Текст книги "Out Of The Blue"

Автор книги: Carina Adams

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

“Ex-wife,” I clarified. “And how in the fuck did you know about our plans for Cali?”

“It’s a small bus, Mike. I hear shit that I don’t want to all the time.”

Made sense. I sighed. “So, it was just a fucking camera?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but the douche had psycho written all over him. And a love letter to our girl, using letters cut out from a magazine. Creepy Lover Boy was kicking it old school—loser stalker style.”

A smile threatened to break free. “I freaked.”

“Hey”—he shrugged, smacking me on the back as he walked by—“you didn’t shoot him. And now he’s been added to the no admittance list. Today was a win, Mike. Molly will calm down, give her time. I’m off—the fans have waited long enough.”

After he had left, I collapsed onto the couch and listened to Molly move around in the bathroom. Nothing about today had not gone as planned. But I was thankful that it had ended like it did and that I’d been wrong.

Sitting back, I let the unusual quiet wash over me. I was too distracted, by both the crazy letters Molly was getting and Julie’s divorce drama. To top it off, I had completely screwed up the next weekend’s plans. Fuck.

I’d make it up to her. I’d make it up to us both. ‘Cause right now, the only thing keeping me out here and from kicking in the bathroom door was the knowledge that we weren’t going to be alone for long. I needed that woman, more than I wanted to admit.

Chapter Twenty-Three

~ Molly ~

I was trying hard not to be angry. Really, really, really trying. And failing.

Mike wasn’t my boyfriend. He owed me nothing. And yet here I was, sulking in the recliner in the corner of the bus like a jilted girlfriend as we crossed the Nevada border into the Golden State.

Vegas had been…well, Vegas. I swear that none of the fans who came to see us at The Cosmopolitan were actually local people. Instead, they were all diehard fans who wanted to party hard in Sin City. Mission seriously accomplished.

Well, at least I’d partied hard, as did most of the ‘Bama Boys. Nate had nursed one beer all night while his wife secretly sipped a club soda. I wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed, and the two of them sure as hell weren’t saying anything about it, so I played dumb. Mike had been too busy scowling at me and treating me like a child to finish the one beer he usually allowed himself.

Eh, whatever. It was Vegas, baby! Anything I did here stayed here, after all. Well, except for the raging headache that had been pestering me ever since we’d crawled onto the bus sometime early this morning when the party had finally ended.

And my anger. That was my own little black cloud, following me everywhere I went. I was seriously pissed off at Mr. Carson, bodyguard extraordinaire.

So, as we chased the sun, my friends slept off their liquor in their bunks and I huddled in a recliner, sipping lukewarm coffee and chastising myself because there was no reason for me to feel like I did. Yes, it was pointless. And no, I had no right. But my heart didn’t know that.

I was still beating myself up when the boys started waking up a few hours later. I listened as they laughed joyfully and looked forward to our mini-vacation. Yeah, we were still working, with shows almost nightly and more interviews than I wanted to think about, but we would be off the damn bus and out of each other’s hair.

I smiled at the pleasant thought of a real bed, a private bathroom, and a shower bigger than a shoebox. And solitude. I hadn’t been alone in a room in so long I couldn’t remember when the last time was. It really was the little things that made me a happy girl.

Well, the little things and Mike. Mike in my bed doing those gloriously naughty things that he liked to do. It would be the first night since he joined the tour that I wouldn’t have Mike sleeping a few small feet away. The thought made me sad.

I closed my eyes, trying to force those unwanted thoughts away. And focused on clean sheets, a king-size bed, and a bathroom with a tub.

I was still trying to be positive a few hours later when I unlocked and pushed open the door to my hotel room. Mike went in first, prowling around the room, looking for signs of danger. When he realized it was clear, he turned toward where I stood holding the door open.

“You can come in now, it’s all good.”

I shook my head. “I wanna lock up after you leave.”

“Leave?” He looked confused. “Why in the hell would I leave?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to get your family?” I snapped back, my voice full of sarcasm.

