Return of the Mack // Mark Morrison

A week later the entire crew has a long layover in town. The tour is on hiatus for two nights. A gift. Everyone gets a break, including roadies. We've been working practically nonstop. I haven't had another second with Char since I was a stowaway on her silver bullet. I have a feeling she's avoiding me. But tonight, that all changes.

The crew and some of the band are out at a club on our first night off. No Zack or Bree. They stayed in. Lovey-dovey bastards. Some C1 guys—Alex and Seth—and a few of us roadies are in the VIP section. I'm sitting on a lounger, sipping a draft beer and watching Char.

We'd had a stare off at the door of her silver bullet days ago before she acquiesced, sitting down to talk to me. She agreed to repair my image by being seen with me, in public, without me being any kind of a player. She's supposed to tell me when I'm doing whatever it is she thinks I do that create rumors keeping me from getting roles. I told her in return, I'd help her to get over the incident she still hasn't fully explained. I'd help her have some fun, unwind. She rolled her eyes but shook my hand anyway. She may not admit it out loud, but she knows she needs to let her hair down.

I found myself looking at her and wondering how we'd gotten to that point. The point where she was almost willing to talk to me about the deep things. I was used to the banter, used to the distance she kept herself from me, the wall she put up. Seeing Char let those walls down and trust me, even with the sliver I got, changed something between us. I'm looking at her through a new lense.

When I asked about her brother, about what fueled him to attack Curt, she glared at me.

"It wasn't an attack," she'd said. The heat behind her eyes surprised me, even though it shouldn't have. The heat is what draws me to her, I've just never seen it behind her eyes and not directed at me. This heat had nothing to do with me and my ignorance about the incident. It had everything to do with whatever was going on that she didn't want to say.

I pushed a little more.

"Then what was it? Talk to me, Char." That plea was enough to soften her a fraction. Enough for her to open just a crack.

"That was my brother defending my honor." But that's all she would to say. Even when I waited in stilted silence for her to continue.

Doesn't matter what. Now that I know a hint of the why I'm just biding my time to push Ryan or Alex on this a little deeper. Something isn't sitting right. And I need to know what it is. Brothers don't attack random guys for no reason. What did Curt do to her? I don't like the thoughts swirling through my head in answer to the question, and I don't like how I imagine reacting to the truth. I might just go find Curt myself, deal with him on my terms.

I shake the thoughts away, glancing at her across the club.

She's here as a babysitter. At least, that's the impression I got when she rolled her eyes once we told her where we were going. She bitched about the noise and needing to get work done the entire way here. Even after I reminded her it was part of our agreement. I take her on a date every extended stop of this tour.

With music blaring and the entire club vibing to it, I watch Char from my seat on the lounger. She's at a high top, phone out responding to emails. Looking at her in this setting, working like a corporate fucker, pisses me off. Most of us are dressed to party. I'm in my nicest jeans and a black t-shirt that fits like a glove. I worked hard for the biceps. Might as well show them off. But Char's all business, dress slacks with high gloss heels and a silky blouse that covers everything up. At least she got the color right. Something about red on this spicy redhead is perfect for her. It's the woman I know she is deep down. Someone I haven't seen in a while.

I miss the kick ass spitfire I first met. She had sass that got me hot. She had energy and fire in her eyes. She was unstoppable in her protection of her best friend and client. She'd pushed her way up the ladder from assistant, learning the management ropes as she went, and making a name for herself. But the horror before me practically breaks my heart. She's hiding all of that now behind a suit and a smartphone. That's not the deal we made and I'm about to do something to fix it.

I approach her from the back. It's so loud in here I don't even have to work hard at being stealth. I'm standing right behind her, close enough to reach around her shoulder and grab her phone—which I do—putting it in my back pocket. She spins toward me. I take her by the wrists gently and pin them behind her back with a loose grip. She could easily pull away but doesn't. She looks into my eyes, something in hers I can't place. I like her like this. Close. Open. Vulnerable. But also, completely unpredictable because I know she could knee me in the balls at any moment. But she doesn't. My gaze drops to her lips. I should be shocked at how badly I want to kiss her, but I'm not. It's been building since the first morning we met. When I look up, her eyes have narrowed.

"You told me to tell you when you play. You're playing. Stop."

But I'm not. This is real. She's right though, this is something I'd do in the past to get a girl's attention. To see if I could get a reaction. I'm getting one now, but it's not what I want. I realize I need her to look at me the way I'm looking at her. With want. And, oh fuck, how I want her. It's always been simmering between us. But here, in this position, with the way her mouth is just...right...there...

"Stop."

I pull away quickly but not before one final glance at her lips. Luscious, very kissable lips.

"You need to loosen up. Let me help you find balance, okay?" That's what I offered her out of the deal. She never put into words what she's hiding, or why. She never said she wanted to change things up. But she also never objected when I said I'd help her blow off steam. "This is me helping you." It takes everything in me to keep from caressing her cheek. I want to touch her. Badly.

"Do it without the handsy crap." I feel her pull out of my grip. I let her go immediately.

