by S. L. Scott
Tulsa Crow may get what he wants, but I’ve realized I want to give him everything he desires. My love for this man runs deep.
Breaking into my silent love affair with him, he says, “The song has come together.”
“I love when we come together.”
He tucks some hair behind my ear and cocks an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”
“I have an open-door policy when it comes to you.”
“God, I love to open your doors. How much time do we have?”
“Not long enough before we have to leave for the arena.”
We both sigh in sync. Before we get up to pack our guitars away, I lean over and kiss him. “I love the song.”
“It’s beautiful, like you.”
“Will you play it with me for Laird?”
“I’ll do anything you want me to as long as I get rewarded with more kisses.”
“It only costs me kisses?” Kiss. “I’m winning with this deal.” Kiss.
“You won already.”
“You’re talking about you, aren’t you?”
“Sure am. Now c’mere and kiss me again.”
I do because, fuck it, I choose him. “Let’s be late.”
New York City
Held without bail after being deemed a flight risk, Andrés will be spending the next few months waiting for his trial since he pleaded not guilty.
I’ve never felt safer.
I’m finally free from that sinking feeling I thought I’d always have to live with. I don’t any longer. At least for a few months. Our lawyer feels the case is strong enough to send him away for a few years.
All I can do is pray he actually sees the error of his ways.
As my fame grows, and the media covers me more often, I focus on my surroundings, and for safety, I carry pepper spray now.
It’s pocketed away, though.
Standing in the middle of Times Square, we ask a kind stranger from Germany to take our photo. When we get my phone back, I wrap my arms around Tulsa’s neck and lift onto the balls of my feet. “What city is this?”
“Lucky Thirteen.”
“Thirteen different cities. Thirteen kisses.”
With a smirk, he holds me close by my ass. “We didn’t kiss in LA.”
“That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time to make up for it.”
With that, he kisses me right beneath the electronic billboard advertising our sold-out tour and The Crow Brothers record. I’ve never been happier.
Atlanta
The package was waiting for me when I checked into our suite. We may have to hide our union from the world, but we refuse to in private. We now stay together. Always.
He pulls a key from his bag, slices the top open, and then hands it to me. “What is it?”
“I have no idea. Lauralee told me to open it with you here, though.” I pull the packing paper from the top, and my mouth drops open. “Oh, my God! She did not!”
“What’d she do?”
I start laughing so hard as I pull the product from the box. “I think this is actually for you.” Handing it to him, he looks curious and confused, so I read the note inside. “For those times when you can’t be together. Congrats on the nuptials. Wishing you love and laughter, Lauralee.”
With the plastic gift in hand, he holds it up. “Um . . . am I supposed to stick my dick in this?”
“Yes.”
“And why would I do that?”
“It’s a customized dildo kit. A joke we once shared.” I’m laughing too hard to explain more. I finally take it from him and sit on the bed.
Standing in front of me, he asks, “Customized?”
When I finally catch my breath, I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes. “Yes, you stick your dick in to make the mold, and we send it back to the company. They make a dildo from the mold, and then when I’m on the road, or you’re on the road and we can’t be together, we can still be together. If you get my drift.” I add a wink for flair.
“Your friend is very weird. I’m not sure how I feel about this. Maybe we should have registered for gifts.” He starts laughing. “We obviously can’t trust our friends and family.”
I toss it over my head and lie back. “Maybe you should always make sure to leave me with a way to remember you.”
As he slides my shirt up, exposing my bra, he starts kissing between my breasts. “Now that’s something I intend to do.”
Miami
It’s just past midnight. People still walk on the beach along the ocean, but it’s private enough. The two bodyguards standing twenty feet away aren’t my favorite way to spend a romantic night with my husband, but I’m slowly acclimating to having them around.
Especially after how Tulsa has become the media’s new favorite It guy. Women are all over him, Rivers, and Ridge. Apparently, that’s what we’re calling Dave now. Deep down, he’ll always be Dave to me.
Jet gets his fair share of attention, but since he’s open to talking about the love of his life, reporters and paparazzi fixate on the available Crow brothers. At times like these, I hate that I can’t claim Tulsa in public. He’s amazing, and never lets any female near enough to touch him, which I appreciate, but I want the world to know about us. I want to be by his side. It’s been a lesson in patience. In other words, I think I was a spoiled before, because I am not good at being patient at all.
Don’t even get me started on my brother and cousin’s attention from the ladies and groupies. They’re more than happy knowing that Tulsa isn’t up for grabs . . . literally. I overheard Shane say, “More for us,” the other day. Ick.
Tulsa and I have stolen nights, hours, even minutes, anytime we can along the tour, especially this last leg. But it will soon be coming to an end, so I planned a midnight picnic at the beach. Otherwise, we’d never even see this beautiful ocean before jetting off to Texas tomorrow.
