Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) (2 page)

Marissa safety belted Tristan into the same chair he had earlier vacated, and instead of taking the seat beside Jack, she sat in the one across from Tristan.

“Want a drink?” Jack stood at the mini bar, catching her eyes in the mirrored wall as he offered.

“I do!” Tristan informed, sparing only a glance from his rummage through his shopping bag. “Look Mom!” Tristan tossed the swim trunks and Bandit beach towel aside in his excitement upon discovering an assortment of blow up toys, diving rings, and various other pool fun.

To Tristan’s astonishment, Jack folded out a table from its armrest compartment and set two juice boxes atop it. A few minutes later, Jack set a mixed drink in the cup holder on the arm of her chair and returned to his seat with his own.

The pilot stepped out of his nook long enough to inform them that they were about to taxi, and once they were in the air, Marissa addressed the elephant in the cabin.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you–” Jack was about to say ‘tell you what.’ That much she felt. But whatever crossed her face caused him to abort that tactic and try her own shenanigans against her. “I thought you knew.”

“How would I know?” Agitation caused her to lean forward in the seat as she made the incredulous inquiry. “So, is your name Storm or Loren?”

“Storm is an alias. Professional name. DBA.”

“DBA?”

“Doing Business As.”

“So your name is still Loren.”

“Jackson Matt Loren.” The admission grudgingly came, and he tossed back the contents of his glass.

Jack Storm. Marissa Storm. Tristan Storm. All had filled her head for days, and it was hard to wrap around another name. Jack Loren. Marissa Loren. Tristan Loren.

“This is what you wouldn’t tell me last night.”

When he fell silent, as if he were going to let it drop, a realization occurred, and she looked up from an intent study of the French manicure Olivia had insisted she have prior to the meeting of the future in-laws. Her heart hammered as her next question came out as accusative as the last.

“Did you think I would be all weird last night around your parents if I knew?”

When this speculation provoked a quirk of a smile, much like his dad’s she was discovering, she wanted to lunge across the cabin and slap it off. Because, of course, she had acted all weird, a half hour ago, upon discovering the truth. Now, she was the one to let it drop.

Studiously ignoring him, she peeked into her shopping bag finding a ginormous thread count sheet and comforter set. The accompanying card explained in a humorous tone, Jack’s masculine decor, and that, until she found time to redecorate to her and ‘Jacks’ mutual liking, maybe this could suffice.

From her corner vision, she noticed Jack eying the cream-colored set, and couldn’t help but wonder if his mother had been perceptive enough to realize that a change from the bedding that other women had been in would be welcome. Cramming the stuff back into the bag, Marissa snatched up the drink, gulping it down.

When she next looked over, Jack was asleep, and she wondered if he were faking it since she heard none of the slight snores that normally accompanied his exhausted sleep. If she had not felt so keyed up, she would have napped.

The previous night had only a few sleeping hours in it. After the parents had departed, and she and Jack had gotten dirty in the tub, they had then stayed up still a couple of more hours still playing.

The rumble of turbulence on the underbelly of the plane effectively ripped away her erotic memories, and she let her gaze glide around the interior of the cabin.

Was this her new life then? Private planes? Famous names?

The new found security of not mentally allotting every penny of her paycheck to some bill or necessity before it even hit the bank was somehow counterweighed by an insecurity she did not understand. A feeling that was so foreign that a couple of times both yesterday and today she had verged on what must be a panic attack.

Forcing long slow breaths, she closed her eyes to the lavish surroundings and her hotter than sin fiance while struggling to stave off the next attack.

TRISTAN LAUGHED AS IF
he were already on a Disneyland ride as the plane quickly dropped in altitude. With a slight jar, the wheels noisily connected with pavement then rapidly roared to a coast before steering off the main runway and to the awaiting hanger.

Through the cabin speaker, their pilot announced the arrival, and in the cabin, the seat belt lamp blinked off.

