My Song for You: A Pushing Limits Novel (5 page)

I let out a bitter laugh. “Because once guys see I have a child, they can’t run away fast enough. And I’m not interested in dating a divorced man with kids. Those are the only guys interested in a woman like me.” My voice cracked at the memory of my ex-boyfriend’s final words after he found out I was Logan’s legal guardian and that I refused to put him up for adoption.

Besides, it wasn’t like I required a man in my life. I was a strong, independent woman.

A strong, independent woman who couldn’t stop thinking about the guy she had idolized as a kid—and his heart-melting brown eyes and dimples.

The waitress leaned around me and placed my beer on the table. Her tits, squeezed into a black lace-up corset, brushed against my shoulder. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

I told her I was good, as did the rest of the guys—minus Nolan. Now that he had a serious girlfriend, he tended to hang out with us less than he had before. Why join us when you had a beautiful girl who was more than happy to make you come 24/7?

“What took you so long to get here?” Mason asked me, his booming voice easily heard over the loud rock music.

“I met up with someone I haven’t seen in a while,” I said.

“Who?”

“No one you know.”

A lecherous grin slid onto his face. “Was she at least hot?”

I rolled my eyes. “Who said anything about it being a she?”

“Because it’s the rule that if you’re gonna blow us off, it better be for a hot set of tits.”

Kirk snorted into his beer. “Since when was that a rule?”

“Shit, man,” Mason said, “where have you ladies been? It’s like the unspoken rule everyone knows about.”

“Riiiiight,” Kirk, Aaron, and I said at the same time. I doubt even Nolan was aware of this so-called rule.

“So, are you in violation of the rule or not?” Mason pushed.

“What if I am?”

“Well, according to the rule book—”

“Which none of us have seen,” Aaron pointed out.

“—the violator buys the next round of beer.” Mason crossed his arms, smug in knowing that neither Aaron nor Kirk would argue against the fictitious rule at this particular moment.

“I think it’s a good rule,” Aaron said. Kirk nodded. Traitors.

“What happens if I’m not in violation of this so-called rule? Does the mere fact you’re challenging me mean if the person is a woman, you’re buying me the next round?”

“With great tits,” Mason clarified.

“So, if his mom has a great set of tits,” Kirk said, “that counts?”

“Oh, God,” I groaned. “Do
not
drag my mom into this.”

“No, that doesn’t count,” Mason said.

Kirk smirked. “Good to know.”

“I’m adding to the rule. If the woman is a relative—great tits or not—she doesn’t count.” Mason narrowed his gaze on me. “So, dude, are you buying us the next round or not?”

I laughed. “You haven’t answered my question. If the person is a woman with great tits, are you buying
me
the next round?”

“Definitely.”

“Hey, drummer boy, how will you know if she has great tits?” Kirk was enjoying this conversation a little too much. “I didn’t see Jared walk in with anyone. Did you?”

We all looked at Mason. He scrunched his lips together in thought. I didn’t want to tell them about Callie. I didn’t want him to even think about her that way.

Hell,
I
was trying not to think about her that way.

Good luck with that
. But Callie had been right when she pointed out that her son didn’t need guys entering his life, only to let him down. And my becoming involved with Callie, even just as a friend, would do nothing more than complicate my life and his. None of us needed that.

Least of all me.

“Hi. Aren’t you the drummer of Pushing Limits?” a woman with golden brown skin asked. Her straight black hair, with streaks of red and gold, hung down her back. Her purple dress clung to her curvy body.

“I sure am.” Mason grabbed hold of her hips and pulled her onto his lap. She shrieked at the sudden movement but made no attempt to extricate herself. Instead, her arms went around his neck and she beamed at him.

I could’ve sworn she was an angel sent from heaven to save me from Mason’s line of questioning. Not that I believed in stuff like that. But either way, angel or not, I owed her a drink.

“Congratulations,” Kirk said, “she just saved your ass.”

