Make You Mine (Nixon Brooks Book 1)

by Tess Keeler

  How so?

  ;*

  Hahah. I guess so. Does he hate you because of me?

  I took a deep breath and opted to call her instead of text. That would be easier if she was still driving. And safer.

  I hit the phone icon below her name and felt the onset of nerves rattling my stomach and chest as the phone rang.

  After three rings, her voice greeting me after what felt like an eternity. “Hey, you.” It was amazing what her voice did to me. I laughed quietly at myself before saying anything.

  “Hey, I figured this would be easier,” I began, running my fingers through my hair as I looked down at my feet. “Are you still driving?” I asked, mainly because I was curious if she was coming here or not. It wasn’t that far of a drive, and I was hopeful. I’d deal with the wrath of Blake a million times to see her again.

  “I was actually about to text you and see where you were. I’m at the Bean.”

  I took a deep breath, my heart starting to race again. How did she have this effect on me already? “I’m at the Allstate Arena. I think it’s technically in Rosemont. Do you know where that is?”

  After I gave her the address, she was driving again. I stayed on the phone but made sure I looked okay to see her. I switched shirts twice while we chatted, and I hoped she couldn’t hear too much of my movements as I got ready. I wanted to have as much time as possible with her— we’d be going opposite directions in the morning.

  It felt like forever before she told me she was here, and I made sure to get her access to the restricted parking near the buses. I wasn’t about to let her walk any further than necessary, especially since she was here specifically to see me.

  It was the first time I had seen her van, and I admit, I was impressed. It was like a mini-RV, and it was definitely all Harper. It was a creamy white at the top and a pale yellow at the bottom. I was rubbing my hands together nervously once we hung up, only doing so because she was parking. This girl had me a mess. Every. Single. Time.

  She climbed out from the driver’s seat, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. She looked even more beautiful than the night before, her face more natural and showing off that effortless beauty that radiated from her. My skin felt hot, and I knew I was blotchy once our eyes met. Her legs extended out from short, cut off jean shorts, and the dark blue sleeveless shirt she wore was one of my past tour editions. The white sneakers on her feet brought the entire outfit together. Her long hair was up and off her shoulders, showing off the smooth skin of her neck.

  But my favorite thing was the smile she was wearing.

  Her voice interrupted my thoughts. “Like what you see?”

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pulled myself together. “Yes,” I managed, clearing my throat in an attempt to not seem pathetic to her. “Is that okay?”

  Her laugh was beautiful. “Of course it is.” She was so close to me now, and I could smell the softness of her vanilla body spray in this proximity. I took in a deep breath. “You’re sweet,” she added, taking the pass I silently extended to her.

  “Or honest,” I countered, offering her a big smile. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I’m yours for the day,” she replied, clipping the pass to the bottom of her shirt.

  “Don’t say that too loud. Your brother will kill me,” I replied, immediately regretting saying it. “He wasn’t too happy about us running off together last night.”

  She rolled her eyes, waving her hand as she spoke, “He’s still upset about the first celebrity. He’ll get over it.”

  “Wait.” Her comment had me frozen, even though there were fans beginning to congregate at the fence separating them from us. “What do you mean?”

  Our eyes noticed the people gathering and a few yelled my name, so we drifted behind a trailer to have more privacy. My hand rested on the small of her back, leading her to a good spot. They would definitely not see us now.

  “I don’t come around my brother because I met someone famous at one of Blake’s events. The dickhead used me. Blake hasn’t recovered since.” Her explanation came as soon as we were out of sight from my fans.

  I tapped my foot, feeling a ping of jealousy for a moment. “I guess that makes more sense. May I ask who it was?” Did I really want to know? It was too late now.

  The hesitation was evident, but the reason behind her reluctance is what I was unsure of. Did she not trust me or did she not want to cause any hitches in the getting to know each other process? “Douglas Sanders,” she finally answered, and I know my face pulled downward. Douglas Sanders was a jerk. Arrogant. Opinionated. Complete opposite of me. “It was a long time ago. I was 16.”

