Pretty Instinct (26 page)

“Conner slammed her into the door when he ran by, hurt her back,” Rhett explains.

“Lemme see.” He pushes Rhett’s hand out of the way to survey it himself. “You need an ice pack, love?” he asks against my skin, where he kisses the, I’m assuming, either red or already black and blue spot.

“I’m fine, let’s get out there before he just takes him,” I grumble, walking past them both.

“Elizabeth,” my father, standing
in my bus
, greets me.

I ignore him and move straight to hug Alma, another mystery—wonderful person—who for some reason stays with him. “Alma,” I hug her, tearing up despite myself, “how are you?”

“My precious Elizabeth,” she coos, squeezing me back, ouch again. “How are you, my darling girl? So beautiful.” She leans back to pet my hair the same way she used to and I have to suppress a sigh.

“I’m fine. Miss you though. Are you joining them in Hawaii?” I shoot straight, locking on my father from the corner of my eye. Surely he knew I’d verify.

“I am.” She bobs her head and does a little clap. “I can’t wait! Finally a vacation.” She laughs and elbows Richard in the ribs.

“Mmm,” is his only response. “I said hello to the Foster boys, but I don’t believe I’ve met the young man standing guard behind you, daughter. Care to do the introductions?”

“I do care, actually. You don’t—”

“Cannon Blackwell.” He steps around me and offers his hand, but not without shooting me that “shame on you” look of his. Gonna have to work on that, we are indeed.

“Nice to meet you. Richard Carmichael. And this is Alma. She’s been with us since Conner was in diapers.”

“Pleasure.” Cannon smiles and takes her hand—and my sixty-year-old once-nanny blushes.

“I am ready!” Conner loudly demands back everyone’s attention. “Hug me, Sister, we’re outta here.”

If I don’t, does that mean he won’t really leave? I dismiss the silly thought and turn, wrapping myself around my brother. “I’ll miss you so much, Con. Please call me and send me pictures, okay? Stay close to the others and wear a life jacket if you swim and tell Alma if you need anything, and—”

“Bethy, I know!” he huffs good-naturedly. “I got my Bubcuff on, don’t worry. But don’t sing my song ‘til I get back, though, ‘cause it’s mine. And don’t kill my fish.”

“Got it.” I discretely sniffle and wipe my nose on his shirt—couldn’t be helped. “I love you more than anything in the whole world, Conner. Come back safe to me, soon.”

“Love you more, Sister.” He kisses all over my face, one last squeeze, then he’s bouncing off the bus. “Bye, Cannon!” he yells, meeting up with Rhett and Jarrett, who’d long ago slinked past the reunion and been waiting outside.

“Give me a hug, Elizabeth, I need to hurry after him.” Alma laughs, holding open her arms. “He will be fine, I give you my word,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become. Please do some living for you.”

I can only nod, soaking up the comfort of the hug that I’ve missed for too long. I feel so much better hearing from her mouth that she’s going and will take care of Bubs.
Her
—I trust.

“I best go follow him. Nice to meet you, Cannon.” She waves, leaving the three of us alone.

“Here’s all the information on where we’ll be staying, flights and times, contact numbers.” He extends a file folder to me as if this is all a business transaction. “I appreciate you allowing this peacefully, and I give you my word, Elizabeth, that he will be well cared for and have a wonderful time.”

Cannon’s hand finds my shoulder and squeezes, letting me know he’s there, and instinctively, I reach up to hold it—my father’s eyes widening at the gesture.

“I meant what I said, too, about us perhaps sitting down and talking sometime. I am your father, and I do love you very much.”

“Will you be saying that after the ballots are counted?” I bite out, earning a harder squeeze from Cannon.

“If I drop out of the race right now, will you join me for dinner? Explain some of that hatred?”

“No.”

“I assumed as much. However, my answer is yes.”

If I could rewind but an hour, I’d have checked all Jarrett’s hiding spots and dumped the liquor. My little siren is two shots in and not taking kindly to my attempts at cutting her off, though getting shitfaced
after
the gig seems like the better plan.

In fact, if she doesn’t come out of the bathroom in the next five minutes, I’ll have no choice but to assume she passed out while getting ready and go in after her.

