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Jazz followed the direction of Nick’s glance to where Simon and the redhead she’d seen earlier were sharing appetizers off a tiny plate. He still wore her streamers in lieu of a shirt, but he’d added a pair of tiger slippers that poked out from under the threadbare hem of his jeans.
“Those are my slippers, for fuck’s sake.”
“Giant feet.” It was the first grin she’d seen from Gray in weeks, so she didn’t slug him in the stomach for making fun of her feet. Again. Weak spot, meet pointy stick.
“Sexy slippers.” Nick smirked and tugged on one of her braids. “Though you’ll never want them back now. They’re infused with Simon stench.”
She was halfway to Simon to demand he return her footwear when she remembered the two guys she’d left behind and cast a glance over her shoulder. Seeing Nick and Gray standing near each other, such complete opposites and both so mouthwateringly sexy, tossed her back to a night eight months ago when she’d had them both. Sort of. She’d had all of Nick—as much as he was willing to give anyway—and part of Gray. Not nearly enough.
She’d been trying to pick up the pieces ever since.
While she stood there, Gray shook his head and strode away, heading toward a couple of roadies who’d congregated near the end of the food table with Harper. Harper meant safety and sanity and Deacon, wherever he was.
She could so go for a big bear hug now. Deak was her one slice of normal in all this crazy. The one person who hadn’t gone and changed on her or done something she didn’t understand, no matter how she tried.
He was her friend, something she needed more desperately than she ever had before.
“Took you too long.” Nick strolled forward and jerked a thumb toward where Simon had been only a moment before. Now only eau de skank remained. “Seriously, forget about the slippers until we install a decontamination chamber.”
She laughed and faced Nick again, wishing she could roll back time a few months. Even after the super awkward threesome she’d never forget, things had sort of returned to normal between her and Nick. Sure, it was weird to sleep with a guy and break up with him after calling out another guy’s name during sex—especially when you were in a band together—but they’d dealt with the situation and moved on. Their thing had lasted less time than a New York minute and besides, Nick wasn’t serious about anything that didn’t have strings.
Fine by her, since she wasn’t serious about anything she couldn’t pound into submission. Her drums were all that mattered. And yeah, her little fractured band family too.
A little voice whispered at the back of her head. And Gray. Always Gray.
The memory snuck into her consciousness, erasing the fancy hall and the snooty guests slowly mixing in with road-weary band types. In a blink she was standing on a sidewalk in San Francisco, inhaling misty air in big gulps, the back of her neck warm from the mid-afternoon sun.
“So, what do you think? Do you like it here?” Strong arms encircled her waist. “C’mon, tell the truth. Is San Francisco all you thought it would be, Jazzmatic?”
Gray’s teasing tone made her grin as she looked back at him. He knew the answer already. “I love it here, you jerk.” She laughed and twisted in his embrace, leaning up to frame his strong jaw in her palms. He had a face the angels had carved, all sharp lines and good bone structure offset with soft, full lips and eyes the color of the ocean when a storm was blowing in. But right now, those eyes glimmered like sunlight on the bay, full of amusement and pleasure. Because they were together, alone and far from home.
The scent of his spicy aftershave overwhelmed her senses and the scruff against her hands rasped over her skin. His long hair lifted in the breeze, tangling with hers, his dark to her pink and purple, and seeing the strands wrapped together warped her brain. The impulse to move closer, to take a taste, rang through her before she snuffed it out.
He was her best friend. Only her friend. And that was just the way it had to be.
“Jazz?”
She rubbed her forehead and glanced around, wondering how she’d ended up in a place where fake icicles hung from the ceiling and a rap version of “Silent Night” played from unseen speakers. The buzz of voices pinged through her skull, their laughter harsh and unsettling. Her stomach gave a hard twist and she cupped it, trying to place herself. This wasn’t San Francisco, and a smiling, flirty Gray wasn’t holding her tight. That boy didn’t exist anymore.
For that matter, neither did that Jazz.
“Are you okay?”
Finally she made eye contact with the voice. “Hey, Harp. I was just about to come see you. Love your skirt.” It was harder to smile than it usually was, but Jazz made the effort because she wasn’t about to mope during the holidays. She had big plans and she refused to get lost in some memory spiral so she forgot what she’d set out to do.
Operation Seduce Gray was underway. He just didn’t know it yet.
“Thanks. It’s new.” Harper did a quick twirl that sent the tiers of velvety fabric fluttering then propped both hands on her hips. She was pregnant, but it was early days yet so all that showed was the glow. “You haven’t been over to eat yet. Don’t tell me you’re dieting. I’ll slap you.”
Jazz had to laugh at her friend’s no-nonsense tone. Harper would follow-through on her threat too. She didn’t mess around. Hell, she had to be tough to keep a big guy like Deak in line. “Dieting near the holidays is basically self-torture. No thanks. I’ll worry about that on January first with all the other idjits.”
“Good, because I come bearing gifts.” Harper gestured at the plate she held. “I made pigs in a blanket, but I wrapped the little hot dogs in hickory smoked bacon. Plus, there’s cherry honey mustard sauce for dipping.” Harp nudged the dish into Jazz’s hand. “You’re welcome.”
Jazz took a hearty bite and groaned. “Oh God, I just had an orgasm.”
“Damn, if that’s your O face, I feel kind of bad for you.”
Jazz giggled. She felt bad for herself lately too. She hadn’t actually had a reason to have an O face since, oh, last April or so. Even self-stimulation was out, considering she lived with four males and Harper and existed in fear that one of them would overhear a moan at the wrong time. Besides, that night with Gray and Nick—as orgasm productive as it had been—had basically put her off sex for a while.
