by Anna Zaires, Pepper Winters, Skye Warren, Lynda Chance, Pam Godwin, Amber Lin
“I’m old news. They stopped paying attention.”
“It would have been nice if I’d known that before I flew to Vegas.”
Oh shit. “No. You didn’t.”
But of course she had. Chloe was her sister. She’d known Hailey was in an emotional crisis, and she’d come to be with her. It was sweet but also…terrifying. “Where are you? At a hotel?”
“Nah, they wouldn’t let us in. Didn’t even tell us you’d checked out or what.”
Suspicion rose up, along with a healthy fear of her baby sis alone in a big, mean city. “Who’s we?”
“Me and Tim.”
Tim from church. Trustworthy Tim who she could count on to look after Chloe. Oh…oh.
“Is he…? Oh God, he is, isn’t he?”
“The father of the baby?” Chloe asked. “Pretty much, yes.”
“I can’t believe you let me think it was some roadie from the tour.”
“So you could march up to him and demand he step up before I’d even had a chance to tell him? No thanks.”
“I wouldn’t have… Okay, that’s exactly what I did. Just to the wrong guy.”
“Because you love me, Sis. I get that. But you have to let me work this out. I’m going to be a mother. And more than that…”
“What do you mean, more?” Hailey’s stricken brain conjured images of twins and triplets.
“Oh, Sis. Don’t be mad.” Chloe sounded on the verge of tears.
That image morphed into worse things: Chloe hurt, Chloe scared. The baby. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Chloe sniffed. “Except that you weren’t there. That’s the only bad part. Everything else is good, Hailey. So good. I’m married.”
Her mind went blank. “Married…to who?”
“Tim,” she said, as if it were obvious. And maybe it should have been. But Hailey still hadn’t quite wrapped her brain around the idea of Tim—trustworthy Tim—knocking up her little sister. That he would marry her after doing so should have been a foregone conclusion, but all she could think was what if.
What if Chloe had made a mistake? What if they couldn’t trust Tim after all? What if something went wrong and her sister ended up hurt or afraid or alone?
Her chest panged, the same way it had when Chloe had first told her about being pregnant. Or maybe a little less painful. Maybe she was getting used to the idea of her sister as a grown woman. An adult. Someone who didn’t need a big sister to hover over her anymore.
“I’m so happy for you,” she managed to say despite the cracking-open sensation in her ribs.
“Oh, thank God,” Chloe gushed. “I wanted you to be there, but we were there at your hotel. Tim was demanding they tell us where you were, and they kicked us out. And the chapel was right there, right outside. It was a sign.”
Hailey managed a watery smile. She made it through the rest of the conversation like the supportive big sister she had finally figured out how to be. The one who believed in her sister’s judgment and would stand by her no matter what. Which left Hailey exactly where?
Alone in a small apartment, that was where.
All alone.
* * *
The light was on in Pastor John’s office when Hailey got to the church. Her stomach clenched in anticipation of what he’d say. She couldn’t really imagine him browsing RedTube for sex-tape videos, but someone would have showed him. The thought of him disappointed in her—or worse, scornful—made her eyes sting with unshed tears.
But in a way, she was glad to see him. Even though she’d come during off hours, like a thief, sneaking around to steal her own belongings so she wouldn’t have to see anyone, she was glad she’d have to face him. He deserved that much from her. He’d been so kind to both her and Chloe, and this was how she’d repaid him.
Public humiliation. The name of the church had even appeared in some of the articles.
Let’s get this over with.
He always left the door open, with a welcoming policy to match. His head was bent, reading a book split open on his desk. Hailey rapped on the door frame to get his attention. When he looked up his expression morphed into one of…concern.
“Hailey. Come in. How are you?”
He didn’t seem angry at her. Still, she knew he had to be. She was angry at herself. Her steps into the office were soft, careful, as if walking through a land mine. Sitting in the worn, comfy chair threw her into the past, when she’d sat down for a job interview—nervous and expecting the worst.
