Breathe into Me (20 page)

I rolled my eyes and leaned into Everett. “Looks like we have a few more people to cook for this morning.”

He laid a quick kiss to my lips. “I’d love the help.”

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying not to freak out.

The box of hair dye, now empty, that had been sitting in my truck for what felt like forever teetered on the edge of the sink. The model’s hair a gorgeous chestnut, so unlike the new reality of my existence. I’d bleached my hair for years, even before I’d moved to Mississippi, and had grown used to the lighter color on my head. Despite following the instructions on the box to the letter, my hair was several shades darker than the model’s, the fried locks having soaked up the dye like a sponge. I was left with almost-black hair atop my head and down around my shoulders. Some of it would wash out, that much I knew from experience, but that didn’t stop my mini freak-out.

Just seeing my reflection made me want to hyperventilate. The dark mane plastered to my head like a hoodie looked
wrong
. I’d wanted a change, something different to symbolize the life I was leaving behind, but nothing anywhere near this drastic.

Even after two showers, the color didn’t appear to be fading at all. It clung to my face, making my skin seem practically translucent in comparison. The effect was startling, but if I wasn’t being critical, it wasn’t totally horrible.

Well, look on the bright side
, I thought.
At least my eyebrows don’t seem so dark anymore
.

Seriously, small comfort.

I’d decided to do the dye job spontaneously, opening the box and mixing the contents before I’d given myself time to think it through. Now I had little time to get ready for my first official day at my new job. I’d been practicing daily over at the club, but today was to be my first real gig playing before an audience. While I’d grown up doing recitals for my lessons, this felt much more real and daunting.

Having hair that made me look like a Goth chick didn’t help the anxiety.

It had been three days since I’d run out of the club, and it surprised me how quickly life had fallen into a rhythm. I was no longer staying in the guesthouse out back, although I used the piano there to practice on a regular basis. More often than not, the living room served as a crash pad for much of the crew, but they seemed to accept me as another roommate. There were no jokes about my presence, for which I was grateful, but I tried to be useful.

That was a job all in and of itself, cleaning up after a house full of guys, but it had been so long since I’d been this happy in a home. I’d wanted to celebrate the change, so while the dye job was spontaneous, the sentiment wasn’t. It was going to take some serious time to get used to the “new” me, however.

Drying my hair quickly and relaxing somewhat as it lightened ever so slightly, I gathered up my things and opened the bathroom door to see Everett standing outside. I froze, staring at him in shock, as he blinked at me. “I thought you were at work,” I blurted out.

“What happened to your hair?”

All my anxieties rose to the forefront, and with a pained cry I slammed the door in his face. Immediately, he began knocking. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What are you even doing here?” I asked through the door. “I thought you were working today.”

“Boss let us off early. C’mon, Lacey, let me in.”

I chewed my lip for a long moment, and then unlocked the door for Everett. It took him a moment to open it and peek around the frame. “Safe to come in?”

A reluctant smile tugged at my lips as I pulled nervously at my clothing. I thought I was alone in the house so had on only a shirt and pair of panties. I saw the moment he noticed, but to his credit he kept his gaze on my face. “Now,” he said, shutting the door behind him, “let me take a look at the new you.”

Pressing my lips together tightly, I ran my hand through my hair, then did a little pirouette. He wasn’t looking at my hair when I faced him again, and raised his eyes guiltily. The tiny grin on my face widened, and I took a step forward. “Do you like it?” I asked, running my finger along the center of his chest.

His throat worked as his eyes darkened. He reached up and ran the dark strands through his fingers, and I leaned my head into his hand. Everett skimmed his knuckles down my shoulder, my hair gliding through his fingertips. This close, I could smell the sweat and dust on him, but instead of turning me off it just made me want to lean closer. Beneath all that was a scent I associated only with him, one that made me want more.

“I like it,” he murmured, bending his head down beside mine. I thought he was going to kiss my neck, but he only nuzzled my hair. “I like it a lot.” His hands moved around behind me as he pressed forward, curling around the globes of my ass and squeezing. “I like everything about you, no matter the color.”

