A Bleu Streak Christmas (11 page)

We only pulled out of Nashville not
even an hour or two ago after bringing down the packed-out house. Man, it so
rocked tonight. So much so, everyone’s still bouncing off the walls.

“I’ll go check,” Tate says, heading up
front. A few minutes later, he pushes back through. “Bad news. There’s been a
traffic pileup ahead.” He mumbles this as he taps out a text. “More bad news.
We could be stuck for a while. No exits between here and the accident.” He
shoves back in at the table. “Might as well deal those cards back out.”

The next hour passes with me, Jen, and
Max whooping Tate, Izzy, and Blake at Spades. Blake’s still whining. Jewels
should put up with him on her bus since she’s the one responsible for including
him in this crowd. The little punk gets on my nerves.

Tate’s phone pings a new message. “More
bad news,” he groans after reading it.

“What is it now?” Max asks.

“People are out of their vehicles and,
well…” He reaches over and cracks open the window.

“Bleu Streak, Bleu Streak…” A
substantial sounding crowd is chanting our name.

“Toss them some CD’s and stuff,” Trace
offers.

“Already got the bodyguards on it, but
your fearless leader wants to do something on the sly.” He rolls his eyes.

Max visibly perks at this. “What’s
Dillon got in mind?”

“Look out the window and check out the
scene on top of his bus.”

We all do and find the bodyguards up
there tossing all kinds of swag out. As we look on, the blue running lights on
our bus shut off, darkening the scene a bit.

“Dillon thinks you all can sneak up on
top of this bus and give the stranded motorists a private concert.” Tate is
rapidly texting while filling us in. “Ben has already slipped two guitars and a
tambourine up there. He says for you, Mave, to take your sticks and use the
roof as your drum.

He doesn’t have to say it twice. I
release Izzy’s hand that I’ve kept for the last little while and grab my
sticks. Pushing them in my back pocket, I stand waiting.

“Two questions,” Jen chimes in. I know
what’s coming. For some reason, she’s decided to take on the role of my nagging
older sister. “First, Dillon actually agreed to let Mave on the roof?”

Tate shows her the text, causing her to
scoff. “I’ve got it in writing.”

“Well, someone sure is feeling reckless
tonight. And just how does he propose y’all get back down once that crowd takes
to surrounding this bus?”

“Good question,” Tate says, tapping out
another text. Moments later, it pings. “Okay. Here’s the deal. Dillon and Logan
already snuck out of their driver’s door and are on the roof.” As if on cue,
knocking starts sounding from above our heads. “The bodyguards will block the
back and front with me and Ben helping. Sing a few songs, and then each one of
you will slip back in through Joe’s door.”

Max is already heading to the front of
the bus. “Let’s go,” he says over his shoulder. Me and Trace follow. As soon as
we reach the top I have to refrain from giggling like the excited boy I am. The
icy air hits me at the same time the reality of what we’re about to do does. This
is going to be epic. I spot two figures lying flat on the roof, so I army-crawl
over to them.

“It’s kinda cold up here,” Trace
whispers through chattering teeth.

“We’re about to warm things up, bro,”
Dillon says. “Let’s sing ‘Crashing,’ ‘My Jewels,’ a cover of ‘Elderly Woman’—”

Trace interrupts. “Why are we singing
Pearl Jam?”

“Yeah, dumb question, man. To say thank
you to my lovely, stubborn wife for agreeing to let us do this.”

“Yeah, bro. Took some talking before
our girl would agree. It looked close to doubtful,” Logan adds.

“Let’s close it out with ‘We Wish You a
Merry Christmas’ a cappella.”

We all nod our heads.

“Mave, stay close to the middle of the
bus at all times. No getting anywhere near the sides until it’s time to bolt.
Jewels done threatened me in ways I’m not repeating if you fall off. Got it?”
Dillon gives me that narrow-eyed look.

“Sure, man.”

“Now start us off with a beat.”

We all sit up cross-legged, and for a
moment, I just have to take in the view. Miles upon miles of red and white car
lights blinking and twinkling in the dark night. What a rush to be so high up.
It almost feels like we are a part of the night sky.

With the first tap of my sticks, the
blue running lights flash on, illuminating us and I’m right impressed by that
trick.

Before the guitars can strum the first
chords, the crowd circles our bus. We get down to business, with phones
directed on us. Even Ben has taken up shop on the other bus’s roof, capturing
the show with his phone. I let all that fade away and focus on the music.

I’m absolutely addicted to music—the
chords, the melody, the lyrics. Every part comes together to create something
so extraordinary.

