“The what rule?” Sophie asks, and I laugh quietly.
“Bobby Gardner. He was this big stud jock when I was a freshman in high school. He was a senior when I was a freshman, and my sister kept telling me not to get with him. She said he was bad news. Our age gap is just right so she knew him when she was in school too. Of course, I didn’t listen to her. So when Bobby asked me out, I accepted.”
“What happened?” Sophie asks, and I chuckle.
“He picked me up in a stinky as hell beat-up Camaro, we go to the winter formal, and during the second slow dance, he tries to cop a feel. I busted him in the nose with an elbow, and he cried in front of the whole school.”
“I don’t get it. What’s the Bobby Gardner Rule?” Sophie asks.
“Elbow in the nose trumps hand on ass,” I say, and Sophie laughs. It’s a good sign. “There you go. Feeling a bit better?”
Sophie nods. “A little. Um . . . girlfriend?”
I nod. “It’s my first time saying that, but yes. Listen, Jake feels like shit, too. He thinks he’s been ignoring you because he’s been spending so much time with the club and with me.”
“I guess Jake deserves it,” Sophie admits, but I don’t know if she’s just saying that.
“Don’t worry, you guys will work it out. Men are stubborn pains in the ass most of the time,” I say, trying to loosen her up. If I were Jake, I’d be worked up too.
Sophie smiles. “Can’t argue with that. I don’t have anyone but Jake, though.”
“I’ll come around more if you’d like,” I say. “I’d like to get to know you. Jake talks about you a lot, actually. He’s proud of you.”
“Okay . . . if you can teach me how to shake your ass like that?” she says, referring to what I was doing on stage.
I laugh. “I’m pretty sure your brother would kill me if I did that. Listen, you get some sleep, and try to talk to Jake about this, okay?”
“I’ll try.” Sophie nods. “I’m kind of tired anyway.”
I give her a hug and go back out to the living room, where Jake’s sitting on the couch, wringing his hands. The worried look on his face tells me everything I need to know, and I feel my heart swell as I sit down.
“How’d it go?” Jake asks.
“She’ll live,” I say. “At least she’s not wanting to take your head off. Anymore.”
“Good,” he says, relief flooding his body and making him collapse back into the couch, leaning his head back as he closes his eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome,” I reply, putting a hand on his knee.
“Was I too hard on her?” Jake asks, opening his eyes and looking at me. “You must think I’m terrible.”
I shake my head. “Not at all. I understand that you’re trying to protect her. Just give her time, and no, I don’t think you’re terrible. She’ll come around. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
He sighs, putting his hand over mine. “I’ve never had to deal with anything like this. We’ve always been close and she told me everything. She’s been perfect.”
I can understand his concern, and it touches me how much he cares for his sister. In a way, it turns me on to see a man who is so caring and kind. It sets my ovaries ablaze, talking to the deepest primal instincts. Here’s a man who would fight for me, protect me and his children . . .
Is he the one? I ask myself. Is he the man I’ve been waiting for? They talk about them in romance novels and I’ve sung about them hundreds of times, but I never really thought one existed. They’ve always been like unicorns, nonexistent.
Watching him, I see in him a father figure, a man who will be everything I could ever hope for. God knows, if I ever have kids, they’re going to need a strong father because they’re sure as hell going to inherit some of the Price hell-raising DNA.
“Jake?” I murmur, reaching over and taking his hand. He turns his head, looking at me with loving eyes.
“Yes, Roxy?”
“I have something I need to give you,” I whisper, my heart thudding in my chest.
“What?” Jake asks, and I shake my head.
“Not here. Take me back to the club.”
Jake
It looks different, pulling in after everything’s closed up. The sun’s just lightening the sky in the east, and I feel a little strange shutting down the engine on my Maserati, the silence deafening.
For the first time, I can say that Club Jasmine doesn’t look like a museum or a temple, with trash littering the parking lot. There are napkins, a few cigarette butts, and I see some glass from smashed beer bottles. I comfort myself by knowing that the cleaning crew will come in a few hours, making Club Jasmine a jewel again.
I don’t say anything, my head still swirling. After losing my temper a little with Sophie, and then the tension of watching Roxy somehow put a bandage over things, then now . . . what is it she wants to give me?
I turn to her, trying to figure things out. “You couldn’t have given me this back at my place?”
There’s something reassuring in her smile. “Nope. Plus, I didn’t want your sister to hear.”
I arch my eyebrow inquisitively. Now I’m really curious. “Okay, you got me. Let's go inside.”
She gives me a secretive smile that only increases my intrigue, and as I lead her up the steps and unlock the door, I feel like I’m being drawn into something that will change my life forever.
Hitting the lights, I see that the club’s mostly cleaned up. The early crew can get the last of the tables wiped down as they restock the bar. Roxy looks around, her eyes still wide. “It must be wonderful to have all of this,” she says with a sigh. “To know that this place is yours.”
“Half mine,” I remind her. “We’re off to a good start, but I’ve seen clubs do well at first and then fall flat. We can’t get complacent.”
“I have faith in this place,” Roxy says, walking up on stage. It’s dark up there. I can barely see her except the glint of sparkles from her outfit. “Where are the lights?”
“Off to the side. To your left.”
Roxy disappears, and I can hear her fumbling around in the darkness. “Found it!” she yells. There’s a click, and the LED floodlights come on, illuminating the stage. Roxy comes out, a pleased look on her face. “That’s better. Now, can you come stand over here please?”
I see where she’s pointing, and I climb up, chuckling. “What are we doing, reenacting a play? I’m telling you now, I’m horrible at remembering lines.”
“No,” Roxy says, going backstage again before returning with one of the microphones. “I know this isn’t turned on, but I just can’t do this without one.”
She points to a chair that’s in the middle of the dance floor, and I grab it, sitting down. “Okay, okay . . . so what’s all this about?”
“I’m calling this Heartstopper,” Roxy says as she lifts the microphone to her lips, and what comes out is . . . angelic. “It’s been too long, gotta get out, hittin up the new spot with my girl. Lookin’ sexy as hell, workin’ the floor, hoping to give this place a whirl . . .”
There’s no backing track, no instruments or sound system. Just the purity of Roxy’s voice as she sings for me. It’s slow, and I can tell that the song’s supposed to be faster, but as she starts the second verse, realization sets in . . . she’s singing about me.
“Your touch is electric, has been from the start. Give it to me, baby, or I’ma stop your heart . . .”
I’m grinning as Roxy finishes, smiling as she lowers the useless microphone away from her lips. “Well, now.”
Roxy’s face falls, and she blushes as she begins rambling. “It’s crap, isn’t it? I just wanted to write a song for you, and in my head, it sounds good. I just have to get everything right. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to come off as a fucking cheeseball. I should have waited and prepared more. I’m sorry, every time I try and write something myself, it ends up coming out sounding like eighties shit-schlock . . .”
“I think it’s amazing.”