by Cari Quinn
“That’s a good thing. So, are you going to marry me? I’m still sore from yesterday. This kneeling shit blows.”
Shaking her head, she dropped to her knees without concern for her towel. He’d seen everything from every angle anyway. “You bought this in November. Weeks before I bought my ring.”
“Oh yeah. Long before.”
“You have a book about babies.”
“Yeah, because according to you, I don’t understand how it works. I’ll have you know I do.” His brows drew together. “I just wanted to cover the finer points, like exactly how long the no sex thing happened. Turns out not all that long, assuming you don’t enrage the female.”
“I can guarantee you will enrage the female. I can also guarantee she probably would still have sex with you, pregnant and otherwise.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I know that’s important to you. Having a family. So it’s important to me too.”
She bit her lip, but it didn’t hold back the tears. That he would say that in spite of his own admitted reluctance about procreation touched her immeasurably. If she’d ever doubted he loved her, she definitely didn’t now.
“Aww, fuck. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
She let out a watery laugh. She loved him too, so she’d offer a compromise of her own. “It’s not something we have to handle right now. We can take our time, ease in.”
“Yeah, easing is preferred, gotta say.” He blew out a breath. “Though aren’t you kind of getting up there? My mom had me and Ricki when she was twenty-two. That book mentioned advanced maternal age.”
Now she did laugh, for real. “Either I have to marry you or I may be brought up on homicide charges.” Shaking her head, she wiped her eyes. “I’m a few years from thirty. Not in the danger zone yet, but thanks for your concern.”
“Okay. Just wanted you to know I didn’t only read the sex parts. Though they were illuminating. I never guessed preggos would want more fruit from the poisoned tree.” He lifted his brows. “Like a lot more fruit. Sometimes in rare cases, even four and five times a day during the second trimester.”
She patted his arm. Rare cases indeed, but let him have his delusions. “I think your fruit’s a little overinflated, but whatever makes you happy, sweetie.”
“So…are we getting hitched?”
She couldn’t stop her grin. Romance? Who needed romance when you had a sexy, gruff, impatient rockstar? “We so are.” She stuck out her hand. “Hurry up already.”
He bobbled the ring getting it out of the box, and fumbled more trying to get it on her finger. But once it was there, shimmering up at her, she laughed through her tears. “Look, fits even with swelling.”
“Thank God.” He made a humming noise in his throat. “So I want to do this soon. Like this spring or summer, assuming you can do your feminine wedding mystique thing in that amount of time.”
“I had a big wedding once. Small is perfect.” She bit her lip again. “Wrong thing to bring up. Okay, moving on.”
“This is your last wedding. So make it exactly the way you want, because I’m not the ‘renew our vows’ type. Once is enough. I don’t need a fucking reminder on my phone.”
“Yes, grumpy.” Chuckling, she leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You have to wear my ring too, you know. If you didn’t lose it.”
“I didn’t lose it.” He rolled his eyes as if that idea was patently ridiculous. “In fact, I’ll go get it right now.”
He stood, then bent to cup her face in his hands. “Thank you. Thank you for saying yes. For giving me a chance to prove I’ll be the best damn husband I can be.”
Her eyes misted over again, so she worked at drumming up a smile. “I’ll expect to be awakened with your tongue between my thighs every morning. It’s in our marital contract.”
He ran his tongue inside his lower lip while his gaze roamed her body. She didn’t have to look to know the hastily-arranged towel was a couple breaths from coming loose. “Oh, baby, you don’t have to give me a reminder for that one either. I’ll never forget. Know how? Because that’s exactly how I intend to fall asleep every night.”
Oh. Okay then.
He bent down to kiss her, so softly she barely felt the pressure of his lips. “I love you.”
Before she could respond in kind, he’d disappeared into the bedroom. A moment later, he called out. “I think I lost the ring.”
19
Nick
He technically didn’t lose the ring. Just misplaced it for an hour until he and Lila moved the bed away from the wall and he discovered it sitting harmlessly on the hardwood floor. Somehow it must’ve rolled out of his pocket.
