LOW: A Rockstar Romance (50 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Liliana

I twisted sideways, tugging at the drooping bodice. The sagging black fabric exactly matched my mood. "No, I don't think so."

"I think it will look lovely, once we get it fitted." The poor salesgirl sounded like she was at the end of her rope and I felt perversely guilty.

"Look," I said tiredly, letting the dress fall in a heap around my sneakers. "I really appreciate all of the personal attention today, but I don't want to waste your time anymore."

She looked relieved. "I'm sure you'll find a dress, Miss Nesbit. Thank you for shopping at Bellamy. Please give Miss Blue our sincere congratulations."

"Yup," I said, yanking my shirt back on. Two stores down, one to go. If Paloma Veldt's didn't have something on the rack that fit me, Annie was just going to have to accept a fungus-colored stepdaughter on the altar with her.

I shot my salesgirl a rueful smile and headed out into the relentless sunshine, where I was immediately swallowed up by the crowds of gorgeous, healthy, model-esque people flitting from yoga classes to juice bars. I felt like a Hobbit amongst the elves. And then I felt like a total nerd for making that comparison.

Paloma Veldt's was on the same block of storefronts that looked like they had been built only yesterday. After only a year away, my eyes had grown accustomed to New York's grit and history. Everything here was shining and brand-spanking new.

And that included the people. A limber-looking guy with a man-bun and a yoga mat tucked under his arm shot me a smile as I passed him. He looked like the kind of guy who read poetry, who donated to charities, and who liked to cuddle. The type who would make sweet, tender love to me and possibly tear up afterward. Exactly the kind of guy I always told myself I needed to find. I waited to feel something, anything, like attraction. But all I could think was that he wasn't Jax.

You're a complete disaster today,
I muttered to myself as I pushed open the door to Paloma's.
Dress-shopping is only going to add to your misery.
I was feeling dark, bleak and just wanted to lock myself in my room and lick my wounds. Instead I let my fingers dance along the racks of gorgeous dresses as the memory came flooding back.

I stabbed the off button on the TV, my breath coming in short, staccato gasps. "No one special," he had said. I was waiting for him to say my name, but instead he dismissed me, dismissed us…

Anger launched me off the couch. I threw on yesterday's clothes in a rumpled mess and headed for the door of the studio.

Greg Fingers looked up from the paper he was reading in the front office. "Mornin', Bit," he greeted me. Thank God he was already stoned and didn't seem to care why I had been asleep in the studio.

"Have you seen Jax?" I demanded.

His eyes went unfocused for a moment and I bit my lip impatiently. "Greg, where's Jaxson?" I snapped.

He came back like he was swimming up from the depths. "Party. At Annie's room."

The Chateau. "Thanks, Greg."

"Hey, Bit, what's going on with your hair?" He seemed genuinely confused. I touched my brown mop and felt the snarls. Jaxson's fingers had made a mess of it.

"New look I'm trying," I said, angrily biting off my words and pushing my way into the merciless California sunshine.

The words “walk of shame” were used too casually. The heap of shame that weighed down on my shoulders almost slowed me to a crawl. I hung my head up until the moment I pushed the door to Annie's penthouse a little wider.

Girls. Everywhere. I didn't know them. But they sure seemed to know Jax.

I saw red.

"Can I get you something to drink, Jaxy?" one of them simpered. It was ten in the goddamned morning and he was under twenty-one, but from the look of her, getting Jax drunk was her topmost priority.

He smiled at her. "I'd love a Jack and Coke."

"You'd love it?" I called from the foyer. I meant to sound bitingly sarcastic, but it came out more as a deranged screech. Everyone in the room turned to look at me. I could see myself in the reflection of the glass-walled entryway. Puffy face, splotchy with anger, my hair a snarled rat's nest haloing my head. I looked unhinged. One of the girls tittered nervously.

"Hey, Bit," Jax called casually. "You look like you had a rough night."

The girls laughed harder. I ignored them. "You'd love a Jack and Coke. Is that like how you love me?"

"What the hell are you going on about?'

"The interview?" My voice was rising into the stratosphere. " 'No one special?' "

All of the female heads swiveled to look at him. His hands, which had been at his knees as he leaned forward listening, went behind his head. He laced his fingers casually and looked at me with that arrogant smirk that made my blood boil.