The asshole laughed as he sauntered across the room toward me, entirely too sexy. When he reached me, he grabbed my hand, yanking me away from the door, and as soon as it shut, my back was against it. “I’m going to say this once, and then we aren’t going to talk about it again, okay?” He adjusted his stance, spreading his legs a bit and bracing his hands on either side of my head. “Jake and his family will be here later this afternoon, and Lia is having them picked up. They’ll call me when they settle into their room.”

He leaned in super close, staring into my eyes, and continued, “I think you’ve forgotten how this works, beautiful. I told you that first night, we are gonna be together non-stop. Wherever you go, I go. Wherever I go, you go. Simple as that. So when my visitors get here in a few hours, we’re gonna have dinner with them.”

He grinned wickedly. “But they’re not going to be here for a few hours”—his hands flew to the buttons on my shirt as he bit his bottom lip—“and I have plans for you.”

My heart thumped in my chest so fast it could have been mistaken for the bass beat in a hip-hop song, and I struggled to find the words I wanted to say. “You”—I cleared my throat—“you do?”

He nodded, smiling as he slid the last button through the hole. “I do.”

Then I was in his arms and he was carrying me across the room, through the bedroom quickly, and straight into the bathroom. He put me down on the marble counter and pushed the blouse off my shoulders.

He trailed his fingertips from my shoulders down my arms, ghosted them down my torso and onto my legs, making goose bumps erupt everywhere. Reaching my feet, he pried my sneakers off each foot, then my socks, and then he pulled me to my feet. When he reached for the button on my jeans, I laid my hand over his, stopping him.

“Are we taking a bath?”

He batted my hand away, snapping my pants open and slowly sliding down the zipper. “Nope.” Gently pushing the denim over my hips, he lifted his eyes to mine. “We are going to get in that porn star shower and use it for what it was designed for.”

I glanced over his shoulder, trying to see said shower, but the curtain was pulled. Mike’s fingers, racing back up my legs, pulled my gaze away. When two fingers snuck under my lace panties and yanked, tearing them straight from my body, I jerked my eyes back to him. He merely raised a brow.

“You’re going to wash my hair?”

My bra was his next victim, and it went sailing over his head and across the room behind him. “Such a smartass.” His thumb traced my bottom lip. “I’m going to wash every single part of you, Miss Molly. But I’m going to get you very dirty first.”

I couldn’t breathe. The “every single part” of me he’d just mentioned jumped to attention, knowing what was coming. He stepped back, putting just a smidge of distance between us before yanking his own shirt over his head and then dropping his jeans. The man had gone commando. Good Lord, he was trying to kill me.

I wanted to touch him. I longed to run my fingertips down the deep ridge between his pecs, tracing the bumps of his six pack, then over his hard flat stomach. From there, I could walk my fingers to his hips and back, enjoying the shallow grooves that formed a v, leading straight to…

I completely lost my train of thought when I realized that he was once again bare. Bald. I did what I could to keep up with my ladyscaping while I was on tour, but the bus wasn’t really the best location to maintain a close shave, and there were no places along our tour route that I trusted for a drop-in wax. How in the hell did he find the time to keep himself hair free?

Unable to keep the thought to myself, I asked him. Instead of responding, he raised an eyebrow and watched me for a minute before he tipped his head back and laughed. The loud noise seemed to echo off the tiled walls, making it seem louder than it was.

I waited until he’d composed himself a little. “What in the hell is so funny?”

He only grinned. “Only you.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I’m standing here, buck ass naked, looking like this”—he glanced down at his body while motioning to the part of his anatomy that was pointing at me—“and the only thing you notice is that I shaved.”

I settled my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes at him, ready with a snappy comeback when I realized that his eyes were glued to my chest. I dropped my eyes, remembering too late that I was just as naked as he was and the girls were pushed out because of the way I was standing. I moved my eyes back to his face, rolling them when I saw that his were still glued to my boobs.

