Here With You (10 page)

Nicole didn't mind. As far as she was concerned, she was happy to leave the business
details to Olivia so she could do what she liked: sell romance.

"So." Olivia leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms. "Tell me about
him."

She stilled, causing Parker to fuss. Patting his back, she rocked him back and forth.
"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're going to play dumb about all the flowers in here?"

"Yes."

"Then it's serious." Olivia pursed her lips. "You'll give notice if you decide to
leave me, right?"

"I'm not leaving you." She rolled her eyes at Olivia's disbelieving gaze. "Seriously.
I'm not going anywhere. It's not like that. He's just my old best friend from childhood
who's visiting."

"Michael was my best friend from childhood, and he came back to stay."

"Yes, but Grif won't."

Olivia just stared at her.

"I mean it." She rubbed the baby's back, trying not to notice how nice he felt. "He
needs a little help, and then he'll be on his way again. He doesn't stay in one place
for long."

"Michael didn't either, until he came back and asked me to marry him."

Nicole stilled, caught by the vision of Grif on his knee, asking her to love him forever.
Pathetic vision, because it wasn't ever going to happen. He was married to his guitar,
whether he remembered it or not.

As if he sensed her unease, Parker began to fidget. She tried rocking him harder,
but he began to mewl.

"He's hungry." Olivia held her arms out.

She reluctantly surrendered him to his mom, feeling the loss as soon as he was lifted
from her. She'd never thought she'd want children, but maybe she did.

Olivia smiled down at her baby, serene love in her eyes. She rocked him back and forth
as she pulled out a bottle from her diaper bag. He latched onto it eagerly, his long
fingers curling around hers.

Nicole watched them, feeling their bond and being jealous.

"When Michael came back, I didn't want anything to do with him," Olivia said so softly
that, for a moment, Nicole thought she was talking to her son. "I didn't think I could
forgive him for leaving me. I didn't think he could make the commitment to settle
down. But in the end, I had to try, and I'm glad I did, because otherwise I'd be missing
the best days of my life."

Nicole swallowed thickly. "You're saying I should be open, because it'd be better
to have loved and lost."

"Hell no." Olivia made a sour face. "Losing sucks. But if there's a window for happiness,
you shouldn't miss climbing through it."

"Got it." She sighed. "I'll keep my windows open."

"He may come in through one."

She smiled ruefully. "And escape back out another."

Chapter Eleven

The
–sons
were standing by the lockers, obviously waiting.

Rachel slowed down, wondering if she should just go on to French without her book
or homework, but Madame Roche had been
un peu
peeved at her yesterday for not having her things with her. Madame had even threatened
to call her dad. Rachel had wanted to tell her that wasn't much of a threat, because
he didn't care what she did as long as it wasn't illegal.

But Madame Roche was nice, and Rachel felt bad for torturing her, so she actually
did her homework last night. It'd been lame and easy, but whatever. No way was she
going to take a zero for not doing it just because the
–sons
were waiting—presumably for her.

Sighing, she kept walking toward her locker. Maybe if she ignored them, they wouldn't
exist. Or maybe her new underwear would give her magical powers to zap them away,
or make her invisible.

But Madison stepped right in front of her, hands on her hips, glaring. "I know what
you're doing."

Rachel looked at her locker, directly behind
—son
number one. "Getting my homework?"

Like a well-behaved sidekick, Addison backed up her friend with an equally vicious
look. "FYI, you're not cute."

She rolled her eyes. "Can we cut with the obvious digs and just get to the point?
I'm going to be late for French."

Madison poked her shoulder with a hard, skinny finger.

"
Ow
." Rachel put her hand over the spot and glared at the girl. "What the hell?"

The girl walked up to her, so close Rachel could see the fine outline of her penciled
brows. "Stay away from Aaron Hawke," she said, practically hissing. "You don't have
anything he needs."

"And you know this... how?" Rachel stared at her steadily. "Because you and Aaron
are BFFs?"

"I've known him way longer than you have. We've been in school together
forever
. We've talked about going out a bunch of times, but I wanted to wait."

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the evil
—son
that Aaron
had
talked about her, but not in any sort of loving way. And if Aaron was so into Madison,
why did he ask her over to dinner at his house?

But behind the malevolent light in the girl's gaze, there was hurt. As much as part
of her wanted to exploit that, Rachel couldn't bring herself to pick at it and make
it worse.

So she shrugged. "Whatever."

Both the
–sons
smirked as they got out of her way, but they still hung around as she opened her
locker.

"I don't know what you were worried about, Mads," Addison said. "Aaron would never
choose
her
over you. That's insane."

"I know. But it's better to have clear communication."

Rachel rolled her eyes again, knowing the girls couldn't see her since she faced her
locker. She shut the door, clicked it locked, and stepped around the two witches.
The final bell rang, and she sighed. Great—she was late.

"He could never like someone like her," Madison added. "I bet even her parents wish
they didn't know her. I mean, her mom probably wishes she had a normal, pretty daughter."

"Yeah, I bet her mom totally regrets her."

Rachel stopped in her tracks. For a moment she just felt frozen, stunned that someone
would talk about her mom.

Then the hurt set in. Would her mom want a better daughter? She didn't want to believe
it, but she hadn't been acting her best lately.

Still, she knew her mom, and she knew her mom loved her no matter what. So she whirled
around. "You don't know what you're talking about."

The
–sons
looked at her incredulously, like they couldn't believe she'd spoken to them. "Excuse
me?" Madison said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"You know nothing about my family. You're just acting stupid and petty. Do you think
Aaron's going to like that?"

Addison's jaw dropped as Madison strutted up to her, her mouth set in a mean line.
"Don't even talk about him. I knew him first. Besides, I have way more going for me."

