by Cari Quinn
She didn’t reply.
Nick braced his chin on Axl’s head and lifted his brows at Lila’s studious focus on anything but him. He was about to try again when she muttered something about getting another bottle and fled into the kitchen.
“Women,” Nick said to Axl, tipping the bottle back when it slipped out of Axl’s chubby fingers. “Stick to rock and roll, kid. It’s much more predictable.”
By the time Lila returned—without a bottle, by the way—Nick had kicked back on the couch to watch the cartoon train deal with the boys. Axl was happily slurping on his bottle and Dylan had rolled onto his belly in front of the TV. The only thing that took the youngest Duffy’s attention away from the screen was Spot slinking out long enough to swish her tail at him before disappearing again.
Yet another unfathomable woman. He was surrounded by them.
“You good?” he asked Lila as she took the armchair and started tapping furiously on her iPad.
“Yes, fine.” Her voice sounded distant. “Just taking care of a few things for work.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“I’m supposed to go to London in January with Donovan.”
Nick frowned. His first question was for how long, but he didn’t want to prod. She would tell him in her own time. Just as she’d told him about meeting with Donovan earlier in the week. She’d shocked the hell out of him by saying she’d put down her spiky heel and informed her boss that she wasn’t backing away from a relationship with Nick.
And Donovan had agreed. Insane.
Of course, the terms weren’t the best. She had to work more closely with some asshat junior rep Donovan had known back in his London days, so that the artists could feel comfortable there was no favoritism going on once Oblivion went back into the studio. Nick still didn’t get that part. What did Donovan think she’d do for them now? Slip them chocolate-covered strawberries between takes or something?
Whatever. Nick was just happy they didn’t have to hide their relationship quite as much anymore. Of course he was still supposed to be freewheeling and banging every groupie who wandered past his amp, which was all well and good until he figured out how to get that ring on Lila’s finger. But one thing at a time.
Right now, he was going to be all chill and supportive of her career and not stifling in the slightest. “That’s great. Hope you have a good time.” When Lila cut him a sharp look, he smiled. “Wonder if they still have those double-decker buses?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Me either. Huh. I wonder if it’s time for us to do a European tour. See the world, expand our reach.” He snorted. “Hell, if we even have any fuckin’ reach left.”
At Lila’s huff of breath, he winced and kissed Axl’s head. “Sorry, kid. Frigging.”
“It’s a bit early to think about overseas tours or any tours at all until we see what material Oblivion brings into the studio.”
And there you go, exhibit A. Lila didn’t give him a yard when she could give him an inch. He could be giving her the best oral sex of her life and in between screams, she’d say no to half of the ideas he came up with.
Seventy-five percent unless he used tongue and fingers.
“I know that. I’m just saying. I’m assuming I’m supposed to be thinking positively or some shit about this, right?”
She tilted her head. “You’re worried.”
“I have to go back and try to make music with these people, and I haven’t talked to half of them in months.” He focused on the tiny port wine birthmark on the back of Axl’s neck so he didn’t have to meet Lila’s gaze. “What if we crash and burn again?”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that. If I don’t know it, there’s no way you can.”
“Simon’s legally obligated to be there. Even if he tries to walk, he can’t. He knows I’ve got his balls to the wall.”
Nick covered Axl’s ears and nodded in the direction of the blissed-out Dylan. Somehow he’d wrangled the persnickety cat to sit near his left red Ked and he was in heaven. “Hello, little ears.”
Lila frowned. “They both have balls. Surely they can hear about them.”
Nick nodded. “Exactly why I’ve decided we can have one male child. No new owner’s manual required. Not like with a chick, where I’d have to—”
“What did you just say?”
He swallowed, hard. Oh shit. There was being prepared for all possibilities and then there was Freudian slipping your way right into them. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
“Sure about that?” She set aside her iPad and crossed her legs, immediately drawing his gaze to their long length as they slid against one another.
Dirty trick. So dirty.
Nick adjusted his hold on Axl’s wiggling legs and directed his attention to the TV just in time to see Dylan attempt to forcibly drag the protesting cat onto his lap. Lila saw it too and rushed forward to save Spot, who gave her a paw to the face for her trouble.
“Dylan, leave the kitty be. She doesn’t want to be picked up right now.”
The disappointed face Dylan made was priceless. Then he gave a heavy sigh and returned to watching the TV.
She set the annoyed cat on the couch beside Nick and rubbed her cheek. Spot stayed where her mistress had put her for approximately five seconds before streaking off.
Lila shook her head and removed her hand, revealing the thin, shallow scratch curved along her cheek. “This will look great when we go back home.” She sighed.
“Cover it with makeup. A lot of makeup. Don’t want your parents thinking I rough you up or something.” Especially not when he was going to ask their permission to propose.
Belatedly, it had occurred to him that he should. That was suitably homespun and old-fashioned. Perhaps it would even help convince her parents that Nick was homespun and old-fashioned and therefore marriage-appropriate for their only child.
Hey, he’d take whatever help he could get.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because I’m sure they think you’re all about scratching.”
