ANYWHERE WITH YOU

ERIKA KELLY

CONTENTS

Praise for The Calamity Falls series

Titles by Erika Kelly

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Excerpt from The Deeper I Fall

About the Author

ANYWHERE WITH YOU

Erika Kelly

ISBN: 978-1-955462-11-2

Copyright 2022 EK Publishing, LLC

All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously or are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design and Formatting by Serendipity Formatting

PRAISE FOR THE CALAMITY FALLS SERIES

KEEP ON LOVING YOU

“I adored this book! It is exactly what I love in a second-chance romance. The characters are so vibrant and real, I was rooting for them with every page.”  —USA Today Bestseller Devney Perry

“KEEP ON LOVING YOU is such a fun and sexy second-chance romance that I didn’t want it to end. Their connection is a swoony blend of tender first love and sizzling heat, and Erika Kelly delivers a highly entertaining and sigh-worthy romance that shouldn’t be missed.”

—Mary Dube, USA Today

WE BELONG TOGETHER

“I loved every sweet, heart-wrenching, crazy, mixed-up minute of this book. It was an emotional journey from the first chapter to the last. This is Erika Kelly at her best, and this is a not-to-be-missed book!” —Sharon Slick Reads, Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

“Erika Kelly damn near pulled my heart from my chest with Delilah and Will’s story. It’s so well-written that you feel everything. My heart got tugged so hard! I honestly cried at a few moments in the book. I fell all the way in love with “Wooby.” It’s hard not to, really.” —Ree Cee’s Books

THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU

“Wow, THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU was simply OUTSTANDING! This second chance, friends to lovers romance is enchanting and entertaining.” —Spellbound Stories

“I just finished this story, and I want to start all over again. Or maybe at the start of series. To once again feel the events, the emotions, that brought these amazing characters together. To hear the banter and the arguments, the sorrow, the loss and the happiness that brought a family together and closer.” —Nerdy, Dirty, and Flirty

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

"An alpha cowboy and a smart, sassy princess collide in JUST THE WAY YOU ARE in Erika Kelly's latest, and it was fabulous! I was cheering for Brodie and Rosalina with every page. If you love stories with heart, steam, and plenty of swoon, don't miss this one!" —USA Today Bestselling Author J.H. Croix

"With the Calamity Falls series, Kelly doesn't shy away from charming. She captivates with delectable characters that wrap themselves around a heart. From the first hello to the final goodbye, Rosalina and Brodie are a match made out of the unpredictable, but the sweetest kind of heaven. JUST THE WAY YOU ARE is the perfect example of why I am hooked on this series. SWOONWORTHY READ!" —Hopeless Romantic Book Reviews

IT WAS ALWAYS YOU

“This book was full of every emotion you could ever feel. Gigi and Cassian proved you can conquer anything with true love.” —Cat’s Guilty Pleasure

“I could not put this book down! Erika Kelly always delivers a great love story and never disappoints! I recommend this book for romance lovers looking to get lost in a great love story.” —Reading in Pajamas

CAN’T HELP FALLING IN LOVE

“I love everything about this emotional and sexy, second chance story. Erika Kelly writes a story that makes me feel like I’m right there with the two main characters, Beckett and Coco. It is a slow burn, passionate story with lots of underlying tension. I not only enjoyed this story, but I found it impossible to put down.” —Cocktails and Books

“I loved everything about this book. I loved all the characters, from Beckett, ‘I don’t believe in love,’ to single mom, small business-owning, closed-off Coco, to a fairy-believing five-year-old who will steal your heart! I cannot gush enough about how spectacular I thought this book was.” – Bookcase and Coffee

WHOLE LOTTA LOVE

“BRILLIANT! This book was incredible, I could not put this book down, that is how good Lu and Xander’s story was. I fell in love with these two characters instantly.” – Harlequin Junkie

“Whole Lotta Love was absolutely perfect! You will instantly love this couple and their journey to find happiness!” – Just Love Books

YOU’RE STILL THE ONE

“Griffin and Stella really are soulmates. They bring out the best of each other, and when they're together, everything is better. Their world is better with the love they feel for each other. And I think they made my world better a bit, too.” – Jersey Girl’s Bookshelf

“WOW! WOW! WOW! Welcome to all the feels! I ADORED Stella and Griffin's story. I was completely lost in this book and didn't want to put it down. I FELT everything, and I can't tell you how much I loved it.” – Books According to Abby

THE DEEPER I FALL

“This was the type of book you just cannot put down without indulging in one more chapter, and boy, did Phinny and Declan roll out all that slow burn goodness in this book. As far as chemistry goes these two were off the charts!  I absolutely cannot wait to go back to Calamity for the next swoon worth romance!” – Harlequin Junkie

“I couldn't fall any Deeper if I tried! This book had my emotions all over the place. I laughed, cried, and generally just felt.” – Christine Raroha-Blood

TITLES BY ERIKA KELLY

The Calamity Falls series

KEEP ON LOVING YOU

WE BELONG TOGETHER

THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

IT WAS ALWAYS YOU

CAN’T HELP FALING IN LOVE

COME AWAY WITH ME

WHOLE LOTTA LOVE

YOU’RE STILL THE ONE

THE DEEPER I FALL

LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO

Have you read the Rock Star Romance series? Come meet the sexy rockers of Blue Fire:

YOU REALLY GOT ME

I WANT YOU TO WANT ME

TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

MORE THAN A FEELING

Sign up for my newsletter to read the EXCLUSIVE novella for my readers only! You'll get two chapters a month of this super sexy, fun romance! #rockstarromance #teenidolturnedboyfriend Also, get PLANES, TRAINS, AND HEAD OVER HEELS for FREE! I hope you’ll come hang out with me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, and Pinterest or in my private reader group.

This book is dedicated to my newsletter subscribers for making these serials so much fun!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Dear Superman, we have walked through the fire and never stopped holding hands. I love you.

Thank you to Erica for being a friend in this crazy business.

Thank you to Melissa for always straightening my crown.

Thank you to Olivia for being my partner in all things romance, cooking competitions, dessert, and Sunday brunch.

And thank you to the readers, bloggers, reviewers, and all my author friends who make this job so richly rewarding and worthwhile.

CHAPTER ONE

Della Swanson dropped the duster into the side pocket of her cart, then turned to face the room. For the very last time, she soaked in everything that was Van Claybourne. The gleaming grand piano, the drum kit in the corner, and the unusual instruments hanging on the wall. She could imagine this house filled with people jamming, talking, eating good food…having a great time.

And she’d wanted to be part of that.

She’d applied for this job because, unlike other seasonal resorts, it paid well and covered room and board. It certainly hadn’t hurt that her rock star idol had a house here, but never in a million years had she thought she’d actually get to clean it.

Getting this assignment had felt like fate, like the universe had thrown them together. She’d never really known what to think of Van. She’d fallen for him because of his brilliant, powerful lyrics, but the media depicted him as a hard-partying manwhore. Which one was he?

Once she’d gotten a glimpse of his private world, though, he’d wound up surpassing her expectations. His home didn’t have any of the gross stuff associated with rock stars. No used condoms, empty booze bottles, or thongs dangling off lampshades.

She figured she’d meet him at some point. How could she not? She’d been in Calamity six months.

Sure, he was touring right now, but he took breaks. He’d been here. She knew because sometimes she’d show up to clean and find dishes in the sink, leftovers in the refrigerator, and an unmade bed.

And now it was over. In two hours, she’d board a shuttle to the airport and go home. This really was it. Her last time ever in Van’s vacation home.

She took one last look at the framed photos lining the mantel. Him with his dogs, with children she assumed were nieces and nephews, and with his mom and grandparents. He might not be married (thank God), but he was a family man through-and-through.

He was nothing like his public persona.

Her heart clenched…what if I stay a few more days…one more week?

Cut it out. It was time to go home. She’d come out here to work so she could save up a pile of cash, and she wasn’t about to burn through it for a silly schoolgirl fantasy.

“Bye, Van.” She pushed her cart out the door and blew a kiss into the empty room.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

The shuttle soared down the highway. It was nearly empty, so Della had a row to herself and could chat freely on the phone with her best friend.

“Hey,” Micky said. “I thought I was driving you.”

“You’re six months pregnant and building a new home, not to mention the crazy hours you work. There’s no way you’re driving me to Salt Lake City.” Della was happy her friend had created such a beautiful life for herself, but there was a tiny corner of her heart that ached.

And it wasn’t just that pinch of jealousy that Micky had it all—a dream job, a sexy, kind fiancé, and a whole new, exciting life. It was that she would miss her dearest friend with everything she had.

“I wanted to drive you. Della…” Her friend sounded disappointed. “I don’t know when I’m going to see you again.”

“Sure, you do. I’ll be there when the baby comes in August.”

“You don’t know that. You’re going to be busy starting your company. It’s not like you can bail on clients.”

Della glanced out the window, feeling more alone than she ever had in her life. Every mile took her closer to home and a future she’d never expected. She and Micky were supposed to start this event planning business together. And now she had to do it on her own. “Oh, please. There’s nothing that would keep me from meeting my godchild.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

Leave it to Micky to see right through Della’s swagger. “Yeah, me, too.” They’d never been apart. Not since they’d met in first grade.

“I wish you’d stay.”

The frank sadness in her friend’s tone made Della close her eyes. “I know.” But it was different for Micky. She’d fallen in love with a man from Wild Wolff Village, a ski resort in Calamity, Wyoming. She was engaged and pregnant with her first child, and there just wasn’t room for Della.

“I wish you’d consider working here with me. I know I can get you a job.”

“Why would I want a job when I can run the whole show?” She rallied with a teasing tone. “Come on, you know me better than that.” Not that she hadn’t thought about it. Of course, she had. But they’d come to the village to work and play together, and instead Micky had been preoccupied with building a house, OB/Gyn visits, and spending time with her fiancé. It wasn’t her friend’s fault, but Della had been peripheral.

And that’s not who I am.

I want more. I want to be the star of my life, not the third wheel.

Worse, she knew Micky. Her friend would feel responsible for her and try to include her in everything, but the fact was simple: there wasn’t room for Della in Micky’s new life.

No, Della had scrubbed toilets for a reason. To sock away her paychecks and jumpstart her life. “I promise I’ll be back when the baby comes. No matter what.” The shuttle headed for the offramp toward a gas station. “I’ve got to go. We don’t get a lot of stops, so I have to run in and use the bathroom—”

“And get a Frappuccino. I know.” Micky sighed. “I love you, and I miss you, and…God, Dell. We’ve never been apart. I don’t want to do this without you.”

“If only Rhys’s brother hadn’t been married…”

“Oh, my God, I would’ve loved that. Then, we’d be sisters for real.”

Della lowered her head. This is killing me. They’d always loved each other more than sisters because they’d chosen each other. Every day for twenty-one years. “You’re going to make me cry. Hang up, you wanker.”

“No, you hang up.”

Della laughed. “Don’t you have a crib to buy? Curtains to hang? Go.”

Micky made a kissing sound, and Della smacked her right back. Then, she disconnected and got up. As she filed off the shuttle, she noticed a big, fancy bus parked outside the convenience store. Tinted windows, black, glossy panels…It’s a tour bus.

Wouldn’t it be hilarious if it were Van Claybourne’s? He was on tour. But of course, he’d never be in some random gas station on the outskirts of Idaho Falls.

Besides, at his level, he probably traveled on a private jet.

As she walked past it, she heard someone inside hiss, “Shit.”

Blocking the sun with a hand, she peered into the open door. A rail thin man in jeans and a black T-shirt was muttering as he tried to unroll duct tape from the driver’s seat. “Your rearview mirror broke?”

He gave her a side-eye expression that said, No shit, Sherlock.

“That won’t work. The mounting bracket’s too short. Here.” As she climbed onto the bus, she reached into her bag and pulled out Gorilla Glue.

He swiped the perspiration off his forehead. “You carry that around?”

Della grinned. “A woman’s purse, am I right?” Because of the way she looked—her blonde hair, big boobs, and movie-star red lipstick—a lot of people underestimated her.

That’s okay. It gave her the advantage.

He took the bottle from her. “Thanks.”

When it looked like he was going to glue the bracket to the same spot, she reached for it.

“Hang on. Let’s get the old glue off first. Do you have a tool kit?”

“Yeah, sure. But it’s just got a screwdriver and a hammer in it. What’re you looking for?”

“A razor.”

“No, I definitely don’t have anything like that.”

“No problem. Let me just grab my suitcase.” She didn’t have much time, but she’d give it a shot. “Be right back.”

“You got a razor in your suitcase?” he called after her.

She could hear him chuckling as she climbed back onto the shuttle and hauled her luggage off the rack above her seat. The driver wasn’t around, so she couldn’t ask him to wait. But he’d do a head count, she was sure. He wouldn’t just leave without a passenger. It was a resort shuttle.

Back at the bus, she dug out her rhinestone-covered kit. Then, she climbed the steps with her razor.

“Why do you travel with a box cutter?”

“I just finished a job at the Wild Wolff ski resort, and I’m moving back home, so I had to clean out my room and break down some boxes.”

“Okay, MacGyver.”

After scraping off the thin layer of glue, she lowered the blade into its metal pocket and tucked it into the waistband of her leggings. She held her hand out for the bottle, then squeezed out a dab and attached it to the same spot. “Now, go ahead and tape it until it dries. You should be good till you can get it fixed the right way.”

Smiling, the driver shook his head. “What else can you do?”

“What do you need? My mom died when I was fourteen, so it was just me and my dad, and he worked crazy hours. And let me tell you, I’m not the type to wait around for someone to do something for me, so there’s nothing I can’t fix.”

“How about the fridge?” He said it like he was joking, but the sharpness in his eyes let her know he was wondering if she could actually do it.

“What kind of band do you work for that they can’t afford a better bus?” She was only joking, but she didn’t miss the way his gaze shifted over her shoulder. Mortification blasted through her.

There’s a band member standing right behind me, isn’t there?

“Sorry. I was only kidding, but that was rude. Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s actually a new bus but things can get a little rowdy.” He shrugged. “Life as a tour bus driver.”

“Oh, don’t even tell me these guys are the type who trash hotel rooms. I swear, if I were a band manager, shit like that wouldn’t happen on my watch. I have zero tolerance for people who don’t appreciate the good things in life. Like, you’re one of the lucky few who gets to realize your dreams, and you risk losing it all by acting like a fool? Nuh uh.”

“I hear you, girl.”

“I mean, do they forget what it was like to clean a toilet or fill out order forms or whatever soul-sucking job they started out doing?”

“You’re wise for your age.”

“Twenty-six going on…twenty-seven.” She grinned. “Okay, so, what’s wrong with the fridge?”

“It’s not keeping their beers cold.”

She grinned. “Got it. Let me take a look.”

“Hang on.” He swiveled and moved ahead of her. “Let me just pull the curtain real quick.”

Hm, there must be someone famous on this bus.

Wonder who?

“Okay, come on back,” he called.

The kitchen took up a small section on the right side. She pulled the refrigerator out of its compartment and pried off the access panel. “There you go.” The evaporator coils had too much frost which wasn’t letting enough air flow through. “Do you have a blow dryer?”

“Uh…” He glanced toward the curtain.

Right. He didn’t want her to see behind the curtain. “I’ve got one in my suitcase.” It only took her a moment to grab it, plug it in, and warm the coils. “That should do the trick.”

“You really fixed all my problems?”

“I don’t have time to fix all your problems.” She dropped the hairdryer back into her carry-on and zipped it up. “But we knocked out two of them.”

“You’re a godsend. Thank you. I mean that sincerely.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I better get going so I can grab my road snacks.” She hurried off. “Drive safe.”

“Hold up.” A man in a suit appeared in the doorway of the bus.

Oh, God. That’s who’d been listening in on her conversation. Why had she badmouthed his bus?

“Where are you headed right now?” he asked.

She glanced at the shuttle. Still there, thank God. “Salt Lake City airport.”

“And where are you flying to?”

“Arizona. Why, you want to give me a lift?”

He watched her carefully, taking in her leggings and the cropped T-shirt that exposed a slice of her belly. “And what’s waiting for you in Arizona?”

She felt the sting of his question in the center of her chest. “My dad.” Besides him, home had always been Micky and Carson, Micky’s ex-boyfriend. Both of them were gone now. Going home sounded bleaker by the minute.

“No job?” the man asked.

“No, but I’m starting my own business.” She flashed him a grin. “And it’ll be fabulous.”

“I believe it,” the bus driver said.

The shuttle engine rumbled to life. “Anyhow, safe travels.” She turned to go. She wouldn’t have time to use the restroom or grab her snacks.

My Frappucino!

“Would you like a job?” the suit called.

Turning back, she gave him a slow smile. “I tell you I’m starting my own business, and you offer me a measly job?” She raised an eyebrow. I’m listening.

“Martin Branson, band manager.”

“Della Swanson, bus-fixer, poet, and best friend you’ll ever have.”

That serious expression lifted for just a moment. “I have to head back to LA.” He tipped his head toward the bus. “And the guys have to finish their tour. You interested?”

“What’s the job?”

“Personal assistant.”

“I’d be a kickass PA.”

The shuttle driver honked and called out the open door. “Got to get going.”

She held up a finger, never once taking her gaze off Martin. “But I’ve got bigger plans, so you’ve got one shot to make it worth missing my flight home. What’s the pay?”

“One fifty K.”

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Clarify. And if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, I want a contract.”

“Oh, you’ll get a contract.” He cracked a grin. “You’ll get several.”

“Is this real? Or am I going to wave the shuttle on, only to find out I have to get naked to do this job?”

“You’ll work ridiculous hours, you’ll see unspeakable things, but I can guarantee you this job is real and above board.”

“And you’re seriously going to pay me one hundred and fifty thousand dollars to make some musician’s smoothie every morning?”

“No, that’s the annual salary. You’re only working until the tour ends in a few days.”

Oh. That wouldn’t amount to much. Unless… “But you’re paying me for a full month, right?”

“I can absolutely do that.”

She motioned for the shuttle driver to go without her.

“You sure?” he called.

She gave him a thumbs up. The door shut, and he pulled out of the parking lot.

Holy shit. I’m going to make twelve grand for a few days of work.

This is insane.

Micky’s not going to believe this.

“Who’s the band?” she asked. “Have I ever heard of them?”

Martin’s expression shuttered. “Does it matter?”

“Not one little bit.” She reached out a hand, and he shook it. “My bus just left so this might be a really bad question, but am I starting now?”

He glanced at her suitcase. “Right now.”

“Cool. Let me just grab my snacks, and I’ll be back in ten minutes. Is that enough time for you to write up a contract?”

Martin’s eyes crinkled when he grinned, and she knew he liked her. “You won’t get contracts until I’m back in my office in LA.” A sleek black town car pulled up alongside them.

“Other than an employment agreement, what other contract are we talking about?”

“You’ll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

“So, this is a big band? Famous?”

“It wouldn’t matter what level. You’d need an NDA to work with any band.”

The driver of the car opened the passenger side window. “Martin Branson?”

He nodded and held up a finger before returning to Della. “Okay, I’ll be in touch.”

“Well, wait. What do I do while I’m waiting for the contracts?”

“There are only two guys on the bus, and they both have their own bedrooms, so you’ve got your pick of the bunk beds. Watch TV, read, make an espresso. Write up that business plan.”

“There are only two band members? What is this, Hall and Oates? Simon and Garfunkel?”

With a grin and a shake of his head, he picked up his leather overnight bag and got into the backseat of the sleek, black sedan. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Black Keys?” she called after him. “Pet Shop Boys?”

Martin laughed and waved goodbye as the car headed out.

“This feels sketchy.” Della turned to the bus driver. “Is it sketchy? Here I am thinking rock band, but maybe it’s a band of thieves or a band of strippers.”

“Until you sign an NDA, they won’t tell you a thing. Go get your snacks. We’ve got a venue to get to.”

Della dashed into the store, immediately pulling out her phone and calling Micky. After catching her up on the last fifteen minutes, she said, “Venue, nondisclosure agreements, twelve thousand dollars…holy shit, Mick, what is happening?” There were three men on that bus. The driver and two band members. “Am I insane to do this?

“You might be. I’m completely freaking out. This is crazy.”

With her cold drinks and snacks, Della got in line. “In the event of my untimely disappearance, I’m going to send you a photo of the bus’s license plate.”

“Not funny. Isn’t there any clue who the band is? There must be something.”

Della glanced out the window. “Nope. It’s a fancy bus, but it doesn’t say anything. Hm, maybe the White Stripes?”

“No, you said two guys.”

“Twenty One Pilots?”

“Oh, my God, Dell, I don’t know. I only know you’re going to be alone with them. All night. I am not good with this.”

“Well, it’s too late now. I’m stranded in a gas station somewhere outside of Idaho Falls.”

“It’s never too late. You can catch a cab to the airport, buy a ticket, and go home. Or…” Micky drew out the single syllable. “You can stay right where you are, and I can come pick you up.”

“Nope.” Excitement buzzing through her, she set her four Frappucinos, a bag of mixed nuts, gum, and a Caramello bar on the counter and pulled out her wallet. “I’m doing this.”

“I know you are.” Micky exhaled in frustration. “Well, did the manager look skeezy? Was it a cheap suit?”

“I’ve spent the last six months cleaning for the wealthiest people in the world, and I can tell you that man’s underwear is probably silk. Trust me, his cologne, his watch…I mean, his overnight bag probably cost as much as first and last month’s rent on my next apartment.” Although, since she’d be living in Bixby, that wasn’t saying much.

Finished paying, she shoved her wallet back into her purse and grabbed her paper bag.

“I really wish you’d reconsider,” Micky said.

Heading out the door, Della knew one thing: she didn’t want to go back home without her best friend. And let’s be honest. Micky’s the event planner. Not me.

Of course, Della would go all-in and make it one hell of a successful business, but she’d only gone along with the idea because she wanted to work with her friend and didn’t have any real goals of her own.

Well, there was one thing. But poetry wasn’t a career.

In any event, delaying the launch by a few days wasn’t a hardship. “Nah. I’m throwing the dice on this one. And, you know, worst case scenario, someone tries to make a move on me, and I give him a rabbit punch.” When her friend was quiet, she tried to break the tension. “How glad are you right now that we took those self-defense classes?”

“It’s not funny.”

“Look, if anything bad goes down, I’ll tell the driver to pull over, and I’ll get off. I’ll be fine.” She’d reached the bus. “Okay, I’m here. I’ve got to go.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

As Della climbed the steps, the driver closed the doors behind her.

“Beyonce and Jay-Z?” she asked him.

As he pressed the accelerator, he shook his head. “I already signed my NDA.”

“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking. Martin didn’t say anything about a rock band. So, I’m thinking it’s either a Chippendales dance troupe or The Flying Wallendas.”

“If you promise to sit your ass down, I’ll tell you.”

Dropping the handle of her carry-on, she pulled down the jump seat. “Promise.”

He drew in a breath, looking solemn. “It’s a Journey tribute band.”

She stood abruptly, making the seat snap shut. “Whoa. Let’s not build our relationship on a bed of lies.” Just as he braked before turning out of the lot, she held out her hand. “I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Della Swanson.”

“Warner, but they call me Scat.”

“Scat?” That didn’t sound very nice.

“Yes, because everyone’s always coming up here to jaw with me, and I tell them to scat. Can’t stand drunken fools. Now, will you go on back and settle down?”

“Yes, but…”

He gave her a concerned look. “What?”

“I mean, where do I go? I’ve never been on a tour bus. Until I hear from Martin, I assume I should stay out of everyone’s way, right?”

“Right, so because this bus has two master suites, it’s only got a small kitchen area. Once you get past it, you’ll see two closed doors, one on either side of the hallway. At the very back is a lounge. Leave that to the guys. Up the stairs, you’ll find six bunks. One of them’s mine, but I’m off the bus any chance I get. Choose any of the others—they’re all clean. No one’s slept in them.” He looked away. “Might want to stay there till morning.”

“Very cryptic, but I think you’re giving me a hot tip, so I’m going with it.”

“Good idea.”

Her arms ached from carrying her purse, her snacks, and lugging the suitcase, but she had to know something. “What kind of band only has two band members?”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that. We’ve got eight tour buses, but this one’s for the talent. The other guys went ahead to the venue in Salt Lake City while I took care of a few repairs.”

“Must’ve been quite a party.”

He pressed the accelerator and turned right onto the highway. Conversation over.

She hitched her bag onto her shoulder and rolled her carry-on down the hallway. A little hum of anticipation ignited in her belly. Eight tour buses meant a hugely famous band—but which one? The suspense was killing her.

As she reached the lounge, her gaze immediately fell on the tall, broad-shouldered rock star who slouched on one of the black leather couches.

Shock detonated in her chest, sending adrenaline racing through her bloodstream.

Two women knelt at his feet. One of them reached both arms up, her hands splayed on his bare chest, while the other held his very large, erect cock in her hands. Their pink tongues licked and slavered all over it.

Holy shit…it’s him.

It’s Van Claybourne.

CHAPTER TWO

Is this really happening?

I’m on Van Claybourne’s tour bus.

Are you kidding me?

The moment was surreal. After six months of wishing and hoping and dreaming but not meeting him, she randomly wound up at the same gas station as him?

I can’t believe it. It’s Van Claybourne.

And he’s getting a blowjob right in front of me.

Once it registered—the groans, the women’s hips swaying, their breasts jiggling—Della’s spirits plummeted.

He was exactly how the paparazzi depicted him, all lazy-lidded, debauched rocker.

But the pictures with his dogs…the musical instruments and fancy cheeses…the stacks of books…gah. It was hard to reconcile the private man she’d felt like she’d gotten to know in his home with this public one. She’d been so sure he just slapped on the rock star persona to boost sales.

He caught her watching, and she went icy-cold.

His legs spread wider, giving the women more room to service his body, and then…

He winked.

The cute gesture dispelled the tension and disappointment, making Della smile.

Oh, well. So much for her soulmate.

It’s still a great gig.

Striding right past him, she held up her hand for a high five. He slapped her palm.

And then she went upstairs and chose a bunk.

Della awakened to a shitstorm. Her phone pinged so many times in a row, she sat up with a jolt and slammed her head against the ceiling of her coffin-like living space. She had to blink the sleep from her eyes to read the list of chores Martin’s assistant had sent in an email.

Throw me into the deep end, why don’t you?

It was okay, though. She was born for this kind of work.

First things first, they wanted her to buy two first-class tickets from Salt Lake City to Seattle. Using the passenger information they provided, she got it done, then texted the receipts to the travelers.

Before she tackled anything else, though, she needed coffee. Dropping out of her bunk, she listened carefully. The bus had stopped moving around three in the morning, and the lovers had taken their show to the master bedroom around the same time. Since she figured the trio would sleep late, it was probably okay to head down and make herself a pot.

She climbed down the stairs and padded into the kitchen to find it empty. Excellent. No driver either, so she assumed he was sleeping, too. Dropping a pod into the coffee maker, she rooted around the refrigerator, looking for milk. Noting the cold temperature, she bumped her fists together. Nice job.

She found the creamer among the fancy contents of sparkling water, cheeses, and fresh squeezed orange juice. Not what she’d expected for a rock band, but she supposed it made sense.

From behind one of the closed doors, she heard giggles and a low moan.

So much for me-time. She’d have to take her coffee back to her bunk. But before she could stir the cream and sugar, Van said something in his deep, sexy voice, and the women giggled. The door flew open, and last night’s guests sauntered out.

“Morning.” As Van’s assistant, she assumed she should take care of them. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“Oh, no, thanks,” the brunette said. “We’ve got a flight to catch.”

Ah. So, that’s who she’d booked the tickets for.

“Got to get back to real life.” The other woman eyed Della’s coffee like it held a youth serum.

“Well, I hope you had a great time.” Della handed over her mug, and the woman smiled with gratitude.

“It was the best.” The brunette sounded dreamy. “I’ve lusted after Van since I was fourteen. Had his posters all over my walls.”

Ugh. I’m so lame.

Della and six million other fans all believed they’d felt a special connection to him.

“And this is the first time he’s ever offered the add-on meet and greet, so I grabbed it. I never imagined he’d pick me—well, us for the night. And it was better than I could have imagined.”

The one drinking the coffee checked her phone. “Our car’s two minutes away.”

“I can’t wait to tell everybody I slept with Van Claybourne,” the brunette said. “Well, not my parents. Or my sister who would absolutely find a way to blurt it out during Thanksgiving dinner. And afterwards she’d be all, Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” She rolled her eyes.

Behind them, Van strolled down the hallway wearing nothing but gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. She didn’t know when he found the time to work out, but that chest was ripped. When he cocked an arm to run a hand through his famously tousled hair, his biceps popped.

Everything about him screamed sex. He was truly the hottest man she’d ever seen.

The women must’ve noticed her reaction because they both swung around and squealed, draping themselves all over him.

He gave them his lazy grin, letting them run their hands over his bare chest, and when his gaze connected with hers, she smiled.

Until the message in his eyes broke through.

It was her job to herd them off the bus.

Right. Got it.

“Okay, ladies, make sure you’ve got your phones. I texted your flight information. And whose shoes are those?”

The brunette slid her feet into the wedged sandals, and then they both kissed Van, waving as they headed off the bus.

Once they left, he gave her a chin nod. “Thanks.”

“Hey, that’s why you pay me the big bucks.” She reached out a hand. “I’m Della Swanson. Martin’s assistant gave me the calendar and a list of things to do today, but if you need anything, just let me know, and I’m on it.” She turned to the cabinet. “And number one on that list is to make your tea.” She searched the shelves but wasn’t sure if she was looking for a box of tea bags or a canister of loose leaf.

She didn’t see either, so she pulled her phone out of her pocket, quickly scanning the email. All it said was to make his Throat Cure tea. “I’ll stay out of your hair as much as possible but get me started here. Where would I find the tea?”

“The last PA probably took it with her. She was pissed.”

His voice was probably the most recognized in the entire world. And I cannot believe I’m standing right here, talking to him. “Well, whatever happened the night before, that party must’ve been a doozy.” She had to figure out something, so she did a quick search for homemade remedies to soothe vocal cords and found quite a few suggestions. There was only one, though, that she could pull off. “How about I make something with lemon and honey until I can get to the store? I assume we’re in Salt Lake City?” She lifted her gaze to find him chugging a bottle of water. Head tipped back, that muscular chest on display, she could only stare at this stunning male body. The well-defined pecs, the six-pack, and that incredibly sexy V leading to the outline of his semi in those sweatpants.

Okay, dude, really?

Once again, he caught her staring. He might be all easy-going rocker, but he didn’t miss a thing.

Determined to act more professional, she tore her gaze away. “I’ll add the tea to my to-do list.” If she was going to work with him, she had to get a handle on this crush. “Along with ‘Don’t ogle the rock star.’”

He broke into a sexy grin.

“Hey, if you don’t want me looking, wear a shirt.”

He chuckled. “You can look all you want.”

Wait, was that an invitation? Was the man she’d dreamed about for ten years available to her?

If he slept with his assistants, that might explain why the last one had stolen his special tea. She was a spurned lover.

Hm, twelve grand versus one night with Van Claybourne?

But for some strange reason, there was no decision to make because she just didn’t feel attraction. It was like walking into the gym and seeing a bunch of strong, powerful physiques. She could appreciate the men’s bodies, but she didn’t get aroused.

Except this one belongs to Van.

And yet…nothing.

How weird is that?

