That was the most intense déjà vu I’ve ever experienced. Not only were the visuals so real but the intensity of the feelings. Just like my dreams, but I’m awake. Is that possible?
The flash of the little girl seemed almost like a memory. She couldn’t be a relative. If I had family, I wouldn’t have had to go into group homes and foster care after she died. But I must know the redheaded girl from somewhere. I get the feeling that she was important to me. Another orphan maybe? Why would I only see portions of her face? Even in my dreams, it’s only her eyes, lips, and hair, but only in sections.
“Dude, where the fuck have you been? We’re not your roadies, Justin Bieber. Get your ass out here and help us set up.” Lane shoves me and pops a cigarette in his mouth. He swings his gaze to Mac, who’s now behind her cart of bottles. “Mac, what’s up, girl? Mind grabbing me a beer, sweetheart?”
A possessive growl threatens to escape my throat, before I swallow it back. As much as I don’t appreciate Lane calling her sweetheart, she isn’t mine. I brush it off to me having respect for the girl. I mean she’s not a fucking groupie. Shit.
“Sure, Lane.” She pushes her cart past us, peeking up at me with a tiny smile. “See ya ’round, Rex.”
“Yeah, see ya.” I watch her until she disappears into the bar area then turn to Lane. His eyes are fixed at ass level where Mac just turned the corner. Fucking asshole. I punch him in the shoulder hard enough to knock the cigarette from his lips. “Call me Justin Bieber again, bitch, and I’ll break your legs.”
He rubs his arm, his jaw slack. “That’s my fret arm, dick!”
I shove past him with a frustration that is as misplaced as it is annoying. Reacting to a woman on any level is uncomfortable, but something about the black-haired motorcycle-riding barmaid is rocking my damn psyche.
*
It’s after two a.m., and I’m loading up the last of our equipment. Like most nights, the other band members have disappeared either to head home or hook up. Or both.
Usually I’d give them all a ton of shit for taking off, but the club was packed tonight, and we ended up playing an extra set. We all walked off stage to a crowd of chanting fans. The guys were on such a high that they needed to go blow off steam with the activity of their choice.
“Rex?”
I turn from where I’m strapping down our amps to find Mac standing by the tailgate of my truck. She’s fidgeting nervously.
“Hey.” I squat down to sit on the open tailgate. Her eyes dart around the dark alley behind the club, avoiding my eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” She tucks a few loose strands of her long hair behind her ear. “Listen, I didn’t get a chance to thank you for helping me out back there. Another minute and I may’ve passed out from a panic attack.” She laughs, but the sound is unnatural, as if she’s trying too hard.
I nod. “No problem.” My arms ache to wrap her in a hug. What the fuck is that all about?
“I also wanted to apologize for the, um . . .” Even in the limited light of the alley, I see her light-skinned cheeks turn scarlet.
It’s so pretty on her, and again I have to wonder why I hadn’t paid more attention to her in the past.
Her hands knot together. “Last week, when I, uh . . . it was out of line.”
“By it you mean the kiss?” Saying the word in her presence, I watch her neck take on the same color as her cheeks. The innocent blush stirs up a nauseating wave of arousal in my gut. I swallow it back and tug at my lip ring to avoid smiling at her reaction.
“Yeah, that.” Her eyes fix on mine, her expression serious. “I had no right taking advantage of you like that. You helped me and I repaid you by making you uncomfortable.”
I don’t know what to say. As much as I know I should say thank you and reassure her it’ll never happen again, my body is begging to relive it, so much so that it’s overriding the rising bile in my throat. Maybe I’m still riding the high of the kick-ass show we just played. Or it could be all the extra testosterone that’s pumping through my veins because of the eight-hour training sessions I’ve been having all week. Either way, I’m enjoying the feeling. Again, what the fuck?
“I acted like a dick, got you alone on a bed with a bottle of booze.” I shrug. “What’s a girl to think? I set you up and then treated you like shit for taking the bait. I’m sorry too.”
A tiny smile lights her pretty face. “Thank you for being so cool about it. And for the record, I don’t go around, you know, kissing any guy who helps me out of a jam.”
Damn if this little shy-girl routine isn’t fucking adorable.
“Mac?” I draw out her name. “What is it with you?”
Her head jerks a little and she lifts her chin. “Me?”