A Bleu Streak Christmas (9 page)

Hot dang!

My fingers play through the slightly
faded blue streak tucked in all that fair hair as she keeps cooking. I’m stoked
she allows me these indulgent touches.

“Whatcha makin’ us?”

“Individual Mexican lasagnas.”

My hand stills. “Come again?”

She points to the small tin dishes
lined on the counter. “It’s basically enchiladas flattened out in layers.”

“Mmm… Hope you’re making extras. I
could probably polish off three of them myself. Max probably can, too.”

“Don’t worry. There’s going to be
plenty and I’ll take care of Max.”

The late lunch doesn’t get here fast
enough. We are all seated at the long hefty table with Izzy personally serving
us. She insisted, so we are all just sitting here uncomfortably with her
waiting on us.
 
She even asked to sit
between me and Max, so I guess she’s over being ticked at him, and maybe she’s
already forgotten we tend to swipe everyone’s food. She finally sits down and I
can’t help but place a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Izzy, thanks for taking such good care
of all of us,” Dillon says, producing all his dang dimples in the process and
evoking the pink to her cheeks. I shoot him a look and he has enough gall to wink
at me. He leads us in prayer, and then we all dig in.

Everyone moans their approval. Max
louder than the rest of us.

“Wow. This is… um… kinda spicy,” Max
says around a mouthful of food.

“Is not, you wimp,” Logan says with his
own mouthful. “Just right, little lady.” He offers her a grin.

I’m halfway through the dish when I
hear Max panting. I look over and find the dude’s face flushed, and he’s
actually sweating. We’ve all stopped eating and are watching him
curiously.
 

Max drops his fork and chugs both his
and Izzy’s water. “What’s in this?” He’s huffing now. It reminds me of a woman
in labor with those dramatic breaths. It’s almost a perfect mimic of Jewels
when she was in labor with Grace.

I’m pure dumbfounded. It’s barely
spicy… Then it clicks what she said earlier about taking care of Max.

Izzy keeps nibbling at her food as she
answers him nonchalantly, “It’s never wise to prank the person responsible for
feeding you.”

“What did you put in my food?” He
gurgles around Logan’s glass of water. The guy’s chest is heaving like crazy
and water is dribbling down his face. Oh wow. The skin around his mouth is a
wild shade of red.

“Ghost pepper.”

We all roar in laughter.

“Devil woman!” Max looks delirious—eyes
bugged out, chest heaving.

And Izzy is my hero. Chick hasn’t
stopped eating. “Milk will help,” she says before taking a casual bite.

Before she says anything else, Max
bolts to the kitchen, overturning his chair with a loud bang in the process. We
all stay put, eating and laughing while listening to him moan and groan.

“Izzy, I guarantee you just took care
of that idiot ever wanting to tangle with you again,” Trace says, laughing
uncontrollably with the rest of us.

“He needed to be taught a lesson!” Tate
laughs.

Max comes barreling back through.

“You played with fire this time, bro.
And you got burned!” Dillon yells in a roar of laughter.

We are practically rolling in the
floor, while Izzy calmly refills her and Logan’s glasses. Woman is earning all
kinds of respect right now. This is epic on the prank meter and she’s so cool
about it, which makes it even more hilarious.

“It ain’t funny!” Max screeches as he
flails around in pain. “It still burns!” He’s running ice cubes around his
puffy lips while doing some kind of painful dance around the dining room.

“Just give it some time. It’ll
eventually cool down.” Izzy smiles so sweetly at him, it’s evil.

Half the table is in tears, including
my idiot brother, but I’m guessing his aren’t from amusement.

“Blake, you ready?” Izzy asks him as
she stands. My laughing ceases.

“Where y’all going?” I give Blake a
stern look, but the wimp looks away quickly.

“Tate’s list for gifts. Blake
volunteered to help,” she answers, grabbing up her bag.