  “You weren’t even legal?” I felt my expression stretch, my eyes wide and angry. “Did he take…?” I trailed off. Again, did I want to know? “Actually, you obviously don’t have to divulge that information. It doesn’t matter either way. I’m just upset that he did that to you.” That he’s had you.

  She pursed her lips, lowering her eyebrows in my direction. Her face was softening as she spoke, “Thank you.” She softly grabbing my fingers, leading me to sit on a nearby ledge. “Tell me about this one girl.”

  I knew she was circling back to our text, and I blew a breath out as we sat down together. “Have you heard anything about my love life?” I asked cautiously, watching her face process my question.

  “I’ve heard a few things. Mostly pregnancy rumors. I never saw the longtime girlfriend, but I remember the cheating stories.” I cringed at the pregnancy comment, even though I knew it was coming.

  Closing my eyes, I licked my lips before answering her. “The pregnancy scare was my first time. I lost my virginity to a fan at 17.” I huffed, feeling the memories flooding back. “When I reached out to her, she admitted to me that she wasn’t and she just wanted more of my attention. I feel bad for her, because I’m sure I was terrible, so I’m not even sure why she would want to revisit that awkwardness. Maybe that’s why she told people that she was pregnant in the first place?”

  “I’m sure you weren’t that bad,” she said, trying to be reassuring of my quality. I offered her a smile. “How many people have you slept with since?”

  I pulled my lips together, almost wary to admit it to her. “One. Two in total. If we’re counting fooling around, too, I would say I’m closer to twelve.” My hands rested on the concrete under us. “How many people have you been with? You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

  “Wow, only two?” I could see the surprise in her expression. My number was fairly low for the opportunities I’ve had. “I’ve slept with 10 or 11. Fooled around with probably 25.”

  I nodded, feeling a strange sense of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. Ignoring it, I responded to her about my number, “Yeah, two. Not that there is anything wrong with casual sex. I’m just protective of that kind of vulnerability. I think even if I wasn’t in the spotlight, I would be. Plus, you’ve heard things that were true and things that were not. I don’t have to do anything to get in the headlines, but imagine if I was to actually get caught?”

  “That’s admirable. You could be out there using your status to make your number higher, and you don’t.”

  I smiled at her, our eyes connecting for what seemed like forever. I took a second to admire the curve of her full lips and the sparkle in her light eyes. My heart did a flip in my chest.

  I parted my lips to thank her for the compliment but was interrupted by Mason’s voice yelling for me.

  “Nixon, where the bloody hell are you?”

  Offering her an apologetic smile, I jumped down to stand and offered her my hand in the process. She got onto her feet with my help, and there was so much of me that didn’t want to let her hand go. My fingers felt as though they were tingling as we found Mason looking around the side of the bus for us.

  “Hey, Mason,” I got his attention, and he shook his head when he realized who was walking with me.

  He nodded at her, offering her one of his
charming smiles. “‘Ello, Harper.” He directed his eyes to me now. “Blake’s going to kill you, mate.”

  Harper interjected, making me smile like an idiot in the process, “He’ll have to go through me first.”

  1

  Make You Mine

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Harper

  After sitting up in a bed I didn’t remember falling asleep on, I rubbed the sleep away from my eyes. The light coming in from the window to my right was too bright to focus on, forcing me to look around the room. That’s when I noticed Nixon sleeping on a sleeper couch in the living area of his hotel suite.

  The last thing I remembered was listening to Mason and Nixon bicker over how “thirsty” Nixon’s fans were. Nixon was defending them, but Mason argued that they were so desperate to be close to the musician, that they settled for his photographer. I had learned a lot about Mason last night—he was especially promiscuous.

  I would have fallen asleep on the floor, next to Nixon, if that were the time in question. Mason had preoccupied the bed for most of the night. How did I get into the bed? And why did Nixon not at least try to sleep next to me? Maybe I was reading him and this all wrong.

