Page 5 of A Way Out (Rock Star #2)

Chapter Four

H olly’s sister was clearly distressed. Was she running from an abusive situation, like Oz wished his sister had done?

In the months following Raquel’s death, during the innumerable conversations with police personnel, Oz had learned one fact that was sticking with him now: marital abuse was not contained to lower-income couples.

In fact, according to one of the detectives, upper-income women were less likely to leave an abusive situation, due to the stigmas.

He wanted to help Maria. Yes, because she was Holly’s sister and Holly was his friend, and yes, because he was just that guy, but it was more than that.

As crazy as it sounded, there was some sort of pull between him and Maria, and he thought maybe she felt it too.

And it really was crazy. They were from entirely opposite lifestyles. They likely had nothing in common, except an understanding of abusive situations, maybe.

Which wasn’t exactly a firm basis for any sort of relationship.

“Why don’t we let the kids finish their lunch, and then we can go back outside?” Maria suggested. Ah, code for "I don’t want to talk in front of the children.”

Fair enough. He was perfectly fine standing here next to her, admiring the shine in her smooth, dark hair. And he was definitely okay with sneaking glances at her shapely, lean legs, which were now exposed courtesy of the swimsuit and cover-up that just skimmed her thighs.

She polished off half a sandwich and nibbled on a couple of carrot sticks. He nudged the salsa and chips toward her. “Try some.”

She did, daintily dipping a chip and holding her napkin underneath as she brought it to her lips, like a proper woman would do.

When he served salsa and chips to the kids, there were always splats of salsa all over the table when they were done.

His mom had a no-salsa-in-the-living room rule for that very reason.

“Oh my gosh, this is the best salsa I’ve ever eaten,” Maria gushed, unabashedly scooping a much larger portion onto her next chip.

“It’s Abuelita’s secret recipe,” Elana said knowingly, “although Uncle Oz has done a good job of replicating it.”

Oz beamed with pride.

“Uncle Oz?” Maria asked.

She didn’t think they were his, did she? Wow. He was only thirty-two, and Elana was thirteen. It was possible, of course, and he supposed plenty of people did start that early. It was just that he’d never even considered having kids until he suddenly had a ready-made family at twenty-eight.

The fact that he wanted so badly to explain his situation irked him. He shouldn’t care what this woman thought of him. And yet…

“They’re my sister’s kids. She passed away, and now my mom and I are raising them.”

Maria’s eyes went huge. “Oh wow. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks.” Four years later, it still burned in his chest a little when he mentioned Raquel, but it was manageable these days. Not that he had any interest in expanding on the details.

Daniel and Elana declared themselves done, and Izzie automatically followed suit, even though she’d been in the middle of taking a bite of her sandwich. Riley watched her push her plate away and immediately copied the action.

Oz smiled. Izzie was so used to being the youngest, the one who tried so hard to do whatever her older siblings did; it had to be strange to have a smaller person now doing the same to her.

“Dishes in the dishwasher,” he announced. “Scrape whatever is on your plates into the trash first.”

His three automatically did as they were told. This was a standard routine for them.

Riley slid off her stool, with Maria’s help, and then reached up for her plate, but Maria lifted it for her.

“I want to do it,” Riley demanded, stretching her arms over her head.

“Honey, it’s a breakable plate. I’ll do it,” Maria said.

“I want to do it,” Riley demanded again.

“Sweetheart, next time we’ll find you a plastic plate and then you can do it, okay?”

Riley’s bottom lip quivered.

“It’s okay,” Oz said quickly. “It’s right here. Let her try.”

“But—”

“I’ll pay for it if she breaks the plate.” God, he hoped Holly and Sam didn’t have kitchenware that cost a hundred bucks a setting or something obscene like that.

Maria hesitated for another moment and then gently placed the plate in both of Riley’s hands before pointing at the drawer where the trash container was kept. “Very carefully go over there and dump this stuff into the trash.”

Riley had torn the crusts off her sandwich after watching Izzie eat hers crustless.

Once the toddler successfully completed that task, Maria said, “Now, can you place it in the dishwasher, just like the others?”

Chest puffed out with pride, Riley did exactly that, and then she looked at Izzie, who grinned back.

“Good job,” his approving eight-year-old said.

“Pool!” Riley announced.

“Let’s go,” Izzie said, offering her hand. Riley clasped it, and the two of them rushed toward the patio.

Chuckling, Oz turned and caught Maria swiping a tear off her cheek.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Sorry. It’s just…she hasn’t had much interaction with other kids. She’s either been with me or the nanny for her entire life. I…she was supposed to start preschool in the fall.”

Lots to unpack in that statement. “Do you want something to drink before we head out and let them get in the pool? Beer? Wine? Mixed drink? Water?”

“I’m not much of a drinker.” She paused. “But a glass of wine sounds lovely.”

