I Run to You (42 page)

Chapter 19

Saturday night’s gig was 50 miles away. Brook
and the rest of the group were worn thin before they ever got
there, from a busy week. Thankfully, once they began the set,
adrenaline carried them through. Jordan had dozed on the way there,
taking some teasing from all of them—about moving in with Max, and
sleepless nights. Nevertheless, everyone knew it was from getting
the house finished and nerves about meeting her daughter.

She still gave four of her best performances
ever. Brook noticed some of the crowd from their earlier gigs
wearing T-shirts, chanting Jordan’s name. A lot of them were guys.
It was during a break, when the others were busy gulping water,
resting voices, she watched a man come from the back, and approach
the stage.

“Jordan O’Quinn.”

Brook yelled at Jordan over the noise. Her
back was to them as she replaced a string. Turning, setting the
guitar on a stand, Jordan, met the man at the edge of the stage,
reaching out with one of her fingerless gloved hands, to shake
his.

He withdrew it afterwards, and handed her a
card, a smile on his face. “I’d like you to give me a call. Soon.
Very soon.” Since he was yelling too over the noise, he added only,
“I am legit, you can check me out.” then gestured toward the
card.

After he left, melded into the crowd, Jordan
looked at the card. Brook and Renee came to glance over her
shoulder. Brook read it and then met Renee’s smile with her own.
Jordan looked dazed and confused.

Renee said in Jordan’s ear, “It’s the big
time baby!” Giving her a thumbs up.

When she finally looked around, Jordan said,
“But the band—”

Brook laughed. “The Coburns always have a
band. And as much as we love you, as great as you make the rest of
us look, we’ll kick your ass if you don’t take this and run with
it.”

When she just kept standing there, Brook took
the card and put in the pocket of her guitar case. The other girls
came to pat her on the back, hug her, but Jordan was still trying
to process it.

The end of the last set, Brook saw Max
arrive. Most the Coburns were busy, and he had stayed home, to work
on the house. He hated missing seeing Jordan play, she knew.
Nevertheless, needed to have things ready for Leigh.

Somewhere amid applause and autographs, she
took off the bass strap and went to her brother, pulling him down
so she could give him the news in his ear.

Max was smiling proudly before she finished.
Brook and the others watched him go through the crowd of fans and
pick Jordan up. He whirled her around and kissed her senseless.

Jumping up on the stage afterwards, he
grabbed a mic and pointed to her, “Jordan O’Quinn is going to be
famous! My kick ass rocking fiancée, I love you.”

The crowd went wild.

Jordan was red in the face. But, Brook
noticed she went to him and buried that face, against his
chest.

Hooking her arm around Renee, while they
coaxed someone to load their guitars, Brook walked out with
her.

In the parking lot she said, “We knew that,
didn’t we?”

Renee laughed. “Yep.”

“It’s awesooooome!” Donna yelled behind them,
raising her fist in the air.

Brook and Renee waited for her and Alley,
both laughing like idiots too.

“God. That’s like, totally mind blowing.”
Alley shook her head.

“I’ll bet she’ll get some good sex to—night,”
Renee teased.

“Hell, I want good sex. And it wasn’t even me
who got the offer.”

Brook laughed at Donna saying that.

They hung around Renee’s car, carrying on
like that. When Max walked out with his arm around Jordan, the
Coburn women were as bad as their male counterparts; calling out,
whooping, telling Max he’d better celebrate her good, until he
couldn’t move.

Having been dropped off by one of the family,
Max stood by the Harley, grinning and holding the helmet he’d
finally bought. He yelled back while Jordan lit a smoke, “Yeah. I
would buy you fine ladies drinks at the Tavern. But I think a
bottle of expensive wine, and me, is what my lady wants.”

“Yeeewwww.” Donna called back. “Jordan, baby.
We’ll go out and party in your honor.”

Chuckling, Jordan blew a stream of smoke,
shaking her head at them before calling back, “Brook, you’d better
be the designated driver. I’ve seen Donna cut loose, she drank six
tequilas at Rafe’s one night, and started dirty dancing with the
daily special sign.”

“Oh. God. I will.” Brook waved at them. “Go
crazy you two. Jordan, I love you. You bad ass biker bitch.”