Blake looks too smug for his own good.
I wish I had slipped him some of Max’s dish. They’re out the door before I can
figure out how to stop them. Dang it.

The rest of the crowd is still
enthralled with Max wailing around the room, chomping ice like it’s his
salvation. From the looks of it, seems like it’s not helping.

“Best prank ever!” Jewels giggles as
she discreetly tosses Max’s potent, unfinished lunch.

Chapter
Ten

I
zzy

The
ferocious beat of the drums, blending with the thumps of other instruments’
sounds, pulsates through my entire body. Every cell is buzzing with the music
as I stand on the side of the stage and take in the performance. Tonight makes
a total of nine concerts so far, and the effect on me still hasn’t faded, even
in the slightest. I’ve never felt so alive, nor have I ever felt more belonging.
This band is so much more than that. They are a family with the most compassionate
hearts.

The song concludes with the audience
cheering at an incredible volume.

“We’ve got some business to address
here tonight. Tennessee won’t mind, will ya?” Dillon murmurs into the mic. Of
course the crowd reaches fever pitch again.

Tate taps me on the shoulder, stealing
my attention away from the stage. He’s got a phone to his ear, and I have no
clue how he can hear the person on the other end of it over the wild volume in
this place.

“Take this stool out to the center
stage.” He points at it, but I do not comprehend.

Me? On stage? No way!
My head vehemently shakes with my denial of the task.

“Now. We’ve got to keep on schedule.”

“But—”

Tate points at the stool and swiftly
walks away. Great! There’s no choice but do as I’m told. I lug it out a few
steps and try waving Max over to get it, but he won’t look my way. I holler for
him and I know he hears me. Guess he’s still a little bitter over the whole
ghost pepper stunt.

Taking a deep breath, I scurry out to
center stage and am struck dumb at what I find. Dillon and Mave have switched
spots. Never have I seen Mave up front, which strikes me as odd. I set the
stool down and turn quickly on my heels to escape.

No such luck. A warm hand stops me. I
have a bad feeling…

“We’ve got a new member to join the
Bleu Streak family, and we need to give her a proper welcome tonight.” Mave
spins me around in a sort of dance before draping his arm around my shoulders,
pulling me close into his sweaty body. The dark T-shirt he’s wearing is wearing
him oh so nicely. It’s plastered to him in such an appealing way. “Let’s give
it up for Miss Izzy Walker!”

“Please let me go,” I say, close as I
can get to his ear while the crowd shouts and claps.

He leans down to my ear. “Grace is in
the front row. Do this for her. Show her it’s not scary.”

I can’t even look to the front row for
fear of passing out. “It
is
scary.”

He acts as though he didn’t hear me.
What’s with these Bleu Streak guys and their selective hearing tonight? He
picks me up and sets me down on the stool. I’m about to squirm back down, but
he stops me.

“Please.” Tears begin swimming in my
vision.

Mave cups my face so that I have no
choice but to meet his dark eyes. “Just focus on me.”

Even though I’m about to shatter into
pieces from panic, one determined look from him brings me back together. It’s
only been a little over a week since meeting this man, but the moment our eyes
connected that first day on the plane, the beat of my heart wavered to a new
rhythm and has yet to return to normal.

A stagehand offers Mave a tambourine. He
doesn’t look away from me for a second as he accepts it. With only the first
taps of the tambourine on his hip, the song is obvious. Recognition must be
evident on my face, because his breaks out in a gorgeous grin before bringing
the mic to his lips. This man is going to sing “Brown Eyed Girl” and I can’t
help but swoon. Oh my goodness!

“Hey, look where we’ve gone,” he
begins, changing the lyrics to make it his own. “Days when the band came, so
glad you decided to follow…”

I get lost in his smooth voice for the
first time. It’s rich in a tone unique to him and it sends goose bumps all over
me. This man is some kind of talented. I’ve never heard him sing lead, but he
could totally own the spot.