“You got it.” He opened the wine fridge. “Red or white? I doubt they have the pink stuff—oh wait, what’s this? Rosé.” He held up the bottle. “Want to try it?”

“That’s not quite the same as the pink stuff you are imagining.”

“Oh.” He started to slide it back into the fridge.

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s better, actually.”

Oh, okay. He didn’t know shit about wine, other than, generally, women like Maria drank it.

Since there was a bar outside stocked with stemless wineglasses and a fridge, he carried the bottle with him as he escorted Maria out to the patio.

Once Riley was fitted with her life vest, the kids charged for the pool. Oz poured wine for him and Maria, and then he snagged a second lounger to situate next to the one he’d been chilling in earlier.

He took a tentative sip of the wine. “It’s not sweet. But I like it.”

He was rewarded by Maria’s breathtaking smile.

Totally worth it.

“Okay, hit me,” he said when they were settled.

She sipped her wine delicately. “With what?” she finally asked.

“I promised to be your sounding board, remember?”

“Oh. Right. I…”

He waited. The kids had been like this for months after Raquel’s death. Very clearly wanting to talk but unsure what to say, how to say it, whether it was right. Whatever it was.

Maria clutched her wineglass in her lap, staring down at it like it would tell her fortune.

“I’m, well, I’m currently homeless.” She lifted her gaze to the sky. “God, that sounds so weird.”

“Not really.” If she’d walked away from an abusive situation in a hurry, it wasn’t weird at all.

She gave him a swift glance before taking another sip. “I didn’t think, didn’t realize the timing. I just figured if I could get here, I could stay with Holly until I worked out my next steps.”

“You can still do that. I mean, I assume Holly won’t turn you away.”

“No, she won’t, but she isn’t here. I mean, I had planned to go to the wedding anyway.

I just didn’t pay attention, didn’t realize it was this coming weekend.

We have flights booked, but they’re from Seattle.

And I wasn’t even thinking about flying with a toddler when I packed to drive here.

All the stuff she requires. Plus, my hair products.

I can’t fly with a big bottle of shampoo. ”

She paused and closed her eyes. “God, I’m babbling.”

“You’re not. You’re releasing stress. I’m a good listener, so keep going if you want to.”

She opened her eyes and gave him another of those dazzling smiles. He wanted to do whatever he could to keep her lips tipped up like that.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Hey, remember, I’m going to the wedding, too, so I’ll be there if you need to continue releasing stress.”

“Oh, that’s right. When are you flying out?”

“I’m not. I’m driving out on Thursday. My band is playing at the reception.”

“You’re driving? God, what a long drive. Wait, you’re in a band?”

He chuckled at the surprise in her voice. “Yeah.”

Her gaze swept over the kids playing in the pool. “You’re all going?”

He shook his head. He imagined his nieces and nephews would love it, but the food bills alone would cripple his nearly empty bank account.

“My mother is coming over tomorrow and will stay until I’m back.”

“How long are you out there?”

“Just through the weekend.” He had to be back to work at his landscaping job on Monday morning.

“Oh my God, you’re driving halfway across the country and back in a single weekend? That’s insane.”

He shrugged. He didn’t have much of a choice. Well, he could have turned down Holly and Sam when they asked Demigoddess Revival to perform at their reception, but that wouldn’t have been fair to the rest of the band.

“Why don’t you fly?” she pressed.

“Can’t afford it.” He put it right out there, didn’t even hesitate to make it clear that they were from opposite sides of the tracks.

Years ago, when he joined his first band and started playing quinceaneras, he got hit on regularly by the single ladies at the parties. Sometimes even the married ones.

None of them cared about him; they all just wanted to brag that they’d slept with the guitarist in a band, even though that band wasn’t worth bragging about.

In the beginning, he’d taken them up on their offers.

Who wouldn’t have? But it quickly became obvious that he had nothing in common with these women.

They had nothing to talk about when they weren’t having sex.

When his bed partner chatted about her life, he was clueless, having zero experience with the types of situations that were everyday occurrences for people with an abundance of money at their disposal.

And when he talked about his own life, they looked down their nose at him, every single one of them.

He eventually developed an unhealthy chip on his shoulder and quit accepting the offers.

Maria was undoubtedly no different. Yes, she was running away from an abusive situation, which gave them common ground, but come on. Who wanted that kind of common ground?

Not him. He hated thinking about what his sister went through, how hard it had been to help the kids adjust to life without her.

Which meant yes, he’d be a sounding board for Maria, but he was going to quit looking at her gorgeous legs and quit thinking about how cute Izzie and her daughter were together.

Maria was Holly’s sister, period. Nothing else. To him, at least.

“I could?—”

“No. I got it.” He had no idea what she was about to say. She could pay for his ticket? She could drive with him? She could stay at a hotel instead of here at the house?

Didn’t matter—he didn’t want to hear it. She had her life, and he had his.

And that’s the way it was going to stay.