Hammers & Heartstrings (The Riley Siblings #3)

2. Aggie

Chapter Two

AGGIE

An eviction notice.

T hat’s what was on my bedroom door this morning.

An eviction notice, handwritten in pink sparkly scrawly lettering.

The paper was purple and smelled like cotton candy.

The I’s were dotted with hearts.

My full name was in bubble letters drawn to look like balloons.

It was the prettiest eviction notice I’ve ever gotten and unfortunately for me, since moving to New Orleans right out of high school, I’ve gotten a lot. Definitely enough to know that the one left by Mary Catherine—MC, as she likes to be called—was the prettiest, most polite one I’ve ever received.

Even when she backdated it to two weeks ago because it was the last time I paid rent, which only gives me about a week and a half to move my shit out of her house and find somewhere else to live. Mary Catherine was very polite and grammatically correct throughout the entire note.

If I actually liked living in that three-bedroom turn of the century doll house with two ex-cheerleaders desperately trying to relive their glory days while they inappropriately attended the local football games packed with teenagers as early thirty-something hooker Barbies, I’d probably be a lot more upset.

This has been coming for a while though, and not just because I want to tear my dreads out at the roots every time I hear a two four six eight, pay us rent and don’t be late .

I didn’t really fit in with Mary Catherine and her BFFAE . Not that I wanted to, I’m finally at a point in my life where I really don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me, nor do I feel the need to try to fit in anywhere. I’m thirty-four years old for fuck’s sake. If I can’t be happy with who I am, then what’s the fucking point? But still, it helps when you’re broke as fuck to find roommates you’re semi-compatible with and I’m not sure I have anything in common with MC and Chrissy Ann other than big tits and vaginas.

The only color in my wardrobe is one variation or the other of black, and those two dress like a unicorn with IBS had a go at them.

I have dreads, they get their hair blown out and stripped regularly.

I enjoy music and art, reading and watching true crime, where their appreciation for art doesn’t go beyond the silly little designs painted on their acrylic nails and it’s entirely possible neither of them can read higher than a sixth-grade level.

I didn’t come from money despite the misconception that I have it because of my personal connections, and those two are bona fide southern debutants complete with trust funds that mean they’ll never have to work so long as they keep their daddies happy.

The list goes on really, the ways I should have known living with Mary Catherine and Chrissy Ann was doomed from the start, so this adorable little eviction notice isn’t surprising at all.

At least Tank will be happy.

He can’t stand either of those women, and they are completely terrified of him, so I’m sure my pitweiler won’t mind the fact that we are most likely looking at a few weeks living out of my car. Hopefully parked behind the shop to make things easier.

“You don’t care about that, do ya bud?” I smile down at my pooch, his enormous brick head sitting on my feet. “You’d rather live anywhere than with those bimbos, huh, baby?”

Tank’s tail thumps against the floor and his ears twitch, but that’s all I get in way of his approval. He’s probably the most chill dog to ever exist, especially when you compare him to my brother’s three Frenchies, just don’t piss him off. A pissed off Tank Riley is scary enough to make a grown man shit his pants any day. I should know, I’ve seen him do it. And that’s only one of the many reasons my dog is the best good boy ever.

“We’ll figure it out.” I sigh then turn back to my fancy two week notice I’m seriously considering buying a frame for. “Mama always figures it out and this won’t be any different.”

“Figure what out?” A voice asks from the doorway of my workroom.

I lift my eyes and smirk at Ash—Ashlee Rider—co-owner and head tattoo artist of Inked in Sin, one of the premiere tattoo parlors just outside the Main Quarter.

“Nothing.”

His dark eyes narrow. “Aggie...”

“I swear. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Problems at home again?”

Ugh .

I knew it was a bad idea to vent to Ash. It was kinda hard not to though. I wear my emotions on my sleeve and the last time I had an issue with MC, I spilled my guts to him over our traditional end of the day beer. Then I wound up crashing at his place for two days and falling back in his bed after trying to end our friends-with-benefits arrangement months ago.

