A Bleu Streak Christmas (6 page)

“I’ve
noticed. Me and the guys have been out in California a bit lately, but I still
can’t believe I’ve not run into you one time. Jewels told me Southern Twist is
you and your mom’s bakery. Now I’ve been in there frequently, and that Beth is
one sweet lady.”

I
can’t help but smile at him complimenting my mom. “I stay in the back. Either
in the kitchen or office.”

“Well,
I’m glad you’re not hiding anymore.”

His
thumb is tracing a tight circle on my wrist, causing my pulse to race up
several notches. I guarantee he feels it.

“Why?”

Mave’s
deep chuckle sounds. “You ask a lot of questions when those sweet lips decide
to work.”

Well,
now I’m blushing like a fool and trying to remove my hand from his, but he’s
not allowing it. I give it a good yank as I stand up with him finally
relenting.

“Good
night, Mave.”

“Good
morning, doll.”

That
sounds a lot like flirting, but I’m too flabbergasted to acknowledge it. Instead,
I rush away quickly like the scared girl I am.

Chapter Seven

M
ave

Texas was tight. Talk about a
straight-up natural high that I flew on all the way up north. We should coin
this The Zigzag Tour with all the weaving we’re doing all over this country.
Tonight, it’s Chicago then back down south to New Orleans in two days. We’ve
got a gala thing tomorrow night that raises money for our charity—Music Notes.
It’s a program that helps to give underprivileged kids access to music in the
forms of lessons, instruments, and music camps. I’m proud to call it ours, so
wearing some fancy suit and eating some fancy meal is worth it.

“What
about just going to bed after the concert for a change?” Trace whines. The baby
isn’t even here yet, and he’s already sounding like an old man.

Ben’s
uncle is hosting us at his lake house just north of Chicago after the show
tonight. The crowd is itching to let off some steam in private.

Tate
enters the backstage lounge, announcing, “Fifteen minutes.” He plops down
beside Izzy on the couch and playfully nudges her in the side.

She
offers him a small smile before scanning the room. When her eyes come to a stop
on me, I can’t help but smile in satisfaction. I don’t realize I’ve stopped
tapping the beat out on the stool tops in front of us, until Will begins
tapping the tune out on my shoulder with one of his sticks. I tap him in the
head once before we go back to practicing our routine for the night.

Without
looking away from me, Izzy asks, “We’ll be on private property. How about
shooting off some fireworks?”

The
room rumbles in unison, “No!”

“Last
time we goofed around with fireworks, some of us ended up in jail,” Dillon says
as he eyes his pretty girl.

“Let’s
not revisit that tonight, Dimples.” Jewels shudders dramatically as she leans
into Dillon.

One
glimpse at Izzy shows she’s completely lost.

“I’ll
fill you in later,” I reassure her. She nods her head.

“My
uncle has a pontoon boat docked at the house. We could take it out for a
midnight cruise around the lake,” Ben offers.

“As
long as Mave isn’t allowed to be captain,” Jewels says sternly.

I
roll my eyes at Jewels and she in return sticks her tongue out.

The
ringing of a cellphone draws my attention back to the doll on the couch. Her
lovely face breaks out in such a genuine smile, I’m instantly jealous of
whoever provoked it.

“Hey,
Momma.” She says.

The
sound of that name brings me relief.

Rambling
quietly into the phone, she scoots out of the lounge, having already said more
words to her mom than I’ve ever heard her speak.

Five
minutes pass and I can’t resist going to find her. Shoving my sticks in my back
pocket, I head out the door and nearly plow her over. After steadying her, I
prop myself against the wall beside her.

“I
should probably let you go, Momma,” Izzy says quickly.

On
impulse, I grab her phone, leaving her stunned.

“Hey,
Ms. Beth. This is Maverick King. Judith King’s son. Just wanted to tell you I’m
a huge fan of your bakery. My mom is crazy over your salted pecan pies.” I look
over and smirk at the doll glaring at me. She’s one fine doll, too, rocking
artfully shredded jeans with tall black boots and a white Bleu Streak tee under
a black blazer. All that fair hair cascading around her shoulders… The chick is
killing me.

