Rock Chick Bonus Tracks

Track 3

Rock Chick Redemption

Her Man

* * *

Hank

* * *

Hank woke without woman or dog.

And he didn’t like it.

He opened his eyes, got up on his forearm and listened to the house.

Only then did a smile curve his lips.

They were in the kitchen.

He grabbed the covers, threw them off, snatched his pajama bottoms from the floor and headed to the bathroom. After taking care of business, wearing the bottoms, he was leaving the bathroom just as Roxie and Shamus walked into the bedroom.

She was carrying a tray he’d never seen before. It had little legs on it, and from what he could smell, on the plate on top, there was bacon.

She was also wearing a dark-gray sleep dress that hugged her curves and fell to her ankles. It had long sleeves that fit close and a notch on a collar that dipped down to expose her collarbone.

He had no idea how she managed to make a winter nightdress sexy, but one thing his woman found easy to do: make pretty much anything sexy.

Shamus danced to Hank.

Roxie glared at him. “You’re up!”

He grinned at her and pointed out the obvious. “Yeah.”

“I can’t serve you breakfast in bed when you’re not in the bed,”

she informed him.

Fighting a smile, he gave his dog’s head a rubdown before he sauntered to the bed, adjusted the pillows and then reclined, straightening his legs.

She plopped the tray over his thighs.

And yeah, there was bacon.

Also, his favorite. Roxie’s stuffed French toast, the pat of butter still melting and mixing with an overabundance of maple syrup poured over the top, just as he liked it.

She’d been with him now for a while. Through her drama, them being separated while she dealt with moving to Denver (a time he didn’t like all that much, the primary reason why he’d colluded with Tex to get her to move right in with him when she returned, an endeavor that was thankfully a success), then Roxie coming home, moving in with him and them surviving the most recent drama.

Barely.

Now, they were back to normal.

He liked Roxie beside him in his life and his bed a whole fuckuva lot. He liked walking his dog with her. He liked looking at her and listening to her. He liked going to the movies with her and going to the grocery store with her. He liked coming home to her. He liked seeing her face light up when he walked into the house and cooking dinner with her and watching TV with her and listening to her when he made her laugh. He even liked being her rock when shit went south with the Rock Chicks.

He just liked her.

But he liked their normal the best.

Like now.

She rounded the bed and hiked up the bottom of her nightdress exposing shapely legs all the way up to her thighs (again, sexy).

She climbed in opposite him, then said a gentle, “Shamus, no, not this time. Daddy’s eating,”

when their dog tried to climb in too.

Shamus whined.

“I’m sorry, baby,”

she cooed. “He’ll be done soon and then you can come up.”

Right, and he liked how much she loved his dog, and how much Shamus loved her too.

Though she was correct, he would be done with his breakfast soon (Roxie’s French toast never lasted long before he downed it), but Shamus wouldn’t be getting on the bed when he was finished.

It was Saturday. For once in the Rock Chick World, they not only had no dramas, they had no plans.

But Hank did, and they heavily involved this bed, so Shamus wasn’t invited.

“’Mornin’,”

he said softly when she finally looked to him.

Her beautiful face warmed, she leaned into him and touched his mouth with hers, pulling away, and after that sweet touch said it all, unnecessarily adding, “Good morning, Whisky.”

He gestured to the tray. “None for you?”

“We’re sharing. The toast is a double stack.”

He looked closer and saw she was right. There were also two forks.

He grabbed one and handed it to her, then went after the other.

But he started with a sip from his coffee.

She dug in. He went in after her.

After he swallowed his first bite and savored it, he turned back to his woman. “New tray?”

“Tod and Stevie and I went shopping yesterday.”

This was not a rare occurrence. His woman could shop.

However, it was in overdrive since Christmas was nearly on them.

“Did you buy two?” he asked.

She forked into the French toast then gave him her gaze before she shoved the bite into her mouth. “We only need one.”

She was right about that.

It was then Hank leaned in and kissed her. It was closed-mouthed, but she still tasted of Roxie and syrup. The first part did it for him. All he needed. So the combination packed a phenomenal punch.

He put down his fork and picked up a rasher of bacon, saying, “I could get used to this,”

before he munched.

That was no lie, and he wasn’t just talking about sharing breakfast in bed.

He was feeling great. He had his woman at his side, eating a fantastic breakfast, the entire day off, no plans, the house was decorated for Christmas, he was in the spirit, Roxie was in the spirit, Shamus was in the spirit, and no one had been kidnapped or shot for weeks.

So he wasn’t feeling great about how Roxie suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Sunshine?”

he called.

She looked right at him and said fast, “I tried, but I couldn’t stop it.”