“Ohhh…. Brook said a bad word.” Renee teased
as they piled in her car. “I’m tellin’ Madeline.”

In a high mood, as they headed for the Tavern
to celebrate, Donna said in the back seat, “Brook don’t say them
dirty words. Does she Ren?”

“Nope. Brook’s a good girl.”

“All right y’all.” Brook laughed at their
teasing. “If this is the way y’all are sober, I’m going to wait
till you’re drunk, to knock every one of you out, before I drive
you home.”

Alley snorted. “I say we call G.W. to meet
us. That way, we can all get plastered—he can carry two of us under
each arm.”

They did have G.W. meet them, Renee called
him. Sure to tell him to spread the word about Jordan too.

When they pulled in at the Tavern, Brook
locked arms with them and they went inside. Heedless of the way
they looked in their leather pants and lace shirts, spike heel
boots. Nick was grinning as he spotted them while pouring
drinks.

He called out, “They’re ready in the back,
ladies—this round’s free—for Jordan.”

Brook saw him wink at G.W. When the girls
loosed their hold, she looked over her shoulder at the bib overall
clad Coburn, and said, “You can’t tell Mom, if I get shit
faced.”

He laughed. “I might not. But—” He held up
his cell. “I am taking pictures.”

She was swept through the door, lights
swirling, music throbbing— and Ashley waiting at the bar.

“On the house!” Ashley lifted the bottle.
“Get over here ladies. Let’s have the first one for Jordan
O’Quinn!”

She poured the shot glasses.

They tipped them back with, “For Jordan!”
which was the beginning of too many more that Brook lost count
of.

They laughed. They danced, and partied. Brook
guffawed so hard at Donna and Alley’s snarky humor and Renee’s
teasing, she hurt worse than when her ribs were cracked.

They did shots. Ashley poured them, toasting
the band, each other, anything; one of them came up with.

Sweating, having a great time, Brook did not
see Coy arrive and lean against the wall, amused watching them.

She was at that euphoric high when, after
dancing with Renee, she blinkingly watched her friend sway, and
afterwards— hit the floor.

It was Sunny—who came from somewhere, Brook
knew not where. He laughingly picked Renee up, and carried her
out.

Donna was dancing with a good-looking guy who
seemed to be enjoying himself. Alley pulled Brook out again, for
another dance.

It was only G.W.’s cell phone photos that
made Brook believe what happened next.

According to what she’d hear that Sunday at
Madeline’s—after 8 more drinks, Coy had thought she was falling off
the stool —and rushed over to catch her. Instead, she had more or
less grabbed him, bent him over the bar, and peeled his shirt
off.

There was salt and limes, some slow, hot,
licking of his ridged stomach and chest—far beyond the salt and
limes involved

Brook did have some hazy recollection of
those jasper eyes and his too sexy grin. Somewhere in the filling
another glass she grabbed the first thing to hold onto—Coy—and her
knees buckled. Someone turned out the lights.

~*~

G.W. was in his element at Mitch’s next day,
having a great time with Brook, who sipped black coffee, popped
aspirin and groaned, lying on the shaded picnic table.

She rose up at one point and muttered, “I’ll
pay you 1000 bucks for that damn phone.”

He crowed. “No way, baby girl.”

Groaning again, she threw her arm over her
eyes—threatening to kill someone—who waved a hot dog under her nose
that Madeline sent out.

Sometime after jumping up, heading toward the
woods, to puke. She heard Madeline scolding those on the porch
laughing at her. Shuddering, Brook realized too, why she had never
gotten drunk, never been a mixed drinker or the hard stuff. Lite
beer, she vowed—if— she ever drank anything again.

She got off her knees, musing Donna, Renee,
and Alley had the good sense to stay home in bed—and away from the
family.

“Here”

Brook looked up, seeing Coy holding a chilled
bottle of water.

She took it, uncapped the lid, and said, “Go
away.” Before she rinsed her mouth, then drank half.

“Come on, hot shot.” He reached and scooped
her up. “You need to find somewhere and lay down.”

Arm looped over his shoulder, she was too
nauseated to protest. “I’m going to kill G.W. for that nick name.
In fact—he’s not my favorite anymore.”

