Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance (48 page)

“H
ey.” The forlorn voice greeting him was what he’d been afraid of.

“What’re you doing?” Closing his eyes, he imagined her in a hotel room with the television muted on the network channel where her show had aired.

“Eating. But I’m done.”

“What did you eat?”

“Coconut shrimp. Macaroni. Um, some stuffed crabs.” A rustling sound came over the phone as if she was changing clothes or lying down. “Jalapeño hushpuppies.” Blowing out a breath, she added. “Cheesecake for dessert. Oh yeah, these little corn fritter things.”

“Damn. Hungry?” In her habits he’d learned so far, she abstained from eating when upset. This was new if she was eating because of how her guest appearance had gone.

“I thought I was. Really I just ate a couple of bites of everything.”

“There are kids starving in Africa.”

“I know…”

“I was teasing, Scar Dar’.”

“I know. Doesn’t change anything for those kids though.”

He wanted to reach through the phone, pull her in his arms. Miraculously, he was getting a phone signal in his room. 

“Scar, what’s wrong?” He knew, but felt she needed to say it.

After watching along with millions of viewers the woman he loved being harassed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, he was upset, and he knew she was as well.

“Just tired.” She lied to him.

“You looked beautiful.” Since she wouldn’t, he opened the dialogue of the show. “New jeans?”

“Kind of. I got them right before Big Sur.”

“I didn’t think it was possible for your ass to be hotter. But damn!”

Nothing from her side of the phone. She didn’t laugh. Didn’t make a sound.

And so he tried again. “Guess what? You were on the same stage where the Beatles performed for the first time in the U.S.”

“Really?” There was a pique of interest in her tone.

“Yeah.” He felt a smile tug one side of his lips. Scar could pretend a disdain for anything musician related, but lately that façade was cracking. “The Ed Sullivan Show. Then two days later, they did their first U.S. concert.”

The silence stretched, and he wondered for a second if he had pushed his phone time in this room and his call had finally dropped. You still there?”

“I felt so cheap. Like just another stupid girl with her panties off gone viral…”

“It wasn’t like that.”

Nothing.

“I promise. You were classy. People are interested in you. And that’s part of you right now.”

“I was afraid—no terrified—he was going to go after the step thing next.”

“But he didn’t. He liked you. He wasn’t going after you like he does some people.”

“Why did this have to happen now? The stupid video? I tried not to give a fuck about that video. I really did. I thought I was okay with it, even if it never went away...” Her voice trailed. “We were so stupid.”

The pain in his heart was so emotional it was physical. He heard a tell-tale sniffle and realized she was hurting as badly. “Are you crying?”

“No.”

“Let’s Face Time, okay? I’m gonna hang up and call you―”

“No!”

 Yep. Definitely crying. Another stab jabbed his chest, his eyes had a mysterious ache, and his throat hurt when he spoke. “If I told you I was sorry for that night, I’d be lying. I remember how your hair felt blowing all over my skin… The mix of the surf pounding with the sound of you coming. Everything was perfect, Scar. Perfect.” Since his only extreme emotion had been anger for so long, he was surprising himself more and more with such revelations, especially to the degree of the next one. “And when you looked at me afterward, I saw it in your eyes. Love.” His signal dropped some, and he moved to the window. “I’m sorry for the shit you’re going through because of it. But I’m strangely conflicted when it comes to trying to be sorry that perfect moment is on video. What I am sorry about is that some jackass put it on the internet when I would have paid everything I had for it to be for our eyes only.”

“It was a perfect night,” she agreed, and some of the stressful weights banding his chest released. “I need to stop letting other people ruin it for me.”

“No one can ruin it. It’s ours, honey. And hopefully it will be pulled for good from the sites. But whether it is or isn’t, the hype is going to die down.”

Her breaths evened out and her voice seemed calmer. “It was perfect, wasn’t it?”

“Damn straight.” His curse was a reverent vow, and then he dropped his voice even  though he was alone. “Want to watch it with me?”

The seconds ticked like a click track. One. Two. Three. Four. A few more. And then…

“Uh huh. Okay.”

They each did a search and hit play.

 “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Deciding not to take offense at being dubbed beautiful, because together, they truly were, he swiped the screen, zooming in some. “He was right, you know. This tops Tom and Pam’s.” Or any other leaked or planted sex clip on the internet.

He waited, ready if she disagreed to bait her into a smile by pretending to take it personally. After all, he could measure up—he’d been just as blessed with rock-star-cock.

Her agreeable “Mmh hmm” against his ear was breathy—either fatigued or intrigued.

“Scar?”

“Hmm?”

“Wanna come visit?” He’d told her he didn’t want her to see him in this place, but suddenly another couple of months without her seemed an eternity.   

T
he heels of her snakeskin pumps made a quiet plunk with each step on the slate floor. Her eyes were partially hidden behind shades that had conformed to the indoor lighting. She kept her gaze down on the colorful pattern swirling the tiles. Blues, browns, golds. The décor was very Aztec with rug hangings, scattered woven blankets, and large clay vases dotting corners, and either side of a massive stone fireplace in the great room.

Feeling eyes on her, she lifted her chin and curved a practiced smile. This was her fourth visit. Shady Oasis was no stranger to celebrities in the form of patients or their families, but still an atmosphere buzzed around her entrance. After a quick sweep of the room, she headed to an unoccupied section, nodding as she passed at the few she’d chatted with before. Smoothing the back of her dress, she lowered into one of the two rocking chairs and waited.

She had already sent a text before stepping from the cab, and she turned her screen on to see if any had come through during her walk in.