Ash is a good guy, a deceptively good guy with a fire engine red mohawk, dark green eyes and more tattoos than I’ve ever given since becoming an artist at nineteen. We had a good thing going for a while, totally platonic fucking after we closed, a no strings attached sort of thing we’d indulge in when he was single, but after a couple years of doing that, Ash started hinting at maybe wanting more. If I did real relationships, was emotionally available, and didn’t have a world of baggage, he’s the type of guy I could entertain committing to.

Problem is, I don’t do relationships because I’ve been burned one too many times, I’m not emotionally available and probably never will be, and the baggage I have makes it even harder to get close to me than I’m willing to allow. There’s just too much shit in my life that keeps me from getting my own HEA, one like my brother writes about in his books.

“It’s fine, Ash. No worries.”

He frowns. “Aggie, I can tell it’s not fine. Talk to me. You need a place to stay?”

Nope. Not going there again.

Two weekends ago was the last time I plan on having sex with Ash Rider no matter how good it was or the possibility of becoming abstinent on a more permanent basis because of it.

I don’t want to lead him on, don’t want him to think I changed my mind, and I really don’t want to jeopardize my employment. Especially when I really need to work as much as possible in order to pay for my own place.

I shake my head. “I’ve got it figured out.”

“Sleeping in your car in the parking lot out back is not figured out .” Ash sighs. “And it’s dangerous.”

No shit.

I know that better than most, but again, it’s probably my only option because I’m too prideful—or stupid—to ask anyone for help. I’m not going to be that girl, the one who calls in a favor to her super successful brothers or best friend just because they could buy me a house and make my problems disappear without putting a dent in their bank accounts.

I snort.

Sometimes I wonder how the hell I even fit into that equation.

My oldest brother, Knox TKO Riley, is a now retired three-time CFA heavyweight champ planning to open a gym and rehab center with his super cool doctor wife, Hazel, and they are definitely going to be very comfortable for the rest of their life thanks to his background in finance. Knox is the one who bought me my current ride, a now seven-year-old Jeep Grand Cherokee, with a fight of the night bonus just because he wanted to. If I called him and told him I needed help with a new place, Knox would be in Louisiana in the blink of an eye, cash in hand, ready to get me settled.

My other big brother? He’d do the same.

Blake Riley, aka Blake Morgan, and his awesome wife, Sid, are both bestselling romance authors with all the letters in front of their names. Even with four kids, those two are rolling in the dough thanks to their incredible talent, and if I called Blake, I guarantee he’d be shopping online for a house just as fast as Knox would. Hell, they’d probably work together and buy a place behind my back, most likely in Georgia since that seems to be the way my family is headed, then put that shit in my name so I had no choice but to move.

But I won’t ask either of them for any kind of help. I’ll just keep lying through my teeth when we FaceTime and make them think living in New Orleans is perfect and great, everything I wanted and more, so they don’t worry and go into protective mode.

As for my best friend?

Fuck, that’s another story entirely.

Noah has been trying for years to get me to let him do something like that for me. My mega rockstar bestie has more money than he knows what to do with, but I’m not looking for handouts. No matter how good the intentions behind them may be.

Not to mention those three are exactly why I don’t bother trying to find my Prince Charming .

I’ve had too many guys try to date me once they find out who I’m connected to, try to get close so they can meet the badass MMA fighter or guitar god. Surprisingly, there are a lot of dudes who know who Blake is too, but a romance author ranks a smidge lower than a heavyweight and rockstar. Not by much, but still.

And that’s not even getting into all the ways those three cock-block me on the regular just by caring about me at all. Being the baby sister of two big ass, tough as nails dudes as well as the best friend of what is essentially a modern-day Viking, means any guy I even consider looking at is immediately under investigation. Totally doesn’t help that Noah is as tight with my family as I am, and he doesn’t ever hesitate to team up with Knox and Blake when it comes to my dating life.

Or lack thereof.

Sometimes I really wonder how the hell I came to be.

Knox and Blake got the incredible and very useful talent to do what they do, and the intelligence to be super smart with their success. They even got cool names.

