Thrill Me (One Night with Sole Regret Book 9) Page 17

  His jog home was a bit slow—he’d expended too much energy at the gym—but he felt better. He let himself into his house through the mudroom and found Lindsey in the kitchen nook, scouring a newspaper with a pen between her teeth. Should he apologize for barging in on her when she’d been getting out of the shower or just pretend it had never happened?

  Her eyes lifted from the newspaper, and the pen tumbled from her mouth as her jaw dropped and she gawked at him.

  “Sorry, I must reek,” he said, suddenly self-conscious about his soaked clothes and his sweat-drenched hair that was probably sticking out in all directions. He lifted the hem of his shirt to dab sweat off his face, hoping to make himself marginally presentable.

  “You look . . .” She swallowed. “Really hot.”

  He wasn’t sure if she meant hot as in attractive or in the sense that he was overheated and dripping sweat, so he said, “I’m going to jump in the shower. We need to leave in a couple of hours.”

  She pulled her gaze from him and moved it to the thick Sunday newspaper in front of her. “I found a couple of jobs in here that I’m qualified for.”

  “That’s great,” he said.

  “You want breakfast? I can make eggs or something.” She refused to look at him for some reason.

  “That would be awesome. Thanks.”

  He hurried upstairs and took a cool shower. He was in a fantastic mood by the time he was dried off and dressed. He hoped Caitlyn was awake. It was Monday, and her vacation was supposedly over, so she probably had to work. He dialed her cell number.

  “I’m not supposed to talk to you for another eight hours,” she said. He could hear background noise—road noise, maybe. A car honked. He decided she was in the car, most likely braving Houston morning traffic.

  “Why eight hours?”

  “I promised Jenna I wouldn’t call you for twenty-four hours. That was at around six last night. It’s now a little after ten. Eight hours.”

  He chuckled. “You’re good at math.”

  “I actually have a countdown timer on my phone.”

  He laughed again, surprised it was so easy to talk to her. He’d imagined this conversation being a lot more difficult. Of course, they hadn’t said anything important yet. “I want to see you,” he said. “Soon.”

  “Don’t you have to go to New Orleans for a show tonight?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You can meet me there.”

  “I’d have to skip work to pull that off.”

  “So? You’re the boss. You can take off whenever you want.”

  “Actually . . .” Her voice faded before she yelled, “Get the fuck out of the fast lane, Grandpa! You’re making me later than I already am.”

  Owen heard the loud blare of a horn and the roar of the Camaro’s engine as she maneuvered around Grandpa.

  “Actually,” she repeated, now speaking to Owen again, “I can’t take time off because I’m the boss. People depend on me.”

  “Oh,” he said flatly.

  “So I’m thinking of taking on another partner—an engineer who can do some of the tasks I do. That way I can take more time off work. Eventually. That can’t happen overnight.”

  He was probably jumping to conclusions by thinking she was considering that step so she could spend more time with him, but he couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t have mentioned it if it wasn’t related to him in some way, would she?

  “Owen, your eggs are getting cold,” Lindsey called from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Be down in a minute.”

  “Where you are?” Caitlyn asked.

  “I’m at home.”

  “And there’s a woman in your house concerned about your cold eggs?”

  “It’s just Lindsey,” he said.

  “She’s staying at your house?”

  Owen ruffled his hair with his towel one last time before tossing it into the hamper. “I don’t want to talk about Lindsey. I want to talk about us.”

  “I thought she was at your mom’s.”

  “She was, but circumstances changed and—”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “What? No, she needed a place—”

  “Don’t call me again, Owen.”

  The phone went dead in his ear and going against her final demand, he immediately dialed her number again.

  “I said don’t fucking call me!” Caitlyn answered and then hung up on him before he could get in a single word.

  “Owen!” Lindsey called up at him. “Are you coming?”

  He growled at his phone and shoved it into his pocket before thundering down the steps. He glared at Lindsey—the reason for all of his problems—and she skittered back. “Sorry to rush you,” she said.

