Irresistible Refrain

decency. Where War’s hand rested on the bared skin of her leg though way, way up on her thigh beneath the hem of her dress wasn’t decent. It was crass. It sent the wrong message about the kind of woman Lace was. I could tell by her downcast expression that it was only reinforcing this new low opinion she held of herself. I was sure now that I shouldered some of the blame for that, but dammit, War was treating her like one of the groupies.

He shifted in front of her blocking my view.

Access denied.

If I hadn’t panicked that night, if I hadn’t made that stupid comment to Dizzy, could it have been us together right now, her eyes shining up at me, her face tilted up to mine?

I should let it go, let her go, but that’s what I had done two years ago and I didn’t know if I had it in me to do again, even for War.

I swallowed and moved to stare out the windows, gaze unfocused, as my mind rewound to high school to that day when Lace first walked back into my life again, no longer a child but a beautiful woman, one that turned out to be far beyond my reach.

4 years ago

“Bryan Jackson!” Hearing my name, I slammed my locker closed and turned around. “Dizzy.” I grinned, dropped my back pack on the tile, and clapped my old friend on the back.

“Since when did you start going to Roosevelt High?” he asked.

“As of today. My mom just finished nursing school. She got a job at Seattle General. We moved into the Grammercy Apartments on Rosedale”

“Nice.”

“How’ve things been since you moved out? You still living with your uncle?”

“Yeah. It’s ok. I guess.” Dizzy fell into step beside me like we’d never been parted as we headed out of the building. “Sure as hell better than it was living with her.”

“How’s Lace?” I asked, pushing the bar to open the heavy outside door.

“I don’t know. She kinda goes her own way now, and I go mine. She’s gotten a huge attitude, though,” he muttered, zipping up his hoodie. “Her head’s so big it practically needs its own zip code.”

“I can see that happening. She sure used to have a thing for hogging center stage,” I quipped.

“You don’t know the half of it. You should come by. See for yourself,” Dizzy said with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. “I need to get to work, but why don’t you come by later, around nine? My uncle works the nightshift and a group of us usually hang out in the garage. I’ve got a used amp and a Fender I’d like to show you. It doesn’t sound too bad.”

“No shit. You any good?”

He shrugged. “I’m working on it.”

“I sure as hell would like to try out your Fender.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I have a beat up Epiphone I could bring over.”

“Sounds great. And if you need an amp, I could hook you up with one.”

“Cool.” I adjusted the strap on my back pack. “You mind if I bring a friend? He actually sings pretty good.”

“Sure, man. Whatever.” An Oldsmobile that was more bondo than metal pulled up alongside them. “That’s my ride.” Dizzy gave me a fist bump. “See ya then.”

Around nine fifteen, War and I sauntered up the short driveway to the detached garage, loud music and a pack of teens greeted our arrival. Dizzy handed us a couple of red solo cups filled with beer as soon as we entered. We sat down to get acquainted, but before long I noticed that War had lost focus on the conversation. His gaze was riveted on something over my shoulder.

“Dude.” War suddenly grabbed Dizzy’s arm and pointed. “Who’s that smoking babe?”

Dizzy turned around. “My sister,” he groaned and rolled his eyes.

Holy shit, I thought. Hair that used to lean more toward dark gold had lightened. It was long and straight now and the curled ends brushed across the top of a really nice looking pair of tits. She was practically falling out of the tight camisole and sweater set she wore. Her narrow hips and long slender legs were sexy as hell in a pair of tight jeans. No wonder War was distracted.

Lace Lowell was a total knockout.

The guy she was currently talking to touched her arm. A primal urge rose up inside of me. I wanted to push that guy the fuck away from her. Evidently feeling the weight of our stares, Lace pivoted in our direction. Those familiar whisky eyes met mine in a collision that left me reeling afterward. She blinked slowly before her lips curved up and she glided over, hips drawing my attention as they swayed.

Before I had a chance to make my move, War intercepted her. Grabbing her by the arms, he pulled her into him, even rocking his hips suggestively near hers. “Hey, beautiful,” he began, using the same line I’d heard him use a hundred times before. “Names Warren. Friends call me War. You can call me whatever the fuck you want.” He eased back, looked her over, and shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, you’re hot, baby.”

Her cheeks turned as pink as her sweater set.

War intertwined his fingers with hers and led her over. I felt my stomach take a crashing nose dive into the pavement. She wasn’t even likely to notice me with War around. Women took to War even more readily now than they had when we’d been in middle school. To my dismay, it appeared that Lace was no exception.

“We were just talking about our band. I’m the lead singer,” War told her.

Seriously? We didn’t have a band. We’d only just discussed the idea a couple of minutes ago. But that was just like War. He’d shoot off his mouth and throw out a grandiose idea even if most of the time nothing ever came of it.

“Lace,” I began, my tongue suddenly too thick for my mouth. “It’s good to see you.” I discovered she was even more gorgeous up close. The garage spotlights made her hair shine. Her amber eyes sparkled with laughter. Her smile was sexy as hell, and her lips practically begged to be kissed.

“Bry,” she returned, her voice low and flirty as she checked me out from my button down to my boots. “You grew up nice.”

“You, too, Lace.” I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my pants. Hoping she couldn’t tell that there was a lot more up at the moment than just my height. I’d never felt so tongue tied or so undone by a girl.

“A band, huh?” Her smile widened, and she shifted her body toward War. “You’ve certainly got the arrogance to be a lead singer.” She reached over and touched his face, tilting his chin one way and then the other as she studied him. “You’re definitely handsome enough to pull it off.” Her voice had lowered to a sexy purr that sizzled like an electrical current beneath my skin.

Then she turned to me. “So, if he’s the lead, you’d be…” She paused and I filled in.

“The guitarist.”

“Ah Slash, I should have guessed. Just like when we were kids.”

I nodded, my heart thundering inside my chest. I wanted her to touch me like she’d touched War. She trailed her eyes over me instead, a half lidded lingering appraisal.

“Yeah,” she said huskily. “You could totally rock the brooding guitarist role. I’d throw my panties at you.”

“Would you now?” I leaned in, playing the game, cocking a brow.

“Uh-huh” She leaned in too, her face tilted up. “If I was wearing any,” she whispered.

Holy hell! I reached for her arm, but War pulled me away from her.

“I need a beer,” War announced.

“What?” My mind was still turning over the panties thing.

“You thirsty, babe?” War asked Lace over my shoulder.

“I could use a beer, Mr. McMoves.”

“Alright.” War laughed. “We’ll be right back.”

Reluctantly, I followed War. While he filled a cup from the keg, my mind remained preoccupied with thoughts of Lace.

“Bryan.” War shook my arm.

“Huh?”

“I’ve gotta have her.”

“Lace?” I laughed. “You only just met her.”