Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick #3)(52)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“No lip, Roxie. Hank wants you with him, you’re stayin’

with him.”

Good God.

They’d moved me in with Hank.

They’d moved me in with Hank.

Uncle Tex was right. It’d been a week, and there I was, al moved in with Hank.

Shit.

I stared at Jet and she was giving me a look that was half smile, half grimace. She knew my pain, she’d had to move in with Eddie during her troubles and even though her problems were through, she stil hadn’t moved out. I could tel she wasn’t going to do a thing about my current situation though, likely because she agreed with everyone else.

I made a strangled sound and looked back at Tex. I was beginning to get angry.

“Do I not have a say in this?” I asked Uncle Tex.

“Nope,” He responded.

My eyes narrowed. “Excuse me but I think I do.”

“You can have your say when people aren’t shootin’ at you,” Tex returned.

Jason, Lee and Eddie walked in from the TV room to catch what was likely to be a more spectacular show as I squared off with Uncle Tex.

“That’s just it, they were shooting at me but Daisy was with me. They could have shot her. They did shoot her car!” I snapped. “Seems to me everyone would be a heck of a lot safer if I was far away from here.”

“You ain’t thinkin’ straight,” Tex said agreeably. “That’s understandable.”

I stomped my foot. I was no longer beginning to get angry, I was out and out angry.

“I am thinking straight. If something happens to someone because of me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Hank said from beside me, cutting into the conversation.

I turned to him. “Yeah? You sure about that?” I asked.

His eyes got hard. “Yeah,” he said slowly, staring at me.

“Yeah, I’m f**kin’ sure.”

Holy cow.

The way he said it, the way he looked, made me believe him.

Almost.

“Hank, that mouth,” Kitty Sue said in a mother’s tone.

Even with the tension flowing between Hank and me, I had to admire Kitty Sue tel ing off her grown-up, super-macho, badass cop son for dropping the f-bomb.

Then she announced, “Spaghetti’s ready, let’s eat.” The conversation was over and so was the show.

Even though I didn’t want it to be, I real y had no choice.

* * * * *

We ate. We did the dishes. We played Scattergories. Uncle Tex took Nancy home. We had sundaes smothered in hot fudge sauce and topped with whipped cream and a cherry. We did the new dishes. Kitty Sue went home, Hank and Lee both walking her to her car.

This I found so sweet I felt my breath constrict in my chest and caught Indy’s eye. Her eyes were bright and warm and something flowed from her to me, like an invitation to a sisterhood that only we two could share. I wanted to accept, more than anything I’d ever wanted in my whole life; even Corporate Diva-dom, closets stuffed with clothes and a front row seat at the Chanel Winter Runway Show in Paris.

Hank and Lee came back and the moment was lost, but the promise remained and I felt so moved by it, I barely said another word the rest of the night.

We played more Scattergories. We listened to Indy and Al y tel ing stories of Haunted Houses past and I began to get more and more freaked out at this Haunted House business. It didn’t sound fun, it sounded frightening, it sounded crazy, it sounded total y out of control.

Hank noticed me getting tense and pointedly put away the Scattergories game.

Everyone took the hint, hugs were exchanged then they al left.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Hank commented after he’d closed and locked the door.

“I was shot at today,” I answered, thinking I had a good point even though I was lying.

He walked up to me. “That’s not it.”

He was right, that wasn’t it. How he knew that, don’t ask me but it was like he had a cord and he’d plugged it into me the minute he first laid eyes on me. It had been that way since the start. This freaked me out and made me feel centered and safe al at the same time. Don’t ask me how it did this, I couldn’t tel you that either.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “I need to cal Daisy.” Surprisingly, he let it go, saying he had his own cal s to make.

I cal ed Daisy and she told me she was fine and not to worry about her.

“They f**ked with the wrong girl when they f**ked with me. Mark my words,” she threatened.

I marked them, she sounded serious. Daisy might be sweet-as-pie and cute-as-a-button but I got the definite sense she could open one major can of whoop ass.

* * * * *

Hank’s house had three bedrooms. The master, at the side of the house next to the kitchen with a smal , three quarter bathroom attached, and there were two bedrooms at the back, off the living room, separated by a ful bath. One of these rooms was what appeared to be a weight room-slash-junk room, made more so by my boxes and suitcases.

Annette and Jason had brought my stashed clothing and also packed up most of my clothes, shoes, my jewelry case, my high school yearbooks, photo albums and some picture frames fil ed with photos of family, and friends and carted it al out to Denver.

Apparently, they thought I was going to stay for a while.

The other bedroom was Hank’s office. It had an old comfy looking couch, a table with TV, a desk, his computer and a bag fil ed with bats that was lumpy at the bottom (with what appeared to be softbal s) sitting in the corner. I figured that room was his lair. He’d disappeared there when I cal ed Daisy and I didn’t disturb him.

After I cal ed Daisy, I got undressed and ready for bed, found Hank’s CDs in the TV room, picked “Born to Run” (because I was in Hank’s house and that demanded Springsteen) and Shamus and I settled in with my lilac, embossed stationery.

I had set aside my stationery, was amusing myself (not) by thinking how my life was certifiably f**ked and “She’s the One” had just started playing when Hank arrived.

He stopped at the side of the bed and stared down at me. He did this for a while; so long, it made me uncomfortable.

“What?” I asked.

“Been waitin’ a long time to meet the girl in this song.” I felt my body stil at the importance of what he just said.

So did Shamus, his head came up and he looked over at Hank too.

The lyrics to this song weren’t cryptic, even so somehow to me they col ided with the thundering, unbelievably cool music that told what I considered the real story; starting expectantly and then exploding and then drawing out to a beautiful, vibrating cl**ax.