Strung Out (Needles and Pins #1) (62 page)

“No. Pretty,” he replied, and his smile lifted again. “I wonder if Gage is going to bust a song out?”

Thinking of Gage had her body subconsciously pulling back. “That was random.”

“Not really.” His fingers slid down her cheek as his hand fell away.

And then she remembered. If Gage didn’t produce a song by their studio session, he could be on his way to being out of the band or the band as a whole could be cut from the label. There was enough hanging in the balance already without whatever friction would be caused if Colt and she had a fling.

Leave it to Colt to muse aloud the possible repercussions of a kiss they were still in the middle of.

‘…if you want your band to stay together, you need to get her out of here… And if you’ve already fucked her, then get ready for the fallout!’

She laughed. A sarcastic tinkle of sound that bounced around the interior and off the glass.

He frowned, almost glared. “What?”

“You make it so easy.”

“What easy?”

“Just when I feel like I’m about to do something stupid with you, you open your mouth, and I remember why I don’t.”

His mouth opened but it was a silent gape, and then she saw the dawning on his shadowy features. “No… No! Do something stupid!” His eyes were alight, glimmering in what little light spilled from the windows of his home and the landscaping. “Let’s do something stupid!”

The playfulness on his fine face was hard to resist. She must have smiled, because he curved one in reaction to reading her face and exclaimed, “See? See!” He invaded her space again, tilting his head to hers. “We could have fun, Scarla. We could have so much fun.”

His lips covered hers on the last word, and she surrendered for the time.

I don’t want to want him but I want him.

Like Gage, yet so different. She didn’t want to want to want the boy who’d been her brother. But she could no longer resist her impulses when it came to him.

Wait, why was Gage in her head?

And Colt. He could anger her with words one second and have her clinging to him during a kiss the next?

Oh, momma. I understand your addiction to musicians…

Heaven help me. I have no hope of escaping that gene… Double whammy… Whammy bar… Pun… Obviously delirious…

They kissed in all the delicious ways they had a moment ago. This time, her fingers curled into her seat because she refused to let them travel his skin or comb through his hair.

When she noticed the brightness of the interior, she had no idea how long the car lights had been behind them. A vehicle had rolled through the gate and was idling behind them, but now it passed by, taking a spot up ahead on the drive.

“Must be here for the kid…” He stole another kiss, and lingered a breath from her lips. “Wear your tiniest bikini—or nothing at all—and meet me in the little pool…” He swiped his tongue over her lips, and she conjured up the smaller pool on the lower level—out of sight of the house. “In an hour…” Another languorous kiss. “…if you want to get stupid with me.”

She giggled at the way he said the last part—yes, giggled like a twelve year old—and he laughed too as he brushed his lips to hers.

The rap on the window behind him made her jump out of her skin. The shadow blocking out any glow of lighting on that side felt ominous, and she wondered if she still had that old container of pepper spray in her purse.

“You two going to finish this shit up any time soon?”

Gage!

F
uck. A fist formed. He was going to hit him. Drag him from the car and punch the pretty face that kept women creaming their panties. His fingers curled into the door handle, and he jerked, but found it locked.

There was enough light shining through the windshield to make out Scarlette’s wide-eyed stare, mussed hair, and kiss-swollen lips. He’d called it all right. His bandmate had busted a nut getting her here to the privacy of his house the moment opportunity arose.

His fist made contact with the glass again, right as the door swung open. Instead of stepping out of the way, he rounded the obstacle in one quick motion.

“You son of a bitch! I told you to keep off my sister!” His growl was mad-dog feral when he got a look at the other guy’s equally well-kissed mouth. Scarlette had done that—had kissed those lips so thoroughly, they were as puffy as hers were.

His fist was twisted in the front of Colt’s dress shirt when headlights lit the gate from the street side.

Colt surged out of the car and stood at eye level. “Make up your fucking mind. She’s your sister. She’s not your sister. Which is it, asshole?”

“Doesn’t fucking matter. Either way, she’s off limits to you!”

The front door of the house burst open and a lanky boy ascended the pathway to the drive. The kid waved toward them, hollering out a “Thanks, Mr. Powers!” before closing himself inside a nondescript SUV. Red taillights flashed, and the vehicle began to circle about, back toward the gate.

Spotlighted in the headlights, Scarlette, having crawled to the driver’s side, hopped from the Range Rover and rested a restraining hand on Gage’s chest.

The contact tingled through his tee shirt. He looked down, and realizing he still had ahold of Colt, released the other guy’s shirt. As the car neared, they were all bathed in halogen headlights for a few seconds before the hum of the gate joined the crickets chirping and soon after, they were alone in the driveway again.

Scarlette’s touch was still a white-hot brand until she let her hand fall to her side.

“Can we talk?” He wanted to reach out, run his fingers down her hair, but he made a fist to stay the compulsion. “Please?” He implored, willing her eyes to hold his.

At last, she met his gaze head on and then glanced at Colt.

Colt nodded his acknowledgment to them both and strolled toward his house.

“I’m sorry.” The moment he was alone with her, the anger bled away, becoming remorse, and he begged into the blues of her eyes. “I know I said it in the voicemail, and on the phone, but I wanted to say it—to you.”

