Between Us (The Renegade Saints #3) (12 page)

I nod my understanding as I quickly jot
Tyson/mystery
in my notebook.

“I’m sorry—”

“Not a problem,” I assure him. “I’m with you for the better part of the next year. I’m good with holding off.”

He grins wolfishly. “At least that long,” he counters. “Hopefully more. You never know.”

I know I’m blushing as I glance down at the monitor between my feet to check the shots. I’ve got three cameras set up at three different angles, and so far, they’re all good. There’s nothing worse than realizing mid-interview that you framed something wrong. Turning the page in my notebook, I continue.

“Flynn talked a lot about being able to live a more authentic life after retirement. Can you give me an example of something that will change?”

His hand runs over his beard thoughtfully as he considers the question.

“The biggest difference is going to be not going on tour for so many months each year. Even when I’m at home, I never get to fully settle in because I’m always on the cusp of leaving again.” He chuckles. “Once this tour is over, I’ll be stationary for the first time in my adult life. I think all kinds of things are going to change for me—for all of us.”

“Essentially, you’re saying you’ll be able to put down more roots,” I comment.

His blue eyes sparkle as he smiles at me.

“I’ve got my family and the band. Most of my other friends are somehow connected to the business. Been living in my house for a long time,” he answers, “but I couldn’t pick out my closest neighbors in a line up. I can tell you the quickest way to get to Guitar Center from here, yet I have no idea when the yearly block party is held. I’m aware there is one because my maid goes, but somehow, I’ve never been in town for it. It’d be nice to know who lives around me.”

“So roots are important to you,” I muse.

He nods firmly. “Everyone knows Flynn and I lived next door to each other when we were kids. Those were the days. We knew everyone in that neighborhood and everyone knew us. Even now, anytime I go to my parents or Flynn’s dad’s, I’m home. My house doesn’t fit that bill. I feel like a guest around here,” he admits.

“I still miss the area I grew up in,” I commiserate. “My parents sold the house as soon as I went to college.”

“Downsizing?”

“No—they’re part of Doctors Without Borders,” I explain. “They do great work.”

They really do, but it’s a tough nut to swallow sometimes.

“That’s really cool. Where are they?”

“This year they’re in Uzbekistan fighting a TB epidemic.”

“Wow—your parents are the real deal,” he says. “Will they be around when the documentary comes out?”

I shrug because I don’t really like to think about it too much. The odds of them being there are slim to none. I love my parents—they’re wonderful people—but it saddens me that they just sold everything and left. Yes, it’s for a great cause, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss having parents around. I see them once a year now, if I’m lucky. Anxious to get the focus off of me, I plow on with another question.

“Why not buy a house in the neighborhood you grew up in?”

“It would be ideal for me, but not for everyone else there. There’s already a lot of looky-loo’s because Flynn and I grew up there, and our parents never left. But if either of us lived there all the time, it would be open season. I couldn’t do that to my family, or my old neighbors.”

I nod my understanding. He’s right, it would be a nightmare for everyone in the neighborhood.

“Getting to know your neighbors will be easier in the gated community,” I agree.

“What do you think of it?” he asks.

I raise my eyebrows in confusion. “Of what?”

“The neighborhood,” he says huskily. “Do you like it?”

“I, it’s… yes,” I sputter. “It’s a great neighborhood.”

He’s staring at me so intently it’s making my pulse race. With my mouth now desert dry, I reach for my water. As the cup tips, I let out a shriek and dive forward to grab my monitor. Realizing it’s covered in water, I frantically start wiping at it with the first thing I can grab.

Cole springs into action and runs out of the room in a flash. He returns seconds later with a kitchen towel and a roll of paper towels. Dropping onto the floor in front of me. Taking the monitor from my hands, he meticulously dries it.

First he uses the towel and then he wipes it down with some paper towels. When he’s satisfied that it’s dry, he turns it to me.

“See,” he says calmly. “Good as new. It’s still working with the cameras.”

My brain is apparently completely out to lunch, because the next thing I know, I’m lurching forward in my seat to hug him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I know it probably seems silly to you but this particular monitor isn’t made anymore and I love it. My parents remembered to coordinate with Lana to get it for me in time for my twenty-fifth birthday last year. They were in Nepal,” I babble.

He’s dead still for a second, but then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me in close. He’s right between my legs, and I shiver when I feel the cotton of his T-shirt against my inner thighs. I gasp as the implication of why I can feel him hits me.

“Oh my God,” I sputter as I pull back. “Holy shit!”

Cole quickly pulls back and looks up at me with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

When I went to dry the monitor, the thing I grabbed to do it was the hem of my white cotton dress—the hem of which had rested about an inch above my knee. I’m now sitting here with it bunched up around my thighs. I try not to look down, but can’t help it. As quick as I bring my eyes back to his, it’s too late. His gaze follows the path mine just did, and he lets out a choked noise when he realizes the state I’m in.

“Jesus, Devon,” he growls. “Fuck.”

Lifting his head, he meets my eyes. My breath stops, lodging somewhere in my chest when I see the look of hunger in his eyes. The breath rushes out of me in a whoosh when he leans back and runs his hands up the inside of my thighs.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”

I expel the breath I’ve been holding in a rush. Seemingly of their own volition, my legs spread wider, allowing him to come in closer.

“Cole,” I whimper.

