With Me in Seattle Bundle One

by Kristen Proby

  “Set this alarm when I leave.” He glares down at me, daring me to defy him, and I giggle.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Seven

  “How many times have you been here?” Will asks me as we stand in line waiting to purchase tickets for Seattle’s Experience Music Project Museum. It’s so much more than a music museum.

  I love this place.

  “Dozens.” I smile up at him—geez, he’s tall—and squeeze his hand. “It changes all the time, with new exhibits and stuff. Plus, I could just sit and stare at the guitars for days. Have you ever been?”

  “No, I’ve just never taken the time.” He winks down at me. “I’m a rookie.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll protect you.”

  He smirks and pays for our tickets, and I lead him into the museum.

  We wander up to the second floor where the exhibits are, and I get lost in Jimi Hendrix, Nirvana, The Stones, the guitar gallery. I point out interesting tidbits of information for Will and drag him from room to room.

  I love sharing this with him, and I love how interested he seems. He’s not just tagging along, trying to make me happy.

  Best. Date. Ever.

  We head up to the third floor and stand and stare at the enormous guitar sculpture. It’s at least fifty feet tall and is made up of real guitars, of all different shapes and sizes and colors. My eyes travel up it, examining the instruments, and I feel Will’s eyes on me.

  “What?” I ask without looking at him.

  “You look awesome in that outfit.”

  “This old thing?” I ask and smirk, still not looking away from the sculpture. I’m in a white V-neck T-shirt with a loose, brown cotton vest over skinny blue jeans.

  After a few moments, he’s still watching me.

  “Do I have something on my face?” I ask drily.

  “No, you’re just so beautiful, with your auburn hair spilling down your back and pink lips parted. I like watching you. You love this, don’t you?”

  “More than almost anything,” I respond truthfully. Music saved me when I was taken from Sylvia. It was my whole life in college.

  “I’ve heard there’s a place here where you can get onstage,” Will comments casually, and I grin.

  “There is. No, I’m not getting on it,” I murmur before he can suggest it.

  “Why?”

  “Stage fright,” I reply and start to lead him away from the sculpture.

  “Bullshit.” Will laughs and pulls me against him, his front to my back, and wraps his arms around my waist, kissing my head. “You’re not shy, sweetheart.”

  “I just don’t want to.”

  “I would love to hear you. Please?”

  I sigh against him. I haven’t sung for anyone other than my patients since college. Since the band broke up and Leo left town.

  “Maybe,” I mutter, and he chuckles behind me.

  “Let’s go find it. Before you change your mind.”

  “It’s not far.”

  We turn a corner, and sure enough, there it is. There’s a room with a stage boasting instruments, lights, even a sound machine that will emit applause and crowd sounds if you really want to feel like a rock star.

  Because it’s the middle of the week, there aren’t many people wandering through the museum today, and this room is empty, which is unusual, because most people love interactive exhibits.

  “Go ahead. I’m dying here.”

  I grin up at him and wrinkle my nose, then gaze back at the stage.

  “Why not?” I shrug and climb onstage. I grab an acoustic guitar, plug it into the amp and sit on a stool in the middle of the stage.

  There’s suddenly a spotlight on me, and one of the museum employees waves at me and speaks into a mic. “You’re ready to go, miss.”

  I nod and strum the guitar, making sure it’s in tune, and speak to Will through the mic.

  “What do you want to hear, sir?”

  Will laughs. “Whatever you know.”

  “I know a lot.” I search through the library in my head and settle on one. “Okay, this one is called I Never Told You.”

  I strum the guitar and clear my throat and murmur, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  Will laughs at me, his eyes happy and trained intently on me, and I just smile and shake my head and continue playing the intro, and then start singing about a blue-eyed boy whom I miss after all the things we’d been through. The song is sweet and a little sad, and reminds me a little of Leo, although I was never in love with Leo.

  The song comes to an end. I open my eyes and look out at Will. His face is completely sober, his eyes unblinking and still trained on me. He’s leaned his elbows on his knees and isn’t moving.

  Glancing around, it occurs to me that other patrons have filed in to listen to the song and are now applauding, snapping me into the here and now. I smile and say thanks, put the guitar away and walk down the steps toward Will, who is now standing, waiting patiently for me.

  “Come here.” He crooks his finger at me, and I comply, walking to him.

  He pulls me into his arms and off my feet, buries his face in my neck and holds on tight. I have no choice but to wrap my arms tightly around his neck.

  “That was beautiful. Meg, why did you ever stop?” he asks as he sets me down, takes my hand and leads me out of the theater. If he hears the other patrons murmur about him being Will Montgomery and snapping our photo with their cell phones, he pays them no mind.

  “Leo left.” I shrug and feel a tug on my arm as Will stops dead in his tracks.

  “Who the fuck is Leo?”

  “He was my best friend since I was twelve, and bandmate. He’s five years older.”

  “And you were in a band together?” Will asks, his voice no softer, and I sigh.

  “Yes, through high school and college. We got pretty good. He decided to pursue a career in music down in LA, and I chose to stay here and finish nursing school.” Of course, I leave out the part about Leo signing with a band behind my back and that he’s now the lead singer of one of the hottest bands in the freaking world.

