Rock Redemption (Rock Kiss, #3)(75)

Her chest filled with emotion.

“Who looks after this while you’re on tour?” she asked him when he came over. “They haven’t been doing a good job.” Nothing had been trimmed, the weeds rampant.

“No one. It’s set up with sprinklers, but after a tour, it tends to be a bit of a jungle.” He ran his hand over her hair.

Startled at the unexpected contact, she looked up into those eyes of darkest gray. “What?”

“It’s nice, seeing you here.”

She was still trying to process the words when he turned on his heel to return to his bedroom. As if he’d shown her too much and needed walls between them.

Rubbing a fisted hand over her breastbone, she watched him until he disappeared, and she told herself to have patience and hope. If she didn’t have both, she might as well give up now.

But even as she told herself that, a small, secret part of her remained curled up in a self-protective ball. Because Noah had hurt her once already. So much. And that self-protective part of her wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt her again, wouldn’t betray her again.




Noah had stayed over at Kit’s before, but it felt different now. Awkward. He wasn’t sure what they were doing, what he should be doing, but he knew he didn’t intend to mess it up. “Hey,” he said, walking into the kitchen about twenty minutes after they’d arrived back at her place, having once more navigated the paparazzi gauntlet.

There’d been a few loitering at his place too, but most had made the right call and parked out at Kit’s. They were still out there, even though it was now after eight and there was little chance either he or Kit would venture out, given that they’d just returned from Zenith.

“Hey.” Kit’s smile was like goddamn sunshine, going straight through his skin to own him. “Want to help me cook?”

“Sure.” At least it’d keep him busy so he didn’t f*ck up. “What do you want me to do?”

“Grill stuff.”

“I’m your man.” He was even pretty good at the grilling thing. “Where’s the meat?”

“Fish.”

He tried to control his face, but she laughed. “You are so transparent. I thawed a steak for you. Fish for me.” She held up a thin bamboo spike. “I’m putting together some vegetable skewers to grill too.”

Having helped her carry the small bowls of vegetables and a cutting board out to the patio area off the back of her kitchen, he put everything on the small wrought iron table she had out there, then pushed up the lid on the grill. Her Japanese garden was off to the left, but she’d planted plenty of lush greenery here too, cocooning the space in whispering quiet.

As he got the grill going, she sat at the table and put the skewers together. They were colorful with bell peppers and things, and he was actually looking forward to eating them.

“I made a marinade for the vegetables,” she said conversationally as she worked. “With honey and spices and my secret ingredient.”

Noah’s lips tugged up at the corners. “Did David teach you?”

“Busted!” Her laughter filled the air, filled the hollow spaces inside him.

There was more laughter as they finished making the meal, more smiles, until nothing was awkward. He felt like he was home. The food was good, but the best thing was sitting out here under the early evening sky with Kit across from him.

Too bad the simple pleasure of it couldn’t last. His mind began to race as they finished clearing up, a rat on a wheel. What the hell was he going to do when it was time to sleep? He wasn’t about to take the pills, and his other “drug” of choice was now permanently off the menu. The only thing he could do was run, but he wasn’t going to leave Kit alone in the house when her stalker was back.

So do push-ups or sit-ups until you exhaust yourself enough to catch some shut-eye, he ordered himself. Do not screw this up.

“You know there’s a Dancing with the Stars special on tonight, right?”

He groaned, his worry about sleep momentarily erased. “You’re really going to make me watch?”

She bumped him with her shoulder. “I’m inviting. If you’d rather do something else, I don’t care.”

Laughing at her fake-insulted tone, he said, “Since when are you passive-aggressive?”

A wink as she grabbed a packet of frozen blueberries from the freezer and poured a handful into a bowl. “This is war.” She held up the bag. “You want some?”

The invitation made his breath get all hard and jagged inside him. He’d never eaten frozen blueberries before Kit introduced him to what was one of her favorite desserts. And now here he was again, being given a second chance. “No, I’m good.” Trying to breathe normally, he followed her to the lounge, sprawling beside her as she took a seat on the sofa with her legs curled under her.

Since she hadn’t told him to stop doing it, he stretched out his arm along the back of the sofa and played with her hair.

Reaching back, she tugged off her hair tie so that the fall of silken strands cascaded over his hand. “You sure you don’t want a blueberry or three?”

“You twisted my arm.” He twined her hair around his fingers. “Gimme.”

She popped a couple into his mouth. Their eyes connected.