I gave them a little shimmy, just a little shake, making him groan. The entire situation was so absurd, a scene from someone else’s life—not mine—that I started to laugh. Within seconds, he’d joined me, and we were two naked morons cackling in a hotel bathroom until tears burned my eyes.

“Come on.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the shower a few minutes later. He hadn’t been lying—the walk-in shower was huge, with not only his and her showerheads, but one in the middle overhead, and had definitely been designed with sex in mind. I turned on the faucets, waiting only seconds until the water turned hot, and then I pushed him in.

The force of the jets was indescribable. I’d had orgasms that hadn’t made me feel as good as the pressure from them did. I rolled my chin on my chest, letting the water pelt my neck, and moaned.

“Christ,” the low growl came from next to my ear, “I fucking love it when you make that sound.”

“Yeah?” I laughed and leaned my head back, soaking my hair. I grabbed the shampoo bottle from the shelf and shoved it into his hands.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He sounded completely bewildered.

“Wash my hair.”

“Uh…” When he didn’t finish his thought, I started to turn, but his hands in my hair stopped me. It took him a few seconds, but he got the hang of it and was scrubbing my scalp in no time. As he rinsed it out a few minutes later, he dropped a kiss on my shoulder. “I’ve never washed anyone’s hair before.”

I turned, staring up at him. “Really? Well, you did a great job. My turn.” He didn’t move. “Turn around, silly, let me wash yours.”

He chuckled. “I’m five feet taller than you, kid. How in the hell are you gonna reach?”

“Shut it and turn.”

Thankfully, he bent his knees and scooched enough so I was able to reach his head. As I was rinsing the last of the suds out, I worked up the courage to ask the question that had been in the back of my mind for weeks. “I’m gonna be nosy, but…”

“Why don’t I have pubes?” Ugh, men! He laughed, wrapping me in a hug as he turned. “It’s started because I was gullible as shit.” He shrugged. “At boot camp, we heard horror stories about living in the desert. Some of the things that made life shit while you were there—brutalized feet, chapped lips, dry skin, bugs—were preventable. You wanted to make sure you had plenty of sunscreen, a large supply of ChapStick, foot powder to keep the moisture out of your boots, and collars to keep the fucking sand fleas at bay.”

He laughed. “Fuck, I was young. Before I headed out to A-School, I decided to try something the guys had joked about. I don’t hate bugs, Mols, but the idea of fleas invading my bush freaked me the hell out. So I did the only thing I could. I shaved the fucking thing off. But let me tell you, when that thing grows back in, it’s itchy as fuck. So I just kept shaving. When that got old, I started to wax.”

I leaned back, wide-eyed. “Seriously?”

He pulled my hand down to the region of topic, moving my hand over where his hair would have been. He was smooth. “Seriously.” He reached behind me and turned off the water. Grabbing two towels from the rack on the wall next to the shower, he wrapped one around me before tying his own around his waist. With a hand on my back, he led me into the common room of our suite and to the bed.

“Come take a nap with me.”

“You don’t want to get ready for your family?”

He shook his head as he pulled back the covers on the California king. “I’ve slept like shit for weeks. I need you, in that bed, in my arms, now.”

I was exhausted. It had been weeks—ever since New York—since I’d slept well. Who was I to argue with such a sweet request?

When a ringing phone woke me up a few hours later, I didn’t want to move out of the Mike-cocoon I was wrapped in. He hadn’t gotten me dirty in the shower, but sleeping all tucked up in him was a million times better. The little kisses he kept dropping on my collarbone didn’t do much to convince me it was time to get up.

“Make it stop, Mols. For the love of God, make it stop.” He groaned when the phone started screaming again.

“That’s yours, silly. Not mine.” The ring was high and shrill, and extremely annoying. “Who would you give that ringtone to? It’s horrific!”

He chuckled against my neck, blowing on the skin slightly and making goose bumps appear everywhere. “Julie.”

I sat up. Shit! That meant they were here. In the hotel. And they wanted to see the man who was in my bed. Shit! “We gotta go!” His thick arms held me in place. “Mike!” I pushed against him, but he didn’t move.