Laughing, Coy supplied, “You’re close enough
to being a Coburn. This is what you get for it. Look at this way,
being the good one, isn’t half as fun, as being one of the wild
ones.”

“I’m not wild.” Brook moaned and held the
bottle to one closed eyelid. “I’m just….not a very… good
drinker.”

“Shit.” Coy laughed as he carried her around
back and into the house. “You drank more than 6 Coburns and stayed
on your feet longer. G.W. counted.”

“Jesus.” She sighed as he took her into the
spare room and laid her on the cool quilt. The shades were drawn.
The room was a cool green. “How pissed is Mom?”

“She’s not.” He sat by her hip and pushed her
bangs back. “She’d like to baby you though, and Mitch won’t let
her. Hey, chill out. Their just being family.” He added amused,
“You’re their sweet bread, as opposed to cornbread. They’re all
getting a kick out of this.”

“I noticed.”

“You want a wet cloth?”

“Yes. Please.” She held her hands over her
eyes until he replaced it with the cloth.

“I’d kiss you, since you can’t see me
coming—but you just puked.”

She kicked him with her bare foot. “I
wouldn’t let you anyway.”

Chuckling, Coy told her, “Sleep it off,
Logan. You’re a funny drunk, but meeeeaaan when you’re hung
over.”

Brook rested her palms on her heaving
stomach. “You’re enjoying this too.”

Silence a moment, and then he husked, “Oh,
no. baby. I enjoyed it last night. What do you think the men
noticed below the waist—and were ragging me about in those—Brook
doing shots off Coy over the bar, pictures?”

By the time, the door clicked Brook had the
cloth over her now flushed face.

~*~

Max was lounging on the floor, his back
against the sofa as he clicked a few frames of Jordan sipping her
coffee.

She sat on their makeshift floor/bed, his
unbuttoned shirt having slipped down off her shoulders, legs Indian
fashion, and her profile slightly to him.

She indulged him for a time, and it was
through the lens he saw her turn and look at him. Her green eyes
were clear and readable, her much kissed lips a little puffed and
sexy.

He slowly lowered the camera and set it
beside him, then arose and padded over to join her.

On his knees behind her, he took the cup from
her hand. He peeled the shirt down her arms, his lips tasting the
skin on her nape, across her shoulders when they were bared. When
she rose to her knees and let it slip off her wrists, he eyed her
fine ass and dimpled spine.

Max reached out, fingertips tracing the
phoenix on her spine. He felt half of him melt, the other half
catch fire while she was looking over her shoulder at him, her
expression one he doubted even the camera could capture.

His other hand caught under her chin. He
stretched forward to kiss her. Drawing back again, his breathing
deepened. She moved her back against his chest, close. Hands now
covering her breasts, he began a sting of erotic kisses and
caresses, the initiations of lovemaking. Her hand reached back,
over her shoulders, to sift through his hair, and then one slid
below, grasping his thigh. Her body gracefully arched and sensually
ground against him.

The time of day, the bright sun outside,
anything beyond the two of them faded back. Her breath thickened,
her seeking body, moving sensually. Max reached, cupped her sex,
massaging and stroked, until she flowed with sweet arousal. There
was a cadence, a rhythm, his heart and breath in sync—his skin
inside out. Everything that touched her was alive and
sensitive.

The scent of her, the sound of her sighs and
breath catching filled his head. His body was hungry to be inside
her. His palms shaped the side of her hips, her waist, back down
again.

Her head came back, to rest on his shoulder,
both her hands down, grasping his thighs, and her whispered, “Take
me again.” Went through him like hot rain.

Max wrapped his arm around her and elevated
her, using his free hand to work his trousers down his thighs,
groaning when his distended sex brushed her buttocks.

She moved with him as he leaned forward;
keeping her under him, on her hands and knees eager for the moment,
he began sinking himself into the incredible soft, slick, core of
her.

He held her hips, hearing her soft excited
sounds, sinking deeper, filling her, his own murmurs tight and
tense as the walls of her sex rippled and flexed, sending pleasure
so intense through him, he had flashes of last night’s lovemaking
warping through his head. The first— fast, hot, ravenous. The
second— deep, slow—filled with whispered words, tender ones, that
soothed her though her weeping. She had been awed, unable to hide
it, and he’d felt humbled by her reaction.