Chasing the Sun (A Rebound Novella Book 2) (7 page)

She raised her brows and nodded.

“I’ll let you guys talk about it. That guy hanging over the bar and waving his hand like he’s having a seizure must want something.” Trey laughed and walked away.

Chapter Fourteen

“You wanna sit down?” Ian gestured to the empty stool beside him. She nodded.

“What would I have to do?”

She swiveled the stool top so she was facing him and crossed her long bare legs.

“Learn a few songs, maybe sing a little back up. But you don’t have to sing if you don’t feel comfortable. And if you know any songs already, I can change up my set a bit.” She blew out a breath and rubbed her bottom lip. “Man…I fucking knew I should’ve learned to play an instrument. Then I wouldn’t have to beg strangers to play with me. No offense.”

“None taken. But the way I look at it, if you stay and have a drink with me then we won’t be strangers anymore.”

“True, true. I could use a drink.” She lifted her chin to Trey and moments later there was a small glass in front of her.
 

“So, Ian, what’s your story?”

He pushed his hair back and smiled. “Well, I don’t have much of a story. I’m here for a few months on a project, then I’m heading back to Dallas.”

“You a lawyer? No wait—let me guess—sales something or other.” She tipped back her glass and raised her eyebrow.

“Wrong and wrong. I’m an architect. I designed the new museum of modern art and the investors wanted me here during the construction.”

“Cool. So how did you meet Trey?”

“I live up the block and have been coming in here since day one almost. She took pity on me and we became friends.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it was pity…You take pity on a crossed eyed guy with a stutter or a three hundred pound man living in his mom’s basement, not architects with movie star looks.” That made Ian laugh.
 

“Movie star, Steve Buscemi? Or movie star, Tom Cruise?” Ian asked. Movie star looks could go either way.

“Ummm, neither…movie star, Channing Tatum.”

“Who the hell is that?” Ian asked.

“Trust me, it’s a compliment.”
 

Ian wasn’t sure, so when Trey walked by he asked.

“Oh my God! He’s so fucking sexy.”

He looked at Rory and thanked her. So she thought he was good looking. That was a step in the right direction, the direction being to his bed, or hers…he didn’t care. It didn’t even have to be a bed.
 

Was it hot in here?
 

“I like when men and women can be friends…ya know, without gettin’ tangled up in the sheets.” She winked and Ian kept a straight face. “Trey’s as cool as they come, so I get it. She’s easy on the eyes, too. I’m sure that helps.” Rory was either teasing him or digging for info, he wasn’t sure which.
 

“Yeah, she’s a cute girl.” He shrugged. He was trying to keep it as casual as possible. If he had any hopes of having sex with Rory, she could never know. Chicks like these two had a code…integrity. Well, he didn’t know Rory well enough to know for sure, but he had a hunch.
 

“So when did you start playing guitar?”

“When I was about six.”

“Nice. You sight read then?” He nodded.
 

She seemed relieved. “Great, then I can put the sheet music in front of you and you don’t have to memorize anything. Would you be able to come to my place and practice a couple of times?”

Her place? His dick perked up, double time.

“Sure. I usually get done with work around five or six.”

“You still have a guitar? If not I can get one.”

“Yeah, I have it.” He would’ve never left it behind and he played almost every day, but he didn’t say anything.

“Well, Ian…” She finished the last of the dark liquid and set her glass down with a thunk. “You are a life saver. I owe you one.”

“We’ll talk about payment after you hear me play. It might not be worth much.”
 

It was always better to under promise and over deliver.

“Here’s my number. We can set up a time later this week if that’s cool?” Ian offered.

“Right on…See ya, Trey,” she yelled towards the end of the bar where Trey was making drinks.

“Take care, Rory!” she yelled back.

Rory turned to Ian. “Talk to you soon and thanks again.”

He pinned her with his best smile and nodded once. “Have a good night.”

“You’re staring,” Trey said. He hadn’t noticed she was standing there.

“No I’m not. I’m just making sure she finds the door, it’s dark in here.”
 

“You’re not really her type.”

“Oh, she’s a lesbian.”
 