“Excuse me. You’re Scarlette Conterra.” The young woman was beautiful. When she raised her hand to tuck a wavy strand of hair behind her ear, the patient band on her wrist slipped a couple of inches down her forearm.

“I am.” Scarlette nodded, and flexed an inquiring smile.

Anyone in here who knew music, knew who she was.

Social media recluses who hadn’t seen headlines like
A Dead Ringer For Her Dad, Rock and Roll Lovechild Inherits Billions
, or more embarrassingly from the sex tape scandal
Blended Family Affairs. Siblings or Lovers?
still knew who she was. Girlfriend of the resident rock star, whatever his name was.

“I’m Andrea. I just wanted to say hi. It’s great to meet you. Gage never stops talking about you.”

“Gage talks to you about me?” With fame, she had remained grounded, solid. But she had been overexposed to distinctive personalities and mimicked some of these personas at will. Right now, she arched a brow and put on her best snooty air. She couldn’t help it. The girl was gorgeous. And thinking of Gage talking to her—shining his ‘engaging’ smile on her—did ugly things.

“To everyone, actually. All good things. Don’t worry.” A nervous giggle expelled with Andrea’s next breath. “Anyway. Have a good visit.” The last part was accompanied by a blush, and she hurried away.

It was nuts. She had actually thought ahead enough to imagine Gage going about his musician life while she was putting in long hours at the university. Playing in his cover band. Or joining another band. Having friends over to swim while she wasn’t home. And yes, in the last few months, his house had felt like home. But she had never dreamed she had to worry about what he would be doing in rehab.

“Scar Dar’!” His husky voice vibrated her ear, and his breath sent a heated shiver through her limbs. He’d come up behind her, and she leaned back, enjoying his hard body. She jumped when he bit her ear, and when her head turned away in self-defense, he claimed her lips as smoothly as if he had executed the plan that way. Restraint manifested in a clench of his fingers to her arms when he respectively forced space between their lips.

Rules. She’d only skimmed them, but she was sure they included no macking like horny teens in the common room during visiting hours.

“How’s my dog?”

She pulled a semblance of the face she’d shown Andréa. “Rascal’s fine. And so am I. Thanks for asking.”

“I’m fine too.” He saw her arched brow and raised her one. “Thanks for asking.”

A giggle bubbled to the surface, and suddenly she was laughing and he right along with her.

Hooking a finger into the silver cuff bracelet, he tugged until she was a breath away again. Instead of kissing her, he said, “Let’s go for a walk.”

They held hands as they took a trail around the pool area and began down the slope toward the lake in the far distance. Looking at their entwined fingers, she couldn’t help but see the symbolism of stark reality—the change from when she’d shown up at his door. Her bracelet was silver, adorned with designer engravings, while his was vinyl, decorated with his patient ID and specifics.

When they’d walked for more than ten minutes, she slowed. Looking at her feet, he stopped her and held his hand out. “Give ’em.”

“My shoes? No. It’s okay. I didn’t know, or I would have worn something else. But they’re fine.” The last times they’d stayed close, either around the pool or in the recreation room.

“Scar, just step out of ’em.” He tugged on her ankle. “This bike trail is paved almost all the way down.” She kicked them off, and he straightened with them in one hand, and reclaimed her hand with his other.

He seemed to be headed toward a large stable and gave her wrist an impatient tug when she dallied too long at a fence exclaiming over paint horses. The paved trail had ended, but the sand was soft and dry beneath her soles.

They kept up a nonstop chatter, but when they entered the huge empty barn, she quieted while taking it in. The horse stalls were empty. He led her beyond them and turned a corner. The sandy floor became a rough stone floor and he paused before a door, whipping a key from his pocket. After a furtive look around, he unlocked the door, pulled her through it, before closing and relocking it behind them. His sneaky manner alerted her. This had been no casual walk around the grounds. Natural lighting filtered through a window at the end of the hall, enough for her to tip her face to his in silent surprise and see his return smirk.

They passed what looked like a few offices, and at the window, he turned to a stairwell. She followed him up and found they were in a large loft. A huge opening was on the outside wall, and through it, was a magnificent view of the grounds and lake. An open half wall across from it overlooked the inside of the barn. Across on the far side of the barn, she saw an identical open window. A cross draft flowed through—obviously part of the architectural planning.

She turned back to the outside view, and when he nudged her closer to the outside wall, away from view of anyone entering the barn, she considered the key and realized his clandestine motives even before he nuzzled his face in her neck.

“This is why I asked you to wear a dress…” He spoke against her skin. “Damn, you smell good.” She shivered when his tongue swabbed the crook at her shoulder. “Taste good, too…”

Holy shit, it had been so long. Her panties were already warm and wet. “How did you pull this off?” She put it out of her mind that conjugal visits were absolutely not allowed. She knew because Gage had asked the first day he’d come to check the place out and do paperwork!

“Money makes friends in high places.” He swiveled her to face him and hungrily claimed her lips. “Damn, I’ve been dreaming of this kiss—a
real
kiss.”

“Friends in high places?” She spoke around his tongue. “Like the stable?”

“Like one of the grooms,” he concurred. “Now shut it, and kiss me!”

Their tongues clashed, and he sucked the breath from her lungs. After kissing thoroughly, he slowed things enough to tickle and tease with his rock star kisses. By now, she was a pro with these techniques and pressed closer when she had him groaning. Her senses were so enamored with the taste of him that she barely registered his fingers beneath her dress until he jerked her panties down.

“Unbutton this…” With a trail of his finger, he indicated the front of the dress.

“You do it,” she retorted, unwilling to remove her hands, which were tunneled beneath his tee exploring the sinewy muscles he’d developed during his stay.