“Okay, rock star. Let’s get this concoction going and soothe those vocal cords.” They had an electric kettle, so she filled it with water and found a big jar of honey and a lemon. When she opened the cabinet to find another mug, she noticed a large gift box. “Oh, wait. Is this it?” She started to pull it down when he stepped in front of her, his bare, warm chest brushing over her arm.

She stopped what she was doing, curious to see if she felt a spark…but she felt nothing. Not even a single goosebump.

Weird.

“That’s not tea.” He tried to push the box back, but it tipped, and she caught a glimpse of photographs.

“Did you take those?”

He didn’t answer, and for the first time, he looked uncomfortable.

Why would he be embarrassed to have an outlet like that? The water started to boil, so she poured honey into the mug. “I didn’t think you’d have much downtime during a tour.”

“We don’t.” His tone had her casting him a glance over her shoulder. He seemed…down?

And then she remembered the fabulous wildlife photographs on his walls at home. “I think it’s cool that you have so many artistic outlets. Have you ever shown your work?”

“Nope.” He closed the box and shut the cabinet.

“So, it’s just fun for you. I have a friend who’s a full-time writer, and she knits. I’m talking miles of scarves she never wears. But she says it gets her mind off the story, and that’s when the magic happens, when she’s not thinking. Same for you?”

He bristled with unease. “Yeah. Sure.”

Quit talking about it. It’s none of your business. “Maybe when you retire, you can show in galleries.”

“Why would I retire?” He tried to keep his persona in place, but she could hear just a tinge of bitterness in his voice. “I’m living the dream.” His flat tone suggested otherwise.

The thing is…he’s not walking away. He’s not changing the subject.

Did he want to talk about it? Maybe he needed an outsider to just listen. “Okay, so when you do finally retire, what will you do?”

“Not a damn thing.” He chuckled without much joy.

“Oh, God, I’m so not like that. I’m always doing something.”

“Me, too.” He gave a suggestive shrug of his eyebrows, but his attempt to play the role of debauched rocker wasn’t working.

“My mom used to say that everyone needs to find her good work. I haven’t found mine.” Poetry didn’t count. “But I’ll die trying.”

“What was her good work?”

Pain blew through her like a gust of cold wind. You’d think after twelve years, I’d be over her loss. “Me.”

“She was a stay-at-home mom?”

Della nodded. “And a damn good one.” She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “I miss her every day.” She thought back to his first album. “In fact, it’s your lyrics—” Right then, it struck her. “Oh, my God, don’t tell me the cover of Bucket of Blue is your art?”

Color seeped into his cheeks.

“I had no idea.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I actually framed it and hung it on my wall. That’s how much I liked it. Why didn’t you give yourself credit? I thought it was done by a famous photographer, so I looked everywhere for a name but couldn’t find anything.”

“You framed it?”

“I totally did. It wasn’t just beautiful. It stirred up so many feelings. Van, you have a gift.” The water came to a boil, and she turned back to the counter to pour it. Slicing the lemon she said, “Is that what you do when you’re not touring? Take pictures?”

“Sure, but it’s hard to take it seriously. If we’re not touring, we’re in the studio. It’s not easy to be a rock star.”

That was the most genuine thing he’d said so far. “But you love it? Rock and roll?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She handed him his mug. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that, right?”

“I can’t remember the last time anyone bothered to ask me what I want.” He hunched a shoulder, giving her a shy grin. “But there’s a lot more at stake than what I like. A lot of people make their livelihoods from Van Claybourne.”

“This is one of those moments where I should drop something really profound to make you see the light, but I’m not a motivational speaker. I’m a girl from a small town in Arizona who fights to survive like everyone else on the planet, but there’s one thing I know for sure. My mom died when I was fourteen—”

His features tightened in surprise and compassion.

“She was a singer and had big plans to move to New York and be a Broadway star, but she got pregnant really young and decided the price of achieving her dreams would be too high for her family. She chose to be the best mom and wife she could be and then, once I went to college, she’d go back to singing.” Della pressed a hand to her aching heart. “She died two years before I graduated high school.”

“I’ll bet she didn’t have a single regret. I’ll bet she loved being your mom.”

The grief she’d thought she’d gotten over bubbled up from a deep, hidden well, and she couldn’t do much but blink back tears. “That was a nice try, buddy, but we’re talking about you.”

He grinned.

“Look, I’m not telling you to quit the band and run off to Tahiti to become a reclusive artist who cuts off his ear.”

“I think you might be mixing up artists. And I’m a photographer, not a painter.”

Smiling, she ignored him. “I’m just saying we’ve got one shot at this life. If we’re not pursuing our passions, if we’re not living our authentic lives, then I don’t know the point. And all those people who depend on the paycheck? They’ll get other jobs. Just like everybody else who loses a job. It happens every day. Plants close down, and restaurants go bankrupt. They’ll recover.”

He held her gaze, and she was positive she saw the real man for the first time. He looked vulnerable, scared, and confused. But she only caught a glimpse before the window slammed shut, and he slipped right back into his rock star persona. “Thanks for the tea…and the food for thought.” He raised his mug before sauntering back to the master bedroom.

She stood there, basking in the cloud of pheromones he’d left behind, the view of those back muscles, the broad shoulders, and the glossy hair that looked so sexily messy…

And felt nothing.

She didn’t know how it was possible, but she wasn’t attracted to Van Claybourne.

What a bummer.

Della stood at the counter, finishing her coffee and looking over the day’s to-do list to see what could be done digitally and what required her to be out and about. Somewhere between radio station visits, interviews, and soundcheck, she had to find a store that sold Throat Cure Tea. Unless…did delivery services come to buses? She didn’t see why not.

“You’re not dressed?” Van asked.

She whipped around, surprised to see him so quickly after he’d retreated to his room. He stood before her in jeans, a white T-shirt, and black Converse, his hair damp from a shower. She’d assumed there was only one bathroom on the bus, but apparently the master bedrooms had their own.

“No?” You just saw me ten minutes ago.

“Martin told me he sent you the calendar this morning.” He tipped his wrist to read the big, expensive watch wrapped around it. “We need to go. I’ve found an herbalist who’s got something she swears is even better than Throat Cure Tea.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Van Claybourne?” she teased. How had the lazy-eyed rock star turned into this sharp, powerful man-with-a-plan? “I don’t know what I put in that tea, but I should make myself a cup.” She quickly dumped out the rest of her coffee and set her mug in the sink. “Okay. Let me grab a shower, and I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

He tipped his head with a look of disbelief.

“I know. Hard to believe I can transform from this”—her hand swept the length of her pajama-clad body—“into the woman you met last night in a matter of minutes. But honestly, I was just born this way.” She breezed past him, a little worried that he was acting like a stranger. Either he was pissed at her for being nosy, or she’d somehow shamed him about not pursuing his art. She hadn’t meant to imply he was doing anything wrong.

It was just…if her mom’s death had taught her anything, it was to live every moment to its fullest. She’d have to apologize. She wasn’t trying to change him.

God, why did she have such a big mouth?

If she wasn’t careful, she might just get herself fired.

CHAPTER THREE

When she reappeared eleven minutes later, his eyes went wide. She had on her tight jeans, a belt that highlighted her slim waist and accentuated her boobs, a pair of sky-high heels, and her signature bright red lipstick. She probably looked like a rock star’s dream PA. “Ready.”

He gestured for her to head off the bus where a huge black SUV waited for them. When he held the door open for her, she could have sworn she saw him lean in a little and…sniff? Which made her smile. She did smell good.

He slid into the backseat beside her.

“You like?” she asked.

He cut her a look. “Excuse me?”

“You sniffed me.”

“Oh.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “Busted. Sorry, but you smell like the shampoo from the Wild Wolff Village.”

She laughed. “That’s because I just finished working there and stuffed my suitcase with as many toiletries as I could fit. Actually, I cleaned your house.”

“Yes, we figured that out. Martin thought you looked familiar.”

“What do you mean?”

His muscular biceps bulged as he reached for his seatbelt. “He heard you mention the resort, and he put two-and-two together.”

“I’m not following.”

“He has to check out anyone who comes into my house, which means he’s the one who vetted you.”

“Vetted…as in investigated? Don’t you need my approval to do that?”

“You gave your approval when you applied for the job.”

True.

“Your photo’s attached to your employee file, and let’s just say you’ve got a distinctive look. He remembered you.”

“Well, that explains why he hired someone he met in a gas station parking lot.” She’d wondered about that.

Once buckled in, he picked up his phone and got busy responding to text messages and emails.

He didn’t seem angry with her at all. Just…disinterested.

I must’ve read him all wrong.

Apparently, the man had many sides to him. The rocker, the businessman, and the sensitive artist. Right now, he was in work-mode. Fine with me.

In any event, sitting beside Van Claybourne turned out to be very different than she’d imagined. He wasn’t anything like the fantasy she’d built in her head. The real flesh and blood man was complex and a little intimidating.

As they sat in companionable silence, her gaze wandered to his tattooed arms. In articles she’d read about him, he’d mentioned what ink meant to him, how each piece told a story. It had inspired the work she’d gotten on her own body, but what she saw on his arms didn’t seem to match what she’d seen in the countless photos of him on the internet.

Of course, they’d been blurry shots taken from a distance or partially covered by clothing or women’s bodies. But that one on his inner forearm? She was sure she’d never seen it before.

She was so absorbed in it, she found herself leaning across him and reaching out to stroke it.

He jerked but relaxed when he saw what she was looking at.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” Had he felt that weird electrical impulse when she’d touched him? “I just…I’ve never seen this one before. Timshel? Is that someone’s name?”

“It’s from Steinbeck’s East of Eden. It means thou mayest.”

She was too close to him, someone she’d just met, and he certainly didn’t have the advantage of having fantasized about her for ten years, so she sat back in her seat. “What does it mean to you?” But God, the man smelled good. Clean clothes, fresh mountain air, and something woodsy with a hint of campfire.

He gave the slightest grin. “It means we always have a choice.”

Of course, she immediately thought of his photography. She wanted to say, See? You do have a choice. “I like that.” Now, this is the man who lives in Wild Wolff Village, with his stacks of books and pictures of his dogs. A slow spin of excitement started swirling in her chest. Her fingertip slowly skimmed up his arm to the paper airplane tattoo. “And this one?”

He shivered, giving her a curious look. “I’m a homebody. I don’t like travel. So, when I look at this, it reminds me that, since it’s part of the job, I should have fun with it.”

“Oh, that’s really good.” Her gaze flicked up to him, and the connection zapped her heart. He looked at her so intently, like he was trying to see beneath the surface, to figure out who she really was. And, boy, did she want him to know. “I like it a lot.” She wondered what compelled him to pursue a career that didn’t fit. The music, the lyrics…that was all him. But the lifestyle seemed to take too great a toll. “Can I see this one?” She gestured to the back of his neck.

“Sure.”

Sifting through his silky hair, she caressed the ink at the back of his neck.

Goosebumps sprung out on his arms, and he shifted away.

“I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Well, sure. A little. I just met you.”

Says the guy who had two women climbing him like a jungle gym last night.

But they were invited into his pleasure palace. I work for him. Big difference. “Can you tell me what it is?”

He relaxed and lifted his hair. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I was just surprised. Go ahead.”

She traced the skyline. “Is it New York?”

“It’s Vegas. It’s where we’re from.”

See? He said it’s where we’re from. Family means everything to him.

Happiness burbled inside her like the water in the electric kettle. She couldn’t believe it. I get to see the real Van Claybourne. She doubted many people ever did. “I didn’t know that. It’s not in your bio.”

He shifted back around, all that openness shuttering. “Well, we moved around a lot, but that’s where we were living when we were discovered.” Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about his past.

Which only elevated it to the number one thing she wanted to talk about.

But she couldn’t, so she pulled out her phone and scrolled through the list. “Other than tea, is there anything else we need to pick up?”

“Just a few groceries.”

“I guess I’ve never given it much thought, but I assumed the venues fed you, and you stopped for fast food on the highway.”

“We learned early on what works and what doesn’t. Tours are grueling, and we need to feel our best if we’re going to enjoy them. Besides, I prefer to cook.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

He cut her a look. What does that mean?

“I cleaned your kitchen.”

“Right. Of course.” He went back to his phone, noticeably uncomfortable.

He either thinks I’m some kind of stalker, or he’s embarrassed about what I might have seen in his house.

Newsflash: I was totally impressed with everything I saw.

But in case he thought she was creeping on him, she said, “You know I was literally on the shuttle going home when I saw Scat fussing with the rearview mirror, right? I figured it was a tour bus, but there’s no way I could have known whose it was.”

He visibly loosened up. “I know.”

But really, if they were going to work together, she might as well get it all out in the open. It would be much worse if he found out later. “That’s not to say I wasn’t stalking you before I got the job.”

His eyebrows hitched up into his hairline.

“Like every fan ever, I thought your music was brilliant. It spoke to me. I used to think…” Don’t say it, or he’ll really think you’re nuts.

“You used to think what?”

“That your ‘lyrics were cribbed from my soul.’” Her neck went hot. “Yes, I actually wrote those words in my journal. I know, I know. You probably hear stuff like that every day, but it’s real for me. You know your line, Darkness invades, an army of fear, and I can’t, I can’t, I can’t do this?”

He nodded warily.

Like he was waiting for her to smear on the clown make-up.

“That song came out on the first anniversary of my mom’s death. Literally, it dropped the same day. I was getting ready for school, and I didn’t think I could do it. You know, pretend to be okay, get dressed, and straighten my hair like I was normal, just like everyone else at school.”

He set his big, warm hand on top of hers and squeezed. “I’m sorry you lost your mom.”

She’d already told him about it, but he treated the news with the same respect as the first time. And really, she’d have been fine if he hadn’t been so damn sweet about it. But because he had, she blinked back the sting of tears. “Thanks. Anyhow, I had the radio on, and the DJ said he had a surprise, a single from Van Claybourne’s debut album. I had no idea who you were, but I was putting on makeup, forcing myself to go through the motions, when I heard the lyrics and just started crying. Literally, mascara streaking down my face. I sat on the floor, and your song wrapped around me like my mom’s arms. And I cried so hard I could hardly breathe.”

“I hope someone was there for you.”

He hoped someone…what? That’s his response? “What an incredibly sweet thing to say. And, man, did you ever nail it. Because a loss like that is so personal, so shattering, you feel completely isolated in it. Unless you’ve lost a parent, you can’t get it.”

“What about your dad? How did he handle her loss?”

She was starting to suspect he’d lost someone important, too, because he was really nailing the questions. “My dad’s the best, but he adored my mom, and I just don’t think he’s caught his groove since she died. He threw himself into work and taking care of me, the house, the car…he just hasn’t stopped doing stuff. So, yeah, I was alone in my grief. But I was okay because your lyrics gave me exactly what I needed. It helped just knowing someone else felt the same way. And the thing is, your songs always end in happiness. That’s what I can count on with Van Claybourne. You go deep, you get very real, but your characters always find a way to triumph, and people need that. I needed that.”

“Did you go to school that day?”

“Hell, no. I spent the day listening to music, singing at the top of my lungs, eating junk food, watching TV, and doing my nails.”

He grinned. “My mom used to call those mental health days. She gave us one every school year.”

“That’s really nice. I like that. What did you do on your mental health days?”

There it was again, that shuttering. He looked back at his phone, but she could tell he wasn’t reading the screen. And then he seemed to make a decision because his gaze swung back to her. “We only had two of them before the band got some traction, and then mental health days were forgotten.”

“Why do I think you understand what it’s like to lose someone important?”

He sighed, looking tired all of a sudden. “I’m going to remind you about that NDA.”

“I know I seem like a big mouth, but I’m a vault when you need me to be. And yes, I remember the super scary contract I signed.”

He watched her for a moment, a parade of emotions crossing his features. His soulful amber eyes seemed to take her measure, and this crazy energy went zinging between them.

The good kind.

The sexy kind.

It was potent, and she marveled at how quickly things had changed from having zero attraction to him on the bus to this moment when desire flared to life.

And just like that, the rock star she’d fantasized about drifted away in a puff of smoke. Because sitting here beside this man, he’d become a real flesh and bones person. A complicated man with a real past.

A man she very much wanted to get closer to. She wanted to hold his hand, caress his thigh, and feel his strength and heat.

He nodded, as though concluding he could trust her. “My dad died when I was nine.”

She was about to blurt out, That’s not on your bio, either. But she kept her mouth shut, giving him space to talk.

“There’s a before.” He made a slicing motion. “And an after. Before, we were the all-American family. My mom homeschooled us, and we all sat down for dinner together every night. Vacations were camping trips to National Parks. On our birthdays, we got to go to Blueberry Hill diner for breakfast and order anything we wanted.” He smiled. “Every year, I knew exactly what I was getting. I rotated my favorites, so if I ordered French toast one year, it’d be pancakes next time, and the country breakfast the year after that.”

“Same. Only for me, it was the state fair. If I got funnel cake one year, I knew I was getting the Cheeto turkey drumstick next time, and I’d have the Churro sundae the year after that.”

He grinned, and she felt a pop in her chest. Happiness rained over her like confetti. She’d seen him having sexy times, she’d seen him in business mode…she’d even caught a glimpse of vulnerability.

But his smile is what makes him a star.

Like the sun, it pulled her into his orbit.

And she never wanted to leave.

“Yep. It was the ritual, you know? This thing I could count on. Me slathering so much syrup, my dad would say, Do you want pancakes with your syrup? Every single time.” Seemingly lost in the memories, his expression radiated affection.

And she wished she could drop in there with him, sit beside the happy boy and his whole, complete family. She’d have had such a crush on that boy.

And she could’ve been there for him when he’d lost his dad.

But the smile flattened. “And then there was the after. He was young, only thirty-six, and healthy, so he didn’t have life insurance. His company gave my mom some money, but it didn’t last long. She got a job, but it didn’t pay the bills, so she had to get a second and then a third one.” He waved a hand, like he didn’t know why he was telling her this. Like none of his story had any relevance to his life today.

But she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted more. “How many kids?”

“Four.”

Another oddity. His bio only mentions three Van Claybourne siblings.

“My mom sold the house, and we moved into a two-bedroom apartment. And I watched her go from overwhelmed to defeated in under a year, so we all had to step up and take care of each other. Make sure we got food on the table. Make sure everyone was on time for school.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re using the royal we? Do you mean you got food on the table?”

“It was a joint effort.” But he looked away, so she suspected he was lying. “And we did our best, but there wasn’t time or money for birthday breakfasts at the diner or football uniforms or dance classes. We were in survival mode.”

She squeezed his biceps. “You’d have been a hot quarterback.”

He chuckled. “This is one of those awkward moments where you want the pretty girl to think you’re a stud, but you have to admit that you didn’t like the idea of running away from three-hundred-pound men who wanted to hurt you. Sorry, but football was never in the cards for me.”

“Well, sure. Why get tackled by sweaty, hairy guys when you can topple pretty, sweet-smelling girls?”

“I feel so seen right now.”

A joke! Van Claybourne was playing with her.

And beneath that outer layer of confidence, that charisma, was a shy little-boy vulnerability that made him irresistible. He was no longer her long-time celebrity crush. He was someone she could relate to.

Someone she wanted to kiss.

“Anyhow, we kept getting evicted, and it sucked for everyone, and we just wanted to come up with a way to help my mom make ends meet. So, we got the bright idea to start singing on Freemont. It’s the heart of downtown Vegas, where all the street performers hang out.”

“I’ve never been there.”

“Yeah, so, it worked. We made good money. And someone noticed us, and there you go. We became Van Claybourne.”

“And I’m going to bet the first thing you did with your money was buy your mom a house.”

“A condo, actually. At the time, she didn’t want a house. She wanted all the amenities like a gym, a pool, and a concierge.”

“I’ll bet you made sure no one in your family went without ever again.” She smoothed a hand over his forearm. “You’re a good man.” She wanted to crack him open and see inside, pick through all the memories until she got to know every single thing about him.

But this was a job.

He wasn’t her friend. He was her boss.

And she had to remember that.

He tapped her wrist. “Hey, what’re you thinking?”

“Oh, man, I mean…I want to know if you ever think about your dad and if you would’ve wound up doing something different if you hadn’t needed the money when you were a kid, but I don’t want to be too nosy.” She grinned like she was joking even though he had to know she meant it. “I know, I know. I’m your assistant. I’m supposed to make the tea and handle travel arrangements.”

He was quiet, and she figured she’d lose him to his phone again. But after a long moment, he said, “I think about my dad all the time. Every time my mom takes a vacation by herself, every time my sister dates another older guy…” He glanced out the window. “Every time I hit a wall and need advice.”

A surge of affection crashed through her so hard her skin tingled. “I know exactly how you feel.” She reached for his hand. And when his palm opened to lace his fingers with hers, warmth bloomed inside her chest.

But he looked at their joined hands and quickly released her, his features wiped clean of emotion.

Stung, embarrassed, she started talking, hoping words would cover the faux pas. “I love my dad, but my mom was all about me. My dad’s dedicated to his clients at the autobody shop, his staff, and me, but I was the spoiled little shit who got to be number one on someone’s agenda for fourteen years. And that’ll never happen again, you know? Sure, I’ll fall in love, and it’ll be great. But I’ll never matter most because everyone has a career, parents, siblings…a life. No one loves you like a mom.”

“I think one day you’ll have a kid, and you’ll get what you need through that.”

He did it again, made her feel like she hadn’t overstepped. A simple comment, the kind tone, put them back on the same page.

And she loved it. She felt so safe talking to him, like maybe she didn’t have to monitor everything she said and did. “See, I knew there was a reason I had crush on you.”

After they finished their errands, it was time to get him to his first appointment, but when the car took the wrong exit off the freeway, Della twisted around to see what was going on. “Isn’t this the way back to the bus?”

Van glanced out the window. As the stadium came into sight, he said, “Yep.”

Quickly, Della pulled up the calendar. “I don’t think we have time.” He had two radio station gigs, a luncheon with his label’s regional sales and marketing team, and a series of interviews in the penthouse of the fanciest hotel in town.

He eyed her curiously, but his phone rang, and he answered. “Hey, man. How you feeling?” As he listened, he broke into a true smile. “Oh, I know all about what restores you. Just turning into the parking lot now. You ready to roll?” Whatever the man was saying made Van laugh. “Don’t waste your voice mouthing off to me. Okay, we’re here.” He disconnected.

As they climbed the stairs of the bus, Della was confused. “Did you need to change clothes or something?”

“Why would I need to change?”

She led the way, Van coming up the stairs behind her. “For the luncheon? It’s at a fancy restaurant.”

Wait a damn minute. Van stood in the lounge. In front of her.

“I thought I was doing the luncheon?” he asked.

Della swung around. There are two Van Claybournes? “What the hell—”

Her Van—the sexy man she’d bonded with in the SUV—pushed past her. “Let me just make your tea.”

“Cool.” The other Van dropped onto the couch, stretching out his legs.

They were going about their business as if it were completely normal to have two identical rock stars. Della wagged a finger between them. “What’s going on?”

Casual as ever, filling the kettle with water, Sexy Van said, “What? Oh, we’re twins. You didn’t know that?”

CHAPTER FOUR

“Since when do you have a twin?” She looked between the two men. “I’ve read everything there is to know about you. You’re from LA, you have two siblings, and you got discovered in a talent contest.”

It had all been lies.

“I’d assumed Martin filled you in,” Sexy Van said.

“I met him for five minutes before he left for the airport. His assistant emailed me the contracts, the calendar, and the to-do list this morning. Nobody told me anything.” Slowly, pieces fluttered into place. “This is why only two of you travel on the bus. Do the roadies even know?”

“Everyone who works for us knows and has signed an NDA.” Sexy Van watched her carefully. “It’s airtight.”

“Oh, my God, I’m not going to run out and sell this story to the media. I’m just trying to wrap my head around it.”

The other Van gestured toward the kettle. “It’s boiling, and I gotta jam.”

Sexy Van stuffed some of the new herbs into an infuser, dropped it into a travel mug, and handed it over.

The other Van didn’t take it.

“What’s wrong?” his brother asked.

The other Van looked a little embarrassed. “Can you put some honey in it? And lemon? I like how she made it this morning.”

“I put some ginger in it, too.” She nudged Sexy Van aside and doctored the herbal brew. “Here. Do you know where you’re going?”

The other Van gave her a lazy grin. “Look at you, just rolling with it. I like that.”

She wasn’t going to lie. She reveled in his approval. Like a pig in mud, she rolled around in it.

“The driver’s got the schedule.” Sexy Van wrapped his arms around his brother and whispered in his ear.

The other Van nodded, gave a sweet smile—as though he liked how his brother took care of him—and then left the bus.

It was honestly the sweetest, purest thing she’d ever seen.

Is it too soon to say I love these guys?

She was dying to call Micky and tell her everything. But, of course, she couldn’t. Instead, she said, “This is insane. How in the world have you pulled this off for ten years? And why have you done it?”

“It works for us.” Sexy Van got busy cleaning up the spilled herbs, putting their groceries away, and wiping down the counter.

“Is this how you sustain a long career, by taking turns being the lead singer?” Because that would be oddly clever.

“Nope. He’s the talent.”

The curtness in his tone had her watching him more carefully. “And you’re what? The businessman?”

He gave her a long, thoughtful look, and then nodded. “Something like that.”

She really should stop pushing him to answer questions that made him uncomfortable, but it was just so shocking. Twins?

Everything she thought she’d known about him was wrong. And it debunked her fantasy of being soulmates with the man behind the lyrics—considering she felt zero attraction for the artist who wrote them.

And all the yummy feelings for his brother, the businessman behind the scenes.

That’s fine. The whole idea was silly and childish anyway. How many people were convinced they’d be besties with Taylor Swift? Her mom had once said, Oh, Meryl Streep and I would be the best of friends. I just know it.

“So, I can’t call both of you Van. What’s your name?”

Since he faced the counter, she couldn’t see his expression. And she really wished she could because his back muscles flinched. “I’m Bex.”

“Bex Claybourne?”

He blew out a breath. “I really wish Martin had filled you in. No, Van Claybourne is just the band name. Just call my brother Van and me Bex, okay?”

“Wow, this is all so crazy.” And then it struck her. I’m with the wrong brother. “Crap. Aren’t I supposed to spend the day with Van?” I’m so confused.

“No.” His tone seemed impatient. “The driver’s got Van’s schedule and will get him where he needs to go. You’re with me.”

The moment she’d had her first break of the very busy day, Della kicked off her heels and climbed into her bunk to call Micky. “I always imagined rock stars with hangovers, sleeping in and playing video games, but Van spent the day in back-to-back interviews, while their manager”—uh, Bex, his twin brother—“handled all the business stuff like merchandise issues, overnighting contracts, and running errands.” She hated lying to her best friend, but what could she do? She’d try to keep it as close to the truth as possible.

“Are you loving it?”

“You know, I am. I like to be busy, and I like to fix things, and since there are so many moving parts for a huge band like this, there’s always one wheel or another falling off, so yeah, it’s a really good gig.” She was dying to spill the beans.

Van’s a twin!

Can you believe it? And I’m not even slightly attracted to him.

But his brother…Lordy, I can’t seem to get close enough. I love his voice, his hands, and the way he handles everything so calmly and deftly.

She’d learned that when Van was out and about, Bex stayed on the bus. They never took the risk of being discovered. Which meant she and Bex had spent the day working either in the lounge or at the kitchen table. The space was small, they were all alone since the driver didn’t have to be on the bus until after tonight’s show, and it just felt so intense between them. This energy, this…connection. Whew.

Boots thudded on the stairs. “Oh, he’s coming. I’ve got to go.”

“Are you going to the concert tonight?” Micky asked. “Do you get to be backstage with a laminated pass?”

Della laughed. What had once been their biggest fantasy had now become her real life. “Of course. I’m with the band.”

“I can’t believe you’re living your dream.”

“Della?” Bex called in his deep, commanding voice.

“Gotta go,” she whispered into the phone before disconnecting.

When she pushed aside the curtain and leaned out, she practically face-planted into his abs. Oh, man, did he smell good. She got a whiff of clean cotton, spicy soap, and something intensely masculine. A scent that activated the most primal, feminine response. She grinned up at him. “You rang?”

“There’s a problem with the sound system, so we need to get to soundcheck earlier than planned.”

“Wait, you’re going to the venue?”

“Yes.”

Dropping out of the bunk, she shoved her feet back into her heels. “I do not understand the division of labor here, but I’m ready to roll.” Grabbing her purse, she hurried after him. “What does Van do during soundcheck?”

“He’s at the gym.”

“No way. Your rock star twin goes to a public gym?”

“No, one of the buses has fitness equipment.” At the bottom of the stairs, he turned back to her. “Sorry to cut your break short, but this won’t take long, and then you’re done for the day.”

“Okay, so I’m not needed at the show tonight?”

“You’re welcome to go. I can get you a backstage pass.”

She couldn’t help imagining a high five with Micky. “And where will you be?”

“While he’s performing, I’ll be in the gym.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him.

“Got it. And then you’ll both be back on the bus after the show?”

“Yes, we’re driving to Vegas tonight.” Bex reached for the lever to open the bus doors and nodded for her to head down the stairs. When he hit the pavement, he said, “But since we want to keep you and Scat, Van has to do his entertaining in a hotel suite from now on. He’ll be back on the bus by one.”

He lifted his boot to tap something beneath the bumper, and the bus doors closed in a whoosh. Together, they crossed the asphalt to the waiting SUV. “What happens when you’re in one city for a couple of nights? Do you both get hotel rooms?” That wasn’t the question she really wanted to ask. But whether he partied with fans was none of her business.

“No. Homebody, remember? I don’t want to constantly pack and set up my work in new places.”

She slid across the seat. “How on earth do you keep the twin thing a secret? It makes no sense.”

“We’ve had a lot of time to work it out, and we each know our roles. I try to make it as clean and simple for him as possible.”

“Are you the older one?”

“No, he is. My mom thought she was having one baby, but twenty minutes later, I popped out.”

“Well, the way you look out for him, you sure act like the oldest. Does it ever bother you that he gets all the attention?”

“Nope.” He stretched out his long legs, his powerful thighs straining against the fabric of the worn Levis. “I like it this way.”

“I’m not so sure he does.”

“What does that mean?”

When he got all protective like that, it excited her. She’d never had a serious boyfriend—just hadn’t connected with anyone on that level—but she’d always longed for that kind of ride-or-die relationship. She wanted the kind of fierce loyalty Bex had with his brother. “No, it’s just…I saw his box of photographs, and we got to talking. It seemed like he’d rather be taking pictures than…”

Bex’s expression darkened.

Wrong thing to say. “Never mind. What do I know? I’ve been here all of three minutes.”

“No, you’re insightful. You obviously picked up on something.”

Whew. Okay. She’d thought he was pissed at her for thinking she knew his brother better than he did. “I told him how much I loved the Bucket of Blue cover, and he got a little testy. It just seemed like, underneath the whole rock star persona, there’s this guy who wants out. Who maybe wants to spend his time taking pictures.”

“It’s been a long tour, but as soon as it ends, he’ll have at least six months to relax, surf, hike, whatever he wants. He’ll get recharged.”

“Of course.” She’d drop the subject before she took it too far.

It was none of her business anyway.

Standing at the side of the stage, Della took care of a few issues with the merchandise order while at the same time handling contract changes with a lawyer.

Someone bumped into her, and she realized she was in the way, so she climbed down the stairs, leaned back against the stage, and continued texting. Behind her, a roadie plugged in an amp, making it screech, and wires slithered on the stage as technicians taped them down.