“I say you’re not her type and automatically you assume that she’s a lesbian.” Trey shook her head.

“What?”

“Hey, cocky-ass, you’re not her type as in she doesn’t usually go for guys like you.”

He gave her a “what the hell” face and gestured to himself.
 

“Yes, yes…you’re a hunk. But what I mean is she doesn’t go for clean cut, boy next door types.”

“I’m not that clean cut.” Trey gave him a look. “I can be edgy!”

Trey patted his hand. “Sweetie, you are many things, but edgy is not one of them.”

“I save my bad boy for the bedroom, baby.” He wanted to take that back the minute it left his mouth. They were so in the flow of their usual banter that he’d almost forgotten.
 

She tilted her head. “Yeah, I know.”

“Sorry…so what is her usual type? I might surprise you.”

“Do you have any tattoos?”

“No.”

“Piercings?”

“Hell, no.”

“Musician by trade?”

“You know I’m not.”

“Like I said, not her type…sorry. ” She smirked.
 

He flipped her off and she air kissed him before walking away.

“Just for that I’m not leaving a tip!”
 

She ignored him. He was still shaking his head as he threw some cash on the bar.

Including tip.

Chapter Fifteen

“Nice, yeah like that. Slower…slower. Perfect.” Rory complimented Ian.
 

“Repeat that last chord again…nice.”

He was sitting on a folding chair in her small apartment rehearsing for the set. They’d been practicing for three hours. He didn’t realize how many songs he really knew until they sat down with her box of sheet music. There wasn’t a system, or organization to the contents, she just spread them out on the floor and started sifting through the piles.

There was a bean bag, a burnt orange couch, a futon in the bedroom, and a scarf thrown over a floor lamp in the corner. There was a television that looked like it was from a 70s garage sale, complete with nobs and antennae. She had a small coffee table, but that was the only table. He wondered where she ate.
 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Rory called from the kitchen. “I don’t have much, coconut milk…Kombucha…water, of course. Oh, and whiskey…I meant to go to the store today, but I got sidetracked.”
 

 
He didn’t know what the fuck Kombucha was and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Water’s fine, thanks.”

She came in with two waters and a plate of what looked to be cookies.
 

“Try one. They’re whole grain, with carob and pumpkin seeds. ”

“Uh, no thank you.”

“Might sound weird, I know, but they’re pretty tasty.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

He’d never really known anyone as “granola” as Rory. Maddie was the only one that even came close, but Maddie would devour a rack of ribs before you could say meat is murder. Austin had a whole hippy culture thing going. Compost heaps in backyards, weaving cloth out of hemp. People actually rode their bikes to work.
 

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged and grabbed one from the plate.

“So do you think you would be up for singing a song with me? I have one I’ve been wanting to do forever, but my guitarist doesn’t have the right voice for it. And when I say the right voice, I mean he can’t sing for shit.”

Ian laughed. “Well, I can’t really sing all that well either.”

“Ian, I heard you singing earlier, you have a great voice. Trust me.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never sang on stage before. I mean, I sang back up for a band I was in back in high school. But singing in a garage in front of six girls doesn’t count.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I guess not. Well, let me send you the link to the song. Take a listen and let me know…you surprised me tonight, Ian.”

“Oh yeah? How so.”

“I don’t know. You play beautifully and you’re just so down to Earth. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Huh. Why? Do I look too establishment for your taste?”

She chuckled and shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t judge by appearance.”

“Well, sometimes it’s spot on. You, for example. You looked kind of hippy-ish to me and now that I see your place and your chunky cookies, it all fits.”

“Hippy-ish?”

“Yes, and it’s not a bad thing. My dad was like that until Birkenstocks went out of style and his boss forced him to switch to loafers.”

“Tragic.” She laughed.

“I know.”

She looked at him for a minute. He hoped he hadn’t offended her with the cookie comment.

“That’s enough for tonight, don’t you think?” Rory asked pushing herself off of the floor, taking their water glasses with her.

“Oh, yeah. I guess it’s getting late.” Ian started to gather his things. Shit. He’d offended her. Fucking loose lips. Why did he always have to say what he was thinking? Just shut up for once.