It’s over way too soon. After we wish
everyone a Merry Christmas, they go to begging for an encore. It’s not to
happen, though. Luckily, the traffic is starting to slowly move, so they all
scatter back to their vehicles, making it easier to make our getaway.

We hustle back down, but not before I
get Logan’s flipping boot to the mouth. The throb is instant. My tongue
inspects my teeth and finds them all intact, so I decide to let it slide. We
all emerge back to the bus, just in time for it to start moving. Fist bumps and
high-fives are divvied out all around. That was one tight experience.

“I swear! What happened to you this
time?” Jen snaps.

She’s scowling so hard it looks painful
and Izzy’s eyes are wide with panic.

I dab my stinging lip and find it
sticky-wet with blood. “Logan did it.”

“Sorry, bro.”

“No worries.” We fist-bump again,
making it all right.

Izzy is before me in a flash, donning a
wet cloth and pulling me down in a chair. The idea of her being my little nurse
is all kinds of appealing.

“I think you should kiss it back to
better,” I tell her around a mouthful of wet cloth she’s dabbing my lip with.
She gives me no reply, but those sweet cheeks give me all the answer I need
when they tinge pink instantly.

“Just don’t let Jewels see that.”
Dillon points at my lip. “Now, it looks like y’all are stuck with me and my man
Logan for a while, so how’s about some Spades.”

Did I mention we are all addicted to
Spades? Yep. And it makes the next few hours slide right by. This has been some
kind of day, for sure. We wanted to perform, and we most certainly got our
wish.

Once we kick Logan and Dillon out at a
rest stop, everyone heads to bed. As the bus quietly rolls down the interstate,
me and my doll text for the next longest about random things. I know she’s
right next door, only separated from me by a thin curtain, but I know it’s best
to keep that distance intact for tonight. I’m growing crazy for her too fast
and it’s obvious she’s not ready to take me on fully. The last text, I ask what
she wants for Christmas. She texts back that she has everything she needs. I
text, wanting to know what she
wants
not
needs
. Instead of answering she
proposes the same question to me. My fingers tap the message before can I stop
them—
all I want for Christmas is my doll
baby
.

Needless to say, it bums me out pretty
bad when she doesn’t reply.

Chapter
Twelve

I
zzy

I’ve
never seen nor have I ever heard “Drummer Boy” performed so spectacularly.
Tonight’s Christmas Eve concert was concluded with this song and it is now my
favorite. Mave advised me to watch the show from the front row tonight and I’m
so glad he did. As the lights shut completely off, goose bumps rose on my arms
even before it began. Two sets of drums illuminated in sync with one another
only when the sticks struck the surface. Dillon sang, but was nowhere to be
seen. You could barely see the drummers, even when the beats lit up the drums.
It was magical. Hands down, Bleu Streak is magic.

Pacing around my room, I’m too wound up
to sleep. Ben has rented out a ski lodge for the band and some of their family
for the next two days, so we can celebrate Christmas.

I hear a light tapping at my door as
I’m about to pass it, so I open it and find a handsome sight—Maverick King
grinning with a roll of tape in his hands.

“I’m not letting you tie me up,” I
tease, surprising us both.

“Now that’s straight up tempting,
doll.”

“Oh, that reminds me. I got you a gift
today while I was shopping.” I hurry over and retrieve the pink gift bag and
hand it to him.

He looks at it curiously with an
eyebrow raised. His laugh echoes warmly around my room as he pulls a doll baby
out the bag.

“Just what you wanted.” I smile.

“Not quite,” he says, dropping the bag
on the bed, along with the roll of tape, and pulling out a sprig of something
from his back pocket. Holding it over my head, he whispers, “Please.”

Oh. My. The man is asking permission to
kiss me. I can barely swallow as the flush warms my neck and face.

He closes in on me, eyes trained on my
lips. “It’s tradition with this group to not give material gifts for Christmas.
We give acts of love and there’s one in particular I really would like to give
you.”

I take a step back.

“Just a kiss, doll. That’s all.”

That’s all? Then why does it feel like
we are giving so much more than that?

I brace myself as his hands secure a
hold on my hips, dragging me close.

“Relax, Izzy. This won’t hurt.
Promise.”

“It may eventually.”

He skims his nose along my neck. “Ah…
You really do like me, too.” His words whisper along my skin, coercing a shiver
to race through me.

“I think it’s more than that,” I admit,
not recognizing my own breathy voice.

