Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
U nfortunately, the inside of the house did not live up to its grounds. We stand in the dated kitchen, and I admit as much to the real estate agents. For her part, Jenna doesn’t say anything but her facial expressions say she agrees with me. Besides, for five million, I don’t want to buy a fixer-upper.
Angie takes it all in stride and passes me another piece of paper. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s double the price but is done from top to bottom.”
“Sounds better.” Hell, if I am going to buy a new home, I don’t want to have to dick around with making improvements to bring it up to this century.
Car keys twirl around King’s fingers. “Think it’s safe to go in our own cars?”
I bet he said this for me, thinking I have a thing for Jenna. Well, if I’m being honest with myself, he’s not wrong. I’m being sucked into her aura of authenticity, and I like it. What does she want with me, though? I’m merely a patient in her eyes. Our few kisses can be chalked up to misguided judgment. Or maybe she has a thing for rock stars? However, she did agree to tour houses with me. This has to mean something. Doesn’t it?
Jenna surprises me by responding, “I think the coast is clear. I haven’t seen a reporter since we got here, and I’ve been checking all the windows.”
“Then it’s settled. King and I will see you at this next house in fifteen minutes.” We walk out with Angie and King, who lock up behind us.
“I can drive,” I offer. Inside, I think: Please don’t make me, though. If the paparazzi find us, I don’t want a repeat of last night.
“It seems quiet now, Bennett. I’ll drive.” She presses her key fob and the doors unlock.
I’m still a gentleman. I walk to her door and open it, bowing low. “After you, Candy Kong.”
Her giggle is my reward for remembering the girlfriend of her favorite arcade game, Donkey Kong. This is Jenna’s first sign of humor since we checked the tabloids this morning. The sound makes my stomach flip, and not in a bad way. Once she’s seated, I close her door and walk to the passenger side.
“My leg doesn’t hurt today,” I note.
“Great. I was hoping you’d say that. You’ve been rehabbing hard. So long as you keep to linear movements, I think you’ll be fine.”
I click my seatbelt. “Do you agree with me about this house? The interior didn’t live up to the exterior?”
She starts the car and plugs in the address to the next property into her GPS. “Yeah. Too bad, though. It’s on a gorgeous lot.”
She enters an empty street, and I release my pent-up worry. We’re alone on the road. “I appreciate you taking time away from your work to help me escape the press.”
“It was actually a little fun,” Jenna replies. “Sort of cloak and dagger. I appreciate how you deflected them.”
“They have no right to call you nasty names. They’re idiots.”
“Not sure about their IQs, but I’ll give it to you, they’re a nasty group of people. Seems like all they want to do is sell photos and lies. ”
The tight skin around her eyes gives away how much their nickname hurt her. “Hey. We know the truth about what happened. You had nothing to do with Darren’s death. Nothing at all. Hell, you probably kept him from overdosing several times before.”
Her fingers around the steering wheel tighten but she doesn’t say anything. Which leads me to believe she did stop him before that night.
“You did, didn’t you?”
The GPS now has her full attention. I don’t push, I don’t have to. I replay her reaction when I had to tell her of his passing. She was out of her mind with grief, sure, but there was a discordant note I never quite placed. Like she thought his death was inevitable. A burden she carried for too long.
This line of thought brings me to 007, and the fact he was in Darren’s room that terrible morning. Like he routinely checked on his best friend. As if he knew something bad could’ve happened during the night.
I shelve my thoughts about 007 and focus on the woman here with me. “Jenna. I’m sorry.” What else can I say?
“It wasn’t my fault, I know that. He was my boyfriend, not my responsibility. It sucks how he died, and I wasn’t able to stop it.” She pulls up to the security guardhouse for the community and gives him King’s name. Sporting a new temporary pass, we push forward.
In the driver’s seat, she appears tiny and fragile. But I know this woman is anything but—she’s running two, soon to be three, physical therapy clinics. There’s true grit in her. No wonder Darren fell head over heels for her.
“You’re right. His death is on him. If he was aware he wasn’t keeping track of when he took meds, he should’ve written the doses down.”
“I told him to do that.” She continues to stare at the road.
I turn in my seat, with care. My thigh doesn’t protest. I reach out and stroke her arm. “He was a great guy, and he treated you like the princess you are. ”
She bounces backward. “I’m hardly a princess.”
“Well, I think so for the both of us. Don’t beat yourself up anymore, okay?”
She inhales. “I think we’re here.” She turns off the road and drives up a long driveway, parking next to King and Angie, who open our doors for us.
“Welcome to Secluded Rest,” King announces.
I like the name already. The thought of having some secluded rest, away from prying eyes of all types, has appeal.
He runs down the exterior description, including the mile-long circular driveway and old-growth trees. We walk up the stairs—I slow us down, but no one seems to care—and go through a double-door entryway that opens into an oversized foyer, featuring two coat closets and a two-sided curved staircase up to the second level.
“Wow.” Jenna’s assessment isn’t wrong.
“Yeah, wow.”
