Strike a Chord, page 6
She unlinked their fingers and spun around to face him. “You want to see where things go?”
“Don’t you?”
She nodded. “I-I do.”
“Good. Because I like you. I like your kid and I think we were meant to meet on that ferry. I don’t believe in coincidences. I think things happen for a reason. And I was meant to meet you.”
She cupped his jaw and brought her lips to his. “I’m so glad I met you.”
They kissed for a while but things never went past that. Then, he held her and it felt good to have his arms around somebody again. And when she fell asleep in his arms, that was the biggest compliment she could ever give him. To feel that he was safe enough for her to truly let go.
He didn’t want to push things, and he certainly didn’t want to upset Levi, so once he knew she was asleep, he pulled on flannel pajama pants and a white T-shirt, then headed downstairs to the couch. It was toasty with the woodstove right there, so he just needed a light blanket. He was asleep in minutes, dreaming about a beautiful blonde woman wearing nothing but his guitar and a smile.
Six months later …
“You’ve got the last one?” Jennifer asked him as they unloaded the back of his truck where it was parked against the curb in front of Block 9 gallery in Vancouver.
Dax closed the canopy and grinned at her. “Yep.” He had the big three-by-six painting that he’d been working on when they first met, covered in protective paper, while she had a bunch of prints and a few smaller originals in her arms. He rushed ahead. “I’ve got the door.” Then he tossed her a wink when she walked through.
“Ooohh, what have you brought me?” Amy cooed, coming out of the back room looking as chic and put together as ever with her charcoal pantsuit, white blouse, black bob, and bright red lipstick.
Dax grinned at her, set down the painting in his hand and gave her a platonic hug. “You know me. I save the best for Block 9.”
“I should hope so.” Her gaze flitted to Jennifer and her smile widened.
“Amy, this is Jennifer. Jennifer, Amy.”
Amy’s smile was genuine and the way her amber eyes glittered like whiskey in candlelight said she was delighted to see Dax with someone. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand.
Jennifer did the same. “You, too. I’ve heard a lot about your gallery.”
Amy flicked her eyes to Dax and something quick, but poignant passed behind her natural sparkle. She knew Dax had told Jennifer more than just information about the gallery.
Amy glanced toward the back room where she’d come from. “James, Em, come see what our cash cow has brought us.”
Dax snorted as Amy started to rip into the protective paper like a kid on Christmas.
“Now, this one was originally a commission, but I scraped it, set it aside and started the commission over again because I just wasn’t feeling it. Then, about a month ago, I returned to this with new ideas and finished it.” He removed the remaining paper and Amy propped the canvas up just as a gasp behind them pulled their attention.
“That’s beautiful,” came a breathy female voice. “Jennifer?”
Jennifer spun around. “E-Emma. Hi.”
James, a tall, dark, blue-eyed man that commanded the attention of everyone in the room, instantly pulled his wife close to him and they paused several feet away. His gaze flicked to Dax’s, questioning what the fuck was going on.
“I should explain,” Dax said quickly.
“Yeah, you should,” James said, his voice stern.
“Jennifer and I met six months ago on the ferry from Vancouver to Nanaimo. Her battery died, I gave her a jump.”
“Then my SUV was hit by a Tesla in a winter storm and Dax helped us to the hospital and drove us home.” She glanced up at Dax and wrapped her arm around his waist. “When the power went out, he invited Levi, my landlords and I to come stay with him for the night because he has a generator and woodstove. And,” she smiled, “we’ve been together ever since.”
“I’m assuming you realized the strange connection you two have earlier than now?” James asked.
Dax and Jennifer both nodded.
“Right away,” Dax confirmed. “But, Amy and I are good. And Tom is in prison and Jennifer and Emma are good, so we saw no reason for us not to pursue this relationship.”
“You didn’t think to give us a head’s up?” James lifted a brow.
