Jack Who? (Silver Strings G Series) (16 page)

His mom and dad both sat at the bar on either side of Tristan, and Jack stood torn between the other stool, and sitting with Marissa amidst her parents in the den. Jack’s dad, recognizing the dilemma, simply raised his brows and moved his arm to nonchalantly rest on the back of the remaining barstool. It was a silent statement of sorts, and following his unspoken advice, Jack crossed to sit by Marissa on the couch.

An avid conversation about Tristan’s physical progress was ongoing, and without directly looking his way, Marissa’s free hand possessively fell to his knee.

When the discussion dwindled, she twisted her chin and flashed a wicked smile. “How is the gumbo?”

“I may need a second bowl to decide,” blithely he returned, and his heart pounded when she paused with her spoon in her mouth.

Quickly finishing the bite, she asked, “A second bowl? Are you sure it won’t take a third?”

Word games with her were one of his favorite past times. Possibly, the word game in the tour bus was when he first fell for her.

Playing hostess, Marissa refilled glasses and dished up second helpings. Playing mother, she tended to Tristan. To make sure she didn’t play maid, Jack hastened to help with the cleanup, making sure to beam a smile at both of her parents as he collected their empty dishes. The smile earned him no brownie points with her mother, but her father was thawing.

Setting them into the sink, he discovered his own mother was now on friendlier terms with Marissa.

“Your file’ is to die for,” his mom gushed. His mother was not a gusher and he studied her face in astonishment. File’?

“Thank you.”

“Haven’t had any this good since I was a child.”

At this, Jack remembered relatives he had only met once or twice in southern Louisiana. The part of his childhood not spent on the road, or in Dallas, was spent at their second home in Destin on the beach. This is where cousins came together and where occasionally surf and turf supplemented shrimp jambalaya if his grandfather’s family was around.

“I just cannot believe you have Jacks eating Cajun food!”

Marissa tipped one of those sweet but deadly smiles to him. “I don’t think he liked it. Only two bowls...,” meaningfully trailing off, she tossed him a damp paper towel. “Can you make sure Tristan is not in your dad’s lap with file’ face?”

Whipping around, Jack saw that sure enough, Tristan was sitting on his dad’s knee as if he had been doing so since the day he was born.

“Already did,” Jack promised, having cleaned his son’s face before letting him get away from the bar. Buoyant with the magic of the moment, he pulled her waist to his in passing,

Marissa’s parents were the first to leave, and Jack’s stuck around another hour. Even though it was well past Tristan’s bedtime, the little boy showed no fatigue as he chattered with his new grandparents. Leading his new grandmother down the hall with the hand he was not using for balance on his crutch, Tristan was intent on showing off his car themed room.

Marissa was conversing with Jack’s father, and Jack headed with his mother into Tristan’s room.

“Jacks, this is just beyond amazing.” His mom was not speaking entirely of the room, and Jack nodded his agreement.

Marissa and Tristan in his life changed his outlook. He felt needed. He welcomed the responsibility. He embraced the love and companionship.

“Daddy likes my room,” Tristan informed his grandmother. “He can sleep in here when we get another bed. But now he sleeps on the couch.”

His mother smiled at Tristan’s enthusiasm, but she turned questioning eyes to her son possibly afraid she had read the situation wrong. Jack sought to put her mind to rest that all was well without it being too embarrassing.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.” Putting slight stress on the S word, he kept his back to his mother and moved about pulling Tristan’s PJ’s from his dresser.

Every morning at dawn, he moved to the couch. He was going to have to step up the ‘spectacular’ marriage proposal. Mariss had already questioned the number of bedrooms in his LA house and informed him that they would be sleeping, again stress on sleeping, in separate rooms for Tristan’s sake until they married.

“I wish you could stay with us a night before heading to LA,” his mother mused as she straightened from the shelf of books Tristan was showing off.

The next afternoon, they would all be flying to Dallas, but after his parents debarked, he, Mariss, and Tristan were going on to LAX and his house.

“Me too. But soon. I promise,” Jack assured his mother as he helped Tristan dress for bed.

“You better mean that. I let you slide when it is yourself, but you can’t hoard my grandchild. Ask Meg.”

