“You’ve got yogurt in your hair.”
“He threw it at me.” Shoulders slumped, I sat on the carpet, some godawful children’s show blaring from the TV. “I can’t do this. The kid hates me.”
“Martha.” Sam sighed. “He’s two and a half and doesn’t even know you. Give it a chance.”
The he in question, Gibson Thunderbird Rollins-Nicholson, stared rapt at the screen as animated dogs pulled off a daring rescue. Crazy name for a little kid. Being born a musician’s progeny clearly came with the risk of being named after their favourite instrument. Meanwhile, the executive protection officer leaned against a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. A small towel was slung over one buff shoulder and he wore workout gear. Guess he’d been making use of the private gym.
Ben and Lizzy hadn’t stinted on the place. A sprawling Georgian Colonial in one of the fancier areas of Portland. Of course, the former ballroom/indoor basketball court had been converted into a recording studio and band practice area. My brother only really cared about two things, music and family, so no big surprise about the remodelling. Not that I’d been counting on them throwing any large parties to keep me entertained. Those wild days of groupies, models, and film stars hanging around and swinging off the chandeliers were long gone. Probably for the best.
“David was right, I don’t know a thing about children,” I said, feeling deeply sorry for myself. “I figured I spent years running around after rock stars, catering to their every whim. How different could it be? So he’s shorter and doesn’t know how to express himself particularly well. All Mal ever did was babble incoherently at me. Some days I basically had to wipe the drool off that maniac’s chin. After him, Gibson should be a dream, right?”
“Not so much, huh?”
“Not so much.”
“What’s wrong with your eye? It’s a bit red,” he asked, leaning closer.
“Huh? Oh, it got yogurt in it too,” I lied, turning away. “I’ve been rubbing it.”
“Ah.”
Thank goodness my thick makeup covered the rest of the mess. Sam plucked a Kleenex from a box nearby and wandered closer, inspecting my dairy product-splattered hair. The intoxicating scent of clean male sweat filled the air as he leaned in. His gray tank was faded and old. But good Lord, did it do amazing things regarding leaving the bulk of his arms on display. All of his skin glistened and my stomach tumbled and tightened. It felt almost like nerves. Though I did not have a crush on the man. Because how ridiculous would that be?
His hand came toward me and I flinched. Dammit.
The hand paused ever-so-briefly and even with my eyes askance, I could feel his gaze drilling into me, searching my face. He can see it. Of course he could see it. No amount of makeup was going to hide that sort of thing from Sam. Whatever else his virtues and vices, the man was good at his job. And his job was violence. Recognizing it, and knowing how to prevent it. Still, it grated on me to show any sign of weakness. I’d rather be an overly proud bitch than a weak and wounded little thing any day of the week.
Then the pause was over and the hand continued forward. “Just cleaning you up,” he said, his voice deeper than the ocean.
“Yeah, I…” Shit. “Thanks.”
Ever so carefully, he lifted a thick strand of my dark hair and wiped it clean. His movements were cautious and slower than usual. I ignored the way his brows had drawn in ever so slightly.
“Maybe I should start shaving my head like you do,” I joked, disliking the way-too-loaded silence between us. “If he’s going to make a habit of throwing food at me.”
A manly grunt.
“Bet it cuts right down on the styling time and I’d save a bundle on shampoo.”
“Sam-Sam-Sam-Sam-Sam.” Gib threw himself at the big man’s back, little arms latching around his thick neck. Of course the kid loved him. It was just me he hated, his own flesh and blood. Lovely.
“Hey, buddy. You behaving yourself?”
Gib nodded his head up and down with much enthusiasm, the little fibber.
“Then why did poor Martha have yogurt in her hair?”
The kid just shrugged. “Want Mom.”
“Your mom’s at college. She’ll be back later.”
“Daddy?”
“He’s busy working right now,” said Sam in soothing tones. “You need to hang out with your Aunty Martha for a while. Your folks will be back soon, okay?”
“No!”
“Gibby—”
“No-no-no.”
“He’s big on repetition,” I said, wincing at all of the noise. For little lungs, the boy sure was loud.
“You can have fun with Aunty Martha.” Sam’s smile was so hopeful. “Hanging out with Aunty Martha’s great, isn’t it, buddy?”
“No-no-no.”
“Who could have guessed he’d say that?” I whispered. “Though to be fair, I’m kind of with him on that one.”
One of Sam’s brows arched, his gaze turning speculative. “You could be fun…in certain situations.”
I shut my mouth tight before it even had a chance to hang open.