“It’s none of our business,” Emma said, giving her husband a dirty look. Then she broke out of his embrace and came to Jennifer. “You look so happy. I’m really glad you found someone.” She wrapped her arms around Jennifer. “You deserve nothing but happiness.”
James’s gaze met Dax’s and it remained hardened for a moment before the man finally nodded and stepped forward, extending his hand to Dax. “This is a nice piece.”
Dax shook his hand and they glanced at the big piece Amy was ogling again.
Jennifer and Emme broke their embrace and they all stared at his painting.
“It’s gorgeous,” Emma purred. “I love it.”
“Let’s look at his other goodies,” Amy said. “Ooooh, I’m like a kid on Christmas morning.”
James snorted as she ripped the paper off the rest.
They spent about an hour at the gallery. Amy, of course said she wanted to do another art show highlighting Dax’s work because he always brought in a lot of money and publicity for the gallery. They talked dates and logistics and he left with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face.
Levi was with Jennifer’s family for the day, they were going to Science World, so that left Dax and Jennifer with time to themselves.
He brought her to one of his favorite restaurants down in the inner harbor and they sat out on the deck beneath the warm April sun, enjoying a beer each, and some fresh shucked oysters.
“I think that went okay,” she said, squeezing lemon onto an oyster. “James is intense, but he’s not a bad guy. Emma’s got him under control.” She snorted. “Well, as much as a guy like that can be.”
He nodded and sipped his beer. “I knew we’d see them eventually.”
“Are you excited for the show?”
“Always. My band usually plays at it, too.” He made an amused noise in his throat. “The first show I had there and I suggested the band play, nearly sent Amy into cardiac arrest. She was like, ‘This is not how we do things at Block 9.’ But she came around.”
They stared out at the boats coming and going and the gulls dipping and diving on the breeze. He reached for her hand after she slurped back an oyster, and she met his gaze, her smiling outshining the sun.
“Move in with me,” he said. “You and Levi.”
Her eyes widened.
“It just makes sense. You’re at my house all the time anyway. Levi has his own room there.” His lips twisted. “I don’t like the nights you’re not in my bed.”
“I don’t like it, either.”
“Then move in with me.”
She nodded. “I’ll have to run it past Levi.”
That made him laugh. “The kid has been begging to move to the property since December. I don’t think he’ll need any convincing.”
“What about Phil and Gloria?”
“I’ve been thinking about them and they really shouldn’t be in a house with stairs for much longer. Phil already has some mobility issues. What about building them a tiny house on the back of the property? It’s already got water and septic hooked up and is zoned for a second residential building like a carriage house.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugged. “They’ve become our surrogate parents. Yours aren’t involved, mine are dead, and they don’t have kids. We’ve built our own family. And family takes care of family.”
Tears sprung to her eyes and she smiled. “I love that idea.”
“Awesome. Then we’ll bring the idea up to them when we get back. We could even buy one of those prefabricated tiny homes and just move it onto the property so we don’t have to wait for it to be built. Or maybe they’d prefer a log cabin?”
With a chuckle, she swept away a tear. “So we’re going to do this? Move in together?”
“I think it makes sense. I’m in love with you. You’re in love with me. The sex is great. Why not take the next step?”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“When I feel the way I feel about you, it is simple. Your kid is great. You are great. And I think we could have a great life together as a family. I still really want a dog, though.”
She nodded. “Okay, then. Move in together. Buy a tiny house for Phil and Gloria and get a dog that doesn’t want to kill the chickens. We’re doing this.”
“We’re doing this.”
Then he stood up, leaned over the table and kissed her.
He was her safe place, and she was his. And together they were going to have a long, and beautiful life. Because they’d done the work, and they both deserved it.
Want to meet Dax BEFORE he met Jennifer? Grab True, Deep and Forever to learn more about his past.
Grab it here—> https://books2read.com/true-deep-and-forever-part-1
Or go here to meet Jennifer before she met Dax —> https://books2read.com/SHH1-DDH
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Thank you again.
