Romance: North: (Hot New Adult Bad Boy Romance, Alpha Male Rock Star Rebel Romance) (Contemporary Mystery and Romantic Suspense Short Stories) by Jade Allen Read Free Book Online

them,” Mary said tartly. “I don’t even care if it’s not formal or whatever. My mom might be a fucking drunk, but she raised me with standards.”
    I shook my head, torn between amusement and amazement. “I told you she’s a head case,” I told Mark as Mary went back down the hall. “She’s going to the store to buy refreshments for you and the guys.”
    “Hey, sounds like a classy woman to me,” Mark said agreeably. “Give me the address and I’ll get everyone together and over there.”
    Mary came back out of the hallway, her makeup touched up, shoes on her feet, and her purse in hand; I got her address and gave it to Mark. “Can I come with you?”
    Mary considered it for a moment. “Probably better for you not to,” she said finally, looking at me levelly. “I’ll get in and out of the store faster on my own. Just relax for a bit, I’m just going around the block.” I’d seen a Publix, and assumed that was probably where she was planning to go.
    “Okay,” I said. I knew better than to try and argue with her right at that moment. She had a look on her face that I recognized with a little inner twinge; the look my mom got when she was determined to get her way on something. “Mind if I play with your guitar?”
    Mary’s face softened, and she smiled. “You do realize that sounds incredibly dirty in a certain way,” she said, shifting her weight onto one leg.
    I laughed. “Well, now that we’ve been kicked out of that place for fucking, no reason not to keep doing it now, is there?” Mary held my gaze for a long moment, and I wondered—briefly—if she was reconsidering inviting me, or allowing me to invite my band mates over.
    “We’ll see,” Mary said, and turned to leave. “You can play the guitar if you want.”

****
    “They’re a band, not a football team,” I said, eyeing the lavish spread that Mary had laid out on her kitchen table. I tried to picture her in Publix, rushing through the aisles, grabbing up this, that, and the other thing.
    “You say that like I’ve never met a musician before,” Mary said blandly. “You’re all always starving, and you’re all always thirsty.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not.” Mary laughed. She had certainly managed to get together enough food to feed everyone—and with enough variety to make sure that no one could possibly say that there was nothing they wanted to eat. Chicken tenders—the food of the gods, Publix’s deli specialty—were piled on a tray; next to them were a few containers of different salads: potato salad with mustard, macaroni salad, and some fluffy green pistachio-and-fruit concoction. She’d also grabbed a tray of cheese and crackers, and a container of mixed fruit from the produce section. There was a gallon of iced tea (sweet), a half-gallon of unsweetened iced tea, and a half-gallon of lemonade.
    “I would’ve picked up a case of beer, but you’re supposed to be sober right now.” Mary looked at me archly.
    “I’m not a fucking child, Mary,” I protested. “I don’t have to drink beer just because it’s around.”
    “You’ve been sober for what—two and a half weeks maybe? I’m not going to throw temptation at you.” Mary crossed her arms over her chest, and I felt a rush of heat—it was only too easy to remember what her breasts looked like underneath her clothes, how they’d looked when she’d ridden me the week before. “And if they bring beer, it’s staying in their car and you’re not going near it. Understood?”
    I groaned. “What is this, a halfway house?”
    Mary set her jaw. “As far as you’re concerned, yes,” she told me firmly. “I’m not fucking up your sobriety just because my bad choices helped you get kicked out of rehab.”
    “Right, because I was so committed to my recovery as it was; and it was entirely your fault that we fucked. I had no choice in the matter and totally didn’t encourage you in the least.”
    Mary’s