Her eyes dropped, and she nodded. Scarlette had never been timid all of those years ago. Wary, yes. Distrustful, often. But not fragile. She was all of those things in this moment, and he hated himself for making her feel that way.

“I didn’t want you to go. But I know why you did.” He knew he was still repeating things he’d already said to her phone. What he wanted to do was beg her forgiveness for being a corpse in the shower, and for being stupid enough to risk anything happening again with her in the house.

She stayed quiet, her gaze touching over his face in acceptance of the apology and then skittering away to the landscaping lights and shadows in the yard.

“You said you found Ivy?”

Her eyes swung back. “In a way.” She told him about the sex tape with Bradley Walker. “Apparently, she’s fine. But I want to see her before I leave. Find out why she never answered my messages and is never on Facebook, or Instagram, or anywhere.”

He nodded and hated that she looked miserable and confused. Shifting from one foot to the other, he hesitated and then admitted, “There was a text on my phone from the PI from a couple of days ago—to call him. It got buried under the rest of the texts. I saw it right after I talked to you on the phone tonight. I’m guessing he’d found her too, then. I’m sorry. Another screw up on my part.”

Was she wondering if his being high all the time affected overlooked texts? Her eyes had narrowed, but then regardless of what she’d been thinking, her generous nature conceded, “You do get a shit load of messages. It’s bound to happen.”

“I’m still sorry. I let you down.” He knew he was talking about much more than the missed text.

If she picked up on his deeper meaning, she ignored it. “Colt said you kind of know him―Bradley.”

“I don’t have his contact info or anything. But I think I can get it.”

“Thanks.”

His contemplation was drawn to her grateful slight smile—to the lips Colt had experienced a thorough taste of, and he hadn’t experienced nearly enough.

He wanted to kiss the taste of any other man away, but he took a safe step back, away from the close proximity of the rise and fall of her chest.

“I’ll make some calls first thing tomorrow. When do you have to go back?”

“Soon. Pretty soon now that I know Ivy’s fine.”

He knew she wanted to disappear for the twentieth anniversary week. So while ‘soon’ didn’t surprise him, it still pricked when she seemed anxious to leave L.A.

“Want to come over tomorrow and swim?”

Her lips curved, but he recognized it as the automatic polite face she sometimes used. And then she finished off with her catch phrase for something she had no intention of doing. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“Please. It helps me compose. And we both know I need to pull a song out of my ass.”

This drew a real smile from her. Were the afternoons of floating in the pool while he played guitar sweet memories for her too? He could only wish.

“Okay. I’ll be by.” She dipped her chin in a nod—a surefire ‘you can count on me’ signal. Her fingers dipped into the front pockets of her jeans and she swayed a bit in that sexy way she had.

He took two more steps back and glanced at the Escalade to stay grounded.
Please come home. Get in the car with me and just come home
.

“Promise me something? Before you and him get any farther into this thing, have a look in his studio.”

“What thing? You mean me and Colt? There’s not a thing.”

“Seeya tomorrow, Scar.”

“What’s in his studio?”

Your father. Everywhere
. He forced his feet to keep moving. If he stopped long enough to answer, he would either drag her to the car or fall down on his knees begging her to come with him.

I
t made no sense.

Gage had consistently gone from discouraging anything to do with Colt to throwing her at him. Only that wasn’t right either. In leaving her last night, he hadn’t pushed her to Colt. It seemed more as if he was giving her enough information to make her own decision.

Although she still saw glimpses of him, for the most part, gone was the big brother who had threatened hormonal boys when she’d been a teen. Gage, ‘the new big brother,’ treated her as if he trusted her judgment.

Maybe brother was the wrong word. Maybe that was the logic behind this change. Maybe Gage was no longer treating her in a brotherly way. Maybe the protectiveness came from some other feeling—the same strange and deep feeling she was beginning to feel.

Squinting against the sun, she made her way around the top-level pool, getting splashed one or twice by Seth’s butterfly stroke.

“Hey,” she called out after one of his flip turns. “Your daddy awake?”

“He’s in the kitchen.” The teen stopped and gestured to the French doors before disappearing beneath the water surface in a dolphin-like dive.

She was almost to the windowed entry when one door yawned open, and Colt gestured her inside.

“Morning.” They were simultaneous in their greetings.

Pushing a ‘World’s Best Dad’ coffee mug into her hands, he eyed her and teased. “My midnight swim was lonely.”

She shrugged and offered an apologetic smile as she filled the cup and added sugar. “I was tired.”

He nodded, accepting the answer as easily as he’d made the proposition the night before.

“I like your house.” Her eyes swept from the cozy kitchen they stood in to a great room on the other side of a colorfully tiled bar. In no way did it look like a rich bachelor’s pad in the way that Gage’s did. She wondered if Caroline was responsible for the sheer curtains, fun knick-knacks, and eclectic furnishings. “Think I could get a tour?”

They did a walk through, and she found all the rooms to have the same inviting, lived in feeling as the front two. Seth’s room was a typical teenaged boy mess. Lastly, somehow they finished the tour standing at the foot of Colt’s unmade bed.

“My housekeeper only comes by once a week,” he explained.

“And men can’t be bothered to make beds.”

She took a nervous sip of coffee when he didn’t move out of this room as quickly as he had the others.