Oh fuck.

His entire frame tensed.

“What?”

he growled.

“It was already done by the time they called. Apparently, they’ve been planning this for weeks.”

“What, Roxanne?”

he pressed, his voice still low.

Her eyes got big before she announced, “Mom and Dad are coming for Christmas.”

He did a slow blink.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Okay, Hank,”

she began, scooching closer to him like she had to be near to support him through a trauma. “You had a small taste of them when they were here.”

“Sweetheart—”

“And it was Halloween, which is a holiday, I’ll admit. So Mom was acting in true form when she Mom Bombed your house in all things Halloween. But you must remember, that isn’t the holiday. Christmas is.”

“Roxie—”

“So, you experienced Mom Overload when she was here around Halloween. And I know I warned you, but I don’t think you appreciate just how much Christmas is crazy town for my mom.”

Trish Logan, down to the bone, was “crazy town.”

But she was also hilarious, loved her daughter, loved Hank with her daughter, and family was family, and it didn’t need to be said, Christmas was family time.

“I did promise her Christmases,”

he reminded her.

“I know, but this year, with things…”

she trailed off.

It was hard for her to talk about it.

It was hard for any of them to talk about it.

So he didn’t make her talk about it.

“I know,”

he murmured.

“We had to stay in Denver. For Vance.”

Everything was fine now. It was a miracle, but it was.

But she was right. They had to stay in Denver, especially Roxie.

For Vance.

“This is about Tex too, I assume,”

Hank noted.

She nodded. “Mom has him back, and as usual with Mom, she’s going for the gusto.”

“It’s gonna be okay,”

he assured her.

“It’s not going to be okay,”

she returned.

“Sunshine,”

he wrapped his hand around her neck, “it’s going to be okay.”

She searched his eyes. After a few beats, hers settled.

Because that was what he was for her.

Her rock.

She was his everything, and that was what he was for her.

So, yeah.

It was going to be okay.

Because even if it wasn’t, he’d make it that way.

“Oh my God!”

Roxie yelled from the kitchen.

Luke and Hank, both in the back room watching a football game, looked at each other.

And they both grinned.

Roxie showed in the room and shouted, “I just knew I shouldn’t let Tex pick them up from the airport!”

After delivering that, she flounced out.

Luke and Hank were buds, but they didn’t hang often. Luke was there to be witness to what happened next.

Hank didn’t blame him, and he was surprised he didn’t have a house full of Rock Chicks and Hank’s friends. Trish and Herb’s entertainment value was second to none, and it was far better to watch it unfold than to listen to what went down after the fact. (Though, that was good too.)

Both men stood and strolled from the back room into the kitchen where they saw Roxie standing in the open front door, shouting out of it.

“Mom! It’s December twenty-third! We already have a tree!”

Hank instantly looked over the kitchen sink out the window.

And sure enough, outside in the freshly fallen snow, Shamus was dancing around Herb and Tex, who were carting in a massive fir tree.

Explaining how that could happen, Tex’s El Camino wasn’t at the curb. He’d borrowed one of Lee’s company Explorers. And it looked piled high in the back with wrapped Christmas presents.

Hank bit back a bark of laughter.

“You can’t have too many Christmas trees, Roxanne Giselle,”

Trish announced reproachfully, right before she pulled her daughter forcefully into her arms and hugged her so tight, you could see how tight it was, doing this while swinging her back and forth.

She then caught sight of Hank, let Roxie go and shoved her aside with such force, Roxie’s hair swayed.

She called, “Sweet Jesus! Praise the Lord!”

while coming his way.

“Hey there, Trish,”

he greeted, moving toward her and still holding back laughter.

“Sweet Jesus!”

she shouted.

“Not in the house two seconds, and she’s covering it in Sweet Jesus,”

Herb grumbled from the direction of the door as Trish hugged him tight.

“It is Christmas, Sweet Jesus seems the way to go,”

he heard Luke say under his breath.

Hank put a stop to the swaying by standing firm, but he hugged Trish back, and he did it still holding back laughter.

She let him go and turned to Luke.

Hank watched with interest to see what happened next. Not many people hugged Luke Stark.

Trish Logan was not many people.

Although Luke didn’t reciprocate, Trish wasn’t deterred, and even when it was over, she reached up to pat his cheek and mumbled, “You’re a good boy.”

Luke Stark.

A good boy.

That was too much. Hank was almost certain he sprained something trying not to bust out laughing, but Luke’s only response was his lips forming a smirk.

“Trish Logan, I told you, this huge-ass tree ain’t gonna fit in this room,”

Herb announced, standing with Tex in Hank’s living room with the tree up and unfurled. He then looked to Hank. “Son,”

he greeted, his eyes going to Luke. “Luke.”

