Page 111 of Cherry Beats

“Yeah.” He smiled. “And depending on what day you asked him, Jimmy would tell you he was named after Jim Morrison, Jimmy Page, or Jimi Hendrix.” Dex laughed.

“Another music lover?”

“Every child’s passion usually has something to do with their parents, whether they want to admit it or not.” He nodded at the stage where Presley was gesticulating something to the rest of the band, his arms pointing in this direction and that like he was in charge, for once. “Presley is all Jimmy. In mind, heart, soul… on the stage.”

“Jimmy played in a band?”

Dex pushed his lips out and nodded, his smile fading as memories made his eyes glaze over. “There wasn’t anything Jimmy couldn’t play. Drums were his first love, but give him a guitar, a keyboard, a damn trumpet, and the guy could get it to make whatever music he wanted it to make.”

“What happened?” I dared myself to ask, imagining a young Presley looking up at his father with admiration and respect.

“Not my story to tell, Tess.”

“Sorry,” I muttered with embarrassment.

“No need. You care for my nephew. It’s natural you want to know about his life, but that’s his story to share.”

I turned back to Dex. “Do you think he will? Share it with me, I mean…”

“I’m surprised he already hasn’t. It’s obvious what you mean to him.”

“It is?”

Dex rolled his eyes. “Little bit.”

“Look who made it!” Presley cried, his face alight with happiness as he jogged forward, a sweaty mess, and for once, not wearing his leather jacket which was draped over the stool behind his drum kit. The sight of his muscly bare arms made me want to shiver with excitement, every prominent vein in his forearms my personal addiction. My weakness. My porn.

The men embraced hard, a few slaps on the back followed by mutters of insults that only told me how much they loved each other.

“You knew he was coming?” I interrupted, giving Presley a look that clearly saidThanks for the head’s up, arsehole.

Presley responded with a smile before he leaned over and sank his teeth into my bare shoulder, growling hungrily as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.

“I can’t concentrate. What is it about this little bit of skin that gets me so hyped up? Fuck, you smell good, too.”

“Presley!” I gasped, looking back at Dex apologetically and pushing on Presley’s chest. Dex and Presley laughed, and Presley eventually backed off, running a hand through his hair and holding it in place at the back of his neck.

“I flew Uncle Dex over,” he told me, shrugging a shoulder. “Missed the fucker.”

“Ah, my sweet nephew and his poetic words.” Dex tilted his head to one side and smiled proudly.

“Plus, I thought shit was about to get hectic around here. Julia and the crew will be busy tonight. I didn’t want you standing around alone, not knowing everyone,” Presley told me.

It was my turn to roll my eyes and fold my arms over my chest as I tried to control the weight of my smile.

“So, I’m here to babysit?” Dex asked in mock horror.

I nudged his shoulder with mine, winking his way. “Don’t worry, Dex. I’m sure we can find some trouble to make and fun to have along the way.”

“My kinda girl.” He grinned.

“You know she’s taken, right?” Presley glared at Dex.

“I don’t see a ring on her finger, son.”

When Presley turned to look at me, his smile grew, and his eyes narrowed.

The feeling that one look left me with was breathtaking.

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