Half of her brain was tuned into Bex because he was such a hot boss man, speaking with authority and total competence. She’d never have imagined being so turned on by a businessman. Being a poet herself, she’d always been drawn to artists.

“Hey,” Bex called. “Can you cut this beam angle? It’s too harsh.”

“You got it,” the lighting technician shouted from the catwalk.

“Ready with mic one,” someone said.

Della was getting push-back from the lawyer, and Bex had told her not to give an inch, so she was texting her response when the deepest, richest, most beautiful voice in the world filled the stadium.

It was Van. Which made no sense because the twins never showed up in the same room. Pushing off the stage, she turned around to check it out.

But it was Van. Which meant they must feel safe around their roadies and crew.

He wore the usual worn jeans and white T-shirt, his shoulders so broad it pulled the fabric taut. Eyes closed, he belted out one of her favorite songs. The one she’d told him about.

No, stupid. You told Bex.

Wait a minute.

She shot a quick text to Van.

Della: You at the gym?

Van: Yeah. You need me for anything?

Della: Nope. Not a thing. But damn, your brother can sing.

Van: LOL. Yep.

Phone forgotten, she gazed up at the man on stage and just fell into the beauty of his a cappella voice. When he caught her watching, he stopped singing.

“Awesome, man,” the sound engineer said. “Let’s go to mic two.”

After they’d finished tweaking the sounds of monitors, amps, and microphones, someone called out “keyboard.” She waited to see whose hands would settle on top of the ivories. Remembering those instruments in his house at the resort, she found herself holding her breath.

Of course, it could’ve been Van’s house she’d cleaned.

But her gut knew with absolute certainty…it was Bex’s.

And she’d bet her savings he could play as well as sing.

Unsurprisingly, it was Bex who sat down at the keyboard. The next thing she knew, some gorgeous, complicated melody filled the air. With his perfect posture, the muscles in his back working beneath that T-shirt, and his hair shimmying and shaking with his exertions, he was completely in the zone.

Della had no words. She was inexplicably moved to tears by this insanely talented, deeply sensitive, and wildly charismatic man.

And all she could do was stand there watching him move from lead guitar to bass, and then to drums…

Is there anything he can’t do?

She supposed part of managing a band was understanding the technical aspects of performing, but his voice, his talent…

It was only as they crossed the parking lot back to the bus, as Bex called his brother and told him about a change he was making to the lyrics, that Della got it.

The band was Bex.

Van was the face of it, but the talent was all Bex.

If she didn’t talk to Micky about this, she was going to explode. But she couldn’t do that, so the minute they got on the bus, she said, “You’re the talent.”

He washed his hands at the sink. “Van and I are a team.”

“No, you write the songs, you do all the work…but you let your brother take all the glory. Why?”

Distracted, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a few of the containers they’d bought earlier in the day from the whole foods store. “It’s how I like it.”

“You don’t like to perform?”

“No.”

There was something guarded in his tone that made her move closer to him.

He wasn’t expecting her to be right there, so when he turned to show her the choices, his bare arm brushed over hers.

The energy between them crackled and sparked.

Whoa. She’d never felt this kind of attraction before.

The look in his eyes—it was a clash of confusion, want, and stark yearning. Shaken, he swallowed and held up the boxes. Which one?

She couldn’t have cared less about food in that moment. Her body was still pulsing with desire. “Let’s just share the big one. Should I bring something to Van?”

“No, he can’t eat before a performance. He’ll either grab something in the green room after the show or order room service.”

“Okay. What can I do to help?”

He pried off the top and stuck it in the microwave. “Just grab yourself something to drink.”

She pulled two glasses from the cabinet and a bottle of seltzer out of the fridge. “Water? Or do you want something else?”

“Hm?” He glanced over to her. “Oh. Just water, please.” He grabbed a notebook off the counter and wrote something down.

Which was an excellent reminder that he needed her to focus on the job. And, honestly, she marveled at his ability to handle every single detail of this massive production. “You’ve got a million balls in the air, and I don’t want you to forget that I’m standing right next to you. Let me take some things off your plate.”

He stopped writing to really look at her for the first time since they’d left for soundcheck. He smiled, and it transformed his features. It made him softer, less intimidating. “It would be impossible to forget you’re here. But this one’s something you can’t help with.”

“Okay.” She brought their drinks and silverware to the table.

The microwave beeped, and he transferred the steaming food to two dishes. Setting their plates down, he slid in beside her. He seemed preoccupied.

The spicy scent of the enchiladas roused her appetite. “I might not be able to physically do anything, but sometimes it helps just to talk it through. I can listen, be a sounding board.”

“It’s not something I can articulate.” He tapped the eraser-end of the pencil on the notebook. “The song’s off.”

“Maybe after the show, you and Van can work it out together. Get that twinergy going.”

“No, he…” His jaw snapped shut.

You’ve got to be kidding me. She laughed. “Is Van musical at all?”

Bex cut into an enchilada and shoveled a huge bite into his mouth, cutting off his ability to answer.

“Oh, my God. Van’s nothing more than the face, isn’t he? You’re the creative genius and the business manager.” She set her fork down. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m just a temporary employee, but boy, would I like one.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He shifted uncomfortably. “NDA, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“We started out performing as a family, but when we got signed, it was clear to the producer that I was the only one who gave a shit about music.”

“Then why the hell aren’t you performing? Why is the band not Bex Claybourne?”

“I’m not a performer.” He shrugged. “I don’t like it. My brain…it churns out words, thoughts, melodies. It understands composition and notes. But the life of a musician…”

Something was off. “But you live the life of a musician. Even if you’re in the background, you’re still on the road. You’re literally doing everything a rock star does and more. The only thing you’re not doing is standing up on that stage.” When he stuffed another forkful of food into his mouth, she laughed. “You’ve got an adorable way of telling me to mind my own business. You, my friend, are a complex man. This whole experience has blown my mind.”

“It’s unusual. I’ll admit that.”

“Okay, because you’re paying me to sit at this table with you, I’ll change the subject, but don’t think for a second I’m satisfied with your answers. So, does your mom live in LA? Where are your two younger siblings now?”

“Yeah, Mom’s in LA. We got a nice house for her with enough bedrooms for us all to come and stay. But Van and I prefer the mountains, so we’ve both got places in Calamity.”

“See, now that surprises me. He seems into the whole rock star lifestyle.” An image of two women on their knees and his lazy smile dropped into her mind.

“I’m willing to talk about me, but I’ll let Van speak for himself.”

“I love that about you. You’re so loyal, and you take good care of him. Well, your whole family, really.”

He kept his focus on his food, but his fork shifted things around, and he wasn’t eating.

She knew from her own experience that he’d never get in touch with what was brewing in his subconscious if she kept blabbering at him. So, she let him get back to his lyrics. They finished their meal in the quiet hum of the bus.

“Since you served, I’ll do clean up.” She grabbed their plates.

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now go. Work in the lounge or something.” He needed space. She’d give it to him.

But as she washed their forks, she listened to his mounting frustration. He’d catch a groove with his strumming, then abruptly stop. He’d sing a line over and over, and then curse.

It was killing her to do nothing, but what did she know about writing a song? She had nothing to offer. She headed up the stairs to get ready for bed. As she passed the lounge, she heard him singing.

Baby, you know, it’s just not our time,

Baby, you know what’s coming down the line.

I’m gonna walk out that door, I’m not coming back

And tomorrow I’ll wake up—

“Motherfucker.” Something slammed against the wall.

“Okay, that’s it.” She climbed back down the stairs and threw the door open. “You’re done. Give me that damn guitar.”

CHAPTER FIVE

When Della reached for his guitar, he resisted. “Hey.”

“What are you, six?” She tugged on the neck. “Give it to me. Go walk around the parking lot.”

“No, I have to get it right.”

“Well, you’re not going to. But I bet if you take a walk or a shower, anything other than thinking about the damn song, it’ll come to you.”

He lowered his head, and she thought he might be gearing up to tell her off. Instead, he looked up with a smile. “You’re right about that.”

“Of course I am. Now, get out of here.” She glanced around, taking in balled-up paper, empty soda cans, and the sneaker he’d obviously flung against the wall. “I’ll tidy up. Clear desk, clear mind and all that. Go.”

He set the guitar down but didn’t get up. “Well, aren’t you the little task master?”

“Yep, that’s me. Della Swanson, getting shit done since she burst out of the uterus with a pen and notebook in her fat little baby fists.”

He set his head back against the wall and smiled. “I can see that.”

“Are you going to take a walk, or do you need some more projectiles?”

“You make me sound like a temperamental artist.”

She gave him a look that said, And?

“Okay, okay. But I can’t leave the bus. Too risky during a concert.”

She sat on the edge of the couch. “Okay, what’s your happy place?”

“Just sitting here with you.”

The sentiment hit like a fire hose, nearly knocking her on her ass. He’d said it so plainly, so sincerely, that she just...swooned.

She’d only known him a day, but with his aura of command, he was just so intimidating. He was one of the richest men in the world. He knew his talent and didn’t question his abilities.

And yet he wasn’t afraid or embarrassed to pull back the curtain and expose his sensitive heart.

But she didn’t know how to respond because it wasn’t an invitation. There was nothing sexual behind it. It was just a stark admission of truth. And so, she plopped down beside him, drew her legs up, and rested her elbow on the back of the couch. “Sweet or savory?”

He cocked his head in confusion.

She made a rolling motion with her hand. Play along.

Once he got the game she was playing, he relaxed. “I have the worst sweet tooth.”

“Oh, please.” She pinched his belly but couldn’t pull even an inch of fat. “It’s like a slab of marble.” The sexiest marble she’d ever seen.

“I’m serious. Ice cream over chips any day of the week.” He tipped his chin. “Your turn.”

“Total sweet tooth. If people wouldn’t look at me funny, I’d live off Oreos, frozen yogurt, and cake. But not just any kind. I’m very particular about the cake that goes into this body.”

His gaze dipped to her cleavage, dropped to her hips, and slid down to her red-painted toenails. Color bloomed in his cheeks, and he licked his lips.

So, he was attracted to her. He was just shy.

Her defenses melted like candle wax.

But he was her boss, and today was her first day on the job. I’m not crossing that line. So, she continued the game. “Lots of friends or just a few close ones?” Although, she could already guess the answer.

“I don’t have a lot of friends.”

“That’s probably because you get everything you need from your brother.”

“Maybe, but I also don’t have time. I’m either in the studio or touring.”

“Your brother doesn’t seem to have a problem making friends.” She hitched her eyebrows in a teasing gesture.

“My brother and I might be identical in looks, but we’re built very differently.”

That’s my answer. He doesn’t screw around on the road.

He needs more.

Her skin tingled with a sense of déjà vu. She’d fantasized about conversations like this with Van Claybourne—the intimacy, the way their souls would mirror each other—but to live it? It was powerful. Shifting-plate-tectonics powerful. Flustered, she scrambled to come up with another This or That question. “TV or books?”

“Nuh uh. You have to answer, too. You seem like you’d have a lot of friends.”

“I have one best friend in the world, and a ton of acquaintances. I can hang with anybody, but I don’t feel safe with anyone but her.”

Whoa. She’d never admitted that to anyone before.

“She’s your version of my twin?”

“Pretty much. We tell each other everything.” Well, they used to. Now, Micky had a private, separate world with her fiancé, and Della had secrets because of this job.

The rift was widening.

“Hey.” His big hand settled over hers. “You got sad all of a sudden. Did you two have a falling out?”

“No. I was stupid enough to bring her to Wild Wolff Village with me.”

His concern warmed her to her bones. “How was that stupid?”

“Three weeks in, she met the love of her life, and now she’s staying there, building a house with him, and having his baby.”

He watched her for a moment, pressing his lips together. “Yep. You fucked up big time.”

She laughed, whacking his knee. “Shut up. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Oh, no. That kind of loyalty is earned. We’ll need at least another twenty-four hours for that, but I don’t really see the problem. Instead of starting your business in Arizona, why not move to Calamity and start it there?”

“Well, first, she’s the event planner for the village. But also, because I’d be a third wheel. With all she’s got going on, she really doesn’t have time for me.”

“Maybe not the way she used to, but she still needs you. She needs her friend, her ‘sister by another mister.’” He gave her a soft grin. “She probably needs you now more than ever.”

“What do you mean? She has Rhys.”

“She’s getting to know a new family, having her first kid, building a home in a new town… I can’t imagine any of that is easy.”

“She’s got something special with Rhys, though. It’s hard to explain because I’ve never had it, but he’s her person. She’s her real self with him, you know? She can be in a bad mood, she can vent to him and share her secrets, and nothing will drive him away. Have you ever had that with anyone other than Van?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but his jaw snapped shut. He took some time before answering. “No, I haven’t.” Lowering his head, he almost seemed ashamed.

“Have you ever been in love?”

He lifted his gaze to hers. “I know I should say yes, but…the truth is I haven’t.” It seemed like a revelation to him—and not a good one. “Have you?”

“No. Never. I’m an intuitive person, so I can tell pretty quickly whether I’m vibing with someone. I almost never go on a second date.”

“That surprises me.”

“Honestly, I’ve never been that girl who longed for a boyfriend, who dreamed about getting married and having kids. I assume it’ll happen one day, but until then, I want adventures.”

“What did you dream about? When you were a teenage girl writing furiously in her journal on her pink canopy bed with a desk crammed with nail polish?”

You. “You know, I want to be insulted. I want to tell you I played soccer and was a card-carrying member of Future Business Leaders of America, but I can’t. You pretty much nailed it.” I dreamt about this exact moment, hanging out with you. “I wanted a soulmate.” Her cheeks went hot. “That sounds stupid to someone who has a twin, but you asked, and that’s literally what I wanted. That one person who was mine, who connected with me on a soul-deep level.”

“Isn’t that what you had with your best friend?”

“Well, she always had a boyfriend. And she’s very close to her mom. I wanted someone who was just mine.” She forced a laugh. “Am I scaring you right now? I sound like I’m super co-dependent—”

“Don’t do that. Don’t diminish the things that matter to you.”

Oh, my God, this man. She wanted to move closer, to lay her head against his chest, and feel his arms around her. “You’re right. Well, that’s what I dreamed about. Having that intense connection to one person, feeling like…I’m not alone in the world.”

“So, instead of a wedding, you dreamed of walking through life with a soulmate. I get that.”

“Because of Van?”

“I…don’t know how to answer that. Until this conversation, I’m not sure I understood how little he and I have talked over the last few years. I think I’m so busy running this production, that I lost sight of my brother.” He lowered his gaze to the couch. “I think I’ve lost sight of a lot of things.” He gave a soft smile. “Okay, other than finding your soulmate, what did you want to do with your life?”

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Oh, no, I can’t make a promise like that. I’m a very honest person.” He nudged her knee. “Come on. Be brave.”

“Fine. I write poetry.” She watched his reaction.

“Poetry? Now, that I didn’t expect.”

“Yep. I was an English Lit major at Arizona State with a focus on poetry. And if you look in my closet, you’ll find boxes stuffed with my poetry notebooks.”

“Well, that explains your love of adventure. You can’t really write if you don’t sink into experiences and emotions. I mean, you have to bite into an apple in order to describe it, right? You have to have a broken heart in order to write about one.”

“Well, there you go.” She hoped she sounded as cheeky as she’d intended. “That’s why my poetry sucks. I’ve never had a broken heart.”

“Of course, you have. Your mom died.” He shook his head. “I can’t think of a worse break than that.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I don’t think I ever thought about it like that.” Awareness crackled inside her. “You know, I keep telling myself I’m a third wheel with Micky and her fiancé, that that’s the reason I’m going home, but the truth is they never made me feel like that. It’s not like he’s all over her when the three of us are together.”

“Thank God for that.” He shuddered. “And frankly, if a guy ever slavers all over you, that’s your cue to run.”

She laughed. “As if my standards weren’t high enough, now I have to add one more thing to the list?”

“Hm, we might want to review your list.”

“Man, I didn’t realize it until just now, but if I’m totally honest with myself, I’m jealous of their relationship. Their passion. He loves her deeply, and I want that. I want to be loved like that. I want to love someone like that. But…”

He nodded. “Your mom died, and now you can’t trust love.”

She wasn’t quite making the connection. “A mother and a boyfriend…those are two different kinds of love.”

“Love requires trust, but if someone as essential as your mom can be taken from you, how can you ever trust it again? Especially with someone who doesn’t have any real ties to you? Your mom has to be with you. Everyone else can come and go.”

The idea splashed against her skin, and it felt good, warm, true. So, she let herself sink into it. It didn’t take long until she was swimming in the truth. And God, it was a whopper.

“What’re you thinking right now?” he asked.

“Just that…I knew I wanted the kind of love Micky has, but I didn’t know how much it terrifies me. But as soon as you said it, I could feel my fear.”

“Of?”

“Of getting the kind of love, the kind of intimacy, I crave, only for it to be snatched away. I don’t ever want to feel a loss as big as my mom’s death ever again.” She gave him a look of utter marvel. “This is why your lyrics are so amazing. You’re so in touch with the truth. And why my poetry sucks. Because I don’t get to the heart of it the way you do. And that’s why you can love even though you lost your dad.”

He went quiet. “I’m not so sure I can. I might’ve confused affection with love.” His gaze connected with hers, and she felt the sizzle down to her toes. “But I had nothing to compare it to, so I didn’t know.”

What are you saying? Are you feeling this, too? It’s not just one-sided?

And if so, what do we do about it?

She had to stop thinking like this. She’d known him a day.

And he’s your boss.

She forced herself back into the conversation. “I know most of your lyrics by heart, and it sure feels like you know that kind of love. You have a way of nailing it. You take this idea, this feeling, that the rest of us can’t quite articulate, and you put it into words.”

“Maybe, but it’s not because I’m in touch with my feelings. I don’t know how to explain it, but the words just come. It’s not conscious. It’s always been like that for me.” He chuckled. “And it’s always when I try to find them that they don’t come. Like tonight.”

“For me, that happens either because it’s not genuine—I’m forcing a sentiment that isn’t true—or it’s so scary and real that I’m not ready to see it.”

“In this case, I think it’s because it isn’t genuine.” He tipped his head back and scrubbed his face with both hands. “And I have you to thank for that.” He didn’t sound happy.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’ve blown into my life and forced me to look at things I’ve neglected for a long time.” He lowered his hands, looking concerned, as if she might be offended. “And I mean that in the best way.”

“Yeah, me, too.” She didn’t think she’d ever felt closer to another person in her life.

And, oh, the way he looked at her. His features soft, the yearning in his eyes...she felt the answering pull in her soul.

What if she acted on it? What if he only held back because he was her boss? Maybe other assistants had sued them—used Van Claybourne as their payday?

Then, it means you can’t have him. Because he won’t take the risk.

Oh, my God. Would you stop? He needs a friend right now. Not a tumble.

“Well, maybe scrap the lyrics for now.” She tried to sound professional, but her feelings were all tangled up, and her voice came out raspy. “Wait until you figure out what you really want to say.”

“And what if what I want to say is not what I should be feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” He sat forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re right. I’ll scrap it for now.” He got up. “I don’t know what to do about Van.” He scrubbed his jaw. “That intuition you were talking about? I think you’re right.”

“You mean about him not being happy?” She got up, too, but didn’t approach him. He seemed lost in troubled thoughts.

“I try to keep it as easy for him as possible.”

“You do. You so clearly do. But maybe he doesn’t want to do it anymore.”

“He never wanted to do it.”

She went still.

“Fuck.” The word blew out on a rush of angry air. “I can’t do this.” He strode out of the lounge.

Had she been dismissed? Did she wait here or go up to her bunk?

She had no idea. Tension bound her to the couch.

I pushed too far.

Bottles rattled, the refrigerator door slammed shut, and then there was silence.

And he didn’t come back.

Well, that’s my answer.

He doesn’t want to talk anymore.

She got up and, just as she reached the door, his muscular body filled the doorway.

Leaning against it, a beer in one hand, he said, “There’s just something about you, Della. You dig deep, and dammit if I don’t want you to.” He looked at her like he had so much more to say—but with the language of his mouth and his hands. His gaze burned a trail from her lips to her cleavage, incinerating her clothes and making her heart thunder.

He’s so fucking hot. That mess of tousled hair, those warm amber eyes, the hard, unforgiving jawline covered in scruff. And that ink. She wanted to trace every line and curve with her tongue.

She wanted to drop to her knees, unbutton his jeans, and suck him into her mouth.

She wanted to watch his features transform from the pleasure she gave him.

His heavy exhale jarred her out of her dirty thoughts. “I’ve never told anyone the whole truth.”

“It’s okay.” Her pulse pounded. “We can stay away from secrets.” Tell me.

Tell me everything.

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to. I’m so fucking tired of lying and hiding and…Jesus.” He gave her a look filled with determination. “I’ve been a musician since I was strong enough to pull my mom’s metal mixing bowls out of the bottom cabinet and bang on them. She’s got this picture of me when I was…I don’t know, two? Three? I’m sitting on the floor in a white T-shirt with this big, drooly grin as I use her pots as bongos.” He played air drums. “It’s not like I remember the moment, but I remember what it felt like to create melodies out of bowls, sticks, pencils…anything I could get my hands on.”

“What was it like?”

“Like I’ve got a mess of emotions in my head. I’m pissed at my brother for knocking down my blocks, jealous that my dad’s taking my sister with him to the diner and not me, scared that the first day of school’s tomorrow…but when I could bang out a tune, all the noise went away.”

“That’s exactly what poetry is to me. I get it. I know.”

He nodded, and that snap of connection between them was so powerful it shook her on a cellular level. Like plucking a chord, it made her body vibrate.

“But it was my outlet. It was personal, the way poetry is to you. But then my dad died, and we needed money. My mom was working three jobs, so Van and I took over the household chores. We fed Hannah and Chance, got them to school, took care of laundry, but it wasn’t working. So, that day I started performing on the street? It wasn’t a lark. It wasn’t for fun.”

“What happened?”

“It was one of those days where you’re standing at the check-out, and the cost of your groceries is more than you have in your wallet. And the line is long, everyone’s watching, while you’re figuring out what food you can do without. My sister was only four, and she was whining. Van was embarrassed because his teacher was behind us, watching. And so, on the walk home, when my mom saw the street performers, she told Chance to take off his hat and had me sing a cappella on the sidewalk.”

“And?”

“And we made twenty-three dollars and sixty-five cents.”

She noticed how he always said we. It was lovely, but…where did he figure into all of this? “So, how did the whole family get in on it?”

He sawed a finger over his lip, looking down at the floor. “I did it myself for a while, but they eventually joined.” He glanced toward the door of his bedroom. “My brother’s going to be back soon, so I should probably get to my room.”

“Oh, sure.” She headed out of the lounge. “Hey, I know I keep blurring the lines between work and friendship, but I’ll try to stay on the right side.” She offered an apologetic smile.

With an urgent energy, he shook his head. “Bullshit.”

Her heart thundered at his ferocious tone. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck right or left. I want you with me. On my side.”

CHAPTER SIX

“What are you saying?” Della kept her voice low, her muscles still. As if any interruption might break the crackling tension. She didn’t want to lose this moment so full of possibility, the air pulsed with it.

“I trust you.” He moved closer to her. “I like you. I like the man I am around you. And damn it all to hell, but I’m so tired of holding in the secrets. I didn’t even know the price I paid until I met you. I want to tell you the real story.”

“I want to hear it.” She perched on the arm of the couch. “And I won’t tell a soul.”

“I know.” His grin cracked the tension. “We’re not talking state secrets here. It’s just that I’ve been lying for so fucking long, and I think what started out as embarrassment has turned into shame.” His gaze flicked over to her, assessing her reaction.

“What on earth do you have to be ashamed of?”

He scrubbed his face with both hands. “Right, so I started out performing by myself. Usually, it was just a bunch of tourists watching. But one day, a kid from school walked by. I felt a little self-conscious, but I didn’t think much of it, but when I got to school the next day, I found out he’d told everyone about me.” He paused. “And not in a good way.”

She went very, very still, her heart pounding like a drum. Every protective instinct she had gathered in a big, volatile ball of energy. “What do you mean?”

“When I walked into the cafeteria, they started singing in high-pitched voices. It was the first time I’d ever been embarrassed about my music. It shook my confidence.”

“I can imagine.”

“It sucked, but I could handle it. Since we’d moved so much, I’d always kept to myself anyway. The part that was harder to deal with was when they made fun of my financial situation.”

If she didn’t think it would make him even more uncomfortable, she’d launch off this couch and throw her arms around him. Instead, she gave him her full attention.

“When I walked down the hall, they’d throw coins at me. They—”

“Those fuckers. Seriously, fuck them for making you stop something you loved.”

“I didn’t stop.” He grinned at her. “Because fuck them.”

Laughter outside the bus made him flinch. “Van’s here.”

She got up. “And he’s brought some friends.”

“Yeah. Do you want to…” He tipped his head toward his room, inviting her in.

Before she could answer, the doors whooshed open, and Scat said, “Find a seat.” He said it loud enough, she knew it was intended as a warning. “We’re hitting the road now.”

Bex pulled her into his room and locked the door. It was a tiny space that fit little more than the queen bed. The walls had cabinets, and an open door led to an airplane-size bathroom. He bunched some pillows and sat up at the head of the bed, patting the space next to him.

Once she got settled, she said, “So, you kept singing?”

“Hell, yeah. The money was too good to pass up. But when Van caught on to what was happening, he showed up to sing with me. And since he couldn’t leave Hannah and Chance alone, they joined us. My mom came, too, whenever she could, just in case someone tried to call Child Protective Services on us. We became pretty popular, got invited to events like mall openings and shit like that. And then one day, a producer came along and wanted to sign us. But the thing was…” His fingertips tapped on the blanket. “I didn’t like it. I’m not an actor, so performing wasn’t my thing. I’m not into getting the audience excited…I’m not a showman.”

“But the chicks, man. You’re supposed to do it for the chicks.” She immediately regretted her thinly veiled attempt to find out whether he screwed around on the road. After being this true with her, he deserved an equal amount of courage and transparency. “I know you’re not like Van.” She gestured to the giggling women on the other side of the door. “But…did you ever…were you ever into that kind of thing?”

But she already knew the answer. Because what she’d come to know of him, it wasn’t possible.

He needs connection, intimacy. Just like me.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, that’s not my scene. Never has been.”

“But you’re gorgeous and sexy and…I mean, look at you. Women fight for your attention. I saw it in the herbalist shop and the grocery store. I see it everywhere we go. People stop talking and stare at you. And you’re wearing a disguise, so they don’t know you’re a rock star.”

With a thoughtful expression, he smoothed the comforter. “I can appreciate a beautiful woman. I can get hard looking at a great body, but intimacy…even a kiss…it grows out of getting to know someone, feeling connected to them.” He was looking at her mouth with such intensity, her skin went hot. “So, yeah. I leave that action to my brother.”

“It’s funny you say that. I’d had a crush on Van Claybourne for years, but when I met him, I didn’t even feel even a hint of attraction.”

“Yeah? Not into my brother?” He seemed extremely interested in her answer.

“Not at all.” And the question took form right there between them.

Are you attracted to me?

If he peeled her pajama top off her shoulder, if his hand slipped under the silky fabric and held the weight of her breast in his big, warm palm, if his lips brushed hers…he would have his answer.

She could feel herself softening, opening, desire wafting off her skin like perfume. She lost her moorings and felt herself float closer to him.

But he grew uneasy and tore his gaze off her mouth. And it took everything she had not to feel rejected. Because if she gave into those emotions, the night would end, and she’d break this spell that bound them together. “Okay, so, you didn’t want to be the lead singer…what happened?”

“The offer was too good to pass up, so my brother said he’d be the face of the band. It wasn’t what he wanted, but my mom needed us to do it. It wasn’t even on the table for us to walk away from that kind of money, so we all agreed that I would run the show, and Van would be the front man.”

“Your fans would freak out if they knew there were two of you.”

Fear flared in his eyes.

“No, no. I swear, you can trust me.” She shifted onto her hip to face him. With her hand on his bicep, she said, “Thank you, Bex. For being so open and honest. I swear you can trust me.”

He cut her a look under long lashes. “I’ve never been more real with anyone.”

“And it means the world to me.”

“Yeah, I get that. Trust is important to you.”

“It’s everything.” And because he’d told her his truth, she’d tell him hers. “I’ll never know what my parents were thinking, but when they got my mom’s diagnosis, they didn’t tell me. I guess they thought she would beat the cancer. But the thing is, you know when something’s going on. Your spidey senses are flashing and beeping, but you don’t know why. And we’re talking about my parents. I trusted them implicitly. And I only found out something was wrong when the principal called me into the office to say my dad was coming to pick me up. They’d admitted her into the hospital, and she never came home. All the whispers, all the times my mom wasn’t feeling well, went to ‘visit her sister’…it finally clicked. So, anyway, that’s why I have trust issues. That’s why I need honesty.”

“You must’ve been so angry at them. They stole all those moments you might’ve had.”

“You’re exactly right. God, when I saw her in that hospital bed, I felt so betrayed. So angry. So—”

“Lost.”

She looked up at him, his face just inches from hers. Filled with understanding. “Yes. How was I supposed to live without my mom? She did everything for me. And I don’t mean make dinner or buy my clothes. I mean, she had the answers, the solutions. She gave me advice for everything. She taught me how to live, how to handle situations. If I wanted to lie to get out of plans, she’d say, ‘Is that the kind of woman you want to be? The kind who lurks in the shadows? Or would you rather live your life out loud?’ She taught me to honor my commitment and to be more thoughtful about the plans I made. Because if I didn’t want to hang out with that friend, maybe there was a reason.”

“I like your mom. But it would’ve been helpful if she hadn’t lived her cancer in the shadows.”

“Yes. Yes. I hadn’t ever thought of it that way, but man, did you nail it. She told me how to live, but she didn’t follow her own advice.”

“Well, on the other side of the coin, my mom lived her life out loud, and it was difficult for all of us. She didn’t hide her exhaustion or anger or frustration. There were many days she wanted to give up, and she let us know. I don’t know which way’s better, but I’m thinking your mom wanted to preserve your childhood as long as possible because she knew that once she died, it would end for you.”

Della collapsed against his warm, hard chest. His big hand stroked her back gently, and she’d never felt safer. “That’s exactly what she would’ve thought. And I’m thinking there’s got to be a halfway point between your mom and mine.”

His body shook with quiet laughter. “I think you’re right. And maybe because we met and talked about it, we’ll be able to get it right with our own families.”

She pulled away, just staring at him. “You’re such a good man.” Instead of being bitter about his mom making him grow up too fast, instead of being resentful that he had to take on the role of breadwinner as a teenager, he had the maturity, the clarity of thought, to be not only forgiving but optimistic.

He wiped the tears from under her eyes with a thumb.

And in that moment of silence, their gazes locked, she just knew this was it. She’d waited a lifetime to feel this connection with someone.

Her gaze caressed his features—the soulful eyes, the high cheekbones, the shadow of a beard—and a primal desire took hold of her.

Him, a voice inside her head whispered.

This man.

Her heart claimed ownership. She had to know his taste, his touch. She couldn’t wait for the first lick of his tongue to unleash her, to unlock her in a way no one else ever had.

He pressed the flat of his hand on her shoulder, his entire being turning cold and impersonal. And he pushed her away. “You should go. We wake up in Vegas, and Van’s got a busy schedule.”

