Denver: A Bad Boy Romance (FMX Bros Book 3) (10 page)

Chapter 25

Jami

I ran a quick brush through my hair and headed for my purse. I’d decided to head out and get some breakfast for Denver. We’d fallen asleep without eating the burgers, and I was sure he’d wake up hungry for something other than just me. Not that I would have minded if his appetite leaned toward me again.

Loud footsteps pounded the stairs as I searched for my keys. My eyes widened at the sound. Denver had been sleeping so soundly when I tiptoed out of his place, it was surprising to hear him coming up the steps. I reached for the door.

“I was just about to—” I froze, stunned and thoroughly disappointed. “Harold. What the hell are you doing here?” Harold was one of those late forties, perpetual midlife crisis types who always hid the gray in his beard with hair dye. His taste in clothing reminded me of a high-roller in Vegas who thought he looked slick but in reality only looked tacky. He had a robust gambling addiction to go along with the cheesy fashion sense. And he was big, always reminding me of some creepy bouncer at a night club. He was the total opposite of my cerebral, low-key dad. Never could understand what my mom saw in Harold.

“Are you going to invite me in or are you going to leave me standing out here on this ledge?”

I took longer than needed to contemplate the choices. A brief image of me pushing him off the top step brushed through my thoughts. I stepped back. “Come in. But only for a minute. I’m just on my way out.”

He pushed past me and reminded me immediately of the sour aftershave smell I’d grown to hate. I glanced down to the driveway. A small compact car, most definitely not his Cadillac, was sitting in the driveway. “Did you rent a car and drive here?”

“From the airport.”

I closed the door and crossed my arms angrily. “What do you want, although I have an idea already.”

He resembled a big, ugly bear with dyed brown hair as he walked around the small room. “Where’s the violin?”

“Safe. Is that why you came here? Just to check that I’m taking care of it? Don’t worry, Mom’s inheritance is safe. And just as soon as I have enough money, I will buy her out of her half.”

His short, derisive laugh was obnoxious. Just like him. “Have enough money? How are you going to earn your keep if you’re hiding here in this hovel? We need you to go to London. It’s good money and a prestigious opportunity.”

“Told you I’m not going. You booked that performance after you already knew my plans. You just wasted air miles traveling out here. The answer is no. As far as you’re concerned, I don’t exist for the next few weeks.”

His smug grin appeared. He had a particularly sneering one, and I’d always hated it. “Believe me, kid, there are times when I do wish you didn’t exist.”

“I feel the same about you. Of course, without me you wouldn’t be able to buy those fancy, tasteless clothes, drive expensive cars or pay off your gambling debts.”

“Look here, you spoiled brat.” He lifted a giant finger as he stomped toward me. The floor vibrated beneath my feet. As I stepped back, I smelled a whiff of alcohol on his breath. When my mom met him he was a recovering alcoholic. I’d never seen him take a drink. Harold had also never raised a hand to me. I was sure it was probably the one thing that would give my mom pause, since nothing else this awful man did seemed to bother her. He knew he had it good with Mom, and he wasn’t about to blow it by losing his temper. But this time, I really seemed to have pushed him to his limits. The alcohol on his breath had me more than worried.

His nostrils were flared, and I’d forgotten how massive the man was, a reality made even more clear by the small size of my apartment.

I swallowed hard to regain my confidence. I refused to be bullied by him. I pushed my shoulders back and stretched a little taller, still coming only even with his chest. “Does Mom know you came here?”

He flinched at the question.

“By your reaction, I’m guessing not.”

“Your mom always wants what’s best for you, and this performance in London is important.”

“She told me I had five weeks, and I’m taking every minute of that time. I’ll be back acting as your money making machine after that.”

There was definitely something off about the man. He seemed extra tense. “This London show is a lot of money,” he growled.

“I knew this was about money, but it’s not as if I left you and Mom destitute.”

He flinched again.

“What have you done, Harold? You’ve lost a big bet, haven’t you? This is all about getting you out of trouble with a bookie. That’s why you came here without letting Mom know.”

“That’s none of your fucking business!” He lunged at me. I ducked out of his way, and he stumbled forward. Bigger, at least in his case, meant slower. He wasn’t stone drunk, but he wasn’t sober either.

My heart was slamming against my ribs. I eyed the door, wondering if stepping out on that rickety stairwell would be my escape or my death. I’d never seen my stepfather like this.

“Get your fucking suitcase and that goddamn violin right now.” His loud, deep voice boomed off the walls.

“Just get out.” I pulled my phone out. “I’m calling Mom right now.”

He lumbered toward me. I backed up several steps, smacking my head on the wall behind me. I was sandwiched between the wall and Harold. I lifted my phone. He grabbed it and threw it hard just as the front door flung open.