“I won’t hoard your grandson, Mom.” With this, he rolled his eyes but a smile slipped out.

It was no secret that his mother had separation anxiety when it came to her children. It was surprising that she dealt
as well as she did with them both living in California. However, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in LA eased her mind about him and Meg living there. This also gave her many excuses to visit and spy on him and his sibling, which he did not mind at all–not like he had when he was twenty and catching hell from both of his parents about his friends, his girlfriends, everything.

“What’s a whore?” Tristan’s face puckered, and Jack’s mother gasped.

Jack stared flabbergasted as well. Seriously, did his son have some link into his mind while he was briefly thinking of the women in his past? Then, he understood that his son must have said ‘hoard.’ Either that, or Tristan had heard the ‘W’ word before, and asked because he thought he was hearing it again now.

Carefully, Jack pronounced the correct word making sure the ‘D’ was heard and defined hoard the best he could for a four-year old. His mother was enjoying every minute of this, and the second the explanation finished, she headed to the den presumably to relate her first cutesy grandson story to anyone who would listen.

Wonderful. Another word for Marissa to give him hell about.

“Give us a call tomorrow. We will try to fly out by early afternoon,” his pop planned as they stood at the front door. His mother swung Tristan up in a hug and squeezed Marissa’s shoulder in parting.

In every trip involving planes, the plan was always, if possible, to get where they were going before dark. His dad had survived a plane crash and hated flying, especially at night. Since they would be gaining a couple of daylight hours flying east to west, the time worked.

The door closed behind them. Jack leaned against it for a moment watching as Marissa bent, picking up stray napkins and glasses. Each bend of her body, whether back view or front, caused the fabric of her dress to stretch sweetly across her curves.

“Mom? Can I have another piece of pie?” Tristan asked. Jack saw that their son was hopefully hanging over the last two slices of the cheesecake.

To Jack’s surprise, Marissa consented for whatever reason. But, she had been doing the parent thing way longer than him so she knew what she was doing. He hoped she did. Tonight, Jack was ready for Tristan to be asleep, not sugar rushing.

Marissa finished up the dishes, and Jack finished off a piece of pie next to Tristan. As he ate, he eyed her every move and chattered with the two who, in a very short time, had become his favorite people in the world.

After c
arrying Tristan to bed, Jack tucked him in with a very quick story and a promise of three stories the next night. Then he went back for Marissa.

The lights were off. Only the night-light glowed in the kitchen and a small lamp in the den. Trekking the hall, he imagined the things they would do, and with a twist of his fingers to the button fly, made his jeans a little less tight.

The bedroom was empty also, and the drone of running water propelled him forward, past the last-minute packing that littered every surface area, to the bathroom.

She lay, stretched full length, in the tub although it was not yet full with her head resting on the tile, her eyes closed, and an arm on either side.

“You going to just stand there or come in?” Her question was soft, sweet, seductive. It was the only invitation he needed.

In seconds, he was stepping in and situating behind her so that she rested against him. Uncontrolled, his hands began to wander, and when he claimed every inch of skin reachable from this position, he went back for his favorites.

“Jacks?”

“Hmm?”

“Aha!”

In her excitement, she shifted, and his answer was a partial groan as he enjoyed her backside against his lap.

“What?”

“Your parents call you Jacks. Why is that?”

“No idea.” Squeezing, he enjoyed the responses of her body as he played. The weight in his hand, the tickle in his palm, the quickening of her heart and breath.

“Well what is your name?” Putting her hands over his, she closed her grip, as if she could stop his moves. As if she wanted to talk.

“Jackson.” Answering, he relaxed his hold letting her get by with it for now.

“Last name?”

Her head turned slightly as she made the inquiry, dragging her hair across his shoulders and chest in a very distracting way.

“Hmm?”

“I heard your dad introduce himself and your mom to my parents. And, he said a different last name. It wasn’t Storm.”

“Why are we talking names?” Letting his fingers slide beneath the water, he hoped to distract her, and he found his efforts rewarded when he heard the hitch of her breath and felt the arc of her chest beneath his other hand. “I have a question. Why do your parents wonder what I do for a living?”