Mortification burned her skin. “Of course.” She scrambled off the bed and walked out of the room as if her limbs had been screwed into the wrong joints.

Panic had her racing, her clammy palm barely able to grip the banister to propel her up the stairs. She’d never been more embarrassed in her life.

She could only hope he didn’t fire her.

Throwing aside the curtain, she hurled herself onto her bunk. She covered her face with the pillow and let out a silent scream. Oh, my God.

How had she gotten it so wrong?

“Obviously, I wasn’t there,” Micky said. “But no way you imagined that kind of attraction. I think he remembered you worked for him and needed to stop it before it got too far.”

“In which case, he would’ve said Hey, you work for me. Let’s stop things before they get too far.” Della had her feet propped against the wall. Her bunk was dark and tiny, but the bedding was top notch. “I don’t even know if I’ll have a job this morning.” She would never forget that hand on her shoulder, ripping her out of a wholly magical moment where she’d felt more connected to him than she’d ever felt to anyone else. “God, I’m an idiot. I’m his employee, and I’m blubbering about my mommy.” And forcing him to confess his secrets.

Who the hell do I think I am, coercing him into being “real” with me?

He doesn’t have to be anything but my boss.

“Nope. Not letting you spiral with this one. He’s not going to fire you because nothing happened. If you’d kissed him, if you’d pulled out a strap-on and started nudging his butthole, then yeah, I’d agree you might be out of a job.”

Della laughed out loud. “Oh, my God. I love you so much.”

“Everything’s fine. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get up and shower, put on your Red-Carpet Red lipstick and high heels, and go into Della’s here, baby mode. You’re the best at what you do, and I guarantee he’s not going to fire you over something that didn’t happen. So, just get back out there like you’ve got a clean slate.”

“I wasn’t going to call you because I know you have to get Addi ready for school, but I’m so glad I did.” She hated to interrupt the special family time of Micky being the mother her stepdaughter had never had.

“Okay, this has to stop. You think my pregnancy and move to Calamity’s going to hurt our friendship, but it’s not true. The only thing that will change us is you. You’re the one who’s put up the barrier. I’m here, Dell. Any time of day or night, I’m right here where I’ve always been. Is my life more complicated? Sure, I’m twenty-six. That was bound to happen. But family always comes first and, girl, you’re my family. So, stop making it weird, stop coming up with reasons not to lean on me, and just fucking get over the fact that my life has changed but our friendship hasn’t.”

Whoa. “I have to change my clothes because you just dumped a bucket of cold water on me.” She blew out a breath. “I needed that. You’re absolutely right.” And after the conversation with Bex, she knew she was cutting off the friendship before Micky had a chance to hurt her.

Energy flowing in, she dropped out of the bunk and reached for her toiletry bag. “Excuse me while I go shower off the self-pity right now. I’ll talk to you later.” She shoved her feet into her sparkly flip flops. “I love you most.”

“I love Rhys most, but you’re definitely on the list.”

Della burst out laughing. “Bitch.”

“Bye, Bitch. Love you.”

As Della showered, all she could think was, Thank God I didn’t move in for a kiss. Micky was right—nothing had happened last night. But going forward…no more deep conversations. This isn’t a high school sleepover. This is a job. Nothing more.

Dressed and ready to go, Della came into the kitchen to find Bex pouring his brother’s tea into a travel mug.

“All set for your interviews?” she asked Van.

“Well, let’s see.” He feigned a thoughtful expression. “The guys in the band are like brothers to me, we’re looking forward to a break and seeing our families, I can’t wait to get back in the studio, no, I’m not the father, and no, I don’t have any rituals before I go on stage…yep. Got it.” Van grinned to let them know he really was all right and then headed off the bus.

“You’d think they’d come up with some new and interesting questions.” Della busied herself with dropping a pod into the coffee maker.

“They learned early on he can’t be manipulated. No one’s going to get him to talk, make him spill secrets, or cry. So, they give their viewers the touch they want, and all is good.”

“The touch?”

“It’s when a fan gets to connect to an artist. It could be hearing his acoustic session in a radio station or shaking his hand during a meet-and-greet.”

“Got it.” She grabbed the cream from the fridge and sugar packets from a container in the cabinet. “Okay, so I already took care of the first half of the list.”

“I saw that you’d checked them off.” To his credit, he sounded normal—not all stiff and professional like she did.

It helped her relax. She didn’t think she was getting fired. “Need me to do any errands?”

Liar. She wasn’t relaxed at all. Because she didn’t fear getting fired nearly as much as losing the intimacy they’d shared last night

Never getting to talk to him like that again.

Because it wasn’t one-sided. She hadn’t made it up.

You know how I know?

Because he wouldn’t have opened up to me the way he did. He felt it, too.

He didn’t want it. He might regret it. But he felt it.

When he didn’t answer, she turned around. For the first time since last night, they looked at each other, and it all came back. All the longing, the wild attraction…all of it.

His eyes told her everything. They gave her a panoramic view of his soul.

And she liked everything she saw.

She wanted to soothe the wounded bits—the loss of his father, the rough years they’d endured after he’d passed, the young boy who’d had to step into the shoes of a grown man. The kid bullied for being poor, for having a talent so much bigger than his age.

She wanted to kiss the sensitive bits, the ones that created his profound lyrics.

And she wanted to fuck the badass, tattooed man who ran Van Claybourne like a boss.

“Tour ends the day after tomorrow.” He talked to her like an assistant. “We’re good until then.” One he’d just met the day before yesterday.

She got it. In two days, they’d never see each other again, and he had to hope and pray she didn’t take all she’d learned to the press.

“Cool. I’ll head up to my bunk and get after the rest of the list.” Look at me, covering my sadness and discomfort with professionalism. When she really wanted to make a joke, break the tension, go back to the way they’d been last night.

“No need. You can work here. I’ll be in the lounge, and Scat’s not coming back until after the show. He’s got friends in Vegas, so you’ve got the rest of the bus to yourself.”

“Okay, great. Thank you.” She watched him grab a water bottle out of the refrigerator and head down the hallway.

With each step he took away from her, she felt the tug deep down, as though they were connected by a cord. Each second that passed amped her anxiety.

Don’t go.

She wanted to roll her eyes and say Oh, come on. This is stupid. Nothing happened.

We’re good.

She wanted to work at the table with him, throw out comments about the annoying publicist and the hilarious fan mail. She wanted to make him laugh.

God, she loved when he laughed. It was a rare and beautiful thing.

But he didn’t want it.

Obviously, since he’s going to lock himself in the lounge.

Her gut called out the lie. He did want to hang out with her. She knew it.

“Bex?” she called.

He hesitated before turning back to her.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“Don’t be.” His tone was still brisk. “We were alone on a bus, and we shared more than we meant to.” He gave a terse nod. “We’re good.”

But she wasn’t the type to pretend. She faced issues head-on. “I’m not sorry for talking to you last night. That was the best conversation of my life. I’m sorry for forgetting who you are.”

“Who I am?”

“You’re a rock star. The biggest in the world. And I talked to you like we were friends. I forgot how much is at stake for you to open up to me the way you did, and I promise I won’t make the same mistake again, boss.” She gave him a saucy smile.

But instead of an eye roll over calling him boss, his features softened into…yearning. He wanted more, too.

It took every ounce of restraint she had to keep her mouth shut and her feet from moving her down the hall and into his arms.

I want you, Bex. So much it’s killing me to pretend.

But he wasn’t giving into his heart, and so she wouldn’t, either.

“I’m nosy and pushy,” she said. “And I clearly don’t have boundaries. But I’ll be better.”

He held her gaze for an excruciatingly long moment. So long, she had time to consider all the possible scenarios.

He’s firing me.

He’s going to take me right here in the hallway of this bus.

He’ll ask me to get my assignments from Martin from now on.

Instead, with utter sincerity, he said, “You’re perfect just as you are.”

And then he turned and got swallowed up in the darkness at the end of the hall.

CHAPTER SEVEN

When another shoe hit the wall, Della got off her call and slid out of the banquette.

Enough already. Storming down the hall, she knocked on the door. “You doing okay, Diva?”

“Fine.” His gruff tone held a clear edge of Fuck off.

But she wasn’t intimidated. “How about a lunch break?”

“Not hungry.”

“Huh. ‘Cause you sound hangry to me.”

No response.

“Look, you’re obviously not accomplishing anything, so why not take a break? We can go to the aquarium.” Does Vegas even have one? “Oh, how about the Hoover Dam? I’ve never been there.”

“I can’t. I have to get it right for the show tonight.”

“Not to point out the obvious, but the song’s been this way the entire tour. It can be this way tonight. If you give your brain a break, you might get it right in time for the LA shows.”

He went quiet on her.

“Look, let’s go get some lunch. What about that diner your family used to go to? You can get pancakes, French toast, and the country breakfast.” She listened for a response. “And I’ll even let you get the waffles, too.”

Silence.

She pressed her ear to the door, and one second later, it opened. Just a crack.

Bex stood there in a rumpled T-shirt, messy hair, and enough scruff to make her want to run her fingers through it. And then he broke into a boyish smile. “Waffles?”

Her heart swelled to bursting. “Anything your heart desires.”

“I believe you. You seem like the kind of woman who’d make all of a man’s dreams come true.”

Heat blazed a trail from her earlobes all the way down to the soles of her feet.

What does that mean?

What the ever-loving-hell does that mean?

But then his expression shuttered again. “But I can’t go out while Van’s doing radio interviews. Thanks, though.” He shut the door.

“Fine.” Going back to the kitchen, she pulled some salads and drinks out of the fridge, found some snacks in the cupboard, and grabbed a sheet from the closet. Arms full, she kicked the door. “Open up.”

“In a minute.”

“If you don’t open the door right this minute, I’m going to hang a sign outside the bus that says Rock Star On Board. Come Party!”

The next thing she knew, the door flung open, and Bex stood there looking at the food in her arms. “What is all this?”

“Lunch.”

He relieved her of the bottles of sparkling lemonade. Just as he was about to set it all on the coffee table, she said, “Wait.” She spread the sheet out over it. “We’re having a picnic.”

When he didn’t argue, she glanced up to find him watching her with a delighted expression. He set the food down, and she went back for silverware and glasses. Then, they sat side by side on the couch and dug in.

She swiped a tortilla chip through the guacamole and stuffed the whole thing in her mouth.

“Hungry much?” he asked.

“Starving. And FYI, I’m not the kind of girl who’s self-conscious about eating in front of other people.” She loaded another chip. “Get in my mouth.” She noticed his notes on the floor and read them while she chewed. Huh. Every single line he’d crossed out shared one similar attribute. “You’re forcing a happy ending.”

“What?”

She gestured to the notebook. “The song. Maybe that’s why it’s not working for you. Maybe their story doesn’t end well.”

“You said that’s what you like about my songs. That they end ‘in triumph.’”

“Maybe the triumph is that they split up and find their true happiness with other people. The right people.”

“That’s not what the song’s about. They’re committed to each other.” He stopped eating, looking truly upset. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s the way he describes her. It’s like he feels affection for her, but none of that tear your clothes off I have to have you kind of love.”

“That’s because they’ve known each other a long time. That kind of passion fades.”

“It’s a song. Your listeners want high emotions, high stakes. They want to feel something. In real life, couples might be pals. Maybe they marry because they’re compatible or they both want kids, and they’ve reached a certain age, but in songs or books or movies, who wants a boring couple like that? So, either make this couple volatile and interesting or break them up.”

“What’s your idea of interesting?”

“Well, conflict, right? They love each other, but they can’t be together…because she’s his brother’s girlfriend.”

“This isn’t a soap opera. That’s not what I write about.”

“Cool, but this song isn’t working. So give them a conflict. Maybe he loves her but he’s not in love with her anymore.”

“Maybe he never was.” Underneath the flatness of his tone, she heard an undercurrent of worry.

She stopped chewing to look at him. “That would change the entire song, but it could be really powerful. Realizing you’re not in love with someone, but you love them enough that ending the relationship will cost you something big. An important friendship, a connection to a family you’ve grown close to. She can be the one person in the world he wants to talk to, hang out with, and confide in, but not the woman he wants to fuck senseless.” She slapped her hand on the table. “That’s it. That’s the song. I love her, but my hands want to explore someone else’s body. I love her, but I ache for someone else.”

He dropped his fork and picked up the pencil. As he wrote furiously, she sat quietly eating her lunch, dying to know what he was writing, what he was thinking, but not wanting to disturb his flow.

The energy coming off him was electric. He was a true creative genius, and she got such a high off just being there while the ideas gushed out of him. It made her want to get her own notebook and start writing.

When he finished, he set the paper down and loaded his fork with salad. “Now, I’m hungry.”

She smiled, and while he ate, she filled him in on all the things she’d accomplished. He nodded, seeming pleased and relaxed. “Martin said he turned down the licensing deal for Tomorrow Again, and that the producer doubled his offer.”

“The designer uses child labor. He can’t use our song no matter how much he pays us.”

“That’s what Martin told him.”

Bex set his fork down and shifted back on the cushion. “I’m stuffed.” He smiled at her. “Let’s order dessert.”

“You never eat dessert.” She unconsciously reached to pat his taut belly but jerked her hand back. No more of that.

“Yeah, but I want lobster tails.”

“You just said you wanted dessert. Now you want seafood?”

“No, Carlos’s lobster tails are epic. They’re like cannoli, only it’s a flaky, sweet, crunchy pastry and a creamy filling. You’ll love them.”

“Okay, you’re triplets, right? You’re the third brother I haven’t met yet?”

He chuckled. “What, I can’t want dessert?”

“So, all it took to change your mood was editing a few words?”

“No, the right words.” He smiled so sweetly his dimples popped. “You did good. I couldn’t get it right because I was on the wrong track. I was stuck in a groove, and once you kicked me out of it, I could see it from a new perspective.”

“Are you going to show me what you wrote? Or do I have to be like every other googly-eyed fan in the world and hear it when Van sings it tonight?”

“Why, are you going to the show?”

“It’s Vegas. Of course, I’m going to the show. Come with me. You can wear one of your disguises.”

“They only work from a distance. When you’re sitting next to someone on the subway or standing in a crowd backstage, they start to wonder, and then it doesn’t take them long to figure it out.”

“Poor baby, stuck on a luxury bus on a world tour with the most famous rock band in the world. Sleeping all alone on his mattress stuffed with hundreds of millions of dollars.”

“Oh, okay.” He nodded like I got your number. “You’re one of those people who thinks money can buy happiness.”

“Um, pretty sure that’s why you got into this business to begin with.”

“You got me there.” Closing his eyes, he set his bare feet on the edge of the coffee table. “I think I need a nap now.”

“Okay, old man.”

“I do feel old sometimes.” He said it quietly.

“Well, before you nod off, can you play me the new song?”

He opened one eye. “What, give you a free acoustic performance?”

“I mean, I could pay you something.”

“You can’t afford me.”

“Not to hurt your feelings or anything, but you’re just the brother of a famous musician, and it’s kind of sad that you want to ride on his coattails. Tell you what, one day, after Van retires, I’ll help you book some piano bars, and you can bill yourself as a Van Claybourne tribute band.”

He laughed. “You’re a cold, cold woman.” Setting his feet on the floor, he reached for his guitar and started strumming. “How quickly they forget who writes his material.”

“Is it really about the song, though?” She loved teasing him. “Or the hottie who’s singing it?”

He shook his head, strumming, fighting a grin.

“You’re giving me credit on the liner notes, right? ‘Cause I want royalties.”

“I’ll pay you a consultant fee in the form of a lobster tail.” The melody changed, and she tried to place this acoustic version with one of the songs she knew so well, but this was one she’d never heard.

In fact, it wasn’t Van Claybourne’s style at all. She went quiet, listening. It was beautiful and so evocative a knot formed in her throat.

When he finished, every emotion his melody had conjured lingered in the air, like the hint of her mom’s perfume in her closet back home. “What was that?” Her voice came out a whisper.

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it. It was…It doesn’t even have words, and I felt more from it than any song I’ve ever heard. Did you write it just now?”

Instead of answering, he played another one. He sang of longing and loneliness, the dream of finding a home and the right person to share it with. The isolation of being surrounded by people but not having that one person who sees you for who you are.

When he finished, he drank right out of the bottle of lemonade, not once looking at her.

He still felt alone. For all his money and travels and the closeness of a twin brother, he still feels the same loneliness that every other human being on the planet feels.

“I got my boobs when I was eleven. And I went from being a kid to a sexpot over the course of one summer. Instead of people wanting to hang out with me because I was fun, they wanted to date me so they could touch my tits.”

She could tell that every fiber of his body was attuned to her, listening.

“And when I told you I had good intuition, that’s why. I became an expert on knowing a man’s intentions. And let me tell you, once you have a body like this, very few men want to get to know the real you. Other than Micky, you’re the only person who knows I write poetry. It’s not that I’m not ashamed of it. It’s that no one’s asked what I’m into.” Waves of sexual tension radiated between them. She didn’t doubt he wanted to reach out to her as much as she wanted him to just do it. Because connecting on this level emotionally required touch.

Fusion.

She watched as his hand curled into a fist and discreetly slid under his thigh.

She yearned for this man.

Wanted him beyond reason.

But something held him back, and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with her job.

“So no one knows your song catalog better than I do.” She tried to lighten the mood. “And I’ve never heard either of those songs, so what gives? Is that new material for the next album? Are you going in a new direction?”

“Hell, no.”

“Then, what are they for?”

“Me.” He cut her a look. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about them.”

“What do you mean? They’re beautiful songs.”

He hunched a shoulder. “They’re ballads.”

“And I guarantee, if you released them, they’d be a smash. Do you have more of them?”

He got up. “A few. But let’s keep it between us.” He started tidying up their lunch, dropping forks into one of the bowls and stacking the containers.

“I will. That’s a given. Everything we talk about stays between us but help me understand why it’s such a big deal. They’re beautiful songs.”

“They’re off-brand.” When he walked out of the room, she followed.

“Did the label reject them?”

“No one’s ever heard them but you.” When she jolted, and her eyes widened, he said, “That’s what I started with. Ballads.” He dumped the bowls and silverware in the sink.

“When you were a teenager, performing on the street?”

“Yep.”

Oh, God. Tell me that bully didn’t make fun of you. “Okay, so the kids didn’t just tease you for singing on Freemont. They made fun of your love songs?”

“Yes. But that’s not why I switched it up. Once my family was singing with me, we had to do bigger, livelier songs. It took a while before we found our voice. It was basically figuring out which songs got the best response.”

“Bex, I’m no record executive, but I’m a big music fan. I’m your listener, and I’m positive if you released these songs, you’d have fans crying and screaming. You guys would be the next generation of the Beatles.”

He tipped his head back and finished off the lemonade, tossing the bottle in the recycling bin. “What we’ve got works.”

“Only because you haven’t tried performing one of your ballads.”

“I did, remember? And it was all fun and games until kids from school walked by and started singing like their nuts were in a vise.”

“I hate what they did to you. I swear to God…I want to hunt those kids down.”

“They’re not worth it.”

“Are you kidding me? Imagine what direction you would’ve taken if they hadn’t done that.” But she didn’t want to dwell on what might have been. “Play me another one.”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I don’t have any others.”

She burst out laughing.

“What?”

She gave him a gentle shove. “You totally just lied to me.”

He cracked a grin. Pinching two fingers together, he said, “A little one.”

“You have a treasure trove of ballads, don’t you?”

“How many notebooks full of poems do you have in your closet?”

She probably had a hundred of them. “You seriously have that many?” She couldn’t believe it. “That’s your true calling. That’s the music you should be playing. You, not Van.”

Grabbing his shoulders, she spun him around and marched him back into the lounge. She pushed him onto the couch and thrust the guitar at him. He scowled at her but started strumming anyway, and she sat down beside him.

How? Seriously, how did a melody make you feel so much? There were just some songs that grabbed the wheel and steered your emotions in whichever direction they wanted.

You’re amazing, she mouthed.

He smiled.

With each song he played, she fell a little deeper in…like with this man. It wasn’t just his talent—though that was a glowing, pulsing force within him. It was the way he nailed universal emotions. His kindness, his loyalty, his strength, and his vulnerabilities. She liked every single thing about him.

And right then, she knew she had to show him her words. Springing off the couch, she ran up to her bunk, pulled the notebook out from under her pillow, and brought it back to him.

He was just putting the guitar back in its case. “Oh, I thought I’d driven you away with my sappy drivel.”

“It’s not drivel, you goofball. It’s brilliant and beautiful. It’s magic.”

He tipped his chin to her book. “What’ve you got there?”

All that eagerness shriveled into a wad of fear. “Nothing. It’s stupid. I was just being impulsive.”

“That’s your poetry.” He flicked his fingers in a gimme motion.

“My poems are literally nothing like your lyrics. I have no idea why I wanted to get them.”

“Sure, you do. I was showing you a glimpse of me, and you want to show me you.” He grabbed her arm and tugged, making her drop onto the couch beside him. “Hey, I want to see more than your boobs, okay? Very much.”

She smiled, but the way he looked at her made her restless.

I would quit my job this second just to finally taste that sexy mouth.

With the hunger in his eyes, she knew she hadn’t been wrong last night.

This is real. This is potent.

And you know what? Fuck it.

Screw the money. Screw the job.

I’m going to do it.

I’m going to kiss him.

Because nothing mattered more than finally having the love she’d always dreamed of.

Cupping his jaw, she leaned in so close she could feel the gentle gust of lemonade-scented breath on her skin.

“Hello?” someone called. “Bex?” A swish of fabric came hustling down the hallway.

And then a woman wearing a frothy white wedding dress burst into the lounge. “Surprise. Guess who’s getting married tonight?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

An attractive young woman wearing five tons of tulle invaded the lounge.

Thinking she might be a crazed fan, Della got up and stood between her and her boss. “Hey. How’s it going?” She moved slowly, hoping to edge the bride out of the room.

But the woman held her ground. “Who are you?”

“Mary-Therese, this is Della, my new assistant.” Bex cut her a look swimming in guilt. “Della, Mary-Therese, my…”

The woman seemed unfazed that he hadn’t chosen a word to describe her. “Well, in about an hour, I’m going to be his wife.”

Is this a joke? Della looked to her boss for confirmation. Not once had he mentioned a fiancée. For all the time they’d spent together, all the secrets they’d shared…it would’ve come up. It should have.

And then it slammed into her like hurricane-force winds. The reason he hadn’t kissed her.

He’s engaged.

To this woman…who hasn’t even hugged or kissed him.

A woman he’s never mentioned.

Mary-Therese turned her full attention on him. “Listen, I know it’s crazy, but you’re in Vegas tonight, and I just thought…why not? You’re always saying I never take charge. Well, here I am. I’ve arranged everything. I mean, Martin helped with the honeymoon, but I did the rest.” She glanced at the Minnie Mouse watch on her slender wrist. “What time is Van done with his show? He’s going to be our witness.” Her gaze popped up and landed on Della. “Actually, would you mind doing it? It won’t take long.”

Della wouldn’t let either of them see her devastation, so she slapped on a smile. “With what he’s paying me, I’ll do anything he asks.” She elbowed Bex. “Want me to be your Best Man?”

“No.” He sounded firm. “Mary, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?”

Oh, God, so it’s true. Some small part of her had hoped the woman had been a fan or an actress—anything other than the reality that the one and only man she’d ever felt something monumental for was taken.

For the first time, the pretty brunette looked nervous. “It’s been six years, Bex. Six years. What’re we doing? It’s time for us to take the next step. Don’t you think?”

Della needed to leave them alone. She quietly turned for the door.

“Wait. Don’t go anywhere, please.” Mary sounded a little frantic. “We have a reservation. Well, we have lots of them actually. The honeymoon suite, the flight tomorrow, the resort. Everything’s on a tight schedule, so we really do need to leave now.”

“Mary, no.” Bex’s authoritative tone had his girlfriend looking distraught. “We’re not getting married.”

“Okay, then, tell me what we’re doing? Where is this relationship going if not to marriage? I want to have kids.”

“We can talk about this when I get home.”

“But I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to be in this awful holding pattern. We never see each other.”

“You know my life.” It seemed like Bex wanted to sound exasperated, but she could tell he was freaked out. “It’s always been like this, so why do you want to get married now?”

Mary lifted a handful of tulle and stared at it for a long moment. “A home finally came on the market on Blossom Lane. I heard from the realtor yesterday, and I thought, This is it. We’ve been on the waiting list for five years, and it’s finally happened. But I’m not making an offer unless we’re married.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did.” She grew animated. “I texted you. You never answered. Bex, everything we’ve dreamed about…a home, children…it starts with this house. I know you want this as much as I do.” She clasped her hands and brought them to her mouth, covering a brilliant smile. “Guess which house?”

“The one with the blue door.”

Mary’s expression went dreamy. “Yes. With the garden and little white fence. It’s ours.”

The fight, the certainty, drained out of him. His expression made it look like he was standing in front of the house, the sun shining down on him, cherry blossoms dancing in a breeze. It was filled with such longing that Della’s heart hurt for him.

But then, he hardened. “We can make an offer, but I don’t want a quickie wedding in Vegas. When I get married, I want my family there.”

Mary’s lips pressed together tightly, and she shot Della a look. “Can you give us a minute?”

“That’s what I tried to do.” Della sailed out of the room and headed for the stairs.

“What did I walk in on here?” Mary asked.

Whoa. A wave of guilt hit her so hard she stumbled, stopping midway up to listen. Because she had wanted to kiss this woman’s fiancé. She would have done it, too. She’d been a breath away from his mouth.

“My assistant was helping me with a song I’m having trouble with,” Bex said.

My assistant.

That shouldn’t hurt since it’s what I am.

But it does. I just felt like so much more.

“Can we not pretend you weren’t canoodling with the pinup girl?” Mary said.

Uh, excuse me? Rude.

“First of all, don’t talk about Della like that. She’s been nothing but professional and kind and helpful. Secondly, I’ve been holed up in here all day, and she was thoughtful enough to bring me lunch.”

“Oh, my God, do you hear yourself? She’s kind and thoughtful. She brought you lunch? There is absolutely something going on here.”

“Like I said, this is her second day on the job. And I’ve never cheated on you.” Bex sounded pissed.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. The last thing in the world I expected to see was you laughing and talking to a beautiful woman. I guess…since I’ve never seen you on tour, I didn’t really think about your rapport with your assistants.”

“Mary, what the hell is going on? None of this makes sense.”

“I just told you.” There was a plea in her voice. “We’ve waiting forever for a house to come on the market, and it finally did, and it was like a sign.”

“We don’t need to get married to buy a house.”

“Okay, but then, what are we doing? We’ve been together six years, and we’re not really going anywhere. We’re both leading separate lives. And if we buy this house, then we’re moving forward. We’re living our dreams instead of just talking about them.”

“I don’t want to elope in Vegas.”

“Well…then…I don’t know what to tell you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I guess I’m saying…you either come with me to the chapel tonight or…”

“Or what?”

“Or we’re done.”

Della’s heart was breaking. In a tiny chapel with arched windows and dusty flower planters hooked to the end of each pew, she watched an Elvis impersonator chatting with Bex.

Everyone waited for the bride to appear in the doorway.

How could she have read him so wrong?

Am I delusional?

Do I only see what I want?

She’d been one second away from kissing him. Imagine if Mary-Therese had walked in on that?

All this time she’d believed that something was happening between them, that they were forming a real and true bond. Why couldn’t she get it in her head that she worked for the man? They weren’t falling in love.

He’d never misled her.

No, he hadn’t mentioned his girlfriend, but he’d never needed to. Because she’d started her job two days ago.

Obviously, she’d confused her teenage fantasies about Van Claybourne with the man she’d come to know. It had messed with her head.

Except…they’d talked about love—the difference between being in love and loving someone, about ending a relationship that had run its course. He didn’t think he’d ever been in love—he’d said that. So now that he understood the difference, what was he doing marrying this woman?

They didn’t look at each other with the kind of emotion she’d expect from a couple about to spend their lives together. They still hadn’t kissed or hugged. They hadn’t held hands.

She just couldn’t make sense of it. How could that sensitive, loving man marry a woman he wasn’t in love with?

There was no fire between them, no romance. The woman hadn’t said, I love you, I can’t wait to marry you. She’d given him an ultimatum.

The organist began playing, and Della swung around to see the bride standing in the doorway.

She was pretty, petite…lovely. On the outside, they made a good-looking couple. When the bride’s gaze connected with Bex’s, she lifted her eyebrows as if to say We’re really doing this.

But Bex looked…uneasy. His gaze dropped to his black Converse. And then swung up and over to Della. Exposing a stark helplessness, an urgent question in his eyes. She could swear she felt the thundering of his heart over this momentous decision he needed to make in the next five minutes.

She had only one response for him.

Don’t marry her.

Mary-Therese floated down the aisle, her gown swishing, and took her place beside him.

The officiant gave a nod to the organist to stop playing. “Mary-Therese Baker and Bexley Sinclair, you are about to enter into a commitment meant to last a lifetime.”

Bex flinched.

She wanted to shout at him You don’t have to do this.

We can walk out that door right this minute, and I’ll hail us a cab.

Perspiration gleamed on his forehead. He didn’t look happy, but he also wasn’t stopping the ceremony.

“As an officiant, I’m authorized to remind you of the binding nature of the relationship you are entering into.”

Mary-Therese reached for Bex’s hand and squeezed. When his gaze shifted over her shoulder, the bride followed it.

To me.

They’re both looking at me.

But instead of begging him to stop this madness, Della looked away.

Because it was his choice to make. She wouldn’t plead with someone to love her. He either wanted her enough to choose her, or he didn’t.

The officiant broke the excruciating tension. “Marriage is the union of two people to the exclusion of all others, voluntarily entered into for all of life.”

Was the Elvis lookalike making a point here? Did he pick up on the weird vibes of this wedding?

But no, he was just reciting the script he ran through every hour on the hour, all day long. “Bexley, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Tension wrenched her stomach, making her sick. She wanted to scream at him What the hell are you doing?

And the moment his gaze slid to her again, she understood. Bex didn’t believe in romantic love. He wrote about passion, but he’d never lived it. And two days…it wasn’t enough to convince him it existed. Or that it could endure.

She knew because she felt it, too.

“Will you love, honor, respect her,” the officiant said. “And stand by her no matter what may come?”

Bex swallowed, his chest rising and falling in quick, short breaths. “I—”

“What the fuck is going on?” a deep voice bellowed.

Everyone turned to find Van standing in the doorway. In a white-T-shirt, jeans, and motorcycle boots, he looked like the marauding king…of a motorcycle club. His tousled hair stuck to his forehead, damp from his performance.

He strode down the aisle, anger billowing off him.

“Hey, Van,” Mary-Therese said nervously. “Thanks for coming—”

“I’m not here as a witness.” Van smacked Bex’s shoulder. “I’m here to talk sense into you. What’re you doing?” Before Bex could answer, he continued. “I can’t believe you’d get married without me. Without Mom?”

“No, it’s not like that,” the bride said. “It’s meant to be fun. Spontaneous. He’s always saying I never take chances, that I don’t take charge. So, I thought, since you guys were in Vegas, it would be fun to get married now. We’ll have a reception with both our families when the tour’s over.”

Bex had a look in his eyes that seemed alert, on edge. As if he wanted his brother’s perspective. “We’ve been together six years…you knew it was going to end up here.”

End up here? He made it sound like a prison sentence.

“This is bullshit,” Van said.