“I think you’re right.” I knew Kirk wouldn’t push for an answer about whom I’d been meeting with. Other than Nolan, who until recently had been keeping a big secret for the past five years, Kirk was the most private member of the band. Which meant he respected everyone else’s privacy.

I drank some beer and surveyed the area, lit by the dancing spotlights. The club was busy, but that was hardly unexpected for a Saturday night. I didn’t have to look to know there was a huge line to get in. The club wasn’t exclusive, but it was still popular with celebrities and non-celebrities alike. Which meant celebrity sightings didn’t draw the same level of curiosity, unlike in some places. But that didn’t mean the female persuasion weren’t paying attention to us. We were four good-looking guys (five when Nolan was with us). Even before the band started getting radio time, girls were all over us—which often made me wonder if we would’ve done just as well if our looks hadn’t been considered part of the package.

A girl about Callie’s age slid in next to me on the booth seat. Aaron was on the dance floor. Mason was who knew where, doing who knew what, although I had my suspicions. Kirk was standing next to the booth, talking to two large guys. I had caught part of their conversation at one point. Unlike the rest of the band, his conversations weren’t about music. With Kirk, it was often about hockey. In his past life, before becoming a bassist, he’d been headed to play hockey professionally. Even the band had no idea what caused him to switch from hockey to music.

“Hi.” The girl pressed her body against my side, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. “You’re my favorite guitarist of all time.”

Like I’d never heard that line before. I gave her my best smile, one that usually had girls sighing. And this girl was no different. “Thank you.”

“Is Tiffany here?”

“Not that I know of.”

She glanced around, as if expecting the supermodel to emerge from the shadows.

“Do you wanna dance?” I asked, suddenly in the mood to do just that.

“That’s…that’s okay to do?”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

For a second it looked like she would answer, but then she changed her mind and slid out of the booth. I joined her and we headed to the dance floor.

“What’s your name?” I asked. Not that I cared, but it was the polite thing to do.

“Maria.”

As Maria and I moved in time to the music, our bodies pressed together due to the crowded space, only one thought filled my mind: Callie. The two girls were nothing alike. Maria’s dark hair lay straight and long. Her body was that of a dancer, long and lean, and her olive coloring was also the opposite of Callie’s fair skin, with an adorable smattering of freckles across her nose. Maria was sexy as hell and she knew it. The way she moved her body screamed confidence.

Callie was sexy too, but her sexiness wasn’t blatant, like Maria’s. She had an innocence about her that was even more appealing.

I shoved the thought away. Because not only did I
not
need to think about Callie, I’d rather not think about what her innocence meant when it came to other men. If I found her attractive, so would other guys. Maybe one day she would find someone who’d do right by her and her son, and she’d let him into her heart.

For some reason, the thought chilled me from the inside. It was ridiculous, really. Logan was a great kid. He deserved to have a father, someone loving and understanding like my old man, but as long as Callie was afraid of Logan being hurt, she would never take that risk. Her son would always come first for her, to the point of her sacrificing everything else.

Not your problem,
I reminded myself, and focused on Maria instead.

We danced for two more songs. Her hands were all over me, making it clear what she wanted. Only I wasn’t too sure what
I
wanted. Other than another beer.

And then another.

Followed by yet another.

At one point Marisa—or Maria, or whatever her name was—went to the bathroom. No sooner had she left than two girls took her place. I pulled one onto my lap; the other sat next to me. Both explored me with their hands and their lips. Neither seemed bothered by the other girl’s actions.

Marisa or Mary never returned. The waitress brought me another beer. It wasn’t enough to block out my memories of Callie. If anything, the beer made them clearer.

Many things in this world are considered to be the epitome of cruelty. But when the blinding sunlight glares at you through the window because you were too drunk last night to close the fucking curtains, that easily ranks up there on the top of the list.