I’m just Agatha Faye Riley, an incredibly talented but not at all sought after tattoo artist who is in debt up to her eyeballs because she can’t seem to make one good decision to save her life. And now she’s about to be homeless.

“Jeez.” Ash sighs. “Must be bad if you’re getting lost in your head like that.”

I blink, then turn my stool to face him. “It’s not. I’m fine, Ash. Don’t worry.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

I give him a smile, wishing for a split second I could view him as more than a great boss, solid friend, and decently above average-sized dick. Then at least I’d have one good thing going for me. Ash is a good boyfriend and if I was smart, I’d make him mine. Too bad my heart belongs to someone else, someone I won’t ever be with for about a million good reasons.

“Thanks.”

He nods, smiles his very nice smile, then heads down the hall to the office to most likely go over the books.

We open in about twenty minutes and Ash always goes over the books before we do because he’s anal and a smart businessman.

Plus, he has to balance out his counterpart, his very flighty, irresponsible and kind of bitchy twin sister, Halee, who co-owns the shop with him. She’s the piercer at Inked in Sin and she’s always late, if she shows up at all, acts like an entitled little jerk because she’s pretty and an owner, and honestly, she walks all over Ash. Halee just expects him to pick up her slack while she uses the shop as her own personal man meat buffet.

We are not friends.

I’m actually pretty sure she hates me, especially after she found me bent over Ash’s desk while he nailed me from behind about a year ago. Halee thinks I’m using him, just like she thinks I’m using Noah and my brothers, and she views me as her biggest competition when it comes to picking up guys at the shop. Something that only got worse when Ash trained me on piercing because it’s always a crap shoot if Halee even shows up for work.

Apparently, she thinks I’m trying to push her out and take advantage of everyone I’ve ever met in order to buy her half of the shop.

I’m not though, and I don’t do things like that no matter what she thinks.

Ash is the only one affiliated with Inked in Sin that I’ve ever slept with, clients or otherwise, and it has nothing to do with anything outside of scratching an itch with a good guy from time to time. Now that it’s stopped, I’d like to think her shitty attitude toward me will improve. Highly unlikely, but I can hope.

“Okay, buddy.” I sigh, reach down and scratch Tank’s ear. “Time for Mommy to work. You know… “

His tail starts thumping against the floor really hard and his ears perk up all of a sudden. Tank gets to his feet and starts pacing in front of the door, whining a little as his tongue flops out of his mouth.

My pooch is suddenly very excited, which can only mean one thing.

“My Gigi!” Clover screeches as she comes tearing down the hall, her melodic voice alerting us of her arrival moments before she darts into my room in a blur of glitter and sparkle.

“Hey punk!” I grin as she slams into me and sends my stool rolling backward until I bump into my desk. “What an awesome surprise!” One I definitely needed.

She hugs my neck, clinging to me like a koala in a tree and when she finally looks me in the eye, her smile is blinding. “It was tops secret.”

I laugh and hug her harder. “I guess so.” She sits back in my lap and immediately starts twirling my dreads in her tiny fingers. “How was school?”

“Okay.” Clover shrugs. “Miss Leslie made me class helper so I gets to make sure all the kids are doing what they’re upposed to at the ends of the day.”

“ Oh , big responsibility.” I grin and push her tiara back up into her white-blonde mane. “Get to be a big boss now, huh?”

“Yeah.” Another shrug, then a smirk that looks exactly like her father’s. “I told Bobby to stop picking his nose and gets his backpack on like Miss Leslie said.”

“That’s good.”

“Boys are gross.”

I giggle as I kiss her forehead. “You are not wrong, punky.”

“I am deeply offended by that remark.”

My eyes flick to the doorway as that gravelly voice meets my ears.

