Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
I stood in the kitchen the next morning, staring at the coffeepot, willing it to hurry up.
I was fucking exhausted.
After that make-out session in the bridal shop, I’d slept with one eye open and a semi all fucking night, just hoping I’d hear the telltale sounds of creaking floorboards as Elena snuck into my room.
But she hadn’t.
And now, I was bleary-eyed, exhausted, confused, and horny as fuck.
The two of us had gotten into Ocracoke late last night, barely catching the last ferry of the day. Elena had fallen asleep in the car, and I lost track of the number of times I had to stop myself from sneaking a glance at her while she slept. By the time we got home and I woke her up, her eyes fluttering open in confusion, I knew it was time to call it a night. I helped her into the house, and she gave me a sleepy good night at her bedroom door. I went to my own door and tried not to overthink everything that had happened that day.
That obviously didn’t happen.
I’d replayed every damn minute—from the drive to the shop and the fucking dressing room.
It had all started off as a game.
But when it came to Elena Mendez, I was quickly starting to realize that this game had no rules and the stakes were high.
When I told myself she was off-limits, I only wanted her more. When I tried to convince myself she was just another hookup, I’d picture her in that damn wedding dress, and my heart started to race.
I wanted to run away from her and hold her tight at the exact same time.
Nothing in my life was normal anymore. The moment I’d said yes to Manic, I had given up any semblance of normal, and I knew this time in Ocracoke was merely a countdown before the madness started. It was wrong to start something with her when I was forced to lie. And yet I still couldn’t walk away.
I blew out a breath as I grabbed a mug from the cupboard, just as my phone started to buzz. I turned to grab it off the counter, hoping it was Hendrix.
It wasn’t.
I swallowed nervously and looked down the hallway. Finally, I picked it up.
“Hey, Ash,” I answered.
“Z,” he greeted in that familiar Scottish brogue that had made him a household name. It had that rough quality that all rock stars possessed, but the deep, sophisticated timbre of someone who’d been classically trained. “Hope I didn’t wake you up.”
“Me?” I chuckled. “You’re the one on West Coast time.” I looked at the clock on the coffee machine. It was around five in the morning in Los Angeles.
“I like to get my day started early,” he confessed.
“That’s not very rock and roll of you,” I goaded him, peaking down the hallway. Still clear.
“Yeah, well, I’ve always had to be the grown-up of the lot. Even more so lately.” I could hear the pain in his voice still.
Manic at Midnight had always been a tight group. They’d formed the band young and grown up together. They were the kind of success stories people fell in love with. Losing Mitch hadn’t just been personal; it had been devastating and nearly destroyed them.
It was a choice they’d had to make, but it hadn’t come easy.
“Listen,” he said, changing the subject quickly. “I wanted to run something by you.”
“All right.”
“The guys and I have been asked to do a charity concert in a couple of weeks. It will be recorded in front of an audience and broadcast live.”
Live? My stomach churned. Shit’s getting real.
“Ridge and I thought it might be the perfect time to make your grand introduction.”
“On national television?” I was pretty sure my voice jumped an octave.
He laughed, “We don’t do many television appearances, other than award shows, and with all the press still surrounding Mitch, we want to try to redirect that.” His voice dipped like it physically pained him to say his name.
“I get it,” I said.
Mitch had not only fucked over the band; he’d ruined a young girl’s life in the process. Since she’d recently turned eighteen, her name had been leaked, and she’d been dragged through the mud by the press. Asher and the band were doing everything they could for her, including trying to redirect the headlines.
“So, what do you think?”
“Uh, what day?” I asked, grabbing the back of my neck as I paced the kitchen.
He rattled off the date, and I realized it was the day after Macon’s wedding. A pit in my stomach formed. I knew I was going to have to leave here, but now, it all seemed so…final.
“How soon would you need me?” I asked, explaining to him my time crunch.
“You could fly out the day of, as long as you get there early enough for sound check.”
How was I going to explain this to Macon? To Elena?
I was just going to board that ferry without being able to say a word and then show up on national television the next day?
Fuck my life.
“All right,” I agreed nonetheless. “Sounds good.”
“Great. I’ll have Ridge set up the rest and contact you and Lance with the details. I just wanted to be the one to call and ask,” he explained. “I know you probably feel like you’re being thrown into a shitstorm, but we’re glad you’re joining us.”
I thought back to my months with them, and I smiled. “Yeah, me, too.”
“Enjoy your brother’s wedding. And the last few moments of peace.” He said it sort of jokingly, but I couldn’t miss the hint of sadness in his tone.
I’d always known I was leaving. I only had three weeks in Ocracoke and that time was dwindling quicker than sand in an hourglass. But for some reason, that phone call had just made everything feel so real.
This had an end date.