Mary-Therese grew anxious. “You know he doesn’t want some big, grand affair. This is perfect, actually.”

“The woman my brother spends his life with should know he’d never want to get married on Freemont Street.”

Awareness bloomed in Della’s chest. Of course.

It would make Bex’s skin crawl to be back here.

“And he’d never want a quickie wedding. Words matter to him. And that’s something else the woman he marries should know.”

Mary-Therese looked shamed but kept her chin tilted. “You’re making too much out of this. It’s supposed to be fun. Just…let us do it, okay?”

“Why?” Van demanded of her. “What’s your rush?”

“Rush?” Mary looked like she was about to throw her bouquet at him. “It’s been six years…are you kidding me? This is the opposite of rushing. This is—”

“Shit or get off the pot?” Van turned his back on her to face his brother. “Is this what you want?”

All eyes went to the groom. But he only had eyes for Della.

And they were on fire.

She felt his gaze like a shot of tequila. Burning, bittersweet, and hot.

Van grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “Look at you, man. You’ve never looked at anyone the way you look at her.”

“What?” Mary-Therese eyed her groom accusingly. “You said nothing was going on between you two.”

Van ignored her. “I’ve hardly spent any time around the two of you, but I already see a difference. Every time I talk to you, it’s Della this and Della that. You’re excited to be around her. You’re real. And I only know that because I’ve seen you around her—” he pointed an accusing finger at the bride, “—for six years.”

“So, you are cheating on me?” Mary-Therese sounded horrified.

“No,” Bex said firmly. “I would never do that.”

“And yet in two days, I’ve seen more emotion—more happiness—than all your years with her.” Van tipped his head toward Mary.

“I’ll give you a moment.” The officiant started off, then hesitated. “But I do have another ceremony in twenty minutes.”

Everyone ignored him, and he headed toward the organist, who appeared to be his wife.

“I thought you liked me.” Tears glittered in the bride’s eyes. “I’ve never done anything wrong.”

“It’s not about you,” Van said. “My brother is so many things—a son, a brother, an artist, and a businessman—but you don’t know them because you’re never around each other.” Van moved closer to Bex, lowering his voice. “Look, we’re on the road three hundred days a year. You want stability, you want a home. I get that. I want it, too. But you’re not going to get what you want from her.”

“A house came on the market. The one with the blue door.” Bex tipped his chin to Mary. “The realtor called her.”

Van’s expression softened. “I know what that house means to you, but I want you to think about something. One day, we’re going to stop touring, and you’re going to spend every day with her.” Van pointed to Mary. “Night after night, you’ll sleep with her, day after day, you’ll eat meals with her in that house that means so much to you. We’re talking about the woman you’re going to spend your life with.” Van shot a look to Della. “Now imagine coming home to her. With Della, you talk about things that matter. Have you ever met anyone who wants to know you the way she does? That woman blows in with her sparkly tool kit and high heels and gets shit done and asks us questions no one’s bothered to ask in ten fucking years. In my first five minutes with her, she figured out I’m not happy. That song you wrote tonight? That’s the best one you’ve ever written. And it took her to draw it out of you.”

Bex shot her a look so filled with longing, her knees went weak. A whirlwind of energy spun in her chest, sending out jets of pure excitement and making her want to run into his arms—make him feel what they are together: combustible.

In that moment, it all became undeniable. The attraction, the affection, that sense of perfect rightness when they were together.

A voice dropped into her mind and out of nowhere it said, Him.

He’s the one.

And she could swear on all that was holy she heard a whisper in the air from him that said, You.

You’re mine.

Finally, Bex shut out everyone in the room and spoke to his bride. “What’s your favorite song of mine?”

“I don’t know.” Her tone had an edge of impatience. “I like all of them.”

“But which one in particular?”

“Um, that one you played at the Superbowl? That everybody dances to? It’s a happy song.”

Holy shit. She has no idea what he writes. She doesn’t listen to his music.

“Is there a lyric in particular you like? One that stands out?”

“Why are you testing me? Whether I’ve memorized your lyrics has nothing to do with us getting married.”

“But it does. Because my lyrics are me. They’re literally a window into my soul.”

Mary grew flustered. “You know I’m not that into music.”

“Do you love me? Are you in love with me?”

Tension filled the room like a high-pitched whine.

Tears spilled down Mary’s cheeks. “Of course.”

“And you want to spend your life with me? Me, Mary. I’m talking about me. Not the idea of me, the idea of a husband, but me.”

“I…of course.”

“You’re asking the wrong question,” Van said. “Do you love her? Are you in love with her?”

“I didn’t know what being in love felt like.” Bex aimed his gaze right at Della. Until you.

He hit the bullseye, dead center of her heart, and she nearly cried.

“Why are you looking at her like that?” Mary asked. “Are you saying that after two days with her, you suddenly know what being in love feels like? Is that what you’re saying?”

Della could see it dawning on him. That this thing between them was real. Until he’d met her, he hadn’t believed in romantic love. In soulmates.

She understood. But for her, what had once been a fantasy, a yearning, had become truth. She believed in soulmates because she’d found hers.

And it would kill her if he didn’t see it, too.

“Is it?” Mary asked.

“Yes.” The simple word, spoken so plainly, so clearly, coasted through the room like a sweet breeze.

The bride lowered her bouquet. “You’ve broken my heart.”

CHAPTER NINE

Della was shaking.

She’d run out of that chapel as fast as her heels could carry her. With nowhere to go, she’d come back to the bus, figuring she’d pack up and stay the night in a hotel, give them all some space.

She’d barely gotten her bags packed when the brothers had boarded.

And now they were having it out right there in the lounge. What was she supposed to do? Walk past them with her suitcase and wave bye-bye? Catch ya later.

No, she was stuck eavesdropping on a very private conversation.

“Don’t pretend you’re brokenhearted, man,” Van said. “I know you. You don’t love Mary. You never have.”

“You’re missing the fucking point. I hurt her, asshole. Didn’t you hear what she said? I broke her heart.”

“That would suck if her heart was involved, but it was never like that between you two. What you broke were her future plans. Now, I’m asking you seriously. Did you love Mary-Therese?”

“Of course, I did.”

“Jesus, Bex. You know what I’m asking. Were you ever in love with her? Because you weren’t exactly doodling her name when you first met. In fact, it was a couple of months before I even figured out you were dating someone.”

“How am I supposed to have the kind of love you’re talking about? I’m on the road three hundred days a year. And she never visits. Our entire relationship is played out through texts and FaceTime.”

How had that ever been enough for him? She knew him. He needed so much more.

“Okay, and with Della?” Van asked.

She jolted at the sound of her name, desperate for Bex’s answer.

“Do you even know how many times you’ve texted me about her?” Van asked. “Della said this, Della thinks that. And when I’m in the room with the two of you? Sparks are flying everywhere.”

They are. They really are.

“Of course, I have feelings for her. Strong ones. She’s fucking amazing. But Mary and I…I just had it in my head that we’d have a home and a yard and dogs and kids. How does it make sense to blow all that up for someone I just met?”

“Because that someone woke you the fuck up. She showed you the difference between the wrong kind of love and the right kind. You’ve been on autopilot for years. Then, Della comes along and shows you everything you’ve been missing. So, yes, that’s exactly why you end it with Mary. When you see what your future would look like with her compared to what it’ll look like with someone like Della.”

No, not someone like Della.

With me.

She hadn’t dared dream it before, but she could imagine her life with Bex, and it was rich and deep and intense, filled with laughter and very, very hot sex. He would be amazing in bed. Because he cared. Because he saw her. Because her happiness mattered to him.

‘Look, it sucks to break up with someone you’ve been with so long. I get that—” Van began.

“How? How would you know that? You don’t have relationships.”

“Yeah, that’s because I’m on the road three hundred fucking days a year, too. Only, unlike you, I need to spend actual time with someone in order to fall in love with them. Jesus, Bex, I need more than this life we’re living. I need…”

“What?” Bex sounded concerned. “What do you need?”

“I get up every single day to live a life that’s not mine. I did it because we needed the money, and I continued to do it because it worked, and it made everybody happy.”

“But?”

“But I don’t want to go through the motions anymore.”

“What do you want?”

“I want a home, too. I want to wake up, scratch my balls, drink coffee, and stare out into the forest. I need time alone to think. I can’t be creative when I’m in constant motion, always surrounded by people. I need to hike and breathe mountain air. And I need…”

“You need what? Talk to me. I’m listening.”

“Nothing. This isn’t about me. This is about you, and the colossal mistake I don’t want you to make.”

“No, don’t brush it off like that. What do you need? Tell me.”

“I wouldn’t mind finding someone like Della, and that’s not going to happen with this life.”

“You’re into Della?” Bex sounded like his head might blow right off his body.

“What? No. I wish I were. She’s perfect. She’s fuck-hot—”

“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s so much more than her looks.”

Van went quiet. She strained to hear more but could only him quietly chuckling. And then, he said, “You’ve just made my point for me. She’s beautiful, she challenges you, she’s independent, and you two connect on a deep, personal level. She’s perfect for you. But, no, I don’t want her that way. But I do want to wake up next to one woman. The woman who gets me. Who knows all of me and still loves me. I need…I need more.”

“What’re you saying?”

“I’m done, man. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do it.”

“We can’t just walk away. We’ve got one more record with the label. We’ve got a European tour starting in September.”

“If, after everything I just said, you tell me I have to honor our contract, that I have to tour another album, then I’ll do it.” Van sounded dull, flat. Deeply disappointed. “But I’m going to hate every minute of it.”

More silence. Every muscle in her body tightened, her senses on high alert.

It seemed impossible that Van Claybourne might end in this moment. She had no idea how Bex would answer, but she knew it would have a permanent impact on his relationship with his twin.

Finally, Bex said, “I love you, man. You’re the most important person in the world to me, and I need you to be happy. So, if you’re done…then it’s over.”

The strangest feeling came over her. Pride that Bex had made the right decision for his brother, but also shock that Van Claybourne had just ended.

And fear.

That she’d somehow caused the breakup of one of the greatest bands in the history of rock ‘n roll.

Della was so screwed.

The minute the brothers had gone into the lounge to have a heart-to-heart, she’d taken advantage of the opportunity to dash off the bus. She couldn’t invade their privacy one more second.

But in her haste, she’d left her purse and luggage in her bunk.

Now, she was stuck wandering through a casino, anxious because she needed a wallet to pay for a room, food…a freaking toothbrush.

Worse, if the band had truly broken up, her job was over.

I’ll never see Bex again.

Surrounded by flashing lights and the dings and bells of slot machines, she couldn’t stop worrying about him. He had to be hurting. He had to be confused. He needed to talk to someone.

But that someone isn’t me since I’m the source of all his troubles.

Am I, though?

She hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d never flirted with him—

Hey, even if I had, I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.

Still, she’d been the catalyst for some massive changes.

She’d left before hearing Van’s response, so she had no idea what they’d decided to do about their contract with the label. But even if they actually went through with it and ended the band, they wouldn’t cancel the remaining two shows in LA.

Right?

What a terrible mess. She glanced at the time on her phone, wondering when it was safe to go back and get her belongings. Never. It will never be safe. Because with the whole twin thing, the brothers couldn’t both be out and about in Las Vegas. That meant one of them would likely stay on the bus.

If she knew Bex was alone, she’d go there. But what if he didn’t want to see her? What if he was having make-up sex with his bride right this minute?

She’d be devastated. In that moment, she realized everything Van said had fanned the flames of hope until they’d ignited into full-blown desperation.

I want him.

I want Bex to choose me.

She needed Micky. And while her first reaction was to think about the time and not disturb her friend, she remembered what Micky had said. I’m the one hurting the friendship by behaving differently. So, she opened her phone.

And found countless messages and voicemails.

You dummy! She’d forgotten that she’d turned off the sound for the wedding.

Quickly scrolling through them, she found a few from Micky, three from Martin’s assistant, and dozens from Bex.

Bex: Where are you?

Bex: You on the bus? Heading there now.

Bex: You’re not here. Where did you go?

Bex: I get that you’re angry, but I just need to know you’re all right.

Angry? Oh, no, I’m anything but angry.

I’m scared.

And I want you so much I’m sick to my stomach.

Bex: Did you get a hotel room? Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I’ll pay for it. This isn’t coming out of your savings.

Look at him. At the most stressful time of his life, he’s thinking about me. Putting my needs first.

This man.

I want him.

I can’t lose him.

Bex: I understand if you’re quitting, and I will pay you for the full month. You’ve been invaluable to me. For so many reasons.

Bex: I’m sorry I got you involved in my drama. If you’re angry, I apologize. If you’re feeling guilty, don’t. You haven’t done anything wrong. If you’re having a wild night at the craps table, getting drunk, and flirting with high rollers…I wish I could be with you.

Bex: I guess that’s the problem. I’d rather be with you than with anyone else.

Della nearly dropped her phone. Her heart swelled so big she thought it might burst.

He wants me.

Lost in the maze of rooms, Della raced toward a server. “How do I get out of here?”

The woman pointed toward the exit sign. “Just follow the signs, and you’ll find your way out.”

“Thank you.” On the move, she raced past people seated in front of slot machines, swerved around wait staff and couples, and bypassed families and groups making their way across the loud, crowded casino at midnight.

Bursting out of the hotel, she breathed in the cool night air. She dashed around valets, cut between gleaming limos, and found her way back to the stadium parking lot. With the bus in sight, hope surged through her.

She needed to get to him, to be there for him.

She wished she’d seen his texts earlier. She hadn’t even checked the timestamp to see when he’d sent them, but it had to have been a couple of hours ago. Right after they’d left the chapel.

He’s been alone all this time.

And I was right here. I could’ve been there for him.

Well, I’m here now.

She reached the bus, surprised to find the doors wide open.

That’s not right. For security reasons, they kept them locked. Especially, after a show.

She hit the first step and heard a swish of material and a whisper of breath.

The sweet scent of perfume hit her nostrils.

Mary-Therese.

“I love you, Bex,” his bride said.

Della dropped low, awash in the stinging heat of mortification.

They’re getting back together.

Of course, they are. You don’t just end a six-year relationship like that.

Crouched on the stairs, Della was desperate to hear Bex’s response. If he said he loved her, too, she would be devastated. But, no, it wasn’t okay to eavesdrop on this private conversation. They hadn’t seen her yet, so she turned around, ready to slink away.

Except when she tried to move, she found her stiletto heel had lodged firmly in the rubber tread.

Oh, my God. This is not happening.

She leaned over to pull it out, but in the silence, the rustle of her clothing sounded like a scream. She froze.

Had they heard?

Come on, Bex. Answer her. Say something.

You’re killing me, here.

Instead, it was Mary who spoke. “I thought we had a future together. I don’t understand how it can be over because of a woman you met a few days ago.”

I have to get out of here.

But she couldn’t go anywhere without a shoe. Or her wallet.

What a disaster.

“Della showed me what was missing with us.” Bex sounded firm. “But she’s not the reason we stalled out. Come on, Mary. Our relationship can’t be enough for you, either.”

Silence hung in the air, so brittle if Della so much as shifted, it would crack, little shards of tension raining down on her.

“I don’t…”

“You don’t what?” Bex said. “Just say it. That’s the problem with us, isn’t it? We never really talk to each other. You tell me what happened in the classroom, and I tell you my frustrations with a vendor, but we never talk about the things that matter.”

“I’m scared.”

“About what a future without me looks like? Because as much as it hurts to break up, isn’t it exciting to think what kind of relationship you can have? One with passion and a real connection? We never had that. I see that now.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but…I mean, what have we been doing all this time?”

Bex’s tone softened. “I think we’ve been keeping each other company, filling in the empty spaces.”

“Is that all I ever was to you?”

“I don’t know, but I know that’s what it’s become. And we both deserve better.”

“Bex…” There was something plaintive in Mary’s tone. Something…off.

“Look, none of this makes sense. You plan a wedding without talking to me, show up on my bus…in a wedding gown…Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

“It’s what I said. I’m tired of being in a holding pattern. I wanted to…” Mary exhaled in defeat. “There’s this guy at school, Eric. A teacher. We’ve been spending a lot of time together. I really like him, but I’ve been with you for so long, it didn’t make sense to break up with you and start something with him when it might not go anywhere.”

“But don’t you want to try? I didn’t understand how much more there was until I met my assistant. Is that how you feel about Eric?”

My assistant.

That’s all I am to him? She was nothing more than someone who’d taken the time to ask some questions and get to know him. A contrast to his girlfriend.

“Yes,” Mary said quietly. “But it means letting go of what I thought was my future.”

Fuck the shoe. She’d rather walk barefoot on asphalt in Las Vegas than hear more of this conversation. She pulled her foot out of the pump and flexed her toes. She was ready to give it one more tug, when she heard Mary ask, “Do you love her?”

True to his character, he went quiet. Because he always gave a thoughtful answer.

As the seconds ticked by, tension wound tighter in her chest until she thought her ribs might crack.

And then he said, “I’ve only known her three days.”

“Come on, Bex. We’re finally being honest with each other. If we’re going to end a six-year relationship, let’s both have the decency to do it with integrity.”

Her skin tingled, her stomach contracted into a knot, and Della thought she might throw up.

Her life hinged on this answer. If he wanted to be with her, she would stay. She was all-in. She’d take her shot with this man she’d connected with on the deepest level.

But if he didn’t want her, she had no other choice than to go home and figure out a new path for herself.

“Hey, it’s okay if it’s just her looks. I know you’ve been faithful to me all these years, but it must’ve been hard with all the fans and models and movie stars you’re surrounded with. I’m sure you were tempted. And that woman just oozes sex.”

“Just her looks? Are you…Jesus, her looks are the least of it. I can’t love someone I just met, but yes, I have feelings for her. It’s the way we are together. It’s the way I miss her when I’m not with her, and the way I think about her constantly. It’s the way I break out in goosebumps when our arms brush in the car. I’ve never been this way before, and while it scares the shit out of me, I also can’t stop it. Three days with Della, and I yearn for her every second I’m not with her.”

Oh, my God. She shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, obviously, but she was so glad she’d stayed to hear him confess his feelings.

Tugging and twisting, she finally yanked the heel free and slid her foot back in. She’d go for a walk. And when she came back, she’d tell him how she felt. She’d have to quit working for him, but that was okay. She could start her business anywhere. As long as they were together—

“But I’m just getting out of a six-year relationship, and I’m not going right into another one. Not only do I need time, but I would never make her my rebound.”

And there you go.

In the blink of an eye, all Della’s hopes crashed and burned.

She refused to sink into the pit of despair. She just wouldn’t let herself do that.

One, Bex respected her enough to protect her from a world of hurt.

Two, she was stranded in Las Vegas and needed to keep her wits about her and come up with a solution.

And three—the biggest one of all—Bex yearned for her.

Maybe one day the timing would be right, and they could be together.

Sitting on the ledge of a fountain on the strip, the breeze spraying mist onto her heated skin, she considered her options. Without her wallet, she couldn’t get a hotel room or book a flight home.

She needed to borrow money from someone. Dad? Micky? It was one in the morning. Her dad would flip out if she called and told him she was alone in Vegas with no wallet.

Micky, it is.

At that exact moment, her phone vibrated.

Bex: Where are you?

She shouldn’t feel so relieved to see his name. But even if he wasn’t in the right place to be with her, she still missed him. Wanted him.

Della: At the Bellagio

Her phone rang but before she could speak, Bex said, “What are you doing at the Bellagio? I’ve been going out of my mind. You left your purse here.”

“Yes, I know that. But what did you want me to do? The bus has been therapy central for you and Van and your bride.”

“Therapy…what?” He blew out a breath. “She’s not my bride. We’re not…you know we’re not getting married. Della, are you all right? I’ve been worried sick.”

“No, I’m not all right. I’m stranded in Las Vegas.”

“Then, come back to the bus. Nobody’s here but me.”

“Look, I’ve already packed, so if you could leave my luggage outside, I’ll grab a cab and pick it up on my way to the airport.”

“Airport? Where are you going?”

“What do you mean, where am I going? The band broke up. I’m going home.”

“I don’t want you to go home.”

“Well, I’m not sure what you want me to do with that. Are you saying that as my boss, and you need me to stay until the tour ends? Or are you saying that as my friend?”

“The tour isn’t over yet. There are two more days.”

Disappointment slammed her so hard it left her gasping for air. “Bex, I think you know I have feelings for you. I can’t go back to being your assistant, and I need a job. I need to start my future. And since you don’t want me to be your rebound, then I guess my future isn’t with you.”

“You heard my conversation with Mary.”

“Yes. I came back to the bus to get my luggage, and you guys were talking. Now, please, just leave my suitcase outside the bus.” She took a shaky breath. “Goodbye, Bex.” She disconnected.

She’d never felt so lost and alone in her life.

Not one second later, her phone buzzed.

Bex: Stay where you are. I’m coming with your purse and your luggage.

CHAPTER TEN

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick.

Della awakened to a splitting headache. The throbbing in her head beat in rhythm with her heart.

She tried to roll onto her back but a dead weight across her chest pinned her down.

What the hell? Alarm rang through her body, but her eyes were glued shut, so she couldn’t open them to see where she was.

Wait, what’s wrong with my eyes? The moment she forced her mascara-caked lashes open, she shrunk back from the brilliant light framing the closed curtains.

Curtains? Her bunk didn’t have windows.

She sat bolt upright, dislodging the weight.

I’m not on the bus.

When she turned to take in the room, liquid sloshed in her brain.

Oh, God. Her stomach roiled and bile shot to the back of her throat. Snatching her phone, she raced into the bathroom and shut the door.

When she caught her reflection in the massive mirror, she wanted to die. Crazy hair sticking out in chunks at all angles, mascara smeared, and…was her skin green?

What happened last night? She forced herself to think, to remember, but it was all a big blank.

Okay, get a hold of yourself and think.

Think. Come on.

Nothing. Just the ticking in her head, roiling nausea, and the kind of foggy mind that only comes from blacking out.

Okay, first things first. Who’s in that bed?

Well, a man, obviously. Because she could recall the hair on that muscular arm slung across her chest. But…which man?

The memory of crouching on the stairs and listening to Bex and Mary-Therese’s conversation rocketed through her.

I yearn for her every second I’m not with her.

She closed her eyes and let it sink in.

Bex yearns for me.

She almost melted into a green-tinged puddle, but then she remembered what he’d said next. I won’t let her be my rebound.

For the second time, loss crashed over her.

She’d finally found her soulmate…and she couldn’t have him.

So, who did I have last night?

Did I have sex? She glanced down at her naked body.

She wasn’t sore anywhere. It had been long enough since she’d been with a man that she’d definitely feel it if she had.

In her entire life, she’d never drunk so much she’d blacked out.

Reaching for the robe hanging on a hook on the back of the door, she noticed a sparkle on her finger.

A wedding ring.

Plain as day, a platinum and diamond ring glittered on her finger.

Shock ripped through her.

Who the hell did I marry?

Without even thinking, she called Micky. As the phone rang, she stepped into the shower stall and closed the door.

“Hey, girl. What’s up?” Her friend sounded cheerful.

Of course, Micky was living the dream. She had her ideal job running events for a magical ski resort, she’d found the love of her life, was having a baby with him, and they were building their first home together.

Even though it had started with a pregnancy after her first hookup, it had turned out all right.

Della had to remember that. Eventually, her life would turn out all right, too.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against the cool tile wall. “I’m married.”

“You’re what? What’re you talking about?”

“I don’t have a single clue how I wound up like this. I was just going home to start a business…and now…” She couldn’t talk about what happened with the band or Bex, and that sucked. She had to keep it to herself. “Now, it seems I got black-out drunk in Vegas and woke up with a wedding ring and a strange man next to me.”

“Wait a minute. Back up. What happened last night? Who’d you go out with?”

“I don’t remember.” She whispered it, but the sound was rough as gravel.

“Sweetie, I’m here for you. No matter what’s happened, we can fix this, but let’s try and fill in the blanks. What’s the last thing you remember?”

And again, she was limited in what she could share. “My job ended last night.”

“In Vegas? I thought the tour finishes in LA?”

“They don’t need me anymore.”

“Did something happen?”

The weight of secrets made her bones ache. “Well, they live in LA, so they only needed me on the road.”

“Got it. Okay, so you’re in Vegas. Did you go out with the crew?”

“The last thing I remember is arranging for someone to bring me my luggage.” Bex. “I was going to catch a flight home in the morning.” I would’ve been on an airplane headed home if I hadn’t gotten drunk with someone.

Did I wait for Bex?

Did he bring my luggage?

Had she married him?

A tiny thrill shot through her at the idea she’d married the guy whose posters she’d hung on her bedroom walls.

“Well, looking at your Splashagram page, I can see you were at the Bellagio hotel last night at one in the morning. I can’t see if you’re with anyone because it’s a video of the fountain.”

“I was alone then.” Did Bex bring me my luggage? Or did he get a roadie to do it? “Unfortunately, I can’t give you a lot of details.”

“Right. NDA. Give me what you can. Let’s work with what we’ve got.”

She loved her friend. Micky was the best person in the world. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.”

“I love you, too, sweetie. Don’t forget you were there for me every step of the way when I found out I was pregnant with a stranger’s baby.”

“The love of your life disguised as a stranger.”

“Yeah, that. Now, talk to me.”

Where could she start? Her friend didn’t know about the twins. Didn’t know Bex had a long-term girlfriend. Neither did I, the fucker. Didn’t know the band had broken up.

“Shit went down last night, so I gave them their space and wandered around Vegas. I’d left my purse and wallet on the bus, so I was stranded.”

“Stop.” Micky exhaled into the receiver. “You were stranded in Las Vegas?”

“No, I know. I was going to call you.”

“Oh, no, bitch. You hear me loud and clear. You are never stranded. Do you understand what I’m telling you? I don’t care where you are. I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of giving birth. You do not walk this Earth alone. I am always here. You don’t have a wallet in Vegas, you call me immediately. You don’t wait to see what might happen. You call me, and I make sure you have a hotel room, food in your belly, a person to talk to, and a plane ticket home. You get me?”

“I totally get you.” Della straightened. “I should’ve called you.” The effort to stand wiped her out, so she slumped again. “But I didn’t. So, here I am.”

“Okay, you were stranded, and then what happened?”

“I just don’t remember.” She tried to bring the hazy images into focus. Someone had brought her purse. Was it a man or a woman? “I know we got a drink.” She had a faint image of a packed bar, lots of laughter. A soaring feeling of happiness. “Well, lots of drinks.” Come on, think. Zero-in on the face of the person you’re talking to. “I’m too hungover to remember anything else. My brain feels soggy.”

“Where are you right now?”

She glanced at the crystal chandelier, twin vanity units, and matching standing bathtubs. “A very fancy hotel.”

“And what are you wearing?”

“Under this robe, I’m butt naked.”

A memory hit. She was storming away from Bex, unstable on her heels. He grabbed her arm, yanked her to him, and kissed her.

Excitement burst in her chest.

His arms had banded around her, his hands flat on her back, holding her tightly. He’d held her with a need so powerful it shook her even then, hungover in the shower stall of a hotel.

And that kiss. God. He’d been shaking. There’d been a moment when she’d pulled away—scared of what was happening—and they’d just stared into each other’s eyes. She’d wanted him so badly her body had gone hot and liquid.

When they’d kissed again, she’d burst into flames.

“Della?” Micky asked softly. “Are you okay?”

“I kissed him. Van.” Micky didn’t know about Bex.

“You—wait, so you married your boss?”

For one moment, she believed it was true. And it was the most glorious moment of her life.

But then she remembered. “No. It’s not him.” Because she’d slapped him.

She’d slapped Bex right there in the middle of a fancy bar at the Bellagio.

And then, she’d stormed out.

“I left him. And I don’t remember anything after that.”

“Okay, first things first. You need to get your clothes and get out of there. Meanwhile, I’m going to grab my laptop. Because if one party can file for an annulment in Vegas, then this is all just one bad night.”

“Yeah, okay. I feel like a bus plowed over me, but I’m awake now.” She got up. “I’ll get my stuff.” And stepped out of the stall.

“Okay, we’ve got some good news. There’s a ‘spur of the moment’ category. It says the most likely grounds would be a lack of understanding that rendered a party incapable of consent.”

“That would be me. Drunk as a skunk.”

“This has to be pretty common in Vegas.”

Della looked at the ring. “Kind of hard to prove a lack of understanding with this door stopper I’m wearing.”

“It’s a real diamond?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Let me see.”

“Hang on.” Della opened the camera app and took a picture of her shaky hand. She sent it via text message.

“Holy shit.”

“Right?”

“Did you marry a sheik?” Micky asked. “A billionaire cowboy?”

“If only this was one of the romances I read, I’d wind up with a happily ever after.”

“Well, I don’t know how you’re going to run out on a man who spent that kind of money on you. Not without a please and thank you. Did you at least get a new wardrobe to go with it?”

Della laughed. “Right? I’ll have the manager look at the video feed, see if he can find me in the swanky boutiques waving my new husband’s platinum American Express card.”

“You sound a hundred times better. Now, get a move on. First, we need to get you dressed. Second, you need your wallet. After that, we’ll deal with the situation one step at a time.”

“Yeah, okay.” Quietly padding across the cold tile, she opened the door. In the dim lighting, she could see her bra and panties on the ottoman.

And a massive cloud of tulle.

“There’s a wedding dress on the floor,” she whispered.

“Shh. Don’t wake him up.”

She glanced at the bed, but the person was hidden under a fluffy mound of pillows and down. “I can’t see him at all. Not even his hair color.”

“His clothes, though? Do you see an expensive suit?”

“No, but I see my purse.”

“Get it.”

“It’s on the other side of the bed.”

“You are never getting black-out drunk again.”

“No kidding.”

“Get the purse,” Micky said. “Go.”

“Fine, but I have to get off the phone, or I’ll wake him up.” Della knew how to have a good time, but she’d never gotten herself into this kind of trouble before.

“Call me as soon as you’re out of there.”

“I will.” Disconnecting, she slid the phone into the pocket of the terry cloth robe. As she tiptoed across the room, she couldn’t even hear him breathing.

What if he’s dead?

Oh, my God. What if he’s an older man, and I shagged him so hard he had a heart attack and died?

This is bad. This is so bad.

Shit. If he’s dead, I can’t leave.

I have to report it.

Fuck my life.

Okay, this is ridiculous. I’m not sneaking out like a thief in the night. She’d wake him up, and they’d laugh about the whole situation. She’d give back the ring, and they’d get an annulment.

Right. Good.

But I’m not doing anything until I have underwear on. Daylight glowed on the other side of the parted curtains, and in the path of that brilliant shaft of light lay a sparkling stiletto.

Whoa. That’s gorgeous. Blush pink satin with a six-inch heel, the entire sandal was covered in shimmering crystals.

Is that mine?

How could she have had her fantasy shopping excursion and not remember a single thing about it?

I’m never drinking again.

She tiptoed over and picked it up. This is totally my size.

I’ll happily return the ring, but can I keep the shoes?

Plucking her lacey boy shorts off the ottoman, she slipped them on. To put on her bra, though, she’d have to drop the robe. That left her exposed and vulnerable.

Do it fast.

Her skin pebbled from the cold, but she quickly got her bra on, lifting her breasts to fit in the cups. Good. Now, the purse. But on her way over, she tripped on the other stiletto, releasing an oof sound.

A rustle of bedding nearly had her jumping out of her skin.

Shit. Fuck.

She froze.

The stranger hitched up on elbow, blinking against the shaft of sunlight streaking across the room.