Noah is leaning against the frame looking like sex incarnate, his super light strawberry blond waves thrown up into his trademark man bun, all sloppy and careless and hot. His pale blue eyes dance under barely-there brows, his full pink lips pulled into a grin and surrounded by just a hint of scruff under his impeccable cheekbones and sharp jaw. Tank has his front paws on Noah’s wide shoulders, my big ass dog barely hiding the heavily tattooed and very muscled six-foot-five, two-hundred-and-ninety-pound body that makes my pussy clench every damn time I see it.

Noah is hot as fuck, the perfect male specimen, the epitome of a rock god, and in another life, he could have been mine.

He’s not though, he’s just my best friend who’s been there for me since we were six years old and David Williams pulled my hair, knocked my glasses on the ground and stomped on them because I played like a little boy.

Once upon a time I thought Noah was my Prince Charming, thought he was going to be my happily ever after, but he unknowingly broke my heart over and over again, and we’ve remained nothing more than best friends ever since.

He’s exactly why I’m emotionally unavailable and never will be.

“She’s not wrong.” I smile at him as Clover hugs me again, rests her head on my shoulder, and starts tracing the small tattoo of an arrow behind my ear. “Boys are pretty gross.”

Noah smirks and keeps giving Tank all the love. “Except me. I am perfect in every way.”

At this, Clover giggles so hard she snorts. “Daddy, you’re the grossest.”

“Well, I never!” He gasps and clutches his imaginary pearls as usual. “Give me one good example of how I’m the grossest and maybe I’ll reconsider your incredibly false statement.”

She kisses my cheek, hops off my lap and is immediately attacked with pitweiler kisses. “You farts all the time.”

“I do not.” Noah feigns offense. “I never fart.”

“Don’t lies, Daddy. You farts all the time and they’re super loud and smelly.”

Oh my god, I love this kid so much.

“Clover Creek, how dare you say such things.”

“And you picks your nose sometimes.” She giggles as Tank drops to the floor and rolls on his back so she can scratch his belly. “I seen it.”

“Obviously someone doesn’t want to get ice cream on the way home.” Noah arches a brow as he looks at me, my laughter barely contained. “Are you going to let her talk about me like this?”

I nod and bite my lip. “Oh yeah. You totally stink, Thor. Your farts are worse than Tanks.”

He staggers back and drives an invisible knife through his heart. “You’ve cut me deep, kitten. Wounded me in a way I won’t ever recover from.”

I roll my eyes and watch the little girl I love like my own play with my pooch, a little stab of pain in my own heart.

She could have been mine, too.

Hell, she practically is. Just because I didn’t carry her for nine months doesn’t mean I don’t love Clover more than anything in the world. I’ve been there for her since she was born, even got to hold her right after Noah did, and while I will always be there for her no matter what, one day things will change, and she won’t need me anymore.

One day Clover will have someone else to lean on, to need, to love, and learn all about life from in addition to her amazing dad, and I’ll just be a fond memory in a world I won’t ever truly be a part of.

Fuck, I’m really spiraling here.

I need to get out of my head or else I’m going to ruin the two appointments I have this afternoon.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of a surprise ambush?” I blink away the blur in my eyes and look over my planner so neither of them sees what a disaster I am right now. “Assuming this was exactly that.”

“Why don’t you take Tank outside with Uncle Vin and Uncle Jax, peanut?” Noah asks as they appear behind him. “I want to talk to your Gigi for a few minutes, then we’ll go get ice cream.”

“Okay.” Clover gets to her feet and pats her thigh for my dog to follow, which he always does because he loves her as much as I do. “Come on, Tanky. Let’s go potty.”

Noah watches her leave with a beautiful smile, my heart pinching once again, but I can’t keep going there. It’s going to ruin me if I do.

“What’s up?” I fold my arms defensively against my chest and brace myself for whatever he’s about to ask because I know him too well to think otherwise.

“Kitten.” Noah sighs dramatically as he flops onto my tattoo chair, pulls the lever so it’s reclined all the way, then throws his arm over his eyes. Such a drama queen . “I need to call in a favor.”

Another eye roll. “I don’t owe you shit.”

He chuckles, then peeks at me from behind his chorded forearm. “Then I need to ask you for help.”