Whatever. He had it on now, and they were engaged. Fucking finally.
Almost as soon as they’d found the ring, they’d been summoned to supper. Hoo boy, what a supper it was. They’d added about six leaves to the big farm table to accommodate all the guests. So many guests. The lodge was filled to maximum capacity, and some of the people had to double up, like Molly and Juliet. His head was swimming with all the people now in his life.
It was an amazing change, but an overwhelming one too.
The most overwhelming thing was that Lila’s parents were happy they were getting married. They seemed genuinely pleased with the choice their precious daughter had made. Him. She’d chosen him, and no one was threatening to disown her or ignore him at every family event. Her mother had even kissed him dead on the mouth and called him son again.
Without him slipping her a twenty first.
He’d hoped to cap the evening off with some newly engaged sex, but the sheer volume of people, and music, and holiday hilarity at the farm meant that he barely got to see Lila for the rest of the night, never mind feel her up inappropriately. Plus he had to watch Klepto, who was making himself known as a nuisance. Not surprising, since he’d made himself known as a nuisance since his first appearance.
Apparently pies weren’t all he liked to abscond with. So far the tally had included one of Fred’s leather slippers, Molly’s baseball cap, a ring of keys, and a stuffed kewpie doll—he still didn’t know exactly what that was, but that’s what Laverne had called it—from the store, plus the fresh pack of cigarettes Nick had sneaked out to buy. Hey, holiday season. He’d quit in time for the new year. It was almost tradition now.
But he was out of luck again, because even he wasn’t addicted enough to try to salvage a pack of smokes drooled on by the pooch. So it looked like he’d just have to get through the days without nicotine assistance. New Year’s Eve wasn’t that far away anyway.
By the time they dropped into bed, it was ridiculously late. He might’ve tried to put the moves on his soon-to-be wife anyway—at least after a dose of pain pills—but she was asleep before he rolled over.
She’d had a crappy night’s sleep the night before, what with the whole hospital visit. So he grabbed the only book he’d brought with him, which happened to be the preggo one, and started reading again.
There wasn’t nearly enough sex talk as far as he was concerned. However, diagrams of the actual miracle of childbirth? Way too many of those.
He fell asleep with his mind full of placentas and breathing exercises and educational toys. And woke to yet another knock on the door, this time followed by it swinging open and Lila’s stepson stepping inside.
“We don’t have a bassist anymore.”
Nick lifted one eyelid and scowled. Sure he was having a nightmare, he shut it and tried again. Michael Shawcross was still standing just over the threshold, looking plane-fresh with a carry-on slung over his shoulder.
“Hi. Holy shit, dude, what happened to you?”
Life. Life had happened to him, in a very big way. “Nice to see you too,” Nick mumbled.
Michael glanced around the suite. “Where’s Lila?”
That was a very good question, since Nick had assumed she was still in bed with him. Evidently not.
Nick leaned up on one elbow at the sound of the water
running in the bathroom. “Probably taking a shower. Little tidbit for the future, son. When you knock and someone doesn’t answer, don’t just walk in.”
Michael set down his bag and smirked. “I waited to make sure no one was moaning.”
“Kind of you, but still. You might be family and all, but that doesn’t mean you can just waltz in whenever the hell you want.” Li would probably prefer to tell him herself about the whole getting married thing, even if Nick was sorely tempted to remind Michael of his place. He might be getting to like the guy—a little—but that didn’t mean they didn’t have boundaries.
“Gotcha.” Michael moved around the bed, and Nick blearily watched him go until realization dawned about where he was headed.
AKA the bathroom.
“Hold it, asshole. Where do you think you’re going?”
“I was going to talk through the door. We do that all the time.”
Oh, they were going to talk through the door. How special. Not happening.
“Look, I know you guys are close and all, but I’d really appreciate you being mindful of the fact that I’d like to break your dick for looking at her that way.”
Michael blinked, slowly. “Excuse me?”