Only it wasn’t a stranger.

“Della?” His sleep-roughened voice was every bit as sexy as his singing voice.

“Bex?”

“What’s going on?” Sitting up, he shoved the bedding away, exposing his tan, inked, and muscled chest.

Her gaze lingered a little too long because good god was that a sexy body.

“Where are we?” Once he realized it was a hotel suite, he jolted up. His tousled hair and confused expression made her heart flip over. He was adorable and gorgeous and—

My husband.

“Talk to me.” He sounded urgent…but not angry.

“Well, I have good news and a teeny bit of bad news.”

“What’s the good news?”

“You bought me the most badass shoes I’ve ever owned in my life.”

That didn’t clear the confusion for him at all. “We went shopping?”

“Oh, yeah.” She went around the bed and picked up the wedding gown. It was heavier than she’d expected. On closer inspection, she could see it was encrusted in crystals.

“Is that a wedding gown?” He sounded stunned.

“Yes.”

“Fuck.” His features crumpled. “So, the bad news is—”

“We’re married.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

As Della breezed past the reception desk, she wrapped the collar more tightly over her chest. “Please charge this to room 2112.”

It looked like the woman behind the desk had her finger on a security alert button. “Uh…”

“Don’t worry. He can afford it.” Della strutted out of the Bellagio Hotel in a robe and her crystal-studded stilettos. She was keeping them.

She’d tossed the ring at him.

The early morning sunlight hurt her eyes, the hammering in her head threatened to split it wide open, and she was done.

Done with the entire Van Claybourne clusterfuck experience.

Seeking out shade, she pulled her phone out of her purse and called Martin.

She wasn’t surprised when he answered on the first ring. “I heard.”

“Which juicy bit did you hear exactly? Because there’s a lot.” Though she doubted he’d heard about their marriage.

Because she’d been too drunk to sign a prenup, and Martin would be a lot more worked up than he sounded right now.

“I heard about last night. In the chapel.”

“Right, so now that the band’s broken up, I’d like a ticket home, please. I need to get back to normal people.”

“They didn’t break up. Musicians do this all the time. They’re at the end of a nine-month North American tour. They’re burned out.”

The scent of bacon overwhelmed her, and her stomach revolted. Where the hell is that smell coming from? She twisted around to find she was standing next to a vent. “Has Van Claybourne ever done this before?”

“No, but that just means they’re overdue.”

She headed toward the fountain, finding shade under a tree. “Look, I don’t think this job’s for me, so I want to--”

“This job’s perfect for you. You’re the best PA Bex has ever had.”

I’d rather be the best lover he’s ever had. Too bad neither of them remembered having sex. “Be that as it may, I’m tendering my resignation. Now, I’m asking you to book me a flight to Scottsdale this morning.”

“Della, there’s no need to quit.” He sounded alarmed. “Trust me, they’re not anywhere near over. They’re the biggest band in the world.”

Hilariously, he thought the problem was about the group disbanding.

Let him think what he wanted. The end result was the same. “You weren’t there. You didn’t hear them. Van’s done. He’s not happy. And I’m pretty sure they have enough money that they never have to work again.”

“It’s not like that. When you’ve got this kind of fame, you can’t go back to obscurity. Their egos get inflated. I see it happen every day. These guys decide they’ve made enough money, they’re tired of the lifestyle, so they quit. But give them a couple of months of grocery shopping, calling the plumber, and getting the car detailed, and they can’t stand their boring, ordinary lives. They beg for the next gig.”

“Okay, so in three months call me and ask if I want my job back. But right now, there’s nothing for me to do.”

“How about if I give you a bonus?”

“Pass.”

“Don’t you need more money to start your business?”

It wouldn’t hurt. It would take a while before she made a profit. “I’m good.” But it didn’t matter. She’d confessed her feelings to Bex.

There’s no coming back from that.

Worse, the first thing he’d said after finding out they’d gotten married was, I have to remind you about the NDA.

The fucker had brought up the non-disclosure agreement.

That had been the last straw. She’d thrown the ring at him, grabbed her purse, and stormed out.

Not only didn’t he trust her, but he cared more about his band’s reputation than her. He didn’t ask how she was or even try to remember what had gone down last night.

He didn’t hold me and tell me we’re in this together.

Which was all she’d really wanted in that moment.

Now that she’d left the room and had some distance, she could see he’d looked pretty shellshocked and extremely hungover, so she wasn’t sure his brain had been firing on all cylinders.

“Okay, I’m going to offer you two options,” Martin said. “The choice is entirely yours.”

“I’m listening.”

“Either way, you’ll meet the driver out front at eleven AM, and he’ll take you to the airport.”

Disappointment rained down on her in hard, cold pellets.

This is real.

It’s over.

I’m going home.

That beautiful fantasy of meeting Van Claybourne and discovering they were soulmates had gotten her through the hardest times of her life. It was the light at the end of the tunnel that kept her moving toward a promise of true fulfillment.

And now it was over.

“And then you’ll either tell the pilot you’re going to Arizona or…to the Maldives where you’ll spend an all-expenses paid week in an overwater bungalow.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“The wedding’s called off, but the honeymoon’s still booked.”

“I’m not going on Bex’s honeymoon.”

“It’s all paid for. Why not? You’ve just spent six months cleaning hotel rooms and three days working your ass off for the band. Why not take a free vacation?”

Yeah, Della. Why not? “Because it’s not right. Mary-Therese is devastated. Her life just blew up. I can’t take her honeymoon.”

“Mary’s upset because she doesn’t like change, not that she broke up with Bex.”

“What does any of this matter if the guys are done?”

“They’re not done.”

“Martin, you weren’t there. Van was dead serious. It’s over.”

“You know how many times the bands I work with break up? My job title should be therapist, not manager. Trust me, they’ll take a break, and they’ll be back. In the meantime, we’re not going to lose the best assistant we’ve ever had. Take the trip. By the time you get back, we’ll have a plan to move forward.”

“I don’t know.” She’d slept with Bex—I think…I mean, we were both naked. She’d married him—how did she go back from that? “Are you sure?”

Then again, since neither of us remembers anything, how bad can it be?

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I weren’t. Look, Van’s got to finish out the tour, and you can either sip fruity cocktails on a chaise lounge a couple yards from the ocean or start apartment hunting in Bixby, Arizona.”

“You make a good point.”

The plane jolted, pulling Della out of a deep sleep. Her eyes burned, her body felt sluggish, and her mouth tasted like someone had stuffed a gym sock in there.

But the narrow landing strip was surrounded by turquoise water, the sun was shining, and she couldn’t think of a better place in the world to recover from the past three days.

“Good morning.” Using tongs, the flight attendant lifted a rolled warm towel off a silver platter. “Welcome to paradise.”

“Thank you.” Della read the embroidered patch on his shirt. “Arnie.” She dabbed under her eyes in case she had mascara flecks and wiped her hands. “Can I freshen up first?”

He shot a quick glance toward the back of the plane. “You? You’re stunning. And I’m afraid the bathroom’s in use. How about you use the one in the terminal? When you’re ready, the driver will be waiting for you with your luggage.”

“I hope that when I turn back into a pumpkin, I can remember how to do things for myself.”

Grinning, Arnie glanced down at her crystal-encrusted stilettos. “Looks like you don’t need a Prince Charming. You’re badass from your sexy hair down to your stunning Aquazzura’s.”

“You know the brand of my shoes?” How expensive were these things?

He chuckled. “You’re adorable. Enjoy your vacation.”

“You bet I will.” Della stood, still groggy, but no longer hungover after the twenty-hour flight. Since she’d packed for winter in a ski village, Martin had told her to buy whatever swimsuits, coverups, flip flops, and sundresses she needed at the resort and to charge everything to the room.

This’ll be fun.

She wouldn’t take advantage of his generosity, but she did need a few things. Reaching for her purse, she heard Arnie say, “Good morning, sir. Can I get you a coffee before you go?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

That voice.

Bex.

This is not happening.

Of course, he looked adorably rumpled. And it made her unreasonably angry. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He snapped to full alertness. “Della?” He had a thrill in his eyes as he stalked towards her. “I thought you were going home.”

“Martin told me to come here while he fixed the band. He said the trip was prepaid, and it was a shame for it to go to waste.”

He stood in front of her, his cheek creased from sleep, his hair tangled on the right side. “It’s not going to waste. I need a break.” He looked so relieved to see her, like she was his long-lost love.

And, oh God, there it was, that crazy energy between them. The heat, the attraction…it was too much. He was too much.

“I’m sorry.” She sounded like she’d run a race, all breathy and gasping. “Martin said you’d be in LA finishing the tour.”

“Yeah, it’s probably what I should have done. But Van doesn’t need me for two nights, so I’m taking a week off.”

“I’m so sorry. Look, I hope you know this wasn’t my idea. Martin wanted to keep me on the payroll until the band figured out what it was doing, so he sent me here in the meantime. But it’s not a problem. I’ll call him, and I’ll go home as I originally planned.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Of course, it is. I’m standing on a private jet.”

“It took over twenty hours to get here. The crew can’t just turn around and fly back on no sleep.”

“Fine, I’ll spend a night or two at the resort. But don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“It won’t really matter, will it? You’ll still be here.”

Oh, that stung. “Trust me, I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re here, Della.” He rapped his knuckles against his head. “And here.” He patted his chest, right over his heart.

“Oh. I…you know what? You make no sense, and I’m tired of the hot and cold routine. I’m going.”

“Where are you going to stay?”

“I’ll get a room.”

“It’s a private island. The resort only has twenty-five suites. Martin’s assistant only got one because someone cancelled at the last minute.”

“Then, I’ll sleep on the fucking plane. This is not my fault.”

His nostrils flared, and his gaze drifted to her mouth. “I’m not blaming you. I’m perfectly capable of grasping the misunderstanding. I just…fuck. I need to get right in my head, and I don’t think I can do that when you’re around.”

“Fuck you, Bex. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

He grabbed her, his arm banding around her back, and hauling her up hard against his chest. “You’re a liar. You asked everything from me, and I gave it to you. I gave you so much that I wound up losing everything.”

The heat from his body blazed through her, and his scent—clean cotton, soap, and his potent masculinity—melted her into a puddle of lust. So, she pushed him away. “If you could lose it so easily, then you didn’t have much of anything at all.” She turned to get the hell off the plane.

“Della, stop. Look, I’m sorry about what happened in the hotel.” He closed his eyes and let out a harsh breath. “I don’t normally drink, and I have a low tolerance anyway, so I don’t know what happened the other night. I…” He shook his head.

She softened toward him—but only a little. “I don’t remember, either. But I’ll tell you what. My first thought wasn’t about a damn NDA.”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “Ten years…it’s automatic.”

“I’m sure you’ve had paternity suits and all kinds of wild stalker fans…but I’m not any of them. I’m…me. And I thought there was something here.” She wagged a finger between them. “Even if it’s not some grand romance, I thought we were at least friends. And to hit me with the contract after waking up with a wedding ring on my finger…it made me feel like just another crazed fan.”

“I never want you to feel that. Della, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was exactly what I needed to put things into perspective.” Hitching her purse on her shoulder, she headed off the jet into the sultry weather. She breathed in the saltwater-air and let the warm breeze fluttering across her skin soothe her. Immediately, she began to relax.

It was never meant to be with Bex. She’d just gotten carried away with the two of them stuck on a bus every day. As long as she ignored the pinch of disappointment and hurt, she’d be just fine.

It had only been a few days, after all.

Once inside the terminal, she pulled out her phone and dialed Martin. He’d take care of everything. Even if she had to sleep on the plane, she’d be out of here tomorrow and heading back to real life.

What time was it, though, in LA? She had no clue, and her internal clock had gone haywire. Not only had she gotten black-out drunk, but she’d jumped across multiple time zones.

She’d leave a message with his assistant. “Hey, this is Della. Martin arranged for me to take the jet to the Maldives because he thought the guys would finish out the tour, but it turns out Bex slept on the plane last night. So, I really need to get out of here as soon as possible. Can you arrange that? Call and let me know.” She disconnected.

“It’s booked.” That deep voice startled her.

“The resort?” She turned to face a sleepy, gorgeous rock star.

“Yeah. I just checked.”

“Well, I’ll take a boat to another island.”

“No, it’s all right. You can stay in my room.”

“You want me to stay in the honeymoon suite?”

“It’s only for a night or two.” He acted like they were resigned to this horrible fate, and yet he forgot that she knew him—and recognized the fire in his eyes. His brain might be telling him this situation was bad, but he wanted her around.

So what? I don’t want to be near him. “I mean, does it have two bedrooms?” It hurt too much.

“No idea. I didn’t book it. Martin’s assistant did.” He shifted his leather overnight bag to his other hand. “So, what do you want to do? Arrange for a boat to take you to another island, then get a cab and try to find a hotel? Or crash in my room right now and order room service later? I’m pretty sure a massage comes with the suite.”

“I’m dead on my feet, so I’d like to pick the second option, but you literally just told me you need some time alone. Your entire life has flipped upside down.”

“And if this is the view from upside down, then I couldn’t ask for anything better.” He didn’t smile, but his words warmed her down to her bones.

Desire stirred, but she did her best to shake it off. She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, but don’t get any ideas in your head. If sex with you was that forgettable, it’s not happening again.”

He stared at her for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Della dropped her purse onto the floor.

The honeymoon villa was spectacular. With the living area flowing seamlessly onto the sundeck, the infinity pool seemed part of the interior space. The teak terrace held a rocking love seat, a fire pit, and a Jacuzzi.

The red rose petals scattered across the pristine white bedding stood out against the turquoise and white color scheme.

Behind her, Bex chatted with the butler assigned to their suite, but the gentle shoosh of the waves and the delicate fragrance of exotic flowers drifting in on a soft breeze lulled her. Her body longed to collapse on that fluffy comforter.

A moment later, the door closed, and a hand cupped her elbow. The salt water and frangipani scents got replaced by the clean cotton of the man who’d become so dear to her. “You look like you’re going to fall asleep standing up. Go on and take the bed.”

“No, no. It’s your room.”

“Laki said he’ll let us know if anyone cancels. In the meantime, I’ll take the hammock on the deck.”

“Oh, my God. Van Claybourne’s not sleeping on the porch of his honeymoon suite.”

He leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear. “If I thought you could keep your hands off me, I’d say we could share the bed.”

“Oh, shut up.” She gave him a gentle shove. “I don’t even know if we had sex.”

He turned away, heading into the bathroom.

She followed him into the cool stone, open-air space. “You might’ve been such a dud in bed that I fell asleep before we did the dirty.”

He chuckled. “More likely I made you come so hard you passed out.”

“Well, I do like that scenario better.” She waited patiently while he washed his hands and face. “You know we have to talk about it at some point, right?”

He dried himself with a hand towel. “Della, if I don’t remember anything, I seriously doubt we had sex.”

“It could have happened.”

“Well, I looked for a condom but didn’t see any.”

Oh, thank God. That was the missing piece of information. “We were too drunk to think about protection, but the good news is that I didn’t have any evidence of sex.”

It took him a moment, but he got it. “Well, there you go. We didn’t do the ‘dirty.’”

“So, now we can stop being weird around each other.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He reached for the top button of his jeans. “I’m going to change and go for a swim.”

“Okay. I’ll just…I’m going to nap.” She hurried back to the bedroom to find Laki had set her suitcase on a valet stand and unpacked her clothes.

“I’m coming out now,” Bex called.

“Okay?” Why the announcement—

Oh. He came out sporting nothing but a semi.

“Bex. What’re you doing?”

He chuckled. “There’s a swimming pool in my living room. I’m getting in it.” Barely giving her a moment to appreciate all those muscles and that smooth, tan skin, he walked right into the water.

She stood there, listening to his gentle splashes. A moment later, he issued a serene, “Ah.”

“I’m over here closing my eyes for a little bit. You might want to keep it down.” He floated on his back, his semi-hard cock right above the water line. “Oh, my God. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ignoring her, he did an easy backstroke until he hit the edge of the infinity pool. Lowering his legs, he swiveled around to take in the stunning view.

Admittedly, he seemed to be handling this whole situation much better than she was. And he was the one with the most upheaval in his life.

So, maybe, get over yourself?

Well, she wasn’t tired anymore, and that water sure looked appealing. Martin had said she could buy a few things and charge them to the room. “Hey—” But she stopped herself from telling him where she was going. He needed time on his own, so she’d leave him be.

Grabbing her purse off the floor, she headed for the door.

She glanced back to see his arms spread out along the rim of the pool, hair slicked back, droplets of water on his broad shoulders, gazing out to the turquoise ocean.

This is going to be the hardest couple of days in my life, being so close and yet not being able to touch him or talk to him the way we did on the bus.

She hoped like hell someone else canceled, so she could have her own room.

“Finally,” Micky said. “I was freaking out. All my calls went right to voicemail.”

In her new swimsuit, Della lay on a chaise lounge by the pool. Lush landscaping, private little huts, and the gentle rush of a waterfall made for the most relaxing environment she’d ever experienced. “Sorry. I’m in the Maldives and only just now got a travel pass for my phone.”

“The Maldives. What is your life right now?”

“I know, right? It’s unreal.”

“Are you alone?”

“Right this minute, yes. But…I’m sharing a room with Van.”

Just as Micky started to shriek, Della cut her off. “But only because the resort is sold out.”

“Uh huh. That’s totally normal. Happens all the time. Spill it, girl. I might be a million miles away and can’t see your face, but I know you. What’s going on with you and the rock god?”

She wanted to spill the whole story so badly. “There’s so much I want to tell you but because of the NDA, I can’t.”

“But you can tell me how you feel, so let’s start with that.”

“Oh, my God, Micky. I’m wearing a three-hundred-dollar swimsuit, sunbathing on a private island…I should be in heaven.”

“But?”

“But I fell for somebody I can’t have.”

“Oh, honey. He’s so much better than what you’d imagined?”

“So much.”

“And you can’t have him because you work for him?”

Something else she couldn’t explain. “Because he’s not in the right place.”

“I hate to say this, but that’s a textbook response from guys who don’t want to commit.”

“In this case, it’s true.”

“Because of things.”

“Exactly.” The waiter approached, pointing to her empty cocktail glass. Della shook her head.

“Okay, there’s only one solution, and I think you already know it.”

“Unless the solution is to push him down in a chair and shake my lady bits in front of him, I don’t think I do know.”

“You need to come home. It might be paradise, but it’s hell if you’re aching for a man you can’t have. Look, if he wants you, I guarantee he’ll come get you. But waiting and hoping isn’t a plan.”

Della sat up. “You’re one-hundred percent right about that. Whatever his problems are, they’re not something I can help him with.” She got up, slid her feet into her new sandals, and picked up her purse. “I’m going to call the manager and tell him to book me on a commercial flight. I’m coming home.”

And if he wants me, he knows where to find me.

“Is something wrong?” The clerk sorted through the clothing and sandals Della had purchased only hours ago.

“Not at all. I love everything, but there’s been a change in plans. I’m not staying after all.”

Soft music played in the pink and white store, and candles flickered on display tables. Only a few customers browsed the limited selection.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She glanced at the receipt. “So, you’re basically returning everything?”

“I wore the swimsuit, coverup, and flipflops, so I’m keeping those. Oh, and the sunscreen.”

“All right. Give me a minute to—”

“Della,” Bex called.

Or at least it sounded like Bex. The man who came rushing into the store, though, had a moustache, hat, and sunglasses. She almost burst out laughing. It was his lamest disguise.

But he looked frazzled, and that was unlike the very composed and even-tempered man she’d come to know.

He raced right up to her. “What’re you doing? I’ve looked everywhere for you. Did you leave your phone on the plane?”

“No, I have it. I’ve just been…relaxing.”

He took in the situation. “You’re getting all this?”

“She’s returning it.” The clerk looked to him with a hopeful expression, as if he could change her mind.

He couldn’t. He was the reason she was leaving.

“You want to shop somewhere else? We can take a boat to Malé.”

“No, I’m leaving.” She wanted to see his expression so badly. Did it upset him? Would he fight for her to stay? But it would just give into her weakness.

“I thought you were going to stay a few days?”

“I changed my mind.”

He leaned closer. “Can I talk to you privately, please?”

She sighed. “Sure.”

He set his hand on her purchases. “Hold off on returning these.”

The clerk smiled. “You got it.”

Bex led her out of the store and across the tropical-themed lobby. Her flip flops smacked on the glossy wood floor, sounding cheap compared to the fancy leather sandals everyone else wore. Well, she wasn’t about to spend that kind of money on shoes she’d only wear a few days. That wouldn’t be right.

He took her into the empty business center and shut the door. “I’ve been looking for you for hours.”

“Well, that’s the problem right there. You’re not supposed to be looking for me, let alone thinking about me. Bex, you have serious issues in your life.” She wouldn’t say them out loud in case they were being recorded.

He got that intense expression that always excited her. “If those two issues are the problem, why am I not thinking about them? Why is the only thing on my mind you?”

“I don’t know. Because you’re avoiding the real problems?”

“Della, if I were broken-hearted about Mary, I’d be writing a song right now, but for the first time in my life, I don’t need to write anything down. I don’t need to work out my feelings because I’m actually clear on what I feel.”

“And what do you feel?”

“Della, I’m crazy about you. And I don’t care if I haven’t known you long enough, or if I just got out of a relationship. The only thing that matters is that I didn’t know what love was until I met you.”

The ground opened beneath her feet. Only, instead of plunging into the abyss, she found she had wings. She was soaring. “You love me?”

“I know it’s crazy. I know on the outside it doesn’t make sense. But I do know what’s happening here”—he patted his heart—“is the only thing that matters.” He cupped her elbows. “Yes, Della Swanson. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Oh, thank Christ.” Cupping her cheeks, he pressed those full, sexy lips to hers and gave her a kiss that melted her bones.

She knew every lyric this man had ever written. His catalog of songs had taken her around the emotional globe, but the feelings this kiss aroused were brand new to her. It was as if together, they’d created something new, something richer…something magical.

Love, desire, yearning…everything just crashed over her.

Laughing, she pulled her mouth away, leaving their foreheads touching.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your porn ‘stache tickles. And it makes me feel like I’m kissing someone else.”

He reached for her hand and led the way out. “Let’s pick up your clothes and go back to the room. I have to peel this off, so you know exactly who you’re kissing.”

Fifteen minutes later, Bex flung the door open and practically shoved her inside. His big hands on her ass, he lifted her, pressing her against the wall. She dropped the bags and wrapped her arms and legs around him.

His scent drove her wild, and the way he kissed—like he needed to devour her whole—took her to a place she’d never been before. A place of heat and desire, a place that promised bliss.

He bent his knees, surging up between her legs, slotting his hard cock into the place she needed him most. She let out a gasp, clinging to him, afraid to believe it was real. Afraid once they broke the sexual tension, he’d wake up and realize she was nothing but a rebound after all.

Because now that she’d had a glimpse of something this perfect, she didn’t know how she’d survive the loss.

“Hey.” He lowered her to the floor, running his fingers through her hair with a firm tug. “Where’d you go?”

“What? I’m right here.” She tried to pull him back.

But he shook his head. “Don’t do that. That’s not what we are. We talk to each other.”

What could she say to that? He was absolutely right. And that’s how she wanted them to be. She needed it. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“I said—”

“Yeah, I heard you. But that’s not what I’m talking about. We have chemistry. We’re attracted to each other, but once we get the sex over with, I don’t want you to realize that what you really need is time to come to terms with a life without Mary.”

“Get it over with? The way I want you—a lifetime together won’t be enough. Della, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, and if that makes me a piece of shit after standing at the altar forty-eight hours ago, then I’ll own it. But I don’t miss Mary. She’s not even on my mind. We never had those kinds of feelings, and I can guarantee she’s not nursing a broken heart right now. I know I said I didn’t want you to be my rebound, but that was before I had time to think, to see things clearly.”

But was he thinking with his heart or his dick? She trembled with the uncertainty.

Intentions clear, he prowled toward her. “And right now? I’m not thinking about the band, and I’m definitely not missing a relationship that was little more than friendship. So, unless you don’t want this, I’d suggest you take off that…” He flicked a hand at her coverup. “Thing that’s keeping me from getting my hands all over you.”

Desire flashed through her, and she reached down to gather the fabric of the white eyelet dress. Giving him a sultry look, she slowly lifted it, swaying her hips, and pulling it over her head. Knowing that she was going to do this—gamble her heart for the hope of having all her dreams come true—she sent it flying.

But even though this bikini was built to showcase a body like hers, his gaze never left hers. “You make me feel alive.” Intensity raged like a wildfire in his eyes. “All my life I’ve been part of a machine—my family, my road crew, our handlers—but you make me feel like myself for the first time.”

When her hands went behind her back to unclasp the top, he looked barely unleashed, like a lion waiting to pounce.

“No one’s ever wanted me the way you do.” When he didn’t seem to hear, she asked, “Bex? You still with me?”

Color crept into his cheeks. “Sorry but seeing you in this bikini cleaned out the entire cache of memories since birth.”

She smiled. She didn’t think she’d ever been happier than in this moment. Still, she hesitated to expose her naked body to him. “Promise you’re not going to regret this in the morning?”

“I fucking guarantee it.” His gaze flicked up to hers, dead serious. “For a man who writes about feelings for a living, I’ve failed in the worst way possible because I haven’t paid attention to my own. I write about love, but if you really listen—”

“I do. I’ve heard every word. You write about the love you don’t have. A love so elusive you don’t understand why your muse keeps pushing you to write about it.”

“I didn’t realize that until I met you, but yes, that’s right. Della, the first time I laid eyes on you, I was looking out the window of the bus. I saw this sassy blonde talking to Martin, and I just…it was like I recognized you.”

Is this real? Is he really saying this? Her pulse fluttered wildly in her throat.

“There’s this moment in a song called a fermata. It’s when you pause, when there’s nothing but silence. And that’s what happened to me when I saw you. The engine of my life stopped, and I was so completely in that moment, watching you laugh, the spark of intelligence in your eyes, your independence…it rocked my world.”

Her body couldn’t contain all this happiness, this desire…this need.

He stood before her, an imploring look in his eyes. “You rocked my world. And now that I have you in my life, I’ll be damned if I’m going back. So, if you’re wondering why I’m not thinking about the band or my ex, it’s because this moment with you is what I’ve been waiting for, and the only thing that can stop me from taking it is if you tell me no.”

She believed him. She wanted him. And she’d never been more scared in her life. “Bex?”

“Yes.”

She dropped the bikini top and stood naked before him. Looking like he’d been given the greatest gift, he leaned in, pressing his mouth lightly over hers. Feathery kisses, one after another, trailing to her cheek and down the column of her neck. He cupped her breasts in his big, warm hands—never breaking the rhythm of his whispered kisses.

Her skin pebbled, her nipples hardened painfully, as his mouth dipped into her cleavage. When his thumbs flicked gently over the sensitive buds, she arched her back, desire ripping through her.

His hot mouth closed over one peak, and he suckled while his tongue licked slow circles. Her legs trembled from the rush of sensations, and she locked her knees to keep upright.

Palms skimming down her back, he clutched her ass, lifting her. He carried her over to the bed where she was enveloped in the scent of rose petals. Stretching out beside her, his gaze swept from her eyes to her mouth, lingering there before wandering down to her breasts and the trimmed thatch of hair between her legs. Finally, it drifted all the way down to her red-painted toes.

Hand on the back of his neck, she brought him closer and kissed him. Letting him know with her tongue and her hands how much she wanted him. “Is this a dream? I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

“Neither have I.” He swooped back in and claimed her mouth.

Fear hovered on the periphery of her pleasure, making it impossible to sink all the way in.

Why? What are you so afraid of?

But she knew. It was so good with him—too good. It could be snatched away at any moment.

And that’s it right there. Exactly what Bex had told her. That the loss of her mom had shattered her ability to trust.

I want to trust him.

And if I don’t…if I let fear guide me, I might lose him.

Oh, God. No. No, no, no. She couldn’t lose him.

Fear only has a body if I breathe life into it. And I choose to live in this moment right now when the man of my dreams, my soulmate, is loving me.

She didn’t realize how tentatively she’d been kissing him until she let herself go. And when he moaned, it filled her with so much joy. It broke the chains, freeing her.

“There you are,” he murmured. “Give me all of you, Della. Every single bit of who you are.” Her response seemed to be the key to unlock him because his tentative caress turned urgent. He possessed her mouth, captured her breast, and his hand claimed every inch of her hot skin as he stroked his way down her stomach, his fingers dipping between her legs and parting her curls.

When he stroked inside her, sensation sizzled through her body. Her back arched, and her hands clutched the back of his head. “Bex.”

Dropping to his knees, he grabbed her ankles, lifted them to his shoulders, and licked between her legs. When he found her clit, every cell in her body burst into Technicolor, electrifying her. He kissed her most sensitive core as lustfully as he did her mouth, making her hips writhe. When his tongue swirled around her sensitive nub, she arched off the bed, gasping, moaning, completely lost in erotic sensation.

“Oh, my God. Oh.” Lost in his touch, his growly voice, the urgent grip of his hands, she never wanted this luscious, rising tension to ever break.

But there was nothing she could do. She was at the mercy of his relentless pursuit of her pleasure. She exploded, toppling into that indescribable space of erotic euphoria. One climax tripped the next, a series of tiny explosions lighting up her nerve-endings, until her body finally collapsed, spent, onto the mattress.

She didn’t have a moment to catch her breath, as Bex hauled her up the bed, nestled her head onto a pillow, and kneed her thighs open. Gazing down on her with reverence, he gripped his cock and nudged her opening.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered. “That I get to make love to you.”

Disappointment crashed over his features, and he pulled away. “I’m Bex, Della. You need to get that. I’m not—”

“I know exactly who you are.” She sat up, cupping his cheeks. “I’ve felt you deep inside me all my life—the missing part of me. And you can bet your ass I recognized you the moment I met you. Now, let me marvel in it.” She took in the mouth still shiny from his kisses, his broad shoulders, and all that gorgeous ink. When her gaze dropped to his cock, a surge of desire set her blood burning. She grasped him. “God, you’re hot. I can’t even—” Her breath hitched in her throat. “I want to taste you.”

“Fuck, Dell.” When he got up on his knees, she lay back down, and he straddled her chest. His big hand fisted himself as he guided his cock to her mouth. He painted her lips with the tip, pulling away when she opened for him. “You want it?” he teased.

Laughing, she batted his hand away. “I’ve been fantasizing about tasting you for days. Now, come on and fuck my mouth.”

Groaning, he pushed inside, eyes wild and fevered. When she sucked him in, her tongue flicking, his eyes rolled back in his head. He pumped, and she could tell he was restraining himself.

And that wasn’t fun at all. “Lay down.” As they stretched out on their sides, her face to his cock, she licked slow circles around his sensitive head, working him into a frenzy. Then, she slid her wet lips up and down his length, making him slicker and impossibly harder. She loved the way he fisted himself and pushed back inside, watching as her lips closed around him. His hands gripped her head, and he punched his hips to get more friction. He took what he wanted, and he wanted more.

She wanted to give it to him. “Brace, Bexley Sinclair, because I’m about to take you deeper than you’ve ever gone.”

“Promises, promises.” But his voice sounded shaky, and he had a desperate look in his eyes.

She laughed, this feeling of elation taking hold. He watched himself sink back into her mouth, eyebrows rising when she didn’t make him stop, just took him all the way to the back of her throat.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” he said.