“No, I didn’t mean for you to leave.” she said over her shoulder. She came back in with two glasses filled with ice and a bottle of Jack. “You can stay for a drink, right?”
 

Ian took in her tight tank and frayed jean shorts, which made her legs go on forever. Her hair was in a braid over her shoulder and her lips were pressed together. It was sexy, she was sexy. And he really wanted to stay for a drink.

“Sure, I could have a drink.”

“Good.” She walked past him and went onto the patio.

There were two colorful fabric chairs. There was a copper lantern in the shape of a spiked orb hanging in the corner. It was dark outside, so when she flicked a switch, the lantern gave off a warm light. Potted plants lined the perimeter. It was cozy, he liked it. It made him want to relax and have a few drinks.
 

He carefully lowered himself into a chair that was very close to the ground. Rory plopped down and crossed her legs over each other.

“So your dad was a hippy? I’ll bet he was the one that bought you your first guitar.” Rory guessed, pouring the dark liquid into each glass.
 

Ian grabbed the one she offered.

“Thank you…Well, he didn’t live in a commune or anything, but he was a free love, pot smokin’ type in the 60s. I think he had visions of me playing his folk song favorites after dinner or something.”

“And did you?” she asked with a smile.

“By the time I was good enough to play said favorites I wasn’t really into Peter, Paul and Mary or Joni Mitchell. My balls had dropped just a few years before and I didn’t want to send them back up.”

She sniffed. “You’re funny, you know that?”

“Um,
I
think I’m funny. But it doesn’t always translate…I did like Crosby, Stills and Nash, and Simon and Garfunkel, which was my dad’s favorite. But what I really wanted was an electric guitar. I finally got one just in time for my Alice in Chains obsession. That’s where playing in my friend’s garage came in. We were the hottest thing on Lakewood Ave and the coffee shop on 5
^th
.”

“I’m sure your whole audience was girls.”

“Pretty much.” They both laughed and she poured another.

“What about you? When did you start singing?”

“Well, speaking of communes…”

“No!”

“Yes. I lived in a commune outside of Boulder for the first eleven years of my life.”

“Bullshit! Are you getting me back for the hippy comment?”
 

“No. No, I swear. My parents are, in fact, hippies. We lived in a self-sustained community. We grew our own fruits and vegetables. We would sell goods to the local grocers and sold vegetables in a stand by the road. That’s how we earned money…Anyway, we didn’t have television, so for entertainment we would sing and play instruments…When I was seven I was washing my clothes…with a washboard and barrel.” She nodded, letting him know she was serious. “And while I washed I was singing “Puff the Magic Dragon,” I’ll never forget it. One of the elders just happened to be walking by and that night I was singing in front of everyone. So I was thrown into it, but I took to it, ya know?”

Ian had been intimidated by her at first, he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was her confident swagger and her whiskey-sex voice. He was pleasantly surprised at how easy she was to talk to and that they had a lot in common, despite her communal upbringing.
 

“I was the rebel of the commune, which meant I wanted to go to a movie and shave my armpits…I even went as far as stealing my dad’s straight razor. I was ten and I hid it in the folds of my skirt. I hid behind a tree and dry shaved. No mirror, nothing.”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it. The dumb part was there was a stream like five feet away…It was a complete hack job. My arm pits looked like crop circles when I was finished.”
 

Now they really started laughing.

“Did you get caught?”

“Of course I did. I was bleeding through my shirt. It was so embarrassing. Luckily my mom was starting to tire of life in the wilderness by then and saw my rebellion as a sign that it was time to move back to civilization. She’d grown up in Denver. She’d been in love with a boy and he was killed in Vietnam. She went a little nuts and left her old life behind. That’s how she found herself living in the Shire. And that’s where she met my dad.”

“The shire? Like where the Hobbits live? No way.”

She rolled her eyes, “I know…the founder was obsessed with Tolkien. He even made us call him Gandalf, which was weird because he was a short and chubby Mexican…Aha! The fact that you knew that proves you’re a closet geek,” she teased.