“We’ve had this conversation before, and we won’t have it again. But trust me when I say the smartest move for you right now is to back away from that door and wait for her to come out.” Nick sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. “After I tell her you’re here.”
There would be no accidental boob flashes on his watch, that was for damn sure.
“Okay, sure. It’s cool. Whatever, man. I’m just here to say hi, tell her I made it and about the band. I knew that Tribbiani dude wasn’t going to last anyway.” He paused. “What the hell is this?”
Nick stood and turned back just as Michael leaned forward to snatch the book Nick had fallen asleep reading. Figures. It couldn’t have slid under the sheets or something.
He dove across the bed to grab it back, belatedly realizing he was lacking pants when his dick snagged on the comforter.
Christ, he was going to have to stop sleeping naked if a parade was going to march through their bedroom every damn morning.
“Give me that.”
“In a second.” Michael studied the cover, his pierced eyebrow climbing for his faux hawk. “A pregnancy book for dudes?” He opened up the book and turned it sideways. “Whoa. Whoa. My eyes!” He dropped the book as if it had scalded his hands and ground his palms into his eyes.
Nick had to laugh. “Did you get to the natural childbirth section? Can you believe some chicks do that without drugs? I’d be asking for everything they had. That shit’s not right.”
The bathroom door opened and Lila stepped out, thankfully wearing a long robe with her hair bundled up in a towel.
She was not smiling.
“Michael,” she said coolly, nimbly plucking the book out of his hand. She set it on the nightstand. “You made it.”
“I did. Hi. Good to see you. Sorry to, err, ah, um, interrupt anything you know, personal.” He gave her an awkward one-armed hug while Nick gave him a pointed stare from his belly-down position on the bed. He was in no big hurry to move.
He’d found that his nudity seemed to make others uncomfortable. So…points for him, since he really didn’t have a damn thing to hide.
Maybe Simon had rubbed off on him, after all.
“You didn’t interrupt anything personal. What’s this I hear about you losing your bassist?”
“You heard that from the other room?” Michael sounded faintly impressed.
Nick gave them a bland smile and propped his chin on his fist. “She even hears thoughts. It’s spooky, really.”
“Put some pants on.”
The disdain in Lila’s voice actually made him hard. He should’ve been ashamed, but oops, he wasn’t. “Not sure you want me to move right now, sweetness.”
The look she gave him almost deflated his boner, if he didn’t happen to have a thing for dragon ladies in terrycloth. “We’re getting married,” she said to Michael without removing her gaze from Nick. “Don’t ask questions. It’s inexplicable, just like the pull of the moon.”
“That’s actually very explicable. In fact, if you study tides—” Michael cleared his throat. “Well, then. Congratulations.” He gave her another awkward hug. “Oh! So that’s what that book is all about. Shotgun wedding, hey?”
Nick whistled between his teeth. He was all for enjoying another dude stepping in it, but this was going to be painful to watch.
Except it wasn’t.
Lila didn’t say a damn thing. Just took the towel out of her hair, unfurling all that incredible blond silk. “Tell me what happened to your bassist. Jon Tribbiani, correct?”
“Yeah.” Michael glanced between them, then jerked a shoulder. “He was too egotistical to be in a band. He thought everything should be all about him, and with Molly around, you know that’s not going to happen.”
“The lead singer is the most important part of the band. You know that. All of the ensemble plays a significant role, but without star power, you’re going nowhere. Molly is your star.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
“Lead singers can be royal pains in the ass. Just sayin’,” Nick muttered.
Neither paid him any mind.
“Ryan can fill in on bass while you’re on the circuit?”
“He’s already filling in on drums. The guy’s amazing, but he’s only one dude. We need someone else.” Michael shoved a hand over the spiky dark hair that crowned his head. “Two someones would be better, truthfully. Ryan’s not used to getting stuck in any one spot. He’s not happy behind the kit twenty-four/seven either.”