“You never know.” He pulled Axl’s miniature shoe back on when the kid bumped his foot against Nick’s leg. “Are you sure they’re cool with us visiting for two weeks?”
He didn’t want to ask if they liked him, though he was pretty sure on the mother side of the equation. But Lila’s dad…
Ugh. He was going to get heartburn if he kept thinking about this crap.
“Of course they are. They’re overjoyed. Dad’s already asking why we can’t stay through New Year’s.”
“Because of the Oblivion guillotine.” Yet another thing he didn’t want to dwell on.
“Hey,” she said gently, sitting down beside him on the sofa. “It’s all going to be fine.”
“Uh-huh.”
She laced her fingers through his. “I told Donovan I might not be able to go on the trip to London.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want you to be on your own for that first month back. I know it’s going to be difficult. Besides, you guys might need some…steering.”
He grunted. “Saint Deacon will right our ship if we wobble. He takes pride in it. You have to go.”
“Are you sure you want me to?”
He started to reply the way he was sure an understanding, considerate boyfriend would answer. But hell, he was going to propose to the woman—someday, when he found his balls—and she deserved to know what she was getting into.
Understanding? Considerate? Not likely.
“No, I don’t want you to. I’m already not looking forward to the prospect of touring again, because I know you’re not going to be able to go with us. But I have no right to insist my career is more important than yours. It isn’t. I just—”
She tightened her hand around his. “What?”
“You should go to London,” he said finally. “Just be prepared to get about fifty dirty texts a day and possibly a few dirty pictures.”
&
nbsp; She laughed and tipped her head against his. “It’s only for four days. I’ll be back before you realize I’m gone.”
“Doubt it.”
“Gotta say though, I’m glad it bothers you. You’ve been acting so weird lately that I thought you might want to backtrack.”
“Say what? Hey, don’t eat that.” Nick let go of her hand to pry Axl’s mouth off his watch, then nudged his bottle between the baby’s lips again.
Yet another thing about babies that made him nervous—you basically needed six pairs of eyes to keep track of them at all times.
“Okay, wait, backtrack. You just said I wanted to backtrack?” He let out a laugh that sounded more than a little manic even to his own ears.
“I don’t know. Do you? We’ve gone kind of fast.” She fussed with Axl’s socks. “I just want to make sure we’re good.”
“Oh yeah, we’re good. At least I’m good. Are you not good? Is that why you think I’m not? Because, hello, you’re not the only one who can make concessions.” He stuck out his leg as Dylan started to wander past, effectively stopping the toddler in his tracks. Dylan giggled and pushed at Nick’s leg, but Nick didn’t budge. “Didn’t I say I’d be okay with one male child? Concession.”
Lila’s lack of response was the only thing that stilled his tongue. That and the certainty that yet again he’d just fucked himself without benefit of lube.
She grabbed Dylan and set him on her lap, then picked up the ring of plastic keys that he apparently loved to chew on. He latched onto the keys and glanced between the adults, clearly sensing the tension in the air.
Proved he was smarter than Nick, who couldn’t seem to shut the hell up. Especially since she wasn’t talking, which was freaking him out.
“It’s not just about me and what I want. You should go to London, and I should—”
“Impregnate me with one male baby?” The way her eyebrow climbed toward her hairline didn’t exactly demonstrate approval of this idea.
“Only if you want me to. Because I’m open-minded. I don’t always think of just myself. Relationships are about two people both making sacrifices, right?”
“Right. And you inseminating me with this solitary male child would be your sacrifice for me.” She smiled coolly. “Correct?”
“I didn’t say that.” Had he? It was so hard to tell, since he’d said so very much in the last ten minutes.
“No? Sounded that way to me.”
Axl started to whine and push away his bottle, which caused Dylan to lean forward to snag the bottle away from the baby. She plucked it out of his hand. “You have your own bottle, Dylan, and you didn’t want it.”
Dylan screeched loud enough to pop Nick’s eardrums. Forget being on a stage of screaming guitars. That kid’s lungs beat them all.
“You know what, never mind. I think even a single male baby is too many,” Nick muttered.
Lila picked up a squalling, red-faced Dylan and carted him out of the room. He probably needed a diaper change or something. Nick hoped she remembered to move quickly in case of sudden showers.
He’d found that one out the hard way himself a few weeks ago. Evidently, having a penis didn’t instruct you on the ways it could be used against you when changing a baby’s diaper.
Axl glanced up at Nick, his almost nonexistent eyebrows pinched together. “Yeah, yeah, I put my foot in it,” he said to the silently disapproving child. “What else is new?”
He should probably make sure that ring he bought had a good return policy, just in case.
4
Lila
“You’ll be back on the twenty-eighth for our meeting with Blake Carson.”
“Yes, Donovan,” Lila said, doing her best not to sound bored. Or annoyed. Or frustrated.
Perhaps all three.
She was so ready to leave work behind for two weeks. Granted, spending those two weeks with Nick after their not-quite an-argument a few nights ago didn’t sound like an incredible proposition either, but she was looking forward to seeing her family. To being back home in the cheerful bosom of Happy Acres at the holidays.
