by Lisa Suzanne
I know he’s asking about the I hope you say yes part, but I’m not ready to give him an answer either way on that yet. So instead, I laugh. “My first day was a total success.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “It was worth a shot.”
“I’m sorry, Gav, but I’m just not ready to make that decision yet. It’s all happening so fast.”
“I understand.” He nods once and walks over to the fridge, where he pulls out a bottle of water. “Want one?”
“Sure,” I say. He hands it to me and slides into the chair beside me, and when our knees bump, a tingle runs through me. I don’t move my knee, and neither does he.
“I hate this,” I murmur as I look out the window at the calming beach just steps away.
“What?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “I just...I have real feelings for you. I haven’t had real feelings for anyone since Chase.” He winces at the sound of his adversary’s name, but I plow forward because I need to say this. “I thought someone else was everything I wanted, and I owe it to myself to explore it. But it’s killing me knowing that it’s hurting you.”
He closes his eyes for a beat, and when they open, he focuses his gaze out the window before turning to me. “I’m not gonna sugar coat it, Laney. It hurts. I hate it, too. But this is who you are. It’s who you’ve always been. Do you remember when you couldn’t decide which college to attend? Your parents pushed you to Stanford, but you secretly wanted USC. You only told me that. Back then, you took your time to think through every possibility, every choice, every fine detail before you made an informed decision, and then you went with it one hundred percent. That’s always been you, and I get that. I’ll wait for you to think it through, no matter how hard it is or how long it takes. Because if it’s me in the end, I’ll know that you’re one hundred percent invested in what we could have together.”
Tears fill my eyes at his words. “Thank you,” I whisper, placing my hand over his across the table and squeezing.
Our eyes meet in the middle and I can see the understanding there. It’s a total and complete relief to know how well he knows me even after all this time, and something about our conversation seems to cement our bond even further.
“You had some questions for me?” he asks, changing the subject with lightness and ease.
I clear my throat. “You mentioned your record company wants you to record a new album.”
He chuckles—probably at my obvious lack of knowledge in his field. “Yes, our label would like us to have new music out that we can promote on tour.”
“What does that entail?”
“Recording an album?”
I nod.
“It’s partially done already, actually.” He runs his hand through his hair, and it moves back into its usual position. “We have four songs recorded, one of which we’re releasing next week, and we’ve been working to perfect the final six or seven before we hit the studio. We head to the studio and we each record our parts separately. The sound engineers put it all together to make it what you hear when our record releases.”
“I guess my question was whether I’d get to see you much when you’re working on an album.”
“It’s sort of like any job, I guess.” He lifts a casual shoulder, and I can’t help but think he’s a little crazy. “I’ll have days when I’m busier than others.”
“Uh, Gavin, I hate to drag you out of the clouds and back to reality, but being a rock star is most certainly not like any job.” I tap my nails on the side of the water bottle.
He raises a brow like I just issued a challenge. “Are there things you love about your job?”
“Of course.”
“Like what?” he asks.
“Like when I find a way to reach a kid who was really struggling with something. It’s rewarding. And I also love donut Fridays in the teachers’ lounge.”
He laughs. “Okay, fair enough. And are there things you hate about your job?”
I press my lips together and nod.
“Like what?” he repeats.
“Demanding parents. Misbehaving nine-year-olds. Teaching fractions. Should I go on?”
“Do you dislike what you do?”
I shrug. “No, but there’s not a lot of room to climb and the day to day stuff often feels like a grind. Same shit, different day. You know?”
He chugs from his water bottle then looks at me and raises both brows. “You think that’s so different from what I do?”
“Your job feels like a grind?”
“Some days, especially on tour. It’s a lot of moving between cities, being stuck in a small space with too many other people, playing the same set night after night.”
“Way to sell me on saying yes,” I mutter under my breath.
He chuckles. “I’m just trying to prove a point. Every job has things we’re gonna love about it, and the opposite is also true. Every time it starts to feel like a grind, I remind myself how goddamn lucky I am to get to do what I do. That chases away the negativity pretty fast. Moving between cities? At least I get to see them. Being stuck in a small space? I’m with my best friends. Playing the same set? It’s songs our crowd loves, and that alone amps me up.”
“What do you love about it?” I study him as I try to classify my real feelings.
“Just about everything else. I’m very lucky and incredibly grateful that I get to do what I do. It’s the best job in the world.” He’s passionate as he talks, his eyes sparkling with excitement, and it makes him inexplicably even hotter.
“You should’ve started with that. It’s a much better sales pitch.”
He grins. “Just being honest. And to answer your question from earlier, yes, we’ll be able to see each other between now and when the tour launches. I’ve got events scheduled, plus practice every day and meetings with our label, our lawyer, our agent, and so on, but I will always make time with you a top priority.”
The heat creeps up into my cheeks again. I can’t believe how much he’s willing to do for me. I want to ask him why again, but I’m sure I’ll be met with the same answer as earlier.