"Like what?" Rachel asked. "Community college?"

Addison gasped.

Madison got directly in her face. "You're just a loser that no one likes. I bet you
don't even have a family. I bet your mom left you, because you were such a loser."

Her fury was quick and sharp. For a moment, Rachel knew she could strangle the evil
—son.

Instead, she chose a different method of revenge. She lifted her chin and looked Madison
in the eye. "If I were such a loser, Griffin Chase wouldn't be using my poem for lyrics
for one of the songs on his upcoming release."

Both the
–sons
gasped, but it was Madison, of course, who spoke. "You're such a liar."

Her heart beat hard with the slight exaggeration. It wasn't an outright lie because
she was going to make it come true. But she wasn't going to show weakness in front
of the
–sons of anarchy,
so she shrugged nonchalantly. "Believe it or not. It's the truth."

She turned on her heels and hurried to French. She was so late, but that was the least
of her worries. She'd just told the mortal enemies that Griffin Chase was going to
use her poem, and she hadn't managed to talk him into it yet.

What had she done?

Chapter Twelve

Grif sat on his makeshift bed in Nicole's living room, Roddy's latest message playing
in his head:
Chase, you're effin' blowing this. The execs are getting nervous.

Well, so was he. He'd had a couple ideas but nothing of quality. His guitar mocked
him from where it rested against the wall across the room.

The closed door of Nicole's room mocked him, too.

They'd hung out with Nicole's roommate that evening, and it'd been fun. Dinner at
home, laughter and discussion. Susan had asked him about the rock star lifestyle,
and he'd teased her about pushing drugs.

It's been nice. Really nice.

Nicole had been quiet, but she'd seemed to have relaxed as the evening went on. At
least he'd thought so until she announced she was retiring to her room.

He stared at the bedroom door. He was desperate to know what was going on in there.
Was she drawing? Was she in bed? Did she have clothes on?

In high school, she'd gone through a phase when she fell asleep in her street clothes.
She'd said then she didn't have to spend the extra minutes getting dressed for school.
He couldn't see her sleeping in her clothes anymore. He saw her sleeping naked.

Not something he should be seeing. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image burned
bright even in the darkness of his mind. Sleek limbs, smooth skin, her shiny smile,
and her dark hair fanning on her pillow.

He
was lusting after his best friend.

It'd caught him by surprise.
He hadn't expected
i
t. He'd thought seeing her would be grounding, like it always had been. But there
was nothing settling about seeing her. He felt off-kilter and confused.

He was dying for another kiss.

The problem was that he wasn't sure Nicole felt the same way, and pushing her too
far could cost him the one person who meant as much to him as his family. He was torn
between respecting her and getting her to take a chance.

A surge of desire made him stand up. One chance, one night. If he didn't try, he'd
always wonder, and he didn't make it a habit to live with regrets. Before he could
talk himself into sense, he strode to her door and opened it.

Startled,
Nicole
looked up from the book she was reading in bed.

Grif
took her in: her mussed hair, her face innocent of makeup, the temptingly bare shoulders
.
He swallowed back the urge to crawl into bed with her and love her with his body.
"What are you doing?"

"What are
you
doing?" Glaring, she pulled the sheets up to her neck. "You used to know how to knock."

Smiling, feeling alive for the first time in forever, h
e knocked on the wall. "Can Nicole come out to play?"

Nicole didn't look amused.
She clutched her book in front of her chest. "It's late. I'm in bed, Grif."

"I see that." He wished he could see more. She had the covers pulled up so all that
was showing was the thin straps of her top. Pink. He wondered if it was a nightgown,
or just a top, and how much was covering the bottom. He tried not to imagine her wearing
the underwear she'd drawn in her sketchpad.

Truthfully, since he'd seen her drawings, he'd had a hard time
not
imagining her in one of those creations. Especially that see-through black one.

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Let's go out."

"Out?" She blinked at him like he spoke a foreign language she didn't understand.
"It's ten-thirty at night."

"Early still. Usually, I'm just getting going right about now."

"But I worked all day." She clutched her book closer to her chest, as if it were armor.
"I'm tired."

He looked at the half-naked couple on the cover and read the title.
Never Love a Highlander
. He smiled. "You still read bodice rippers?"

S
h
e frowned indignantly at him. "They aren't bodice rippers. These are stories of love
and hope."

"A physical book is so old school these days."

"I read
digital
books, too. Ebooks are convenient, but there's something to holding pages in your
hand." She shrugged, and her strap fell off her shoulder.

It took all his willpower not to go to her and fix it. Or touch her skin. Or bury
his face there and breathe her in.

He stepped back
, in case his willpower failed
. "Come on. Get dressed. The night is wasting."

"I'm tired, Grif," she repeated as though he were a child. "I was on my feet all day,
and I just want to stay in bed and read."

It was on the tip of his tongue to invite himself between the sheets with her, but
he bit his tongue and then played the guilt card. "Aren't you supposed to be helping
me compose? Going out will help me."

She glared at him.

"The sooner I get it together, the sooner I'll be out of your hair," he pointed out,
even though the thought didn't sit well with him.

"Fine." She shoved the covers aside.

And then he knew:
shorts. Little frilly pink shorts that showed off her legs.

He stared at them, trying not to think about sliding his hands up her skin. In his
mind they were smooth and soft and would wrap around his waist enthusiastically.

"Get out so I can get dressed," she said grumpily as she rooted on a chair through
clothing piled on a chair in the corner.

"Want me to help?" he asked, not really kidding.

She threw a shirt at his head.

Catching it, he saluted and left the room, closing the door behind him. When it was
shut tight, he lifted the shirt and inhaled. It smelled like her. It smelled delicious.