“So, you know them,” I conclude.
“You can say that,” he says casually, and I think this is more than I know them.
He’s maybe a year or two older than Jackson. Jason is right behind them. I bet he partied with them. I could give him a hard time about it just because he’s trying to hide it, but I won’t.
“They’re not going to be happy about this,” I inform him.
“Tell me more about you.” He brushes away what I just said.
“Have you ever had a serious relationship?” I ask because we’ve been talking a lot about me lately and I don’t think we’ve covered anything about him.
“Serious? Nah, I don’t go beyond a night—maybe a weekend.”
“Ha, guys like you are made, not born. You remind me of my brothers.”
“That concerns me, in what way?”
“”I’ll never be in a serious relationship, they’re not for me,” they always say,” I answer. “And do you know why? Because something happened that changed your life and scarred your heart.”
“You believe that?”
“Of course.” I nod and go on a tangent about my brothers.
When Jason was twenty-five, he was left at the altar by a bitch who couldn’t even say no when he proposed. She made him organize the wedding and then ran away. Then there’s Jackson’s ex-wife. The bitch used him and stole from him.
Don’t get me started with Alex. He’s had not one but three relationships all of which he swears weren’t important, but they broke his heart. The last one, Charlotte did a number on him. She broke up with him after the car accident where the doctor said—he might not walk again. He’s walking again but needless to say, his career ended that night.
At least Jason and Jackson have found love and their hearts thawed. What about Sterling?
“Fess up,” I say after I finish my rant.
“You hate them,” he concludes.
“They were bitches with my guys,” I respond. “The point is that after what they did, my brothers became playboys but deep down, they’re close to Prince Charming. Something happened to you that made you believe love isn’t worth it. What was it?”
He shakes his head and leans his head back resting it on the chair while admiring the stars. If it wasn’t for the fire and the blanket covering us, I’d be inside reading a book. But he made this so comfortable I want to stay here. Such a shame I can’t enjoy it out here with a a glass of wine.
“Kara,” he says. “She was my best friend while growing up and dating her just happened. I thought we wanted the same things. During senior year of high school, she came to me saying, ‘I’m pregnant.’”
He laughs. “Then, she said she wouldn’t keep it.”
“Why not?”
“She couldn’t have my kid. I was irresponsible, unreliable, and if it wasn’t for my parents’ money, I’d have nothing. That once we graduated, we were over. We wanted different things. I researched what I could do. She couldn’t just give the kid up for adoption without my permission. So, I tried to talk to my parents. They had the resources and money to get custody of the kid. They said that I was too irresponsible to keep a fish alive.”
“Did you kill a fish?”
He rolls his eyes. “I was six.”
“What happened to the baby?”
“It was a false alarm, she wasn’t pregnant but needless to say, we broke up after that and that was it between us.”
“Your parents?”
“Never thought much of me. They died hoping I’d mature and become them.”
I nod, well that explains a lot. Does he love himself? I lean my head on his shoulder. “I trust you with our babies and I’m sure you won’t become your parents.”
Giving him a shy smile, I add, “But we can become mine. They’re awesome.”
We fall into a comfortable silence. It’s just us and the night until he asks, “Who was your first love?”
“Even though I’m a serial monogamist, I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in love.”
“First boyfriend?”
“Dan, I was almost sixteen. It was during the summer. He was cute, and we always did things together. I remember him fondly. His family moved to Seattle after junior year.”
“First loves are different from the love of your life,” he says. “I loved Kara; she wasn’t the love of my life.”
I whistle as I sigh. “Well, then how do you know?”
“When it happens, it’ll catch you off guard. Change your entire life. It’ll be a soul deep connection and you’ll need each other like you need air to breathe. Maybe when you find love the stars shine brighter and everything that used to be dull has a new light. She’ll be your favorite feeling, even when you can’t understand it. The best place you’ve ever been in and the one you want to stay in forever.”
“Sounds like you’re talking from experience,” I say, my heart squeezing, not sure if it’s envy or something else.
Not that I’m jealous of the woman who captivated his heart.
“Still figuring things out,” he mumbles and kisses the top of my head. “We should start buying baby books. I don’t want to suck at being a dad.”
I close my eyes, resting my hands on my belly and for the first time today, I just enjoy the moment and forget about the future. Tomorrow everything will look different.
June
Last night I fell asleep in Sterling’s arms and he brought me to the main bedroom but didn’t stay with me. It felt empty and different from the previous days. Is it wrong to miss him when I’m asleep?
After his definition of falling in love, I think he stole a piece of my heart. A big chunk more likely. I refuse to complicate things between us, and I need to pull away from him. Not sure how or when I’m going to do it.
Sterling suggests we spend the week enjoying the news, the fresh powder, each other, and relaxing. Next week we’ll discuss our future. After breakfast, he suggests we go skiing. I accept, and before driving to the slopes, we stop at my brother’s house to borrow my equipment.