She whacked his ass, trying not to laugh.

Growling he pulled out of her mouth and rolled on top of her, kissing her until she was out of her mind with lust. “Tell me you’re on birth control.”

“I am. And I’m clean.”

“Me, too. Thank Christ.” And then he eased inside, filling her in a way she’d never felt before.

Her skin tingled, and it was all just so delicious. “You feel so good.”

Keeping his gaze on her, he thrust in and out, keeping a steady, slow rhythm.

It wound her up, leaving her restless and aching for more. “Faster…harder…God.”

“Not a chance.” A look of bliss softened his features, and his eyelids fluttered closed. “It’s too good.”

He’s right. So, she slowed down, eased back into the moment, and just like that joy spilled in. It’s perfect. Everything about us is perfect. “I love you, Bex Sinclair. I love you so much.” I can’t believe this is real.

But it is.

She could trust it.

Her confession unhinged him because he slid a hand under her ass and flipped her over. She got up on her hands and knees, watching over her shoulder as he thrust back inside, and she loved that he looked like he was about to lose his mind.

Bex drove into her. So hard, she had to stretch her arms out and press her palms flat to the headboard. With a grip on her hips, his fingers found her clit and stroked her into a climax so powerful it shattered every defense, every boundary, and every fear that held her hostage. Lowering her head, she closed her eyes, thrilling at the way he roared, slamming into her again and again in hard, brutal thrusts.

His pumps slowed, his grip loosened, and then he sank onto the mattress beside her. Belting an arm around her waist, he dragged her tightly to his body. “I want this. Forever. You and me.” He sighed. “Nothing better.”

And for the first time, she let herself believe him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Today was perfect.” Della snuggled closer to Bex on the plush love seat.

After arranging spa time in the morning and snorkeling in the afternoon, the butler had prepared an amazing movie night on the beach. He’d set up a screen and filled a table with popcorn, candy, champagne, and lemon ice water. Before the film started, though, they basked in the most stunning sight she’d ever witnessed.

“I’ve seen plenty of sunsets before but nothing like this.” Deep oranges, rich golds, and a blue that was slowly turning purple. “It feels like everything is brighter, sweeter, richer.” She glanced up at him. “I think it’s love.”

Dusk turned his tan skin bronze. “I think so, too.”

Tomorrow, they’d take a boat ride to a private island. “I guess you’re used to fancy resorts and sunset dinners, but it’s all new to me.”

Idly, he sifted his fingers through her hair. “Those things on their own aren’t what make them fun. It’s the person you’re with.” He tipped her chin. “And I only figured that out tonight. I would trade all the fancy cars and superyachts for life on a bus, as long as I get to live on it with you.”

She sat up, slinging a leg across his thighs, straddling him. Driving her fingers through his hair, she rocked on him. “Tell me Laki’s not coming back to refresh our popcorn bowl.”

“I told him I’d text him when we’re back in our room. Until then, this spot of beach is all ours.”

“Then, why are you wearing pants?”

Bex punched his hips, nearly toppling her back, but he held her firmly in place. With his free hand, he yanked down his board shorts, revealing an erection so hard it stood straight up between them. Before she could reach for it, he lifted her gauzy cover up, and she helped him toss it aside.

While he worked the tie of her bikini, he nuzzled her cleavage. Once topless, he gathered her breasts. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck these.”

A shiver traveled down her spine. Well, look at that. There was a whole other side to her man. A dirty one, and she loved it.

He lavished attention on each nipple, making her grab fistfuls of his hair with growing need. “But for now, you need to hop on my cock.”

When she got up on her knees, he untied her bottoms, letting them fall off her. Then, he clamped his hands on her ass, pulled her right up to his face, and licked into her sensitive folds.

Heat blasted through her, and she tipped her head back, catching the last glimpse of the fiery sun before it dipped beneath the horizon. Flames enveloping her, she closed her eyes, immersing herself in the swirling, heightening sensations. A cool breeze whispered across her skin, and she’d never felt more acutely aware of all her senses.

The love of her life licked and kissed her into a frenzy until she was pulling his hair and crying out. “Oh, my fucking God, Bex.” Her orgasm ripped through her, sending her soaring.

His licks turned languorous, like he was doing it for his own pleasure, and he brought her slowly down from the dizzying heights of pleasure.

Finished, he patted his lap. “Climb on. I want to watch your tits bounce while you ride me.”

Heaving out a big, dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Once settled on him, she said, “I guess you save all the sweet talk for your fans.”

“I’ll give you all the pretty words you want. After I come inside you.”

Slowly, she sank down on him. When she hit his thighs, she swayed side-to-side, making sure to take him as deeply as he could go.

He moaned. “You feel so damn good.” His hips rocked, giving her a tease of the friction she needed. “Come on. Bounce on me. Let me watch.”

A slow smile spread across her features, as she braced her hands on his thighs. Her back arched, and she loved the way he watched himself slide in and out of her, his cock glistening in the twilight. As she rode him faster, lust tightened his features.

And when the feelings grew too intense, she straightened, setting her hands on his shoulders, and started riding him hard. His big hands lifted her ass up and down, and he was fixated on the wild jiggling of her breasts.

Color flooded his cheeks, and he tipped his head back. “Holy shit. I’m going to come so fucking hard.” Slamming her down on him, he drove up into her once, twice, three times, fusing their bodies together as he released inside of her.

She was so close, her body wound so tightly, but he’d finished, so she slumped against him.

“Keep going. I got you.” He exhaled into her ear. “Still hard as a rock.”

And so, she did. Hips pitched forward, she rode him, the scrape of him over her clit sending her soaring into a climax that released an explosion of bright, white stars behind her eyelids.

When she came down to earth, she found him watching her with a big smile. “What?”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

As she kissed him, she sifted her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, awash in cool evening breezes and the shush of ocean water dragging on sand. When she pulled away, finally sated, she sighed. “That was perfect. You’re perfect.”

She wanted to stay on this island in a bubble of happiness forever.

Instead of going to bed after the movie, they snuggled in the hammock built for two. The ocean lapped against their porch, and palm trees swayed in the breeze. Their bodies were pressed so tightly together, she couldn’t figure out where she ended, and he began. Idly, she caressed his chest. “Is the band really over?”

He bent his arm, letting his head rest on his hand. “Yes. My brother’s done. You helped us see that.”

“I’m going to be the most hated person in America.”

“Nah, this has been brewing a long time.” His fingertips traced lazy patterns on her back. “We just kept ignoring it. Everyone wants us to keep going, keep pumping out the hits, keep touring, but you’re the first person who’s ever bothered to ask us what we want, if we’re happy. So, yes, now that we’ve discussed it…it’s over.”

“And you’re not sad?”

“Not sad so much as…worried. I’ve never seen myself doing anything else. I don’t know who I am without Van Claybourne.”

“Who you are is the music you write when you’re alone and no one’s listening.”

“No one but you.”

“I know you’re not ready to hear this, but that should be the next phase of your life. Whether you’re performing it or selling it, those songs are Bexley Sinclair, and the world needs them. And Van…I think he’s got real potential as a photographer.”

“Reid,” he said quietly. “That’s his real name.”

“Reid and Bexley Sinclair. So where did Van Claybourne come from?”

“Believe it or not, it’s not related to us at all. We had to come up with something that wouldn’t tie back to our family.”

“Are you kidding me? You pulled a name out of a hat?”

He nodded. “Pretty much.”

“You both must be so tired of pretending and hiding. Well, you’ve made enough money to provide for your family, so no one ever has to work again. You can take a nice, long break and figure out the direction you want to take next.”

He gazed out across the ocean. “I already know what direction I want to take.”

“Oh. You do?”

“I want to be with you.”

Happiness bubbled in her chest. “Well, that’s a given. But you’ve still got to do something other than rocking in a hammock with me on a private island.”

“Why?”

She grinned. “Oh, come on. You couldn’t stop writing songs if you tried.”

“I’m not going back to that life, Della. I can’t do it. It’s not just Van who’s done. I am, too.”

“The next phase of your life doesn’t have to look like this one. You can make an album of your songs. You can tour them. It doesn’t have to be an eight-bus production where you mastermind behind the scenes. You can play small venues instead of stadiums. You can make an album and not tour. It’s your choice. But isn’t it time to come out of the shadows and be the real Bexley Sinclair?”

“This is him. Right here. You get him. Why would you want to share him?”

“I don’t.” And yet she couldn’t shake the sense he was still hiding from his true self.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

She buried her face in his chest. “I told you. I’m going to start an event planning company.”

“But what about your poetry? If I should be playing ballads, shouldn’t you be writing poems?”

“That’s not exactly a lucrative profession.” She said it like it was some big joke. Like, what an idiot she was for majoring in something she couldn’t put to practical use. But really, she was interested to hear his ideas.

“Can I read some of your poetry?”

She rolled onto her back, taking in a sky full of twinkling stars. “The greatest lyricist in the history of music? Not hardly.”

He brushed the hair off her forehead. “I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to let me read them.”

And right then it became clear. They’d both lost a parent. They’d both had their sense of safety in the world shattered.

They wouldn’t truly trust each other until they were their authentic selves.

And she wanted him enough to take that risk. She sat up. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you my poetry if you do something for me.”

He watched her warily.

“You’ve got to perform your ballads live.”

“Sure. I’ll bring my guitar to the pool tomorrow.”

“Nope. If I find the right venue in Malé…” She held his gaze. “Will you do it?”

Because her gut told her their future hung on his response.

There’s something very wrong with me.

I had the hottest rock star in the world all to myself—we could be cuddled on the rocker overlooking the ocean or banging in the open-air shower.

But no, I had to make him prove himself to me.

She’d worked with their butler to find the perfect venue for a solo acoustic gig, and now Della sat alone watching the crowd drink, chat, and listen to the soulful music piped in through speakers.

Bex didn’t look happy on that stage. In his fake mustache, a ball cap that hid all his sexy, tousled hair, he sat on a stool adjusting a microphone. The audience completely ignored him. He might’ve been a dentist for all they knew.

It just felt like there was so much at stake. They’d gotten so close, so fast. They’d declared their love for each other.

She wished she didn’t need proof from him. Because truthfully, there were no guarantees. With love, you just had to jump in with your whole heart and try to make it work.

After the show, she’d back off. Trust that it would work out between them.

She just hoped this crowd appreciated him. And if they didn’t, if this was a big flop, what damage might she do? Thanks to Freemont Street, he had a terrible association with performing.

Everyone in the club seemed cool, though. Except that one group in the center. A large, boisterous man in a Hawaiian-print shirt told one story after another, using laughter to punctuate his sentences. His friends were in his thrall.

The longer she waited for the show to begin, the more anxious she grew. She pulled out her phone to text the butler.

Della: You’re sure this is the right venue? What if this crowd’s expecting rock ‘n’ roll?

Laki: This is the right venue because it is the only one whose act cancelled at the last minute. Therefore, it is the only venue.

Della: Haha. That is not reassuring.

Laki: Art is subjective, no? Look, if it’s not going well, you can get up on stage and distract them with your poetry. Poetry slam!

Well, she supposed if she’d wanted a serious butler-guest relationship, she shouldn’t have joked around with him.

Della: You’re making me sweat. I can’t sweat in a dress like this.

Laki: The Della I know glistens. She most certainly does not sweat.

Looking down at her phone, she chuckled. And really, he was right to distract her because Bex was on that stage, and he was going to sing, so she could imagine the worst, or she could trust that this unbelievably talented man would win over the crowd.

Bex started strumming. “Evening.” Only a few stopped talking to pay attention to him. “How’s everyone enjoying paradise?”

The scattered applause and single call of “Woo hoo” was disheartening. Most of the patrons continued drinking and chatting.

As much as she wanted to stand up and tell everyone to pay attention to this brilliant man, she kept her butt firmly in the chair. She didn’t even clap or whistle.

He needed to get the response from the crowd. Not his lover.

“All righty, so here goes.” He glanced up, eyes hidden by the bill of his cap.

But nothing could hide that shy, sweet grin.

Please be good to him.

I beg you all…listen.

You’ll be blown away.

And then he shot her a look. I’m doing this for you.

She gave him a big smile. I’m so damn proud of you I can’t even stand it.

And even if you bomb, I’m still going to peel your clothes off with my teeth.

He chuckled.

He could read her so well.

And then…he started strumming.

He got about halfway through his first song when the boisterous man cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “Kick it up a notch, why don’t ya?”

Consummate professional that he was, Bex played right through it. As soon as he finished, he went right into the next tune, not giving the man the slightest opportunity to disrupt his set.

But the group continued to slam back shots and talk over the music.

Someone from another table said, “Hey. Come on. Quiet down.”

The man pushed his chair back and stood up. “Enough with the sad folk song shit. We’re here to party.”

“Go back to your cruise ship, asshole,” someone in the corner called.

Bex continued to play, not giving the man any attention. She was so damn proud of him. So happy to see him immersed in his songs. And, frankly, other than that one table, everyone else was mesmerized in his gorgeous melodies and riveted by his performance. Even the servers stopped what they were doing to listen.

And then he finished.

He set down his guitar and looked up.

Everyone stared. Not a single sound in the room.

Bex forced a smile. “Thanks for putting up with me tonight.” Tipping his hat back, he scanned the room, features tense with anxiety.

And not a single person clapped.

The room was dead silent.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Della couldn’t stand it another second. She shot out of her chair, unable to let him face such utter rejection.

But before she could lift her hands, applause cracked the silence.

It kept going as slowly, one by one, the audience got to its feet and gave him a thunderous response. People shouted out, some whistled.

At the table next to her, she heard, “Holy shit, who is this guy?”

“I recorded it. It’s going viral, for sure.”

“What’s his name? He’s going to be huge.”

Bex lowered his head, and she couldn’t miss the exhale of relief. He stood up. “Thanks.” Lifting his guitar, he shook it and then exited the stage.

Della was on the move, making her way across the room, but before she could reach him, she heard the obnoxious man bellow, “Finally. Let’s get some real music in here. No more of that sappy shit.”

The moment Bex stepped off the last stair, she was in his arms. “You were amazing. You blew them away.” The applause hadn’t died down. “They love you, Bex. They love you.”

“Hey.” A man in a white linen short-sleeved shirt and pressed jeans approached them. “Great show.”

“Thank you.” Bex shook his hand.

“I’m Mike Tupper, talent agent. You’ve got some pipes.”

She reached for Bex’s hand and gave it a squeeze, barely able to hold back her laughter. But when she felt the tremble in his body, all her good humor subsided.

Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of performing. She hoped the drunk man hadn’t shaken him.

“Do you have representation?” Mike asked.

“I’m not really there yet.” Bex gave him a nod to end the conversation.

But Mike reached for him. “Well, hang on. You’re not as far off as you think. You’ve got something. We can work on your stage presence, get you some voice lessons.”

What the hell’s he talking about? Bex’s performance was flawless.

The man pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed Bex a card. “I’d like to work with you, get you the resources you need.” He gestured behind him. “I’m based in London, but I’ve got acts all over the world.”

“Tonight was just about having fun with my girlfriend, but thank you.”

Tipping his head to the stage, Mike indulged him with a patronizing smile. “You going to give them one more song?”

Feet stomped, and the audience chanted, “Encore, encore, encore.” And over it all, the obnoxious man shouted, “Ah, hell no. Let him go back to the commune and make daisy chains.”

“I know you’re just acoustic tonight, but do you have any livelier songs?” Mike asked. “Something to get the crowd pumped?”

“Nope. That’s it.” Bex let go of her hand. “We’re heading out.” He lifted the card. “But thanks.” He wasn’t taking payment, and he’d only brought a guitar, so they had no reason to hang around.

They slipped out the back door, breathing in the cool evening air, and headed for the main boulevard.

“Oh, my God, you were amazing. Did you hear their response?”

“I did.” He was focused on texting the driver.

“Forget the drunk guy. He’s an asshole. And the talent agent…I’m sure that’s his opening line with everyone.”

Bex looked up from texting. “Della, I’ve been doing this for years. None of it’s new.”

Well, sure, it’s new. Since you’re usually hiding behind Van. He wanted to come off as nonchalant, totally chill, but she knew him. And his tone was flat. “Okay, well, I’m really proud of you, and you blew everyone else away.” She was still riding on the beauty of his melodies, the achingly poignant lyrics. “I want the whole world to hear your songs.”

“Well, with some vocal work, I might get there one day.” He made it sound like a joke, but she caught the bitter undertone.

“Oh, come on. We can look him up and see which ‘artists’ he represents. Trust me on this, he’s got no one at your level.”

The vacant look in his eyes scared her. “The car’s on its way.”

She didn’t want him hurtling back in time, all the way back to high school when he’d had to ignore the kids throwing coins at him and breaking into song when he entered the cafeteria, so she reached for his hand, as if she could keep him tethered to this moment with her. She needed to remind him of his one-of-a-kind talent. “I’m serious, Bex. In that one set, you made me cry, you made me laugh, and you made me swoon. Your songs are brilliant. I was watching everyone in the room, and I’m telling you, no one could take their eyes off you.”

“Stop.” He gave her a hard look. “I don’t need to be coddled. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

Della had slept so soundly she hadn’t even heard Bex get up.

The sound of water spattering over the tile had her rolling onto her back. What’s he doing? He’d showered before bed last night.

We’re on vacation. She’d expected lazy mornings.

Fear yanked the thread of tension running through her body, jerking her upright. The whole way back to the hotel, he’d been quiet. She’d tried to talk to him, but he’d sworn he was fine. That he’d learned years ago to tune out the audience.

He’d given her the right words. Art’s subjective and People view it through the lens of their experience. Delivered like a customer service rep who’d memorized his lines.

Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he was hurting, and she needed to make him feel better. She’d just gotten out of bed, ready to hug the disappointment right out of him, when she saw his phone vibrating on the nightstand.

She could see the first few sentences of a text.

Martin: Reid’s in. We’re good to go. Let me know if we’re keeping Della or if you want someone new.

A low-level thrum of anxiety kicked up her pulse.

Martin didn’t know they’d gotten together, so of course he’d only see her as a temporary assistant. Someone easily replaceable. That’s okay. It’s not like Bex had written it.

It was just…keeping Della? It sounded so impersonal.

Worse, it was obviously a response to something Bex had sent. Something that had prompted Martin to wonder whether Della was moving forward with them.

Right. Probably because we’re lovers now, and I can’t work for him anymore. Of course, he needs someone new.

Wait, if he’s retiring, why does he need an assistant?

The water shut off, and she was a little too anxious to go talk to him, so as she waited for him to come into the bedroom, she reread the message one more time, trying to figure out its meaning.

Stop making things up. Wait until you talk to him.

He came out with a white towel wrapped around his hips, and her heart twisted. This man…he was the missing piece of her soul. The restless longing that had driven her to write poems disappeared when they connected. She could feel him deep down. He connected with her very essence.

He’s mine.

Whatever he’s going through right now, we’ll get through it.

With a second towel, he dried his hair. Watching her carefully, he lowered his arms. “What’s wrong?”

She wasn’t going to play games. “Martin texted.”

His features tightened, and he made a grab for the phone. With narrowed eyes, he read the message. When he finished, the lines of tension on his face relaxed, and he tossed the phone onto the bed.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m going back into the studio.”

She brightened. “Oh, God. I’m such an idiot. He said Reid’s in, so I thought…never mind. This is fantastic. You’re going to make an album of ballads? This is so great.” Maybe his brother would support him this time around.

“What? No.” Distracted, he pulled open a drawer and tossed all the shirts into the open suitcase.

“Wait, what’s going on right now?”

“We owe the studio one more record, and Reid’s down to do it.”

“I don’t understand. Neither of you wants to keep going. You both said you were done.”

“It doesn’t work like that. You don’t just decide to shut down an entire operation. We have obligations, contracts.” He scooped the boxer briefs out of the top drawer and threw them into the case.

“Can you stop packing for a second? What happened between last night and this morning that I missed?”

He sat on the edge of the mattress. “I couldn’t sleep.”

She moved closer to him, setting a hand on his back. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I had a lot to work out.”

Well, that kicked her anxiety up to a whole other level. He didn’t want to work it out with her? “Okay. Help me understand your thought process because one of the first things you said to me is that you were so tired of ‘lying and hiding.’ And I was there when Reid said he’d only do it if you made him. Can’t you buy your way out of this contract?”

“Probably, but it’s not easy to do. They can take us to court, and it could get ugly. We’ve always honored our obligations, and it doesn’t sit right with me that we’d bail on the label.”

“I understand that, but when you weigh it out, you’re talking about your reputation versus Reid’s well-being.” And yours. She lifted both hands to mimic a scale. One palm sank far lower than the other.

“He’s fine with it because he wants to transition into the next phase of his life. Martin will slow down the tour schedule, so Reid will have time to wander around cities with his camera or whatever he decides to do.”

What is he talking about? “Van Claybourne can’t wander anywhere. He’d be recognized on the Yukon trail. But more importantly, he said it was impossible for him to be creative when he’s touring three hundred days a year.”

“You haven’t even known us a week, Della. You have no idea what’s involved in the Van Claybourne production. You don’t just decide one day to shut it all down. We’re talking about the livelihood of hundreds of people, licensing agreements…there are a thousand moving parts.” He strode into the bathroom and threw things into his toiletry bag.

Okay, he was running on fear. He’d exposed himself last night, and he’d gotten heckled. He’ll calm down. He’ll come back to me. She followed him into the bathroom and set a hand on his shoulder, ready to comfort him. He flinched.

Well, hell. It was like he’d flipped a switch, reverted to the man she’d met that first morning on the bus. “And what about us?”

He caught her gaze in the mirror. “What about us?”

He’d lived in the shadows for so long, he thought nobody noticed his tells. He was wrong. “I know you, and I know I’m not talking to Bexley Sinclair right now. I’m talking to the guy who hides on the bus while his brother performs his songs.”

Anger wrenched his features. He zipped the toiletry bag and spun around, moving out of the bathroom in a cloud of expensive soap and herbal shampoo. “You have no idea how hard it was to build Van Claybourne into what it is today. The last fucking thing I want to do is rebuild a career. I don’t want to sing ballads, okay? Now, look, I’m sorry to cut our trip short, but I’ve got to get to New York to talk about the next album and tour.”

He was being perfectly reasonable, so it was hard to remember the truth about what he truly needed versus what was expected of him. She followed him to the closet, talking to his back. “I asked you a question. What about us?”

Slowly, he turned to her. “Are you saying you don’t want to be with me if I don’t quit the band right now?”

“Of course not. But you’ve made all these plans without me. You’re showered, you’re packing…and I just woke up. Forgive me for thinking it looks like I’m being left behind.”

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.” When her eyes flared, he said, “Or come with me to New York. It’s up to you.”

“Yes, I’m aware of my agency in all this. It just would help if I understood what the choices were.”

At her bitchy tone, he turned back to yank his shirts off the hangers. “After negotiations, I’ll go on a retreat so I can write the songs. Then—”

“Can you do that in Wild Wolff Village?” Because she could go with him there. She’d get to be with Micky. Maybe she’d start her event planning business in Calamity or Jackson.

“I don’t know where it’ll be. It’s usually somewhere unfamiliar, so there are no distractions, no routines. No interruptions.”

It hit so hard she went dizzy. He doesn’t want me with him. “Given that I have needs of my own—like chatting and sex and basic companionship, it sure sounds like I’d be an interruption.” He couldn’t have made himself clearer.

He didn’t even fold the shirts. Just dumped them in the suitcase. “I’ve never taken anyone with me before.”

God, why had Mary put up with this all these years? “And what happens after this solo retreat?”

“We go into the studio.” He dug beneath the mound of clothing and pulled out a T-shirt, found a pair of boxer briefs and jeans.

“And where will that be?”

Whipping off the towel, he got dressed. “Depends on the producer. Could be anywhere.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll tour.”

“Okay. So, let’s say I choose to stick with you through all of this, what do you imagine I’ll be doing while you’re in the studio and touring?”

“I guess you’ll be starting your event planning business.” He sounded exasperated.

She’d never been punched in the stomach, but it had to feel like this. That doubling-over kind of pain, the sickening sensation spreading through her body. “Oh, okay. Got it. I’m going back to Arizona.” Fuck him. Now, it was her turn to pack. Like hell she’d lounge around the pool in paradise, sleeping in the same bed where they’d made love, using the same shower where they’d fucked.

She grabbed an armful of clothes off hangers, but when she turned around, he was blocking the closet doorway.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” He cracked a bitter grin. “No, actually, I know exactly what you want. You want me to be the guy on the bus, the guy you spent three days with. Well, guess what, Della? You’re not the only one who wants me to be something. Martin wants me to be the man who keeps this machine running smoothly three-hundred-sixty-five days a year. My label wants me to churn out hits and keep Van Claybourne on the charts. My family wants me to be the provider, the one who keeps us all together. And now you want me to be the next Bryan Adams.”

“Why are you angry with me?”

“Because I thought you were the only one who wanted me to just be me.”

“This isn’t you. This is the old you. I’m the only one who wants you to be happy. If you loved your life, I wouldn’t say a word. But you don’t. You told me you don’t. Reid told me he doesn’t.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “End of a tour. It’s always like that.”

“Oh, my God, you’re just rolling out all the lines, aren’t you? Okay, well, I can’t get through to you, so…” She pushed past him and set her dresses in the carry-on.

“Get through to me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the woman you fell in love with. Because I see you and listen to you and root for you to live for yourself for the first time in your life.”

“Except for that little agenda you’ve got where I fit into your idea of me. You have this image in your head of us hanging out all day, writing poems and lyrics, having deep conversations. That’s not life. That’s a three-day break from life. Jesus, Della, I can’t have one more person telling me who they need me to be.”

For the first time, she understood the expression shaking like a leaf. Because that’s what she was doing. She was a fragile wisp of a thing trembling in a brisk wind. “I need to hear you say it. Just say the words. Are you ending it with me? Are we done?”

Fear sliced through his anger. It was just a flash, but it was real. “I didn’t say that. But if we try to make a go of this, you have to understand what my life will be like for the next eighteen months.”

“Yes, I understand.”

He relaxed, even gave her a relieved smile.

“I understand you want me to be Mary. You want me to be satisfied with the occasional phone call where we catch each other up on our business issues.”

“I know you’re not Mary, but this is the reality of my life—”

“Stop it. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t bullshit me. Because I know the real man. And I know why you went back into hiding. I’ve never performed, but it had to suck to be heckled when you were wearing your heart on your sleeve. But you’re not sixteen, this isn’t high school, and I won’t hide out on the bus with you anymore. Dammit, Bex. You’re so much better than this.”

“You mean the idea you had of me is so much better than who I turned out to be. And I can’t help you with that. This is who I am. And if that’s not good enough for you, then, I guess there’s nothing more to talk about.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Della woke up to the smell of bacon.

When she cracked open her lids, her gaze landed on Van Claybourne’s handsome sixteen-year-old face. “Oh, hell.”

The last time she’d slept in her childhood bedroom was when she’d transitioned from her apartment to her gig at Wild Wolff Resort six months ago. She’d left the stupid posters on the wall as a good luck charm, hoping she’d get to meet the man of her dreams.

Well, Della, you not only met him, but you married him.

She threw the covers back and got out of bed. After a quick shower, she brushed her teeth, got dressed, and went to grab her notebook out of her suitcase.

She hadn’t written a poem in a long time, and she needed to untangle a whole pile of emotions. Digging through the clothes she’d bought at the resort, she found a playing card.

How on earth did this get in here? We never—

A memory flitted into her mind and burst to life.

Bex shirtless, sitting across the table from her. Laughing.

Her heart seized.

They’d played strip poker in Vegas.

That was all she had of their night together—that single glimpse of champagne bottles, a mess of cards, and the love of her life.

She’d never seen him laugh like that. A smile stretched so wide it changed the shape of his features.

Oh, how she loved that man.

Flicking the card toward the garbage bin, she pulled out her toiletry bag. She didn’t blame him for honoring his contract, she supposed. Though she figured bands broke them all the time. But she wouldn’t allow their love to turn tepid and dull. To become nothing more than quick phone calls catching up on each other’s days.

I want so much more than that.

So much more of him.

She understood he was a businessman, and she absolutely didn’t imagine them canoodling on a couch and having deep conversations every day. But she did need him to be true to himself.

A flash of crystal glittered in the early morning light, and she unearthed the wedding stilettos.

Damn, they’re stunning.

But the lawyers were working on the annulment, and so the shoes represented everything she couldn’t have, so she cocked her arm, ready to toss them in the garbage.

Nope. She couldn’t do it. They’re too pretty.

Clutching the sandal, Della sat down on the bed.

What have I done?

As angry as she was at him for retreating into the safety of his old patterns, she had to accept that she’d pushed him too far. He wasn’t wrong—she was one more person telling him who she needed him to be.

And who am I to tell anyone what to be? I’m living in my childhood bedroom. I have no job.

She’d start her business, of course, but…it just didn’t excite her.

Without Micky, why the hell did she want to be an event planner? Without Bex, everything felt blah.

“Hey, hon.” Her dad stood in the doorway in his pajama bottoms and an Arizona State T-shirt, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. “I made your favorite breakfast.”

“You mean a little of everything?” Since she was a little girl, her dad had always cooked breakfast for them on Sundays. And he’d always left a menu on her door the night before. Instead of choosing one item, she’d check off all the boxes.

“Yep.” He slung the towel over his shoulder, his smile fading. “Everything all right?”

“Oh, you know. I’ve got the worst jet lag.” She let out a shaky breath. “That’s a lie. I’ve made a mess of everything.”

“Aw, sweetie.” He came into the room and sat beside her. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close. “What’s going on?”

Glancing at the poster of Maya Angelou on her wall, she swiped the tears from under her eyes. “I mean, look at me. I’m twenty-six years old and just as wishy-washy as ever. I can’t choose what I want for breakfast, and I can’t choose what I want to do with my life.”

“And this is a life dilemma?”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t have a career.”

He released her. “Let’s break this down. You can’t choose one thing for breakfast because I’ve always given you a smorgasbord of your favorite foods. Is this a problem?”

“When you put it that way, no.”

“Moving onto number two. You can’t choose what you want to do with your life. Now, is that the truth? Because I thought you were a poet.”

“I’m not a poet.” She huffed out a bitter laugh. “I just like poetry.”

“What do you spend your time doing? Because as long as I’ve known you, you’ve written in your notebook. Pretty sure those words are an actual art form.” Her dad shrugged. “You are what you do.”

“Okay, even if I am a poet, that’s not a career. Nobody makes a living selling poetry.”

Her dad got up and wandered to the far wall. “You once told me that this guy—” W.H. Auden “—made his living as a professor. I’d imagine some have been editors or publishers.” He gave her a thoughtful expression. “You know, in the years since you’ve been planning parties and cleaning houses, you could’ve earned a PhD. You could be not only writing poetry but teaching it. Seems like that life might suit you better than being someone’s assistant. Maybe you should start supporting your own talent and not someone else’s.”

Clarity pierced her heart with a sharp-tipped blade.

Her dad saw her anguish and came back to her. He stroked her hair. “Oh, dear. What did I say?”

“No, it’s not you.” I’m such a hypocrite. “I fell in love, Dad. Please don’t tell anyone because I signed an NDA, and I’m not supposed to talk about it.” She lurched off the bed and tapped one of her Van Claybourne posters. “He’s the artist I was working for. I’ve never felt anything like the way I feel for him, but I walked away because he wasn’t being true to himself. And I didn’t feel like giving my heart to a man who was hiding in the shadows.” No one had seen her poems other than Bex. She’d kept them hidden under her bed.