As the guys join in with, “Sha, la, la,
la, la,” Mave takes to tapping the tambourine against my hip playfully to the
rhythm of the song. The audience fades away, leaving me in a world of the
music. It’s mesmerizing with Dillon going to town on the drums and Mave
crooning out, “You’re mine. All mine, brown eyed doll.”

Maybe I’m too caught up in the magical
moment, but I can almost swear the guy isn’t performing this song—more like
he’s declaring me his to the world. Wow, does it feel so much more than that.
He keeps emphasizing
my
and
mine
with a look that gives no doubt
about it.

“And whatever happens, to us and this
show. Never forget pepper man with the persistent vertigo.”

Laughter bubbles out of me at these
lyrics. No. I will never forget. The pranks, the performances, the generosity,
and the friendship I’ve found in such a short time have become a permanent part
of me. As he sings about how I’ve grown, I can only agree—this unexpected
moment in time has been life-altering in only the best of ways.
 

They conclude with, “
Sha la la, la la, la
la, la la, l-la te da.”

The
crowd is back to cheering uncontrollably, beckoning me back to the world beyond
this stage and this man. Before I can climb down and run, Mave pulls me to him
and places a kiss on my cheek. He does this all the time with Jewels and Grace,
but I can’t help but feel special and set apart when he lingers longer with me.
It’s an innocent kiss, but it sure does feel like the real welcome.

Releasing
me, Mave turns his attention back to the fans. “Our brown eyed doll, Izzy!” They
hoot and holler me all the way off stage.

“I’m
itching to shred some drums. How ‘bout we get Will out here to help me out.”

They
go berserk! It’s evident that Will Bleu already has a substantial fan
following. It’s also not slipped my notice that Mave is quick to move the
spotlight off himself.

I
steal a quick glance in Max’s direction and find him grinning at me. I stick my
tongue out at him before passing him. Tate is also grinning by the edge of the
stage, giving away the fact that he was in on this little stunt.

Whether
it’s the effect of Maverick King serenading me unexpectedly or just the
atmosphere tonight, my skin has been tingling from the energy of it all night.
The miles hum by as I lay in my bunk, reliving the serenade and that closing
song. Wow. Just wow.

With
the lights dimmed, Dillon pulled a stool out to the center of the stage and
began singing an a cappella rendition of a variety of Christmas carols. His deep,
velvety voice quietly sang, “Silent Night,” as Trace walked out with his own
stool and joined his voice effortlessly with Dillon’s. As they eased the song
into “What Child is This,” Logan added his stool and voice to mix. Both twins
had joined the stage by the time the performance moved into “Angels We Have
Heard on High.” It was the most breathtaking mix of the carols I have ever been
blessed to hear. I’m not so sure if angels straight from heaven could sing it
any sweeter. Their voices weaved seamlessly in and out of one another’s on a
melody so magnificent it sent wave after wave of goose bumps along my skin.

I
rub my hands over the ever-present rise on my skin now as I keep replaying it
all. And the conclusion was such a beautiful experience. One by one, their
voices slowly muted as they picked up their stools and exited the stage,
leaving Dillon to finish with “Come all Ye Faithful.” These men just blow me
away with their talent.

The
rustling of paper from my neighbor’s bunk grabs my attention. Mave writes at
night and I’m reluctant to interrupt, but there’s no way sleep will find me
while being so keyed up. Easing out of the bunk, I scoot over and knock on the
side of the bunk. The papers still as that handsome man peeps out of the
curtain, wearing nothing more than one gorgeous grin and dark lounge pants.
It’s enough to send me back to my bunk, but he catches my hand and pulls me
inside his bunk cubby before I can escape.

“Doll,
you reached out to see me. No way am I letting you run,” he whispers. “What’s
up?”

Readjusting
so that I’m sitting and slightly leaning on his leg, I say, “I can’t sleep
and…” I eye his tattoos, remembering Jewels asking him for a story. I wonder if
we know each other enough for me to ask this of him. It seems the man has one
interesting story inked, chapter per chapter, along his body.
 