How was she? She was…torn. “I’m so sorry, Pastor John. Truly. I never thought that would happen; otherwise I wouldn’t have—” She clamped her lips together, having no idea how to finish the sentence. Wouldn’t have signed the contract. Wouldn’t have had a threesome in an elevator.
And she wasn’t even sure it was true. She might have done it anyway, because God…God.
She wanted Lock.
The pastor smiled slightly. “You’ve had a lot of support at this church since it happened. Several parents have spoken to me on your behalf.”
A little shot of relief poured through her. At least someone had wanted her here. “Really? But I’m sure there were more parents who wanted me fired.”
“Oh yes. Fired and brimstone,” he joked, and she managed not to snort. Pastor John was always making puns. It reassured her that he could make them now, when it looked like the world had ended. As if things weren’t as bad as they’d seemed on that long trip home.
He turned serious. “The parents aren’t the only person. Tim stepped up right in the middle of potluck. Said he’d quit if you were fired.”
Oh no. Her chest constricted. “You didn’t do it, right? You told him not to?”
“I was going to speak to him, but he…well, to be honest, he disappeared.” He gave a wry smile. “I’ve been fielding a lot of phone calls since then, but I have every intention of speaking with him. In fact, the board had just approved the job offer for him to become a pastor here.”
Well, that settled it. She knew what she had to do. “In that case you definitely can’t fire me. I quit.”
His bushy eyebrows rose. “To make sure he keeps his job?”
“That’s more important,” she said.
Because he has a baby on the way. Because he’s married to my sister.
She wasn’t sure he had told Pastor John, though, so she didn’t say anything. Besides, that wasn’t the only reason why. Being a pastor was his dream. She hadn’t even been that close of a friend to Tim, but she still knew that. And he was great at it. He was destined for the job.
While she…was destined to pine after the guy she’d left in a musky motel room outside of Vegas.
He looked solemn. “I know how hard you’ve worked, both here and with your sister. You deserve to have a long weekend off and not to suffer any consequences from that. But the preschool…”
“Is too important to risk,” she said firmly. “Some of those families need this child care for their jobs, especially as affordable as it is. And even at the low cost, the school is a profit center for the church. Don’t worry about me. Seriously.”
“I do worry about you,” he said slowly. “And not just because of this. I worry about whether you’re comfortable here. It’s hard to tell with you. You don’t complain much.”
He said it like it was a bad thing. She recoiled, feeling that familiar sting of not belonging.
“I tried my best,” she said softly.
“Oh no, you were great with the children. We won’t be able to find someone as good as you. That’s a given. I meant you never seemed totally happy here. Not like Chloe.”
She narrowed her eyes. Had he somehow gotten the sisters mixed up? Chloe was the wild, flighty one. Hailey was the staid, responsible one. “What are you talking about?”
“Chloe has always been enthusiastic about the church. She’s full of enthusiasm and always suggests ways to improve things.” He shook his head ruefully. “Sometimes we struggle to keep up with
her, but she’s exactly what this church needs. And I think this church has something she needs too.”
She thought back, trying to remember whether it had been Chloe or herself who had gotten involved in the church. Hailey had gotten the job here, but it was Chloe who joined the youth group. Chloe who woke up every Sunday morning and banged around in the kitchen until Hailey dragged herself out of bed.
Chloe would make a wonderful pastor’s wife. Unconventional, yes. But forthright and passionate and so damn caring. She loved this place.
Pastor John stood. “If you’d like to continue on with the church, I’m sure we can find a position for you in the administrative side.”
She rose and helped him to the door. His arthritis acted up the closer they got to winter. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll use this time to figure out what I want to do.”
He squeezed her hand before pushing through the door. “You’ll come back and see us, won’t you?”
She grinned, thinking she was about to marry into the family, so to speak. “I’m sure I will.”