“Okay. That was all I wanted to know,” I finally say, my voice quiet. “For now, anyway.”
“I’m glad you stopped by to ask.”
“Because I saved you the trip for the flowers?” I ask, teasing him.
He smiles but shakes his head. “I like seeing you here in my house. Sitting at my table. In my periphery when I look out at the view. You just manage to make everything better.”
“That’s a nice thing to say.” I’m embarrassed by his compliments.
“Whenever I’m going through a tough time, you know what I always think of?”
I shake my head and hold up my palms. “What?”
“The first time I kissed you.”
My brows draw down. “When did you kiss me?”
“That night you and the football player broke up.” I chuckle at his reference to the past, when he always used to call Chase that rather than use his name. I’m starting to get why now. “It was just my lips meeting the side of your head, but you sort of froze and I felt like there was all this potential there that you’d never been able to see before because you’d been so blinded by him. And then when you snuck me out in the morning, you kissed my cheek, and you have no idea what that did to me, Laney.”
The way he tells the story of the past has me enraptured. “What did it do to you?” I whisper.
“It tore me up for weeks. And then everything happened with your family and you wouldn’t see me. I was devastated. But I’d hold my hand over my cheek where you kissed me, and I’d feel your lips still there, and I decided to give you the time you wanted. I just never imagined that time would turn into a decade.”
I sniffle at his words, and then I can’t help myself. I stand from the table, move toward him, and seat myself on his lap. His arms automatically snake around my waist to balance me, and I brush my lips across his cheek. “Like this?” I whisper.
When he opens his eyes, they’re hooded with lust and need. “More like this.” He tilts my chin up with his fingertips and his mouth crashes down to mine. It’s aggressive, this kiss, more aggressive than the others we’ve shared, and as his lips mold and conform to mine, I can’t help but think once again that it should be him. We have a solid base of friendship for our foundation, and even though we lost touch for a number of years, it doesn’t feel like any time has passed.
So what’s stopping me from telling him that?
Deep down, I know the answer, but I can’t think clearly when Gavin’s tongue is thrashing against mine. I readjust, tossing one leg on his other side without breaking from his mouth so I’m not seated across his lap but straddling him. I link my arms around his broad shoulders, and his hands move down to my ass as he repositions me so I can feel the length of his hardness through his jeans. He thrusts into me with a soft grunt, and I nearly fall apart in his arms.
I take the opportunity to push my hips down when he drives up toward me again, and this time his grunt is met with a moan of my own. His strong hands move from my ass up my back and into my hair as he keeps kissing me, the passion and intensity only propelling us forward into some dimension I’ve never visited before. I need these clothes out of our way. I need to feel his skin on mine, to break the barrier of the pants between us, to feel him thrusting into my body. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt such a strong, carnal urge to fuck.
“Get a room.”
Three words kill our intimate moment.
My mouth is still against Gavin’s because of the way one of his arms is squeezing me tightly against him and the other is up in my hair when I say, “I forgot to mention Liam’s home.”
He chuckles and releases me. I sit back a little, shifting over his dick, and he grunts out his dissatisfaction with the movement. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m turning him on even more with my movement.
“What time is our meeting with Ashmark tomorrow?” Liam asks.
I’m still on Gavin’s lap when he says, “Nine.”
“Why so fucking early again?” he whines.
Gavin rolls his eyes for my benefit and shrugs for Liam’s. “Because we’re professional adults and that’s when business is conducted.”
“Not for rock stars.”
“Why, you got somewhere more important to be?” Gavin challenges. I move to stand, but Gavin grabs me and pulls me back with a tiny shake of his head as if to say, you’re not getting away so easily. My knees feel a little shaky at the notion.
Liam’s eyes edge over to me. “Maybe.” He doesn’t want to say, and my gut tells me it’s either because he’s planning to be with Rose or he’s planning to be with some other woman.
“What’s the meeting about?” I ask.
“We’re finalizing tour details and signing the contract,” he says softly, like it might make the news easier to take if his voice is lower. It’s not hard to take it, exactly, but since I don’t have an answer for him yet, it’s not exactly easy, either.
“How exciting!” I say with way too much brightness in my tone.
Gavin offers a small smile, and I force myself off his lap and back to my own chair when Liam takes a seat at the table. Apparently sexy time is over.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Gavin hints to Liam with a little snarl.
Liam grins. “Right here keeping you kids from making poor choices.”
“Thanks,” Gavin mutters, and then he stands and holds out his hand to me. “We actually have practice in about a half hour, and I need to do a few things. You’re welcome to hang around if you want.”
I slide my hand into his. “I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not.” He looks at Liam. “Right?”
Liam shakes his head. “We have people over for practice all the time. Fair warning, though, it’ll be boring as fuck.”
