Rock Chick Revolution

Chapter Two We Got a Deal

Rock Chick Rewind

Three weeks later…

I was sitting at the bar in Club, a happening hotspot in Cherry Creek that posed as a posh eatery but was mostly a pickup spot. I had on a little black dress that did the best it could (and its best was far from bad; the dress was scorching) with what little cleavage I had. I had on killer strappy black sandals that I’d borrowed from Indy, who had borrowed them from our friend Tod, the premier drag queen in Denver, and she’d not returned them.

Tod wouldn’t mind. He was generous with his shoes. I had three pairs of them in my closet already. He also had two pairs of mine.

I was there because I had my eye on Zach Gilligan, the guy a friend of mine, Helen, was dating. They’d been together for a while and she liked him a lot. But she suspected from some of the behavior he was exhibiting that he had a nasty habit that was the reason she had cash going missing from her wallet more than once. And last week, she’d “lost” the diamond pendant her grandmother gave her when she graduated from the University of Colorado ten years ago.

She feared her cash and the diamond she treasured was going up his nose.

I had no idea how I was going to prove this fact, outside of watching him with his buds, eating steak, drinking martinis, laughing, and him being the loudest and liveliest of the lot because he was so obviously coked to the gills. But I couldn’t just tell Helen he looked high. She was into him and really didn’t want to believe he was stealing from her.

It was going to have to be an eye witness account.

I was hoping that eye witness account wouldn’t include me following him to a meet with a dealer. I tried to give dealers a wide berth. Jules got jacked up by a low level dealer and ended up killing him before he killed her because he’d already put a fair amount of effort into that (in other words, two bullets in her body). For obvious reasons I wanted to avoid situations like that.

I didn’t even own a gun. I wasn’t prepared for getting on dealer radar, nor did I ever think I would be. Though, since I planned to keep doing what I was doing, I knew it might happen.

I just wasn’t prepared (yet).

So I was waiting for my shot to follow him to the bathroom. If guys were in there and they saw me when I entered, I’d pretend I was tipsy and went in the wrong door. But I was willing to do it in the hope I’d catch him in the act. If I caught him in the act, Helen would believe me. Totally. We were tight.

I was thinking this when I heard a familiar voice say from behind me, “Ally.”

Chills slid over my skin and weight settled in my gut as I realized my mistake.

In order to watch Zach with his boys in a back booth, I’d put my back to the door.

Which meant I was ripe for attack.

Fuck.

I turned on my stool and looked up at Ren.

He was wearing a well-tailored suit that looked good on him.

As for the rest, everything that was him, top to toe, was the thing of dreams.

It was then something I always loved—the fact that Denver was huge, sprawling, dynamic, eclectic, diverse and energetic, but could still be a small town—became something I hated.

Living there my whole life, I never went out without knowing there was a very good chance I’d bump into someone I knew, liked, and would shoot the shit with them in a grocery aisle or arrange to go to a movie or end up in a bar sucking back Fat Tires until we had to order a taxi.

Then there were times, and there were few, when I ran into someone I most definitely did not want to see.

Like now.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey,” he replied. He looked at the empty stool beside me and back at me. “Got a minute?”

I didn’t. I had to keep an eye on Zach and time his bathroom break so it worked for me, and hopefully for my friend Helen.

But I didn’t want to blow off Ren. That might give him the impression he’d shredded me. Or at the very least upset me.

He had shredded me. No doubt. It made no sense. Drinks, conversation, great sex and just one night. How that could lead to me feeling dead inside, I had no clue.

I just knew it did. And I wasn’t one of those chicks who denied things. I was real with everybody. Including myself.

But not including Ren. No way in hell I was going to let on he’d done that to me.

Therefore, I said, “Sure,” and turned my whole body his way.

He sat and caught the bartender’s eye.

As we were waiting for the bartender to arrive, I looked for a hot babe hanging back and found none, so I asked, “You here alone?”

His eyes came to me. “Business dinner. Saw you, told them to start without me.”

That was interesting. We hadn’t really parted on good terms. If it were the other way around, I wouldn’t make the approach.