Seeing that Tristan was safely in Jack’s arms, she grabbed up the personal things brought on the plane. Jack picked up his own bag. As he patiently stepped aside waiting on her to go ahead to the door, she indicated the large shopping bags from his mother. “Do you want me to–?”

With a shake of his head, he explained, “Whatever we leave will get brought to the car.”

The mentioned car was a high-end black SUV idling on the tarmac with its hatchback yawning open. Their luggage was being loaded. True to Jack’s word, after a clasp of Jack’s hand in greeting, the driver sprinted up the plane steps and returned with the shopping bags. The hoodie Tristan had insisted on wearing, only to discard midway through the trip, was also in the young man’s hands.

Tristan found it funny when the guy tossed it into the backseat and ‘accidentally’ over his head.

Introductions came next. She shook hands with the guy who was introduced as Jack’s assistant, Dax. Closer up, he appeared to be in his young twenties. Moving away, he loaded the shopping bags with the luggage and swung the hatch closed.

Dax climbed into the driver’s seat. Jack fumbled at the passenger door before sheepishly catching his error. Politely holding the rear door open for her, he then climbed in behind her.

“Where to?” Dax inquired as he navigated out of the large airport.

“Chris,” Jack answered while leaning an ear down to hear Tristan who was softly and shyly speaking.

“Is this Cally Fornya?” Although he was asking Jack, Tristan’s eyes strayed to her for confirmation of Jack’s affirmation.

Tristan was gleeful with the answer, and automatically she looked to Jack to share the moment. But, after smiling down at Tristan a moment, Jack looked away to the sunset drenched city beyond the window.

Dax shot friendly grins in the rearview as he inquired about the flight. Then, the conversation bouncing between Jack and Dax revolved around names and places she did not know.

A quarter of an hour later, the car slowed in front of a large iron gate. Dax punched something into his phone, and the gate swung open. When the car came to a stop, Jack popped the door and stepped out.

With a ruffle of Tristan’s hair and a glance at her, he announced, “Be right back,” and loped to a side entrance of the home.

Slightly annoyed at being left confused, she watched Dax transfer their personal belongings into a sleek sports car parked to the side of the drive.

“Is this Jack’s house?” As he spoke, Tristan crawled over her lap to look at the large brick structure. When she didn’t immediately answer, he prodded, “Is it mom?” Tristan possibly confused her situational agitation for anger at his shortened use of her name, and he hastily corrected, “Momma.”

“I don’t know sweetie.” Her fingers forked through his hair smoothing the strands Jack left sticking up.

Feeling restless, she stepped from the car to better take in her surroundings.

Dax was close enough to hear Tristan’s inquiry, and as he grabbed the last of the luggage from the SUV, he spoke through the vehicle from the backside. “This is Chris Platt’s house.” When she stared blankly, he slowed en route to the car. “Guitarist for Jackal.”

Feeling like an idiot for not knowing the members of the band, she shook her head as if to clear it. “Of course.” Inserting a fake giggle, she lied, “Jet lag I guess.”

Dax slammed the trunk of the sleek car, and it was then she noticed the personalized plate above its bumper.

J-A-C-K-A-L

Confirmation, of the vehicle belonging to Jack, came only a minute later. Jack emerged from the house along with his bandmate, who was, if possible, just as hot as Jack.

Stopping short, Chris played at being stunned stupid by her appearance causing a flattered flush to creep up her neck. The guitarist’s greeting was an enigma. “Now I see why he didn’t want me to come out and meet you!”

Marissa sent a brief questioning glance Jack’s way, but he was leaning into the car, and she quickly turned what she knew would be hungry eyes away from his backside.

The day of watching him load and unload was taking its toll on her libido. She was ready to bang his bones. Yet, because of some weird vibe in the air, she was also highly annoyed with him.