Was it even fair for us to start something?
Kind of too late for that…
I blew out a breath, took a sip of my coffee and set it down. I texted Hendrix to see if he was awake.
me
You never texted me when you got home.
His text back to me was almost immediate.
Hendrix
Are you my mommy now?
me
Your mom is a lot meaner than I am. What the fuck are you doing up?
Hendrix
What the fuck are you doing, texting me, if you didn’t think I was up? Also, I’m on East Coast time.
I snorted. East Coast time . What the actual fuck?
me
You can’t be on East Coast time. You were here for two days.
Hendrix
Tell that to my brain. Now, what the hell do you want?
me
Damn, Jet-lagged Hendrix is grumpy. I need advice.
Hendrix
Is it about Elena?
me
Maybe.
Hendrix
eye roll emoji Okay, here is my advice…
me
…
Hendrix
Go ask your real brother for a change.
me
You are my real brother.
Hendrix
Aw, that’s sweet. But seriously. He’s literally right there and probably already caffeinated—which I am not. Go bond and shit.
me
Fine.
Hendrix
Now, who’s the grumpy one?
I decided to text Hendrix later about the charity concert when he was more awake and less snippy. I hesitated as I pulled up the chat history I had with my brother. We hadn’t texted each other since that day I’d come back on the ferry, and I wondered if we had the kind of relationship that included this type of thing anymore.
I used to ask him for advice all the time, but that was when I was a kid and I needed to know which action hero was better—Wolverine or Spider-Man.
Wolverine, obviously.
A part of me really wanted to just stay here and wait for Elena to emerge from her bedroom so we could continue whatever the hell we’d started in that dressing room.
’Cause, fucking hell, that had been hot.
But I also knew I needed to sort a few things out of my head before I went near her because if I managed to catch her alone again? All bets were off, and I owed it to her to figure out what I wanted first.
I sent a quick text to my brother before I could second-guess myself.
me
You busy this morning?
Macon also texted back almost immediately. Everyone was glued to their phones today.
Macon
Nope. Covering for one of the deputies in the PM, so I’m off this morning. What’s up?
me
Want to meet for coffee?
Macon
Sure. Give me thirty?
me
Sounds good.
It was just enough time to shower and change.
By the time I was walking back down the hallway, I could hear Elena stirring in her room. My stomach fluttered with the memory of her body wrapped around mine, and the urge to stop at her door was strong.
But instead, I kept walking, and when I got into my rental car, I sent her a text, letting her know I was meeting Macon and that I’d be back later. By the time I got to the coffee shop, I had a thumbs-up emoji from her and a request for a bear claw.
I couldn’t help the dumb grin that spread across my face.
Macon’s truck was already in the parking lot, so I headed inside to find him. The door chimed as I opened it, and I scanned the tables, eventually finding him at the back of the line at the counter. The place was fairly busy, but not so bad that I feared we wouldn’t find a place to sit.
“Morning,” I said as I took a place next to him.
“Morning,” he parroted. “How was yesterday? I heard you didn’t get in until late.”
I raised my brow, and he chuckled.
“First thing you’ve got to know about Marin and Elena is, they talk. All day, every day. About everything and anything.”
“And what Elena tells Marin, she tells you?”
He shrugged. “Some of it. But, no, she doesn’t tell me all of Elena’s secrets.”
“And I’m assuming she told you?—”
He just grinned. “Dressing room, huh?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Nice.”
“So, are you gonna tell me what she told you? Or am I gonna have to bribe it out of you?”
“You’re asking me to breach my wife’s confidence?”
Someone said hi to Macon as they headed to the exit, and he gave a friendly nod.
“She’s not your wife yet. Also, uh, yeah,” I said plainly, “spill the tea.”
“Jesus, you are a West Coaster now, aren’t you?”
I just laughed as we moved forward in line.
Finally, he let out a sigh. “Fine, but only because you’re my brother and also ’cause I don’t want you to mess this up. But I want the biggest fucking latte they make and at least three doughnuts. It would have been six, but Marin spared me the gory dressing room details. Thank fuck.”
“Done. Although, if that’s what we’re basing it on, I think you owe me a few doughnuts after having to hear Billy’s lawn furniture story. Seriously, I might never be able to go to a cookout again.”
He snorted. “Probably shouldn’t sit anywhere in our house then.”
Dude, gross.
“Also, we applied for the marriage license, and I bought the ring, so she’s my damn wife.”
His logic was flawed, but I didn’t think anyone could argue when he had that dopey smile on his face.
We got to the counter, and I found myself face-to-face with none other than the Manic Fanatic teen from the engagement party. Her eyes latched on to me, grazing over the leather bomber I’d specifically worn to cover my tattoos in public. Her face scrunched in confusion. Finally, Macon got her attention, and I let out a sigh of relief. Hendrix had been keeping up the ruse on my social media that I was in LA, so when we finished ordering and the girl moved on to the next customer without bothering to look up, I knew it must be working.