He
understands what I want, but am too reluctant to ask. “Which one?”

My
eyes automatically go the eagle, but he folds his arm and places it behind his
head, making it clear that one is still off limits. I scan the other arm, but
then my eyes land on the ace of diamonds on his ribcage. It’s the only one on
his torso, so it must hold a weighty significance. The words inked on the
tattered banners running across it are evidence enough of that fact. The top
banner states,
Every Saint has a Past
,
and the bottom banner states,
Every Sinner
has a Future
.

“This
one please,” I whisper, as my fingers glide over the brilliant art.

I’m
about to pull my hand away, but Mave captures it and keeps it pressed over the
tattoo.

“This
is a promise I made to Dillon and God. Dillon used to sing a cover of Eddie
Veddar’s “Rise” declaring it my theme song. It’s about overcoming your past. One
of the lyrics talks about throwing my ace in the hole. Do you know what that
means?”

I
shake my head.

“To
throw your ace in the hole means to hold something significant in reserve as a
hidden advantage. My ace in the hole was my second chance God granted me.
Dillon said I needed to throw it down and claim the life I’ve been blessed
with. Own up to all the mistakes, but then move on from them. And just as the
words state...” He pauses to run my fingertip along the letters. “My past
doesn’t have to define me.”

Blinking
back tears that his conviction provoked, I look up and say, “You’ve most
certainly thrown your ace in the hole. Maverick King, you are eat up with blessings
in the form of a gigantic heart and amazing talent. Seriously, how have you not
been scooped up by another label for a solo act? Your voice is magnificent.”
I’m sort of kidding around about the part of a solo act, but Mave’s firm gaze
says a whole lot on the subject.

He
releases my hand and begins sliding the edge of his pants down and I come close
to jumping out of my skin.

“Another
tattoo I want to show you,” he reassures me.

Thank
goodness that tattoo is on his nicely defined upper hip. If those pants went
down any farther, I would have fallen out on the spot. My eyes land on a
masculine script of Ecclesiastes 4:9-10.

“Each
of us in the band has the same tatt in the same spot. Even Jewels has it to
remind her we can’t do it without her by our side. Do you know the verse?”

“Probably,
but I can’t recall it.”

“
Two
are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. For if
they fall, the one will lift up his fellow, but woe to him that is alone when
he falleth, for he hath not another to help him up.”

That’s all he has to say and I’d get
it. There will never be a time for any of them to go on their own.

“We’re a package deal. They are my
brothers and we’ve sworn to never leave one another’s side. There was a time
the guys could have been done with me and I wouldn’t have blamed them, but they
wouldn’t. Dillon promised to never leave me, if I promised to get better.”

“Were you sick?”

“In a sense. Got caught up with drugs.
Stupid part of my past, and for tonight, I’d rather leave it there.”

His voice holds all kinds of regret,
and I hate that I dragged that up. I ease over and place a kiss on his cheek to
help push it away. The warmth of his stubbly skin is a place I’ve grown
attached to visiting and I have to forcefully leave it.

“Thank you for tonight.” I smile and
look into his hooded eyes, and they are just the dreamiest pair of eyes…

“Doll, you’ve got the sweetest of
kisses.” He returns the favor to my cheek, sending my entire body back up in
flames while at the same time shivers evoke from me. This must encourage him,
because those lips go to exploring my jaw and onto my neck. I can barely
breathe by the time he reaches my earlobe.

“If
this is how good we are together by mere kisses to the cheek, baby, can you
imagine how delicious it’s going to be when you allow me a taste of those lips?”
His voice is raspy with a challenging edge to it.

I
don’t know if I’m ready to go anywhere near taste-testing those provocative
lips. It’s downright scary in the most alluring way. He knows this too and
abandons his hold on me—leaving an instant longing in his place.

“Good
night,” I whisper, sitting up and sliding out of his bunk.