A shocked sound makes us both jump. My head whips around fast, and I let out a squeak when I spot Ian standing in the doorway with a deer-in-the-headlights look.

“I, uh, sorry,” he stutters. “Your assistant let me in as he was leaving for the day…I didn’t… Fuck.”

Cole grabs the hem of my skirt and carefully pulls it down as he studies my face.

“You okay?”

I nod. “I’m good,” I assure him.

I wouldn’t be if it were anyone other than Ian. There’s no way I could keep from noticing the way Ian is looking between Cole and me right now. Since the day I met them both, I’ve seen it from both of them but right now the look on Ian’s face is one hundred percent arousal. Without question, he wants us both. The idea of the two of them touching me has become my favorite dirty fantasy.

Cole stands in one fluid motion, turning to Ian.

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells him. “Everything is cool. How about we take a break now and eat dinner?”

My stomach growls as if on cue.

“I’m starving,” I admit.

“It’s settled then,” Cole announces. “I’ll go pull dinner out of the warming oven.”

He gives me a meaningful look, and I think I know just what it means. I nod once in understanding, and he smiles before spinning on his heel and leaving the room.

I’m pretty sure Cole wants me to ease Ian’s embarrassment, so I set out to do so. Crossing the room, I stop in front of Ian and smile up at him.

“Hey you.”

The smile he gives me seems uncertain.

“I’m sorry—”

“Like Cole said, you have nothing to be sorry for,” I assure him. “Don’t give it another thought.”

He shakes his head as he stares down at me. “You do realize he’s
bisexual,
yeah?”

He says the word bisexual dramatically, air quotes and all.

I find myself oddly defensive. For whatever reason, I really don’t want to discuss this with Ian. It feels wrong somehow.

After a second of trying to formulate a response, I finally say, “I’m not surprised, which says a lot.”

“Doesn’t that,“ he pauses to swallow, “bother you?”

I cross my arms over my chest defensively as I stare at him.

“Why would it bother me?”

“Bisexual means he fucks around with men,” he says stiffly, as if I’m somehow unaware of the definition.

“It also means he likes women too,” I remind him.

“Don’t you think that makes him gay?”

I bark out a harsh laugh. “But he’s also been with women. By your logic, that makes him straight.”

“Come on, Devon. Don’t ignore the obvious,” he urges. “If you fuck around with someone who’s the same gender you are, you’re gay.”

I can’t keep the annoyed expression from my face as I glare up at him. I really don’t see why this matters. Bisexual, yes. Gay? No. If Cole were gay, he wouldn’t have touched me the way he just did.

“I’ve kissed girls and I’m not gay, Ian,” I huff.

“I’m not judging,” he argues. “I have no problem with gay people.”

“Actions speak louder than words and you getting all huffy about Cole being bisexual—”

“You know why it bothers me,” he asserts.

“Do I?”

He scrubs his hands through his hair roughly as he stares at me. “You feel this…this fucking
thing
between the three of us,” he insists. “You have to know what he wants this to turn into.”

I lick my lower lip as I nod. “I do. Are you asking me if I object? Because if you are, all I can tell you is, I’ve definitely thought about it,” I admit.

His eyes shoot up toward his hairline as he gapes down at me. My admission doesn’t seem to have pleased him.

“How can you stand it?” he asks. “The idea of being in bed with two guys willing to touch each other…it can’t be a turn on. It’s gay, full stop.”

The look I give him is glacial. “You’re awfully quick to throw labels and judgments around. I’m disappointed in you. I had no idea you were so intolerant.”

“I’m not intolerant—”

“Then stop acting like it,” I snap.

His shoulders sag as he looks away. “I’m sorry I’m being such an asshole. Please,” he says pleadingly, “I really fucked up and clearly I’m handling this terribly. I’m just…confused. I really am sorry, Devon. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

I believe him, especially the confused part. Ian clearly has some issues that need to be addressed, but if I’ve learned one thing in my life it’s that slow and steady is the way to go. I’m not going to go at him all bull in the China shop style.

“Let me turn off my equipment so we can move on,” I say as I gesture toward the door, “and go get some food.”

He fidgets nervously as he stares down at me. “Are we good?”

I nod and tell him what he wants to hear. “We’re good.”

As friends I think we are. As for anything else, all signs point to no. He definitely does not seem to be interested in anything else—at least not with Cole and me together.

I
an’s acting weird—and I mean more than usual. He keeps looking at Devon and the expression on his face is one of guilt. Not really sure what’s going on with him. Devon seems perfectly fine, but it might just be because she’s so easy going. Another thing that sets her apart from other women is how calm she is. She’s very even-keeled, which I find highly attractive. Lifting the bottle of wine I brought to the table for dinner, I refill their glasses as Devon continues telling Ian about her roommate. I’ve met her several times now and the girl is a riot. She’s got some weird fascination with sandwiches, but she’s definitely a cool girl.

“… She said speed-dating was a bust,” Devon babbles, “but when I was doing her laundry I found eight ‘I’d like you to call me’ cards tucked in her pocket. When I asked her what it was all about she said each person was given four cards with their phone numbers on them to pass out to four people they were interested in. Out of the nineteen women who were there, she got eight cards. Meanwhile, the four cards she was given to hand out were still there. She just doesn’t care to be committed. Anyway, I told her she’s in the doghouse. Let me tell you, the whole speed-dating thing wasn’t cheap. I really thought I was doing a good thing setting her up with it, too.”