Chris began to move forward again, then lightly rested his hands on her shoulders. “Welcome to LA! We are all happy to have you!” Leaning forward, he kissed her cheeks before she could even catch her breath or wonder why Jack had discouraged the evening’s introductions with his bandmate and friend. “You ever need tips on handling this crazy shit here,” with a flourish, he indicated Jack, “I’m your guy.”

“Damn Platt,” Jack grumbled while straitening. “Get back in your cage dude...”

“Oh you would like that wouldn’t you?” Chris was now fist bumping with Dax. “Fine, man. Take her home. Hide her away.”

Jack shot her an unreadable look as he passed taking the few steps to the SUV and Tristan. “Ready, buddy?”

“Holy fuck! Is this–!” Chris, stunned stupid again, this time by Tristan.

“Language...” Jack warned his friend.

“I mean holy smokes. Little dude! You look just like–” Here Chris broke off seemingly embarrassed and nervously looked from Jack to Marissa.

“His daddy?” she prompted, for some reason at ease with Chris.

“Yeah.” Chris bumped fists with Tristan, and his attention was still on the little boy’s face as he spoke off to the side, “Didn’t know if he—you know, knew.”

Jack shook his head and shared a look with Dax as if to silently say, ‘See why I didn’t want him out here?’ Aloud, he inquired of Dax, “So, you going back to the house, or what’s up?”

“I got things going if you don’t need me.”

“Sure. Hey, thanks for giving us a ride.” Jack plucked Tristan from the SUV, carrying him and his crutch to the car although it was only a few steps, and she admired his perceptiveness when it came to his son. Tristan was barely using the one crutch these days, but he was no doubt embarrassed just the same to hobble around in front of new acquaintances.

Since they were obviously taking the ‘Jackal’ car, she moved around to the passenger side but found it locked. Instead of unlocking it from the driver side, Jack was suddenly there and gallantly opened her door himself.

After a round of parting phrases, Chris disappeared into his house. Jack voiced a start command and the engine rumbled to life. Feeling Tristan’s astonishment, she turned, and sure enough, his eyes were bugging.

“Did Daddy use a key?” His wide gaze suspiciously narrowed as he tried to solve this mystery.

Jack grinned, but again he did not turn the expression to her. Following the SUV out of the circular drive, he verbally conversed with his car again until music thunked through the speakers.

The twisty residential roads spilled into a boulevard. Streetlights were flickering on, and car brake lights were bumper to bumper on the interstate he merged onto. Tristan fell asleep.

Shadows were beginning to fade into grayness with evening well on the way to becoming night. She could handle silence between them. Although it was uncharacteristic, they were both tired.

What she did not like was feeling invisible. He was not acknowledging her presence in any way, and she was feeling insecure enough about this trip and their new relationship to let this go without a confrontation.

“Is something wrong?” Twisting slightly in her seat, she eyed his profile.

“Wrong?” Finally, he briefly met her eyes, but did not rest a hand on her leg or any of the other normal Jack moves.

“What’s wrong?” Determination fueled the quiet demand, and she alternated her gaze from the windshield view of this strange, crowded city to the emotions crowding his face.

“Nothing?” Blithely, he continued with the denial game.

“You’ve been weird since we landed.”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted. Just when she became convinced she was paranoid, his outburst came. “It’s just–you went all fangirl on my dad!”

Startled into silence, she finally found her tongue. “It was kind of hard not to! When it was dropped like that on me.”

“I know.” At this, he sounded regretful and guilty. “But damn Mariss, I thought you were going to ask for autographs or something!”

“It caught me by surprise! Damn Jack!”

Was he embarrassed by her behavior? This implication hurt her feelings. Intensely. Up until now, she had only seen a Jack who went out of his way to be considerate of her and Tristan’s feelings.

Seething silently, she tried to hold back tears. What was it with crying lately? Why was she always on the brink of tears? She was tougher than this. Sternly, she pulled herself together and even let a scowl scrunch up her brows for good measure.