Rock Chick Redemption by Kristen Ashley
Shamus sauntered into the doorway of the bathroom and sat down, tail wagging and his tongue rolled out.
“Whatever,” I muttered and grabbed my toothbrush.
* * * * *
We didn’t argue while walking Shamus. I pouted and practiced my cold shoulder while trying not to think about my life’s spiraling descent through the seven depths of hell.
My cold shoulder didn’t work; literally nor figuratively. Hank ignored it completely and slung his arm around my neck, making me walk pressed against his side.
I also managed to think of nothing but my downward life spiral through the depths of hell and by the time we made it back to his house, I had waltzed through the fourth depth of hell and was careening headlong into the fifth.
Hank left me to my thoughts and my getting ready routine. While he scrambled eggs and made toast, I showered.
I was standing at his bathroom sink applying blusher, when he brought me coffee and a plate of food. They were good scrambled eggs, with a hint of garlic and some cheese and the toast was toasted perfectly, not too light, not too brown and with a generous coating of real butter and grape jelly.
I found it immensely irritating that Hank was even a good, fucking cook.
I ripped off a chunk of toast angrily with my teeth and chewed while Hank watched me. He was leaning against the bathroom doorway, foot crossed at the ankle, plate in his hand, forking up some eggs.
“What now?” he asked. His eyes were lazy and amused.
“Nothing,” I said with my mouth full.
“You have jelly on your face,” he told me.
My eyes flew to the mirror.
Shit.
I rubbed it off, put down my toast and took a sip of coffee.
He walked into the bathroom, kissed the side of my head and walked out.
Fucking Hank.
* * * * *
We were parked behind Fortnum’s and I had my hand on the door handle when Hank stopped me and turned me to him.
“You want to tell me what’s buggin’ you?” he asked.
“No,” I answered.
His eyes smiled but his mouth didn’t.
How he could smile, I did not know. Even if it wasn’t a full blown smile, to my mind there was nothing to smile about.
“Is this about our conversation last night?” he went on.
“No,” I repeated, this time it was a lie.
It was totally about our conversation last night. I couldn’t get it out of my head, any of it. Last night, he’d made sense. In fact, everyone made sense, Daisy, Duke, everyone. I wanted to believe, even tried to believe.
In my heart, I couldn’t.
Deep down, I knew I had to protect myself from that time; the time that happens in any relationship, when my judgment was called into question. Then, where would I be? What would I say? I didn’t have solid moral ground to stand on and Hank was a pillar of solid moral ground. Any relationship had to have equality. Ours did not. He was clean and good, I was dirty and, if not bad, then at least dubious. Who wanted to be the dubious girlfriend?
Not me.
That said I spent more of my time thinking about him telling me that I undid him than my moral dubiousness.
“I can’t believe you can cook,” I snapped, deciding to focus on something other than the matter at hand.
His smile went away and he did a slow blink. “Sorry?”
“You’re a good cook,” I said.
“You’re angry because I can make eggs?”
“Well… yeah,” I said not caring, even a little bit, that I sounded demented. Demented was good. No one wanted a demented girlfriend.
“Sunshine, I can scramble eggs and I can cook meat on the grill, that’s the extent of my cooking skills,” he told me. “Feel better?”
“You make good toast too,” I made it sound like an accusation.
He stared at me a beat and then threw his head back and laughed. Out and out laughed. I’d never seen him laugh, not like that. I’d felt him laugh, and I’d heard him chuckle, but I’d never watched him laugh. He was good-looking all the time, sometimes better than others, but when he laughed he was beautiful.
This did not make me happy, so I scowled at him.
He caught sight of my scowl and snatched me across the cab, into his arms and buried his face in my neck.
“You’re a nut,” he said there.
Enough was enough. I had to end this. I didn’t want to, I had to.
Okay, so Hank didn’t get it. And neither did anyone else. So they all thought I was a crazy person and I would disappoint a lot of people if I broke it off with Hank. That didn’t matter. What mattered was I knew what I was doing and what I was doing was for Hank.
He deserved better than me.
(I should point out that I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I thought I kinda did.)
So I announced, “I’m moving back in with Uncle Tex. He’s a big guy, he has a shotgun. He can protect me until this mess is over.”
Hank’s head came up and he was smiling at me, like I was being cute and adorable. “You aren’t movin’ back in with Tex.”
“Yes I am.”
“Let’s forget for a second that no way in hell would he let you, I won’t let you. First, I want to make sure you’re safe and the only way to do that is for me to make you safe. Second, Tex is an ex-con. Something happens, he has to use that shotgun, there’ll be uncomfortable questions as to why he’s got a gun.”
Shit.
I didn’t want Uncle Tex to have to answer uncomfortable questions.
“So, I’ll move into the safe room until this is over,” I tried.
“Lee won’t let you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I won’t let him let you.”
I scowled at him some more.
Fucking Hank.
There was nothing for it. It was now or never.
“Okay then, I’m breaking up with you. Trust me, Hank, it’s for your own good. I know you don’t understand but one day, when you’re with a nice woman who makes you French toast with sweetened cream cheese spread in the middle, you will.”