  “Caitlyn heard you.”

  “You were talking to Caitlyn? I thought she dumped you.”

  “Apparently she hadn’t, but thanks to you, she has now.”

  He strode into the kitchen with Lindsey tagging along behind him. He stopped at the edge of the table, already feeling guilty for snapping at her.

  “I didn’t mean to cause you problems,” she said.

  He knew that, and he couldn’t be mad at her. She’d made him a breakfast of scrambled eggs, sliced tomatoes, toast, and orange juice. Her identical plate sat beside his untouched, growing cold while she waited for him to join her.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said before he sat down. “I’ll get things with Caitlyn sorted out.” After he got some food in his belly, he’d text Caitlyn and explain everything to her. She’d demanded that he didn’t call her—she hadn’t said anything about sending text messages.

  About halfway through breakfast, his phone dinged with a message. He knew it was rude to check his phone while he was sharing a pleasant meal with Lindsey, but he couldn’t help himself. The message was from Caitlyn.

  Don’t text me either, Owen. I mean it. I’ll talk to you when I’m ready to talk to you. Not before.

  His shoulders dropped, and he sighed as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He was really in the doghouse here, and he hadn’t done anything wrong. Unless taking your baby mama to a late night movie and seeing her naked was wrong. He didn’t think they counted since nothing had happened between him and Lindsey. Seeing her nude hadn’t even given him a stiffy. But how could he assure Caitlyn of the platonic state of his relationship with his new roomie if she wouldn’t take his calls or read his texts?

  “Maybe I should send her flowers again,” Owen said.

  “She’s stupid,” Lindsey said, nibbling on her toast. “You deserve better. She should be nicer to you.”

  Her I would be nicer to you was left unspoken, but Owen could read it in the way she leaned closer to him, as if he needed her to offer comfort.

  “She’s great, you know,” Owen said. “If she wasn’t, I wouldn’t give two shits that she dumped me.” And he still wasn’t clear on that little detail. Was there potential for them to reconcile? He had to believe there was, or he’d end up doing something really idiotic—like waiting naked for her in her office with a rose clamped between his teeth.

  Desperately wanting to change the topic of conversation—he didn’t need or want relationship advice from Lindsey—he asked, “So what did you find in the paper?”

  “There’s a bank teller job I could do. It doesn’t pay well, but has benefits.”

  “Were you a bank teller before?” She might have told him months before, but if she had, he’d forgotten.

  “I started as one, then I trained to be an investment broker. I’d finally found my stride and was making good money for the bank when my boss found out about—” She folded her arms around her middle and hunched forward. “Well, you know. And she fired me.”

  “She fired you for fucking a rock band?” He’d heard of some pretty stupid reasons to fire someone, but that had to take the grand prize.

  “She fired me because she’s always hated me. She used my reputation—it being bad for business—as her excuse to get rid of me
. I’m from a small town with two banks. She’s the president of one, and guess who’s the president of the other?”

  “Her?”

  “Might as well be. It’s her good ol’ boy daddy, who should have retired about twenty years ago. The man is eighty years old.”

  “Hey, I plan to still be rocking the stage on my bass when I’m eighty.”

  “That would be awesome—Sole Regret, the geriatric years.” She giggled. “I’d definitely pay to see that.”

  Owen smiled. He liked making her laugh. She’d been so anxious and defensive since she’d shown up with her baby on board, he’d honestly wanted to dump her off on his mother and never interact with her again. She’d been super fun and adventurous when they’d shared that wild night of sex on the tour bus on Christmas Eve—no holds barred and anything goes. Still, he supposed any woman in her current position would be anxious and defensive. But she didn’t have to feel that way around him.

  She glanced at the time and squeezed out from behind the table, collecting her plate and putting it in the sink. She turned on the water to clean the skillet, but Owen jumped up from the table and nudged her aside. “You cooked; I’ll get the dishes.”