I frown, “Why? What’s going on?”

Noah drops his arms and lets them dangle over the edges of the table. “I’m in a jam, kitten. A real clusterfuck.”

“Okay...” This is not going to be good. I can feel it.

“I fired another nanny.”

“Jesus, Noah. What is that, like five in the last two months?”

He nods and pins me with those washed-out cornflower blues. “She was naked in my bed, Aggs. Put Clover to bed, stripped, then waited for me to come home from the studio.”

“Fucking hell.” Not again. I’m so sick of this shit happening to them. “You pressing charges this time?”

“No.” He sighs. “I threatened to, reminded her of the NDA and her contract. It scared her enough to scram but now I’m out another nanny, and I don’t have enough time to find a new one.”

“Before what?”

“Before all the promo shit for the new album.”

Shit . “Which starts when?”

“This weekend.” Noah’s left eye twitches, a sure sign he’s nervous, and that means he’s about to ask me something big. “Two big things, actually.”

Damn him for reading my mind.

Not really, but we know each other inside and out and while I know he’s about to drop bombs on me, Noah knows I know he’s going to.

I sigh and lean back onto my desk. “Get it over with, Thor. I have an appointment at two.”

He sits up and grips the table on either side of his thighs so hard his knuckles turn white. “There’s a party Friday. The label is throwing it, making a big deal over this album because it’s our first one in almost five years.”

“So, what, you want me to babysit?” Cause I would. I always jump at the chance to hang out with Clover, especially at Noah’s pimped out plantation mansion when I’m down a place to live.

But he shakes his head. “Jax and Vin are gonna take her overnight. The label is providing security, so I’m giving them a night away from my dumbass.”

“Thoughtful,” I say with a smirk. “So, what do you want from me?”

His eye twitches again. “I want you to go with me.”

“No.” Not fucking happening. Something Noah is well aware of. There are a few very serious reasons I don’t dabble in that part of his life anymore and he fucking knows them all.

“Just hear me out.” Noah squeezes the edge of the table harder. “I know you hate that shit, but I need you there with me, Aggs. I haven’t done anything like that since... well, you know, and I don’t feel comfortable being at that party with nothing but other musicians and groupies who don’t give a damn about my history and current lifestyle.”

“Noah, I understand where you’re coming from but?—”

“Aggie, please? I swear to God I will keep Grady away from you. He’s riding a thin line with me as it is, and he won’t argue if I tell him to back the fuck off. I’ve got three and a half years completely sober, so I’m not going to be doing any of the shit I used to, none of the shit we used to fight about. As for the rest, well, I have zero desire to fuck around with the groupies. You know that, know how much I’ve changed. I can’t risk it even if I wanted to and I don’t.” His eyes plead with mine, practically beg and goddamnit, I’m gonna cave. “I need you, Aggie. Please. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this on my own.”

Yep, totally caving.

“I’ll talk to Ash and see if I can cut out early Friday. What time do you need me to be ready?”

Noah sighs as he smiles. “Eight. Party starts at nine. I’ll pick you up from your place.”

Double shit . “About that...” I swallow hard and avoid looking right at him. “Why don’t you just pick me up from here? I can get ready in the back. It’ll be easier since I have an appointment at five.”

“What happened?”

Goddamn best friend intuition.

“Nothing, it’s just easier. Last appointment is at five, I’m on walk-ins after that so it shouldn’t be a problem?—”

“What’s that?” Noah points to my frilly eviction notice that I didn’t have time to hide.

“It’s nothing.” I turn to my desk and try to destroy the evidence, but he’s too quick. Noah is off my table and has the notice in his hand before I can even try to grab it.

“They’re kicking you out?”

I sigh, totally defeated. “It’s pretty though, right? MC has a real gift for artfully booting someone out of her house.”

“You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

I just shrug. He knows the answer to that.

Noah sighs, drops the letter on my desk, then leans into it. “This is perfect then.”

I frown and drag my gaze away from his huge thighs and firm bubble butt. “What now?”