They both said the same thing in reply.

“Herb.”

And Herb told no lies. The tree was massive and taking up all the available space. So much, both Tex and Herb were partially obscured by the branches.

Trish was taking off her coat with no apparent concern that there was a probably very expensive tree that could not remain in that house (it also probably couldn’t be returned) taking up the living room.

“It’s not meant for in here. It’s meant for the family room,”

she declared.

Oh shit.

Hank and Roxie’s tree was already set up in the family room. It had been since the weekend after Thanksgiving. It was a beautiful live tree, with all new ornaments, and even if Hank wasn’t much of a shopper, he’d enjoyed traipsing from store to store all over Denver with Roxie to find exactly what they wanted.

Roxie, being expert in all the varied retail experiences, took him on this quest weeks before Thanksgiving, because, she shared, she went nowhere near any store on the weekend after Thanksgiving.

“Black Friday and the ensuing weekend are my version of the seventh circle of hell,”

she’d proclaimed, something Hank thought was damned good to know.

It was a great memory. Drinking hot cocoa and listening to Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, and the Carpenters’ Christmas albums, and setting up the house with his woman had been something he’d never forget. Making love to her under the tree with the smell of pine in his nose and the crooning of Cole in his ears, and Roxie filling all the rest of his senses when they got it all done being the best part.

She hadn’t hidden she enjoyed all of that too. There could be no mistake, Trish had handed down her holiday joy to her daughter.

Therefore, as he suspected, and he didn’t even need her to shoot the aggravated look she shot to him to suspect it, Roxie waded in at this point. “As I said when you arrived, Mom, we already have our tree. And it’s in the family room.”

“We’ll move that one into the living room,”

Trish returned.

Oh shit…again.

Roxie shot Hank another aggravated look, but the level of aggravation in this one was reaching the red zone.

He tried to be supportive in the one he returned, but he worried he failed, mostly because he thought this was all funny as fuck, including the fact she didn’t.

The Roxie and Trish show was almost as good as the Trish and Herb show.

She turned back to her mother. “No, we won’t, Mom. Hank and I bought our tree together. We went out and got our decorations together. We also decorated it together. It’s our first Christmas together and that tree is not moving. We’re having Christmas around that…exact…tree. No discussion.”

The Logan women squared off.

Regrettably, or fortunately, depending on who you were in the scenario, Herb decided to chime in. “No problem, even though this tree cost me more than I’d accept for payment for a donated gonad, I’ll take it out back and chop it up. Hank can use it as firewood.”

Trish whirled on Herb, horrorstruck. “First, Herbert Logan, do not talk about your gonads in mixed company! Or, say, at all. Does your daughter need to hear about your gonads?”

Her hand shot up when Herb’s mouth opened. “I’ll answer that. No! She doesn’t. And second, you are not chopping up that tree! We’ll set it up outside in the front. Put lights on it. It’ll be perfect. It’ll be the talk of the neighborhood.”

“I just hauled it in, now you want me to haul it out?”

Herb asked incredulously.

“You were gonna haul it out back to chop it up,”

Trish pointed out.

“Yeah, but I do that, I get to use an axe. I take it out front, I gotta deal with lights. I already dealt with my quota of Christmas lights this season, woman,”

Herb warned. Then he continued, doing it quickly so Trish couldn’t get a word in, “And you know that since I told you five damn-gummed times after you kept wanting me to staple lights on shit.”

Herb looked to Hank and carried on ranting.

“We got lights on the house. The detached garage. The garden shed. The fence around the property. In all the trees. Around the banister out front and the one on the stairs in the goldarned house. And I know I’m forgettin’ some, mostly because, eventually I had to block it out so I wouldn’t commit a felonious act, seein’ as we got a cop in the family now, and you don’t need your girl’s father facin’ twenty to life for wife-icide.”

Definitely sprained something trying not to laugh.

Herb concluded, “And she made me do all this knowin’ the whole time we weren’t even gonna be there for Christmas.”

Hank moved into the fray, setting off toward the tree. “I’ll set it up. Head to Lowe’s, get some more lights. It won’t be a problem.”

“The Lord sure heard my prayers, giving my daughter a good and decent man who doesn’t bellyache at Christmas,”

Trish decreed. This statement was part snotty, that part directed at Herb, and part heartfelt, that part directed at Hank. She then said while opening the refrigerator, “Don’t go to Lowe’s just yet, Hank. I might have a grocery list for you.”

“Mom,”

Roxie cut in. “This house is groaning with food. You sprung it on us, but we did have some notice you were coming.”