"Bit, why don't you go shower, get dressed, and come back? Get a cup of coffee while you're at it. You're not making sense."

I shook my head slowly. There was still an ache between my legs from last night, when I had lost my …when he had taken ….

"You didn't mean a word of it," I whispered.

His cocky smile faltered a little bit and he cast a hasty look around at our audience. "You're deluded."

"You're a cocky asshole," I shot back.

He leaned back and nodded at me. "You got that right, babe."

The heartbreak of watching the interview, seeing him publicly deny me, was one thing. But standing there while he posed and postured in front of an all-female audience, living out his basest rock star fantasies the morning after he told me he loved me…

That's what I could never forgive. No matter how my body ached for him, there was still that undeniable truth: he was a cocky asshole and would only break my heart again if I let him into my life.

Of course, there was the slight problem of him being in my life forever now.

I walked up to the counter. "Hi, I'm…" my voice faltered and I pressed my fingers in to the shining blonde wood. The icy blonde behind the counter raised an eyebrow at me. "Sorry. I'm just trying to get used to saying the words out loud. This is the first time I've ever said them to a stranger. Let me start again, okay?" I swallowed. "You were supposed to have some dresses set aside for me for a wedding this weekend? I'm Liliana Nesbit, Annie Blue's
future stepdaughter
?" I cleared my throat. "Jaxson Blue's
future stepsister
?"

Chapter Thirty

Jax

"Slow down, Jax." Bash was sweating.

"I am going slow." I paused and switched the wood to the other shoulder. This was the last piece off the truck. "Watch out for that mud right there."

"Right where?" Bash stepped right where I was pointing. "Oh, fuck me sideways!" he cried as his footing gave way.

His creative cursing was no use. The heavy piece of wood fell to the ground and began rolling toward the cliff edge. "Grab that!" I shouted to Diggs, who nodded and began sprinting. Bash took off after him and I was about to follow suit when a shrill voice screeched across the lawn.

"Jaxson, what the hell are you doing?"

I heaved a sigh and turned around. My mom wavered down the lawn. "I'm moving wood, Mom. What does it look like?"

"Looks like you're fucking around to me," she snarled.

Lovely. She was half in the bag and it wasn't even noon yet. "Yeah, I'm fucking around, Mom. Whatever you say."

She nodded briskly as I confirmed her suspicions. "Instead of standing there with your thumb up your ass, I need you to do something for me."

I wiped my face with my t-shirt. It was fucking hot today and I was too tired for her shit. "Yeah, Mom, whaddya need?" The guys were already hammering the pergola into place with the efficiency of years on the road together. I looked at them wistfully.

"I need you to pick up Aunt Fiona's dress from the shop and run it to Salvatore."

I stared at her. She couldn't be making less sense than if she had suddenly started speaking Russian. "Seriously, Annie? You have like, four personal assistants. Why exactly do you need
me
to pick up Fifi's dress?"

Then I noticed it. The wild look in my mother's eyes, the one that would frighten a lesser man. No wonder Nails had busied himself with the altarpiece. His big, burly, bearded bravado was no match for my mother in Bridezilla mode.

"Because, I am
asking
my son, who loves me and is grateful for all I have given him, to help me out," she slurred.

I wiped my face again. "Christ, Mom, lay it on a little thicker," I sighed. There was no getting out of this. "I'll get the stupid dress. Just let me shower first."

She turned with a satisfied smirk, secure in the knowledge that once again she had gotten her way. And now, it seemed I was off to a dress shop. How perfect.

*****

If I didn't recognize the place right off the bat, they sure recognized me. "Can I help you find something, Mr. Blue?" The tall, willowy blonde behind the counter was straight-up batting her lashes. "Something for your… girlfriend, perhaps?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," I snapped, too hastily. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the image of Bit that had wedged itself in the forefront of my mind's eye.

The ice queen's lips curled seductively, and for a second I could see the wolfish hunger in her eyes before she snapped back into flirtation. "That's a good thing," she cooed, licking her cherry-red lips.

I cut her off right there. "I'm here to pick up an order."