I’m hiding, too. I’ve been hiding all my life.

Compassion seeped out of him. “Because?”

“If he doesn’t know himself, how does he know he wants me?”

“Right, so the plan is to only give your heart to a sure-thing?”

The world slowed to a standstill, and in the quiet, she heard her heart pounding. All the connections snapped into place. “Bex said when you lose a parent, you lose your trust in love. But I think you also lose your trust in life. In things working out for you. If your own mother can be taken, what can you count on? Why bother putting your heart and soul into something that can be snatched away?”

“I, uh…wow.” He scraped his fingers through his hair. “I know exactly what you mean. When Mom died…it rocked our worlds. We were so damn happy. We lived in this little bubble of love, and when she left us, we just stopped living. I go through the motions of my life, and you skim across the top, never really sinking into anything.”

“And I lived my love life through a poster on my wall.” But she’d had a taste of something true, and she didn’t think she could settle for anything less again.

Nothing less than Bex.

“Can we make a pact right now that we’ll throw caution to the wind and live the lives we truly want?” her dad asked. “Because time’s going to keep on passing, and I’d hate to see both of us still living on the periphery of our lives.” He reached for her hands. “What do you say, Della? Should we both take the leap?”

“You’re here.” Micky wrapped her arms around her, her big belly in the way of the bear hug Della needed.

It felt so good to be back with her best friend. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” And she did truly love Calamity.

“Liar. You’d rather be in New York City right now. Come on. Let’s go home.”

Della tipped the shuttle driver who’d loaded Micky’s SUV with her luggage. She’d brought just about everything she owned for her new life in Wyoming.

But her friend was wrong. While she was desperate to be with Bex—she missed him like a piece of her heart had been ripped out—she didn’t want to be in New York. She didn’t want to hide with him.

She was so ready to live her life out loud.

Once Micky pulled away from the curb, she patted Della’s knee. “How are you really?”

“I’m sad. I did a really stupid thing, and I’m paying a big price for it.”

“So, tell him.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I should’ve handled the situation differently. Instead of giving him an ultimatum, I should’ve given him time.” He’d just experienced the same kind of bullying as he had in high school. Of course, he’d scampered back into his cave. “But I don’t want the kind of relationship he had with his ex.”

“No, you should never settle. You deserve everything you want in life.”

“Right? He’ll be in the studio for the better part of a year. Then, he’s going on a farewell tour that’ll take him around the globe. And I’m not going to sit on the bus and make sure Van has his herbal tea. I’m not going to put off my life any longer.”

“I hate that you’re going through this, but I couldn’t be happier that you’ve decided to apply to school here.”

“Yeah. I have a meeting with Professor Holloway next Monday.” Della had looked into PhD. programs across the country, but when she’d learned the University of Western Wyoming was known for its Arts and Literature program, and that they had a poet laureate, she’d been sold. “I wish I could find my notebook, though. She asked for some sample poems, and I don’t want to give her old stuff.”

“You know you had it in your purse at the resort, so you either left it in the hotel room or on the plane.”

“Martin’s checked everywhere, and no one’s turned it in.”

“Well, it’s been what, a week since you left the island? I’m going to bet you’ve filled a whole new notebook.”

Della grinned. “Not quite.”

Instead of heading toward the mountains where Micky lived, her friend turned onto Main Street.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re meeting Rhys for dinner. Is that okay?”

After the mental trauma of the last week and traveling all day, Della wanted nothing more than to crash. But she could make it through another hour or so.

Micky parked in front of Wild Billy’s.

“Well, I know you’re not riding the mechanical bull in this condition, so why are we here?” Calamity had tons of great restaurants. Her friend wouldn’t normally choose a rowdy cowboy bar.

“I’ve been craving a big, juicy burger all day.”

Della laughed. “Well, that beats pickles and ice cream in my book.” They got out of the car and headed inside. “I guess we’re early.” It wasn’t nearly as crowded as normal.

They made their way across the restaurant to a table right by the stage.

Rhys got up and reached for her. “Great to see you, Della.” Tall, clean-cut, and well-built, her friend’s fiancé radiated confidence and power. He came off as a man who knew his place in the world, yet he had his story, too. He’d floundered for years—until an unexpected pregnancy had turned him into a single father.

Della had to remember that. Not everyone took a linear path in life.

So what if I’m twenty-six and only now finding mine?

“Nice to see you, too.”

He pulled out her chair and waited until she settled to sit back down.

“I suppose if someone had to knock up my friend, I’m glad it’s you.”

He stuttered out a laugh. “I’m glad it’s me, too.” He looked across the table to Micky with a look filled with adoration. “I got the girl.”

“You guys.” Della’s heart swelled with affection. Not only was she thrilled to see her best friend so in love, but she was really happy with her decision to move here.

Rhys reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “It means a lot to her that you chose the WY.”

She supposed all universities had their nicknames. She just wasn’t so sure she loved The WY for the University of Western Wyoming. “Well, I haven’t gotten in yet, but there’s honestly nowhere else I’d rather be.”

A man with a lot of facial hair and cowboy boots took the stage. Reaching for the mic, he grinned and waved to the audience. “Thanks for coming to our surprise gig, y’all. This is a special event, and we’d sure appreciate it if you’d respect our request for no pictures or videos. With that said, let’s bring out our special guest.” He gestured to the side of the stage where a tall man with tousled dark hair loped up the stairs.

Della’s heart thundered. Blood roared in her ears. “What’s he doing here?” Bex. She whacked Micky’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

But her friend beamed a huge smile up at the performer.

“Thanks for coming out, everyone.” Bex sat on the stool, adjusting the mic. “I appreciate you showing up so last-minute.” And then he looked right at Della.

Her heart exploded.

She hadn’t thought she’d see those eyes again, and now she wanted to leap up on that stage and kiss the ever-loving hell out of him. Tell him she was sorry, and she’d never make a mistake like that again.

But the applause continued, people shouting out for Van Claybourne, and he turned his attention to the audience. “Hang on a sec. Gotta clear something up.” The crowd quieted down. “I’m not Van Claybourne. I just look a lot like him. And that’s because I’m Bex, Van’s twin brother.”

Shock skittered across the room.

“But I hope you’ll give me a chance.” He strummed his guitar, and she suspected if it had been any other tune, the audience would’ve continued talking about the bomb he’d just dropped.

Van Claybourne has a twin?

But this melody was so lovely, it got everyone’s attention. As he strummed, he leaned into the mic. “I’ve got some big news for you, and you’re the first to hear it. Van Claybourne’s retiring. We’ve had a great run of it, but now it’s time for my brother and me to pursue new dreams. I hope you’ll come along with me on mine.”

He’d done it. He’d quit the band. Della couldn’t believe it.

No, she could. She could because she believed in him. In his talent.

In us.

She watched him, her body buzzing, her hands shaking. And then…he started singing.

And she listened.

Secrets and lies

And you’re my alibi

Watching you fold

I do what I’m told

I’m a good little boy

And he’s the decoy

I did this for you, Mom

I did this for you

But now the sunshine’s broken through

And I can’t crawl back into the dark

I met a girl, and she changed my world

There’s no going back Mom

There’s no going back.

Will you still love me?

Will I love myself?

My heart is full

My heart is hers.

Wide open spaces

A handful of aces

I’m here for you, love

I’m all-in for you.

Lay it on the line

Because I’m out of time

Will you be mine?

I’m asking you…

He stopped strumming and held her gaze. “Will you be mine?”

In the silence that followed his last note, Della blurted, “God, yes.”

The crowd went nuts, clapping wildly and stomping their feet. Bex hid a shy smile. “Hang on. I’m not done.”

The audience quieted down, Bex started playing the next song.

At first, she was confused. The lyrics were so different than what he normally wrote, but she supposed he had a new style now.

No, wait… “I wrote that.” But no one heard her over the music. She tapped Micky on the shoulder and mouthed, That’s my poem.

Micky leaned over. “Guess we know who found your notebook.”

When he finished the song, he set his guitar down and walked to the edge of the stage. “Della.” His eyes blazed with love.

She scraped back her chair, raced around the table to meet him.

Crouching, he reached for her hands and brought them to his mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. I was an idiot, and I’m sorry. We’re all works in progress, and I’m sorry I held you to a higher standard than I do for myself.”

“So, what do you say? Are we going to make music together for the rest of our lives?”

“I’m here for you, Bexley Sinclair. I’m all-in for you.”

EPILOGUE

Winter nights in the village were magical. “I’m so happy I moved here.” With her wool gloves, thick, soft scarf wrapped around her neck, and puffy parka, Della skated alongside Micky on the rink. She’d been so wrong about being a third wheel in her friend’s life. This woman would always be her family.

“Me, too.” Cheeks red from the cold, Micky kept her eye on her stepdaughter, skating just ahead with Rhys. They’d left the newborn at home with her grandmother.

Strands of white lights wove around wrought iron lamp posts, wreaths hung off the doors of all the charming boutiques, and horses clopped by on the cobblestone streets hauling festive carriages. Wild Wolff Village felt like living in a storybook.

Best of all, she got to live here with the love of her life.

As Christmas music played, groups of teenagers, families, and sweethearts glided around the rink. Her heart squeezed because Bex wouldn’t be home for another week.

After holing up in their Wild Wolff Village home for the past five months to write songs, he’d sent a demo to his old A&R rep at the label. It wasn’t the right sound for her, but she’d passed it along to a colleague who was absolutely blown away.

He’d be home as soon as he finished up his meetings in New York, and then they’d spend their first holiday together.

Bliss.

All at once, Micky’s stepdaughter stopped skating and looked up at her dad. As he bent over to talk to her, Addi pointed to the clock tower. He nodded, and the little girl pulled something out of her coat pocket and skated over to Della. With glittering eyes, she said, “I have something for you, Auntie Della.”

“For me?” Christmas wasn’t for another three weeks, so she had no idea what it could be. But she happily took the pale pink envelope.

“It’s a scavenger hunt.”

“Oh. Okay. That sounds fun.” The four of them glided to the side of the rink where she unfolded the pretty stationary and read the first line. “I almost bought a house, thinking it was a home.” Recognizing the writing, she looked at them. “Is this from Bex?”

Addi nodded vigorously.

“He arranged this for me?” A low hum of excitement kicked up in her belly. He was the sweetest, most thoughtful man. No matter how busy they both were—him in the studio, and her doing schoolwork—he always made time for her. He was the best at coming up with romantic things for them to do.

She just loved him so much. She missed sleeping in his arms, cooking meals together, and curling up on the couch where they’d talk about any random thing that entered their minds.

Addi tugged on the hem of Della’s coat. “Read the whole thing. It’s a poem.”

She was a little anxious because she wasn’t sure where it would lead. Was there a cute present waiting for her at the end? Could it be her dad, coming early to spend the holidays with them? Chill out and just go with it. “I almost bought a house, thinking it was a home. I could picture myself at the table, daisies in a glass jar, a mug of coffee in my hands.” Confused, Della looked up at them. “That’s it? I’m not sure he knows how a scavenger hunt works.”

Everyone burst out laughing, and Addi pointed to the espresso kiosk. “Coffee, Auntie Della.” She clapped her hands. “Go, go.”

Hugging the notecard to her chest, she laughed as she made her way off the ice. “Are you guys coming with me?”

“Nope,” Micky said. “This hunt’s all yours.”

Sitting down on a bench, Della removed her skates, put on her boots, and headed for the kiosk.

Even before she arrived, an older man in a red and green apron stepped out and handed her a paper cup. “You must be Della.” He pulled an envelope out of the apron pocket. “And this is your second clue.”

“Oh, my goodness, this is crazy.”

As he stepped behind the counter, he said, “In the very best way.”

Della took a sip of the creamy, warm cocoa and headed away from the crowd to read the note in private. But first, she couldn’t help pulling out her phone and calling Bex. Unfortunately, it went right to voicemail. “I don’t even know what time it is.” She glanced at the big clock in the center of the square. “Oh, it’s only nine in New York. I guess you’re out to dinner? All right, you nut, so I’m in the middle of this scavenger hunt, and I’m drinking my cocoa, and everything is perfect…except you’re not here.” She lowered her voice. “I know it’s only been a week. I know I’ve lived without you for twenty-six years, but my God, Bex, I notice every single second that we’re not together. I miss you.” She sighed. “Deep in my bones. Like a piece of my soul is missing when you’re not with me.” Which, of course, was why he’d created the hunt. To keep her close to him. “But okay, whatever. I’m going to read my next clue now.” She took another sip, not wanting to disconnect from him. “I love you. I love you so, so, so much. Call me when you get back to your room.” Setting the cocoa down on a brick wall, she pulled the card out of the envelope.

I almost bought a house, thinking it was a home.

I pictured myself at the table, daisies in a glass jar, a mug of coffee in my hands.

The lawn freshly mowed, and the fence painted white.

And yet this feeling…this feeling follows me everywhere. I’m alone.

Inside the house, I’m alone, and I’m restless. And there’s no song I want to play.

There’s no show I want to watch. There’s no sound I want to hear.

It’s like a Christmas tree, all lit up, the limbs heavy with ornaments.

And no gifts under the tree. No cat napping on the rug.

That’s it? It just ends like that? She read it again, looking for clues. And the only thing that stood out was the Christmas tree. Micky’s house had one, but she didn’t think he’d want her to go there.

Was there a tree lot nearby?

No, the hunt would be limited to this area. She turned around to take in the village, her gaze falling on the impressive lodge-like resort. Inside, the lobby held a massive Christmas tree.

She grinned and struck off to find her next clue.

The moment she entered the hotel, she saw it. How could she not? Her name was spelled out in blinking red lights. Hurrying across the gleaming hardwood floor, she pulled out her phone and called Bex again. “You’re unbelievable. How did you get them to do this?” Hanging off a hook was another pink envelope. “Ah, the benefits of dating a rock star.” She laughed. “I’m going to read the next clue now, so can you just call me, for God’s sake?”

I almost bought a house, thinking it was a home.

I could picture myself at the table, daisies in a glass jar, a mug of coffee in my hands.

The lawn freshly mowed, and the fence painted white.

And yet this feeling…this feeling follows me everywhere. I’m alone.

Inside the house, I’m alone, and I’m restless. And there’s no song I want to play.

There’s no show I want to watch. There’s no sound I want to hear.

It’s like a Christmas tree, all lit up, the limbs heavy with ornament.

And no gifts under the tree. No cat curled up on the rug.

I almost bought a house, thinking it was a home.

And then I met you. And it happened. I found what I was looking for.

Your arms are the walls, and your smile is the jar of daisies.

The universe is in your eyes, perfect and complete.

My home is with you.

Your heart is my home.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, heart bursting with love. Blinking back tears, she had to read the last section again because she had no idea where to go next. Was home a clue? No, he said I’m his home. So, he didn’t mean the house they lived in. Then, it must be the universe.

She scanned the lobby and found the concierge at his desk, grinning at her. She pointed the card at him. “You’re the one who set up those lights?”

“Guilty.” Getting up, he chuckled. “I’m Mauricio.” He held out his hand. “And you’re the lovely Della.”

“Thank you for doing this. It’s blowing my mind.”

“Do you know where to go next?”

“I have no idea. But he said universe, so I’m wondering if there’s rooftop access here?”

“Indeed, there is. That’s where we view the Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve fireworks.”

“Ah, okay. So maybe that’s where he wants me to go next…?”

Fighting a grin, Mauricio clamped his lips shut.

“I mean…” She read the last stanza again. My arms, my smile, jar of daisies. “It has to be the universe, but it’s not like there’s an observatory in the village.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Wait, there is?”

“It’s small, but because the village sits against the mountains, we have the very best viewing in the valley. It’s on the penthouse level.” He reached for a keycard on the desk. “Enjoy.”

“It’s open?”

“Normally, it’s only open on Wednesday and Sunday nights.”

Her spirits plummeted. “Then, I don’t understand.”

“We’ve made an exception for you.”

“Thank you so much.” Breathless, she found herself racing toward the elevators. What had Bex planned for her in an observatory? She didn’t know about cell service in an elevator, but she shot him a text.

Della: What is happening right now? I’m heading up to the observatory.

Della: I miss you so much, and I love you love you love you.

Della: Also, I’m sorry for saying you don’t know how to do scavenger hunts. You rock at them!

Slipping her phone into her coat pocket, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored walls. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled. Her heart clutched with love for this man. How did I get so damn lucky?

The elevator landed, the doors parted, and she stepped into a quiet hallway. An arrow on the sign in front of her pointed left for the observatory.

Excitement danced under her skin like champagne bubbles. No one was around, but the door to the observatory was ajar. She stepped inside. “Hello?” It was a small space with a domed ceiling. About a hundred seats made a semi-circle around an enormous telescope.

The door closed behind her, and she whipped around. “Hello? Hey, I’m in here.”

But then a single light blinked on like a star in a night sky. One after another, bulbs lit on the ceiling, and then she sat down when she realized the stars spelled out the word Will. “What is happening right now?”

More lights flicked on in rapid succession. You.

Marry.

“Oh, my God.” She popped out of her seat, looking around. “Bex?”

Me.

“Yes. Are you freaking kidding me?” And then out of the corner of her eye she caught movement. She turned to the end of the aisle to find Bex on bended knee. She screamed and raced toward him.

He stood in time to catch her around the waist, hugging her so tightly he lifted her off her feet. “Della.” Her name came out on a rush of breath loaded with relief.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

His hand cupped the back of her head. “You’re gonna marry me?”

“Yes. Oh, my God, yes. I love you.”

He kissed her, a hungry claiming of her mouth. “I love you so much.”

Setting her down, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a red velvet box. Flipping it open, he presented her with the most stunning ring she’d ever seen. Four emerald-cut rubies surrounded the fifth and largest gem in the center. It was a showstopper.

With both their hands shaking, he had a hard time slipping it on her finger. Her heart beat like hummingbird wings in her chest.

She took in the stars, the ring, and him. “Bexley Sinclair, you are my soulmate. I’ve never been happier in my entire life.”

“Until I met you, I didn’t know what happiness was.” His voice was filled with marvel. “I didn’t know life could be like this. I almost settled for ordinary because I didn’t know it could be spectacular. Della, I want to marry you and love you and make babies with you and sleep beside you and fuck you and laugh with you and fight with you—I want it all. Every single thing, I want it with you.”

“I can’t believe this is happening. This whole night is magical. Best proposal ever.” She threw herself into his arms. “I’m going to miss you so much when you’re on tour.”

“You don’t have to miss me. Can’t you do your schoolwork and write lyrics on the bus?”

“I can totally do that. I want to do it.”

“You and me, whatever we do, we’re doing it together. Because…you’re my home.”

* * *

Thank you for reading ANYWHERE WITH YOU! If you love a grumpy, tatted hockey player and want to see him fall head over heels in love with the spoiled princess he’s forced to live with for a month, you’re going to love THE DEEPER I FALL!

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Read an excerpt from THE DEEPER I FALL

EXCERPT FROM THE DEEPER I FALL

TEN MONTHS AGO

Tonight, Seraphina Maud Crutchley was a superstar.

She didn’t feel like one very often. Rarely, in fact. But in this moment, with the spotlight trained on her as she stood in the middle of the ballroom surrounded by every single luminary in London’s elite, she felt a wild mix of emotion: pride, certainly, but also the teensiest sense of imposter syndrome.

Honestly, she didn’t know what to do with all the attention, so she smiled and kept her focus on the stage.

“The Lumley Foundation has hosted this ball for over a century.” The CEO, in his black tailcoat and white bow tie, addressed the crowd of glittering donors. “Thanks to the addition of Phinny to our team, we’ve seen our donations quadruple. With her sparkling personality and boundless compassion, she is most certainly a bright star among us. Thank you, Phinny, for putting together such a spectacular array of auction items.” He gave her a nod, and the audience broke into applause.

Her stepfather squeezed her shoulder, and her mum whispered in her ear, “I’m so proud of you, darling.”

It was the most glorious moment of her life. Thanks to the blinding light in her eyes, she couldn’t see the audience, so she just waved her appreciation. When the applause didn’t die down, she began to wonder what was going on. The acknowledgement was lovely, but surely, she hadn’t done anything that exceptional.

She supposed scoring a reclusive billionaire’s superyacht for a week was quite a coup, but still…

This response is a bit much.

It was only when the spotlight turned away from her that she discovered the reason for the crowd’s enthusiasm. Cameron Lumley had taken the stage. Shaking the CEOs hand, he grabbed the microphone. Then, her elegant, handsome boyfriend flashed his movie star smile. “Good evening.”

Even though his family ran the foundation, he had no reason to be on stage right then. He might not run events, but he sure was an impressive sight. His custom-made suit hugged his broad shoulders and muscular thighs while his commanding presence captured the attention of everyone in the room. “On behalf of my family, I’d like to thank you all for your support this evening. As you know, the charity is my life’s work, so it’s only fitting that the woman who owns my heart now plays such a central role in it.”

Surprise jolted her.

I own his heart?

They’d been together a while, but they hardly had some grand love affair. Not even close.

What’s he going on about?

Her parents moved to stand on either side of her, enormous smiles stretching across their faces.

Cameron extended a hand. “Darling, please come up here.”

She almost shouted Why? She didn’t need to get up on stage. The band should start playing, and the patrons should go back to dancing. That was the order of events.

Her mum took the champagne flute out of her hand. “Don’t just stand there.”

With all eyes on her, what choice did Phinny have? But while her brain sent the signal to her legs, they refused to cooperate. A wave of nausea hit, and she went hot all over.

Her stepfather set his hand on the small of her back and gave her a nudge. “Go on now. Don’t embarrass us.”

That got her moving. As the crowd parted, she made her way to the steps. On some level, she knew what was happening, but her mind was racing, and she couldn’t think clearly.

Please don’t do this.

We’re nowhere near ready for this. They’d grown up together but had only begun dating during their last year at university.

Casually dating.

Cameron stood center stage, while the CEO reached for her hand and helped her up the stairs. It was hard enough to move in her ball gown and shapewear bodysuit, but with her legs shaking, she moved like a newborn foal.

Which was fitting since her heart was positively galloping.

“Darling…” Cameron reached for her hand, kissing her palm.

And then, he dropped to a knee.

In the middle of the grandest charity event of the year, her boyfriend—emphasis on friend—was about to propose. “I have loved you my entire life, but it was only when I saw you coming out of Trinity Hall that I knew it was time to start our future together. Every day has gotten better, and I can’t wait to spend my life with you. Seraphina, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

With the audience’s collective gasp, the air was sucked out of the room.

She couldn’t breathe. Blood roared in her ears, and her vision blurred around the edges.

In the silence, she had the strangest sensation of floating. She could picture herself grabbing a handful of helium balloons and drifting off the stage, out the window, and sailing over the rooftops of London.

Cameron’s smile faltered, and it jerked her back to the moment. She couldn’t embarrass him. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

Relief washed over his handsome features, and he stood to his full height. He wrapped an arm around her and faced the ballroom, raising their clasped hands as though she were a trophy.

In the middle of the audience, Phinny found her parents. She’d never seen them so happy.

But why? The moment felt surreal. She’d never gushed about him to her parents. Never once talked about marriage or babies or any kind of future with him. They were two people from similar backgrounds who had fun together. We’re just dating.

Marriage?

Standing on that stage, she felt like a paper doll cut-out.

With a tug, she was led back down the stairs. Immediately, well-wishers swarmed them. His family, their friends…everyone was gleeful.

And it was all a lie.

Because she couldn’t marry him.

Flee. It wasn’t a thought so much as an alarm that rang through her body. She wrenched her hand out of his grip and made her way out of the ballroom. When she saw a sign for a powder room, she ducked inside and locked the door.

Oh, God. What is happening?

As she ran cold water over her hands, she looked up into her wild-eyed reflection. Her pulse pounded violently. Why had he proposed publicly? Now, calling it off would create a scandal.

It didn’t have to be like this.

A hard rap jerked her attention from the mirror.

“Phinny?” Cameron. “Open up.”

Angry that he’d put her in a terrible position, she opened the door, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him inside the lavender-scented bathroom. “What was that?”

His eyes flickered with hurt. “What do you mean, what was that? It was a marriage proposal.”

“But why? Cameron, we’re not ready for that.”

“We’ve been dating three years. When did you think we’d be ready?”

“I don’t know.” Never. “We haven’t talked about it.”

“What on earth do you think we’ve been doing all this time?”

“We’ve been dating.”

“Yes, on a course toward marriage. Why else would I be exclusive with someone if not with the intention of marrying her? Why are you acting like this came out of nowhere? You can’t pretend you didn’t know it was the path we’ve been on.”

She couldn’t argue his point, and it flustered her. Because, really, it uncovered a truth that would only hurt his feelings. I don’t love you. “I can’t possibly get married now. I haven’t done anything with my life.”

His jaw snapped shut, like he was trying to contain his anger. “Whatever you want to do, what better way to do it than as Cameron Lumley’s wife?”

Obviously, that made perfect sense. Marrying into one of the wealthiest families in the United Kingdom would afford her any opportunity her heart desired. And it wasn’t like Cameron cared what she did. That wouldn’t change once they got married. He’d still go off with his mates on trips, and she’d go clubbing with hers. Sometimes, they’d do the holidays together, while other times, they’d be with their own families.

She knew exactly what her life with him would look like because that was the kind of marriage his parents had. And she didn’t want to wind up like his mum, spending more time with her wine than her husband.

She pulled off the engagement ring. “I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to get married.”

He just stared at her as though waiting for her to laugh and say Gotcha. Of course, I’ll marry you, silly! “Are you serious?”

“Quite.” His presumption that she’d just fall in line with some plan he’d never voiced irked her. “Cameron, come on. Do you even love me?”

“Of course, I do.” He seemed calmer, as if they could now settle things. “I like you better than anyone else we know.”

Well, there’s a ringing endorsement for marriage. “And I like you. But I need more time.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are we talking a few weeks?”

Weeks? “I’m twenty-four. What’s the rush?”

His expression shuttered. “Waiting these three years has cost me nearly two million pounds.”

She flinched as if he’d flicked cold water at her face. As soon as he married, he’d tap into his trust fund. With each child he added to his family, the monthly allowance would go up.

Quite the incentive to keep the Lumley line going.

She’d known that. So, why did it sound so ugly to hear him say it out loud?

He must not have liked her crestfallen expression because he reached for her elbows and bent his knees to look her in the eyes. “Darling, there’s no one I’d rather spend my life with than you. You make me laugh…you make me happy.”

“Well, yes, because I don’t require anything of you.”

He chuckled. “Most definitely, that’s one for the plus column. But it works both ways. We give each other room to live our lives. Trust me, that’s a good thing. We’ll never grow restless or resentful.”

I want more.

And what a bombshell revelation that was. She’d just been going along, having fun, not questioning anything, and she’d given no thought to where she was heading. Now that he’d forced her to think about it, she had to accept she hadn’t done a damn thing with her life.

She couldn’t say what she wanted to do exactly, but for the first time, she felt something missing. Something between the phases of parties, clubs, and shopping and getting married and popping out babies. “I need more time.”

The smile vanished. He straightened. “No.”

Fear sliced through her. She might not be ready to marry him, but she’d never contemplated a life without him. Like her parents, he was a major cog in the machine of her world, and she didn’t know how to operate without all of them. “No, you won’t wait?”

“I have waited. Three years is more than enough.” He softened. “Look, you’d make a smashing stylist. Or you and your mum could open a boutique. Once we’re married, you can use a portion of the extra fifty thousand pounds a month to do whatever you want. It doesn’t matter to me, but we either get married now or it’s done.”

“It’s done? Or we’re done?”

“We’re done. If you’re not ready to marry me after three years, then I’ve got no reason to believe you’ll be ready by four years or even five.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you, but I can’t marry you because you’ve run out of patience with me. I’m sorry, Cameron.” She took in the proud jut of his chin and the look in his eyes that screamed Are you seriously going to walk away from me? She liked him very much. They’d had a lot of fun together. But she didn’t love him.

And so, she walked out the door.

Cut from her mooring, she felt adrift…uneasy. She hustled toward the exit as though the manor were on fire. The tight silk liner of her dress and the five-inch stilettos hampered her progress, though, as people rushed toward her, eager to share the happy occasion.

She couldn’t talk to anyone right then, so she hurried on. Pulling out her phone, she tried to text her parents’ driver, but her trembling fingers kept tapping the wrong pads, making her delete and start over.

“Seraphina?” Her mum glided along the hallway.

“Where are you going?” her stepfather asked. “We’ve just opened the bubbly to toast your wonderful news. Let’s find Cameron. Come along.”

The moment her mum reached her, the smile faded. “What’s going on?”

Phinny handed over her phone. “Can you please ask Fergus to come ‘round?”

Her stepfather snatched it. “We’ll do no such thing. All of our friends are here to celebrate with you.”

“There’s nothing to celebrate.” Phinny let out a tight breath. “We’re not getting married.”

“Of course, you are.” Andrew’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

When she’d met him as a little girl, she’d called him by his first name, but since she couldn’t pronounce Andrew, she’d wound up saying Dewzy. For the first time since he’d come into her life, that term of endearment didn’t fit. In this moment, when he cared more about his reputation than her feelings, he was purely her stepfather. “I gave the ring back. I’m not marrying him.”

“Seraphina.” Her mother sounded appalled.

“I told him I needed more time, and he said he wouldn’t give me any.”

Clasping her wrist, Andrew led them to an alcove. “You’ve known each other your entire lives. How much more time could you possibly need?”

“There are things I still want to do.”

“Like what?” her mum whispered harshly. “You want to shop more? Travel more? Have more spa days? What exactly are you so eager to do?”

Like a can on the road flattened by a tire, Phinny’s spirit compressed under the weight of her mum’s words. She’d never considered herself frivolous. She’d been living the only life she’d ever known. “I don’t know. But I would rather find out than get married to a man I don’t love.”

Her stepfather had always indulged her, and in return she’d tried very hard to please him. So, to see the tick in his jaw, the color flood his cheeks, truly upset her. “What on earth do you think we’ve been doing, Seraphina?”

“What do you mean?” A sickening feeling rolled through her.

“You don’t have a proper job, you live in an apartment we own, you use a credit card we’ve given you…why do you think we’ve been supporting you all this time?”

The great beast of fear loomed over her like a dark, menacing shadow. “I—” Her mind went blank.

“We’ve supported you because you were going to marry Cameron,” her mum said. “And Lumleys do philanthropy, just as I’ve done. Just as you’ve been doing. That has been our expectation. If we thought for a moment you had no intention of marrying him, you’d have been polishing your CV and applying for jobs your last year at university. You’d have been paying your own bills upon graduation.”

“Now, go and find your fiancé,” her stepfather said. “And get things back on track. Or the locks to your Knightsbridge apartment will be changed by morning.”

“What?” She could barely process his words. He couldn’t possibly mean to throw her out onto the streets?

“Darling, please.” Her mum patted his arm.

Oh, thank God. Her mum would always take care of her. They were a team. Her parents were upset. She understood that. But they’d never make her marry a man she didn’t love.

But then her mum’s features hardened. “Let her make some calls, see which of her friends will allow her to sleep on their couch until she gets a job.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Erika Kelly writes sexy and emotional small town romance. Married to the love of her life and raising four children, she lives in the southwest, drinks a lot of tea, and is always waiting for her cats to get off her keyboard.

https://www.erikakellybooks.com/

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