Denver’s jaw was tight with pain and rage. Even though he was moving slowly, there was no doubt in my mind that he was ready to pummel Harold if necessary.

Harold spun around. “Who the hell are you?”

Denver’s eyes were a cool shade of blue as he glared at Harold. “That just doesn’t fucking matter. What matters is you getting the hell out of this apartment. Now.” Every step looked like it hurt, and it seemed he was holding his breath in agony. But that didn’t stop Denver from walking right past Harold, nearly clashing shoulders with him as he moved to stand between me and my giant, seething stepfather.

“I’m family,” Harold barked.

Denver put up his hand. “Doesn’t matter if you’re fucking Santa Claus. Get out.”

Harold had no idea that Denver had fallen twenty feet from the air yesterday or that every muscle in his body was throbbing in pain. If he had, he might not have backed down so fast. Denver put up a good front, and his calm, confident demeanor sent my wicked stepfather back to the door. I was able to take my first real breath since opening the door to the man.

Harold stopped and looked back at us. “You tell your mom about this visit, and I’ll call the police and claim that you stole that fucking violin from the family safe.” He glanced around and sneered. “Looks like a pretty sketchy place to be storing a million dollar instrument.” Something about his last statement sent a shiver down my spine.

I nearly collapsed in relief when Harold walked out.

Denver turned around. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, thanks to you.” I kissed him. His skin felt cold and clammy. “You need to get back in bed.”

He nodded. “That’s where I was, fast asleep having some weird dream about a snowball fight with my elementary school principal. Then I heard loud footsteps on the ceiling. I stared up for a second and thought, there’s no damn way Jami’s little feet could be making that sound. Then I heard the yelling. Took me a second to get out of bed. My gallant moment looked more like my grandpa trying to get up from the couch, but once I got my forward movement, I climbed those stairs like a grandpa on steroids. But now I’ve got to sit.”

I walked with him over to the couch and he sat down. “Those pills have worn off, and I’m feeling every bit of that crash now.”

“I’ll go get you a cold compress.” I ran into the bathroom and dampened a washcloth and returned to the couch. I knelt on the cushion next to him and placed the cloth on his forehead.

“Don’t know what’s making me feel worse, the pain or the painkillers.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes but kept talking. “I take it that man was your stepfather. Didn’t expect him to be so big. He seemed a little drunk too.”

“He was. Which worries me. He’s been on the wagon since he met my mom. I’ve never known him to drink. He’s a mean ass when he’s sober. I can only imagine what he’s like drunk. Still, as manipulative, selfish and greedy as he is, he has never raised a hand to me. But I think that streak was about to end today. He wants me to cut short my vacation and fly to London for a performance.” I knew it was a sore subject. Denver was feeling lousy, and he’d just saved me from a rage-filled Harold, but I brought it up anyhow. There was no way to ignore reality anymore. My taste of freedom came with a time constraint. Harold’s unexpected visit had just reminded me of that. “I’m not my own person. I’m a name on a contract, a body to fill an orchestra chair. I belong to everyone else.”

“Everyone but me,” he said quietly.

I snuggled next to him on the couch. “That’s where you’re wrong, Denver Mathison.”

Chapter 26

Denver

Three days after the fall, I felt well enough to get back to work. Cole needed me. I was his lead man, and we were now two weeks behind on the project, with plenty of deadlines looming. It had been a long first day back, but I was glad to get up and move. A heavy work day had kept my mind occupied from everything else. As much as I tried not to think about the failed jump, I’d still found myself startling awake with the sensation of falling. Then there was Jami. We grew closer each day, and yet, as each day passed, we grew nearer to that dreaded day when she had to pack up and leave.

Several people had come to look at the upstairs apartment, but none of them had seemed interested, which was probably more due to my lackluster description and laundry list of problems than the place itself. I was a damn handyman. Not a realtor.

A long shower got rid of the day’s layer of grit. I could hear Jami walking around on her balcony. I hadn’t seen her all day. The shitty deal about being back at work was that we had even less time to spend together. Earlier in the day, we’d made plans to go to dinner.

Violin music rolled down from the balcony and in through my bathroom window. It was like no other sound I’d ever heard, as if every note ever produced by an instrument had lined up in perfect pitch. It was pure and moving. She was extraordinary . . . in every way.

I pulled on a clean shirt and jeans, combed my hair with my fingers and headed outside. Jami’s playing had attracted the attention of several cyclists, who had stopped their evening ride to listen. Two of the neighbors had come out as well. I stood below the balcony with the others and watched as Jami’s thin arm moved the bow over the strings. Her eyes were closed, and long lashes shaded her cheeks. She hadn’t noticed that she had drawn an audience. When she played, it seemed she lost herself completely in her music.