We found a table near the back and settled in while we waited for our order to be ready. Macon leaned back in his chair, his overgrown haircut such a contrast to the military buzz cut I remembered him with. I’d thought that would be the last time I saw him.
I was glad it wasn’t.
“So, you got a fetish for women in wedding dresses?” he teased as his arms folded casually across his chest. He was dressed down this morning in tan shorts and a dark blue shirt that sported the logo for Billy’s restaurant.
I wonder if they have those in black…
I shook my head and shrugged. “I blame Billy Idol, honestly.”
My brother chuckled. I thought about the way her eyes had come alive when I asked her what color wedding dress she’d choose.
“I just wanted her to have a bit of fun. I get the feeling that she doesn’t have a lot of it.”
He looked pensive. “She works a lot,” he stated.
“So do I. So do you,” I answered. “Are you saying she works a lot and you don’t think she enjoys it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Does she date?” I moved on, hating the question before I even finished asking it.
“I feel like these are things you should be asking her.” He gave me a pointed stare.
This is not three doughnuts’ worth of tea.
“Okay, fair,” I relented.
His loyalty to Elena surprised and delighted me. It was annoying as fuck, but I was glad to see someone stand up for her.
Even if it was against me.
“So, what’s your plan with all this, Zander? ’Cause I know where you live and I know where she lives…”
I shifted in my seat. Okay, whose big brother was he? Hers or mine? I thought I liked Hendrix’s just go for it form of advice better. These pointed questions were making me squirm.
“Hell. I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Up until yesterday, I had a solid plan of steering clear of starting anything with Elena.”
“So, what changed?”
“Fuck if I know,” I said. “I can’t think clearly when I’m with her. She’s…” I stalled.
“What?”
“Different. She’s different, okay? God, I sound like a fucking tool.”
“You kind of do.” He grinned. “But hold that thought.” He got up and headed for the counter to grab our food and drinks.
I sat back in my seat and waited, letting my mind wander for a moment. Okay, not exactly wander. It was definitely going back to a specific moment in time—when I’d had Elena pinned up against that mirror. The skirt of her dress had shifted, baring her legs and her black lace panties.
Jesus.
It had taken all the willpower I possessed to keep my hand from slipping underneath them and finding out just how wet she was for me.
“Oh my God, is that Zander Green?!” someone shouted behind me.
My whole body stiffened as I remembered those parting words Asher had said to me this morning.
“Enjoy your brother’s wedding. And the last few moments of peace.”
Were they already over?
My eyes shifted downward as I tried to burrow into myself like some sort of damn turtle.
Then, my mind finally caught up to the actual words that had been spoken.
Zander Green . Not Zander Tate.
I swiveled around to see Millie McIntyre walking up with my brother, looking like she’d just flown in from Milan or some shit. I’d thought Elena dressed to impress. Millie looked like something out of a magazine ad with mile-high stilettos, a trendy floral dress, and a matching purse.
My gaze darted over to the cash register and I let out a breath of relief when I saw the Manic Fanatic employee was somewhere in the back, out of earshot.
It wasn’t like our Mama gave Macon and me common names like John or Robert.
“Millie McIntyre,” I greeted her, standing to give her a hug.
“Damn, you grew up nice,” she said, blatantly checking me out. “And it’s Millie Fisher now.” She grinned, showing off the giant rock on her hand.
“That’s right.” I nodded. “The artist?”
She beamed, taking a seat next to us as Macon handed me my coffee and did the same. “Yep. Somehow, I managed to move back here and bag the only British guy in a hundred miles. Fucking hot, too.”
“A hundred miles? Did you conduct a survey?”
She punched my arm affectionately. “Oh, shut up. But enough about me and my amazing life. How are you? Marin told me you’re a musician?” She eyed me intently.
“Yep, I’ve done all right for myself.”
“More than all right,” Macon boasted, and I couldn’t help but notice the way Millie watched me for a reaction. “You should hear some of the bands he’s worked with.”
He’d only known of a few of them when I listed them off, but I got the feeling that even if he hadn’t, he would have still been impressed and proud.
And didn’t that make me feel like an asshole?
“That’s…awesome.” The remark came slowly as she seemed to be mulling something over. Whatever it was, she seemed to put it aside, beaming up at us. “I still remember you walking all over town with that old guitar strapped to your back.”
Macon and I shared a sad smile, remembering how hard he’d worked to get me it.
“And so you’re here for the wedding? As the best man?”
“Yep,” I confirmed.
“And you and the maid of honor…you’re both staying at Macon’s rental? Together?”