I groaned and snapped my eyes shut. I vaguely remembered Kirk calling it a night. I vaguely remembered him shoving me into a cab with him. I vaguely remembered stumbling up the stairs to my apartment, because I had insisted on walking up them instead of riding the elevator. And I vaguely remembered someone helping me climb said steps.

But as far as the night went, that was all I could remember, other than a few flashes here and there of dancing, talking to girls, kissing.

I also remembered a couple of other things, but I suspected they had more to do with how much I had drunk last night than reality. Things that my subconscious craved to do to Callie. Erotic things she might not have appreciated if she knew I was thinking about her that way.

Smooth fingertips trailed along my exposed abs and dipped under the sheets covering my hips. Maybe I hadn’t dreamt about fucking Callie last night after all. Maybe she really was here.

I cracked open my eyelids and peered at the blurry vision next to me. Even without blinking my eyesight clear, I could tell the girl in my dreams wasn’t the one lying next to me.

“Morning,” she said, her voice pack-a-day rough.

I blinked her into focus. “Um, hi?”

“How are you feeling?” She smiled sweetly. Shit, why didn’t I remember having sex with her? Even in my dreams, I had imagined Callie’s soft scent. This girl’s perfume was much heavier. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Callie’s scent.

“Thirsty,” I replied.

“I’ll get you some water.”

Before I could say anything, she bounced out of bed in nothing but a black satin thong and bra. I lifted the sheet to discover she wasn’t the only one in her underwear. I still had my boxer briefs on. I let out a relieved breath. If I was drunk enough not to remember fucking her, I would’ve been too drunk to pull my underwear back on afterward.

She returned with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol. “This should help.” She passed me the glass and handed me two pills.

“Thanks.” I tossed back the painkiller and downed the entire glass of water. Luckily my stomach didn’t protest. By the time I was finished, she was under the sheet, her bra no longer on her.

She didn’t waste time sneaking her hand under the covers. It brushed against my dick. I jerked away, putting several feet between us.

Her lips curved into a seductive smile and she scooted closer. “I thought now that you’re sober, we can finish what we started.”

“What exactly is that?” “Sober” was the last word I would’ve used to describe my current state.

She moved her hand to my nipple and pinched it. “What do you think?” she purred.

Her previous words echoed in my head:
We can finish what we started.

“So we never actually fucked last night?”

“No, you were too…um…out of it.” Translation: I couldn’t get it up.

She slid her hand down my chest again. I grabbed her wrist. “Sorry, I have plans.”

That much was true, even if I did want to go back to sleep and wake up once this hangover was over. My family was expecting me in a few hours. Sure, we had plenty of time for what she had planned, but I wasn’t interested in going there.

That wasn’t to say I wasn’t into sex with groupies. Like the other guys in the band, I had taken advantage of what was offered. Not a lot, mind you. I wasn’t a manwhore like Mas. Maybe another time, back before I’d bumped into Callie, I might’ve been interested. Now I couldn’t get excited about the prospect of screwing around with this woman.

A glimpse of the dream from last night repaid me a visit. I turned away from it, telling myself the dream had nothing to do with my decision.

The girl, whose name was a complete blank to me, pouted. Now I vaguely remembered seeing her red-coated lips last night; the color had since faded. Her dark eye makeup was still in place, although now it was smudged. She didn’t look bad, but she did look like she was about to do the walk of shame—even if she had nothing to be ashamed of.

She stroked her fingers against my chest. “I can make it worth your while.”

I released her hand and shifted away from her. “I’m sure you can, but I really do have to be somewhere important.” I gave her an apologetic smile and waited while she gathered her clothes. I had tons of questions about last night but decided to save them for Kirk. She had already answered the big one I’d had. The rest could wait.

I offered to call her a cab. She shook her head and called a friend instead. She did, though, ask for my autograph. After everything, that was the least I could do.

Even though she insisted she was fine waiting on her own, I escorted her downstairs and waited with her.

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” she said as we stood inside the lobby, watching through the glass wall.

