“That’s awesome.” He stands and hugs me. “Proud of you, little dove.”
“Thanks.”
“We should celebrate.”
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Sure, it is.” He glances at his watch. “It’s too early to go out now. You want to head downstairs and see what Alvin’s come up with?”
“I would love that.” I turn toward the door and then hesitate. “Is Jacob going to be there?”
“Don’t know, honestly. Haven’t seen him yet.”
I stand tall, shoulders back, chin up. “Well, I’ll run into him eventually, right?”
“Thank you.” He approaches and grasps both my hands, holding tight. “Trust me, I made it clear how I feel about what he did.”
I huff out a laugh. “I can only imagine what that means.”
Downstairs, Garrett’s on the couch with two girls I don’t recognize and barely glances up when we come in. We find Alvin alone in the bedroom, running his fingers over a portable keyboard
He glances up and a slow smile stretches across his face when he sees us. “Hey, Mallory. Wasn’t sure you’d ever associate with us again.”
“I’ll always make an exception for you, Alvin.”
“I hope you know I had nothing to do with it.” His smile turns into more of a pained expression. “It was a shitty thing to do. I let Jacob know that.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“The tabloid was all bullshit.” Alvin leans toward me. “I was there that night. Chaser left those girls with me, and I walked them outside to meet their parents maybe a half hour later.”
Chaser rests his hand on my back.
“I know it was lies Davey planted.” I reach over and pat Alvin’s leg. “But thank you.”
The guys settle down to play an acoustic song I haven’t heard before. Chaser sings, and, as I always suspected, his voice is the perfect combination of rich and raspy. This performance is different from any other one. I’ve seen glimpses of this Chaser on stage before. He plays the way he makes love. As if every word and note comes from his deep, beautiful, complex soul.
I’m so completely caught up, no—mesmerized, it feels like my world spins away when they stop playing.
“Uh-oh. That bad?” Alvin says.
“No, no! It’s perfect. Beautiful. I thought you didn’t like ballads?”
Chaser shrugs. “It’s something different we’ve been playing around with.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to record it for the new album?”
Alvin shakes his head. “It’s too far from our usual sound. Jacob doesn’t like it.”
“Doesn’t like the sound or doesn’t like Chaser singing?”
“Probably both.” Alvin laughs.
I move closer to Chaser, leaning against him and running my fingers down his arm. “How come you don’t play for me like this?”
“Didn’t think you’d want me to,” he rasps.
“You know I love your sexy voice.”
Alvin clears his throat, reminding us he’s still in the room.
I nod to Chaser’s guitar. “That’s not what you were working on upstairs, though, is it?”
“No,” he grins and taps my nose. “I need to be plugged in for that.”
“You two are so sweet my teeth hurt,” Alvin mumbles. “Was that ‘Queen of the Road’ you were working on before?”
“Yeah, you said you had something for me.”
“Give me a second.” He pauses. “I’m gonna leave you two alone. Can you behave?” Alvin teases.
“Yes, we can—”
Chaser curls his hand behind my legs, cutting off my indignant response. He drags me closer, and I tumble down on top of him.
“Chaser…”
He silences me with a firm, soothing kiss. Shivers dance over my skin as he traces his fingers against the backs of my legs, drawing my long peasant skirt up, up, up.
“How can you be so fucking sexy in a skirt that covers your ankles, woman?”
“Everything turns you on.” I laugh as his rough fingers tickle behind my knees.
“No, everything about you turns me on.”
Someone knocks on the bedroom door and pushes it open before we answer. Garrett sticks his head in the room. “Dude, you have your own apartment. Get out.” He waggles his eyebrows in what I assume is his sly way to let us know he needs the bedroom for carnal purposes.
Sure enough, two girls giggle behind him.
Chaser places his guitar in its case and takes my hand. “We’re leaving, ya perv.”
The door opens wider, revealing Jacob standing behind the two girls. “Don’t act like you’ve never done the same thing, Chaser.”
Chaser growls, and Jacob glances at me. “Whoops. Didn’t see you there, Mallory.”
My cheeks flare hot when our eyes meet, and I quickly look away. Why should I be embarrassed about the situation Jacob caused in England? But for some reason, I can’t stop the reaction. Why can’t my body react by kneeing him in the groin instead?
“We’ll get out of your hair.” Chaser’s gruff tone nixes any other conversation.
As we pass, Jacob reaches out, wrapping his fingers around my arm to stop me. I shake off his touch, and he holds his hands in the air. “Hey, I’m sorry about what happened over there,” he says in a low voice, not meant to be overheard.
Chaser moves in behind me, curling an arm around my waist.
“I misjudged you. You’re nothing like them.” Jacob jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the girls who just entered the bedroom. “So, I’m sorry about that.”
Despite his dilated pupils and non-stop jittering, his words seem sincere.
“Thank you, Jacob.” I won’t tell him it’s okay or let him off the hook completely, but I accept his apology.
Chaser squeezes my hip, offering his support or thanking me for making an effort to get along with his bandmate. I’m not sure.
Jacob glances up, nods at Chaser, then shoves the bedroom door open, letting it swing halfway closed behind him.
“Well,” I say, taking a second to absorb the interaction, “I never expected an apology from him.”
“It’s the least he should do,” Chaser grumbles.
“I’m willing to let it go.” I’ll still never fully trust Jacob. But I refuse to be the reason for any tension within the band.
Tucked into the corner of the living room, Alvin’s behind his drum kit, tapping out a beat, when we enter the living room. He tips his head back and grins at us. “Let’s rock it, Adams.”
“I’ll be right back.” Chaser kisses my cheek and runs out the door. My gaze follows his legs up the stairs, and my ears pick up his footsteps as he jogs into our apartment, grabs his guitar and probably his amp, before pounding back downstairs.
“All right.” Chaser tosses his notebook on the low coffee table and sets up his gear. “This is what I’ve got.”
Alvin double taps his sticks and beats out a steady rhythm while Chaser’s fingers fly over the strings in a repetitive pattern. Whatever they’re doing is completely infectious, and I find myself moving along with the sound.