“Uh-huh…”
She crossed her legs, smirking. “You’re totally sleeping together, aren’t you?”
“Jesus, Millie.” Macon looked to the heavens like he was asking for strength. “Some days, I think I miss being the town grump.”
“Oh, you’re still the town grump, Macon. We just support and love you for who you are now,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “It’s called acceptance.” She made a heart sign with her hands.
He rolled his eyes and then looked over at me. “Ignore her and maybe she’ll go away.”
“This is so fucking weird.” I made a motion, pointing at the two of them.
“What is?” they both asked at the same time.
I looked side to side. “The two of you,” I started. “Macon having an engagement party with half the fucking town—including Jake Jameson of all people. It’s like I’m in some alternate twilight zone version of Ocracoke.”
“I know,” Millie agreed. “This place has definitely changed over the last few years—thank God; otherwise, I don’t think I’d survive living here again. But it’s still Ocracoke. People will tell you they live here to escape the drama of the mainland, but then gossip about their neighbors all day long.”
“People love talking trash about each other. That’s universal,” I told her. “It just spreads quicker here.”
“I don’t know.” She stared intently. “Pretty sure the internet has us beat.” She paused, and my heart fluttered. But before I had a chance to dwell on it, she moved on. “And you can thank Marin for Macon and Jake becoming besties?—”
“We are not?—”
She cut him off, eliciting a growl from my brother, “She made his grinchy heart grow a few sizes, and now, he’s much more tolerable. I think the fact that he’s getting laid regularly helps, too.”
“Marin needs new friends.” He shook his head, a slight grin tugging at his lips.
“While we’re on the topic…” Millie said, stealing one of Macon’s doughnuts from right under his nose. He went to protest but instead just rolled his eyes. “Let’s get back to you and Elena.”
“I don’t remember inviting you to join us for coffee,” Macon said.
“Really? Weird.” She just grinned and turned to me. “Anyway, are you sleeping together?”
I looked at my brother, and he just sighed in defeat. I turned back toward Millie.
Fine . Maybe a woman’s opinion wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
“No, we’re not,” I replied, leaning back in my chair. I took a sip of coffee and ran my hands through my hair, feeling like I was suddenly under some sort of weird interrogation.
“But you want to?”
My silence was damning.
“Okay, that’s a yes.” She laughed. “So, what’s the holdup? Is it Macon? Is he cockblocking you ’cause she’s Marin’s best friend? Macon, are you cockblocking your brother?”
“Fuck my life,” he muttered under his breath.
“No,” I answered for him. “No one’s…cockblocking.” Kill me now.
“Oh.” She seemed relieved. “So, then what is it? Can’t be a problem with attraction. ’Cause you’re both shit hot, and I saw you eye-fucking the hell out of each other at the engagement party.”
My eyes had been all over Elena that night, and I hadn’t exactly been subtle about it. Good to know it had been reciprocated.
“It’s timing,” I admitted because if I didn’t fess up soon, we’d all be here until next week with the way she was rambling. “The two of us are only here until the wedding, and then she goes back to Richmond, and I?—”
“Ah.” She nodded, not waiting for me to finish. “The distance dilemma.”
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
“So, obviously, what you feel for her is more than a casual hookup.”
“I don’t know.”
“That wasn’t a question,” she stated. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be concerned about a time or distance constraint. In fact, you’d probably be looking forward to moving on to someone new.”
Someone new?
My chest tightened as I imagined her at a restaurant, laughing at a joke her date had just told her.
“Don’t like that idea very much, do you?” She observed me.
“I hadn’t really thought about it until now.”
“But now, you are, and you want to rip this faceless fucker’s face off?”
“Yeah, a little,” I confessed, looking up at her like she was some sort of wise Prada-wearing Buddha.
“I’ve done the distance-dilemma thing.” Her face seemed to be haunted by a painful memory. “Eventually one or both of you will have to make a choice.”
“What choice?”
She gave me one of those looks. The kind mothers gave their toddlers when they couldn’t figure out how to open a banana. “A distance dilemma can only be solved if one of you decides to close the gap. Or meet in the middle—that’s what Aiden and I did.”
My gut churned because I knew my fate was already set. I’d signed a binding contract making it so, which only left?—
“Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?” I questioned. “We’re still getting to know each other, and you’re talking about uprooting lives.”
“It’s just something to think about.”
I let out a sigh. “I don’t know if that’s even what I?—”
“Then, just go in with an open mind,” she suggested.
“So, I’m just supposed to go in with absolutely no plan, assuming that if this is meant to be, it will all work out?”
Macon was the one to answer this time. “Isn’t that what we do most of the time anyway? Just figure it out as we go and hope for the best?”
“Well, yeah, I guess. I was just hoping for something a bit more concrete.”