  “But—”

  “I insist. Plus my mom would skin me if she knew I made you cook and do the dishes.”

  “You didn’t make me,” Lindsey said, her thick lashes shielding her wide blue eyes. “I wanted to.”

  She wanted to what, play Susie Homemaker? With him? And in the house she’d told him was perfect for raising kids? He shuddered.

  “Uh, why don’t you see if you can figure out how to get your car back?” he suggested. “Call Oklahoma State Patrol. They should be able to tell you how to proceed.”

  She nodded slightly and then sat down with her cellphone to look up the appropriate phone numbers online. She was talking with someone when he went upstairs to pack a bag and collect dirty clothes to throw in a load of laundry.

  When he came back down, Lindsey followed him into the mudroom to watch him load the washing machine.

  “Did you know they dispose of vehicles if they aren’t claimed within thirty days and if they do, you still have to pay all the impound and storage fees in cash?”

  “That’s to encourage you to get your piece of junk out of their hair as quickly as possible.”

  She scowled at him. “It’s not a piece of junk. I ran out of gas.”

  “And then hitched a ride with a trucker.”

  “Don’t remind me of how stupid I was. I was running on pure adrenaline at that point. I had to get to Houston before you guys took off for your next tour stop.”

  She just couldn’t wait to find them and ruin some lives. Owen mentally slapped himself; it wasn’t fair to blame her for how things had turned out. He was ashamed of himself for even thinking she was trying to ruin anyone.

  “I need to get to the airstrip.” He’d arrive extra early, but maybe someone else in the band was as desperate to leave home as he was. He was drowning in estrogen here.

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  “I hope you can drive a stick.” He hadn’t even wondered if she could handle the Jeep’s standard transmission.

  “If I have to,” she said.

  She ground only two gears before she dropped him off in the parking lot where the band members usually parked their cars to catch a chartered flight. He was the first one there, but didn’t mind waiting. Adam had stayed in New Orleans, and Kelly would be driving from Galveston, so it was no surprise when neither of them showed up, but as the small plane arrived and they allowed him to board, he was surprised that Gabe and Jacob hadn’t turned up yet.

  As their scheduled departure time got closer and closer, he began to worry. He squeezed through the narrow aisle and stuck his head into the cockpit. “Where is everyone?” he asked the copilot, who was scowling at a clipboard.

  “Well, the tall guy—what’s his name?”

  Gabe and Jacob were both well over six feet, but Gabe was of thinner build and so seemed much taller than broad-shouldered Jacob. “Gabe?”

  “Mohawk guy.”

  “Yeah, that’s Gabe.”

  “He and his girlfriend went back to New Orleans last night. Some emergency.”

  Owen’s heart dropped. “What kind of emergency?”

  “They didn’t share details. I think it had something to do with a friend of the woman’s. I don’t know for sure, but she was extremely upset.”

  “Did Jacob leave with them?”

  “Nope. We’re still waiting for him.”

  “So it’s just me and Jacob on this trip?”

  “Assuming he shows up.”

  Of course Jacob would show up. He was the most responsible, driven member of the band. Hell, he’d missed the birth of his own daughter to keep Adam from dying of an overdose. Jacob was the guy they could all depend on. He always did what was right.

  “I’ll just sit and wait then,” Owen said. He took a moment to call Gabe to see if he could help with the emergency the copilot had mentioned. When Gabe didn’t answer, he left a voicemail and also sent him a text to assure him that he could ask Owen for help—no matter what the emergency—if he needed anything.

  Jacob eventually entered the plane, and Owen beamed at him, glad he finally had a friend to talk to. Since Jacob brushed past without so much as a howdy and plopped into a seat at the back, Owen unfastened his seat belt and moved to the seat across from him.

  “Have a good weekend?” Owen asked.

  “Most of it,” Jacob said, not so much as glancing Owen’s way. He was obviously in a bad mood. “Where’s Gabe?”