With full bellies and a little wine in us, we lie on a towel in the sand, staring up at the stars. “I used to try to find the stars wherever I was in the world. They gave me something solid to hold onto. I felt that if I could find them, I could always find the strength to keep pursuing my dreams after he tried to destroy me.” I don’t have to say his name for Tulsa to know who I’m talking about. He reaches over and brings my hand to his chest. His heart beats strongly, giving me all the strength I need these days.
We’re both tired from touring, but it’s moments like these when I love how many facets of Tulsa’s personality I’ve gotten to know. He’s still cocky—often— but nothing is hidden between us. No secrets. Just love.
Turning my head to look at him, I add, “Somewhere along this tour, I stopped looking for the stars and found you.”
Houston
Tulsa always watches our show. Sometimes, he’s in the audience, attempting to blend in, though, he always stands out. Sometimes, he watches from backstage. Where he is during the show may vary, but he’s always waiting for me when I come off stage and that never changes. He’s the first person I see. I walk into his sweet embrace, his words making me feel like I can do no wrong.
Maybe in his eyes, I can’t.
I’m not willing to test the theory.
“You were amazing tonight,” he says into my ear.
I take him by the hands and lead him to a little room I scoped out earlier. It’s hard to be sneaky with a bodyguard following us, but he’s good at keeping our secrets. We slip inside, but Tulsa opens the door and hands his drumsticks to him. “Hold these please.”
“No problem.”
The door is closed again and, this time, locked. Kissing him on the neck, I leave a wet trail as I work my way up to his ear and rub against the outside of his jeans. “I want you.”
My bruises are still obvious, though fading, but he’s still careful when he touches me. Too careful, for my liking. He asks, “You want me to fuck you?”
“I do,” I say, still high from the stage. “God, your face. I just want to ride it. Make me come, baby.”
&nbs
p; “Fuck, woman. How can I say no to that?”
“I’m hoping you can’t. We don’t have much time.”
He gets to his knees before me and lifts the hem of my dress. Taking the sides of my bloomers, he has them down to my ankles in seconds. I step out of them and wait for what I hope is a fun surprise.
His deep blue eyes dart to mine, and I think I hear him gulp. “What’s wrong?” I ask, pretending I don’t know why he stopped.
Taking my hot pink thong down my legs, his eyes return to my legs. “Nothing.” A smile takes over, though, and then he starts chuckling. “I was wondering what happened to these.”
With my fingers under his sexy jaw, I lift it until he’s looking at me again. “You took my underwear that night.”
“Technically, you threw them at me.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“You did. Don’t worry, though, you’re a sexy drunk.”
I begin to laugh. “You’re lucky we’re together, or I’d be seriously pissed that you lied to me. I tore my hotel room apart looking for these. I was worried I gave them to—”
Standing with the panties in his hand, he says, “Worried you gave them to the hottest guy you’ve ever seen?” He shrugs with a smirky smirk on his face. “You did. We have ten minutes left. You want to waste them talking or . . .” His hand slides under my dress and two fingers slip between my thighs.
My head falls forward on his chest, and for the next nine minutes, we feel and touch, kiss and come.
I close the door behind us as he takes his drumsticks from the bodyguard. Before he can run off, I call to him, “Hey, hot stuff. You forgot something.” When he looks back, I toss him the panties. “Break a leg.”
My man walks away swinging hot pink lace around the tip of his sticks as he heads onstage. My panties are tucked into his pocket when he sits on his stool.
The lights are down, and I wait with bated breath as he kicks into a solo. When the lights flood the stage and the guitars kick in, screams of excitement fill the arena as The Crow Brothers bring the audience to life, like Tulsa does to me.
41
Tulsa
San Antonio
Tonight’s the night.
I stand on the side of the stage with my acoustic guitar in hand and wait for Nikki’s cue. When they finish their song, she steps up to the microphone and pauses. Taking a breath, she lifts her head. “We’re debuting a new song tonight, one I co-wrote with someone I know you love as much as I do.”
Clever phrasing, my rebel. The audience won’t know the difference, but I do. As for the song, she’s giving me too much credit. I tweaked it a little, but it’s her song. I also gave Faris Wheel full rights to it. That made Laird happy, but being the cynic he is, he made a remark about how we never signed prenups before the vows, so I get half of her share anyway.
I hadn’t thought of that, but I find it funny.
The song is going to be huge when it hits the radio. I can’t wait to say I told you so. Nikki’s a hard worker and a fantastic performer. Faris Wheel is made up of solid musicians and catchy songs. This will be the last time they open for two other bands on a tour, though I’m trying to talk them into opening for us on the next one. Nikki laughed. Laird and Shane didn’t.