I wound my arms around his neck, and tilted my head to meet his lips. His kiss was hungry, needy, and the same desire rose quickly inside me. Everett was unlike anyone else I’d dated. Sex with him didn’t make me feel degraded or like I was being used; instead, it was
awesome
. If it weren’t for his job, I doubted we’d leave the bedroom. As it was, I took every minute with him I could get.

He growled against my mouth, then hooked his thumbs under my panties and pulled them down. I trailed my lips down his neck, removing one arm from around his neck and massaging the heel of my hand down his crotch. His sharp intake of breath made my pulse speed up, my own breathing coming faster. He was hard as a rock, and I didn’t protest when he lifted me up and set me atop the granite counter. I pulled at his shirt, suddenly desperate to touch him; he must have felt the same because his hands went to my sides beneath my thin top. Arching against him, I pulled him close to me, desperate to feel his hard body against mine.

I was already wet by the time I felt the blunt tip of his cock probing at my folds. I opened myself wider, and gasped as he surged inside me. His hands grasped my bottom, fingers digging into the soft flesh, while I clung to his shoulders. My cries bounced around the large bathroom, echoed by Everett’s hard panting.

“Lacey,” he murmured, the strained word music to my ears. I laid kisses over his face as he pounded inside me, raking my nails along his torso and down around his taut backside. Everything about him turned me on, and I could feel my climax rushing to the surface. I leaned my head back against the mirror and Everett took full advantage, reaching down my top and pulling out one breast. His tongue teased my nipple, and just like that I was sent over the edge. With a loud cry I came, my body trembling from the release.

“My turn,” he said in a low voice. He picked me up, keeping my legs wrapped around him, and stalked out of the bathroom and onto the bed, pulling off first my shirt, then my bra. There was no finesse in his desire, only raw need as he bore me back, and I reveled in being so desired. His teeth scraped over my breast as he wrapped my legs around his ribs and pushed inside me again. I braced against the headboard to keep from being pounded backward from his thrusts. I could still feel the pleasure of my orgasm coursing through me, and his rough strokes only emphasized the sensations. Soft cries poured from my lips, echoed by Everett’s rough grunts.

“Oh God, I’m…” His teeth dug into my shoulder almost painfully, and with a hard groan he came. I put my arms around his shoulders, reveling in the way his body bucked against mine. Nuzzling the side of his neck, I ran my fingers through his soft hair. Work in the hot southern sun had put some natural highlights in his hair, but it was still about as dark as mine now. “So I take it you like my hair?” I murmured as he laid atop me.

“I like
you
,” he said, laying a kiss on my temple. “But yes, your hair is nice, too.”

“Just nice?” I raised my eyebrows. “All that just for
nice
?”

“Do I need to prove again how much I like it?” he growled, pinning my hands to the pillow beside my head.

I giggled, sliding my knee along his side. “You sure you’re up for more?” I teased, then my humor faded at the intense look he gave me.

“There’s more than one way to prove how sexy I find you.” It was his turn to grin wickedly as his lips trailed down my breastbone and over my belly. I was already trembling as he set my legs over his shoulders, then he parted the folds and dipped his head down.

I was almost late for work, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

* * *

The playlist was the same songs I’d been practicing, but I was still nervous when I first walked out to the piano.

Growing up, I’d had my fair share of recitals where I’d played for large audiences, but I knew within five minutes that this was different. Whereas with a recital the player was the center of attention, here I faded into the background. Very few people looked my way; I’d get the occasional glance as people walked in through the door, but for the most part I was left to my own devices.

That suited me just fine.

The piano was a good one, and my fingers danced across the keys. Muscle memory only took me so far, so I was glad I’d been practicing as much as I could the last several days. The club itself wasn’t nearly as formal as I’d imagined, although I did see some older patrons come in like they’d stepped off the TV set of
Dynasty
. For the most part, people were in shorts and looked casual, which made sense with the heat spell. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it was a surprisingly pleasant atmosphere.