Then he was gone, leaving her alone in the church, standing in the open-air foyer, usually sunbright, but now shadowed and silent. His car backed out, swinging headlights through the stained glass windows before pulling into the street. Hailey would pack up her few belongings and maybe the artwork her kids had made for her. Then she would leave this place and try to figure out what to do next.
Chapter Twenty-One
The waiting was the worst. His whole body was wound up wanting to do something, but he couldn’t do anything without a plan. When Krist’s text message confirming that it was done finally popped up, he nearly jolted out of his skin. The relief spread through him like pins and needles, like a limb waking up after a long sleep. He hadn’t destroyed their friendship. He hadn’t broken up the band.
He read the “Breaking News” blog post, with accompanying cell phone pics, three times before it fully sank in. Madeline Fox had pulled some publicity stunt in DC. Chum in the shark tank. The media would swarm.
The grainy security footage of some no-name girl from nowhere would be all but forgotten.
Nobody had chased him down at McCarran. No cameras flashed at Midway. His story was already dropped. What was one more rock-star indiscretion compared to a teen idol spiraling out of control? Her handlers were probably going bat shit. He could sympathize. His agent, the label rep, his bandmates, they’d all taken their turn squawking in his ear. He didn’t care. He only cared that Krist had come through for him. It was a gift—a parting gift from the brother he’d never had. A second chance.
Gotta find Hailey.
It wasn’t hard. One Internet search, one flight, one very angry video conference with his lawyer and the manager of the hotel, and one rental car. He white-knuckled the steering wheel as he gunned it down I-90. There were only a few hours left before he needed to head back to Las Vegas, ready to perform. He didn’t want to do it without Hailey sitting in the wings, preferably half-naked and with eyes only for him.
A slimy TMZ clone site had published the name of her employer under the headline Sunday School Teacher or Sex Worker? At least it wasn’t headline news. His heart still ached. She wasn’t a sex worker, and she was so much more than some absurd gossip feature about a Sunday school teacher he’d fucked on tour. She was his.
He let GPS guide him to the church listed in the article. It was a place to start. Someone there would know her and maybe even tell him where to find her. He tugged at the cuff of his button-down shirt. Probably not. Only the hardest of hard-core fans would recognize him dressed like this—fully covered and with a ball cap tugged low over his brow—but he was still a stranger. She’d just been splashed all over the news, and here was some random guy looking for her. Shedding the rock-and-roll trappings was surprisingly easy. He felt lighter, and not just because leather and chains weighed a ton. He would ask someone nicely. He’d even say please. He would find her.
He’d left Lock in the bottom of his suitcase. Keaton Shaw was driving now.
The parking lot was empty but for an ancient dented Toyota. Hailey’s car. He remembered her describing it to the concierge he’d had fetch her bag that first night. A rusted-out beacon of hope.
He didn’t need a sign, but it didn’t hurt. He wondered what she was doing in there. Confessing her sins? Wishing she’d never met him? Praying he’d come after her? He crossed his fingers it was the last one and headed for the ornate doors.
Locked. Of course. He thumped his fist against the carved wood.
The door cracked open, and there she was. His little church mouse, tucked into jeans and a cashmere sweater that hugged her breasts. Her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. No more fishnets or glitter. No bed head. So beautiful stripped of her costume, even with her face all puffy from tears.
Her eyes widened in recognition. “What are you doing here?”
He tugged the brim of his cap. “Same as you.”
“Collecting your things when you know no one will be around to see you?”
“Something like that.” He touched her cheek, and she tilted into his palm just for a second before she recovered herself and pulled away. That hurt; he wanted her to lean into him. He wanted to hold her, to ease the worry knitting her brow. How could he do those things if she pulled away?
“I’ve never been fired before. I don’t know how to be fired. They won’t even let me say good-bye to the kids. What do I do when I run into them in the grocery store or the mall? Do I pretend I don’t know them? I just—I can’t…”
“Oh, baby. Let’s get off these steps.”