Before I could dig deeper, or, the better option, find some way to blow him off without letting on I was doing it, the bartender came.

Ren ordered, “Vodka gimlet,” and I felt my eyes widen slightly. “What?” he asked when he looked at me.

“You’re a gimlet man?” I asked back.

“I like booze,” he answered. “I’ll drink anything but tonight I’m in the mood for sour.”

I didn’t know what to do with that.

His brows went up a couple of centimeters. “You got a problem with the gimlet?”

“I’m a bartender, Ren. A gimlet order is rare. But when it comes, it’s women who order it.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Know you’re tight with men who drink blood and eat nails, babe, but just to say, what a man drinks does not make that man.”

I didn’t know what to make of that either, except I didn’t like it all that much. Much like I didn’t like his parting shot of weeks ago, also a slur on my family.

“Do you have a problem with my family that I don’t know about?” I asked.

“No, and don’t know how you got that from what I said. What I got a problem with is you giving me shit about what I drink.”

“I wasn’t giving you shit. I was just surprised,” I corrected him.

“Ally, in case you don’t know this already, a man is not gonna take kindly to anyone sayin’ he drinks a woman’s drink or does a womanly anything.”

I had to admit, he had a point. And I had to admit, I’d done that. I also had to admit, that was a wee bit uncool.

Still, he didn’t have to get so irritable about it. I mean, I was very well acquainted with his manhood and his ability to utilize it with exceptional proficiency. I’d communicated learning this knowledge by having orgasms the likes of which he could not mistake as fake. Therefore, I’d hardly question it.

Whatever.

Seriously time to move on. I shouldn’t have said yes to his “minute.” I shouldn’t give a shit about what he thought about me. I didn’t anyone else. Why him?

Instead of pondering that question now, I decided to do it later and asked, “I see you stopped by to spread cheer, but I’m in the middle of something. So maybe we can wrap this up so I can get back to it?”

His eyes looked to my untouched martini, my dress, my legs, my ass in the stool and around the restaurant before coming back to me. “What are you in the middle of?”

“Something,” I replied. “Now is there something you needed?”

He studied me, again did his scanning thing of me and our surroundings, then he looked back at my face and stated straight out, “I fucked this up.”

That was a surprise statement so my head cocked to the side. “What?”

His gimlet arrived, taking his attention again. He told the bartender to put it on his table’s tab and turned again to me.

“I didn’t come over here to be a dick. I came over here to apologize for being a dick.”

Now that…

That threw me.

The men of my acquaintance didn’t apologize. They admitted no wrong verbally and instead did things (maybe) to make amends physically.

Of course, most of that was the Hot Bunch dealing with their Rock Chicks so I had not experienced it personally. Still, I’d heard about it. All about it. And sometimes I’d witnessed it. But I’d never experienced it.

I said nothing.

Ren kept talking.

“I had a good time with you. You’re funny. That whole thing you got goin’ on.” He flipped a hand out to me, my guess his flip indicating all that was me. “It’s good. It works for you. It works in a big way for me. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous. You’re a fantastic fucking lay. It was a good night. I got pissed you took off when I wanted more. Came to your house, acted like a dick and you didn’t deserve that shit. No excuse for it. But you gotta know, I felt like an asshole because I was an asshole. I’m glad I had the chance to tell you I know I was an asshole.”

On that, as I stared at him, lips parted, he grabbed his drink and slid off the stool.

Looking down at me, his gaze moving over my face and hair, he finally caught my eyes and said quietly, “And you look good tonight, honey. Beautiful.”

Still staring at him, lips parted, he turned and walked away.

It took me a while to stop focusing on all that he said, and the vision of him burned into my eyeballs walking away (he seriously could rock a suit), in order to pull myself together.

But I was Ally Nightingale, so pull myself together I did.

I turned back to Zach, but grabbed my martini on the go. I wasn’t a martini girl. More like tequila. Though I was like Ren, I enjoyed booze and could drink anything. But the martini was what I had and I needed to wash what just happened away, at least for now, so it would have to do.

Fifteen minutes later, Zach got up to go to the bathroom.

