Vintage Volume One (8 page)

He shook his head. “Not because of your dad. Because of you. You listened as a fan. You can judge that record however you want. You can take every experience you’ve had in your life and bring it to the table every time you listen. So that makes you an expert.” He took another bite of salad, not done eating.

I stared across the table at him, enjoying just looking at his face. Studying him, getting to know every line, every expression, every sentiment expressed in his eyes. “I love that.”

“It’s true of any art form. None of us are experts, and we’re all allowed our own opinions. On anything.”

“Well this expert likes Flashing Light’s lead guitarist better than lead vocalist.”

“Surprising given your father.”

“Not really. Why would I go for vocals when that’s my dad’s role?”

“Touché. You done?” He nodded toward my salad.

“All yours.”

He pulled my plate on top of his and proceeded to scarf down the rest of my salad.

“They don’t feed you on tour?”

He shrugged. “Not homemade food.”

“I could’ve made you a nicer meal than salad.”

He shoveled in the last bite. “This is perfect, Jimi. As are you.”

I lowered my eyes to the table. “Shut up.”

“You don’t know how to take a compliment.”

“No arguments here.” I picked up our empty plates and brought them to my kitchen sink. “I’ve spent my entire life assuming people only want to talk to me because of my dad.” I rinsed the two plates, and I felt Parker move in behind me again. That was becoming his signature move.

His voice was low and close to my ear when he spoke. “But you assume I want something else?”

“I heard you defending me in the alley to Vinnie when you couldn’t have had any idea I was listening.”

I set the two plates and forks in the dishwasher, trying to move out of his orbit even though I was finding it more and more difficult to. I cleaned up the counters and put the salad fixings away. He leaned against the counter and watched me.

“I already told you about the first time I saw you. I couldn’t let him talk shit when I’d already put you up on a pedestal.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stalked toward me and pressed my body back into the countertop. “I’m not being ridiculous. I’m being honest.”

He leaned down and nuzzled my neck in that way he had. His scruff against my skin was outrageous. I was about to tear my clothes off for him when he pulled back suddenly. He glanced at the clock on my oven.

“Shit. I didn’t realize how late it was. I have to go.”

I glanced away from him so he wouldn’t see the disappointment in my eyes. “Okay.”

I expected something further, some sort of explanation after all we’d shared. I’d taken for granted that he’d spend the night with me. It was what I wanted, but we weren’t dating. We weren’t exclusive by any means. He had a life, a busy one at that, so I hid the disappointment I felt.

Disappointment.

Another emotion that I’d missed in the total absence of emotions I’d experienced over the past year.

“I’m sorry.” He was sincere, but I had no response.

So, as usual, I shrugged.

“That fucking shrug.”

A smile tipped my lips.

“When can I see you again?” he asked. I was about to shrug when he stopped me. “I swear to God, if you even shrug right now…”

“What?” I prodded, provoking the beast.

He stepped in front of me, his body flush against mine, and he grabbed my chin roughly. My eyes met his, and his were hot with desire.

“You’ll be in big trouble. And then I’ll fuck you. Hard.”

“Fuck me hard before you go,” I whispered, the ache for him overwhelming me.

“I can’t,” he said, stepping back as regret filtered through his dark eyes. Disappointment washed over me. “Are you working tomorrow?”

I nodded. “Until eight again.”

He leaned forward to kiss me. It was one chaste kiss on my mouth.

“I’ve got practice all day tomorrow and a few other things to take care of. I’ll meet you when you get off. Sound okay?”

I nodded.

“See you at seven fifty-seven.”

I laughed, and he disappeared out my front door.

I locked it behind him, alone in my home with the myriad of emotions that he had caused exploding through my blood.

fifteen

A floorboard squeaked softly.

Footsteps.

Someone was in my condo.

I stilled in my bed.

The only person who had a key to my place was my dad, but he was in Seattle. Maybe. Somewhere in the upper Northwest, for sure.

I’d had copies of my keys made, but I’d never handed one out. Not to anyone. Not a single one.

I kept my breathing shallow, trying to be silent.

I heard the door to my bedroom open. I stilled in my bed. Fear pounded in my ears. I looked around me, desperate for a weapon. Anything. It was too goddamn dark. I couldn’t see an inch in front of my eyes.

Fucking drapes didn’t even let in the moonlight.

Terror crawled up my spine.

Someone was in my bedroom, and I didn’t know what to do.

I didn’t know if I should turn on the light, or if I should stay completely still.

I didn’t know if I should start screaming.

I didn’t know if someone was here to rob me, or to rape me, or to murder me.

All I knew was fear.

Adrenaline surged through me in a sudden moment of clarity. I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed the television remote as quietly as I could. If nothing else, I’d slam it against the intruder’s head.

