It's Holy Matrimony, Baby_The Casey Brothers Series Read online

  Mayhem is quiet. More of a bookstore today. There’s no band on the roster, though the stage is set up with a microphone stand, a drum kit, and amps. People are scattered through the room. A group of girls in summer dresses are giggling at the other end of the bar. A serious guy with a droopy moustache, a long face, and even longer feet is wading through a Tolkien novel on one of the couches.

  Lou pushes one of those not so hideous Casey specials at me. This one is weaker than the first one she made me, and it’s actually not awful.

  Nox cradles a beer glass in one hand. “You’re getting used to them.”

  “I am. Plus I plan on working on a piece for the blog tonight. I need all the caffeine.”

  He smirks at me. “Wore you out, did I?”

  “You wish.” I take a sip of my drink.

  A couple of young guys in flat caps with their pants hanging too low are crowded into one of the booths, headphones covering their ears. Alone at a table a tall girl with dreadlocks is writing in a spiral-bound notebook. Another girl who reminds me a little of Heidi Klum darts an unfriendly glance in my direction before she walks out. Poor dear probably hasn’t eaten in a million years. I’d be hangry too.

  “I’m not the one who needed to take a nap.” Nox turns to face the bar. Rests his elbows on it. “About what happened before we got to Finn’s.”

  “I really wasn’t trying to push you.” I swirl the straw through my drink. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Should have left it alone.”

  “You’re right,” he says. “I think you’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “When I stopped playing it was because I needed to. I was wrung out and fucked up. I couldn’t be that guy anymore. I couldn’t handle the price tag that came with being famous. All the people who knew who I was, who glamorized me into something I wasn’t.”

  I have no idea what to say to him. I don’t understand, because I’ve never walked in his shoes, but my heart aches for him. I wrap my palm around his bicep and squeeze as though I can convey my feelings through something so simple.

  He places his hand over mine, holds it there. “When I got out of rehab I took off. I found the most remote quiet place I could, this little town in the Northern part of Australia, and I went there. It was all desert and sheep stations. Stayed there and threw myself into working an honest job, until I could look in the mirror and not see the guy everyone knew. I got better. Healthier. But I couldn’t change who I am that easily. I came home. Started writing again. Playing. Singing. Just for myself at first. Because I had to. Then I started playing gigs, small places like here.” He glances around Mayhem. “Not much. Just once or twice a month. Found a couple guys to jam with. That was a mistake. They weren’t at the same place I was. More into partying than their music.”

  “You slid backwards?”

  “No.” He glances at me, his brows raised into his shaggy hair. He shakes his head. “No. But it was a struggle. And I feared it. Would have been easy.” He slicks condensation from the bottom of his glass as it pools onto the bar top. “And then I met Lena. She was there at one of our gigs. Perched on a stool near the bar, drinking soda water. She was like me she said. Recovering. Always recovering. We hit it off.”

  “Oranges?” I ask.

  “Oranges,” he agrees. “She was... wasn’t what she said she was. Right down to the first lie. She wasn’t like me. She just had a good eye for the type of man I was.”

  “What kind of man was that?”

  “Persuadable. Couldn’t trust myself.” He glances at me before concentrating on emptying his glass. “She took over. I let her. Didn’t fight it when she suggested I let go of music. That it wasn’t good for us. That it wasn’t good for me and I would never be able to separate my addictions. Couldn’t conquer the doubts that came along with it anyway.”

  “I’m so sorry, Nox. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “You’re right, you didn’t know. And I’m glad you said something. I’ve been wandering around for years on the fringes of something I love. Listening to bands play here at Mayhem. Teaching guitar without being willing to pick one up myself. Writing music in my mind because as much as I tell myself to shut it off I can’t shut it out. And all the while I’m letting my own demons run all over me. Letting what Lena told me about being unable to separate music from who I was keep me from even picking up a guitar. So you were right. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to jot down a few lines when the mood strikes or pick up an acoustic every now and again. Not go back to the way it was. Just stop denying something that’s so ingrained in me.”