I know she misses Conner; hell, I miss him, too, and it’s only been a few hours, but she can’t spend two weeks in paranoid, self-destruct mode. I won’t let her. I’ll give her space, room to analyze, brew and boss all she wants…but other times, when she may not even realize it’s what she really needs, I’ll take her to the place where she doesn’t have to think, decide, solve—that will be
my
job.

“You got her?” Jarrett asks me, hitching his bass up higher on his back, kit bag in hand. “We’re gonna head on over.”

“Yeah, we’ll be right behind ya.”

Rhett hesitates, considering me with a heavy, assessing stare, before finally shaking his head slightly, a charitable grin taking over. “Good luck. She worships her brother. She might as well have lost her arms and legs—that’s what it feels like to her right now. You’re either man enough to handle her or not. But I’m betting on ya, Whistle Britches,” he sighs, patting my shoulder, “because I love her, and
she’s
betting on you too. She wants it to be you.”

“I got it,” I quip, though it comes out meaner than it should have. I’m glad she’s always had Rhett, but his work here is done. She’s mine now. Mine to love, fret over, console, and support in anything she needs, and the sooner he concedes, the smoother things will be. He can
say
he’s betting on me all he wants, but I can’t say as I believe him…until I do.

Jarrett graciously, subtly, coughs, drawing mine and Rhett’s thoughtful scowls apart and I turn my head, the air audibly whooshed from my body.

All of a sudden, there she is, emerging from the chrysalis that is apparently the bus bathroom, pushing all other thoughts to the wayside, the intoxicating creature that she is.

“Fuck me,” I manage past the barrage of emotions lumping in my throat, something not really meant to be spoken aloud.

“Not even with Rhett’s dick, but thanks for asking.” Jarrett slaps me on the shoulder with a chuckle. “But I hear ya. She’s something, all right.”

Her saunter toward me is tantalizingly, all the sexier because… I don’t even know. All I know is that I couldn’t look away if I tried, the mesmerizing sight of her redefining beauty. Her hair, back to a natural golden brown, is curled at the ends, pulled back from her sweet face to show off those huge, curiously vulnerable brown eyes. There’s some new smoky, dick beckoning thing going on with them tonight and her lips shine a little brighter with each slink closer.

She’s a short little thing, no doubt, but the black boots that
may
have a heel are as magical as they are bewilderingly mind-fucking because I swear her legs now go on for miles before sneaking under that barely there matching black skirt. I already knew she had glorious breasts, but that white tank she has on is seriously toying with my chivalry on dangerous levels, and the hot pink bra underneath, obviously meant to vibrantly tease all that God used to make a man a man is working like a charm.

Lizzie Carmichael’s a showstopper.

Words would undoubtedly fail me, so I crook my finger, begging her closer. Her eyes flick away briefly, then back, seeking mine out in unspoken need. The sound of the door closing confirms we’re alone, the Foster boys mercifully turning tail and giving us a moment.

Her little pink tongue peeks out and glides back and forth nervously as she slowly makes her way to me and my fingers twitch in my clenched fists, begging to snag her up and never let go. But I deny them—she has to come willingly, on every level.

“Too much?” she asks in a soft whisper once she’s in front of me.

I shake my head, raking my eyes across every inch of her. “You’re beyond radiant. Exquisite. There’s no word worthy of you, really.”

“I, uh, well,” her sweet heads dips only just, “tried a little harder tonight, maybe. I don’t know.” There it is—the tiny, vulnerable peer up at me from underneath her lashes that sends shockwaves of protective, primal instincts through me. “Felt kinda free, sassy.”

That sweet pink glow spreading across her cheeks…damn. I’m gonna keep it there always, constantly reminding her she is coveted and adored. “You ready? I’m thinking ten seconds to say yes before I devour you right here.”

Her delicate
,
shy laugh bolsters everything male about me and I growl without conscience, stepping in to her.

“Need a little nibble,” I murmur, and unapologetically steal a few along her jawline, ending at her earlobe, then painfully force myself to pull away. “Let’s go, gorgeous.” I take her hand and intertwine our fingers, hers short and dainty, mine warm and strong, all trembling. “I’m only so strong.”

***

The show tonight is infinitely our best. See You Next Tuesday is on point, blowing the roof off the place! While Lizzie sincerely misses her brother, the liberation positively radiates off her. Without having to worry where Conner’s at every second, she transforms into this carefree spirit, relishing
her
time, the siren I’ve seen all along embracing it for herself…alive and captivating on stage tonight. Lizzie shines like her very own constellation, her voice heady and seductive, delectable little body swaying with an exotic energy that steals every set of eyes in the place. Especially mine.