I’d kick him in the balls.

I’d fucking kill him to protect myself.

A brief vision of Katie flashed before my eyes in the darkness of my room.

Katie, my best friend.

She hadn’t seen the danger until it was too late.

I wouldn’t be so unfortunate. I was awake now, and despite my fear, I was lucid enough to fight.

And I’d fight for my life even if it meant fighting to the death.

I reached over and turned on my light, temporarily blinded.

The intruder froze by the door, shocked by the brilliant light. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt and dark pants, and before anything else registered, I flung the remote with all of my might at him. It hit him in the stomach.

“Fuck!” he yelled, doubling over in pain as I looked at my nightstand for something, anything else to use as a weapon.

I always looked at the idiots in scary movies, wondering how they could be so fucking dumb. Anything in my room could be considered a weapon. I’d already used my remote. I was seconds away from leaping from the bed and crashing my forty-two inch flat screen over his head when he yelled out again.

“Stop!”

The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I was too groggy and the bright light was still temporarily blinding me.

“Damien?” I whispered.

It couldn’t be.

He was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

I knew that, but a brief moment of nostalgia filtered into my veins.

I didn’t want it to be Damien.

I didn’t miss him anymore.

I didn’t want him in my life anymore.

I couldn’t miss him when he’d left me with indifference, and now that void was starting to be filled by a stranger.

“Jimi, stop! It’s Parker!” My eyes finally focused in the bright light after complete darkness.

The stranger.

“P—P—Parker?” I stuttered. “Jesus! You scared the fucking shit out of me!”

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“You gave me your key earlier.”

“I did?” I glanced at the clock. It was after four in the morning.

He nodded. “You don’t remember?”

I shook my head. I thought I’d remembered the night in detail, but maybe I’d had more to drink than I had realized.

“I had some shit to take care of, but I told you I’d try to come back,” he said. “So you gave me a key.”

“I don’t even know you. Why the fuck would I give you a key?”

“As I recall, I got to know you pretty well earlier this evening. If you need me to prove it, I would be happy to show you how well I know you. Now can we move past this so we can go to sleep? I’m really fucking tired.” He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks. He unbuckled his belt, lowering his black jeans to the ground.

He stood in just his black t-shirt and his black boxer shorts. My heart started racing. And then he pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it haphazardly on top of his jeans.

If my heart was beating wildly before, I wasn’t sure what this was. I was seconds away from cardiac arrest or something.

He was tall and lean, but he hid some serious muscles beneath those clothes. Google hadn’t done him justice. His abdomen was a perfect six pack of carved muscles, and his arms and chest looked strong without being bulky.

In a word, he was perfect.

He had ink on his smooth skin. From where I sat up in bed, I could make out a Tiger with some tribal designs on his bicep. A snake wound its way across his chest and onto his torso, and a series of words that I couldn’t read from my position were written down his entire right side. There were other designs—flowers and words and artwork—but the ferocity of the tiger was what called out to me. His left arm was bare.

The art made him different. Beautiful. He stood apart from the rest because of the intricate designs he placed permanently on his body.

I itched to know the meaning behind every needle that had ever prodded his skin. 

My mouth watered as I gazed at his perfect physique.

“You can stop staring any time,” he said with a smirk.

“Don’t have a body like that and take off your shirt if you don’t want me to look.”

He chuckled. “Sorry. Turn off the light.”

I shook my head. If I turned off the light, the view would disappear. I wasn’t ready for that.

He walked around and settled in on the empty side of my bed, sliding his feet under the blanket.

I watched his every move, studying him and learning him.

I was suddenly wide awake.

I had a man in my bed—a very sexy man, by the way—who wanted to just go to sleep?

It was late. He was tired. I’d had a few hours of sleep and I was somewhat lucid.

I sighed as I leaned over and turned out the light. He reached for me and pulled me toward him. My body fit perfectly against his, and even though I didn’t want to go to sleep, I had to resist his temptation for the night.

sixteen

I woke up alone in bed the next morning.

Dreams are funny things. They could mean nothing. They could mean everything.

They can stay with you all day and make you feel warm and lighthearted.

They can stay with you all day and make you feel guilty and shameful.

Or they can fuck with your mind to the point where you aren’t sure what the hell to believe anymore.

I glanced over at the clock. It was a little before nine. I had two hours before I needed to be at work.

The other side of my bed was virtually untouched. Smooth.

I checked my nightstand. The remote was in place where I’d left it. It wasn’t on the floor where it had fallen after I’d thrown it at my intruder.

The fear from the night before had felt so real, but it had all been nothing more than a really vivid dream.

I really needed to stop taking my sleep medication.

I finally got up and fixed myself some breakfast, and then I took a shower. By the time I looked at the clock, I realized how late it was. I had to be at work in less than twenty minutes, and it was usually a solid twenty-five minute drive.