“No. You need to come cuddle me.”

“I have been cuddling you. All day. Now we have to go.”

When his phone went off again, he swore. “Fucking Christ, Julie, we’re coming.” He pulled me down for a quick kiss, one that I felt all the way to my toes, and then he was out of bed.

I rushed across the room to my bag, horrified when I realized I had nothing suitable. “I don’t have anything to wear!”

He stopped and turned to me, eyeing my bag suspiciously. “Seriously?”

“I can’t wear a stage outfit!” I cried, letting the panic over our upcoming dinner sneak in. “Today was laundry day. I have nothing nice clean!”

“Jeans, babe. Wear jeans.”

I threw my hands in the air. “It’s a swanky hotel restaurant. They’ll turn me away!”

In two strides he was in front of me and his hands were gripping the back of my head, tipping my face up to his. Then his lips were on mine. “Calm down.” He slid his nose up my cheek, and then kissed my forehead in a soothing gesture. “You could go down there dressed in a brown paper bag and they’d let you in. I need you to relax so you can keep me calm, okay? Julie always manages to nitpick her way under my skin, and I’m gonna need you to distract me. Please?”

I nodded, cupping his cheek. “I’m your girl.” I meant that I was the girl for the job, that he could count on me, that I would let go of my stupid anxiety and focus on him.

I could tell by the odd look that passed over his face that he had taken my words another way. “You are.” His eyes softened as he leaned his forehead against mine. “Don’t you forget it.”

I don’t know what I expected. I’d met Julie briefly a few months ago at Nate and Lia’s wedding. And I’d gotten to visit with Jake a handful of times over the years. But Janet was new to me, and I’d never been alone with the Carson family. It didn’t matter how many times Mike insisted that they weren’t his family, when you saw them together, it was obvious.

Jake had sprouted up a few inches from the last time I’d seen him, and even though Mike had dyed his hair dark, Jake was the spitting image of his dad in every other way. It was almost eerie to see the resemblance. Jake could have been a clone.

Jake may have looked just like his daddy, but Janet looked just like their mom.

When we stepped off the elevator, a child’s excited shriek greeted us. Then a blur was running toward us at full speed, yelling, “Daddy Mike! Daddy Mike!”

The man next to me didn’t hesitate. He didn’t stop to remember that the little girl barreling toward him wasn’t his flesh and blood. The look of pure joy on his face as he dropped to one knee and held open his arms was enough to break my heart. If it hadn’t been enough to make me want to cry, the kiss she planted on his cheek and the way she wrapped her little arms around his neck, as if she never wanted to let go, were.

“Janet!” Julie snapped as she approached us. “Let Uncle Mike breathe.” The fact that she corrected the name Janet used was not lost on me, and I hated the tone she used.

Mike stood, the little girl on his hip. “She’s fine.” His tone left no room for argument, and he adjusted his attention to the young man a few feet away, his face instantly transforming and showing pure delight. Holding out his free arm, he asked, “Too old to hug your dad in public?”

Jake shook his head, Mike’s joy mirrored on his face, and he lunged for his dad. “I missed you, Dad!”

“I missed you more, bud!” Mike assured him, ruffling his hair. He looked up, meeting my eyes and giving me a shy smile. “Nettie, this is my friend Molly. Molly, this is Janet. And you remember Jake and Julie.”

They all seemed to notice me at the same time, and three sets of eyes turned to me. Jake mumbled a hello, but when I smiled at him, a deep red crept up his cheeks. Janet offered me a toothy grin, but didn’t say anything.

“Hello again, Molly.” Julie’s voice was cool, obviously annoyed. She offered me a small, tight smile. “I hadn’t realized you were going to join us.”

“I invited her.” Mike spoke up before I could respond.

“Of course you did.” She rolled her eyes, fluffing her hair back over her shoulder and smoothing her hands over an exquisite black pantsuit that molded to her perfectly toned body and looked like it cost more than my entire wardrobe—and I had decent clothes. “I thought we were going to have time to talk.”