Thirty seconds after that, I followed him.

I didn’t have to do the tipsy act when I hit the men’s room because no one was visible when I walked in. But there were shoes under a stall, standing sideways so not using the facilities, just using the stall for privacy to hide a nasty habit.

Loser.

I opened the stall next to Zach’s, stepped up on the toilet, balanced and looked over the divider.

He had a vial in his hand and a spoon to his nose.

“Hey, Zach,” I greeted.

He jumped and his vial of cocaine fell into the toilet.

I swallowed a laugh.

His head snapped back to look up at me. “Ally, what the fuck?”

I answered his “what the fuck” with, “Kiss Helen good-bye, you thieving, asshole cokehead.”

Then I stepped off the toilet, pushed out of the stall and moseyed out of the bathroom, ignoring Zach making desperate fumbling noises in his stall and calling my name.

I took the back exit.

It was closer, for one. Zach wouldn’t expect it, for another.

And I wouldn’t have to see Ren as I walked through the restaurant, for last.

I sat in my Mustang outside Ren’s place, staring at his door.

His house really was great. It looked like it could be in The South. It had that kind of grace with a veranda, big multi-paned windows, a brick paved walkway and lush landscaping. It had a welcoming settled feel like old houses did. I liked it.

You look good tonight, honey. Beautiful.

I sighed.

A simple compliment. And highly effective.

It works in a big way for me.

My thing worked for Ren.

Well, one could say Ren’s thing worked for me, too.

Big time.

And he’d apologized for being a dick. Straight up. I’d been a bitch, stupidly spitting in the eye of the tiger by making an idiot remark about his drink after he’d approached to apologize. Then he didn’t push the drink issue and apologized.

Class.

I got pissed you took off when I wanted more.

He wanted more.

Well, one could also say I wanted more, too. Hell, my Lelo Lily was constantly on her charger, she was used so much, me on my back in my bed, my Lelo between my legs, Ren in my head.

Fuck.

It was going on summer so the days were longer, but it was full-on dark so it was really late.

Still, I threw open my door, folded out of my car and clicked on my high-heeled sandals across the street (I hadn’t changed, for a reason that would hopefully work for me), up Ren’s brick paved front walk and to his ash green front door.

He had a doorbell so I didn’t pound. And anyway, I wasn’t pissed. I just rang the bell, and seeing as I could see light filtering around the drapes to my left, I figured he was up.

Ren didn’t strike me as early to bed, early to rise.

He wasn’t.

The door opened and there he stood wearing the trousers from his suit (dark blue with a hint of a shine, perfect freaking fit) and his tailored shirt (blue, gray and black stripes on white, open at the collar, rolled back at the cuffs; hot).

“Ally,” he greeted, staring down at me, and strike that on the list of one of the many things that did it for me with Ren.

He was up a step, but I was in four inch heels. Being five nine that put me at tall. Still, he was way taller than me. So much taller, no matter what shoe apparel I was wearing, if he wanted to take my mouth, he’d have to work for it.

The thought made my inner thighs quiver.

Time to do what I came there to do.

“Zano, I know it’s late, but I was out and I thought I’d come by to say it was totally cool what you—”

I spoke not another word since his arm flashed out, hooked me at the waist and I was flying through the air. I landed full-frontal against his body and a quarter of a second later his mouth landed on mine.

He dragged me in as I opened my lips and his tongue thrust inside.

He kicked the door closed behind me.

We made it to the bed this time before I had my first orgasm.

But when I had it, we were both still fully clothed.

The next three, he gave me naked.

The next morning…

I woke up naked and mostly sprawled on Ren.

There was a heavenly throb between my legs that suggested strongly that the first time with Ren was not a fluke.

He really did totally know what he was doing.

“You awake, babe?”

I lifted my head from where it lay on his chest and looked at him.

God.

That hair, his face, his corded neck, the column of his throat, all sleepy or tousled and resting against a backdrop of wine colored sheets that I knew, because I could feel, were the softest sheets in history—definitely what dreams were made of.

“Hey,” I said as my good morning.

His lips quirked. “Hey.”