I let my hair air dry as I rushed to my car and sped the whole way to Vintage.

When I pulled onto the street where Vintage stood, I saw the flashing lights of police cars. As I slowly approached the store, I found that the lights were parked in front of my store.

I typically parked in back, but that day I was too scared to drive around to the back. I had to know what was going on. I pulled along the curb in front of the store. Police tape lined the sidewalk.

The store was closed, not that anyone would’ve been able to get near the entrance anyway with all of the police officers walking around. One of the front windows had been shattered. Glass was scattered along the sidewalk in front of the broken window.

I threw my car into park and rushed out as fear took hold of my chest. “What’s going on?” I asked the first officer I saw.

“Move along, lady,” he muttered.

“I work here,” I said.

I rushed in front of the police tape. Another officer halted my progress. “Ma’am, you can’t be here.”

“It’s okay,” I heard Tim’s voice beside me. “She works here.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“They’re investigating. There was a fire in the store. Luckily Anna from next door happened to be driving by this morning and saw a small fire in the window. Without her quick thinking, we could’ve lost a lot more.” We both glanced over at Anna Ureta, the beautiful soul who had saved Vintage. She stood in the entrance of her bookstore, Anna’s Literary Antiques, watching the commotion.

“How bad is it?” I asked. Police were everywhere.

He shrugged just as Barry walked up to us. “Police said someone broke the window with a rock and then threw in a bottle filled with gasoline,” Barry informed us. “They tossed in a match. It was a throw and go. A smash and dash. A toss and—”

“So it was deliberate?” Tim cut off his third rhyme, voicing the question in my head.

Barry nodded, and then an officer stole his attention from the scene.

“Go home, Rox,” Tim said quietly. “We’ll clean up the mess. You shouldn’t be here.”

I glared at Tim. “Why not?”

“The press will be here any minute. You don’t need that shit.”

He had a point. The press knew who I was, but, thankfully, they left me alone.

For the most part.

I always felt like someone was watching me, though. That feeling never went away, but it was the price I had to pay for growing up the daughter of a rock god.

An arm slipped around my waist. “What’s going on?”

I was immediately comforted by Parker’s presence. I didn’t even question why he was there. The fact was that he’d come when I needed him, as if by some premonition. I didn’t care how it happened. All I knew was that I felt better the second I felt him.

I turned into him and allowed him to hold me for a moment as the weight of what happened to my store pressed in on my chest.

Someone had tried to destroy Vintage.

The question was why someone would want to do that.

“Someone broke a window and lit up a bottle filled with gasoline.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Jesus. Why would someone do that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling me in a little closer.

I shrugged in his arms.

“It’s okay not to be, Jimi. It’s okay to be scared.” He was murmuring soothingly into my hair, an odd act considering the way he’d jammed his cock down my throat the night before.

“I know.”

“Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t want to leave,” I finally said. “They might need my help.”

“Can I at least get you away from here, then?”

I shook my head. “No. I want to stay.”

“Why don’t we go to that bar across the street? You can watch and be close if they need you.”

“Why?”

“I just want to protect you. Media will be here any second.”

I sighed. “Fine,” I conceded. “Let me just go tell Tim.”

“Who is Tim?”

“My manager.”

He raised his eyebrows like he didn’t believe me, like he thought there was something more. Frankly I didn’t care. I didn’t have to answer to him. He wasn’t about to turn me into some weakling who needed him.

But I’d be lying if I said that he didn’t comfort every worry, heal every wound, and soothe every ache when he held me in his arms.

I touched base with Tim. Parker stayed back, but his eyes watched my every move. Just to spite him, I gave Tim a hug. It was clearly a hug between friends. A hug between coworkers after our place of employment had nearly gone up in flames wasn’t inappropriate.

The fact that I was using it to make Parker jealous may have been a little inappropriate, but that was a whole different issue.

Once we were seated in the bar across the street and our orders had been placed with a cute little waitress who looked at Parker with lust in her eyes, Parker started asking me questions.

“Why does Tim look at you like that?”

“Why do you care?” I countered. “You don’t own me, so stop acting like you do.”

He blinked and looked away from me. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“What’s with the jealousy?”

“I’m not jealous. I’ve just never been good at sharing.”

“We never labeled this as exclusive,” I said as the waitress set down our drinks—beer for Parker, a glass of red wine for me. “We’ve fucked a total of one time.”

He glanced up at the waitress, and I did, too. So I may have said that last line just to piss her off. I smirked at her.

If she spit in my drink, at least the alcohol would kill the germs. I probably deserved it.

“I know, but it meant something to me.” His eyes were fixed on a spot out the window.

I stared at him for a long moment, and then I turned my attention back to the store across the street without responding.