“I’m working, Julie.” Mike’s tone wasn’t enough to upset the kids, but it definitely held a warning. “I told you I was working this weekend.”

“Nice to see things have changed.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she turned and headed across the lobby toward the restaurant.

Mike caught my eye over the kids’ heads and rolled them exaggeratedly. He tipped his head in the direction she’d gone. “After you, beautiful.”

Janet was glued to Mikey, chattering all the way across the lobby about how much she’d missed him. Once we were shown to a table, she demanded a seat next to him at dinner. Not that I blamed her—she’d been without him for far too long. Jake had apparently gotten over his embarrassment and wanted to sit next to me, and Julie insisted that she sit between her children, which left my free side next to Mike. I wouldn’t complain about that.

We ordered drinks and I perused the menu while the kids made small talk with their parents until our waiter came back. When it was my turn, I ordered my favorite and he moved on to Mike.

Jake leaned toward me, elbow on the table, and stared at me horrified. “You got steak.”

I nodded, glancing at Mike, unsure of what the teenager was trying to imply. “I did.”

“You eat meat?”

I sat a little straighter, realizing that I must have made the biggest faux pas ever. I hadn’t listened to what everyone else ordered. Was Mike’s family vegetarian? Why would he not tell me that? I swallowed roughly. “I do. Do you not?”

“No, I do.” Jake nodded. “I just read somewhere that you didn’t.”

“Really?” I giggled at that. I found it so absurd that people read random facts about my life—usually none of them real—in magazines and online. “Well, that one’s not true. What else did you read?”

He sipped his water then twisted his lips in thought. The same way I’d seen his dad react to questions. Then his eyes lit up and darted over my shoulder, probably at his dad, before meeting mine. He beamed at me, then took a deep breath. “Did you really get asked to pose for Playboy?”

Mike choked on his drink behind me, but I ignored him, shaking my head. “Nope. It was Penthouse.”

The choking turned into a coughing fit, and I almost turned to ask him if he was okay.

“Are you going to do it?”

“Jacob Nathaniel!” Julie hissed, setting her glass of water down hard enough for it to spill over the side. Glaring at me, she seethed, “Not a conversation to have with my son.”

She had a really good point, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

Jake just shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a secret, Mom. You can find the answer anywhere online.” Turning back to me, he asked again, “So, are you going to pose for them?”

“Over my dead body,” Mike growled, causing all eyes at the table to turn to him. He only shook his head. “Not happening.”

It was my turn to shrug as I turned back to Jake. “I actually haven’t decided yet.”

“I just decided for you,” Mike countered.

I snapped my head back toward him. “A photo shoot is the safest place there is. Not something you have to worry about. I told them that after the tour we’d talk.”

Mike leaned into my space, nose practically touching mine. “Penthouse is a thousand times worse than Playboy. Have you ever even seen one? The kind of pictures they publish?”

I shook my head, because I actually had no idea what kind of pictures they printed.

“You are not going to pose for them. End of discussion.”

Julie cleared her throat, bringing us both back to the present, and I glanced at the tables closest to us. No one was watching us, and if they had heard our conversation, they were doing an expert job pretending they hadn’t. God bless L.A. and the people that were so used to seeing real celebrities involved in scandalous situations that they didn’t pay us any attention.

“Daddy…” Janet tugged on Mike’s sleeve, begging for his attention.

“Never going to happen,” he assured me before turning back to the little girl.

I watched the two of them for a few seconds, my heart growing three sizes at the adorable interactions, seeing a side of him that rarely came out to play. This was a man who would throw on a dress and play tea party. I could see him sitting cross-legged on the floor, painting her nails and doing her hair, simply because that is what his little girl wanted him to do.

I didn’t know if her dad was as great, or if he was really as much of a douche as I’d been told he was, but in that moment, I was thankful Janet had Mike. I hoped that he’d stay a permanent fixture in her life. My tough-as-nails man needed that little girl, even more than she needed him.