I giggle. “Maybe next time. I didn’t mean to come over and interrupt your whole day. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by to say hi, but I should go. I’ve got some things to do at home, too.” It’s a lie, but it gives me a reason to leave so I’m not intruding on band time. If Gavin and I end up together, I never want the other guys in the band to look at me like I shouldn’t be here.
Gavin’s brow furrows as he pins me with an incredulous gaze. “You were in this neighborhood?”
I nod. “Rose has an event a few miles away from here and I went to help her out for a bit. I think I was more of a distraction than a help.”
“You? A distraction? Never,” Liam mutters, and both Gavin and I turn to him with a glare.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Kidding, kidding. Though I have spotted our man Gavin here with his head in the clouds a little more than usual the last few days.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Gavin shoots back, and then he mouths something to Liam that I don’t quite catch. “I’ll walk you out,” he says to me, shaking his head at his friend as he places his hand on the small of my back.
I ignore the thrill I feel with his hand on my body, and too soon we’re walking down the porch step and toward my car. A brief image of just last night when Chase pushed me up against the car to kiss me in a parking lot flashes through my mind, and this is exactly why I’m undecided.
I still love Chase. I’m falling in love with Gavin.
Is it possible to be in love with two different men at the same time?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I always take the window seat on an airplane. Ever since I was a little girl and my brothers and I would fight over who got the window, I’ve taken it when I’ve been able to.
And now, I stare out the window from the first-class seat Chase bought and paid for as the plane touches down on the runway in Denver less than two and a half hours after we took off. My brain is still a muddled mess of emotions, and my chest hurts as I remember how Gavin deflated when I told him I was going to Denver.
I shouldn’t feel guilty. I’m following my heart, which for ten years told me that no one could ever compare to the man I thought was the love of my life.
I know the logic of that idea is flawed. We were young. We didn’t know what love was. I spent the last ten years putting what we had on this untouchable pedestal when it didn’t deserve to be there.
But what if it did deserve to be there? What if it really was love? Don’t I owe it to myself to find out?
Gavin knows the truth...that Chase is still on the table.
But Chase doesn’t know the truth about Gavin, and this weekend is the time I need to discuss it with him.
Once I’m in the baggage claim area, I spot my last name on a tablet. That must be the ride Chase arranged for me. He told me that’s what he was going to do, and I try not to feel a little slighted that he chose to arrange a ride for me rather than pick me up himself for this weekend. I try to remind myself that he’s a celebrity who would likely be mobbed in this busy airport.
“I’m Delaney Lockwood,” I say to the man holding the sign, and he nods.
“Ray,” he says, tapping off the tablet. “Let’s get your luggage.”
I shake my head. “It’s all here.” I nod toward my small carry-on suitcase.
His brows furrow. “Oh...okay,” he says, disbelief evident in his tone that a girl could actually travel nearly three hours by plane with only one bag for a three-day trip. It makes me wonder how often Chase does this sort of thing.
I follow Ray to a big SUV waiting at the curb with someone else in the actual driver’s seat. He tosses my bag in the back and helps me in before sliding into the front, and then we’re off. Forty minutes later, we
’re pulling in front of a huge circular driveway.
On one side is a sprawling red brick mansion, and in the center of the circle sit huge trees and a fountain. I look a little harder at it, and it’s not your standard lawn fountain. This freaking thing actually has a football player in it, and he’s spitting the water out of his mouth onto his opponents.
Barring the rather interesting lawn decoration, this looks more like my parents’ old house than a single man’s bachelor pad. Cars are all over the driveway, and I can’t help but wonder if this is actually Chase’s place or if these drivers were instructed to bring me somewhere else.
And then I see it: an orange and blue flag near the fountain with the number eighty-eight on it.
Chase’s number.
My heart wavers a little in my chest that we’re actually here. I’m at Chase’s freaking house. He invited me here. It’s been ten years, and I’m finally here.
I’m staring out the window up at the monstrosity before me, completely lost in thought when someone says, “Ma’am?”
I glance over to see Ray standing there, my suitcase beside him. “Are you ready to go inside?”
My eyes widen and I nod. I hadn’t even heard him get out of the car, let alone get my suitcase and open my door. I shouldn’t be in awe like this—this is exactly what I grew up around, yet it’s not my life anymore. It’s sort of inspiring to see that someone my own age, someone that I know—and, once upon a time, knew intimately—lives here.
I lag a little behind Ray as I follow him to the massive front door surrounded by huge white columns on either side, wondering whether I can actually fit into this kind of lifestyle again.
When he opens the door, Chase stands in a simple pair of jeans and a black t-shirt at the bottom of a massive iron double staircase. Shiny concrete flooring surrounds me, giving the place a masculine feel, and if I look straight through between the two sets of stairs, I can see beyond Chase into the kitchen and out a wall of glass into the backyard. It looks pretty far away, but even from here I can see a swimming pool out there.