Xoxo
Whitley Cox
Want to meet Dax BEFORE he met Jennifer? Grab True, Deep and Forever to learn more about his past.
True, Deep and Forever
Grab it here—> https://books2read.com/true-deep-and-forever-part-1
Amy and Garret
CHAPTER ONE
Dream or reality? Sometimes when you’re that deep in sleep, you can’t always tell. Though my delightful reverie involving Ryan Reynolds and myself sharing a bar of chocolate in the backseat of a taxi whilst driving though the mountains sure as heck seemed real. Until the shrill sound of a wailing baby infiltrated the wonderful moment and caused Ryan to disappear, taking my chocolate with him.
The clock said four forty-five in the morning. Jesus, child, would it kill you to sleep in now and then? God, I missed the newborn days when they slept for like twenty hours a day. I sat up and looked at the mound of man sleeping next to me. His bald head with its five o’clock shadow peeked out from beneath the duvet; a light rumbling snore vibrated in his throat. His mouth was half-cocked open, with the bum-chin trembling ever so slightly on each inhale.
Must be nice to be such a sound sleeper. The whole damn Vienna Boys Choir could be playing with cymbals in here, and Garret would sleep through the entire thing.
″Don’t worry,” I said, louder than necessary. “I’ll get up. It’s not like I have to be at work this morning.”
″Hmmmm,” he moaned, rolling over and offering me a view of his nice muscular back, causing a pang of guilt to soar through me at my initial thought. He’d worked really late last night so that he could take Friday off, crawling into bed ever so quietly after the rest of the house had gone to sleep. All so that we could go over to Victoria this weekend for my brother’s wedding. I shouldn’t really begrudge him a few hours of sleep.
And yet I did.
″Mumma, mumma, mumma, mumma … ” And then, “Wahhhhhhhhh.”
″I’m coming,” I whispered, throwing back the covers, then snatching the robe that was lying haphazardly across the foot of the bed. “I’m coming, baby.” I opened the door to Henry’s room, and red-rimmed, green eyes stared up at me as he stood in his crib gripping the bars like a convict. His mop of curly brown hair stuck up in every direction.
″Mumma, mumma,” he said, trying to climb the bars but failing. His blue and yellow rhinoceros sleep sack impeded his efforts.
″All right, all right, angel-pie. Are you hungry?” I cooed, scooping him up and carrying him to the glider in the corner of the room. I popped out a boob with my free hand while he perched on my left hip.
″Mummmmma!” he cried, pulling at my tank top, frantically trying to get at the goods.
″Hold your horses, you little junkie. I’m going as fast I can. You’re not going to starve.”
As I cradled him in my lap, his mouth deftly found my nipple, and he began frantically sucking, while his hands came up and he held on to my breast as if it were a bottle, eyes fluttering shut with a contented sigh.
The first thing people usually said when they saw Henry was what beautiful eyes he had and how striking the contrast was with his darker skin and afro-esque hair. A “real chick-magnet” or “heartbreaker,” and I was sure they’d be right. My son was absolutely gorgeous. What with his father’s darker-colored skin and leafy green eyes, he was a looker, all right.
But all I saw was my sweet baby, cherubic and pudgy and perfect in every way, and I wanted him to stay that way for as long as he possibly could. I allowed my eyes to close as he continued to nurse, the whole experience calming and enjoyable.
”You want me to take over?” came a groggy voice from the door. Garret stood tall in the doorway, clad only in his plaid Fruit of the Loom boxers, knuckling the sleep out of his eyes just like his son did when he was tired. He was a handsome specimen of a man, my husband, with cyclist’s legs, toned arms and bright green eyes that seemed to shine in the glow from Henry’s ocean-themed night light, to match his ocean-themed room. His stomach was not as taut and chiseled as it’d once been—he’d put on what he liked to refer to as “sympathy weight” while I was pregnant, indulging in my ice cream sandwich cravings right along with me. But even with a bit of a dad belly, he was still damn fine.