King and Angie show us the public spaces, including a massive family room complete with a fireplace. The kitchen is Gordon Ramsey-worthy. Several other rooms complete the first floor, including a guest bedroom with an en suite .
“This room, tucked into the back of the house, could be converted into a music room without too much effort.” King leads us to a large room in the center of the house, without any windows. “My father said he prefers to practice without access to the outside to distract him. I thought you might like the same.”
I walk around the room, picturing the band in here with their instruments. Me? As the lead singer, I only need a music stand. If I were to host UC, which I’ve never done, this room would be perfect. I give King a nod and we move outside.
“Out here,” King continues, “there’s a pool, outdoor kitchen, fire pit and, of course, the ocean.”
“Of course,” Jenna murmurs.
“This is great,” I admit. “Does the boat come with the property? ”
“It doesn’t mention it on the listing, but I can check for you,” Angie replies. As if this is a done deal.
Jenna makes a beeline toward the gardens, bending down to examine the plants. “She’s something special,” Angie notes, her gaze following Jenna throughout the yard. “I can see her blossoming, with the right partner.”
“I can too,” King adds.
Too bad that partner won’t be me. Not because my emotions aren’t involved, though. I simply can’t imagine she’d be interested in another UC band member.
“I’m not him.” I walk and, unseeing, end up in the outdoor kitchen. My rental in LA has one of these, but this one is even more tricked out. A wine fridge, built into rocks, pushes it over the edge.
Angie gathers us together and takes the tour upstairs—I manage them, although slowly—pointing out the five bedrooms, each with their own full en suites . All of the rooms are painted different yet coordinating colors, evoking a spa-like environment.
We walk down a long hallway. Before we come up to the primary suite, King stops, grins, and points.
“Holy moly! Is that an elevator?” Jenna’s exclamation is adorable.
I’ve been to many a house with an elevator, and this one here does increase the appeal of this mansion, despite it being way too big a house for only me.
King answers, “Sure is. For times when the stairs are simply too much. Or,” he focuses on my thigh, “if you have an injury.”
“Seems like the owners thought of everything,” I remark.
“Sure did.” Angie leads us farther down the hall and opens the doors to the primary suite. The view is stunning. It overlooks the backyard and the ocean beyond.
“This is amazing,” I say. My feet take me to the French doors, which lead to a sizeable balcony.
“Told you Aroostook would grow on you, dude,” King says.
A crash comes from the bathroom, which causes me to spin in that direction. Which, of course, causes my muscle to spasm. My head flies up to the sky. “Fuck!”
Jenna rushes to my side. “Oh no. I’m so sorry. I was checking out the shower and dropped the standing towel rack.”
I take in her explanation, but it doesn’t soothe my fucking thigh.
“I’ll go get an ice pack.” Jenna’s out of the room in a flash.
Angie takes over. “Let’s get you into this chair.”
King helps me limp to a club chair beside the bed. I sit and raise the leg rest, which relieves some of the pressure.
Two alarms go off. Both King and Angie check their phones, dismissing the notifications. Because I want attention off my injury, I rasp, “What’s up?”
Angie replies, “We have a meeting in our office with the studio in a half-hour.”
“We can skip it,” King interjects.
My head shakes before my mouth catches up. “No. I don’t want to be the reason you skip a meeting.” I place my hands on the armrest and begin to right the chair.
Jenna runs into the room. “I found this towel. Not my ideal ice pack, but it’ll do.”
Angie asks, “How long should he have it on?”
“Thirty minutes,” my physical therapist replies in time with my mental answer.
The couple exchange a glance. King says, “Jenna, if we show you how to lock up, would you mind taking care of that for us? We need to get back to the office before then and we don’t want to interfere with Bennett’s recovery.”
I hate feeling like a baby.
“Are you sure that would be all right?” Jenna doesn’t direct her question to me, rather seeks confirmation from Angie.
“Yes, it’s perfectly fine—the homeowners aren’t in town anyway.” Angie points. “We weren’t able to show you the basement, which has a bowling alley, massive bar, state-of-the-art workout room, some arcade games, and another full bath. ”
“I’ll take your word that it’s gorgeous.” In the chair, I ensure my leg is stretched and my thigh covered with the ice. King and Angie nod at me, then they leave. Jenna follows them.
A few minutes later, Jenna approaches me again. “What’s your pain level?”
“Right now, I’d give it about an eight.” Nearing ten, but I keep this to myself. She already feels bad enough.
“I’m so sorry about the noise.”
“You didn’t mean it.”
She goes to lift the ice pack again, and I catch her wrist. “Let it be.”
I pull her downward until she’s sitting on the arm of the chair. I slide my butt to the side and she slips into the main chair with me. I cup her cheek. “Distract me.”
She sucks in air. Her eyes roam over my face, her pink tongue peeping out of her mouth. I want to kiss her silly, but I don’t know if that’s what she wants. Or needs.
Since when do I wonder what a woman needs?
“I’ve watched your performances on YouTube with the new guy.”
“Tris,” I supply. “He’s great on keys in a different way than Darren was.”