“If you wanted to be.”
“Oh, really?” I cocked my head. “If I wanted to be in the situation or if I wanted to be fun?”
“Either. Both.”
“Huh.”
Gib patted Sam’s thick shoulders all affectionate like. Damn. The man’s muscles had muscles. How much time did he even spend in the gym? Not that he was preening or arrogant. I’d never met anyone less into worrying about what he looked like. It was all work-work-work for the man.
“What are the dogs up to today?” he asked Gib.
Immediately, the child raised his chin and “aroo-ed” at the top of his voice. As howls went, it was pretty spectacular. This task completed, he climbed off the big man and ran back to his former position standing in front of the TV.
Sam smiled. “Kids get pretty obsessed with shows. This one’s been his favorite for a while.”
“Talking dogs are pretty cool, I guess.”
For a moment, he just stared at me.
“Have I still got yogurt in my hair?”
“No, I got it all out.”
I nodded, turning my attention to my hands. It was easier than looking at him or dealing with all of the confusion his presence inspired. Time for a new manicure. One of my thumbnails was even chipped. To be fair, it kind of matched the whole food-fights-with-an-infant theme I had going on. Stylists and influencers would be so jealous.
“You never used to be nervous around me,” he said quietly.
“Nervous around you? Seriously?” I scoffed. “Maybe if you weren’t crowding me...”
The man didn’t move an inch. Jerk. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk last night. What bought you back to the West Coast?”
“I wanted to see my family.”
“That all?”
“Is that honestly so bizarre?”
“Combined with volunteering to look after Gib, it is a bit, yes.”
I bit back the word asshole. Just. “What is this, an interrogation? Are you worried that I’m a security threat or something?”
“Of course not. My job is to make sure that everyone’s safe,” he said. “That they’re okay. And that includes you. You’re part of the family too.”
“Well, thanks but no thanks for your professional concern. I’m fine.”
He just looked at me.
“Don’t you ever switch off from your job?” I asked.
“I’ll switch off when the world’s a safe place and nobody needs me around anymore. But we both know the world’s not a safe place.”
“That’s very Superman of you, Sam. Anyway, I’m not sure I’ll be around that long.”
“Guess we’ll see.” He rose to his feet and without another word wandered off toward the hallway. Thankfully, Gib was too engrossed in his show to be paying attention to the somewhat awkward conversation. Not that I was intimidated by a small child or what he thought of me. Or of an executive protection officer’s opinion, for that matter.
I was fine. Everything was fine. With a deep calming breath, I turned my hand, hiding the chip in my polish. I’d fix it later.
I stared mindlessly at the contents of my closet. The next job on my list of not particularly necessary things to do alone in my room. First had come the pedicure, facial, long soak in the tub while catching up on the entertainment industry news on my smart phone. Followed by eyebrow maintenance, some replying to emails, and my moisturizing routine. Now for this…how much exactly to unpack was the question. Outfits suitable for the New York party scene were less appropriate for wrangling small children and my previous work gear pretty much fell under the same category. None of it would stand up to the kind of rough usage a toddler could provide. Food fights. Shuffling around my knees picking up toys and such. Chasing after short, evil children on the run from their vegetables and bath time.
Fair to say I no longer quite recognized myself or my life. But I’d needed a job. More importantly, I’d needed to come home.
“Hey,” said Lizzy, wandering in without knocking. Guess it sort of was her house. “What are you doing?”
“Just organizing myself.” Caught out minus the heavy makeup, I kept my face angled down. Hopefully, with the low lighting, Lizzy wouldn’t see anything.
“You didn’t come down for dinner.”
“Not hungry.”
“You know where the kitchen is if you change your mind,” she said. “We were going to watch some TV. Did you want to come join us?”
“Sort of busy right now,” I hedged. Because while I might have reluctantly realized I needed to be around my family, actually giving in to the need was another thing entirely. “But thanks for asking.”
“Okay. So long as you know you don’t have to hide out in your room.”
“I’m not hiding.” I took in the baby monitor attached to my sister-in-law’s waist and sighed. “Should I be wearing that?”
She snorted. “We don’t expect you to be on duty twenty-four-seven, Martha. Sheesh.”
I just shrugged.
“Is that how things normally go in your line of work?” Lizzy sat on the end of the bed, making herself comfortable.
“Mostly I do a mix of PR and executive assistant type functions. Usually for people with delicate egos, lots of money, and busy planners. Entertainment industry, mostly,” I said. “Being summoned at four in the morning isn’t unheard of.”
