Table of Contents
Almost Fate
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
About the Author
Almost Fate
The Clover Park STUDS Series, Book 3
© 2018 Kylie Gilmore
Rock star Griffin Huntley longs for the one thing he never had—family. And who better to give it to him than his girlfriend, manager, and muse, Christina Olsen. But when his New Year’s Eve marriage proposal hits a sour note, Christina flees his limo in the middle of Manhattan, leaving Griffin fearing the worst.
Christina has been burned in marriage before and knows marrying Griffin would be the kiss of death in their relationship. Just look at the disaster with his first wife. But when Griffin is spotted in the press with not one but two beautiful women, Christina has a few choice words to say. To his face.
Only what she discovers is a secret from the past taking over Griffin’s life. Can two people with scarred hearts ever leave their pasts behind or does fate have other plans?
Author’s Note
Welcome to Clover Park where everyone gets lucky! To find out more about Will, Dave, Griffin, and all the other sexy, sweet heroes sweeping women off their feet in Clover Park, check out the rest of the books in the Clover Park STUDs series and the connected Clover Park series (each is a standalone story set in the same world):
Almost Over It (Book 1)
Almost Married (Book 2)
Almost Fate (Book 3)
Almost in Love (Book 4)
Almost Romance (Book 5)
Almost Hitched (Book 6)
And don’t miss the Clover Park series:
The Opposite of Wild (Book 1)
Daisy Does It All (Book 2)
Bad Taste in Men (Book 3)
Kissing Santa (Book 4)
Restless Harmony (Book 5)
Not My Romeo (Book 6)
Rev Me Up (Book 7)
An Ambitious Engagement (Book 8)
Clutch Player (Book 9)
A Tempting Friendship (Book 10)
Clover Park Bride (A Clover Park Short)
Sign up for my newsletter to be emailed when the next book releases.
Visit http://www.kyliegilmore.com for more fun stuff.
Find me on Facebook and Twitter.
Chapter One
Griffin Huntley woke up with a naked brunette in his bed.
He smiled to himself as he rolled naked out of bed and pulled his acoustic guitar from its case next to the nightstand. There was a time in his life when he would’ve had no clue who the woman in his bed was—back when he was caught up in the lifestyle. That time was not now.
He plucked out the notes he’d heard in his head upon waking, just a one-line riff with the words “longing for you.” He often heard fragments at times like these, just upon waking or drifting off to sleep, and he’d learned to capture them before they faded away.
“Mmm,” the one and only “crazy thing” in his life, Christina Olsen, purred.
He paused to hear what she’d say about the start of his new song. She was brash, brutally honest, a real ballbuster, but she’d believed in him from the start. She’d said he belonged in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He still had the text she’d sent him four years ago that grabbed him by the collar and woke him up: I want to hear your soul music. No matter how long it takes to get your shit together. Hear me?
Her faith in him had touched him deeply.
Christina went on in her harsh Brooklyn accent, “I wanna hear more.” It was music to his ears—the ultimate compliment. She’d say “that blows” if it was a rehash of some of his older work or, worse, “meh,” if it was nothing special. Her comments had never steered him wrong even when they were sometimes hard to hear.
He smiled at her over his shoulder and plucked out a few more notes. Her dark brown hair in its choppy short cut stuck out all over the place. She sat up and pressed against his back, her hands sliding over his shoulders before kissing his neck.
“Keep going,” she purred.
He played some more. Christina was his muse. He never would’ve become the international superstar he was today without her and he damn well knew it. When he’d first met her, four years ago, it’d been at a low point in his life. Professionally he’d been on a good run with his band, Twisted Star, but his personal life was a disaster. That all changed with Christina. He’d gone out on his own, leaving his band and all of his staff behind, abandoning the glam LA rock-star lifestyle to move to the hopping music scene in Brooklyn and rediscover what had made him passionate about music in the first place.
He closed his eyes and let his fingers play on the strings as her hot mouth moved from his neck to his shoulder. Desire built in him, but he waited. One thing he’d learned from the year of platonic friendship Christina had put him through before he’d convinced her to take a chance on him—pent-up desire could enhance his music. Everything came out in the music—joy, sadness, anger, love, angst, frustration—as long as he was open to it. They’d been together for three years, and he hoped Christina was ready to take things to the next level.
She kissed her way back up his neck and tugged his earlobe between her sharp teeth.
“Chris,” he warned.
“Keep playing,” she teased as her tongue ran along the shell of his ear. The woman drove him crazy. He wanted her just as much now as the first time they’d hooked up. Like she was his next breath.
He shifted, held her by the chin, and met her startlingly bright blue eyes. “I’ll play you next.” Her eyes darkened with desire. Her body was his instrument, and he knew well how to play the full range from soft gasps to full-throated screams.
He set his guitar back in its case before joining her in the bed, sitting next to her. He gazed into her eyes as he cradled her cheek with one hand. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” she said before climbing into his lap and wrapping her arms and legs around him. She was a petite five foot three to his six-foot frame, and he loved the way she fit against him perfectly. She started kissing his neck, nipping and tasting as she went.
