Page 9 of Fresh Tracks
“I was wondering where you were hiding,” he says, his thumb rubbing a circle on the back of my shoulder. I know it’s just a casual, friendly touch, but something about it and his presence sends a shiver down my spine.
I remember him being that way in Bend, always greeting you with a hug, resting a hand on someone's shoulders, the way he’d look you in the eye to talk to you, or clasping both of your hands to shake. Maybe it’s a musician thing, needing physical contact to connect.
Either way, I don't know if he senses my reaction, but he quickly removes his hand and extends it across the table, reaching to greet my grandparents.
I palm my face, groaning in frustration before looking up to catch the look of pure excitement on my grandma’s shocked face.
“Oh my goodness, Mr. Jacob.” Her voice is flustered as he clasps both of her hands. “It was so sweet of you to let them use your house for their wedding.”
I let out an exasperated sigh.
He chuckles to himself and to my chagrin, he pulls up a stool and sits down right between the three of us. I guess he didn't get my memo about wanting to enjoy my drink alone tonight either.
“There’s no way you can be the infamous Grandma Chapman they all talk about.” He flashes a wide smile at my grandma and she flushes like a swooning fangirl. “You hardly look old enough.”
Really, Grandma? Falling for his charisma that easy? If you haven’t spent time with him, it’d be easy to call this an act. But I’ve spent almost a week with him, with my brothers and theirgirlfriends, seeing how he is in private. So I know this isn’t an act, this is him — genuinely kind and polite to total strangers or friends of friends. There’s something heartwarming about it, someone in his position that can talk with a couple of old ranchers like they’re lifelong friends.
“How do you know our little Gracie?” Grandma asks, still blushing.
I drop my head and groan. Really Grandma, you’re really so easily charmed? I mean, I guess I get it. He’s famous, he’s got the whole musician vibe going on, and he is definitely easy on the eyes. As tall as I am, I'm used to being eye to eye with most men, but even I have to look up to meet his eyes. He must be at least six-two or something.
And he clearly takes care of himself. I’ll begrudgingly admit, I watched his old music videos when I was younger. In those days, he always looked lean and slender. After getting to meet him in person when we were in Bend, it's impossible to not see that he’s built,with subtly toned muscles hiding under his well-tanned skin.
But I’m not falling for that today. I lower my eyes at him, showing that I’m not in the mood for his charm and games.
He just tosses me a playful wink and carries on. “We’re old friends. She stayed with me and your grandsons in Bend back in May for some spring skiing with their girlfriends. It was a wonderful time.”
I turn in my seat to face him, tip my chin, and shoot him a conspiratorial grin. “Oh. It was a wonderful time, if by wonderful you mean hearing you complain about me swimming and scaring away your precious fish on the river every morning.”
His blue eyes sparkle with mischief when he grins back at me. “I think swimming would be generous. It was more like…” He brings a knuckle to his lips as he looks up in thought. For some reason, my eyes are drawn to the ticking of the muscles in his defined forearms revealed by the rolled up sleeves of his plaid flannel.
OK. I guess I’m not immune to his looks either.
He brings his eyes back to mine and I note the small scar splitting his eyebrow next to a piercing. I wonder how many times that’s been ripped out to scar like that. He was known for being a bad boy rocker after all.
“… Floundering? Yeah, I think I’d call it floundering. I was more scared that I might have to dive in and rescue you than I was from you sneaking up on me.”
Alright. This was not the exchange I was expecting tonight. I roll my eyes at him. “Whatever,Mr. Jacob.”
A low laugh rumbles from his chest and he leans against the table, swirling his beer bottle. I watch the motion, seeing that little tattoo around his ring finger that none of us had the nerve to ask him about.
I turn to look at my grandma and her eyes show nothing but fascination with this exchange. Great. I can add this to the list of things she’ll want to discuss later. Thankfully, my misery is interrupted by my grandpa clearing his throat.
“Come on, Nancy. I want to go see Clay and Lizzy. You know she was asking about your meatloaf earlier.” He wraps his arm around her waist and gives us a little wave goodbye. Clearly he gets social cues more than Grandma.
After they leave, I turn in my seat to face TJ. “What the hell was that about?”
He shrugs, the gesture making a lock of his shaggy, dark blond hair drift across his forehead. He tucks it out of the way, takes a sip of his beer, and smirks. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Rainbow.”
CHAPTER 4
TJ
RAINBOW
Judgingby the look on her face, Grace is clearly not amused by me interrupting her conversation with her grandparents. I can see her chest rise and fall with irritated breaths, her nostrils flaring each time. Her normally soft evergreen eyes are narrowed on me with annoyance. No one looks at me with this much open hostility, except maybe Sutton because he's always a shit-starter.
But I like seeing her like this.