They both laughed, and then Millie said, “You can’t start a relationship, thinking of all the reasons it might fail—because it will fail. There is no plan when it comes to this kind of thing. You simply have to decide to try.” She gave me a wry grin. “Love is chaos. Surrender to the madness.”
After Billy’s overshare at the beach, the last place I wanted to be was anywhere near my brother’s backyard and all the mental images it brought up. But, that weekend, he and Marin decided to host a cookout.
“Just a few people,” he’d assured me. “Bring whatever.”
Considering my last few days had been virtually Elena-free, I was willing to basically attend any event—tainted lawn furniture be damned—if it meant I got to see her. If Marin didn’t give Elena some time off soon, I’d be forced to steal her a way for a day or two. We were running out of time.
me
Do you want to drive to the cookout together? I’m running to the market to pick up something to bring, but I can swing by.
Elena
I’m actually already here. But could you pick up some extra dessert? Marin is hormonal.
me
And brownies will fix that?
Elena
Well, coffee would be her first choice, but…
me
Bring all the brownies. Got it.
I swung by the coffee shop and managed to swipe the last of their brownies and homemade potato salad. I also threw in a dozen cookies and a few Rice Krispies treats.
I wasn’t sure who I was trying to impress more—Marin or Elena. Either way, I was stocked up on sweets.
I also dropped by the local market and picked up a small gift for Marin and Macon. Weren’t you supposed to always show up to a party with a gift?
Our parents hadn’t exactly sent us to etiquette classes or whatever, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
I’d spent the morning trying to convince myself that I could keep pace with my brother in the North Carolina heat. I did my fair share of running and weight training back in LA, but if it was hot, my pampered ass ran on a treadmill.
This— this —was bullshit.
My brother ran in one hundred percent humidity like it was a frosty day in December. The sweat rolled down his back while I panted and begged for water. The fucker seemed completely unbothered.
I knew he was ex-military, but even this seemed unnatural.
I’d spent the rest of the day answering a few emails, signing some documents Saul had sent over, and squeezing in some much-needed practice time.
Pulling up to the curb of Macon’s house, I collected all the food and the small gift and headed toward the door. A homemade sign was taped to it that said, Drop the food in the kitchen!!! We’re in the back!!!
So many exclamation points…
I followed the instructions and headed inside. Macon and Marin’s kitchen island was covered with food. Everything from ribs and hot dogs to guacamole and chips. I dropped the desserts near a plate of cupcakes and squeezed the pasta salad somewhere in the middle with everything else. I headed outside with the gift clutched tightly between my hands, already regretting it.
I should have known by the number of cars outside that this was no small cookout.
Half of Ocracoke seemed to be crammed in this tiny backyard.
“Zander!” several people shouted and waved.
Drunk, too, by the sound of it…
I scanned the yard, looking for my brother, and recognized several friendly faces—Jake and Molly, Billy and Eli. I finally found Macon with his arm slung over his fiancée, drinking a Coke Zero, as she munched on a plate piled high with chips, talking with Dean Sutherland—who had also gone to school with Macon—about some Netflix show. I caught his attention, and he waved me over.
“So, this is just a few people?” I looked around with a grin.
He shrugged. “It’s Ocracoke. None of these fuckers have anything to do.” He laughed. “And if you offer them free food and drinks...”
My eyes tracked back to that Coke in my brother’s hand, and I realized I’d never seen him with a drink in his hand since I’d arrived. Our dad was an alcoholic, and although I’d never felt particularly overwhelmed by the presence of it in my life, I wondered if my brother had.
I held out the gift I’d brought to Marin. “I, uh, never got a chance to give you guys a housewarming gift,” I said awkwardly. “Or any gift actually.” I offered the bouquet and the bottle of sparkling apple cider, grateful I’d decided to go for something nonalcoholic for Marin.
Both of them just stared at the flowers. I started to feel uncomfortable.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t get a vase. Do you have one?”
They all burst out laughing.
Like, every single one of them…
The fuck?
I looked up at them, my brows knitting together in confusion.
“Sorry,” Marin apologized. She had to breathe through one word to the next, her eyes wet with tears from her laughter. “Inside joke.”
I pressed my lips together and looked around. “I think I might be the only one on the outside.”
“Be glad for that,” Dean said, slapping his hand on my shoulder. I’d forgotten he was a survivor of the ferry explosion, losing an arm because of it. “I can never look at a vase anymore without picturing that son of a bitch naked.” He motioned with his head toward my brother, who was headed inside with the flowers and apple cider.
“This town is weird as fuck.”
“And LA isn’t?”
I turned to see Elena walking up to me like she’d just materialized out of thin air. She was wearing a gorgeous ankle-length dress in a muted green. It had buttons all the way down the center, and every single one past her mid-thigh had been left open.