Yeah. A rough, drowsy, deep voice with all the rest.

Dream material.

Ren kept talking.

“Just in case you didn’t get my message last night, pretty fuckin’ pleased you came by to accept my apology.”

I felt my lips tip up.

His eyes watched.

I felt my happy place pulse.

His eyes moved to mine; my happy place must have communicated its happiness on my face because his face got dark. His arm, already around me, tightened, and he dragged me up his chest, even as he rolled. His body pinned mine to the bed as his lips covered mine for a deep, wet morning kiss that was so damned good, it made my happy place pound.

Ren then pressed a knee between my legs. I opened them in invitation, and for my graciousness, I got a hard muscled thigh pressed tight against my happy place.

I moaned down his throat.

He pushed his hips against my thigh and groaned down mine.

His happy place was happy, too.

I decided I needed to do something about making it happier.

So I did.

As did he.

Thirty minutes later, we were both still breathing a little heavily. Ren’s face was in my neck. He was buried deep inside me. Our skin was misted with damp. The fingers of one of my hands were in his hair. My other arm was curved tight around his back, and both my legs were wrapped around his thighs.

After a late night that included lots of mind-blowing sex, I had just discovered he was also good in the morning.

Why did I not find this surprising?

He lifted his head and his warm, sexy eyes caught mine. This had the result of making me catch my breath.

“You want me to make you breakfast?” he asked.

Jeez.

Seriously?

This guy could also cook?

I tested the waters.

“Are we talking instant oatmeal or eggs benedict?”

That got another lip quirk before he answered, “I was thinking croissants, eggs whatever way you want ‘em, fresh strawberries, bacon and tater tots.”

Did he say tater tots?

For breakfast?

“Did you say tater tots?” I asked in order to confirm.

“Baby.” His hips pressed into mine. I bit my lip at how good that felt and his face dipped close. “Tater tots rock breakfast.”

Ren Zano ate tater tots for breakfast and served them up to his fuck buddies.

He was a dream.

“I’m totally down for breakfast,” I answered.

At that he smiled and my world ended.

Again.

Because I wanted that smile every morning right after mind-blowing sex and right before my tater tots.

And I wanted it for a lifetime.

Don’t ask me how I knew this, I just did. Deep down, I knew it. Right to the very heart of me.

But I didn’t let on.

Again.

Forty-five minutes later…

“You’re right. Tater tots rock breakfast,” I said to Ren, incidentally saying it around a mouth full of ketchup-covered tater tots.

He grinned at me.

I returned the favor (closed mouthed, because food grins were gross) and looked down to my plate of food.

We were standing in his kitchen. Or he was. He’d cooked for me while I made coffee and then watched him cook. His scrambled eggs were fluffy, cheesy and delicious. His bacon was crisped to perfection. His croissants were bought fresh from a local bakery and they were buttery and amazing.

But when he offered me my filled plate and told me to take it to the dining room, I hefted my ass up on the counter and commenced eating.

This might have been rude, but I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. I accepted his apology. I accepted his body. I gave him mine. That was as far as this was going to go.

You might think I was crazy, but a man doesn’t fight over a woman, take her back, carry her from a crashed car that would eventually explode (told you the Rock Chicks were magnets for trouble—when I said trouble, I meant trouble), and speak her name in his sleep with another woman in his bed and not be hung up on her.

This was fact.

So I wasn’t going to set myself up for that kind of heartbreak. I wasn’t like Ava, blonde with lots of tits and ass. Okay, so I had some ass, but not lots of it. And I was a girl so I had tits, just not the kind of rack Ava had. I was also a brunette.

I wasn’t his type.

I was just available.

And I’d continue to be available, especially if fantastic sex came with breakfast that included tater tots.

But I was drawing that line. No doing budding couple stuff like sitting at the dining room table, eating breakfast and sharing after a night of great sex.

No, it was going to be snarfing down your delicious fluffy eggs and tater tots in an I’m-a-girl-on-the-go kind of way, then being the girl on the go by going. Then, if the spirit moved him or me, coming back for more.