  “Do you really prefer nursing? Honey, you’re a fantastic musician.”

  “Thank you.” I kiss his cheek as he holds my door open for me to climb into his car. When he joins me in the car, I continue. “I love being a nurse, Will. I’m a damn good one.”

  “I know you are.” He takes my hand in his and kisses my fingers before linking them with his and lays our hands in his lap. “I’m just surprised. With a voice like yours, you could go really far.”

  “I’m where I need to be,” I say softly.

  “Okay.” He winks at me and grins. “Thank you for singing for me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asks.

  I check the time and gasp. “We spent all afternoon there! It’s almost dinnertime. So, yeah, I’m hungry.”

  “Wanna try burgers again?” he asks with a grin, and I smirk.

  “Not downtown.”

  “Nah, I know a place.”

  ***

  “I want to show you something,” Will says out of the blue.

  We’re in his car, having finished our burgers at Red Mill, the same place where we first met that day when I ran into him and Jules.

  “What?”

  “Well, you shared a really important part of yourself with me today.”

  It thrills me that he understands how important music is to me. I smile at him and wait for him to continue.

  “So, I want to share something important to me with you.”

  “I’m game,” I reply happily.

  “Ironic choice of words.” Will chuckles and merges onto Interstate 5 heading south into the city center. I sit back into the plush leather seat and enjoy the ride. God, I love this car. It turns me on, big-time.

  I look over at Will and lick my lips.

  He glances my way and then does a double take and gives me a confused smile.

  “Wh
at?”

  “Your car is sexy.”

  “Are we back to this again?” he asks and laughs as he changes lanes.

  “You look sexy as hell in this car.” I turn in my seat and face him.

  His eyes find mine again. “This is only the second date.”

  As if I need a reminder.

  “Yep.”

  “You keep fucking me with your eyes like that—”

  “And what?” I interrupt him. “You had me naked and coming on my couch last night and didn’t break the rule. I doubt me eye-fucking you will make you break it either.”

  “Jesus, keep talking like that, honey, and see how fast I break your rule. You have quite the dirty mouth, you know.”

  “I know.” I shrug and laugh. “I went to college with Jules and Natalie. Have you heard them talk lately?”

  Will smirks and takes an exit off the freeway.

  “Besides,” I continue, “I hung out with a band full of guys. I was never destined to have a clean mouth.”

  Suddenly, it occurs to me that maybe my language offends him.

  “Does it bother you?” I ask.

  “Does what bother me?” he asks and pulls into a private underground parking lot under the football stadium.

  “My mouth.”

  “Your mouth is delicious.”

  “My language, smart-ass,” I mutter and smack his arm.

  “Ouch! You like it rough, sweetheart?” He offers me a wolfish smile, and I laugh.

  “Sometimes, yeah.”

  This gives him pause. He parks the car, shuts it off and stares at me. “Seriously.”

  “Sure.” I shrug. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He just stares at me, his mouth agape.

  I rub his thigh gently with my fingertips. “Will?”

  “Yeah?” He comes out of his trance and swallows.

  “Does my language offend you?”

  “No.” He shakes his head and frowns. “You’re not nearly as bad as Jules.”

  “Few are, Will.” I laugh and climb out of his sexy car. He waits for me, takes my hand, and leads me to an elevator.

  “So, obviously, we’re at the football-playing place,” I comment casually in the elevator.

  “Football-playing place?” Will asks and doubles over in laughter.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Do you know anything about football?” he asks, delighted with me, and I glare at him.

  “Of course I do.”

  “What position do I play?” he asks.

  “Is this a quiz?”

  “A little one.”

  “You’re the quarterback.”

  “Who do I throw the ball to?” He ushers me out of the elevator and then leans against a wall and crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Another guy in a Seattle football uniform,” I respond confidently. “Usually,” I add, earning a glare from him.

  “I’m going to torture you for that.”

  “I hope so, babe.” I grin at him, and his face sobers. “What?”

  “Why can you call me ‘babe,’ but I can’t call you that?” he asks.

  Good point. I frown and shrug. “I guess ‘babe’ doesn’t sound like ‘baby’ to me. It sounds more grown-up, maybe? I don’t know. It doesn’t weird me out, though.”

  “Okay, so noted. Come on.”

  He takes my hand again and pulls me down a long hall and through an enormous set of double doors that open up to a tunnel that leads to the football field. All of the stadium lights are on. It’s empty.

  “How…?”

  “I called ahead while you were in the restroom at the restaurant and asked someone to turn the lights on for me.” He continues pulling me out on the field and stops, right in the center of the fifty-yard line.

  “Wow,” I whisper and look around the stadium. “How many people can this seat?” I ask.

  “Sixty-seven thousand,” he states, like it’s no big thing, and I stare at him with an open mouth and wide eyes.

  “Holy shit.”

  “We sell out every weekend.”

  I knew that. Yet, being here, right here, in the middle of the field, looking around at the empty stadium seats, at the enormity of this place, just about knocks me on my ass.