Oh, and not thinking about the one male child she had been “allowed” to have before the chance had been snatched away.
What a jerk. As if they could order the sex of the kid ahead of time. He was conceding to give her a child. Well, whoop-ti-do. Had she even said she wanted one with him?
No, she had not. Just because he could calm babies with his mystical air guitar skills and that he’d admitted he didn’t want her to go away on a business trip because he would miss her—he hadn’t said the missing part, but she’d gotten the gist—didn’t change the nonsense he’d spewed afterward.
He’d acted like the backtracking thing was so ridiculous, but was it really? He might be happy with her, and she might be happy with him, but if it got to a point when she wanted more, then what?
God, she had to talk to Margo. She needed to speak with a sane female friend who understood how males thought and wouldn’t judge her for wavering between the urge to commit boyfriendcide and the desire to make a lifetime commitment all within the same day.
“Lila? Are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry,” she said, winding a loose strand of hair around her finger. “What did you say?”
While Donovan droned on about meetings and flight plans and rock stars with massive egos, she glanced at Nick, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the plane. In his hand was a giant pair of scissors and he was slicing into wrapping paper with nothing short of glee.
He’d remembered this morning that he hadn’t wrapped any of the gifts he’d gotten for her parents, and though they’d been on the flight for hours already, he was just getting around to decorating the packages. Even that much forethought from him amazed her. Last year, he’d shopped on Christmas Eve. This year, he’d done it a couple weeks early.
Progress. All she could ask for was progress.
“I said merry Christmas, Lila. Don’t think about work for two weeks.”
She smiled. “Thanks. Hope you have a great holiday too. And thank you for letting me borrow the company jet.”
“Sure thing. I may pay a visit to Happy Acres myself one of these days. It sounds bucolic.”
“Bucolic.” She rolled the word around on her tongue. “Yes, I think that’s a good word to describe it. You’re welcome anytime you’d like.”
“Thank you. Happy holidays.” Donovan clicked off.
She set down her phone, then walked past Nick into the bedroom and undid the buttons of her cardigan. That he paid her no mind demonstrated how much of a gulf had formed between them the last few days.
And for what? Because he’d said something Nick-ish about having a male baby. This wasn’t shocking information. She’d known he would be slow to warm up to the whole parenthood idea. No big. They had time.
They had all the time in the world.
It was Christmas, and this year, they had each other. They didn’t have to hide. They were happy and in love, and none of the rest of the stuff mattered. Whatever was meant to be would be.
Que sera sera.
She tossed aside her sweater and went to work on the zipper of her skirt. When she was down to her bra and panties, she took a deep breath and threw back her shoulders. Seducing him still took some effort. It probably always would. She’d spent a lot of years alone, even within the boundaries of her marriage, and undressing for a man—even for Nick—made her skin prickle from the inside out.
But he was worth it. They were worth it. And she was going to strip all the way before she presented herself to him.
All in.
She unclasped her bra and let it fall before shimmying out of her panties. After undoing her bun and shaking out her hair, she walked into the doorway. “Having fun?”
He slapped about two feet of tape around the edges of one gift before smacking on a lopsided bow and moving on to the next. “Not really. I don’t know why packages have to be wrapped anyway. Don’t people care ab
out landfills and shit?” He glanced up and the tape fell out of his hand. “Merry fucking Christmas to me.”
He was on his feet and heading toward her before she could do more than laugh.
He barreled into the doorway, almost knocking her down, and scooped her up into his arms. Taking about three long steps, he flung her on to the bed and hauled off his shirt from behind his head.
“Your workouts are definitely starting to show.” She let her toes climb up over his groin and over the ripples of his stomach. His abs were a thing of glory.
He dipped back his head and took a long breath. “Just been doing crunches and some running now and then. Gotta get back in shape since I can’t hide out on the couch all day long anymore. Well, as much as you let me hide. I did more press this year than I did when I was in a functioning band.”
It was impossible to miss the undercurrent of tension in his voice. He was concerned about getting back together with his bandmates, and dammit, she didn’t want either of them stressed about anything while they were on this trip.
They were going to Happy-freaking-Acres. Happy they would be.
“No complaints here,” she said in her throatiest voice, rubbing her heel over the bulge in his jeans.
God, it was so cute to see the tips of his ears turn pink. “I’m no catwalk model,” he muttered, undoing his belt and zipper. He shoved his jeans and boxers down his legs.
“You could be, if you wanted to.”
After kicking off his boot, he paused with one socked foot in mid-air and his jeans still bunched around his ankles. “Say what?”
“You could model too. You’re not exactly ugly, Mr. Crandall.” She let her gaze wander over his body until she had to flatten her hand against the comforter to stop from squirming. Just checking him out made her wet and hot.
“Oh, man, I’m so going to nail you for even saying that. Me, a fucking model. Jesus.” His other boot went flying and he shed his jeans quicker than she could blink. In a heartbeat, he was on top of her, his hand clasped around her wrists as he drew them above her head. “Bad girl.” He nibbled her chin and down her throat. “So fucking bad.”