Page 60 of Opening Strain

I stop and turn toward the firing squad. “Her name is Jenna Westfield. She was my bandmate’s girlfriend, which means she’s part of the UC family. I didn’t know she lived here until I ran into her in town, and we decided to go out to dinner last night to catch up. Nothing more.”

I leave the gaggle and concentrate on taking normal steps toward King’s Audi. My entire body’s strung so tight, all I want to do is ram my fist into the reporter’s face. But I know the deal. If I show his questions annoy me, the rest of them will jump on the bandwagon.Not for the first time, I’m grateful Faith had to duck out of dinner early. She doesn’t need any of this hell raining down on her.

As soon as my ass slides onto the black leather seat, I slam the door shut. King turns on the SUV, locking the doors. I push the seat back as far as it will go in order to stretch out my right leg. We reverse out of the driveway at a snail’s pace. I force a smile and wave at the reporters as we finally get onto the street and pull away. When we’re out of their line of vision, my head slumps against the headrest.

“Thanks, man. You did great out there.”

King replies, “Sort of like I’ve done this before, huh?”

I check the sideview mirror. “How many are following us, do you think?”

“I’d say more than half. Ready?”

My hand grips the grab bar, my knuckles turning white. King floors it and we race down the residential side street with an angry group of reporters on our ass. I don’t bother to turn around. In fact, I keep my eyes shut as he races over the roads like the pro he is.

When we stop at a red light, I turn my face toward him. “You’ve had more than your share of opportunities to evade them.” Not a question.

“I didn’t lie. I know my way around their antics. Plus, after a couple of years as a real estate agent in this town, I know these streets like the back of my hand.” He makes a quick turn. “Jenna’s lived here her whole life. I’m sure she took evasive maneuvers although none of the paps were following her and my wife.

“Thank God. I can handle them on my tail, not theirs.”

“I hear ya, bro.” We ride in silence for a while. “Jenna seems nice.”

I appreciate King’s not-so-subtle question. “We’re not together. She was dating the keyboardist for my band until he died a couple of years ago.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I like her.”

Why did I confess this to a near stranger? Braxton Hunte’s son or not, I don’t know him. Hell, I don’t know his father too well either. Or his brother Trent, for that matter.

“Hey, no worries with me. I get it. Before I met Angie, there was no way I was going to settle down.” He makes a quick right, then a left. “When you know, you know. Until then, enjoy the groupies.”

I grin at his remark. With a father as infamous as his, I’m sure he’s seen more than his fair share of my lifestyle. Women throw themselves at me on the regular. It just happens none of them compare with Jenna.

King turns into a long driveway and pulls behind an oversized house, where Jenna’s Lexus is parked. Both she and Angie are outside, chatting as if they were old friends even though they’ve only met at professional functions until now.

I gather my strength and open the door, meeting King near the headlights. “Fancy meeting you here,” he quips, then kisses his wife on the cheek.

I appreciate the security. “This house allows me to hide from the paparazzi, so that’s a plus already.”

We walk through a fence and tour the backyard first. Angie begins her description of the property, pointing out the view of the water from here. It’s quiet. A far cry from LA or New York City, appealing to me in a way I never expected.

Angie addresses me, “Want to go inside?”

I check with Jenna, who admires the park-like backyard, with its dock. We have some time to kill. “Why not?”

Chapter Twenty

Unfortunately, the inside of the house did not live up to its grounds. We stand in the dated kitchen, and I admit as much to the real estate agents. For her part, Jenna doesn’t say anything but her facial expressions say she agrees with me. Besides, for five million, I don’t want to buy a fixer-upper.

Angie takes it all in stride and passes me another piece of paper. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s double the price but is done from top to bottom.”

“Sounds better.” Hell, if I am going to buy a new home, I don’t want to have to dick around with making improvements to bring it up to this century.

Car keys twirl around King’s fingers. “Think it’s safe to go in our own cars?”

I bet he said this for me, thinking I have a thing for Jenna. Well, if I’m being honest with myself, he’s not wrong. I’m being sucked into her aura of authenticity, and I like it. What does she want with me, though? I’m merely a patient in her eyes. Our few kisses can be chalked up to misguided judgment. Or maybe she has a thing for rockstars? However, she did agree to tour houses with me. This has to mean something. Doesn’t it?

Jenna surprises me by responding, “I think the coast is clear. I haven’t seen a reporter since we got here, and I’ve been checking all the windows.”

“Then it’s settled. King and I will see you at this next house in fifteen minutes.” We walk out with Angie and King, who lock up behind us.

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