“Oh, no. LA is definitely weird, but it’s a brand of weird I’ve gotten used to. I barely raise an eyebrow when I hear someone at Starbucks talking about which spa has the best vampire facial or how you will not believe how awesome this new cleanse is,” I answered, trying not to blatantly stare at her legs. Those buttons were taunting me.
She looked like a damn present, ready to be unwrapped.
Maybe I can convince her it’s my birthday.
“Vampire facial?” Marin blanched, a chip halfway to her mouth.
“I could explain it to you,” Elena offered, taking a sip of her glass of wine. “But it would just gross you out.”
Dean turned to—God, was that his brother? “Taylor, your wife had better not start offering shit like that at the salon.”
Yep, definitely Taylor Sutherland. I’d recognized him at the engagement party, but I’d sort of had my attention on other things.
I owed their family a ton of thanks. Without the help of their mom, I wasn’t sure I would have ever earned the cash to leave all those years ago.
Taylor chuckled, taking a sip of beer. “Don’t give her any ideas. You know how she loves a good theme.”
“Lord help us,” Dean muttered.
“Where is Lani? I miss her.” Marin pouted as Macon appeared once more, wrapping his arms around her and presenting her with a whole new plate. “Ooh, chips!”
He’d told me this morning that Marin had been suffering from some severe morning sickness. He might be going a little overboard to compensate for it.
“At home with Matthew. Cora and Lizzie are there, too.” He chuckled as Marin dived into her food. “Girls’ night. Mostly.”
“Cora brought over an entire season of Doctor Who ,” Dean added with a grin before turning to me. “Cora is my wife. Lizzie is our daughter.”
“Is everyone married?” I asked, looking around the yard at all the couples grouped together.
I hadn’t thought of anyone here in fourteen years. I’d compartmentalized my childhood and put everything and everyone in it in a sort of time capsule. Coming back and seeing Macon and my classmates with spouses and families reminded me that life here had gone on whether I thought about it or not.
“Not everyone.” Dean laughed. “But close. Our friend Gavin there is the eternal bachelor, but you wouldn’t know him. He’s a transplant from the mainland.”
“He owns Taps.” Elena gave me a meaningful look, making me grin.
“Speaking of, what’s up with that, Zander?” Marin asked around a mouth full of chips. “Why the hell would a professional musician walk into a bar on karaoke night?”
I shrugged. “It was packed, and I was hungry. I didn’t want anyone in town to see me before you did, and I figured it’d be a good place to melt into a crowd,” I explained. “Even at the expense of my hearing.”
“And instead, you found Elena.”
“With earbuds on,” I added with a touch of amusement.
“You weren’t there when the couple got up there and sang ‘Barbie Girl.’” She grimaced. “In character, guys. It was on a whole other level of weird.”
“This is kind of making me want to go, honestly.” Marin laughed.
“No!” everyone shouted.
“So, I keep meaning to ask you”—Macon swiftly changed the subject—“when do you go back on the road? Headed out with anyone we might know?”
I went rigid, hating that I couldn’t tell him.
“Yeah, the beginning of September,” I said as they all stared. Jesus, is it getting hotter? “But I, uh, can’t say anything more. Contractually obligated and all.”
They all groaned.
“Seriously?” Macon exclaimed. “Don’t you know we’re all living vicariously through you now?”
“I’ll tell you soon,” I told him, wondering if there would be any way I could tell my family before that concert. “Promise.”
“What’s it like? Touring with bands?” Taylor asked. “It’s got to be a wild lifestyle. Like, do you actually sleep on a bus?”
“Sometimes,” I offered. “Depends on the band and the length of time I’m with them. The lifestyle is not for the faint of heart. I’m never home, I keep insane hours, and I basically run on caffeine.”
“That sounds like Elena’s job,” Marin joked.
“But I doubt hers comes with an endless supply of hot chicks.” Taylor gave a salute with his beer, and everyone chuckled.
“I’m gonna go grab some food,” Elena announced abruptly, suddenly pivoting toward the house.
Marin tracked her long strides, and I noted the look of concern on her face.
Is she upset?
“Uh, me, too.”
A look of approval spread across Marin’s face as she watched me follow her best friend.
I headed toward the kitchen, but when I stepped through the sliding glass door and took a look around, Elena was suspiciously absent. I hovered near the island for a moment, wondering whether to run off after her or give her a few minutes. Women needed those from time to time, right?
Fuck it.
I’d only been to Macon and Marin’s a few times, but the layout wasn’t complicated. It was a ranch-style with a single hallway, much like the rental Elena and I were currently occupying.
There were only so many places she could be, and when I found the guest bathroom wide open, that narrowed things down significantly.