  I stood up and stretched before sneaking away to his bathroom. I scrubbed my face with a hot washcloth and rubbed toothpaste over my teeth and tongue. After swishing some mouthwash around, I relieved myself, washed my hands, and unlocked the door. It came open much easier than before. I looked up, and Nixon’s sleepy gaze met mine. He smiled at me, and I felt my insides twist a little. Why couldn’t I have woken up to that instead?

  “How’d you sleep?” he asked, his voice breathy and hot. Well, hotter.

  “Great,” I said, feeling more refreshed than I usually would. “How about you?”

  “Better than the night before. Hands down.”

  I leaned against the door frame, looking up all six feet of him. He was wearing solid black pajama pants and no shirt. I tried not to let my gaze linger too long on his sculpted hips, abdomen, and chest. Oh, man. I was feeling warm all of a sudden. I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and shook it out, wetting my lips. “You could have slept with me, you know.”

  “Next time I will, now that I have consent.” The smile he flashed me was big and bright. “I’m a gentleman.”

  I touched his wrist and traced my way to his elbow as I walked around him. Before I disappeared, I leaned into his shoulder and kissed it gently. “You should,” I whispered as seductively as I could manage. I wanted him to know that I was interested, if our constant contact over the last three days wasn’t evidence enough.

  I heard the shaky exhale he released before moving into the bathroom, leaving a breathy word in the air behind him: “Noted.”

  My phone was charging in the kitchenette, and I smiled to myself as I checked it. He really was a gentleman. Who thought to charge someone’s phone? I had some reminders to do a post for the day and a video for the week. I had already uploaded pictures of my favorite places in downtown Chicago to my phone. There were a few of his show from the side stage as well. I had pushed Blake’s buttons all night, and I didn’t even have to try. Just my presence alone was killing him.

  I was prepared to work before I moved on to my next destination. It was only eight in the morning, so I had time. I just needed to get my computer from my van.

  Nixon’s footsteps echoed in the quiet, and then I heard the door shut again. When he reappeared, he was dressed for a workout.

  “Need me to get out of here?” I asked, not wanting to overstay my invitation.

  “No, please stay.” He motioned to the door, “I’m going to hit the gym, but I’ll be back soon.”

  “Can I have a key to get back in? I need to go get my computer for work,” I spoke quietly, feeling out of place requesting such a thing. The warmth had worn off some, and I was feeling more vulnerable than I ever had. It had never felt this easy around another human being, and I couldn’t tell if it was friendship or a budding relationship.

  He pulled his key from his short’s pocket and held it out to me. “Can I assume you’ll be here when I get back?” I noticed a portion of his cheeks turning red as he paused, his lips turning up slightly, “You know, to let me back in.”

  I reached for it, a wave of confidence washing over me in response to his reaction. “You’re not going to be able to get rid of me.” I gave him my biggest smile before he returned it. He always looked happy, and it was something I enjoyed about him.

  When he was gone, I gave him a few minutes to get down to the gym before I left. There were two reasons for this tactic: I didn’t want to get caught with him too much and end up all over tabloids and I didn’t want to seem too clingy. I really did like him, though.

  There were crowds of people outside of the hotel, waiting for him. My eyes bulged out of my head as I tried to make it by unscathed. They saw my shirt.

  “Is he in there?”

  “Have you seen him?”

  I shook my head and nearly jogged to my van. I grabbed my computer bag, camera, and a change of clothing before trying to find a different entrance into the building. After an unsuccessful attempt, I faced the eager fans once again and raced up to his room. No one followed me right? I was still nervous when I turned on Gilmore Girls for background noise and opened up my laptop.

  I got lost in updating my following about my whereabouts, leaving Nixon’s name completely out of it. I spoke of going home and star gazing in the city. It felt good to talk about the feelings I had for Nixon, about how we shared the rooftop and deep conversation. Nixon would never read it, so I felt free to let it all out.