“What? Wait until your friend arrives? Sure I do. My mother raised a gentleman.” Although I was sure Mom would’ve had a different opinion of what I’d been last night.

“Your mom sounds like a great woman.”

“She is.”

We didn’t have to wait long before her friend’s black Ford Escort pulled up in front of the building. The girl quickly kissed my cheek. Before I could say anything, she was out the door and climbing into the front passenger seat of her friend’s car.

I returned to my apartment and drank enough water to help rehydrate me, but not enough to cause me to puke. Then I had a long hot shower to remove the stench of beer that I was positive seeped from my pores.

By the time I left for my parents’ place, I looked a lot better than I had when I first woke up. That’s not to say I felt a hundred percent, but it was enough to keep Mom from guessing about my night. As supportive as she and Dad were about my career choice, I knew my playing in a rock band still worried them. They’d heard the stories about all the booze, drugs, and women that came with the territory. It was hard to miss when those three things had led to the demise of so many other bands.

At their house, I parked in the driveway and walked up the flagstone path. Unlike Callie’s parents, who’d moved closer to Callie’s father’s new job shortly after Alexis aborted our child, my parents had never had the desire to move. This place held many great memories. I swear, if my father ever had to move for his job, Mom would’ve found a way to take the house with her.

The front door swung open and my father stepped to the side to let me in. “So, you up for this?”

I grinned at him. Fortunately, my head didn’t hurt so much now. “You better believe it.”

“Good. Lunch is almost ready, then it’s just you, me, and the gazebo.” He said it in a low, conspiratorial voice. I chuckled. I had no doubts whatsoever Mom already knew what we were up to. And if she didn’t, she would find out soon. There was no way could we hide from her that we were building a gazebo. Not unless he had convinced her we were building another tree house, but if there was one thing Mom wasn’t, it was naive.

In the kitchen, Mom was busy laying out the food. A large vase of white tulips sat in the middle of the glass-top table. “Lunch is ready.” She hugged me, and we all took our usual places. “How’s the band doing?”

“Everyone’s doing great. We had the radio station event yesterday.” I filled them in on the day, minus the part about groupies groping me. There were just some details my parents didn’t need to know.

“I can’t believe you’re touring again so soon,” she said. “It feels like you just got back.”

“I know but it’s part of the job. Plus it’s great to be out there and playing to the fans. That’s what it’s all about.” Never mind the part where some of those said fans loved to fling their bras and panties at us.

“I know. It’s just…well, how are you ever going to have a family if you’re always on tour?”

“What, Emma isn’t enough for you?” Emma had recently discovered the fine art of walking, and kept Mom on the run whenever she babysat my niece.

“I want more than one grandchild.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Kristen.” I winked at her.

Mom gave me her standard this-discussion-is-far-from-over look, and I laughed. Dad also laughed. We both knew Mom just wanted me to be happy and would support whatever I decided to do. Even more so if it resulted in grandchildren.

“So, what’s going on with you and…Tiffany these days?” she asked.

“Nothing that will give you grandchildren—I can guarantee that.” I bit into my BLT sandwich.

“But you’re still seeing her?”

I shrugged. “We’re not currently dating. I agreed to be her date to an upcoming event in L.A., but that’s just as a friend.”

Needing to change the current line of questioning, I blurted out, “Hey, you’ll never guess who I bumped into yesterday. Callie Talbert.”

“How’s she and her family doing? I can’t remember the last time I spoke to her mom. Not for a few years at least.”

“Good, I think. Callie has a son now.”

Mom’s eyes widened. “She’s married?” She quickly recovered and laughed softly. “Of course she’s married. Just because she was a tomboy as a kid doesn’t mean she didn’t become a woman.”

“She’s not married.”

“Engaged?”

I shook my head.

“But the child’s father is still in the picture, right?”

Brilliant move, asshead.
I had meant to distract Mom from her line of questioning about me providing her with more grandchildren. I hadn’t meant to freak her out about Callie and Logan and their well-being.

“I don’t think so.”