“Have you thought about what I said?” he asked, running his hands down her back. She was never more agreeable than when they were in bed, which was why he brought it up now. He wanted to marry her, settle down, and start a family. His birthday loomed only weeks away, and the closer he got to the big 4-0, the more urgent it felt.
“No,” she said, still kissing his neck. “Don’t talk about it.”
“It’s important. I really want—”
“Don’t ruin the moment,” she said before pressing her lips to his roughly, igniting him. He gripped her hair, taking over the kiss, and let it go. For now.
~ ~ ~
Christina was a lot of things—tough, determined, no-nonsense—but she was not a fool. Most women she knew would’ve been over the moon to have rocker Griffin Huntley asking them to take things to the next level—marriage, family, kids, the whole shebang. Not her. They had a good thing going, and she knew marriage would ruin everything. She was intimately acquainted with how Griff treated his first wife, Steph, because his ex had married Christina’s sweet younger brother (truly a twisted situation and a whole ’nother complicated story). Griff had cheated on Steph for years with A-list movie stars and supermodels; their faces and entwined bodies plastered all over the tabloids. Add in the fact that Christina’s first husband left her when he got his mistress pregnant and fuggedaboudit!
She slipped on a little black dress for the New Year’s Eve party they were heading to at a friend’s penthouse apartm
ent in the city (Manhattan was always called “the city” by anyone who lived around here) and headed to the full-length mirror to check that everything was in order. “Griff, can you zip me?”
He appeared behind her and stroked a warm hand down her spine, causing electric frissons of sensation before slowly zipping her up. He met her eyes in the mirror. She’d never get tired of looking at him. Short-cropped black hair with some spikes on top framed the most gorgeous face she’d ever seen with soulful hazel eyes, straight nose with a cute upturn at the end, permanently scruffy jaw, and full lower lip.
He kissed the tender spot on her neck just below her ear, sending hot shivers through her. “I got you something.”
She looked away, fearing he was going to push the issue with a ring. He’d been pushing for a more permanent commitment the closer it got to his birthday. She planned on waiting him out, certain it was just a midlife crisis.
Griff settled a silver necklace with a starburst pendant decorated with pearls and gold balls around her neck. It was funky and modern and perfectly suited her.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
She turned and threw her arms around his neck. “I love it.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her. She lifted her head, meeting his hazel eyes, and an electric attraction hummed between them. He dipped his head, slowly pressing his lips to hers. She returned the kiss in her usual aggressive way, which amped him up. His mouth turned hungry, devouring her, and she felt her body revving up for more as he palmed her ass and pressed her flush against him.
She tore her mouth away. “Maybe we should bail on the party.”
Griff stroked her throat, trailing over her exposed collarbone. “I promised Rob I’d play a few songs tonight.” Rob Hillman was the host of the party and star of the movie franchise Hacker. The party would be full of celebrities—actors, musicians, professional athletes. “Besides, Ellie from Savage Release is going to be there to get an early scoop.”
She stiffened. Savage Release was the online music magazine catering to the younger demographic that Griff needed to sustain his career. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was, as his manager, she’d already arranged the interview for next week and Griff hadn’t breathed a word about changing the meeting.
“You mad, babe?” Griff asked, stroking her hair back over her ear.
“I’m just surprised you arranged it without me.” She handled all the business end of things for him so he could focus on his music. Until recently, she’d also managed his money, though she was slowly passing that role on to a financial planner she’d hired.
“I thought it’d be good for Ellie to see me in a casual setting. You know, get a more personal look at my life. Instead of just a Q&A sitting at some restaurant.”
“That’s fine,” she said, forcing a level tone. She didn’t want to spoil his night.
He looked relieved. That was the thing about Griff. What many didn’t realize because of his confident badass rocker swagger—he had a sensitive soul. It was what made his music great, but also what made him tune in to the slightest shift in her tone or mood. She wasn’t sensitive at all, but she was compassionate. It was why she’d become an oncology nurse, though she’d happily left that grueling job behind three years ago to work full time as Griff’s manager. In any case, she tried to spare his feelings when she could.
He gave her a quick kiss. “How do I look? Did I clean up okay?”
She took in his dark blue button-down shirt and gray dress pants, an unusual outfit for the man who favored T-shirts and jeans. The long sleeves hid his tattoos. He’d changed his ex-wife’s name to a decorative spiral motif. He’d wanted to add her name, but Christina never wanted to become a permanent decoration.
“Not bad,” she teased.
“Not bad,” he growled before pinching her butt. She yelped and smacked his arm away.
He gave her a small smile. “Ready for the crazy?” He meant was she ready to face the crowd that always hovered outside their brownstone. His fans kept close tabs on him.
