Between Breaths (The Seattle Sound Series Book 2) (8 page)

B
riar

“
H
ow about this
?” Hayden asked, pulling away just far enough to brush my hair back, his eyes roaming my face.

I wasn’t supermodel material, but at least my features were symmetrical. My eyes and mouth were a bit too big for my narrow face, but my nose was straight and small, my chin softly rounded. I spent way too much money keeping my eyebrows thin and arched. My lashes were long but not as thick as I’d like, my eyes a boring blue. Lia said my coloring was striking, and because I’d never lacked for dates, I guessed that was at least somewhat true.

“I want to take you on a date tonight. A proper one. No hat and sunnies. No eating on the couch.”

I nibbled my bottom lip, still plumped and sensitive from our make-out session. Hayden’s kisses were addictive. I wanted more.

“If you’re worried about the pap, we can eat in my suite,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “But we’ll do it at a table. With candles and real glasses.”

I blinked, forcing my train of thought away from all the places I wanted to lick, suck, and nuzzle. “I hadn’t thought about the media.”

He smiled, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Says the journalist.”

“No, seriously I—”

“You’re not much of a yabber either.” He pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin right at the corner of my eye. Who knew that spot was such a turn-on? Or maybe I was just turned on because Hayden was touching me.

“So. Tonight?”

“I’d love to, but what about Princess?”

Hayden glanced down, staring at the fluffy ten pounds of fur wending between our legs. “We’ll feed her again before we leave this morning and then stop here on the way back to my hotel. Does that work?”

I nodded. “You’re sure you want to be seen with me? Written up with me in the media?”

He kissed the other side of my face, in the same spot. I couldn’t suppress the shiver. “Yes.”

“Then I agree.”

“Smart woman.”

I snorted. “I want some coffee.”

“Then a run. A good ripper to get our blood flowing.”

“My blood’s already flowing,” I said. “Has been since you’ve been in just your boxers.”

He tugged my hair. “I planned to make you brekkie. But I couldn’t find the coffee or the cackleberries.”

“What?”

“Eggs. For an omelet.”

“I like omelets.” I licked my lips and leaned into his chest. “But I’d like to eat you more.”

“Behave. The cat will rip me to shreds.”

I opened the canister with the coffee and turned on the electric kettle. After pouring the boiling water carefully over the expensive ground beans, I handed Hayden a cup.

“Never seen a cuppa made like that.”

“How do you do it? Straight up on a drip machine?”

He snorted. “I order out when I’m in Melbourne. Everywhere you go, even the shitty milk bar on the corner will have a fifty-thousand-dollar coffee machine on the counter. We list our coffee in terms of notes and accents and
terroir
. Like Napa does its wine. That would be annoying if the coffee wasn’t so amazing. Sydney’s not quite as good, but I haven’t been spending much time there, even if it is where my mail goes.”

“Well, now I’m worried about serving you coffee,” I joked.

“I have to say my local coffee is better than the stuff I drank in Italy, and on par with that in Spain.”

“Do you like the traveling?” I asked, hesitant.

“Not as much as I thought I would,” he said, his eyes broody. “Cheers.” He raised his mug in a salute and took a sip. “That’s bloody fine,” he murmured.

“As good as your Melbourne stuff?”

“Not likely, love. But good for a Yank effort.”

“Keep talking to me like that and I won’t go to dinner with you.” I rolled my eyes.

He slid in close to my back, his hips bracketing mine, my head falling back into the solid wall of his chest. His free arm wrapped tight around my waist while he continued to sip his coffee.

“Hush. This is the best morning I’ve spent in years. Probably ever.” Hayden rubbed his nose against the sensitive spot just behind my ear. I set my mug on the counter seconds before I dropped it. Between his words and his long body clad only in boxer-briefs, I’d never get past my quivering mass of hormones and focus on any task.

“Finish your coffee, love. We’re off for a run.”

“How’d you know I run?”

“With legs like that, you have to,” Hayden said. His eyes heated as he took in my bare legs.

“You just want to see me in spandex,” I joked, trying to ease the nearly insurmountable sexual tension building between us.

Hayden’s grin was wide and naughty. I shivered as heat slid from my chest, down deep into my belly. I picked up my mug again, took another sip of the coffee.

“Fair dinkum. Get dressed. We’re off.”

I pouted as I set my mug in the sink.

“None of that, Sweet Briar.”

“My dad used to call me that,” I said.

“I can see why. You’re sweet. Now, let’s be off. I’m a man on a mission.”

“Why?”

He flicked his index finger across my chin. “I’ve cracked on you. This is more than having a naughty.” He shrugged at my silence and quite possibly the confusion on my face. “Sex. It’s more than sharing a quick rub off.”