I wore a simple black dress I’d picked up for relatively cheap, a belt, and some heels. It wasn’t my job to stand out but to blend in, and I did that well. It allowed me the chance to watch people as my fingers flew over the keys, and a few I recognized. The gentleman with the loud belly laugh near the window played Santa Claus during the holidays, and the older couple in the corner had watched my impromptu piano audition.

“Why don’t you take a short break?”

I finished the song and looked up to see Drew next to the piano. “That would be nice,” I said, smiling and standing. “Where’s the break room?”

“Go ahead and get a drink at the bar, it’s pretty quiet right now. I’ve had a couple people ask about you already, wondering if you’re available for hire at other functions. Would you mind if I passed along your phone number to them, or would you rather they asked in person?”

I tried not to let my excitement show, but it was hard. “Go ahead and give them my number,” I said, and Drew matched my smile.

“You’re definitely a better player than our last girl, and people have noticed. Now go take your break, these folks can take some canned music for a little while.”

I headed over to the bar and sat down next to a girl about my age. She was dressed as fashionable as anyone I’d seen in my little town. A large Louis Vuitton purse sat at her feet, and she had on a tweed jacket that looked too warm for the summer heat. She was skinny with dark hair that only accentuated her pale skin, and reminded me of the mean girls I’d gone to school with. When she looked over at me, however, I saw only curiosity on her face.

“You’re the piano player?” At my nod, she tipped her head toward my instrument. “You play really well.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. Her mouth curved up in what could only be called a Mona Lisa smile, difficult to read. I wasn’t getting any cruel condescension from her, just a polished diffidence that was designed to keep people away. She was talking to me, however, and it would have been rude not to respond.

“How long have you been playing?”

“Since I was a kid. I had a long break there for a while, life got kind of rough.”

Her lips twisted ruefully. “It does that a lot, doesn’t it?”

I hadn’t meant to make her sad, and struggled to repair the damage. “Do you play music?”

She shook her head. “I never really had the knack for tunes.”

“So what do you like to do?”

“Travel … and shop.”

She seemed embarrassed by her admonition, as if not knowing an actual skill was something to be ashamed about. “Well, if it’s any consolation,” I said, indicating her clothes, “you’re really good at the shopping part.” Her clothing was the epitome of style, not the casual elegance I saw with the locals. It made the girl stand apart, although something told me that wasn’t deliberate on her part.

“It’s what I wanted to go to school for,” she said, tugging on the jacket around her shoulders. “I always loved fashion and design; I thought it would be incredible to do it myself.”

I frowned. “‘Wanted’? Why the past tense?”

Her mouth opened and closed, and she looked at me curiously. Finally, she held out her hand. “I’m Skye.”

“Lacey,” I said, shaking her hand, then waved my finger around. “Are you from around here?”

“Mostly just visiting.”

“You like it?”

She seemed at a loss for words, as if not quite sure what to say to my question. Finally, Skye smiled, a real one this time. “It’s nice. Very different from what I’m used to though.”

I nodded emphatically, returning her smile. “I moved here from Oregon a few years ago. Believe me, it was a tough change.”

Her smile widened as if she’d found a kindred spirit. “Where are you living now?”

“I’m here in Oyster Cove, although I recently moved out of my grandmother’s home.” That was certainly one way of putting it. “Do you know the Plymouth plantation house down near the water?”

“I do, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, a friend is letting me stay there until I can get back on my feet again. I guess it had been vacant for a while.” I held back the information as to who and why, not wanting to get Everett into trouble.

Skye’s smile froze, and she looked down at her drink. “Oh, so someone is living there again?” When I nodded, she gave a faint sigh. “It’s a really beautiful house.”

“Yeah, I envy whoever got to live there. Can’t imagine why they’d leave it empty for so long.”

The bartender handed me my drink but I stayed in my seat, curious about the girl. I got the feeling she was holding something back, but I didn’t know her well enough to press for details. Despite the country club setting, something about the girl was different from the people surrounding us. She was sitting alone at the bar, a fish out of water, and that was a feeling to which I could relate. “How long are you going to be in town?”