“Let’s worry about finding a bassist first, then think about the drummer situation.” She patted his arm and moved past him to the tall narrow dresser in the corner. She withdrew something tiny and lacy from the top drawer, tucking it under her arm as she turned. It was always a thrill to see what kind of skimpy lingerie she slipped on under her trim, tidy business suits.
Pity he had to wait to watch her getting dressed until Mr. Entirely Too Curious left the room.
“Do you have any prospects?” she asked, continuing on to the closet.
Michael shook his head, appearing slightly dazed. “For what?”
Nick barely swallowed a growl. Creeper. “Your bassist. Eyes up, dude. Eyes up.”
“Oh.” Michael’s ears tinged pink. “Yeah, no. I don’t know anybody. West said he might be able to hook us up with a friend of a friend, but you know how he is. Always with the grandiose ideas that never come to fruition. That’s why I thought you could take care of it.”
Lila pulled a pair of jeans off a hanger—only his wife-to-be hung up jeans, he was almost positive—and a pale yellow sweater off the hanger beside it. “I’m on vacation, Michael. A sorely needed one. When I get back, I have other priorities.”
“It’s all Oblivion all the time,” Nick informed Michael.
“Thanks for the update.” Lila returned to the bed and set down her clothes. “You really need to get dressed. I’m not impressed with your assets at the moment.”
“Hmm. Someone woke up on the grouchy side of the bed.” He rolled over to kiss her, but only could reach her arm. She didn’t make any effort to rectify the situation, so he kissed the spot above her watch. “All right, fine. Getting dressed. Don’t want to give the boy any hangups.”
Michael’s lips curled. “Trust me, you didn’t. A baseball bat doesn’t get jealous of a golf club.”
“Oh my God. Testosterone before ten a.m. I can’t even.”
Before Nick could verify the time, she’d gathered up her clothes and sailed back into the bathroom. The door clicked closed after her.
Wow, she’d slept in two days in a row. That basically never happened. Lila functioned on a few hours sleep most nights, and she wasn’t one to give in to lounging around just because he was passed out like a loaf. Must be jet lag had h
it her hard.
Nick rolled onto his back and groaned. Fuck, he needed more pain pills.
“I’m not impressed with your dick, but dude, the bruises you’ve got are freaking wild. Did you fight a grizzly and lose, or what?”
“More like a gangly lead singer. Piece of advice—make sure Molly doesn’t invest in any chunky jewelry.”
“Molly doesn’t like a ton of jewelry from what I’ve seen. She doesn’t like anything interfering with her natural sparkle.”
Nick snorted and pulled the comforter over his waist. He’d flashed enough of his parts for a week.
“So I guess I’m going to go, since Lila doesn’t appear to want to talk about Warning Sign at the moment.” Michael picked up his bag. “Congrats again. Double congrats.”
“Double?” Nick frowned and sat up. “Dude, she’s not knocked up. Don’t hex us like that.”
As soon as he’d said it, he wanted to take it back. It had just been a joke, and a poor one to boot. But when the door didn’t open, though he knew Lila was listening, he wanted to punch his head through the wall.
Nice job, asshole. You just proposed to her with the sweet ‘oh, we can have a family’ speech, then you make a tasteless joke. Fucker.
“Sorry. I just assumed, what with the wedding and the book—”
“No. We’re getting married because we love each other. That’s enough, right? And the book is for the future. Far in the future, probably.”
Perfect. Make a thoughtless comment much worse. He was on a roll.
“Not necessarily,” he tacked on, but Michael was already opening the door.
“Okay. Well, congratulations anyway. I’m going to go see Nana and Pop.”
The names took Nick aback for a minute until he remembered Lila had been bringing Michael to see her parents since he was a young teenager. “Right. I’m sure they saved a bed for you. That whole ‘no room at the inn’ thing is real, man. Place is jam-packed to the rafters.”
“I saw. Smokin’ brunette was outside building a snowman. She looked familiar but I don’t remember her name. Julie? Jessie? She’s…eye-catching.” He mimed the typical male gestures for indicating a stacked female.