“I’m glad we agree on that.” Amusement warred with concern. I knew his band was waiting for him, just like I knew many musicians stashed lovers in every city-of-call. Even Doug, Lia’s late husband, had treated that part of music as a given, setting up his sexual exploits in tandem with a new gig.

There’d always be someone competing for Hayden’s attention, a woman trying to take my place, willing to do something more daring.

I went into the bedroom, subdued. Pulling out my workout clothes, I sighed in frustration. I didn’t want to be the Seattle listing in Hayden’s phone. I couldn’t handle anything less than exclusive. Not with Hayden anyway. As I tied on my running shoes, I considered whether I should back out of dinner. Of seeing him for the rest of the time he was here. That would be the prudent decision.

Hayden was petting Princess’s back when I entered the kitchen. He’d set out another plate of salmon, this one even bigger than the first he’d given her, and filled her dish with dry food. Her water dish was full and our mugs were in the dishwasher.

He even managed to make his day-old jeans and tee look sexy. He nodded when he saw my bag; it contained a change of clothes for after our run.

“Maybe dinner isn’t a good idea,” I blurted.

He crossed to me, his arms coming around my waist. I was stiff, not wanting to let him in further. Already, after less than twenty-four hours in his company, I was within inches of heartbreak. And I wanted him. Badly.

“I was trying to reassure you, and it came out all wrong. You want me to back off because we’re in deep.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “But I can’t. Even with the shit my mum dumped on me, the time with you is the most honest—the most real—I’ve spent in years. That’s what I meant.”

“It’s okay, Hayden. I’ve spent enough time around musicians to understand the lay of the land.” I forced my eyes to his. “You’re touring. That’s a crazy schedule. You won’t be in the same place for more than a couple days at most. And there’s always something new to tempt you. Booze, women, drugs.”

He rubbed his thumb from my cheek down to my lip. “I don’t want to talk about the tour. I want to tell you how gorgeous you are. How much I enjoy your company. Having a cuppa with you, watching the sunrise, that was beautiful. So if it’s just dinner, that’ll be enough. Because you’re the first real friend I’ve made in years. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to shag you like crazy.”

His arms around my waist kept me upright. His words, they melted every jaded edge I’d ever built. I sucked in a deep breath and forced my eyes to his.

“Whatever we’re doing, it’s profound,” I said in a hushed voice. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

He pressed a kiss to the tip of my reddening nose. “I feel the same. But I’m not letting you out of my sight long enough to focus on all the reasons why this is crazy.”

I shouldn’t have agreed. But when he grabbed my hand, I let him pull me from the condo. After locking up, we rode the elevator in silence, his thumb continuing to rub the back of my hand. I drove to his hotel and we walked through the lobby, still holding hands. Sure, people gawked, but I chose not to care. I was going to enjoy this as long as I could.

H
ayden

B
riar set
a grueling pace for longer than my typical route of five kilometers. She slowed as we approached the Pike Place Market District, her ponytail swishing across the back of her sweat-slicked neck. Thoughts of licking that salty wet spot had kept me going for the past fifteen minutes. She beelined toward the entrance of the market.

“Hey, Dave. How’s the family?” she asked as she stopped in front of a long chrome counter. Dave was older, probably in his late forties, early fifties. Balding. Big nose, thin lips. His black T-shirt featured a white logo that read Dave’s Coffee. Creative bloke. His arms were thick either from stacking boxes or eating large meals. Maybe both.

A man in the corner of the small space tracked Briar, his eyes devouring her exposed skin. I stepped in close, wrapping an arm around her waist and shooting the dickhead a back-off look. He grinned sheepishly and melted into the growing crowd.

It’d been so long since I’d felt possessive about a woman. I’d spent three years dating Allison Phillips, the last year at uni and then as I began the grueling process of turning my passion for music into a lucrative career. She’d broken our relationship off, telling me she was pregnant with some grad student’s bub. Six days later, my dad’s heart quit beating. While the events weren’t related, I’d backed away from any further entanglements, always remembering those months as some of the toughest in my life.

I’d loved Allison. Or at least I’d been falling in love with her. I wasn’t too clear on the difference. Just that my heart hurt when she left me.

I turned back in time to shake Dave’s hand. His eyes scanned each of my features.

“G’day,” I said.

“You’re the Aussie rock star! From Jackaroo. Hot damn, Bri. You know the coolest people. Thanks for coming by.”

“No worries. Briar wants a drink.”

I glanced behind me, seeing the people beginning to turn toward me, rabid interest lighting their eyes. Crikey. I didn’t want to do a meet and greet here, not with Briar.

“I told Hayden you have the best coffee in Seattle. He seems to think we can’t compete with the stuff they brew in Melbourne.”

Dave beamed, his double chin quivering with pride. A quick glance back from the corner of my eye showed more people’s heads turning in our direction. The crowd behind us was growing.