And I hope she’s boring, boring, boring. I thought but did not say, because it wasn’t nice and I didn’t really mean it. I didn’t want Hank to have boring but, if I was honest with myself, I didn’t want him to forget me either.
I made this announcement on a wave of bravado and a seriously painful stomach clutch. In fact, I was almost certain I was going to vomit.
He shook his head and his smile didn’t change. Even though I was breaking up with him, he still was looking at me like I was cute and adorable.
“You’re not breakin’ up with me,” he said.
The nausea left me and I blinked at him. “I am,” I told him.
“You’re not.”
“Hank, I am.”
“Sunshine, you are not.”
“You can’t tell me I’m not breaking up with you when I’m breaking up with you!” I said, fairly loudly.
“I think I just did.”
I looked at the ceiling of the cab. “I do not believe this,” I told the ceiling.
There was just no shaking this guy!
Hank’s hand moved to my chin and he forced me to look at him. “Roxie, I have never met a woman more annoyingly stubborn than you.”
Well!
He ignored my flashing eyes (and I was sure they were seriously flashing) and went on. “You’ve got some fool idea in your head that you’re protectin’ me and you’re fired up to keep it there.”
“It isn’t a fool idea.”
“It’s beyond a fool idea.”
Well!
Then he ignored my grinding teeth and his grin came back. “Lucky for you, I’m as patient as you are stubborn.”
“You’re not patient. You’re more stubborn than me.”
“That works too.”
“Hank, you have to listen to me –”
“On this subject, no I don’t
“Hank –”
“Let’s get you inside, I’ve got to work.”
“We have to talk.”
“We’ll talk later.”
“We need to talk now.”
His arms tightened and he pulled me out of my seat, across his lap and his arm went around my waist as one hand slid into my hair and tilted my head down to look at his face. It was a tight fit and we were super close, his face was all I could see.
“When Fortnum’s closes, I’ll come and get you. We’ll go home, we’ll make dinner, we’ll make love and afterward you can try and convince me that we’re not gonna work. When that doesn’t happen, I’ll convince you we are. Then, we’ll probably make love again and then we’ll sleep. How does that sound?”
It sounded fucking great.
Jeez.
I was definitely in trouble. In fact I was so in trouble, you could tattoo it on me.
I gave up.
Temporarily.
“I’m going to Tod and Stevie’s tonight. Emergency Wedding Summit and then Tod’s helping me with an outfit for Daisy’s party.”
His body started shaking and I realized, belatedly, he was enjoying this. He actually thought this was fun. My stomach was tied in knots and Hank was entertained.
“How exactly were you thinkin’ you were going to manage to break up with me and then go back to Chicago when you have no car, a car full of your shit is in my house and you’ve got a more active social life in Denver than I have?” he asked.
“They’re your friends,” I snapped.
“Too late, sweetheart, you can’t scrape them off either. Although, it would be amusing to watch you try.”
Good grief.
Whatever.
Time to cut my losses.
“Don’t you have to get to work?” I asked, sounding uppity.
“Yeah,” he said.
He gave me a light kiss but the look in his eyes told me he’d have liked to have done more.
He slid me back to my seat and I got out and charged ahead. He caught up with me and grabbed my hand.
I sighed.
We walked into Fortnum’s hand in hand and it was packed.
Hank tensed, did a scan of the crowd, relaxed when he decided it was safe, yanked my arm so I fell into him and he kissed me, deep but swift.
Then he grinned down at me with approval while I stared up at him, my body leaning into his, my head completely dizzy.
Then he was gone.
* * * * *
It was a little after noon when she walked in. I wouldn’t have noticed her if she wasn’t looking around in hopeful expectation. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, she was. But there was just nothing about her that made you keep looking at her once you first noticed her.
She was wearing a long sleeved, v-necked, blue t-shirt, jeans and boots. She had strawberry blonde hair, peaches and cream skin and warm, brown eyes.
As I’d done while people-watching many times before, I mentally redesigned her outfit so that it would pack a bigger punch, get her noticed, give her some flair. Better belt, definitely. A funky necklace would help. Some cleavage for certain. And a different pair of jeans; ones that weren’t utilitarian but that made a jeans-like fashion statement. She had a great figure and she needed to learn to work it.
She was looking at Uncle Tex (or, kind of staring at him in horror), then she caught my eye, decided I was the safer bet for whatever was on her mind, walked up to me and smiled.
“Hi. Do you work here?” she asked.
“I do today,” I answered, smiling back.
I was sitting behind the book counter.
When Hank dropped me off, Indy, Uncle Tex and Jet were the only ones working. The place was jammed, there were empty coffee cups everywhere. They weren’t even keeping up with the crowd and had no time to clean up. I gathered the dirty dishes and started washing, happy to have something to take my mind off my thoughts.
Not that I could have thought anything, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Gimme Three Steps” was blaring from the radio when I hit the sink and Skynyrd played for the next two hours.
