Taut Strings: A Rock Star Romance (River Valley Rebels)

by Gabrielle Sands

  I closed my eyes as my fingers moved across the fretboard, allowing myself to focus on the sound.

  Images came unbidden to my mind. Wrists held down by strong hands, bodies tumbling between sheets, lips writing messages across bare skin. The sweet torture of an orgasm just out of reach. That’s where my head went when I listened to this song.

  It was pure sex.

  The realization hit me when I was already too far gone.

  I shouldn’t be playing this with them, but we were halfway through and stopping now would be a crime.

  The earlier abstract images were quickly turning into a scene that could only be described as erotic. In my mind, we were tangled together, their strong hands moving down my flat stomach, closer and closer to the spot that ached for their touch. The fantasies I’d indulged in over the past few days were becoming tactile. I felt Cole and Ezra everywhere—my breasts, my lips, my neck, my hips—and my skin burned in their wake. But I was greedy—when had I become so greedy?—because soon it wasn’t just Cole’s and Ezra’s hands on me. It was all of them, every single one of the four beautiful men that had charged into my life and changed everything.

  Torn between keeping my eyes closed or opening them to see two of the very men that were intruding my thoughts, I began playing the solo. When I shifted my stance, there was an unmistakable dampness between my legs. Could a song give you an orgasm? I didn’t know, but I thought I was about to find out.

  A drop of sweat trickled down the valley between my breasts as I rolled my head back. I was burning up, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the garage. My breathing was heavy, my clothes too tight. And still, I played, the music being both my torturer and my anchor.

  The solo ended, and I dared to open my eyes. Cole was fixated on me as he began to sing once again, his gaze never once straying from my form. Ezra was glistening with sweat, the flexed muscles of his arms on a tantalizing display as he tore into the drums. When he saw me looking at him, he didn’t smile, but rather leveled me with a hungry look that nearly caused me to stumble back.

  Fuck.

  This song should come with a warning not to be played with people you’re not currently or imminently fucking.

  I was nearly panting by the time we were done with the seven-minute performance. When the music finally stopped, a loaded pause descended.

  There was no fucking way they didn’t know how worked up I was.

  Carefully, as if afraid that any sudden movement would cause the garage to combust, I lifted the guitar off by its strap. Ezra and Cole shifted, the tension in the room easing by the smallest amount.

  I cleared my throat. “That was great. It’s getting late, so I think I’ll be heading home.”

  Ezra reluctantly turned to face Cole, reminding the latter about his role as a host. He jerked as if snapping out of a trance.

  “Let me call Leo and get him to drop you off,” Cole offered, pulling off his bass and digging in his pocket for what I presumed was his phone.

  “Thanks,” I said, pulling at the neck of my shirt to stop it from sticking to my skin. “I’m going to use the bathroom.” I spun on my heel and left the garage.

  In the bathroom, I tried to calm myself by taking deep breaths. How had they managed to get so deep under my skin? Every interaction felt like an escalation to something I couldn’t even begin to understand. This little episode? How was I supposed to move on?

  I’ve never felt this unbalanced, this confused about anything before in my life. Even after my parents had died and I struggled to find the strength when it came to become Molly’s guardian, some part of me had always known the right thing to do. But now, I was dealing with emotions that were tearing me into a million different tempting directions.

  I splashed some water on my face and clutched the edge of the sink.

  This was a job. Nothing more. If I kept my focus on doing what I’d been hired to do, surely, nothing could go that wrong.

  COLE

  I watched as Adeline beelined back toward the house and shot off the text to Leo. Ezra sat behind the drums, his expression dazed.

  “What just happened?” he asked, scratching at his cheek.

  “Dude, it was so far beyond description I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  My pants felt awfully tight, and I was grateful that Adeline had seemed too dumbstruck to notice the situation I was nursing by the end of the song.

  “Was it just me, or did she seem as affected as us?” Ezra asked while running his fingers through his hair.

  “I think so,” I agreed. I’d noticed the way her neck had shimmered with sweat and how she’d looked at us when she opened her eyes after crushing the solo.

  I’ve always thought that music was a sort of divine magic, even before I’d listened to Jimi Hendrix while tripping on acid. A good song could find its way into your soul and show you hidden truths about yourself. A chorus, a few verses, and a bridge could put you through an emotional wringer as much as it could heal a broken heart. Music was energy, it was power, and it had certainly showed something to the three of us just now.

  “Maybe she’s starting to consider it,” I said. “The kiss with Silas, the hints we’ve been dropping, and now this. She must be picking up on the fact that we’re interested in her, and that we’re not exactly competing with each other for her attention.”

  “We’re playing with fire,” Ezra muttered, shaking his head. “If she makes a move, we’ll be goners. She’ll own every piece of us, and there won’t be anyone who can pull us out. Are you willing to take that risk?”

  I considered his words for a moment. “This kind of fire won’t destroy. It’ll change and mold us into something new. It will transform.”

  And we were due for a transformation.

  Ezra left close to midnight after we spent another hour talking about Adeline, my sister’s pregnancy, and how well the new album was coming along. We hadn’t caught up like that in a long time, and it felt good to be slowly getting my best friend back, but I was still nervous this improvement was temporary. I badly wanted to talk to him about the band’s future, but it felt still too early for that.