“I don’t know. It never came up. They didn’t ask before tonight, and it never seemed important.” Her tone was a touch defensive, and she stiffened slightly.

For years, people had gravitated to him for who he was, even before he was who he was. Growing up, his dad was who he was, making him and Meg who they were to the outside world. It was hard to ever know who really gave a shit about him when it came to women and friends.

He was enjoying that Marissa didn’t really have a clue of anything beyond this him, right here. Not that it would change anything with her. Jack knew her better than that. She had not been star struck at any time by Jack Storm.

There was no reason to think she would with Jack anyone.

One more night of anonymity. Hooking his fingers into her hair, he touched his lips to her shoulder and then urging her head to twist to his, laid on a kiss putting everything he felt into it.

His name soon came up again, but not in questions.

Between broken breaths, she whispered it.

Unintelligible, she began it but couldn’t finish it.

It echoed from the tub tiles as she quietly screamed it.

Lastly, spoken against his skin, she sighed it.

“I love you Jack.”

THE END
of Book 1

Continue Jack and Marissa’s story in Book 2 of the series “Weathering Jack Storm”
AVAILABLE NOW ON KINDLE

Read on for the preview!

“Text me, the second you get there! And call me asap?” Olivia’s eyes shimmered, and Marissa felt her lids stinging as they stood hugging on the tiny porch of her home.

The new luggage
, Jack had surprised Marissa and Tristan with, strained at its seams and lined the hallway just inside the front door, Since Jack hadn’t been able to find a set in any one of Tristan’s favorite themes, Tristan had ended up with a variety; a rolling Hot Wheels duffel, a bandit backpack, and a rolling Scooby backpack.

Jack appeared, bustling at high-speed, the mode he had been in all morning, and grabbed up all three of Tristan
’s bags before shouldering around Olivia and Marissa with a grin. The smile had rarely been off his lips in the last hours, and Marissa knew he was anxious to be back in LA, and seemed just as anxious to have them there with him.

Us.
A word she was still not used to, even though she had dreamed of it for so long. He bent, slightly shuffling his own bags in the trunk of the rental to make room for theirs, and when she finally tore her eyes from the molded pockets of his jeans, she found a broad smile had joined Olivia’s teary countenance.

“
I’m so happy for you Rissa! Gosh, what am I going to do without you guys? Without my little guy?” Olivia had spent a quarter of an hour saying her goodbyes to Tristan while showing him how to use the new drawing app she downloaded for him on his tablet.

“
I will take good care of ‘em,” Jack promised, having walked by in time to hear her mournful words, and he even paused to pull her into a light hug. Olivia actually blushed and had to rivet her own gaze from him as he bent for more luggage.

This time
, Marissa was the one who knowingly smiled. Liv might be married, but who could be immune to Jack?

“
And you take care of my dog,” Marissa told Olivia. Bally would be joining them in California within the next couple of weeks, but until then, the dog was boarding with Liv. Tristan had spent a day with Olivia picking out new toys for Bally and adding them to the rest of the lab’s things at the home away from home.

Watching Tristan
’s face at the airport was as exhilarating as the upcoming trip. Marissa had only flown once before, but this experience was vastly different from the get go. Jack turned off of the main terminal access road and, almost immediately, small jets became visible on the tarmac and inside open hangers.

“Do you see hanger numbers?” h
e inquired while squinting through the windshield. “We are looking for forty-five, but I don’t see numbers...”

“
There!” She pointed to a metallic eleven glinting in the sunlight.

“
Do you have a passport?” Jack inquired as they rolled closer to the designated number.

“
Do I need one?” Airport security was ever changing, and she panicked thinking requirements possibly had changed for domestic flights.

“
You will need one.” He answered, stressing the ‘will’ with a curve of his lips. “And Tristan too. We have ten Europe dates on this next tour.”

Parking the car in front of hanger forty-five, he popped the trunk and hopped out. Jack hoisted Tristan, piggyback style, before grabbing as much luggage as he could carry. She followed suit
, and they headed to the tiny entrance in the back of the hanger.