The weird part of me making this non-verbal statement was that Ren didn’t push it. Instead, he watched me hop up on his counter. His eyes flashed with humor even as his lips quirked with it, and he settled his hips against the counter kitty corner from me.

But he kept his eyes on my ass on his counter in a way that told me he was currently—and would later—be thinking about my ass on his counter in a good way. This made me think about other ways my ass could be on his counter, and these were good, too.

My happy place, sated and content, started getting happy again.

I didn’t need to get happy again. I wanted to get happy, but I didn’t need it.

I needed to get to Fortnum’s, hang with my friends and be in my normal. That was to say, see if one of Lee’s other guys decided to wade into the troubled life of some sick gorgeous woman who had people wanting to kidnap her, stab her or steal her money, and wade into that.

I also needed to make some money. I might not be girlie, as it were, but I liked my rock concerts and LBDs, and neither of those came cheap.

Therefore, I declared, “Glad we did this, Zano. It’s good we didn’t leave it as it was. Where this is at right now is much better. But after I help you with the dishes, I gotta bounce. I have to get to work.”

As I spoke, his gaze went from my ass to my eyes, and when I was done talking, he announced, “I’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”

Shit.

I’d like that too, but that wasn’t going to happen.

I shoved the last tater tot in my mouth, jumped off the counter and turned to the sink. I rinsed my plate, put it in the sink and turned to him.

Leaning a hip against the counter, I caught his eyes and gentled my voice when I told him, “Listen, this is good and I like it. But I just got out of a somewhat long-term relationship and I gotta sort my shit before I move on from that.”

This wasn’t exactly a lie. Carl and I were close. I missed him. I wasn’t pining for him; I knew I’d made the right decision. But it wasn’t like we ended things six months ago. Our break was recent.

But it wasn’t just that.

I went on.

“And you’ve got the Ava thing.”

Now that was definitely not a lie.

His head cocked to the side, his eyes went guarded, and he asked, “The Ava thing?”

I wasn’t going to go there, but also, I didn’t want to take him there. Things were settled with Luke and Ava. They were all kinds of happy. Ren probably knew that and I shouldn’t remind him of it. In fact, I shouldn’t have said anything.

I moved us around that. “What I’m saying is, if you’re cool with it, I’m cool with this being casual.” I smiled at him. “In fact, I’d be way cool with that.”

He studied me a moment before he moved into me, getting close. He leaned around me to put his plate in the sink, straightened, caught my eyes again and stayed close.

He was talking as gently as I did when he replied, “Had women say that to me, honey, but they didn’t mean it.”

“I’m not like other women.”

His gaze moved over my face before locking on my lips and he murmured, “I’m sensing that.”

I didn’t know if that was good or bad, but I was taking it as good by the heat in his eyes.

“So if we continue to hook up, I’m down with casual. Yeah?” I pressed so I could get away from the heat of his eyes. And also, the heat of his body. Both were doing good things to my happy place, which would mean I might not get my take of the tip jar at Fortnum’s because, if I jumped him, I had a feeling I wouldn’t want to come up for air.

As answer, he said quietly, “I like you.”

Oh fuck.

There it was. My happy place got happy. My stomach dipped. But my heart squeezed.

“I like you too,” I stated in a defensive matter-of-fact way. “But I’m not ready—”

He cut me off. “No, Ally, what I’m sayin’ is, I like you. And if all you got in you right now is casual, I want more of you so I’ll give you that. But women say shit they don’t mean. I get that they do it to protect themselves and mean it when they say it. Then they get trapped in a place they created. This guy you had, you need time to get over that, I get you gotta take it. I’ll also give it to you. But if the casual we got shifts and you get stuck and don’t communicate with me the shift you want, which means I hurt you when I have no intention of doing that…” He took in a breath. “I like you and I don’t want that to happen. So I’ll take casual, honey. Just as long as, along the way, you’re straight with me. And in return, I’ll be straight with you.”

I could be straight.

Mostly.

I nodded and asked, “So, do we have a deal?”

He smiled.

My heart again squeezed.

Then he answered. “Yeah, baby. We got a deal.”