  I washed the dishes from dinner and headed toward my room. The guest bedroom was on the first floor, just to the right of the staircase that led up to my bedroom, and as I passed by the door, I stopped.

  Ezra was getting over his demons and playing a more active role in the band once again. Wasn’t it time for me to conquer my own?

  I knew I couldn’t keep existing in this space between two worlds. One where I had moved past what had happened, and one where I still agonized over the memory of Amy’s face when the full truth had finally come out.

  I gripped the copper handle and twisted until the lock clicked. The door eased open under my touch. This room was a picture of generic hospitality, quite unlike my parents’ usual aesthetic of rainbow colors and fractal patterns that made you feel like the summer of love had never ended. I supposed they’d toned it down in here to try to keep their wide variety of guests comfortable.

  The walk-in closet was positioned in the right corner of the room, and something about the closed door leading to it seemed awfully menacing. I shook my head and crossed the space in a few big steps. There was a monster hiding in there, but it no longer had claws.

  I could make out the paintings stacked against each other on the floor even before flicking on the light, but when they became illuminated, a sense of relief swept through me. I didn’t expect that being here and looking right at them would take away their power, but somehow, this simple act had done exactly that.

  Reaching for the canvas closest to me, I flipped it around and stared at a face that…Well, it might as well have been the face of a stranger. The feelings I’d been so afraid would rise right to the surface if I’d ever looked at these paintings again never came.

  I reached for the other paintings, flipping them over and lining all eleven around the perimeter of the closet. My gaze drifted over
each one, but even their combined impact was no more than a quiver in my gut. It could have also been the fact that I’d had too much fiber at dinner.

  Footsteps sounded behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to see my mom in her nightgown—an enormous Grateful Dead T-shirt that reached past her knees.

  “So you finally made it back here.” I could hear the sad smile in her voice. “How does it feel?”

  “It feels like…nothing, actually.”

  She came up to stand beside me and threaded her arm through mine. “You know, I think I had misremembered what these looked like. They’re not your best work.”

  I snorted out a laugh. “I thought you liked all of my art. Even the watercolors I stuffed in all your purses as a kid before the paint had dried.”

  Her laugh was rich with memories. “I’m not saying these are awful, just that I know you’re capable of so much more. You have a lot of love to give, Cole. When you find someone who deserves it, that’s when you’ll produce your best work.”

  “Nice prophecy, Mom.”

  “You know, I’ve been shown things throughout my life,” she responded, ignoring my jab. “And I’m good at reading energies. We never talked about Amy’s because I knew you’d never listen to me back then, but I sensed there was something off about her from the moment we met. It was this cloying sweetness that nearly choked up any room she was in. Delicious and addicting at first, but ultimately deadly.”

  She quieted and looked around at the paintings. “What will you do with them?”

  “I don’t know. I was going to burn them in the backyard but now I don’t feel like its worth the effort.”

  She made a clucking noise. “You’d ruin the grass. I can put them out on the curb during garbage day if you’re really ready to say goodbye.”

  I patted her hand. “That works for me. Thanks, Mom.”

  Her hand landed on my shoulder, and she tugged until l was facing her. “I’m glad you’re moving on, son.”

  “It’s time.”

  Her smile was gentle. “It sure is. And I think I know what finally pushed you to this realization.”

  “Let me guess, something to do with energies,” I quipped.

  “You can joke all you want, but my sense has never failed me. I think it was that beautiful girl you brought home today. Her energy is layered, but her foundation is pure healing light. No wonder both you and Ezra are so drawn to her.”

  I blushed. My mom might be a hippie, but I had no intention of talking to her about my and Ezra’s mutual desire for Adeline. That was a step too far, even for my family.

  “She is…quite special,” I offered in response to my mother’s knowing look.

  Upstairs, my bed wasn’t made. I hadn’t bothered with it this morning since I’d been in a rush to get to the studio on time. For all the three albums we’d recorded together, I’d never been this eager to show up for rehearsals, but of course, everything was different this time. This time, we all arrived early, every single day, and got to work without much argument.

  Adeline couldn’t know this, but the reason this album was going so smoothly had fuck all to do with any of us. It was all her and the effect she had on us.

  The transformation had already begun.

  14

  ADELINE

  We were in a good rhythm and had finished recording the fourth track by the end of the day on Friday when I got a call from Frankie.

  “Adeline! Oh, thank God, you picked up. Phoebe came down with a fever this morning, and it looks like I’m going to need to take her to the hospital. I just called everyone, and no one can cover for me. You’re my last hope.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. “You start in thirty?”

  “Uh-huh, until midnight. I can take your shift tomorrow if you want. I’ll be able to get a babysitter for then.”

  I pressed the phone between my shoulder and my ear and started to pack up. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

  Cole picked up on my conversation and twisted in his chair to look at me.

  “You are a godsend. Thank you so much.”

  “No problem. I hope Phoebe feels better. Text me later to let me know, okay?”

  “Of course. Thanks again!”