  “Did I just hear you say that you wanted to pick up a guitar again?” Dean leans over Nox’s shoulder, a grin plastered across his face before he yells out to Lou, “Nox wants to play again.”

  “Play? Like an instrument?” Lou stops what she’s doing, staring at us with an owl-like expression.

  “That’s what I said,” Dean slaps Nox on the back. “He wants to play.”

  “How? Why?” she asks, moving up the bar to join us. “I thought—”

  “I might have been wrong,” Nox slings his arm around my shoulder. “But I’m not talking about playing in front of crowds. Just for myself.”

  “Attention.” As a unit we glance over to where Dean stands behind the microphone on stage. When did he walk away? “We have a real treat tonight. My brother has just decided for the first time in...” his brow pulls tight and he counts on his fingers. “Well, a lot of years, that he’s finally ready to pick up a guitar. So let’s get him on stage.”

  “Fuck.” Nox growls under his breath.

  “He’s excited. This is a good thing.” Lou reaches across the bar to squeeze his shoulder. “But if you don’t want to do it, don’t.”

  Nox glances at me, waits for me to say something. I slip my hand into his. “I’m with you. We can walk out right now if you want. Or I can sit right here and watch you perform. It’s up to you.”

  “What do you say, Nox?” Dean asks, waiting for him to make up his mind.

  “Fine,” he huffs, but the corners of his mouth lift anyway. Striding to the stage he mounts the steps and moves to join Dean, stopping to pick up the guitar on his way. He lifts the strap over his head and wraps his big hand around the neck.

  “What are you going to play?” Dean asks.

  “No idea,” Nox replies, taking a seat. He settles the guitar in his lap, plucks lightly at the strings and adjusts the pegs. He does that a couple of times before he lifts his gaze to me. He plays a few chords. Shakes his head. Tries again until he comes up with something he’s happy with while Dean moves the microphone closer. He clears his throat as he weaves chords into a progression. “I’m rusty as old nails, so don’t expect any miracles, but let’s see what I can come up with on the spot.”

  He strums a few bars followed by something more complex and begins to hum, an easy smile breaking over his features. “Okay. All right.”

  “Come on,” Lou pleads behind me.

  Have they all been hoping and waiting for him to realize he can still be happy? Can still have his passions? I want to ask her, but I can’t draw my attention away from him. Especially when he starts to sing, though it’s disjointed and more of a story than a song.

  “She was a stone cold fox in a white dress,

  An angel when my head was a mess,

  And I was screaming, yes, yes, yes.

  Cause she’s got a fetish for what I got.

  Fingers that tie her all up in a knot.”

  He grins as he wiggles his fingers at me, while barely skipping a beat.

  “Something about oranges

  And a cat named Hollander.

  If she wants to leave, then I’ll follow her.

  Yeah.

  She was a stone cold fox in a white dress

  An angel when my head was a mess,

  And I was screaming yes, God, yes.

  Cause she’s got something that I need,

  Maybe one day she’ll come
to see,

  She’s my stone cold fox in a white dress,

  My angel when my head is a mess,

  And I’ll be screaming yes, yes, yes.

  Yeah, I’ll be screaming yes, God, yes

  That’s my wifey in the tight white dress”

  When he finishes he just sits there for a minute, holding the guitar on his lap with his eyes closed. My heart soars across the room to him, my smile is so big. Every fiber in my body wants to rush toward him. So this is what it feels like. This is what happens when attraction turns to something more than a chemical equation. As he puts down the guitar I fly to him. Jump up on the stage and onto his lap. People are watching us. His sister and brother are watching us, and I don’t care at all as I straddle him.

  He grins at me as he cups my face between his hands and stares into my eyes. “What did you think?”

  “I probably wouldn’t base your come back on that,” Dean says, moving the microphone away from us with a curious expression. “Don’t think it will go over all that well. It was terrible. You need some practice.”

  “I loved it,” I whisper.

  “That’s a strong word,” Nox says.

  “Is it?” I knot my hands in his shirt and lean closer. “I don’t care. What are you going to call it?”