“My baby boy can be high-maintenance all right. But any four in the morning nonsense can be handled by me or his father.” She grinned. “Is the room okay?”
“Yes, it’s lovely. Bigger than my whole apartment back in New York.”
“Good. Glad you like it. We want you to be comfortable here.”
I leaned back against the antique closet, arms crossed over my chest.
“Maybe you could even be comfortable enough to tell me about that bruise on your face sometime.”
“Lizzy…”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “While I might be freaking out internally, I’m not going to push you for answers you’re not ready to give. And I really am freaking the fuck out internally, FYI.”
“Thank you for not pushing.”
“Yet.” Her shoulders rose on a deep breath as she took her time, obviously thinking over what to say next. How damn awkward. “Martha, your brother’s missed you, you know? You’re pretty much the only family he has.”
“He’s got the guys.”
Lizzy shook her head. “It’s not the same. You’re his sister, he loves you, and we’ve barely even seen you since Gibby was born. Plus my child should have an aunt he can actually recognize on sight. That would be nice.”
“Well, I’m here now.”
“Yes, but for how long?” She eyed the still mostly packed suitcase sitting open on the floor. It was a mess. A fitting description for my life right now. “Come on, hang up your clothes, Martha. Settle in and give us a chance.”
My laughter sounded brittle and false to my own ears. I doubted Lizzy would be swallowing it. The whole psychology degree thing had to get in the way. While she might not be grilling me about the black eye, her gaze kept returning to the ugly mark just the same. At least she wasn’t showing me any pity or other such unwanted weirdness.
“I’m serious.”
“Regardless of what it looks like, I don’t need protecting. You can’t really want me living here constantly in your face all the time,” I said. “The house is big, but it’s not that big. Trust me, it’ll get old.”
“Are you kidding? Since Jimmy and Lena moved and the studio got relocated to our place, it’s been designated band headquarters. People are over all the time. It’s a big part of why we got this place.” She crossed her legs, kicking one foot idly. “Unless it’s running into the guys all the time that has you worried.”
I said nothing.
“And then there’s Sam, of course.”
Still nothing. My trap could have been wired shut.
“And all of the assorted wives.”
“Are you seriously trying to head doctor me right now?” I asked. Her sudden smile was beatific, making it hard for me to hold on to the grumpy. Luckily, I had a lot of experience with being in a bad mood. “Please don’t.”
“Just because you have a complicated history with people doesn’t mean you can’t have positive future interactions with them.” After my comment, she’d clearly decided to move into full-throttle psychologist mode. “Apologies and a little attitude adjustment can go a long way.”
“Sweet baby Jesus, just strike me down,” I said to the plain white ceiling. “Take me now.”
“That’s a lot to put on a baby, don’t you think?”
“After chasing around your child all day, I believe he’d be up to the mission.”
She smirked. “You see, Martha, I feel like we’re not only sisters-in-law. But we have the potential for besties here and it would be a shame to see that potential wasted.”
“Oh, do you now?”
“I do. And if nothing else, imagine how much it will irritate your brother to have us ganging up on him.” At this thought, she outright evil-giggled. The woman’s ability to tolerate no bullshit and yet still have fun was impressive.
“Valid point.”
With all due grace, Lizzy rose to her feet and meandered over to the door. “Tell me you’ll think about it.”
I didn’t say a word.
“Damn, you’re stubborn. Just like your brother.” She pushed my bedroom door wide open as if she was inviting the whole damn world in. “You’re going to think about it and then you’ll decide to stay. Imagine it, Martha, you won’t have to be alone anymore.”
I frowned, unhappy at the choice of words. “I’m not alone exactly. There were people I spent time with. Acquaintances I guess you could call them…and I was casually seeing someone for a little while.”
Mouth shut, the woman just watched me. So much judgment in her eyes. How ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly know no one had even bothered trying to call me since leaving the East Coast.
“I’ll have you know I appeared on numerous society pages and influencers style blogs almost every other week. My life was very full until this little upset.”
“Wow,” she said flatly, obviously unimpressed. “So you basically had some fake friends, a dude you did it with once or twice, and a job that made insane demands on you and did your head in. What a full, rich, and complex life indeed.”
“You didn’t used to be this sarcastic.”
“You didn’t used to be this bruised.”
I swore extra quietly beneath my breath. Guess spending time with a kid had already started to rub off on me. “Take your shrinking skills elsewhere. I do not need a therapist, Lizzy.”
“No? What about a friend?” And with that parting shot, she was gone.