  I stuffed the phone into the back pocket of my jeans and checked to make sure I had all my things.

  “What’s up?” Cole asked, his brows furrowing at my rush to leave.

  “I need to cover for someone at the bar,” I explained. “My coworker’s kid got sick.”

  He scratched his head. “I almost forgot you were still working there. Hey, maybe Ezra and I will stop by. We were planning on hanging out tonight.”

  “Sure,” I responded absentmindedly, halfway out the door. “Bye, guys, see you on Monday,” I waved at the rest of the band and left.

  I got to the bar five minutes before Frankie’s shift was due to start and discovered the place was a disaster. Apparently, a conference in town had wrapped up in the early afternoon, and all the attendees had decided it was a perfect opportunity for a Friday happy hour. I had to shove my way through a sea of khakis and checkered shirts to get to the bar. Melanie, the bartender who worked the day-time shift, had had no time to restock, and to top it off, one of the kegs needed to be changed.

  Stuffing my things into a locker in the back, I scrambled to get everything back in order, while also helping Melanie close out some of the tables that were ready to leave.

  “I’m so glad you came in,” Melanie whispered, her peroxide-blond hair pulled back in a loose pony. “I was this close to strangling that guy in the blue suit for calling me ‘babe’ this entire time.”

  I shuddered. “The absolute worst.”

  An hour later, half of the conference crew left, and the place was starting to feel like a typical Friday night at the Crooked Stool. Two college-aged girls walked in, sporting long extensions, fake lashes, and crop tops. They gave me friendly smiles and sat down at the bar.

  “Two margs, please,” the brunette ordered. “Extra salt.”

  “You got it,” I responded and reached for the margarita mix.

  “What’s the scene here like on Fridays?” the redhead asked, briefly looking up at me from her phone. “Does it get any busier later?”

  “Yeah, usually there’s a bigger crowd after eight. It was packed about an hour ago with middle-aged dudes wearing lanyards, but I’m guessing that’s not the crowd you’re looking for.”

  The brunette snorted. “No, thanks. Any guys that are cute and not twice our age?”

  “They can be twice my age if they’re hot,” her friend interjected. “You know, salt and pepper, DILF vibes, that kinda thing.”

  I laughed as I went to grab their glasses. Is this what my life would’ve been like if I’d gone off to college instead of staying home and working here? Maybe I’d be hitting up bars on Friday nights with my best friend instead of working at one.

  “If you’re lucky, we might get some college guys who are home for the summer. The regulars are all… Well, let’s just say they’re not of the DILF variety.”

  The girls grabbed their drinks. “Well, we’ll hang out for a while,” the redhead said and took a sip of her cocktail. “Oh yum, these are good.”

  “Thanks.” I winked at her and made my way to another customer.

  70s rock was playing on the radio, and a pool game was starting up in the far end of the bar. The ambient soundtrack was starting to pick up in volume—clinking glasses, bursts of laughter, and a cacophony of voices. Like some kind of Pavlovian response, my mind started to drift, letting my body’s muscle memory handle the process of taking and making orders.

  “All right, it’s eight-fifteen, and we’ve got slim pickings,” the redhead complained forty-five minutes later.

  I gave her a distracted smile while I made two old fashioneds for the table by the door. “You ladies want another round?”

  The brunette spun her head around, taking in the patrons one more time. “Nah, we’ll close out.”r />
  I carried the two drinks around the bar. “Let me just drop these off, and I’ll be right back to give you your bill.”

  The door to the bar swung open at the exact moment I placed the glasses down. Two excited gasps came from behind me as I lifted my eyes to the newcomers.

  “Mmm, that looks good,” Cole purred, examining the two cocktails I had just delivered. “Could you make that for me with three cherries, doll?”

  I swatted at him with my towel, and Cole nearly stomped on Ezra’s toes as he tried to jump out of the way.

  “Is that how you treat your customers here?” Ezra joked, sidestepping around Cole and pulling me into a hug.

  “Only the ones that call me doll.” I gave Cole the side eye.

  The guys followed me to the bar, completely oblivious of the two women’s excited whispers as they stopped a few feet away from them.

  “It’s busy here tonight,” Ezra commented, glancing around.

  “Yeah, it’s been kinda mad. I probably won’t have much time to hang out with you guys, I’m the only bartender for the evening,” I said with an apologetic look.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Cole said. “We can entertain ourselves, and I kinda wanted to see you in your element.”

  I snickered. “It’s like one step above watching paint dry, but to each their own. So old fashioneds? Three cherries?”

  Cole winked. “You got it.”

  Sending the guys off to a table, I got started on their drinks.

  “Hey, bartender!”

  I turned around, seeing the two girls looking at me expectantly.

  “Oh, crap, I’m sorry. I forgot your bill.”

  The redhead’s eyes bulged. “Forget it! We’re not leaving now. You’ve been holding out on us, girlfriend! Who the fuck is that?”

  Her friend had turned around on her stool and was looking at Ezra and Cole, fanning herself with her palm.

  The fierce surge of jealousy that coursed through me as I put the situation together was a shock. I glanced between the women and the guys who had just settled into a booth, suddenly at a loss for something to say.