The perks of being close by to Jackson’s place are many. Let’s hope he doesn’t catch me because I don’t have the energy to explain to him why I was at his garage—and spending time with his neighbor.
During our second round going down the mountain, I have a bad feeling. That gut-clenching feeling when you know shit’s about to hit the fan and you’re doomed. It’s hard to concentrate, but I try my best going behind Sterling who isn’t happy about it. As I explained, I’m better at following than leading.
This entire day has been weird. I feel as if someone has been watching us since we arrived. I know when Sterling notices the guys because he speeds up and I follow right behind.
My stomach tightens and my legs wobble, but I don’t let them give up. We’re going to speed up and make it to safety. After that, Sterling better have a good explanation. Unless he has bodyguards because someone wants to kill him.
I swallow thickly.
The fear runs through my blood along with the adrenaline. When we arrive at the bottom, I pull off my helmet and visor and glare at him.
Before I can say a word, there’s a loud bark behind me. “You’re working from home? This isn’t home.”
When I turn around, I realize the guys who followed us were his bodyguards. Great, we have company. What happened to we’ll be alone for the next week?
“I’m at home. This is a free country,” Sterling says upset. “You can’t be just following us everywhere. I have a life—I want it back. She doesn’t deserve to be caged too.”
“We have a protocol,” Beckett says and turns to look at me. “You are the one who is making him break all the rules. You should know better.”
“Oh my gosh, is that Sterling?” someone somewhere all of a sudden screams.
“Yes, it’s him!”
In less than five seconds women and men are screaming nonsense.
“Ahern, sign my boobs!”
“Code four,” Beckett say
s.
Suddenly there is a bunch of women sprouting like daisies in the middle of spring. One of them asks for his babies and the one next to her is crying hysterically. I’ve seen this before when I was doing PR for a boy band, but this guy is not that famous. Is he?
Okay, he’s famous, hot, and who wouldn’t want to have his babies?
One of them says, “I told you he was the guy in the restaurant. I knew these would pay off.” Then she glares at me and mouths, Bitch, you can’t have him.
Whoa, what is happening?
“Kiss Steamboat goodbye,” Beckett says, grinding his teeth.
“Fine, I need you. Please get us out of this one,” Sterling finally speaks. Looking at me, he takes a deep breath and continues, “I don’t want anyone to touch June. Make sure you put a detail on her and no one takes her picture. We’re not leaving Steamboat yet though. We’ll manage … get whoever you need to cover us.”
“Oh, fucking hell.” Beckett starts giving orders around.
The next thing I know we’re in a black SUV. We drive it for a couple of miles until we reach another unmarked, white truck. After four car changes, we’re finally at the house, disoriented.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask upset and ready to puke.
Beck looks at me, then at Sterling and asks, “She doesn’t know. Does she?”
Sterling shakes his head.
“What do I have to know?”
“For a public relations person, you seem a little clueless,” Beckett declares and I’m pretty offended. “Our boy here has a flock of followers everywhere he goes. Some of them believe he lives for them. They’re the kind who stalk houses, boil rabbits, and pretend to be knocked up so they can get a proposal.”
“The dangerous kind,” I conclude and shiver because I’ve dealt with this kind with Alex and some of my other clients.
Everyone thinks stalkers only affect actors. They don’t. Alex had one living in his house when he was out of town, she pretended to be his wife. She spent a couple of years in an institution after her lawyer pleaded insanity.
“Bingo, she is as smart as she looks. Maybe you can explain to this guy why you two need us around at all times because clearly he still thinks he’s a free man to roam around whenever he wants.”
My chest squeezes and I understand why he is so isolated. My heart hurts because he’s the kind of guy that likes to be around people even when he doesn’t look like it. I grab his hand and squeeze it.
“It’s fine,” I say reassuringly. “If we have to go to another secret mountain to ski, we can do it. Unless, you want just to stay in the house and watch movies or draw. We can always keep our equipment on, it’s not like they’ll recognize you.”
He smiles and links our fingers together. “Whatever you want to do,” he offers. “We can go back to the city. It’s safer. I don’t want to put you or the babies in danger.”
“Are you sure you want to stay?” Beck asks.
“How did you find us?”
“You were walking around town freely. There’re several pictures of you and fans wondering if you’re here. Hashtag sterlingwatch is trending. I got the call. If we’re going to do this, I think you should move into the Viking Lane house.”
“Do you want to go home?” Sterling asks.
I shake my head. “These guys will be around if we need to go out, they can join. Now, I understand the apartment downstairs.”
“Sorry for what happened back there. I let myself believe this could be different,” he apologizes, putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me to him. “I’d never let them touch you.”
“I’m okay,” I assure him. Then to change the subject and break the tension I ask, “Do you know when the furniture for Viking Lane will arrive?”
Beckett sighs and looks at Sterling. “I had to speed things up. It arrived earlier today. Even if you don’t want to move there, we increased the security. HIB securities added cameras and a new keypad.”