Once the crowd died down, Indy gave me a quick training session on the book counter cash register (Uncle Tex was strictly espresso and didn’t do book sales) so she and Jet could go see Jet’s Dad in the hospital. They were going to swing by and get us some lunch on the way back.
The girl looked to Tex, then back to me.
“Does India Savage still own this store?” she asked.
“Yep. You looking for her?” I answered.
She blushed and her eyes slid away. “Actually…” she hesitated then looked back at me, “I’m looking for a friend of hers. Hank Nightingale. Does he come in here?”
I stared at her.
Holy cow.
I felt something twist inside me, something painful.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Hank comes in here. Do you know him?”
“We, um… dated awhile back. Then, I moved to New Mexico. Now I’ve moved back and I thought I’d look him up. He and Indy, well you know, they’re close,” her voice trailed away and then she brightened with determination. “I’m Beth,” she introduced herself.
“Roxie,” I replied.
She looked at me and her eyes did a quick sweep. I was sitting on a stool, my legs crossed and a bit away from the counter, leaning my elbows on it. I was wearing a fitted, boat-necked, black sweater and worn-out, vintage Levi’s. I had an intricate, chrome, mesh choker around my neck and a matching wide bracelet over my sweater at the wrist and round-toed, black suede, platform wedges with kickass magenta binding and sling-back strap.
“Have you worked here very long?” she asked.
“I don’t really work here, I’m filling in.”
I felt badly for her. This couldn’t be easy and she didn’t even know I was sleeping with her ex-boyfriend. I didn’t know how to tell her or even if I should. I decided I shouldn’t, especially considering the current circumstances.
“Listen,” I said. “Do you want me to give Hank a message?”
“Um, yeah. Could you tell him –”
The bell over the door went, she turned, I looked over and we both saw Hank walk in.
Damn.
His timing was shit.
As he walked in, it hit me even more than normally how good he looked. Jeans that fit so well, they might be illegal in a few states. Gun and badge on a killer, dark brown belt with a heavy, matte silver buckle. An olive brown sweater with half zip and a high collar, the hem tucked in behind the belt, untucked around the rest of his waist, sleeves shoved up his forearms.
He could have been in a fucking catalogue and he didn’t have three stylists to make him look that way, it came naturally.
His eyes were on me, warm and lazy, the edges of his lips turned up in a sexy smile.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Hank –” I said but it came out quiet and croaky.
He rounded the counter as I cleared my throat. “Hank,” I said, louder this time but he was there. I’d come away from the counter and tilted my head up to look at him and, even though Beth was standing there, and before I could stop him, he wrapped his hand round the back of my head and he gave me a light kiss.
He hadn’t even looked at her.
“Thought I’d take you to lunch,” he said softly, his eyes looking in mine, his hand still around my head. He’d moved away barely an inch.
Shit.
I cleared my throat again, even though I didn’t need to, and said, “Hank, you remember Beth.” Then my eyes slid to the side.
He let me go and straightened, turning to Beth and I watched him. For a second, he seemed blank, like he didn’t remember her and my breath caught in my throat.
Then, he smiled. Not the sexy lip turn, but a friendly, genuine smile. “Beth. Jesus. What’re you doin’ here? I thought you lived in New Mexico.”
Beth looked between Hank and me. She was blushing, big time.
“I moved back to
Hank shifted into my space and his arm went around my shoulders, unconsciously doing a man-brand move, not having any idea why she was there.
She went from just blushing to looking like she’d plunge a knife in her gut if one was handy. I searched the counter just in case there was a letter opener within reach.
“That’s great,” Hank said, still oblivious.
“Hank,” I cut in. “Beth’s here –”
“No!” she interrupted me, her eyes on me and they were huge. “I just popped by… um…” She was faltering. It was going to have to be Roxie to the rescue.
Quickly I said, “Beth’s here to buy that Dan Brown book. You know, the one about da Vinci?”
Hank looked down at me, likely wondering why I was sharing this absurd information.
“I told her we didn’t have it. You wouldn’t know where to get it, would you? She wants to read it, like, bad,” I finished lamely.
God, I was such an idiot.
Hank looked at me, then looked at Beth, then cottoned onto the situation. If she was just looking for a book, I would hardly know her name or alert him to her presence.
His face softened and he moved away, taking his arm from around my shoulders.
“Beth,” he said quietly and my heart lurched, for Hank, who obviously felt badly but especially for Beth, who was humiliated.
“Maybe I’ll try the Tattered Cover!” she announced gamely then looked at me. “Thanks for your help Roxie.” She looked back at Hank. “Hank, great to see you. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
She moved to leave and I called out, “Wait!”
I stepped off my stool, bumping into Hank who was still close.
“Why don’t you two go to lunch?” I suggested.
“What?” Beth said, or kind of expelled in a breath filled with mortification.
“Sorry?” Hank said, staring at me like I’d lost my mind.
I had an idea. It was a heartbreaking idea, but it was something.
She seemed sweet, she was pretty and she liked him. She liked him enough to come searching for him when she got back to Denver. She was normal and probably never had anyone shoot at her, nor ever would.
So she needed a snazzier wardrobe. Indy would help her out.