She nodded, slipped into her heels, and headed downstairs. She punched in the security code by the front door to disable the alarm system while Griff got their coats and then bounced in place, psyching himself up. He didn’t have a bodyguard, but she’d insisted on the alarm system when they’d woken up one night at three a.m. to find a naked young woman in their bedroom, watching Griff sleep. So-o-o creepy.
He helped her into her long white wool coat and then pulled on his signature black leather jacket and a gray knit cap.
“Get set,” he said with a grin. He loved the spotlight.
She stroked his scruffy jaw. “Go.”
Griff went out first, shielding her from the paparazzi with his body. The crowd of mostly women hovering near their waiting limo went wild with screams.
“There he is!”
“It’s Griffin Huntley!”
“Griffin! Over here! Over here!”
“I love you, Griffin!”
She locked the door behind them and hit the code. Griff smiled and did a hand wave that took them all in. He stopped to sign a few autographs while she got into the limo. Some paparazzi nearby snapped pictures as Griff smiled the whole time. After a few minutes, he gave his usual apologetic smiling goodbye and joined her in the limo.
They took off, heading into the city. Griff stretched out his arms along the backseat of the limo, resting one hand on her shoulder. “Not as many as I thought,” he said.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” she replied. “I’m sure most people are at parties. And it is thirty degrees out.”
He nodded. He lived for the fans as much as they lived for him. If there wasn’t a huge crowd, he worried people were forgetting about him. She knew it was good he embraced publicity, but, at the same time, sometimes it went to his head. Her job was to bring him back to earth every once in a while. For the most part, she embraced the fame. After all, she’d helped build it.
Once they arrived at the party, Griff was immediately surrounded by a circle of admirers, and she drifted away in search of a drink. His charisma alone would’ve kept him the center of attention, but his fame had reached all-new levels after this year’s global tour and record-breaking album. Even other celebrities looked at him in awe. It was everything she’d dreamed of for him and she reminded herself of that whenever it was hard to share him.
She snagged a glass of champagne from a tuxedoed waiter moving among the guests, said hello to the few people she recognized, and worked her way back to Griff. He was smiling and chatting with two beautiful blond actresses when his gaze landed on her and his face lit up with a genuine smile that always made her feel better.
He pulled her over to his side. “This is my manager and girlfriend, Christina,” he said, introducing her to the two young women as he always did. Sometimes he threw in “ballbuster” or “muse,” depending on his mood, always in an affectionate tone. Not that any of his admirers cared about her.
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
She got a polite hello from one actress, a lip curl from the other. More people pressed in, trying to get a piece of him. A word, a nod, an autograph, some crazy fans wanted a lock of his hair which she would not allow, the nutjobs. And then the young reporter from Savage Release, Ellie, pushed in, hugging them both, acting like they were best friends though they’d just met. She had orange hair and a nose ring, in odd contrast to her almost conservative long-sleeved navy blue dress with a ruffle on the bottom. Christina was immediately wary. Some of the slicker reporters were like that, acting super friendly to get the stars to let their guard down and give them some personal admission that would become headline news.
Within a few minutes of chitchat about the weather and Griff’s latest album, Griff announced he was going to play. He settled with his guitar on a burgundy crushed-velvet sofa in the living room and everyone crowded in to listen. She finished her champagne, set the glass down on a nearby tray, and stood to the right side w
here he always knew to look for her.
He strummed a few notes, tuning his guitar, and the room fell silent.
He always started with his breakout song, “Crazy Thing,” which was based on her. He’d once thought she was crazy when she fought on her brother’s behalf to get Griff to divorce his first wife (only so her brother could marry her). He continued with a few of his new rocking anthems and finished with a ballad that she’d heard many, many times about a love that went soul deep. He’d written it not about a woman, but about his passion for music. Another reason she knew better than to marry him—she’d always come in second in his heart. She was much too practical to spend even one minute worrying over it. She knew her place, and what they had worked just fine.
But this time when he finished the last note, he looked right at her and said quietly, “That song is dedicated to Christina, the love of my life.” She startled. Griff had never ever called her the love of his life. She knew that honor went to his music.
The room erupted in applause and whistles.
Their gazes locked. And then he set the guitar down, crossed to her, and went down on one knee.
She froze in horror. What was he doing? Was this a publicity stunt? Was that why he’d wanted the reporter from Savage Release here?
And then he asked her in front of a room full of people she barely knew, “Will you marry me?”
Chapter Two
Christina fought back tears. Griff had never used her for publicity before. She’d witnessed him trying to force his ex-wife’s hand with this kind of devious tactic, but she’d thought she meant more to him.
People were staring and the room fell into a hushed silence, waiting for her response.
Griff gave her his charming smile. “Well?” He raised his palms and gestured to the crowd to join in, to cheer him on. Like this was all a game. Some catcalls rang out. People started chanting, “Say yes, say yes, say yes.” Idiots.
The reporter was snapping pictures. This was a nightmare. She refused to play into his little publicity stunt. How dare he use her like this! She did a head swivel, about to lay into him, when he sprang up and wrapped his arms around her.
Almost Fate Page 1