I decided acting suggestively in any way on the first night Conner left might seem tacky and insensitive, but she’s more than welcome to come to me. And I’m picking up what’s she throwing down—long looks and subtle, sensuous brushes of her skin along mine—either I’ve lost my intuition or she’s receptive,
ready
. So the sooner I can tear her away from this table, celebratory drinks with Rhett and Jarrett, the better. I’m anxious to see how far she takes it. No matter what path she decides tonight holds, I want her to take the path all the way to the end, give me her all of anything, even if it’s just holding her (I pray all night), whispering all her stories on my chest, telling what she liked when she was a little girl, what she wants to name our children.

“I’ve never understood this song,” she says, pointing a tipsy little finger up in the air toward the music sounding from above.

I perk an ear… “High for This,” by The Weekend. I can’t wait to hear her insight, constantly fascinated by our in-depth discussions on all things music…throw her shot count into the equation, and this is set to be noteworthy.

“Whaddaya mean?” I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, wanting a clear shot of that stunning face.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s got a solid, unique beat, but the words?” She scrunches up her nose. “Call me crazy, but if a guy has to warn you, ‘excuse me, ma’am, you’re gonna want to be high to get through this’? I’m thinking warning bells don’t ring any louder than that. Do not start undressing or lay yourself beside him! Run, screaming ‘help me!’ the entire way!”

Delighted by her mind, sarcastic and always engaged, I laugh and lean in to thieve a taste of that clever mouth. “Excellent point. You
are
a lyrics girl after all. So I’m guessing ‘Informer’ drives you crazy?”

“Right? What the fuck is that dude saying?” Jarrett the Eavesdropper yells. “Is he even speaking English?”

“It wouldn’t matter what language it was, the natives of any country couldn’t understand him. I think it
is
English, and we don’t.” Lizzie giggles, then stretches back in her chair, arms reaching for the sky, and yawns.

“Looks like I need to take you home,” I hiss in her ear.

“Mmm,” she closes her eyes and hums, the mewl throbbing in my ears louder than the music. “So ready when you are.”

“Gentlemen,” I stand, offering my siren a hand, “we’re out.”

“Heads up, I
will
be having Skype sex on the bus tonight.” Jarrett consults his invisible watch. “Soon as Nessy’s off work, it’s on. Plug your ears, close your eyes, whatever you need to do, but it’s happening. Maybe two or three times.”

“I’ll be plugging
that
.” Rhett gestures with his head and we all turn to track his crosshairs. Cute, tiny little blonde, not bad, but my foremost thought is how much she looks like the old Lizzie. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt on this one—maybe he simply prefers blondes—unless he forces me to cure any hang ups in the form of my foot up his ass.

“Bus is all yours, boys, just sterilize. I’m bathtub and room service bound tonight.” She clicks the side of her mouth. “See ya.”

She leads, her grasp on my hand unyielding as she weaves us through the horde of bodies. I should probably take over and commandeer control, but damn it all if I can’t pull my eyes off her ass in that skirt, salivating just imagining all the things I wanna do to it.

But not tonight…the greatest test of willpower I’ll ever endure. I have to keep reminding myself—let her come to me, set the pace and limits. I can’t scare her off when I only just got her…if I’ve really got her.

In the bustle, a hard blow into the side of my body knocks me sideways enough that my hand loses Lizzie’s. I’m quick to gather my bearings, my only concern reconnecting myself to her, but it’s hard to spot her, much shorter than all the others around us. “Baby!” I yell frantically, then shake my head—like she’s the only
baby
in here? “Lizzie!” I scream again, louder.

Relieved, I see her little hand pop up amongst the sea and wave madly, and I instantly know it’s not a good wave, she’s scared. Growling,
now
a ruthless man, I shove and toss people aside like limp rags, fighting to get to that hand; the only thing I see. But when I make it there, I’m no longer relieved.

Some punk, about an inch shorter than me, but say, 20 pounds heavier, has my Siren wild-eyed and pinned against the wall. From here, I can see the pulse in her neck racing, and all I see is red, crimson, the color of blood when it first leaves a body. Yanking him by his shoulder, I pull the fucker back and spin him to face me. “I believe you may be too close to what’s mine,” I sneer, fists already locked and loaded at my sides.