After meeting her creepy stepdad, I’d stupidly formed a plan in my head. I was going to try my hardest to convince her to stay. I didn’t want to share her with the whole damn world. I figured she could record music and not have to go on tour at all. But as I stared up at the girl who had won me over to the point that I thought of little else but her, I realized my selfish plan was just that, selfish. This wasn’t music you could trap in a recording studio and download to a phone. The sound coming from her violin was like a force of nature, awe-inspiring, powerful, almost a little frightening in its intensity.

I looked around. A few more people had stopped to listen. She had to play for the world. Even though I would never fully recuperate from losing her, she wasn’t mine to keep.

Jami finished a song and opened her eyes in surprise when a round of applause followed. She hopped up and took a bow. As she straightened, her blue eyes landed on me.

“Hey, neighbor, I’m starved. I’m thinking tacos. I’ll be right down.” She’d just rendered a group of strangers speechless with her masterful playing, a level of skill that I was sure most violinists never reached or could even dream about achieving and now she was talking about tacos.

A few minutes later, Jami appeared. She was wearing a yellow sundress and sandals. Her hair was swept up off her neck. She couldn’t have looked more sweet and innocent, especially after the classical concert she’d just finished. But in true Jami fashion, an explosion of pleasing contradiction followed. 

The cottony material of the dress swished around her long legs as she hopped off the last step, kissed my cheek and lifted her mouth to whisper in my ear. “I’m not wearing any underwear.” She dropped to her feet and peered up at me with another perfect twist as she batted her lashes coyly at me.

“How the hell am I supposed to sit calmly in a restaurant and eat tacos knowing that you are sitting across from me without any panties under that dress.” I glanced down. “Nice dress, by the way. Maybe we should go into my place first, so I can take it off. Especially since you’ve already done half the work for me by leaving your panties behind.”

“I thought it would be fun. Figured we needed to celebrate that you’re on the mend and came away from a horrible crash with only a few bumps and bruises.” She took my hand to lead me to my truck. “And you rushed in like my heroic knight and scared away the terrible step monster. He hasn’t called by the way. So maybe you really did scare him off for good.”

We reached the truck, and I opened her door. She hoisted herself up and flashed me just enough naked bottom to send heat straight to my cock. She sat down with a satisfied grin, knowing full well what she’d done. I stood there and watched as she primly smoothed her dress down over her lap. It took her a moment to realize that I hadn’t moved.

She looked at me and her lip curled in a smile. “Shall we go?”

I let my gaze drift down to where her hands sat folded in her lap, holding down the dress. I reached in and swept her into my arms.

I kicked the passenger door shut with my foot. “Tacos be damned.”

She laughed and pretended to swing her feet in protest as I carried her back into the house.

Chapter 27

Jami

It was that quiet part of the night when everything, even the crickets, had gone to sleep. I stretched, luxuriating in the scent of Denver’s soap still clinging to my skin and the slight ache in my legs from sex with the most brilliant, fascinating and adorable man in the world. The dress without panties had been a last minute idea, a fantasy I’d been wanting to play out with him. But it had proven just a bit too much temptation for Denver, who’d had no problem forsaking his empty stomach for a wildly erotic romp. He had carried me into the house, but we never made it to his bedroom.

We eventually ended up ordering a pizza and spent the rest of the night in bed.

There were still a few hours before his alarm would wake us. I rolled over to tuck myself against his naked, hard body, but his side of the bed was empty. I looked toward the hallway and noticed the glow of a monitor coming from the front room.

I pulled on Denver’s t-shirt. It hung down to my thighs. I wrapped my arms around myself and headed down the hall to the front room. Denver, clad only in his briefs, was sitting on the couch with his computer on his lap.

He looked up as I stepped into the room. He was always exceptionally heartbreaking with his dark hair standing up in disarray and his beard stubble shading his face. “Hey, Holliday, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Only because you weren’t next to me. I seem to sleep much better if you are nearby. Well, except for the stretches of time when we’re not actually sleeping.” I sat down next to him and looked at the computer. It was a video of a motorcycle and rider jumping into the air. It took me a second to realize that it was Denver. I pulled my gaze away. “Oh my gosh, I can’t relive that. Why is it on Youtube?”

“Sometimes the epic fails get on faster than the perfect jumps. This one went up fast. It was probably just someone in the stands.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s a good thing. Now I can watch it and try and figure out just what the heck went wrong.”

I glanced back at the screen. The medic and Cole and Rodeo were racing across the track to Denver.

“I looked like a damn rag doll.”