She led him through the vestibule into the church proper. Dark and cold and full of dust. Couldn’t they afford heat? The urge to hold her close tipped over the edge of want and into need. It overwhelmed him.
“I missed you. I don’t like missing you.” He skimmed down her arms—his calluses snagging the soft cashmere—and pinned her hands to the top of a pew. Pressed his chest to her back. So warm. He’d write them a song full of warm forbidden places. He’d write it now, on her skin, with his mouth. He kissed the back of her neck.
“Not here,” she whispered in protest, but her body relaxed at his touch.
“Why not? We’re alone. They can’t fire you twice.”
“I have to live in this community. It’s still my home.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He nudged her legs apart with his knee, and she didn’t resist.
“Are you going to whisk me away like some perverted fairy-tale prince? I think I read that story. It didn’t end well.”
“I can.” He let her go, let the weight of their desire keep her still, and slipped his hand between her thighs. If she were wearing a skirt, he’d have his fingers inside her already. She should only wear skirts. He cursed the denim keeping him from his goal and cupped her, pressed against the seam of her jeans in time with the steady pulse beating between his own legs. “And it’ll end so well you’ll beg me to tell it again and again.”
“What happens when you get bored with me?”
“I already told you, Hailey. You are not boring.” He pawed at her fly until the button popped. Until he could tease the skin below her navel, right at the edge of her panties. “Tell me you believe me.”
“I…” She arched back when he worked his way beneath the waistband. He didn’t plunge inside yet, just held her, letting the warmth heat his palm.
“Try harder, baby. Think of all the ways you’re not boring. The way you take risks. The way you know exactly what a person needs. The sexy way you move when I touch you right here.” He split her folds, barely brushing the bud of her clit.
“Unh, I believe you.”
“Good girl.”
“But—”
He stroked her, jeans bunching at his knuckles, zipper scratching the back of his hand. “No buts. You do everything with your whole heart, Hailey. Don’t stop now. We’ll make a new contract.”
“How long will this one la
st?” She gasped, finally open for him. Wet and welcome. Home.
“Forever.”
* * *
“Forever?” Her voice broke on the word. Did he hear the fear in it? Did he hear the longing? “We couldn’t even last three whole days, Lock.”
“Keaton,” he said quietly. “Call me Keaton.”
A hysterical laugh. “Is that your real name? I don’t even know. And your hand is…is…”
“Stroking your sweet cunt. I can feel you clenching deep in there. Makes my dick so fucking hard. It hurts, baby.”
“Good,” she moaned. Let him suffer—because God, it had hurt so much to leave him. She wanted him to feel it too.
She forced herself to focus. Even with his fingers slick and sliding. Even with her thighs vibrating, threatening to give out. She turned, her eyes searching his. “I don’t know anything about you. You’re the man behind the curtain. And you don’t even have any special powers, do you? It’s all a trick.”
“I didn’t need special powers to send you home, sweetheart. You did that yourself.”
Her heart clenched. And look where that had gotten her. Alone. Afraid. It felt like a desert—as hot and barren as one—and he was just a mirage. So why did he feel so damn real? “Why are you here?”
“For this.” With a sudden twist of his body, he shoved her against the wall, between two smooth wooden pillars. He rocked against her, blocking her from sight, letting her feel his erection, wholly inappropriate in the vestibule of the church. Just like the fingers running through her wetness, messing her all up—a sweet communion.
“You ever come here?” he asked.
She didn’t register his meaning at first—not until he pinched her clit. “No,” she gasped.
“Not even once? No making out in the confessional?”
God, he wouldn’t let up. Circling and circling until her hips were moving in tandem. “No, we’re not…not Catholic. Don’t confess.”
“That’s a shame, sweetheart. I’d love to hear those wicked thoughts of yours.”
She shook her head—hard. “I’ve always been good. Always tried to be good.”