Her
mom’s voice pulls me out of my checking out her daughter. “Why thank you, young
man. Are y’all taking good care of my baby?”

“Yes,
ma’am. Your baby is in good hands. Except for her not talking much to me. You
should probably get ahold of her for that. It’s really hurting my feelings.”

Ms.
Beth laughs wholeheartedly.

“I
bet you didn’t raise your daughter to be so rude.”

Izzy
surprises me by hauling off and punching me in the arm.

“Ouch!
Now she just punched me.” I scoff. “The girl needs a spanking. I’ll take care
of that if you need me to.”

Izzy’s
mom takes a while to settle her laughing down. Taking a few deep breaths, she
says, “Young man, I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time. I need to
bake you something special for that gift.”

“Now
ya talking my language. What’s those cinnamon cookies you make called?
Gigglepoodles?”

For
the record, I’m not stupid. I know they are called snickerdoodles, but goofing
around to make this woman on the other end of this phone sing out in such a
happy melody is so worth it.

Both
Izzy and her mom say in accord, “Snickerdoodles.”

“You
call them whatever you want. I call them addictive.”

“I’ll
text Izzy a new recipe I’m working on for caramel-filled snickerdoodles. Have
her make them for you.”

“Yes,
ma’am.”

“By
the way, are you single?”

My
eyes automatically seek Izzy’s warm brown ones. “Now, young lady, that’s a bit
personal for you to be asking on our first phone date.” Yes, I’m flirting with
her and am having just the finest time doing it. “But I’ll tell you anyway.
Yes, I am and hoping to be changing that real soon.”

“That
sounds promising.”

“If
I can just get her to loosen up and talk to me.”

“Don’t
give up too quick.”

“No
ma’am. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Tate
pushes into the hall, eyeing us both before tapping his watch.

“Look,
sweetheart, I hate to cut our date short, but it’s time to go rock this place
out. You take care and don’t forget that recipe.”

“I’m
sending it as soon as we hang up. You take care of my Izzy, please.”

“You
got it.”

After
pressing the END button, I hit the new contact app and add mine to her very
limited list. Seriously, chick only has like a dozen. I’ve lost count of mine
after it hit the hundreds. I call my number, feel my phone vibrate in my
pocket, and hit END again. Izzy doesn’t catch any of this, due to Tate going
over some stuff he needs her to take care of later.

“Oh
yeah. You’re sitting with Jewels and Grace in the VIP section up front tonight,”
he tells her.

I
know what a VIP section means. “What are the suits from the label doing here
tonight?” I ask him.

“Making
sure the filming is coming along. We’re already past a million in preorders for
A Bleu Streak Christmas DVD. So we best deliver.”

“The
band has definitely delivered so far. It’ll be a great concert DVD,” Izzy says
with a confidence I haven’t witnessed from her until now.

I
hand over her phone and she hands over a stick of gum.

“I
want to know what you and my mom were discussing.” Her cute little brows
pucker.

“Now,
now, doll. I don’t kiss and tell.” Before I can come to enough sense to stop
myself, I press a kiss to her delicate cheek. It’s impossible not to linger a
few beats too long with taking in the silkiness of her skin.

Dang…

I
finally pull away and am rewarded by that attractive flush painting along her
skin that she seems to have no control over. Without a word, I saunter off with
as much swagger as I can produce, demanding myself not to look back at her.

Santa
suit #2 is debuting tonight. I’m sure it’s going to impress the label suits. As
I tap out the opening beats for the show, my eyes are trained on the side
entrance that is roped off. Moments later Santa enters the arena on his
electric-blue Harley.

Santa
comes to a stop right in front of Jewels, hops off the bike, and commences to
kissing his pretty girl right in front of everyone. Santa ain’t holding back.
He’s kissing her like the world is seconds from ending. Dude is my hero, for
sure. The place is close to being in a frenzy and not one lyric has been sung
yet.

After
hotshot places Jewels back on her feet, she hands him a mic. Santa then
launches into singing our revamped version of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa.” And
dude is killing it. Of course, Santa ain’t kissing Mommy. Nope. Dillon is
kissing Jewels. He stays on the lower level, walking close enough to the velvet
rope to stay just out of grabbing reach as he serenades his swooning fans.