The stress on the word “some,”

Hank didn’t miss, was pretty heavy. “I got everything we could possibly need yesterday.”

“Nothing wrong with me checking,”

Trish retorted.

Roxie let out a loud sigh.

“Nip this shit in the bud, son,”

Herb advised as Hank took control of the tree. “She’ll have you runnin’ all over hell’s half acre for her if you don’t.”

“It’s fine,”

Hank assured and started out the door, catching Tex grinning like a maniac.

Right.

Even if it wasn’t already, that made it worth it right there.

Tex was happy his family was in town for the holiday.

Yep.

Totally worth it.

“Oh, and while you’re out there…”

Trish called, head now in the fridge as Hank was halfway out the door with the tree, “…can you help Herb and Tex with our bags and the packages? We mailed them early to Tex. They’re wrapped and everything, so we’re all set to start Christmas without delay!”

She peered around the fridge door to Luke, “You go too, Lucas. We’ve got a lot to bring in.”

Luke touched his finger to his forehead and flicked it out in a salute before heading toward the front door.

He was still smirking.

“Hell’s half acre,”

Herb grumbled, following Hank out the door. “That’s where I live. That’s my life.”

Hank mentally called bullshit.

Herb doted on his wife.

He bitched a lot, but it hadn’t escaped Hank, he gave in.

Every time.

Hank woke without woman or dog.

It was the dead of night.

Christmas was over.

And Roxie wasn’t with him.

He threw the covers back, hauled his ass out of bed, and with a glance through the shadows at the bathroom, the door of which was open, he prowled out of the room.

He stopped dead one step in the kitchen when he saw her.

She was sitting on the counter, curled into herself, arms wrapped around her calves, staring out the window.

Shamus was lying on the tile of the kitchen floor right under her.

Shamus’s head came up when Hank arrived, and he gave a soft woof.

That was when Roxie’s head came around.

His dog’s tags jingled as he loped to Hank, but Hank only gave him a distracted scratch while on the move to his woman.

He slid a hand along her waist to curl his fingers in on the other side, wrapped his other hand around her ankle, and tried real hard to get his heart from jackhammering out of his chest.

Because this was strange.

Roxie was a MacMillan. She was a Logan. Crazy came with the package.

But this was different.

“You okay?”

he whispered.

“You know what’s the worst?”

she whispered back.

He braced.

He was a cop. He knew a lot of worsts.

What happened recently to a member of their crew was some of the worst that worst could get.

What happened to Roxie was too.

She didn’t seem to have to process what Billy Flynn did to her too much. She’d had her rough patch when Vance brought her home. They’d worked through how she felt it sullied her so she wasn’t good enough for him, and they fought their way to their normal.

But he’d been around shit like this his entire career. He’d heard his dad telling his mom about it while he was growing up.

He knew it could come back to bite you.

“No, sweetheart, what’s the worst?”

She tipped her head to the window.

“That tree looks amazing.”

He looked out the window, tightening his hold on her ankle, because it did.

Before Roxie, Hank had zero Christmas decorations. He was a single guy who spent the last thirty-five years at his parents’ place for Christmas. He didn’t feel the need to buy them, mostly because he knew, when he found his woman, they’d do it up like he and Roxanne did it.

Together.

They decided to go for what they needed, tree and some things around the house, and add on as the years went by. So they bought a lit wreath for the door, Hank hung it and set the timer to light it, and for this year, that was all they did outside.

That meant the huge tree in his front yard gleaming with an abundance of bright white lights in the dark against the snow shone like a cheerful Christmas beacon.

Sometimes, less was more.

“Mom was right,”

Roxie went on.

He wanted to smile.

He didn’t smile.

He focused on her profile.

“Why are you sittin’ on the countertop in the dark, Sunshine?”

he prodded.

Her answer made Hank go completely still.

“Because today was the best day ever, in my whole life, and I don’t want it to end.”

It was Christmas night, actually probably the day after, considering what he suspected was the time.

And she was right.

It had been a great fucking day.

She turned from staring at the tree to look into his eyes.

“I love how much Mom loves holidays,”

she admitted. “I love her cheesy hash browns and egg casserole. I love how crazy it is with paper and ribbon and Christmas music playing. I loved how Shamus was in seventh heaven with all the mess and people. I loved watching Tex watch Mom and how happy he looked. How he looked like he’d finally come home, even though he was nowhere near Indiana, just being around Mom being Mom was home to him.”

He saw the tears shimmering in her eyes, knowing what she said about Tex was as big as it could get, and having felt that same feeling watching Tex settle back into the family who’d missed him for far too long, and now had him back.