″You lactate now, do you?” I asked, a small smile curving up at the corner of my mouth. Henry’s eyelashes trembled against his pink cheek at the sound of his father’s voice, but they didn’t open. He was off in a milky dream.
Garret rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. I can put him back down when you’re done if you’d like to go grab some more sleep. Or I can take him downstairs if he’s up.”
″I think he’ll probably go back down for another hour or so,” I said. “But thank you. You go back to bed. You look like hell.”
″Thanks.” He yawned, stretching up and grabbing hold of the doorjamb before turning around and heading back to bed.
A few minutes later Henry popped himself off and snuggled into my chest, his little mouth making the perfect O shape while a tiny stream of milk ran down from the corner of his lips. After laying him down in his crib and making sure he wasn’t going to just pop right back up, I headed back to my own room, determined to catch even thirty more minutes of shuteye before I was forced to start the day.
Pulling the covers up to my chin, I closed my eyes. I was just drifting off when a warm arm snaked around my torso and pulled me across the bed until my body lay shrouded by a dominating frame. I wrapped my arm over his and melted into him, welcoming the warmth and comfort of his big body. And once again sleep was just about to claim me, beckoning me into its delicious embrace, when I felt the all too familiar poke of arousal on my butt and a curious hand wandered over my body and beneath my pajamas.
I moaned. “Really?”
″It’s been ages. Come on.” He growled, leaning over and biting my earlobe, a gesture that generally revved my engines but was doing nothing for me at the moment.
″Fine,” I mumbled. “Just try not to wake me in the process.”
″That’s no fun,” he purred, shimmying out of his boxers and diving beneath the covers, flipping me onto my back. “Come on, Ames, out of those jammies, I want to see if I can beat my record.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
I had to admit it, my husband was an incredibly skilled lover, and his tongue work was unsurpassed. Before Henry joined the team, Garret was able to get me screaming his name and bucking wildly into his face in under a minute, all with the flick and roll of his tongue and some well-placed fingers.
But ever since Henry, things had been different. Sex wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t as enjoyable, at least not for me. The birth hadn’t been easy, and now … things were not so easy.
So, even though I was all healed up now, and the doc had given the go-ahead many months ago that it was okay to get jiggy with my hubby, I certainly wasn’t enjoying things the way I used to. No one told me that after you have a baby, you have to re-learn how to have sex. That you’re essentially a teenager in high school again, figuring out how to orgasm and fumbling around with your lover quietly in the dark, choosing ten minutes of “pleasure” over ten minutes of sleep.
Only this time you’re trying not to wake the baby instead of your parents or the neighbors in the unit next door. You and your man pant and kiss and bump uglies under the covers, because God forbid he actually sees your body, all jiggly and lumpy in its depressive postpartum state. Meanwhile, milk squirts him in the eye as he kneads your engorged breasts.
Oh yeah, so hot!
And don’t even get me started on lubrication! Normally Garret would just have to look at me the right way and I’d be a slick mess in my pants. Now I was as dry as a fucking desert. Just call me Sahara or Gobi or … those were the only deserts I could think of right now, but you know what I mean.
What used to be fun foreplay was now like heading into the salt mines. If he wanted to get me off, it was hard work and hours of repetition.
But I let him try, and try he did. His diligent tongue worked my clit until it was achy and needy. Tiny circles and long lavish licks up my cleft left me a squirming, panting mess. I was seconds from reaching my destination when a screech over the baby monitor jolted me to attention and out of my loopy, lusty dreamland.
″Waahhhhhh, mum, mum, mum, mum … ” I could practically hear the tears streaming down his little cheeks. I was pretty sure he was teething again. I tossed back the covers and motioned to get out of the bed, only instead Garret pulled my legs down and covered my body, impaling me in one solid thrust.