I leaned in. “I’d like to keep the mob forming off Briar’s back. Any way we can get those to go double-quick?”

Dave’s face slackened with surprise as he saw the people loitering behind us. “Yeah. Course. Coffee’s on me. Shoulda kept my big mouth shut.” He glanced up again, a sheepish scowl flitting over his face.

“Is it always like this for you?” Briar asked, studying my tensing profile.

I shook my head. “Nah, just since the last EP landed. ‘She’s So Bad’ got loads of airplay, even here. At least that’s what the label told us.”

She nodded, her eyes clouding with concern as the people pushed in closer. “It did. Though it’s a pretty angry song.”

“Hayden, can I get your autograph?” A girl’s scream lifted over the early-morning hum of the place.

“Bollocks,” I muttered. “Business calls.” I dropped a kiss on Briar’s surprised lips and turned toward the crowd.

“Step away from my girl, folks. I don’t take kindly to the idea of her getting hemmed in or crushed.”

I walked toward the small alcove that housed a few tables. “I need a pen,” I said. A young woman in a suit handed over a pen and manila file folder. I signed her paper and smiled when she told me how much she loved “Arms of the Night.”

“Bet Dave would appreciate you buying a cuppa. Best coffee in Seattle,” I added with a wink.

Dave let Briar through to the back side of the counter, where she tried to stay out of his way, occasionally plating up a scone or bagging a muffin as Dave ran around the small coffee bar, filling orders. Resigned to my task, I smiled and chatted, giving fans our North American tour schedule and dodging questions about the replacement pianist Jackaroo brought in to cover for me.

“Just taking care of some family business,” I said, eyes flicking toward Briar. They would be all buzzy about me showing up here while the rest of my band was headed to Asia.

I’d text my mates, let them know whatever pictures went live didn’t show the whole situation.

“Are you dating her?” A college-aged girl asked. She was pretty, her dark eyes framed by skin a shade lighter. Her thick, black hair was slicked back from her face, showing off high, elegant cheekbones and red-painted lips. I turned to look at Briar. Were we dating?

“We’re serious,” I said.

The girl glanced from me to Briar, who was helping Dave with a large to-go order. “Lucky woman.”

“Pretty sure I’m the lucky one. G’day.”

Twenty minutes later, I stood, stretching. I hated the cameras the most. Everyone had a cell phone, of course, and everyone assumed they had the right to invade my morning by taking pictures of me, sweat stained and thirsty. I knew photos were already loaded up across a multitude of social media and aggregator sites. This part of fame I could definitely do without. From the pinched look on Briar’s face, I assumed she felt the same way. Bloody hell. I’d miscalculated.

I’d planned to wine and dine her tonight, wooing her until she was so enamored with me, the fame wouldn’t bother her when the story about us hit. Media coverage would follow, as it always did, usually in the form of an unrelenting tidal wave, trying to suffocate me before I could paddle to the surface.

Dave motioned me over, his face serious and apologetic. Once I was behind the counter, he handed me a white paper sack.

“Sorry about the crush, man. I made you and Briar coffee. I threw in a bag of my favorite beans and some muffins.”

“Appreciate the thought. You okay?” I asked, turning toward her.

Briar nodded, but I could see the worry forming at the corners of her eyes as a television news camera lifted over the crowd.

“I wondered if they’d show,” I said. “I don’t want to do an interview now.”

“Took them nearly half an hour. Must be a busy news cycle,” Briar said, some of her humor pushing through her concern.

“You have a back exit?” I asked.

Dave pulled back a thin curtain. The space he revealed was all stainless canisters and racks of baked goods. “Goes to the alley. Never thought I’d need it for more than deliveries.” His laugh was nervous. “Good seeing you, Bri. Come back soon. Both of you. I’ll do better with my excitement next time.”

I clicked open the pen the young professional gave me and scrawled my name on one of Dave’s to-go mugs.

“No worries, mate. It’s been crazy since the album went live. Thanks for the cuppa.”

I shepherded Briar, who held our coffees, out the back door, before leaning back against the ratty brick wall. I shut my eyes, drained. “I hate that part. Too many people.”

“Don’t all rock stars love their fans?” Briar asked. She took the bag from my hand.

I opened my eyes as she offered me a tall paper cup. “Buying our music, sure. I’ve never liked performing though. I mean, yes to the piano, no to the ferals.”

“You say the oddest things.”

“Ferals. Young crazy people.”

“Ah.” She took a sip of her drink, thinking. “That seems odd. To do something you don’t really like.”

“How’s it different than half the adult population? And I didn’t say I didn’t like the people. I don’t like them pressing on me, the expectation of being on, being interesting, being the rock star they’ve built up in their heads.”

“Must be difficult to balance both ends,” Briar said with a frown.