The
lights are trained below us, so I see the suits looking very impressed. I also
catch Izzy watching not the show of Santa, but me.

My
surge of testosterone begs me to show off in front of this woman, so I toss the
sticks in the air, catch them, and go back to shredding my drums. Izzy presents
me with a wide grin when she realizes I’m watching her, too, and this little
drum act is just for her. I watch her until the lights dim back over their
section and Dillon finally joins us on stage.

The
show is epic, hands down, and flies by too fast as always. We’ve just wrapped a
second encore, leaving Will and Dillon to close it out with an acoustic duet. I
want to watch it from the audience, so I shrug on a hoodie to shroud my face,
even though I’m drenched in sweat from performing, and hurry to the VIP
section.

A
bodyguard assists in sneaking me in while the crowd is still on their feet
applauding. I’m able to steal Izzy’s cushiony seat without her noticing. She
sits down, but bolts right back up and spins around to catch her thief.

Smirking,
I tap my lap. “Sit. They’re about to start.”

My
little skittish friend looks around for an alternative. Not finding one, she
reluctantly eases into my lap—making my night. I tuck my face into the side of
her heavenly-scented neck.

She
stiffens. “What are you doing?”

“Hiding
my face so no one sees it’s me. Now hold that sweet little behind of yours
still.”

“What?
Why?” She peeks over at me, causing her nose to brush mine.

A
growl sounds from the back of my throat as I clamp down on her hips to still
her squirming. “You’re killing me.”

“Oh.”
She finally gets it and goes completely motionless.

All
the lights go down with one spotlight remaining on my boys. There’s no way all
eyes aren’t riveted to the stage. Perched on stools with guitars resting in
their laps, Dillon and Will set into “O Holy Night.” Both black heads are bent
with complete focus on the chords they are beckoning from their guitars. Will
plays the lead riff with Dillon noodling over it. There’s nothing amateurish
about it—downright
 
mind-blowing with
skill. I couldn’t be more proud of Will if he was my very own son. The kid
blows me away. The dudes harmonize with perfection and my hands can’t help but
tap out the beat against Izzy’s hips.

Hands
down, epic.

•♫•♫•♫•

The show went off flawless, and the
boat ride was really relaxing. The gift drop-off for the night, not so much. It
was flawed and tense. But just as soon as I enter the house, after coming close
to disaster, the aroma of warm cinnamon hits me and all’s right with the world.
The pain in my neck and back forgotten, I follow my nose to the kitchen and
behold a beautiful sight. Izzy placing cookies on a cooling rack is downright
sexy. The guys barrel in so I lunge for the rack, grabbing up three before the
rest disappear. The only sound in the kitchen is the whole lot of us smacking
and moaning—they’re that good. Tucked inside of all that cinnamon goodness is
gooey caramel.

Dillon grabs up a gallon of milk and
takes a long swig of it before passing it around to the rest of us. By the time
the jug makes its way to Blake, dude only gets a few drops. He’s whining like
the twenty-three year old baby he is. I don’t tell him there’s another gallon
in the fridge either.

“Izzy, I think we need another round of
cookies and milk for the night we’ve just pulled off,” Dillon says, taking off
his black beanie. I don’t know why he wears one. His hair is darker than the
cap.

Izzy eyes me questioningly, then her
brown eyes widen to capacity. “You’re bleeding.” She points at my head. “Your
ear,” she clarifies.

I grope around until my fingers hit on
a pretty tender spot on my earlobe. Good thing I wasn’t wearing my silver hoops.
Them suckers would have probably been ripped out when I landed in that unwelcoming
bush.

Before I know it, she’s tending to
me—dabbing at the cut with peroxide and trying to secure a small square bandage
to my earlobe. I mind it none.

“You hurt anywhere else?”

“I think I banged up my thigh. You want
me to take my pants off so you can nurse it back to better, too?” Okay, probably
shouldn’t have taken it that far, but I couldn’t help myself.

She rolls her pretty little eyes. “You
guys going to tell me what happened?”

“The place we dropped off at tonight
was sort of shadier than we expected. We had to drop and dash,” Max grumbles
around a mouthful of cookie dough.