“So how does it look?” I try to redirect the conversation. “I need to order some Christmas decorations.”
Beckett shows me pictures of the house. The furniture looks great. It’s just like how I imagined it as I picked each piece. I just need to order the bedding for my room.
“Too pink,” Sterling protests.
“It’s my place,” I argue.
“It doesn’t matter, we have to compromise.”
“That’s only the office. My office. The rest of the house is gray, white, and black,” I explain as I show him all the pictures. “The master bedroom is going to be pink because of the bedding, but I’ll take it with me.”
He looks at me suspiciously and says, “Fine, you have good taste. Get neutral bedding, I’m not sleeping on a pink bed.”
You’re not sleeping with me, I don’t say.
“We just need a Christmas tree,” I add, wondering if I should buy an artificial one or a pine.
Scanning the house where we’re at, I find the perfect spot and walk toward it. “Here.”
“What’s happening there?” Sterling’s frown deepens.
“That’s where we’re setting the Christmas tree,” I answer, already thinking about the colors that will fit the house. “What do you have in storage? Any red or gold ornaments? I mean, if you already have a color scheme, I’ll work with it, but shades of red and gold would pop with your decor.”
Sterling looks at me. More like he gives me a nasty glare. “We don’t do Christmas or celebrate any holidays. The only colors I have in this house are in my studios and well, you. Their only purpose is to create art.”
I frown and place my hands on my hips. “I’m a color?”
He grins and winks at me. “A very special one but let’s not digress.”
“What are you saying? I’m not allowed to have a Christmas tree and fill my space with cheer and joy.”
“You can do it for the rental. That’s your place for the next year and you can set Santa’s Workshop in there if you want to.”
“Hmm.”
“You’re judging me.”
“Not at all. Just wondering how we can get the pine here and we’ll need decorations,” I continue and turn to look at Beckett. “You seem like a resourceful man. Can you make this happen for us?”
Beckett smirks. “Red and gold?”
“Add some silver too it if you can find it. And if you see some decorations that’ll go with the ornaments, send me pictures before you buy them. The place looks bare.”
“No,” Sterling protests.
“I’ll have the team work on it. We’ll help you trim once we have what you need, Miss Spearman.”
“Thank you, Beck.”
“Juniper, I swear,” Sterling utters, his face is red, and it’s kind of funny to see him flustered.
“Yeah, you can swear. I’ve heard you for the past week. Also, I know you can use some holiday cheer and I’m here to share it with you.”
“Over my dead body.” He sounds stern.
“Beck might be able to do that too if you insist,” I say. “He seems to be trained to take down bad guys and I bet he knows how to hide your body and make your disappearance look like a holiday miracle.”
He doesn’t say a word, but I see there’s a smile playing on his lips.
June
“We’re only staying here for a few days,” Sterling says after we’re done decorating the house.
It took us three days to make it look like a home. Or as Sterling likes to call it Santa’s Workshop. Beck had to send a couple of guys to Denver to pick up the stuff I had ordered online. There wasn’t much around town to decorate.
Sterling protested, but he helped us—against his will, he repeated that several times. I don’t believe him. The man had an opinion on where things should go and would look appealing because the reds weren’t homogenous. His excuse was my continuous puking. Morning sickness has caught up to me and it’s not pretty.
Earlier today, I said we needed a painting that matches
the current décor, like a cabin in the middle of the snowed mountains. He pulled out an easel and paints from his studio and began to work on it.
I’m fascinated by him. It’s like watching Bob Ross’s show, except this guy is taller, hot, and he’s not telling me to paint happy trees everywhere.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“When did I start painting? Around the age of one, Mom gave me crayons so I’d shut up and stay occupied while she was busy raising her other children.”
“You sound bitter about your siblings.”
He shrugs. “I’m not. Honest to goodness, I’m glad she fostered them, and they had a place where they could live safely. In fact, I’m still in touch with a few of them.”
“I can hear a but in between the lines.”
“According to Mom I was lucky to have been born an Ahern. I had everything. Everything except my parents’ attention. For some reason, they could manage caring for five or six foster kids at a time but when Sterling needed anything, they sent me with the nanny.”
Sterling is right, I’m glad they could care for those children but how about their son? “That’s awful.”
He shrugs. “If I acted like my foster siblings to get attention, they didn’t care. At some point it was just the craft room, my crayons, and me. They were my outlet. Sports were okay, but I always had to finish the day drawing or doing something with my hands.”
“How about the fans?”
“I blame social media,” he states. “At the beginning, it was a tool to sell and show what I could do but suddenly it got out of hand. My followers believe they know me and own me. It’s been bad. So bad that when my mother died, I couldn’t attend her funeral.”
Walking to where he stands, I grab his palette and the brush and set them on the table next to the easel. I reach up to give him a hug. I try for it to be friendly. But when my body meets his, the spark between us lights up. His arms go around me, and my heartbeat spikes. In an instant, arousal fills the space between every thump.
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