  I put pictures of the bean and the city buildings up in black and white, followed by the kind words of my favorite city in the summer. It was the first time I had been in the windy city without requiring a jacket or sweater, so it gave me something new to talk about with them about the same old place.

  As I proofread my brain dump, I heard a knock at the door.

  “Harper?”

  I closed my laptop a little, so he wouldn’t see what I had said about him. I was a girl with a crush.

  He was barely sweating, but extremely flushed. I pursed my lips as I opened the door wide enough to let him in, trying to keep my mouth shut. He knew he was attractive—I didn’t need to tell him.

  Too busy drooling, I didn’t realize he had two coffee cups in hand. “For you,” he said, handing me one cup.

  I gave him a small smile as he walked by me, thanking him in the process.

  “Earl Grey, right?” he asked, and I stared at him with my head cocked slightly to the side.

  “How could you possibly know that?” I asked, still staring at him as he drank on his own beverage.

  “Blake warned me of your hatred for coffee,” he laughed. “He must have known, since I had two.”

  “He’s a little cooperative, at least,” I teased before drinking on my too hot beverage. It burned, but it was worth it. “I love all teas, for future reference.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair a little. I caught a glimpse of his bicep, bigger with his recent workout. Arms were a weakness of mine. His might kill me. “Mason is a tea connoisseur, so he’s teaching me about the best teas. I’m a black coffee kind of guy, but I’m working on my palette for tea.”

  “Maybe we can both work you up to it.”

  “Deal,” he said with a laugh, his eyes shining in my direction.

  We both showered. Separately to my disappointment. I’m a girl with needs, okay?

  I posted my blog post and charged my computer up as we prepared for his bus call. I had been with him for four days in a row, and I still wasn’t ready to leave him. I had so much I wanted to say and ask. Even now.

  The tour buses were tucked away in the most secure section of the hotel parking lot. Hotel security had taken to making sure Nixon didn’t get trampled as he tried to exit. As I stood outside of his bus, out of view from the sea of fans wishing Nixon would just take a few more pictures with them,
Mason gave me a hug goodbye. I caught a whiff of the cigarette he had just put out in the mess of his curls my face buried into. It was becoming on him.

  Blake had already given me a tight, reserved hug, threatening me not to risk his career for some ass. I hit him on the arm and hissed out a goodbye to him too. I couldn’t tell if he was playing, but it stung, and the embrace of a new friend helped ease it some.

  Nixon was next. He was nervously stuffing his hands in his pockets as we stared into each other’s eyes. Nothing had happened, but it felt like something had. Emotionally. I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my head against his chest. His large hand covered the small of my back, a spot he tended to gravitate toward, if he did touch me. That didn’t happen often.

  He was so much taller than I was. I could hear his heartbeat, and it almost sounded like it was speeding up with each passing second. Did he feel the heat I experienced where our bodies connected?

  Reluctantly I pulled away, my fingers lingering on his hips. I pushed up on my toes and kissed his jaw softly. It was the closest spot I could reach. I kept it friendly.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I promised, convincing myself more than him.

  “Promise?” His lips slowly curled into a small smile, his eyes dancing over my face. He reached up and traced my chin with his thumb, dragging it slowly. “Text me when you stop so I know you’re okay, please?”

  “Promise,” I said, referring to both. “Same to you.”

  We shared a longing glance before I watched him climb onto the bus. I was standing there, almost like a fool, as it finally pulled off. The sea of fans parted to release both his and his crew’s bus, and I ended up taking every stare directed at me. Oops.

  It was fifteen hours from Chicago to Boston, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cram it in one trip or enjoy the ride. I was nearly five hours in, approaching Cleveland. My life was at my disposal, so I usually chose to relish the stretch of land. I wasn’t focusing on the trees or the city buildings today. I’m also sure I missed every cow along the way. Sighing, I thought about how full Nixon’s lips were and how he had the most perfect hazel eyes.