Then I mentally smacked my head. A shop girl… obviously a fan… This would have been the easiest lay ever.

But I didn't give a shit about her, or her flirting. I was just irritated that she'd even try.

Her manicured brows knitted together. "What's the name?" she asked, all the warmth drained out of her voice.

I wondered if she was one of the gossipy types who sold blind items to the tabloids. Then I realized I really, truly, did not care. "My mom's," I told her, checking my phone.

"Right away." Ice Queen snapped smartly around and headed to the back room. Was she actually wiggling her ass at me? Why was that hilarious?

I turned and ran my hand idly along the racks. The store was softly lit with warm, recessed lighting. The light oak fixtures set off the scattered furniture that looked like it belonged in a thrift store, but I was sure actually sold for thousands of dollars.

In other words, this place was a chick's dream.

My restless wandering led me toward the back of the store. For the first time since last week, my mind was a pleasant blank. The extremely physical work of hauling lumber had left me feeling floaty and contented. No roiling confusion, no intense sexual frustration. I felt a small measure of peace.

Peace that shattered the second a dressing room door swung open and Bit stepped out.

She froze, hands clutched around a dress that was way too big for her tiny frame. My mouth went dry. She looked… fucking
edible
, barefoot, her hair in a tangled disarray. I drank her in like a tumbler of the smoothest Scotch, from her painted toes all the way up to her dark, furious face.

Oh. Shit.

"Are you following me now?" she snapped, hefting that ridiculous dress up higher on chest.

"Really?" I didn't mean to laugh, but really now. "Christ, get over yourself."

"Well, why the hell would you be here?" She was talking way too damn loud.

"I'm here the same reason you are—getting a dress." And then, because I was addicted to pissing her off, it seemed, I grabbed a red slinky thing from the rack and held it up to my chest. "What, don't you think this is my color?"

Did her mouth quirk? It did, but she would never admit I had made her smile. "You don't know anything about dress shopping," she protested.

"I know enough to know that dress is hideous on you."

"What?!" God she was being so loud. If Ice Queen hadn't called the tabloids before, she was sure as hell dialing them now. Bit looked like she was going to either kill me or explode in the attempt.

"Shut up, will you?" I snapped, pushing her back into the dressing room and shutting the door behind us. "You're making a goddamn scene."

She stood there, huffing, yanking on that dress like it was a life preserver. The room itself was bigger than I had expected, with a Victorian chair in the corner that was covered in mounds of discarded dresses. The three-way mirror reflected Bit's furious face, downcast eyes, and my own bewildered expression. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I hissed.

She snapped up at me. "Why are you so mean?"

There were tears in her eyes, and my fists clenched to see her hurt, even though it was me that was causing the hurting. "Goddamn it, Bit," I shouted. "We need to sort this shit."

"Here?"

"Yes. Here." I stood against the door to block her path. She tried to duck under my arm, but I caught her up and held her as lightly as I could. Her silent struggle subsided after a moment. "Thank you," I whispered, acutely aware of the precarious way that dress was pooling around her. All I'd need to do would be to push the shoulder another inch to the left…

"You're such an asshole," she whined.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're talking about last year?" I breathed against her neck.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yeah. It does." I slid my hands to her waist and cinched in the fabric that gathered there. "Take this ridiculous thing off. It looks like a bedsheet on you."

She opened her eyes and some of that fire I loved so damn much snapped back to life. "Well, do you have any suggestions, Jaxson Dior?"

I looked around the room. "That one." I pointed to a lacy baby blue one. It was simple, almost casual, the only adornment besides the delicate lace was a simple ribbon crisscrossing its way up the back. Nothing showy. Nothing to overpower her incredible, natural beauty.

"Close your eyes."

"Hell no."

"Then at least look away?"

"Oh, you want me to pretend I haven't seen all this already?"

"Yes," she hissed fiercely.

I turned my back. "Never say I'm not a complete gentleman."

"You're not a complete gentleman," she whispered. I could hear the rasp of fabric against her skin, and it took all of my strength not to turn and catch her in the act. The image of the watery silk running down her naked back made it hard to focus on our argument. "There, is this better?"

I turned back to her and my jaw dropped. "Fuck yeah, it is."