing too high grade, because she’s fussy, but she likes the gadgets too. The cheap gadgets,” she added, sensing his attention had already begun to wander.
“So I’m frugal. Is that a crime?”
“No, but it’s Christmas. Spreading love and cash is the American way. C’mon, I see juicers.”
Dutifully, he followed Jazz to the kitchen section. He’d requested her assistance, so he’d let her do her thing.
By the time they’d done a lap through the mall, he had enough crap to fill a warehouse. Some of his gifts were downright epic. Jazz didn’t seem to think so, but he had to assume that was because she didn’t want him to show her up at tonight’s gift giving deal. She probably hadn’t gotten anything half as cool as some of the stuff he’d snagged.
He only had one person left.
Outside the jewelry store, he stopped. There was a mannequin draped in a scarf and a long black pearl necklace. It looped down her back several times and seemed to glow under the lights. Damn, that would look incredible on Lila. Against her creamy skin, the dark pearls would gleam. And it was long enough to loop around her wrists…
Nick detoured into the store without warning Jazz, who scampered behind him. “Now this is a different sort of store for you. No magnetic chess sets in here—oh. Oh.” Jazz pressed as close to the counter as she could, though she was laden down with a few of his bags. He’d insisted he could carry them all, but she’d grabbed a couple and taken off. “Look at that gorgeousness.”