Before they closed the distance, the door burst open
, and Jack’s father, wearing a broad grin, advanced on them. Quick greetings were exchanged, and he gallantly insisted on divesting Marissa of her load, leaving only the messenger bag hanging on her shoulder. Inside, Jack deposited Tristan on a chair next to his mom, and the men went out for the rest of the things.

“
Hi Marissa,” Jack’s mother greeted, and pulled Tristan into a warm hug. “And hello Tristan. Are you ready to fly today in an airplane?”

Tristan was quickly sugared up with a kiss or two from this new grandmother, as well as powdered donuts and hot chocolate. Watching the two of them, Marissa threw away the hot chocolate packages and filled herself a cup with hot water, and dumped in a package of instant coffee.

The room was outfitted as a comfortable lounge, but instead of settling in one of the cushy chairs, she paced. Jack and his father were carrying the bags through, to another door leading to the actual hanger. Hovering on the threshold, she marveled at the glossy white jet and wanted to show it to Tristan, but her son was deep in conversation with his grandmother.

The luggage was in a neat line, largest to smallest, and she wondered if they organized it
to load by weight. The glare refracting from the runway beyond the large opening was bright, and a couple of men appeared from that direction. They shook hands with Matt and Jack, and the younger of the two climbed into the plane.

“
Mariss?” Jack asked as he walked among the luggage, “What do you want up front with you, and which bag does Tristan need with him?”

Stepping forward, she indicated the bags in question, and when Jack began to toss the others up to the plane, the guy began to stow them into the rear.

At this time, Jack’s mother and Tristan emerged, and Jack’s father turned from his conversation at hand. Kneeling to Tristan, he gave him a hug and teased of the crutch, “You don’t even look like you need that anymore! You about ready to throw it away?”

Tristan nodded with a shy smile.

They boarded, Jack again carrying Tristan, and she tried not to gawk in awe at mocha leather seating which included a long couch type seat and two recliner type chairs. The leather was complimented by wood grain walls and plush carpet. Right away, she noticed her stuff, as well as Tristan and Jack’s, on the couch, and that is where the three of them seated themselves.

Jack
’s mother took a seat in one of the thick chairs, and his father in the chair across. The plane began to roll, preparing for takeoff, and she tried to manage Tristan as, constrained by his seat belt, he twisted to look out the window behind him.

“
Okay, we obviously did things backwards here,” Jack laughed, and a trade of seats was quickly made. Tristan moved into the seat across from his grandmother, happily able to see out the window next to him. Jack moved into the middle space next to Marissa, and his father took Jack’s spot.

For some reason, she could not keep her eyes from straying to Jack
’s father. Something seemed familiar about this family, as if she knew them, had been with them before. Finally, she shrugged it off as fate. She belonged with them even though she was not yet comfortable with them.

Tristan began to alternate his attention between the window, and the television flat against the wall. Jack and his father were laughing over some redneck reality show. Jack
’s mother was writing in a spiral notebook when she wasn’t engaging Tristan in conversation.

The plane descended into the Denton airport on the outskirts of Dallas. They all debarked while some of the luggage was unloaded. Jack with Tristan had just emerged from the restroom when a woman who looked to be in her fifties
breezed into the lounge area of the hanger with a courtesy knock.

“
Yoohoo?”

Yet again, Marissa felt a fleeting familiarity.

The woman introduced herself, formally putting out her hand to Jack’s mother. “Hello, It’s been years, I’m–”

“
Of course!” Jack’s mother warmly greeted the other woman. As the introduction progressed, Marissa was left trying to control her amazement when she associated the name with a renowned pop star of years back. Mrs. Loren went on only to be interrupted, “This is my son Jacks–”

“
Oh, my stars, you were just a baby the last time I saw you!” The woman gushed, and Marissa had the rare pleasure of seeing Jack turn red. “And now you look so much like your father back in the day! Matt had that same dark, almost black, hair!” The aged pop star continued, and now, strangely enough, Jack’s mother flushed and her eyes glowed with a glimmer of irritation. “Does Matt still have dark hair, or is he gray like the rest of us? I don’t know about you Jules and your beautiful red, but I am gray under this blonde!”

“
Um...” Jack’s mother seemed reluctant to speak of her husband to the woman, and quickly derailed the conversation. “This is my grandson!” Tristan was hiding out behind his father, and his grandmother urged him forward.