  “Angel.”

  “I love it,” I say again.

  “It needs work,” he says. “A lot of work.”

  “You’re amazing,” I tell him. “And I’m not just saying that as your biggest groupie.”

  “My groupie?” His grin turns sensual, his gaze filled with heat that shimmers through me.

  I bite my lip and nod.

  “Well then,” he says striking his mouth against mine. Sparks sizzle from the connection. “I think we best get off the stage.”

  He unseats me from his lap and takes my hand, leading me from the stage to the wall of booths at the far end of the room. Opening the door he guides me inside. The minute the door is closed he crowds me against the wall and kisses me hungrily. “You wanna be my groupie, Angel? Wanna push your panties into my pocket and climb me like a big ol’ tree?”

  God, do I.

  “Here?” People can see through the glass doors. They can see everything that happens in these booths if they look in this direction, but the naughtiness of it has me flooded with arousal. My panties are soaked already. “What about Lou?”

  “Hmmm.” His gaze is hot on my chest, and my breasts tighten. He leans in and runs his mouth along my shoulder to my neck. “She’d probably kill one or both of us. She has a temper.”

  “We can’t.” I plant my palms on his chest at the same time he grips my hip. God, he’s hard and it does things to me. Makes it hard to be rational. But that girl with the dreadlocks is looking in our direction. This is all kinds of wrong. Even though it feels so good.

  “Soon.” He palms my ass. “How about you give me your panties until then? Shove them in my pocket. No one will know except you and me.”

  My panties in his pocket? My pussy naked under this skirt for him and only he knows it? I press my lip together and clamp down on the bolt of desire that courses through me while I nod. “How? People will see.”

  “No one can see you. You’re hidden. They can only see me.” He gathers up some of my hair and brushes it away from my collarbone so he can press a kiss there. “Push them down and wriggle out of them.”

  “Okay.” I hike up my skirt on one side and find the elastic while he nibbles and sucks on my bottom lip. Hooking a finger into it, I pull it down over my hips and thighs until they’re sitting loosely and then wriggle until they fall around my ankles. That’s what people would see if they came too close to the booth now. My panties around my ankles. I can’t believe I’m doing this for him. I can’t believe I want to.

  “Good work.” Nox stops kissing me to crouch down in front of me. Over his head, I can see a good portion of the room, but no one is watching us as I lift one foot and then the other for him to take my panties. He bunches them up in his hand and then pushes them into his back pocket as he stands up.

  Opening the booth, he ushers me out. My thighs rub against one another, slick with arousal as we go back to the bar and order another drink. Nox stands behind me, so close he’s constantly brushing up against me. He whispers in my ear all the things he plans to do to me as soon as we’re alone, until I’m struggling not to pant with how needy I am. Until I can’t bear another minute of waiting. It’s delicious agony. Being married to him is the sweetest torture. Falling for him is nothing like what I thought it would be.

  Lightning forks, slamming into the valley, blindingly bright. It lights up the sky as clear as daylight for a few seconds. My hair whips around my face, gets in my mouth and my eyes. I grasp as much of it in my fist as I can while concentrating on moving between the tree lines. Giant shadows loom across the path while thunder rumbles on and on and on like a drum roll. Another bolt snakes through the sky and the tree in front of me sizzles and bows like it’s made of rubber. Bark cracks and the tree starts to fall over me…

  Clutching my chest, I bolt up in bed. Nox’s weight is half spread over me. My pulse is still racing while I shove my damp hair back from my face. What the hell was that? Sliding to the edge of the bed, I grope around in the dark for Nox’s shirt and pull it on. It’s so hot and stuffy in the bedroom. The air seems to weigh a ton.

  Hollander lifts his head from where it was resting on Nox’s calf and blinks at me. Putting my finger to my lips, I signal him to be quiet. He yawns and stretches his giant front paws out in front of him before settling back into sleep. Getting up, I tiptoe out of the bedroom and slowly pull the door shut.