A few more steps down the hallway, and I found her in what would normally be considered a spare bedroom, but it had been transformed into something else entirely.
“Wow,” I breathed out as I stepped inside. “Is this Marin’s studio?”
Elena was in front of a large easel, her eyes fixed on an unfinished painting of the harbor. At the sound of my voice, those chocolate-brown eyes drifted toward me.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Macon helped her with it. Pretty great, right?”
I took a look around, noticing the sink they’d installed in the corner and the flooring that would stand up perfectly to paint. “It’s perfect,” I stated, walking toward the wall of cabinets near the door that looked like they housed every damn paint color known to man. “I thought you came inside to grab some food?”
“I was. I am,” she insisted, moving toward the door. “I just needed a minute.”
“Why?” I prodded.
Her mouth opened, but no answer came. Instead, she tried to squeeze past me to leave. I took a step back, grabbed the handle of the door, and swung it closed.
The lock clicked in place with the push of my thumb.
Her eyes widened, and I asked one more time, “Why?”
She visibly swallowed. “Because, Zander, this…is confusing.” She motioned between the two of us. “I don’t know what the hell it even is, and I’m not used to feeling like this.”
“Like what?”
“Out of control,” she confessed. “Powerless.”
I took a step forward, and she took one back.
“I like casual relationships,” she stated like it was a fact from one of her cases. “I think I might even prefer them because looking back, even my ex was basically just a long-term friends-with-benefits arrangement.”
Hearing her talk about a boyfriend, even an ex, had me all sorts of jealous.
“So, if that’s what you want, I can do that,” she tried to assure me, but I saw doubt swimming in those brown irises.
“But?” I pressed, taking another step forward.
She stood still, our bodies now mere inches from each other.
“But when I think about us leaving here in a week and you going on the road in September with groupies and hot musicians, I get?—”
My fingers closed over her chin, and I tilted her head toward me. I couldn’t help the smirk that spread across my face. “Are you jealous, Louie?”
“No,” she scoffed, tearing her chin from my grip. Her arms were closed around her chest in a frustrated movement as she turned away from me. “Okay, fine, yes! And this is what I mean about feeling out of control. I am not a jealous person. Especially over a guy I’ve known for two fucking weeks.”
My smirk turned into a wide-toothed grin at this point.
I was beginning to think I was the only person in the world who could upend Elena’s world this spectacularly. It was only fair though because my life had been completely upside down since the moment I’d stepped into that karaoke bar.
I closed the distance between us once more, her back now to my front. “I don’t know where this is going either,” I said, leaning over her. “But, I’m right there with you on the jealousy thing. The very mention of your ex has me feeling murderous.”
She snorted out a laugh.
“I don’t know what will happen in a week, let alone two months, but after that moment in the dressing room, I sure as fuck don’t want to waste any more time worrying about it when we have so little to begin with. Do you?”
She turned to face me, her eyes alight with fire. “No.”
“Good.” I palmed her cheek. “There is just one little thing we need to take care of though.”
Her brow furrowed as I stepped back and grabbed the back of my shirt, removing it with one swift tug. Her eyes widened and then heated.
“I can’t have you feeling powerless, Elena.”
Her gaze wandered over every hard ridge of muscle, every line of ink. I held my arms out wide and did a slow turn in front of her.
“You’re used to commanding courtrooms and being in charge.” I dared her with a hint of mischief in my voice. “So, do it. Command me. Take back that power.”
I half expected her to give me a pat on the head, command me to stay like a dog, and confidently walk back out to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich.
Would that technically count as far as the challenge went? Yes.
But it wouldn’t be nearly as fun.
From the wicked gleam in her eye though, I knew she was leaning toward the fun side though, and hallelujah for that.
She began to circle me like a predator, her fingernails grazing my shoulder and across my back. My whole body came alive with that single touch.
“They’re gonna start to wonder where we are,” she whispered softly as she walked behind me.
“I couldn’t give two fucks,” I answered honestly.
With the way she was touching me and the sound of her voice in my ear, someone could be trying to beat down the door, and I still wouldn’t open it.
She made one final turn and stood before me once again, her hands running down my chest, over the smooth lines of my abs. She traced over the large design on my rib cage. “I want you to tell me what each one of these means while I run my tongue over every single line.”
Hell yeah.
“But not now.” A sexy smirk fell upon her lips right before her hand dropped to my shoulder and gave me a little push. “On your knees.”
There she is…
Confident, commanding, and so fucking hot.
She didn’t need to ask me twice. I sank to my knees as I held her gaze, my hands running down the soft fabric of her dress.
I was itching to touch her, to bury my whole fucking face in the apex of her thighs, but I was hers to direct. Hers to use for her pleasure alone, and I wouldn’t make a single move until she told me to.