I shrugged as I sipped. “This is good, but still not as good as my stuff. I’ll get you to Melbourne and show you how it’s done.”

Briar’s lips flipped up in a reluctant smile. “Sure. I didn’t think about you getting mobbed in there. I’m so sorry. The paparazzi are going to be looking for you now. I understand if you want to go back to your place, lie low.”

“Why ever would you apologize? I’m the one who ruined our coffee date. It’s the invasion of my space whenever I try to go out that I hate so much. I’m just a bloke who happens to play music. I want to take my girl to brekkie, same as the rest of the world.”

“I should’ve been smarter,” she fretted. “I really am sorry, Hayden.”

“You should quit worrying. Now, time for a shower so we can go up to the hospice.” I grabbed her hand, threading my fingers through hers. I pulled down my ball cap and put on my sunnies, pulling Briar back into the crowd.

* * *

B
ack at the hotel
, I managed to answer a few e-mails from Flip and Ets, letting them know my mum’s situation was deteriorating. As I wrote them, I couldn’t stop picturing Briar naked under the hot water, soap bubbles dripping across her pale, soft skin as she showered just a few feet away from where I sat.

A ping sounded from my laptop and shook me from my fantasies. He’d responded immediately, in typical Ets fashion.

“See you met a bit of arse. Nice distraction. Hope she’s making the death-walk easier.”

I frowned at the screen. I wasn’t answering that shit. Next message was from Harry. I wasn’t sure he ever slept, not with the multiple stupid stunts Ets had pulled in the past year.

He wanted to know if he should send the label’s publicist into the fray on the pictures that were popping up—pictures of Briar and me. A few were from lunch yesterday. We appeared calm, a couple enjoying a meal. I liked that.

No one was mentioning my mum yet. I blew out a relieved breath.

More were from us today, both during and after our jog. Briar’s face was guarded, eyes downcast at everyone in the market. Except in one photo.

I held my breath, her eyes grabbing me even through the thousands of pixels on my laptop. Her desire was so obvious, I found my fingers on the cool screen before I’d realized I’d lifted them.

I was already a hot mess, and I hadn’t even slept with her yet.

I typed back to Harry.
Let people know she’s important to me, and I’m asking for privacy during this difficult, personal time. Or whatever the hell you send out in a statement.

He responded almost instantly.
One step ahead of you, mate. Press release is here. Give it a look-see, and I’ll send it out in ten. And you owe me for holding Ets back. He said to tell you to stop shagging the sheila and get your arse back on tour.

That wasn’t what Ets said—his language would’ve been much worse. Well, Ets could just wait.

Reading through, I noted that Briar was a close personal friend. A sardonic smile formed on my lips as I signed off on the release and closed the laptop.

Standing, I stretched, scratching my full belly. Dave’s muffin was good—made with those huge marionberries. No wonder Briar liked that place.

She stepped out of the bathroom, a hotel robe wrapped around her lean runner’s body. I’d missed her whole shower. Figured.

Even from the distance, I could smell the fresh, floral scent of her shampoo. I grinned as she took a brush out of her bag and began running it through the wet strands of her hair.

“All yours. I didn’t want to hog the space. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“I won’t.” No way in hell I was going to be ready to leave with all her naked glory right here in front of me. Especially considering what awaited me. My lips curved up. This . . . this was a much, much better way to spend the morning.

She winced as the brush caught in her hair. I plucked the brush from her hand, falling victim to an overwhelming need to squeeze each gram of enjoyment from our time together. Maybe the expiration date on our shared time made each moment special.

I led her toward the big picture windows with great views of the sound. She glanced at me over her shoulder, and I pressed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. She inhaled, her body melting back into mine. Liked that, she did.

I grinned as I adjusted my grip on her. Taking my time, I placed more small kisses there.

She hummed deep in her throat, and I cupped her cheek. Pressing my lips to hers, I waited a heartbeat for her to part her lips. She did, and I slid my tongue into her mouth, lapping up her taste and fanning the flames of desire between us in long, lazy swipes of my tongue.

She moaned and struggled to turn fully into my arms. Blood pumping hot and thick through my veins, I stepped back and turned her until she once again faced the window. Lifting the brush, I swept it through her wet hair, letting it pull to the ends. Briar released a breath and relaxed.

“Mmm. You’re good at brushing my hair.”

I smiled at the slightly ragged quality of her voice.

“I’ve never done this before.” I paused, hesitant to reveal too much of myself. But this was Briar. We were in a space that no one could enter. So I said, “Hair brushing or courting a woman. Never wanted to.”

She turned her head a little, and I let the brush hover over her. Her blue eyes were dark. Her lips parted, a little swollen from my kiss. Her cheeks bloomed with soft pink color.

“I like firsts with you, Hayden.”