  In fact, I just sit, right there, on the turf.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, his brow creasing with worry, and joins me on the ground.

  I’m speechless as I gaze around the stadium, and it occurs to me that this could have been me, onstage, singing in front of sixty-seven thousand people, rather than small little clubs around Seattle, or reception halls full of wedding guests. If Leo hadn’t made the decision to go without me, I would have been singing in places just like this one.

  “Meg?” Will’s worried voice pulls me out of my trance, and I shrug.

  “You must not get stage fright either,” I murmur.

  “Only during the play-offs,” he replies and pushes my hair back over my shoulder.

  I love how he’s always touching me. “You’re a lot to take in, you know?” I ask him.

  He smiles shyly, then frowns for a second, looking down at this hands. “I can be, yeah. But remember, this is just what I do. It’s only part of who I am.”

  “It’s important to you,” I remind him, and he nods.

  “Very. I’ve played football for as long as I can remember.” He takes one of my hands in his and toys with my fingers. “Football got me through school, Meg. I knew I had to get good grades and stay out of trouble if I wanted to stay on the team. And I did. I wanted the camaraderie with the guys. I had some really smart coaches who pushed me and taught me. It earned me a scholarship to college, and I worked my ass off there, too.”

  He takes a deep breath and looks up, his eyes taking in the stadium, the scoreboard, the ads. “This is all I ever wanted, and I was lucky enough to get here.”

  “This isn’t luck,” I state firmly, and his gaze whips to mine, surprised. “Will, this is the result of you working your ass off and earning it. I may not know everything there is to know about football, but I know that it’s not easy, and I know that I’m so very proud of you. Not because of your contract, or the jersey you wear—which you look damn hot in, by the way—but because you’re doing what you always dreamed of. How many of us can say that?”

  His eyes soften as he cups my cheek in his big hand and rubs his thumb across my lower lip. He leans toward me and brushes his magical lips over mine, and then sinks into me, pushing me back to lie on the turf. He runs that hand down my face, over my breast, and rests it on my hip as he continues to make love to my mouth, his tongue searching and dancing. Our breathing quickens and, dear God, I want him.

  He pulls back and gazes down at me. “Someone’s probably watching us,” he murmurs. He kisses my forehead and then settles on his back beside me. We just lie here, breathing hard.

  “I should tell you something,” I whisper.

  “What?” I feel him look over at me, but I just look up at the black night sky above the brightly lit, empty stadium.

  “I want to suck your dick in your car.”

  “What?!” He pushes up on his elbow, leans over me, and makes me look him in the eye. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

  “Your car makes me crazy, Will.” I lick my lips and grin. “All I’ve thought about since the other day is going down on you in your car.”

  I’ve never seen anyone spring to their feet so quickly in my life. He pulls me to my feet as well and starts stalking back the way we came.

  “Slow down! Will, your legs are longer than mine!” I’m practically running behind him, and he stops abruptly and turns back to me. He looks pissed, his eyes narrowed and on fire, mouth tight, jaw clenched. I take an involuntary step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like such a whore, I just…”

  “If you ever call yourself a whore again”—he pushes his face into mine, his nose only centimeters from touching my own—“I will take you over my knee and
spank the hell out of you. Do you understand me? You turn me inside out. I want to fuck you seven ways to Sunday, and I want to make long, slow, sweet love to you for days. I’m craving you, goddamn it, and you can’t just say shit like that to me when I know what you taste like, and what you look like, and I need desperately to know what the fuck you feel like.”

  I blink at him, completely thrown.

  Well, okay then.

  “Now, as much as I want to strip you naked and take you on the fifty-yard line, I don’t need those photos surfacing on the Internet any more than you do.”

  And with that he bends down and, in one swift move, lifts me onto his shoulder and begins carrying me off the field, just as quickly as he was before.

  “I can walk,” I remind him.

  “Not fast enough,” he mutters and slaps my ass.

  “Hey!”

  “You deserve that and more. Now shut up, Megan.”

  Holy fuck.

  We get to the car, and he sets me on my feet, and then helps me into the passenger seat. He walks briskly around the car and folds himself easily behind the wheel, starts the car and pulls out of the garage, speeding toward the freeway.

  His handsome face is scowling, and he won’t look at me.

  I’m not sure what to think. Why is he so pissed off? Too much sexual tension? Well, join the club, sexy man.

  “So—” I start, but he interrupts me.

  “Don’t talk.”

  What?

  We’re back on Interstate 5, heading north this time, and he’s driving way past the speed limit. He passes the exit for my place, and I frown over at him, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. Suddenly, he’s pulling off the freeway, turns left, and follows the road to an exclusive part of Seattle. The homes are set back from the road behind gates. He approaches the end of the street, pulls into a drive and enters a code for the gate.

  “The code is 051877. Can you remember that?”

  “Oh, so you’re speaking to me,” I mutter sarcastically.

  He just looks over at me expectantly until I huff and say, “051877.”

  The gate opens, and Will drives us down to a beautiful home that has an unbelievable view of the Puget Sound. From what I can see in the semidarkness, the house is a traditional-style stone house, two stories, with a four-car garage.