  Owen shrugged. “The pilot said he flew back last night. I have no idea why.”

  When Jacob didn’t comment, Owen tried broaching the subject of his situation with Caitlyn. Maybe Jacob had a suggestion on how to proceed. He was always smooth with the ladies. “Well, I’m in the doghouse, but—”

  “I’m going to catch a nap,” Jacob interrupted.

  Owen ignored the sting of Jacob’s rejection. Still, he needed an actual bro to talk to, yet now that the plane was taxiing, he couldn’t even call or text Kelly. Owen realized too late that he should have contacted Kelly while he’d been waiting for Jacob to board.

  “Uh, okay,” Owen said. “I wonder what Kelly’s up to.”

  While Jacob pretended to sleep, which was pretty hurtful, Owen occupied himself with a shooter game on his phone. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to be back on the road so much in his life. He usually treasured his time at home, but he needed the normal give and take of the band and the routine of playing. Maybe he’d get to talk to his brother this evening; Chad’s calls from Afghanistan always cheered him up. And he’d get to see Kelly soon. That also cheered Owen up. They rarely spent a day apart, and Owen legit missed the guy.

  In New Orleans, after a bit of a mix-up at the hotel’s front desk—Adam apparently had their keycards—he and Jacob went upstairs. Jacob seemed a bit more amenable to conversation in the elevator, but Owen no longer felt like sharing his problems with the jerk, so he decided to wait in his room until the concert.

  Once there, he checked his messages—one from his mom asking if he knew anyone who could get Lindsey’s car in Oklahoma and one from Lindsey saying she hadn’t completely destroyed his transmission but that she’d feel more comfortable driving her own vehicle. No messages from Kelly or Caitlyn. Since he was forbidden to contact Caitlyn, he called Kelly. When Kelly answered, Owen could hear road noise in the background.

  “Glad you called. I was getting really bored,” Kelly said.

  “How far out are you?” Owen didn’t mind talking on the phone, but he much preferred face to face conversations.

  “I got a late start this morning,” he said. “If traffic cooperates, I should get there about an hour before we go onstage.”

  “Oh.” That sucked.

  “How are you holding up?” Kelly asked. “I know what you’re like after a chick dumps you.”


  “She didn’t dump me. At least I don’t think she did. I’m not sure. She’s none too happy about Lindsey living with me.”

  “Lindsey is living with you? I thought Mom was going to take her in.” Kelly had called Owen’s mother Mom since he’d been in junior high.

  “She tried. My parents were going to rent the apartment to her.”

  “That’s a nice place.”

  “Was a nice place.” Owen caught Kelly up on the mold situation and ended by telling him that Caitlyn had overheard Lindsey calling him down to breakfast.

  “Well, you know how you could have avoided the entire situation.”

  “How?”

  “Told her up front that Lindsey was living with you and not tried to hide it.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hide it. Lindsey wasn’t staying at my place when I’d last spoken with Caitlyn. Circumstances changed.”

  “So you really want to make this thing with Caitlyn work?”

  “I do.”

  Kelly sighed. “Whatever makes you happy. I’m stopping for gas now. I’ll see you when I get into New Orleans.”

  “Okay,” Owen said. He didn’t realize he hadn’t asked Kelly about his weekend with Dawn until they hung up. They’d have plenty of time to catch up later.

  Owen was drifting in and out of sleep across the hotel bed when his phone rang. He was absolutely stunned to see the caller was Caitlyn. He glanced at the clock radio—exactly six p.m. Wasn’t that when she’d said she was allowed to call?

  “Hello?” he answered. “Caitlyn?”

  “Okay, I have a list of all the things I want to say to you,” she said, her words rushed, as if she’d lose her nerve if she didn’t blurt everything out at once. “Please hold your questions and comments until the end.”

  He laughed at her making a list—it was definitely something she’d do—and at her treating a phone call like a press conference.

  “Number One,” she said.