His lips leave my neck as he leans
slightly back and pierces me with those challenging eyes that are flashing with
the gold flecks peeking out of the rich brown. Everything beyond him
disappears. “We both know this is more. Sweetheart, I’ve been writing songs on
the fact that it’s more.”

Mave doesn’t wait for permission. Bending
slightly, he cups my face into his large hands and connects his mouth to mine. The
connection goes beyond flesh—I feel it seep permanently into my soul. We don’t
move any further than just holding the moment perfectly still. Eventually, impatience
grows inside me with wanting to explore the indulgent contours of his mouth. I
move along his bottom lip, placing as many caresses as it can grasp. With my
mouth watering, my tongue reaches out to lick my parched lips and meet his as
well.

The deep groan rumbling his broad chest
causes my eyes to open, meeting his dilated pupils and hooded lids. He holds my
gaze as his lips part mine, so that we can both explore the depth of this
first, and oddly permanent-feeling, kiss.

Maverick King declares adamantly that
he can lose control while fighting addictions, but the man is in complete
control of this kiss. His heart may be fluttering wildly under my palm, but he
keeps this kiss achingly sweet and on a soft melody I’d love for him to play
only for me daily.

He said Christmas is when they exchange
acts of love. This is exactly what it feels like, with no lust or aggression to
be found. Such tenderness from such a tough guy summons my emotions to give way
to tears.

Mave begins the kiss as well as closes
it. He takes a step back, leaving me instantly lonely. The lovely show of him
licking his lips before curling them into a wicked grin has me transfixed.

“I’m hungry,” he says, releasing me
from his spell.

“Nothing new.” I smile back while
trying to steady myself. “I was about to go work on my gift to everyone. Help
me and I’ll feed you.”

He takes my hand and leads me down the
hall that is only occupied by the band. They’ve set their family members on
another hall to protect them from any shenanigans. I see why that’s a must as
we pass each door spun into a web of tape.

“Umm… Looks like you’ve been busy.” My
eyebrows rise as I look up at him.

“Yep, but don’t worry. You won’t be
finding any on your door. I know better than to bite the pretty hand that feeds
me.” He winks as he pulls our entwined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of
my hand.

For the next hour, I feed Mave an
assortment of homemade treats as he helps make more. We knock out homemade
pimento cheese for Dillon and Jewels, prepare veggies for a quiche specifically
for Logan, prepare the batter for dried cherry and rosemary muffins for Trace’s
sweet and savory tooth, lots of chocolate for Jen and Max, and giant chocolate
chip cookies for Grace and Will. Of course I make fat cinnamon rolls for my
spicy drummer. My favorite part of the hour is the stolen little kisses Mave
keeps dishing out as we work side by side.

Mave escorts me back to my door.
Casting a look around, he steps into my space and wraps his arms securely
around me. “I’d really like another taste of those sweet lips.”

My heart is pounding so passionately in
my ears, I’m not able to hear myself mumble out my permission. I wait for him
to present me with one last kiss, but am caught off guard when he licks my
bottom lip slowly. My entire body jolts at his boldness.

“Mmm… Delicious.”

He saunters away, leaving me holding on
to the doorknob to support my wobbly legs, panting like a lovesick girl.

Oh. No…

I am a lovesick girl.

Oh. No!

•♫•♫•♫•

I’m already awake when the bed dips
slightly before a warm body snuggles into me. My eyes open and regard the
little Snow White lying on the opposite pillow—green eyes sparkling and that
heart-shaped mouth grinning.

“Santa came and he ate all the cookies
we made him.”

“So why are you in here?” I pull Grace
closer and press a kiss to her forehead.

“All the doors are taped up. I can’t
get to Momma and Daddy.”

I chuckle. “Tell Uncle Mave about it.”

“I already did. He’s downstairs making
coffee and proheating the ovens for you.”

“Preheating,” I correct. Well, isn’t
that sweet of him. “So, you want me to help wake everyone up?” She nods and
those glossy-black curls bounce all over. I can’t help but run my fingers
through them.

“Can I brush my teeth and hair first?”

“Okay, but I don’t have to do I?”

“It’s Christmas. I suppose you can get
a pass on that for a little while.”

“Izzy, I love you.”

“Aww, and I love you. So much so, I
wish you were my little girl.” I tickle her sides until she’s hiccupping in
giggles.

After she calms back down, Grace asks,
“Why don’t you have kids?”

“I haven’t found the right man to have
them with, yet.”

I scoot out of the bed and head to the
bathroom with my little friend on my heels.