Hank used his hand around her waist to pull her into his chest.

Roxie kept talking.

“I love that Nancy and Lottie came over. I love that Tex had somewhere else to go because he’s part of a huge, wide family, and went with them to Blanca’s for dinner. I love that for our dinner, we sat around a big, loud, happy table at your folks’ house. I love how Mom gets along so great with your mom. And Dad gets on so great with your dad. And how Ally eggs mom on. And how Indy and Lee are so much in love, and the way they show it.”

“Yeah,”

he agreed when she paused.

“I loved that Vance sounded good when we called him. And I love the present you got me, Whisky.”

Her hand drifted to her neck, and she toyed with what dangled there. “This necklace is beautiful.”

He didn’t make a mint. So he had no choice but to get her some little things for her stocking, because the big thing was a diamond pendant.

It wasn’t much, three quarters of a carat. But it hung on a platinum chain and was embedded in the bottom of a short, delicate platinum wand.

She’d lit up when she saw it, and then burst out crying, both before she threw herself in his arms and carried on about how it was too much, but how much she loved it, and it was perfect for her, so it was worth every penny of the money he’d gone over budget to spend on it.

She’d put it on immediately (after crying, hugging, carrying on then kissing him).

She still had it on.

“And I love that I never have to buy clothes again,”

he gently teased, though he didn’t lie.

He had new jeans, trousers, sweaters, shirts, thermals, Henleys, not to mention underwear, socks and pajama bottoms. He was the last one opening presents, and Trish was nearly as generous as her daughter, so that was saying something.

Roxie leaned her shoulder into him. “And I loved sharing all of that with you.”

At that, he drifted a hand up her spine to her neck and into her hair before he bent his head and kissed her, deep.

When he was done, she rested her head on his shoulder, and they both looked out the window.

“You like them, don’t you?”

she asked the window.

“Herb and Trish?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re impossible not to like.”

She relaxed deeper into him and agreed, “Yeah.”

“So you’re out here, sittin’ on the counter, starin’ outside, because you don’t want this day to end?”

She took her head from his shoulder and tipped it back to look at him. “This is a day I never want to erase.”

He smiled gently at her, got close and shared, “It doesn’t have to be over yet.”

Her gaze heated.

Oh yeah.

He could drown in the deep blue of her eyes. He knew that the second he laid eyes on them.

Since then, he’d been sucked under, countless times. He didn’t mind. It was warm in there. And the sun was always shimmering on the surface. A never-ending promise.

Perfect.

“Do I have to ask what you have in mind?”

she inquired.

No. She didn’t.

He moved his hand at her ankle to hook her behind her knees and lifted her off the counter.

Holding her against his chest, Roxie slid her arms around his shoulders, and Hank carried her to their bed.

Shamus followed, and Hank waited until the dog made it into the room before he kicked the door shut behind him.

But Shamus knew this drill very well, so he didn’t even try to hit the bed.

He collapsed with a doggie groan on Hank’s side.

Hank put his woman on the bed and then covered her with his body.

This was an occasion. One of many. Their first Christmas together.

And their first Christmas night together.

So he was going to make it memorable.

And if Roxie didn’t want the day to end (even if it already had), he’d give her that too.

Therefore, he took his time. He let her take hers. It was touch and taste and sighs and moans and scratches and tickles and whispered words and soft laughter and sucking and biting and finally, grasping and panting and urgency.

And a whole fuckuva a lot of love.

After, curled close into Roxie’s right side, with Shamus sprawled on her left, Hank splayed his hand on her belly and thought of what it’d look like after he planted babies there.

“I hope your worst is always having to admit your mom is right about something,”

he murmured in her ear.

She covered his hand on her belly. “We still have Luke, Ally, Mace and Hector to get through. Maybe Darius. I’m thinking that time won’t be for a while.”

It sucked, but he knew she was thinking right.

“We’ll make it through,”

he promised.

The second these words came out of his mouth, her fingers curved tight around his, almost like a reflex.

He knew what that meant. She didn’t need to say it.

He knew it. He felt it in his gut, his bones, his heart.

That was who he was. It was what he was always meant to be.

What he didn’t know, until he laid eyes on Roxanne at Fortnum’s the first time she walked in, was that all of it was in preparation, waiting for her.

To be her shoulder.

Her rock.

Her sounding board.

Her protector.

Her man.

It was just good to know she knew it too.

“Go to sleep, Sunshine,” he urged.

“Okay, Whisky,”

she whispered but didn’t let go of his hand.

She held it there, all night.

And their first Christmas a memory neither of them would forget, Hank woke up with her hand right there, curled around his, the next morning.