“
Ooh, now he is the spitting image of Jack the last time I saw him. The festival in Glasgow was it?” The woman was crooning over her son and protectively, Marissa moved nearer.

“
This is Jacks’ fiancée, Marissa.” Jack’s mother continued smoothly as if she hadn’t been interrupted.

“
Hello Marissa. A pleasure to meet you–” At this point, the door leading to the hanger swung open, and to confound the situation even more, Jack’s father looked as if he wanted to back quickly out before being noticed. However, it was too late. “Matt Loren! It has been ages! Just ages! I could not believe when my pilot mentioned that you were circling for a runway. I had to stay and say hi!”

“
Hello, Tracy.” Jack’s father clasped one of her hands in both of his, but the former pop star maneuvered it into a hug. Pulling back, he asked, “What brings you to the DFW area?”

“
I just did a cosmetics promo.”

Their voices faded as everything clicked into place like a jigsaw puzzle that she had never known was missing pieces. The woman took her leave
, and a collective relief settled on the room. As Jack and his family began their goodbyes, Marissa again scrutinized his father.

“
Marissa.” The man draped an arm warmly about her shoulder. “Take care of these boys. Don’t let ‘em get into too much trouble.” He winked at Tristan.

“
You are Matt Loren!”

Seemingly t
aken aback by this outburst, he moved away enough to study her face then turned quizzically to Jack.

“
You are Matt Loren. I cannot believe I did not see this last night! You are Matt Loren!”

Jack
’s father, Matt, seemed to be trying to control the quirk of amusement on his lips, and Jack’s mother, Jules, sent Jack a strange look, her husband a confused look, and Marissa a sympathetic one. The sympathy, Marissa quickly understood when her limbs felt weightless for a moment, and she knew she must look as shocked as she felt.

Matt Loren was a rock legend. His hits had easily ridden out the decades long after each of his bands stopped touring. The songs were regular rotations both on the classics stations and nineties alternative.

Trying to recover, she stammered of the two bands Matt Loren was most known for, “I grew up listening to Jewelweed and After Hours...I can’t believe...This is crazy...”

Her eyes sought Jack
’s, but he was in some eye battle with his mother who seemed to have won because he looked away first and then down at the floor.

“
Let’s get you guys on the plane so you can get to LA before dark.” After bestowing a warm smile on her, Matt took control.

“
Your song ‘I could be’ is my favorite.” Marissa couldn’t seem to shut up, and mortified that she had extended what was already an embarrassing moment, she bolted for the door.

Jack
’s parents seemed reluctant to let them go, their eyes lingering fondly on Tristan.

“
This is a surprise for when you get to your daddy’s house.” Jules showed a colorful shopping bag to Tristan then hooked it and another over Marissa’s hand. “And this is a housewarming for you and Jack.”

Accepting the proffered ginormous shopping bag with a thank you, Marissa watched as Matt and Jules Loren warmly embraced her son, and their own son. Then, after a quick hug to Marissa, they were admonished to board so they could
“get home before dark.”

Marissa safety belted Tristan into the same chair he had earlier vacated, and instead of taking the seat beside Jack, she sat in the one across from Tristan.

“Want a drink?” Jack stood at the mini bar, catching her eyes in the mirrored wall as he offered.

“
I do!” Tristan informed, sparing only a glance from his rummage through his shopping bag. “Look Mom!” Tristan tossed the swim trunks and Bandit beach towel aside in his excitement upon discovering an assortment of blow up toys, diving rings, and various other pool fun.

To Tristan
’s astonishment, Jack folded out a table from its armrest compartment and set two juice boxes atop it. A few minutes later, Jack set a mixed drink in the cup holder on the arm of her chair and returned to his seat with his own.

The pilot stepped out of his nook long enough to inform them that they were about to taxi
, and once they were in the air, Marissa addressed the elephant in the cabin.

“
Why didn’t you tell me?”

“
Tell you–” Jack was about to say ‘tell you what.’ That much she felt. But, whatever crossed her face caused him to abort that tactic and try her own shenanigans against her. “I thought you knew.”