Chasing the Sun (A Rebound Novella Book 2) by Nikki Mathis Thompson Page A
Authors: Nikki Mathis Thompson
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shorts.
“The offer had a forty-five minute time limit, but I guess I can make an exception for groveling’s sake.”
“So this is how you grovel, huh? Giving an admitted chocoholic her fix.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t sound so sure of yourself, handsome.”
“Well, is it working?”
“Marginally.”
“Then, yes, this is how I grovel and whatever else you need me to do.”
He’d closed the gap between them, pulling her into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her citrus-scented curls.
He wasn’t apologizing for sleeping with Rory, but that Trey was hurt because of it.
Trey wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed.
“I know. That’s why I’m here. None of this is your fault…I’m sorry too.”
He pulled back.
“What for?”
“Well, for being all territorial about Rory. Having a meltdown in front of you. For acting casual about everything and then blindsiding you with all my emotional shit. For being a bad friend. …it wasn’t fair.” She’d counted each one off with her fingers. She always did that, he found it endearing.
“You aren’t a bad friend. You’re the exact opposite. You’ve made being here infinitely more bearable. Scratch that, you’ve made it unforgettable.”
“That’s nice and all, but I’m still standing here, crepe-free.”
He laughed and hooked her around the neck.
“Come on.”
That night he reclaimed his stool at the Royal. Things seemed back to normal and he was so relieved. He hadn’t really understood the depth of his foul mood until it had lifted. Only people he really cared about had the ability to get him so twisted.
Trey set a frothy pint in front of him with a wink.
This was the first time he’d been in since his performance. It had gone well, but he was still surprised when so many people approached him, complimenting the set and asking if he was going to play again. The answer to that was no, but he appreciated the accolades. Several women came up and slipped him their numbers. What was it with chicks and musicians?
Trey grabbed one number clad napkin in particular and torched it with a lighter, right in front of him.
“Hey!”
“She has smelly cat,” she said flatly.
He laughed. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, trust me. I can tell an unsavory bush from twenty paces.”
This time he choked on his beer.
“Trey, that sounds like a super power.”
“It is and you’re welcome,” she said and walked off.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ian walked behind a group of suits, their shoes making a collective clack on the cement floor. He glanced down and wished he’d given his own wingtips a polish. The museum build was finished save for a few final landscaping items being planted. The curator and her team were busy hanging and re-hanging paintings and photographs stretched across canvases. Today they were doing a preview, a dog and pony show for the investors and board of directors.
The owner of his architecture firm was toward the front of the pack as well as the VP of the construction company. Ian was in the back with the project engineer and project manager. As usual, the day to day guys were relegated to the flunky section trailing behind the guys with the check books and the fancy titles.
No skin off his nose.
He hated this part, but the invitation only opening was being held in a few days—he was excited for that. He was allotted four invitations each with a plus one, so he was able to include his mom and dad, Lucas and Viv, Trey, and Rory. He was taking Rory. Trey was going to meet him there. Neither his sister Tessa nor Maddie could make it. Maddie had called him that morning sounding like she was on death’s doorstep.
“I can make it, I should feel fine by Friday.” It was more of a prolonged groan than actual speech.
“Mads, you’ve been throwing up for 24 hrs and you still have a fever. I don’t think you will be up for driving down here by tomorrow.”
“Pffft. I’ll be fine. Don’t
“The offer had a forty-five minute time limit, but I guess I can make an exception for groveling’s sake.”
“So this is how you grovel, huh? Giving an admitted chocoholic her fix.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t sound so sure of yourself, handsome.”
“Well, is it working?”
“Marginally.”
“Then, yes, this is how I grovel and whatever else you need me to do.”
He’d closed the gap between them, pulling her into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her citrus-scented curls.
He wasn’t apologizing for sleeping with Rory, but that Trey was hurt because of it.
Trey wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed.
“I know. That’s why I’m here. None of this is your fault…I’m sorry too.”
He pulled back.
“What for?”
“Well, for being all territorial about Rory. Having a meltdown in front of you. For acting casual about everything and then blindsiding you with all my emotional shit. For being a bad friend. …it wasn’t fair.” She’d counted each one off with her fingers. She always did that, he found it endearing.
“You aren’t a bad friend. You’re the exact opposite. You’ve made being here infinitely more bearable. Scratch that, you’ve made it unforgettable.”
“That’s nice and all, but I’m still standing here, crepe-free.”
He laughed and hooked her around the neck.
“Come on.”
That night he reclaimed his stool at the Royal. Things seemed back to normal and he was so relieved. He hadn’t really understood the depth of his foul mood until it had lifted. Only people he really cared about had the ability to get him so twisted.
Trey set a frothy pint in front of him with a wink.
This was the first time he’d been in since his performance. It had gone well, but he was still surprised when so many people approached him, complimenting the set and asking if he was going to play again. The answer to that was no, but he appreciated the accolades. Several women came up and slipped him their numbers. What was it with chicks and musicians?
Trey grabbed one number clad napkin in particular and torched it with a lighter, right in front of him.
“Hey!”
“She has smelly cat,” she said flatly.
He laughed. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, trust me. I can tell an unsavory bush from twenty paces.”
This time he choked on his beer.
“Trey, that sounds like a super power.”
“It is and you’re welcome,” she said and walked off.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ian walked behind a group of suits, their shoes making a collective clack on the cement floor. He glanced down and wished he’d given his own wingtips a polish. The museum build was finished save for a few final landscaping items being planted. The curator and her team were busy hanging and re-hanging paintings and photographs stretched across canvases. Today they were doing a preview, a dog and pony show for the investors and board of directors.
The owner of his architecture firm was toward the front of the pack as well as the VP of the construction company. Ian was in the back with the project engineer and project manager. As usual, the day to day guys were relegated to the flunky section trailing behind the guys with the check books and the fancy titles.
No skin off his nose.
He hated this part, but the invitation only opening was being held in a few days—he was excited for that. He was allotted four invitations each with a plus one, so he was able to include his mom and dad, Lucas and Viv, Trey, and Rory. He was taking Rory. Trey was going to meet him there. Neither his sister Tessa nor Maddie could make it. Maddie had called him that morning sounding like she was on death’s doorstep.
“I can make it, I should feel fine by Friday.” It was more of a prolonged groan than actual speech.
“Mads, you’ve been throwing up for 24 hrs and you still have a fever. I don’t think you will be up for driving down here by tomorrow.”
“Pffft. I’ll be fine. Don’t
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