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“No one wants to think about Dion like that,” Jax continued. “Naked.” He shuddered.
“Don't need to think about it. We’ve all seen him nude. I probably have photos somewhere.” Erik called unhelpfully.
From the kitchen, Elodie popped her head around the door. “I wouldn't mind seeing Dion naked again.”
Jumping to his feet, Jax bellowed. “Woman!”
Elodie’s giggle was loud as he chased her away. She liked to tease him about seeing us all naked from the time we had been skinny dipping, but truthfully, Elodie only had eyes for him. They were so in love that at times, it was nauseating.
“Don’t care about Dion being naked. My sister, on the other hand, no, hell no,” Louis said, his voice quiet, icy anger making his voice lower than usual. He didn't need to elaborate, the threat was clear as our eyes met.
“No one is talking about Lola.” Tate tried to soothe the situation that he had started. “It was a joke.” Turning his attention to me, he frowned. “Neither Dion nor Lola were naked when I turned up. I was messing with you. Isn't that right?” He implored me with his eyes.
“No nakedness at all,” I said truthfully, and technically, it was the truth. Neither one of us had been actually naked. That didn't mean things hadn't happened. Beautiful wet things. Things that I couldn't wait to do again.
“If you don't respect her, Dion, me and you are going to have some serious problems.”
Raising my hands, I smiled. “I respect Lola, Louis. Have no fear about that.” Hell, if he didn't believe that, then he hadn't read the lyrics of the song at all.
“Your reputation isn't exactly…” He paused.
Yeah, I knew what my reputation was. It was the same as his and that's what he was afraid of. That I was going to treat Lola like he treated women. Which made him a hypocrite on so many levels.
“I know what my reputation is, Louis,” I said softly, “But Lola isn’t like any other girl, she's…” I’d been about to say different, but that didn't quite cover it. Even though she was, in fact, different to anyone I’d ever met, Lola was so much more than that. A one of a kind lady. A beacon of light.
Hell, she was my damn muse.
Writing a song about her, and about the heartbreak and pain being away from her had caused me, was going to make us all very rich people.
Louis summed it up in three words. “Lola is special,” he said, looking me dead in the eyes.
“Yes, she is, and that's why I’m never going to hurt her. You have my word on that.”
He studied me for several long, stretched out heartbeats and then nodded. “Make sure you don’t.”
“Right, now that's out of the way.” Erik clapped his hands. “How about we actually get back to work?”
* * *
At a little past seven, Elodie returned from her little impromptu shopping trip. She had a heavy woollen hat over her soaking curls and the shoulder of her coat was damp. In her hands were several carrier bags that clanged when she moved. Elodie was, like me, on the teetotal train, but she looked like she was carrying enough booze to put the Navy to sleep.
“Look what I found!” With a flourish, she stepped further into the room and Lola stepped up behind her. If Elodie looked damp, Lola resembled a drowned rat.
“Lola.” Without thinking about the people who were watching us, I rushed forward. “Where the hell have you been? You're soaked.”
Shrugging off her coat, she grinned a little self–consciously at everyone staring at us. “I had an interview and then I did a little Christmas shopping and…” Her eyes travelled around the packed living room. It hadn't been a big room to begin with and with all the band packed in, it was positively cramped.
“Did you get the job?” her brother asked.
“Of course she did.” Elodie handed the bags to Jax, who stood with waiting arms. “She also got cheese and hot chocolate, so…” she wiggled her eyebrows, “you know what that means, right?”
We stared at her silently. Sometimes Elodie was a goofball. She didn't show it much, but it was always there waiting to break through her professional exterior.
“Oh, come on, guys,” she huffed. “It means hot chocolate and cheese toasties. All we need now is a Christmas tree and it would be like a Christmas movie.”
I didn't know what kind of Christmas movies she had watched growing up, but it didn't sound very festive to me. “I could eat,” I mumbled, my eyes still on Lola, who was slipping her feet from her heeled boots.
“And I wouldn't say no to a boozy hot chocolate,” Tate grinned.