“Yeah. I hear you.” She twists her hips so her left one rests on the main cushion. Her arm snakes toward the ice pack, then detours to my forearm. “You guys are great.”
“Thanks.” For some reason, I want to confess a truth to her. Something that’s been eating at me since dinner. “We’re not really friends, you know.”
She tilts her head.
“UC. Granted, we’ve known each other for ages—well, except Tris—but I don’t think of the guys as my friends. Don’t get me wrong. We laugh a lot and perform together onstage. But I don’t consider them to be my friends.”
Jenna continues stroking my forearm. “None of them?”
“Not really.” No one knows about my mother. Or cares to delve too deep into any of my lyrics. “When we’re not on tour, we don’t hang out together.”
“But Darren used to get together with Pierce all the time.”
“Well, true. Those two were rather inseparable.”
“What about River and Cooper? They always were hanging around with Darren. I remember him telling me about their exploits.”
I swallow. “Yeah, well, they did graduate high school together. They formed Untamed Coaster before I joined it.”
Her hand stills. “Aren’t you lonely?”
Ever since Dad died, I’ve been on my own. No need to get into the lying POS, Curtiss . “My best friend growing up was my father. He died when I was seventeen.” She has to understand this. She was raised by a single parent.
“But your mother?—”
“She’s still alive. We’ve never been close.”
She squeezes my arm. “I can be your person.”
I want to shake my head to confirm I heard her quiet offer right. Instead, I place my hand over hers. “Are you offering to be my—?” I can’t voice the word.
Grey eyes, opened wide, lift to mine. “I’d like to be your friend.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m not sure I would know what to do with one of those, Jenna.” I do know what I want to do with the woman almost in my arms, though. “Come here.”
Something breaks inside me. I drag her to my body and kiss her as if this was my last opportunity ever. She’s stirred up all sorts of odd feelings in me, ones I haven’t felt since my high school girlfriend. I pour my heart out to her with my touch. She fuels my hunger, kissing me back as if I mean something to her.
I leave her mouth and trail tiny kisses down her neck, around her chin, and end at her ear. After nibbling on her lobe, I blow into it, which causes her body to roll into mine.
The ice pack falls off my thigh and onto the floor.
She giggles. “I think your thirty minutes is done. Let’s get you downstairs and into the car.” Rosy-cheeked, Jenna scrambles off the chair and removes the ice pack. “Put the chair into its normal position and I’ll help you up.”
It’s bad enough she has to give me physical therapy. She doesn’t have to help me stand, too. “I can do it. My pain level has dropped.”
“To what? A level seven?”
I query my body. “Yeah.”
She grins. “Get the footrest down.” After I do this, she continues, “Place your hands on the arms and stand.”
Using all my upper-body strength, I get to my feet without her help. “See. Told you I could do it.”
“Impressive. Now let’s try to take a few steps.”
I do, the pain from my pulled muscle manageable. Especially when I limp. However, I do admit defeat and take the elevator to the first floor. In the foyer, I catch my breath while she returns the makeshift ice pack to the kitchen.
My mind spins with our interlude upstairs. She wanted my kiss. I sure as hell wanted hers. Can we really be starting something new and different? Can we do this without Darren in bed with us?
Her slender arm goes around my waist. “Ready to do this?”
“I am. Thank you, Jenna. For everything.”
“You’re more than welcome.” She rests her head on my shoulder for a moment. “Let’s go.”
We make it all the way to the car where I lean against the door while she locks up. She presses some buttons on her phone. “There. Texted Angie that we’re leaving. Now’s the big question, where do you want to go? To your rental to change? Or directly to the clinic?”
I dip my head. “I’ve been in these clothes since last night, and they’re not the right ones for therapy. Do you mind taking me to my rental? I’ll be quick so you can make your meeting.”
She adjusts her ponytail. “Sure thing.”
We get into the car, which takes me longer more because I anticipate pain rather than feel it. “What did you think of the property?”
I consider her question. “I like it. The views are amazing, and I love the backyard. There seem to be a few too many rooms, though. What do I need with so many bedrooms?”
“What if the band wanted to crash at your place?”
“Didn’t you hear what I told you? We don’t hang out when we’re not performing.”
“I heard you. I just think it’s sad. You’re missing out on so much. I remember Darren telling me about backyard BBQs and going to visit sites in various places when you guys were touring.”
“Yeah, well. Those were his experiences.”
She stops at a light and turns her head toward me. “What did you do when they were out?”
I shrug. “Dunno. Probably hung out at a local bar or club.”
“Sounds lonely.”
My lip quirks. “I can assure you, I wasn’t alone.”
“Hooking up with random women is different from spending quality time with friends.” She presses on the gas when the light changes.
Friends. There’s that word again. I’m not ready to confess my utter lack of them—correction, my lack of need for such frivolity. “I’m a loner. I prefer it that way.”
Her finger taps against the steering wheel. “You do you.” Her lips purse.
Why does it feel as if I sabotaged anything between Jenna and me before it even began?