“I saw you holding Uncle Mave’s hand.
Looks like y’all’s hands fit together real good.”

As I pull my hair in a messy bun, I eye
her through the mirror. She looks back at me so serious that restraining the
laughter wanting to bubble out is quite challenging. She’s so darn cute and
curious for a nine-year-old.

“Uncle Mave fits you.” She’s a
determined little thing, too.

“I’ve only known him for just over a
week,” I say around my toothbrush. “It takes longer than that to know if
someone fits.”

“I knew you fit right as my friend that
day we met. And Daddy says he knew Momma was his when he was younger than me.”

The toothbrush stills in my mouth as I
gaze down at this little girl, who is adequately schooling me on true love.

“You make very good points, Miss Grace.
I really do like Mave, so we’ll see.”

“So, you gonna let him keep you
forever?”

I rinse and place the toothbrush back
in the holder. “That’s a decision he and I will have to make together some
day.”

She looks out the open bathroom door
and smiles. “I think he wants to keep you.”

I turn and find the handsome guy in
question standing there—nodding his head in agreement. His tousled hair,
rumpled T-shirt, and flannel night pants easily kick my heartrate up. A drum dangles
close to his hips with the strap around his shoulders, and he’s holding a set
of drumsticks. The man is downright adorable. My body automatically gravitates
closer, wanting to take him in more.

Oh my. How did I let this happen?

The genuine smile on his face gives
away to the fact he caught this bathroom conversation. Thankfully, he lets that
topic pause for now.

“You ready to wake everyone up?”
There’s an air of mischief surrounding him.

“Yes!” Grace squeals.

“Follow me, ladies.”

We do as we’re told, following him to
the end of the hall. All at once he starts beating the drum as he rushes to the
other end of the hall. We watch on as doors go to slinging open with
bleary-eyed people stumbling smackdab into the webs of tape. Each one is
covered in strips of tape with glares positioned towards Mr. Drummer.

“Merry Christmas, suckers!” Mave yells
at full volume and goes back to beating his drum. He’s standing right in front
of Trace while the poor guy tries unraveling himself from the tape. Mave is going
to town playing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” I think this is his way of
getting back at Trace for the morning wakeup calls on the bus.

“Mave!” they all yell back.

“Come on, ladies. Time to make our getaway.”
He abandons the drum and swoops Grace up on his shoulders. Taking my hand, he
leads us away from his angry mob.

After everyone’s bellies are well past
bulging, we waddle into the massive den where the ten foot Christmas tree
twinkles and the stone fireplace crackles with a lazy fire, causing the space
to glow with warmth.

I expected a toy store and a new car to
be left by Santa, but am completely surprised by what is on display. A modest
showing from Santa sits in front of the tree. Oddly enough, Grace and Will seem
completely content with it. A few new dolls and art supplies sit in wait for
Grace. New drumsticks and a custom guitar case wait for Will to claim them.

This crowd seems so unaffected by their
fame. It’s very humbling.

Once we are all settled down, Dillon
leads us in a heartfelt prayer, thanking God for His ultimate gift, Jesus
Christ. He then takes his time thanking God for each one of us. I’m completely
caught off guard to be included in his thanksgiving to God. He is most
definitely the designated leader of the group and seems to be leading this
family properly.

He says amen with the group joining
him. They pray before everything also, never forgetting to thank God. This
entire time I’ve spent with this amazing group of people has been a gift. I
smile a warm thank-you over to Jewels and she grins back. Yep, she knows she’s
the best.

“Izzy, we draw names amongst us and
give out acts of love. Thank you for your gift this morning. My belly is still
in appreciation.” Dillon pauses to rub his belly. “I think Mave has taken care
of you with a gift of love.”

My cheeks blaze hot as I look over at
Mave. Chuckling, he shakes his head and dips close to my ear.

“I got you something else, doll. But I
won’t mind giving you more of that first gift any time you want.” He hands over
a card.

Inside is a recipe of his Momma’s
smothered fried chicken with a promise to cook it for me sometime. Not wanting
to be left out in giving, I tear the face of the card off and after finding a
pen, I quickly jot down a recipe for stuffed monkey bread with my own promise
to make it for him. He smiles appreciatively before moving his attention over
to Dillon.

“I drew Dillon’s name. Here.” He hands
Dillon a shirt box.

Before Mave can retreat, Dillon grabs
him up in a manly hug. Sniffles sound from the larger-than-life rock star,
flooring me.

Clearing his throat, he passes the box
over to Logan. “Mave gave us all a gift. He’s finally going to let us share his
songs.”