A shiver went through me as that horrid moment in time came back to me. “I was already in a full panic and close to puking by the time they reached you.”

He dropped his arm around my shoulder. “Kind of nice having someone on the other side of the pit fence worried about me.”

“Wasn’t just me. One minute we were all standing watching you, and before I even realized anything was amiss, your two friends shot off like they had rockets on their shoes. It was really sweet.”

“Yeah, Cole and Rodeo are a couple of knuckleheads, but I’d do anything for them. We’ve always got each other’s backs.”

“Like true friends. I missed out on those kinds of attachments growing up. You know, that person who you could tell your deepest secrets and fears to, that person who you could exchange secret looks with in a crowded room and they’d know just what you were saying without you saying one word.”

He kissed the top of my head. “You’ve got one now.” He said the words with just enough sadness that I knew exactly what he was thinking. We’d formed this incredible bond, but none of it mattered. Even the strongest connection dissolved if time and distance worked against it.

“What have you learned from watching the video?”

“Not as much as I’d hoped. I was quick to blame it on a square edge.”

“A square edge?”

“It’s sort of like a pothole in the road. The deep, dangerous kind that throws your tire off or makes you lose traction. I was sure my back tire was kicked out from under me, but watching it, I can see a little kick. But it wasn’t all that severe. I should have been more in control. My hands popped off the handlebars. I just wasn’t focused like I should have been.”

I sat for a second, considering whether or not I should ask the question on the tip of my tongue. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. I took a deep breath. “Was it me? Cole mentioned that you like everything just so when you’re about to jump. Maybe I was your bad luck charm.”

“No, you’re anything but a bad luck charm. You didn’t make me fall. That was my own damn fault. No curses or spells or wrong pair of goggles. I wasn’t focused enough, and in freestyle, your mind has to be one hundred percent on topic.” He shut his laptop. “Should get back to bed before that alarm goes off.”

We got up and headed back down the hall to his bedroom. I climbed into the bed. He slid in next to me, and I snuggled into his arms. “I’m not going to lie though, Jami. Knowing that you’re going to be leaving me soon is messing with my focus plenty. It’s like being given the keys to the magic kingdom and then told ‘have as much fun as you can for a few weeks but don’t get used to it because we’re locking you out after that’.”

“But you won’t be locked out. I’ll be back. We can keep this going. I’ll see you in between tours.”

“How many months of the year are you on the road?”

I thought about it. The number sounded grim even in my head. I didn’t answer. Instead, I pressed my face against his chest, breathing in his scent and trying to lock it in my memory for safe keeping.

Aside from the sound of Denver’s heartbeat against my ear, the house was dead quiet. In the distance, a phone rang. I lifted my head. “That sounds like my ringtone. Phone’s in my purse.” I sat up and lowered my feet to the floor. My heart was racing with the thought of what a middle of the night call could mean.

“It’s probably a wrong number,” Denver called as I raced down the hall to the front room. My purse was on the kitchen counter. I reached in and plucked out my phone. My mom’s number was on the screen. “Hello.”

“Jami,” she said through a sob.

“What is it, Mom? What’s wrong.” I was already relieved to hear her voice. There weren’t many other people I worried about. The fact that my heart had raced with the notion that something may have happened to her, assured me that, like my grandpa, I hadn’t given up hope that the mom I loved might still return.

“Everything’s a mess, Jami. Harold has started drinking again, and I think he’s in some kind of trouble. His gambling has been out of control lately.” She sucked in a shuddering breath, and another sob rolled through the phone.

“I know, Mom. He came here. He was trying to force me into coming back home for the London shows.”

“He went to California?” A sudden flash of anger helped put a quick halt to her sobs. “That bastard told me he was flying to a reunion in Georgia.”

“Well, Mom, I could say I told you so but—well, I guess I just did.”

“So, will you do the London tour?”

“What? How the hell did we go from Harold’s lying and drinking to me doing a performance in London?”

“It’s only a few days, and we could use the money.”

“You are a piece of work, Mom. And I almost fell for the act. You almost had me worried. Did Harold put you up to it? Is the asshole standing right there? Tell him to fuck off.”

“No, he didn’t put me up to this, and it’s no act. We’re in trouble. Harold’s in trouble.”

“I don’t care. That’s totally your problem. You chose the man.”

Denver stood in the doorway. I shook my head to let him know it was nothing major, or at least no one was dead.

“We might need to sell the violin.” Mom said the words fast as if they weren’t important.

“You’ll have to kill me first.” I hung up. I smacked the phone down hard on the counter and walked into Denver’s arms. “As much as I love playing, sometimes I curse the day I picked up my grandfather’s violin.”