Sweet Ache

Chapter 39

QUINLAN

“So here’s the schedule.” Hawke lays a calendar on the table in front of me. The ocean breeze rustles it some so I take it in my hands and hold it up to look at Bent’s tour schedule over the next few weeks. The cities and venues are marked on each day and then every few days feature bright red asterisks in pen that have no rhyme or reason.

“Thank you,” I say distractedly to the waitress as she sets down my drink. After gazing at the calendar for another minute, I still can’t figure out the red marks that bleed all over the page. “What are …?” My thought trails off when I lift my eyes and meet Hawkin’s.

He’s staring at me beneath the shield of a baseball cap, the bruise on his face almost gone now, and I can see the amusement mixed with love in his eyes clear as day. A soft smile curls up one side of his mouth as the moment stretches on. “Figure it out yet?”

“The red?”

“Mm-hm.” He nods his head and tips back the bottle of beer to his lips. There’s no specific pattern and the closer I scrutinize the dates, they cover over two-thirds of the days on the tour. I look back up at him, eyes narrowed, and shrug. Hawke leans forward and kisses me. “I’m making it count, Trixie,” he murmurs against my lips before leaning back to see my reaction. “I thought you might want to come cause trouble with me.”

My heart squeezes in my chest because my love for him has grown stronger with each passing day. I can feel my mouth fall lax in surprise before spreading into a beaming grin. “Really? You want me to come visit you on tour?”

“Yep,” he nods. “You’ll be on winter break most of the time and I thought you might want to get away. That and … well, I figured if we’re making a band together, it’s only natural that it travels a bit.”

“Of course. Every band has to tour,” I tease, but I’m also blinking back the tears that burn in my throat. His admission that he wants me with him makes me feel like I’m walking on air. For a man so used to pushing everyone away, he sure as hell is doing a great job of keeping me close. It’s my turn to press a kiss to his lips. “I think I can manage being one of your groupies for a bit.”

“Well, you did dress me up like an eighties hair band,” he teases, “so I get to dress you up as a road ho so that you can fit in.”

“Hmm, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Short skirts, high heels, no panties, teaching me the soundboard in small alcoves,” I murmur as the memory of our tryst fills my head and turns me on.

“I like alcoves,” he groans under his breath and I love that I do that to him.

I point to a day where there is no asterisk. “Why not this day? This day works for me too.”

“Well, I have another groupie signed up for that day,” he deadpans, earning a punch in his shoulder. He dodges me with laughter and grabs my hand, pulling me close to him.

“No you don’t, Play!” I struggle against him in jest but I surrender willingly when he uses his kiss as the means of negotiation. “I just might have to get a thing for lead guitarists then.”

His mouth opens in shock and I take full advantage. My hand is fisted in his shirt in an instant and my tongue slips between his parted lips. Damn the man can kiss me senseless.

Hawkin’s fingertips slide over my thighs and pull my chair so that my knees fit between his legs. He leans back and looks at me with that rock god smirk that turns me inside out. “Lead singer trumps guitarist any day.”

“I thought it was rocker trumps racer?” His fingers grip my hips in a hint of what he wants to do to me when we leave the Surf Shack where we’re eating our lunch.

“Sweetness, I’ll trump anything you like as long as—” I cut him off with my kiss again.

“Is this the asshole rocker?”

My brother’s voice shocks us apart and every part of me wants to whirl around and tell him to take his protective-brother bullshit down a notch because I’ve got this handled, but I don’t because I’m too busy watching Hawke. And God how I love the fact that even though my heart feels like it was jump-started from cardiac arrest, Hawkin’s hands stay firmly in place on my thighs and his eyes meet mine before slowly shifting to the voice behind me.

“Colton.” He nods his head, the back the fuck off warning apparent in his stare.

“Oh chill out!” It’s Rylee’s voice that has me turning with a wide smile on my lips. Of course I love my brother, love how he takes care of me, but I love how Rylee puts him in his place even more.

I shift out of my chair and stand to wrap my arms around her. She leans back and raises her eyebrows in approval when her eyes dart over to Hawke. “What is it with you and hot men?” she whispers with a devilish smirk on her lips.

“You must be Hawkin,” she says as she releases me. I turn to face Colton. He angles his head and looks at me before watching Rylee take a seat next to Hawkin and start up a conversation.

“The paper flattened out enough, I take it?” he asks in that gruff voice that tells me he’s trying to be a hard-ass but at the same time is glad I figured my shit out and got the outcome I wanted.

“Yeah,” I whisper in his ear as I pull him into a hug. “Thank you.” He just squeezes me a bit tighter in response.

“Remember what I said?”

When I lean back and stare at him, his warning about having a talk with Hawkin should things work out comes flooding back. As much as I dread the idea, I know that it’s Colton’s way of showing he loves me. “Go easy on him.” My request earns me a wry chuckle.

Rylee doesn’t break stride in chatting up Hawkin about his upcoming tour when we take a seat at the table. I’m far from blind and so I catch the intermittent glances that Hawkin and Colton share, each one laying claim to my protection.

As the topic comes to a close, Hawkin shifts his attention completely to my brother. “So Colton, lay it on me, man.”

Holy shit. Both Rylee and I startle and whip our heads at Hawkin, who’s going boldly where no man has gone before. And the fact that Colton chokes on his sip of beer makes it that much sweeter.

Colton sets his beer down and his eyes are locked on Hawkin’s. “Wanna get something off your chest, man?”

I roll my eyes at Colton’s testosterone-laced question and love how Ry quirks her eyebrow at him in a come on gesture.

“Nope.” Hawke shakes his head a couple of times, and I love that he’s not backing down and is playing Colton at his own game. That I mean enough to him to take a stand. “But I think you do.”

Silence stretches, and both Rylee and I are fighting smirks over the invisible battle the two men that we love are waging. “Q’s need to protect you from me is a first and tells a whole helluva lot about what she thinks of you…. But no bullshit, man, no one’s ever going to be good enough for her, so sorry—but I’m not sorry because that’s the breaks. You’ve got a lot to prove.” Colton pauses to reinforce his words. And as much as I hate this, I love this. Love that Colton is laying down the law and being a big brother, and that Hawkin’s letting him. Colton glances over to me and then back to Hawke. “My sister’s a big girl, she can take care of herself, but flat out, if you fuck with her again, you’ll have to deal with me.”

“Colton!” I kick him under the table and enjoy the grunt he emits in return.

“Nah, it’s cool,” Hawke says as he stands and reaches across the table and holds out his hand. “I understand. Deal?”

Colton eyes Hawke’s hand for a moment, working his tongue in his cheek before standing to shake his hand. Their hands grip tightly, gazes lock, and trust is passed from begrudging brother to a worthy lover.

I glance up at my sister-in-law across from me and she mouths, “So he’s the one, huh?”

I nod subtly and feel stupid for the tears that suddenly spring to my eyes when I realize that she’s absolutely right. Hawkin is the one. He’s my one. I guess I believe in fairy-tale endings after all, so long as I can write my own ending….

And I sure as hell am going to make sure this ending counts for us.