He chuckles and shakes his head because he knows I was drooling over him. “It’s perfect because the other thing I was going to ask you was if you’d be interested in temporarily filling my live-in nanny needs.”

“You’re kidding?” Because that is a huge slap in the face. Noah knows he doesn’t have to pay me to take care of Clover, I love her too much and would never ever take a dime from him. We’ve been down this road before.

I moved in with him when Clover was a baby right after all that shit went down with her biological mom so I could help him navigate being a dad. It was never going to be permanent and he sure as fuck didn’t pay me because I’d do anything for either one of them. Suggesting I be his nanny is pretty fucking shitty, since he knows all of that. “Fuck off, Noah.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean it like that, kitten. Fuck, why can’t I ever seem to word things right around you?”

“Because you’re a cocky rockstar who thinks everyone comes with a price.” I stand and grab the stencil I finally finished for my first client of the day. “I’m not going to be Clover’s fucking nanny, okay? I can’t?—”

Noah turns me around to face him, his hands warm and grounding on my shoulders. “I don’t want you to be her nanny, or my employee.” He starts sliding his big palms along my biceps and pins me with a stare I could get lost in. “I want you to be her Gigi, be my best friend and move in with us for a little while because I’m an asshat who needs help. I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you, and I need to know my little girl is in good hands, is with someone who loves her as much as I do while I’m dealing with all this promo shit. Just move in with us until you manage to save enough to get your own place, keep being Clover’s favorite person on the planet, and when the album drops, you can decide what you want to do next. If you’re okay with the way things have been going, we’ll keep doing it, if not…” He shrugs. “We’ll figure it out from there.”

Fuck me, man.

“Fine.” I blow out a breath. “But the minute your entitled ass starts ordering me around like I’m on the payroll, I’m out.”

Noah smiles, the blinding one that makes his eyes sparkle and his dimples pop. “You can even punch me right in the nuts if I do.”

“Already planned on it.”

“I have no doubt.”

“She’s going to have to come to work with me sometimes.”

He nods. “I know, and it’s fine. She’s here all the time anyway, she can hang out in her corner with Tank while you work, or in the back room if your clients have an issue with that.” Noah frowns. “Is Ashlee going to be pissed?”

I roll my eyes.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say Noah was jealous of my prior arrangement with Ash, but I do and he’s not. They just have a little bad blood because Halee is always all over him when he’s here.

“I’ll talk to him, but I doubt he’ll care. Tripp brings his kids in all the time when Nikki has to work doubles. It’s no different from that. Ash will be fine.”

Noah tries to look through the wall into Ash’s office as he grumbles, “That still going on?”

Yet another eye roll. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m no longer fucking my boss. He wanted what I won’t give to anyone.”

“Good,” he grunts under his breath. “Guy’s a douche.”

“Ash is not a douche, and you better behave yourself if you want this to work. If he has a problem with Clover coming in here with me all the time, then I can’t help you out, because being your best friend does not put food on the table. Working here does.”

“Thanks, kitten.” Noah smiles softly, reaches out and tugs one of my dreads. “I really owe you one.”

“You owe me a million, Thor.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Right. Now go get your baby girl so I can say goodbye before she drains your wallet at Everything’s Better with Sprinkles . I have work to do that will not get done with you hanging around.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Noah smirks, leans down a little and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Thank you, kitten.” His lips linger a little longer than usual and damn if my heart doesn’t melt. “I’ll text you later.”

I nod, avoid looking at him, then finally breathe when he disappears down the hall.

I really would do anything for Noah and Clover, the only problem is, I have a feeling this is going to be the last time I can honestly say that.

After his album drops in a few months, my heart that secretly belongs to both of them is going to be completely destroyed. Playing house with the boy I’ve been in love with since I was six years old is a sure-fire way to ruin me completely, and the aftermath will definitely mean I might listen to my brothers about making a drastic change; move to Georgia and start fresh close to my family.

Agreeing to do this is probably the stupidest thing I’ve done in my entire life, and I just know it’ll leave me broken and trying to pick up the pieces in the end.