“Is there any guy in the picture to take care of them?”

I shook my head even though it would’ve been a better idea if I had lied and told her that there was. Or, better yet, if I had just kept my mouth shut to begin with. “But you don’t have to worry about her. She’s doing fine.”

“How could she be fine looking after a child on her own? The boy needs a father.”

“I’m sure her own father is doing a great job.”

“Jared’s right,” Dad said. “Gary and Violet aren’t the type of parents who wouldn’t step in and help out. They’ll be a great role model for the child until Callie can find the right man for her and her son.”

Reluctantly Mom agreed. Dad had a point. “So you and Callie are friends again?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I haven’t decided if I’ll see her again…as a friend.” I hastily added the last part before Mom got any ideas. “We’re both busy with our own lives, and we’re different people than we were back when we were kids.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with her being a single mom, would it?” Mom said, her gaze piercing my soul. I loved my mother, but she had a way of wringing the truth out of you with just that look.

“No, I really am busy with the band.” And there was also that matter of Callie not wanting me to be part of her and Logan’s life.

“What are the touring plans this time?” Dad asked, and I could’ve hugged him for the change in topic.

I spent the next few minutes explaining everything the band’s manager had told us so far about the next couple of months. We still didn’t know, though, which band we were opening for. The label was being very hush-hush about it.

Mom didn’t bring up Callie or Logan again, maybe realizing I really was too busy for them. And maybe realizing that being in a band wasn’t conducive to having a family—not that I planned on becoming a family with Callie and Logan.

After lunch, Dad and I disappeared into the backyard and began constructing the gazebo. It was hard work, but both of us were in good shape, which made the job a little easier. Any talking between us was kept to a minimum, our attention focused solely on building the large wooden structure. I didn’t have a chance to let my mind drift to Callie.

By the time we finished several hours later, we were covered in sweat and our muscles ached.

“What do you think?” Dad asked as we stood in front of the gazebo, studying it.

“Looks good.” I wasn’t just saying that. Like everything we worked on together, we had taken our time to ensure it was perfect. My father and grandfather had taught me the value of working hard and not settling for less—a lesson I put to good use when it came to writing songs.

We were still examining the structure when my sister and brother-in-law joined us. Kristen was lugging three bright green cushions with daisies embroidered on them. Craig had a bottle of beer in each hand and handed them to Dad and me. The hangover from this morning had long since been sweated away, and the cold beer couldn’t have been more welcome.

“Wow, it looks amazing,” Kristen said, after arranging the last of the oversized cushions. Between the large, dark-wood coffee table and Kristen’s decorating know-how, the gazebo resembled one straight from a home-style magazine. She was right. It did look amazing.

Mom walked out of the house, carrying Emma. The smile on Mom’s face made all the hard work worth it. “What do you think?” she asked her granddaughter.

Emma hugged the bear I’d given her a few months ago and flashed me my favorite grin, complete with the dimples Kristen and I had inherited from Dad.

“Hey, pipsqueak.” I ruffled the fine dark hair on her head. I was rewarded with my favorite giggle.

After excusing myself, I disappeared into the bathroom and showered. I’d missed a lot of things while on tour, but the weekly Sunday dinners with my family ranked at the top of the list.

I returned a short time later and placed a gift bag next to where Emma sat, sandwiched between her mom and grandmother on the gazebo bench. “This is for you.”

My sister sighed. “You don’t have to spoil her, you know.”

“Sure I do. I’m her uncle. It’s in the job contract.” I helped Emma remove her gift from the bright-colored bag.

With a little encouragement, she ripped off the tissue paper the salesclerk had wrapped it in, revealing the toy guitar. She then patiently waited while I removed it from the box. The way the toy was packaged, you’d had thought it held important FBI secrets. Eventually I freed it and demonstrated how to use it. Designed for a toddler, it was nothing like my guitars, but it did make musical sounds when played—loud musical sounds that Emma enjoyed making every time she pressed the buttons.