  I’ve never been a cat person or a dog person. I’ve never wanted to own a gold fish or a turtle or a ferret. I move around too much. I live in hotel rooms. Getting attached to anything doesn’t make sense. But Hollander is different. Hollander doesn’t give me an option but to care about him. Just like Nox doesn’t give me an option but to want what we could be.

  Hugging myself, I stare out the huge glass windows over the valley below. We never closed the blinds tonight. Too busy shedding our clothes and getting as close as possible. A breeze rustles the leaves of a couple nearby trees. Doesn’t stir the heat inside the cabin so I open one of the windows. Outside smells densely of fresh grass and foliage. Rain is coming. Or a storm. Like what woke me up.

  I’d Googled orange trees after Nox told me about them. Searched out everything I could find on their symbolism. There wasn’t much. Most of it was along the lines of purity and wisdom, or fruitfulness. I’d come across a little bit about relationships that fit with what he’d told me. It was mostly filed under dreams. I’d ended up reading every entry I could find. But dreams don’t mean anything. Just like a tree is a symbol of a tree, a dream about a tree is still just a dream. So what if a falling orange tree is a symbol of death.

  I mentally give myself an eye roll. Look who’s being dramatic. I rub at the goose bumps dotting my arms. Of course I’m dreaming about them after reading as much as I did. No matter how hard I try to follow the trail of common sense, doubt creeps in, and after the conversation with Liv earlier... It’s on my mind.

  The first rumble shakes the whole house.

  Lightning snaps through the sky like the flash of a camera, and I stumble as I jump back from the window. The storm is right on top of us. Another fork twists through the darkness, followed by the loudest crack. The windows rattle as fat drops pound them. They splash my fevered skin, bringing relief from the heat, as I shut the window. The floor vibrates under my bare feet. More thunder and lightning follow.

  “Can’t sleep?” Nox asks, coming up behind me.

  I shake my head. “It was too hot. And I was dreaming about a thunderstorm.”

  About orange trees falling over. About death and dying and loss. And the curse that now more than ever I don’t want to believe in.

  Because I have feelings. Very strong feelings about this husband of mine. Emotio
ns that will shatter me if we have to part. Even that seems like too much of a loss.

  “Looks like we got one.” He slips an arm around my waist, and I lean against his chest while we watch the show outside.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Marriage is weathering the storm

  Sometimes we fuck it up

  But I’d rather be fucked up with you

  Than without you

  NOX

  “Beck, you up yet?” I knock the cabin door closed with an elbow and carry the coffee and cupcakes I picked up in town into the kitchen. She didn’t sleep well last night, thanks to the storm. She’d lain awake, staring out the window most of the night. I could tell something more than the storm was on her mind with the way she curled up close to me. She’d barely fallen asleep when I had to leave this morning.

  Placing them on the counter, I head into the bedroom. Hollander’s curled up in the center of the bed, the sheets scrunched up around him. He opens one green eye.

  “Know where she is, bud?”

  Curling his head to his tail, he ignores me.

  I leave him to it. Check the bathroom. Head outside. Last night’s storm did some damage. Broken branches littered the road this morning while I was making deliveries. Debris everywhere. Couple of the metal sheets on the shed roof are loose. Nothing inside is damaged. Thank heaven for small mercies.

  I make my way around the building and down the path that leads to the grove. Don’t expect her to be down there but I need to assess the damage anyway. She probably went into town to see Liv or to the library to work on her article. My pulse gets a bit bumpy at the idea of her and Liv together. They’d practically been joined at the head yesterday, they were that deep into their whispered conversation. Can’t imagine keeping a secret would be easy between those two. Especially with the way they kept glancing at me like I was the topic.

  I stutter to a halt as I take in the picture in front of me. I left before it was light this morning, so I didn’t notice the chaos. Never seen anything like it. Almost unbelievable, except I’m seeing it with my own eyes. There aren’t just broken branches scattered about the grove, but trees. Some of them, their roots still in the ground, have fallen on each other like dominoes. A couple have been completely uprooted and thrown about like ragdolls, their tips charred gray though the buds are still green.