"You sure about that?" I eye her chest, heaving somewhat with unrestrained...lust? It sure looks like lust from this vantage point.

"Deadly."

My eyes snap back up to hers. The heat I see makes me wonder, but I'm not even going to attempt to push this woman. If I push too hard, the heat I see with the potential to lead to more might morph into heat that could singe my balls.

"Noted."

"But, you need to dance with me. I'll keep my hands in respectable places." I raise a brow. It's a challenge. I know she doesn't want to dance but I can't let her stay here in her emails all night. We're at an afterhours club for God sakes.

"Fine," she says flatly.

"Fine? Just fine?" I shake my head. "I ask you to dance and you say fine. I'm losing my touch I'll hope you know."

"I thought that was the plan." Another flat response.

I laugh. "Yeah, I guess it was." I grab her by the hand, a respectable place. She pulls away but follows me anyway.

We get to the dance floor. I turn to face her, grab her by the waist and pull her closer. Char quirks her brow at me this time. I offer the same face back to her. The waist is respectable.

"If we're doing this, we're doing it right," I say.

"I'd prefer not to be a spectacle." Char glances around us. But no one's looking. Who are we? No one recognizes us. No one knows us here. No one cares.

"I didn't bring you out here for attention." My hands still on her waist, I turn us slowly to the beat of the music, some god-awful house mix with hints of popular songs here and there. The lights are flashing in pinks and blues. The floor vibrates with the bass. People are packed close together while dancing, to the point that Char has no choice but to touch me.

"Then why the dirty dancing?" She asks as her arms wrap around my shoulders. A respectable spot. I get the feeling it was an unconscious move on her part.

I tilt my head slightly. "Dirty? Oh no, baby. You haven't seen dirty, yet."

"Oh god." Her words are barely spoken, soft syllables released with a puff of air as I pull her closer, our chests melding together and her legs tangling in between mine. Respectably.

As our bodies press against each other, I release her waist with one hand and guide the small of her back with the other. I roll my hips. She closes her eyes and follows my moves. I sway and twist. She follows. On this dance floor, I've taken the lead and she's along for the ride.

But damn.

She's meeting me move for move. Her eyes are closed now. Her body relaxed. I watch in awe as her head dips back and it's all I can do not to follow the motion with my lips, outline the curve of her chin, her neck, her collar bone, with gentle nips.

The songs blend from one into another without a break. The crowd around us jumps up and down, this song moving faster than the one before. But our movement stays the same, slow. Sensual.

Fucking hot.

One arm still locked around Char's waist as we sway and roll, I can't help what I do next. Her head tips back again. My hand rises to cup her cheek before running my thumb down her exposed neck. Her eyes open. She pulls her head up, eyes finding mine, wide with something I can't place. I'm hoping it's whatever I'm feeling. Mad fucking attraction.

"Is this your ego?"

I freeze. All motion ceases, including the dancing. We're standing in this middle of the dance floor in a weird standoff.

What the fuck just happened?

"What, the way I admire your skills? You're a good dancer, Char."

She answers me with a hard look. "Right. That's all it was. Admiration."

"Um, yeah? It was." Fuck. Why do I feel like I just got called into the principal's office?

She shakes her head. "It's the textbook player moves. I've known too many guys like you, Jake. Guys with egos."

For maybe the first time ever, I ignore her use of that damned nickname. I look deeply into her eyes instead. This comes down to trust. Char doesn't trust me. But her words just now have given me a window into her soul. She doesn't trust anyone. Ah. Now I understand what's really going on. And another realization hits me square between the eyes.

I want her trust.

More than a stupid role I can't seem to land. More than a better reputation. More than the fame I've spent years chasing.

None of that has ever burned me up as hard as this woman has. She doesn't trust me. And yeah, that hits me in the ego but more so, it hits me in the heart. Because how fucking amazing would it be to earn her trust? The woman who trusts no one.

So, I slowly pull my hand from where I'd been holding her waist. I slide it across her hips, letting my touch linger a few seconds longer. Telling her I'm only letting go because she asked, not because I'm finished with her.

"Baby, you've got my ego in your hands." I lean closer, whispering in her ear, letting my lips brush against its shell as I speak. The satisfaction I feel when Char shivers a fractional amount could be considered shameful. But I own it with a smirk.

"Do me a favor. Don't crush it too hard." I press the gentlest kiss possible high on her cheek. Then I turn and leave her on the dance floor.

Hoping she wants more.

"It wouldn't take much, it's so small," she shouts from behind.

Fuck. I'm screwed.

A little bit of spice in this one!! I really do think it's going to be a bit more heat than my usual story. So be prepared! It's fun to write this from Jacob's POV and keep you guessing what Char is thinking. Hopefully she'll start opening up soon 😉

Return of the Mack is a perfect club song from way back when, and the vibe of their dance moves, too!

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Have you met the boys of Fallbrook Hills? It's the series that started it all. Garrett, Nico, Matt and Jeff got the ball rolling for the Fallbrook Hills universe (including the Hollywood Story series, the Blue Bloods series and the Salt Creek Novella series)