No matter how much I wanted to.
“You can play the guitar pretty well?—”
“Pretty well?” My hand tightened around her calf, making her laugh.
“Okay, exceptionally well. Is that better?”
“Marginally. What about my superior guitar skills?”
“Those talented hands good at anything else?”
“A few things,” I answered, sliding one hand up her thigh. “I have a pretty good mouth, too. Don’t forget about that.”
The sex haze she was under seemed to momentarily lift. “Yeah, why don’t you ever sing? Like, you could totally—” She let out a tiny squeak as I grabbed her waist, spinning us around until I had her pinned against the door.
“Elena?” There were undercurrents of amusement in my voice as I looked up at her.
“Yeah?” She sounded slightly breathless from my abrupt relocation.
I slid my hand up her smooth leg, bending it at the knee before I hooked it over my shoulder.
“Later.” I grinned, looking up at her.
Damn, that’s a nice view.
Her head fell back against the door with a thud as my fingers explored her. Her skin was so fucking soft, and as I began to trace every curve of her hips and scatter kisses along the inside of her thighs, I remembered the one thing I’d been dying to do.
I lifted up onto my knees slightly, finding the cluster of flowers I’d become obsessed with.
“When you came out of the water the other day and I saw this peeking out of your bikini, I got so fucking hard.” I heard her take in a sharp inhale as my tongue traced the lines closest to her core. “I’ve been dying to do this ever since.”
Leaning back down on my heels, I slid my hand under the lace of her panties, finding her wet and ready for me.
“Shit,” she cursed.
“If you’re worried about them finding us, you’re not doing yourself any favors, Louie.”
“You’re not making it easy, Trouble,” she fired back.
But she had it all wrong.
She was the one who was making it hard.
So fucking hard.
She felt like silk. Soft and warm, and all I wanted to do was rip that tiny piece of lace from her body and claim her over and over against this damn door.
Dude, not at your brother’s house.
I already knew we were crossing a line, fucking around in Marin’s studio like this. Locking ourselves in here all night to fuck was probably a giant faux pas.
Not that he didn’t deserve a little payback after the things I’d had to hear about his sex life since I got here.
“Not sure if you know this,” I said, sliding her panties to one side. God, she was gorgeous. I’d love to take them off entirely, but I wanted to save that for later, when I had all the time in the world to explore every inch of her. “But guitar players— exceptional guitar players, that is—tend to have large hands.” I sank a single digit inside her. So fucking wet. “And very, very long fingers.”
“Oh my God,” she swore as I added another, thrusting deep.
Her body clenched around my fingers as I pumped them in and out, watching her writhe under my touch.
“More,” her breathy voice demanded.
Yes, ma’am.
I curled my fingers at just the right spot, and she tried to stifle her moans, clamping a hand over her mouth. I doubted it did any good.
Especially when a second later, my tongue found her clit.
“Holy fucking shit, Zander.”
Exactly what she said.
She tasted fucking perfect, and suddenly, I felt like a starved man, feasting on my first meal in days. I hooked my arm around that leg that I’d wrapped around my shoulder and pulled her closer, burying my face between her thighs.
Because who needs oxygen, am I right?
Her fingers dug into my hair, and her hips started to grind.
Yes.
I’d never been this turned on, going down on a woman. The moans and soft gasps alone were nearly enough to make me come in my jeans.
I felt her core tighten around my fingers.
“I’m so close.”
I sucked down hard on her clit, causing her to gasp, and then her body quaked, and she fell apart, shaking and moaning my name. I squeezed out every drop of pleasure from her orgasm, licking and sucking until she sagged against the door in exhaustion.
I adjusted her drenched panties and smiled to myself, knowing she’d have to walk around with those on as a nice little reminder for the rest of the night.
Just as I rose to a standing position, a knock came from the other side of the door.
The look of horror on Elena’s face was priceless.
“Yes?” I answered innocently.
She frowned, and I lifted my upturned hands like, What?
She swatted me in the arm. I silently laughed.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I heard my brother mutter under his breath and then sigh. A moment went by, and then he cleared his throat. “Marin would like me to ask you if you could please be mindful of the paintings on the easels. They’re commission work, and she’s already cashed the deposits.”
Elena pressed her lips together, and I barked out a laugh.
“Also, Zander, what the fuck?”
“Sorry, Macon,” I tried to say, my head buried in Elena’s neck as my shoulders bounced.
So not sorry.
Elena couldn’t hold back any longer. I looked up to see her smile and then join in, laughing right along with me as I heard the telltale signs of my brother’s footsteps trudging down the hall.
“Wanna get out of here?” I asked, breathless.
I could still feel her heart beating wildly between us. A moment passed as we looked at each other.
Then, she said, “Race you to the door?”