Love Resolution

Some time later

“Avery, you home?” Marcus called out as soon as he stepped off the elevator into the apartment, the mouthwatering aroma of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies assailing him. Baking lessons with Ray’s mom had been going well.

“In the back,” she yelled in response.

He strode down the hall, stopping in the doorway to the master bath and stared at her.

She was bent over at the waist, wearing pajama short-shorts and a tank with no bra. Some view, he thought. Her wet auburn hair, much longer now, hung down like a crimson curtain.

His mouth went dry.

“How’d the interview go?” She flipped off the blow dryer and straightened, staring back at him with those expressive emerald eyes.

“Alright,” he replied, leaning back against the doorframe and giving her the smolder.

She gave him a skeptical look.

“It was the same sad song. They wanted to rehash old history. Asked how I can be contemplating going on a European tour with Tempest given your history with its lead guitarist.”

She frowned.

Marcus shrugged. He wasn’t at all worried this time. He and Avery were in a strong place now, and Jackson, well, he had a handful of his own issues. Served the guy right. Reaching back between his shoulder blades, he pulled off his shirt.

She was staring at him.

Hell yeah. This never got old. He dropped his shirt on the floor and waited.

She sashayed over, bent down, and picked up the shirt. “The floor is not a laundry hamper, Marcus Anthony,” she scolded, hips swaying as she stepping around him.

His arms flashed out. He grabbed her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder, taking advantage of her position to slap her playfully on the ass.

“Stop your complaining, woman.” He carried her into the bedroom and tossed her down on the bed so hard she bounced.

“They ask you anything else?” She laughed and scuttled backward, gaze fixated on his hands as he unbuttoned his jeans.

“About your solo career.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked helping him out by holding her arms up so he could yank the tank top over her head. “What’d you say to that?”

“I said what I always say…” He turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her wrist right on the spot where her mother’s name was tattooed across a scrolling musical staff. “That you can do anything you set your mind to do…you just can’t do it without me.”