Laird nods to me, silently telling me to come on stage. We high-five when I pass to join Nikki on center stage. I hug her, though not how I want to since an audience of approximately fifteen thousand people is staring at us as she introduces me.
When I wave, the crowd goes crazy. It feels good to be king. Turning to my queen, I ask, “Are you ready?”
She nods and strums her guitar, which settles the audience, tipping them off to the beginning. I plug my guitar in and strum once to make sure it’s still in tune. Nikki looks back at her band, and they give the go-ahead. Shifting back on one of her heels, she looks at me while playing our song for the world to hear for the first time.
There’s a point in the song when we’re singing together, sharing a mic and looking into each other’s eyes. That’s what Rivers meant when he told us to hold on to the magic and to never lose that connection. Never take my eyes off her. Never look at her less than how I wholly love her.
He’s right.
Over the course of this tour, I’ve come to have a few regrets. I used to call them a good time, but I don’t need to hang my hat or leave a souvenir at the door anymore. This change didn’t happen because I met Nikki. I changed because of Nikki. She made me want to be her man. So as the song winds down and we step back from the mic, I give her the smile she seems to love the most and receive the same in return.
As the fans clap, she laughs. A huge weight has been lifted from her shoulders, the doubts she once had are gone. A roadie comes to take my guitar as planned, and then I take Nikki’s hand.
She’s too happy to hide her smile, but her eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
I owe Rochelle big time for helping me pull this off. It’s been planned for a while, but she said we could go public the same day I received the rings. I put mine on before coming out on stage.
Dropping to one knee before my wife, I can tell she knows what’s coming by the tears that form in her eyes. If we wanted to talk, we couldn’t over the cheering echoing around us, so I pause, not waiting for a special moment. We had that in Vegas, just the two of us.
This is about logistics and making this perfect for her.
Laird rolls his eyes a lot like his sister does. Shane plays a soft drumroll on the kit while my band, my brothers, join us onstage. Surprisingly, so do Tommy, The Resistance, and all of the roadies, one of which puts a microphone headset on me, so I can be heard. The entire crew is here. That sets off even more screaming. It’s great to have the support of our touring family and friends.
But when her parents come out with Lauralee, her eyes go wide in surprise. She doesn’t run to them. She stays, turning her attention back to me.
I take a deep breath, then exhale, feeling calm in her presence. “Nikki, I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. You took my breath away and stole my heart before I realized it’d gone missing. Then you saw me—the real me—through the simple gestures and laughs, long walks and long talks. You opened your heart, but what you didn’t realize is you opened mine as well and taught me what true love is. Thank you for trusting me with your days, your nights, your future, and your life. I will always be grateful to you and forever proud to call you my wife.”
I’m not sure if everyone in the arena is holding their breath or nothing exists but this perfect woman before me, but I only hear and see her. Her love. Her pride. Her light shining down on me. I say, “I hope I can be the man who makes you proud to call me husband. We’re already married, so I’m not asking for a redo. I’m asking for our friends and families to continue to be a part of our journey and bear witness to the love we have to share with each other. Will you spend your life with me, darlin’?”
I thought she was used to the spotlight, but I’m thinking she’s right about the costumes we wear out here. Each time she steps out onstage, the fans get the lead singer, the guitarist, the entertainer. Offstage, I get her. She kneels in front of me and hugs me. “Yes. All my days are yours, Tulsa.”
“And you own all my nights.” I slip the band of diamonds on her finger, and the crowd goes wild.
Austin: After the tour
Jet steps up into the moving truck and sets a large box down. “Hey, Tulsa, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Berk Cartwright.”
That’s a name I’d be happy never to hear again. “What about him?”
“Hannah’s been helping me do some research.”
“What’d you find?”
“He has a warrant here in Texas for writing hot checks. There’s a fraud charge against him in Arizona.”
It’s hot as hell in the back of this truck, but I try to keep my cool. “The band has made a name. We have a successful album on the charts . . . he’s wanted for money issues. Kind of all comes together, doesn
’t it?”
Taking his hat off, he drags his sweaty forehead across his shirtsleeve. “I think we’re seeing the big picture.”
“Yeah. Seems that way.”
“We can go down that road with theories of why he’s doing this, but I don’t think we’ll ever know what’s inside his head.”
“Probably not. I have a feeling honesty isn’t his strong suit.”
Nikki comes down the driveway with a box in her hands. Jet says, “I’m heading in.” He hops down just as she walks up and hands me the last box. “That’s it,” she says, dusting her hands off like she’s put in a hard day’s work as a mover. It’s three boxes. I’ll give her credit for the second one since it was a little heavier, but the other two weren’t bigger than a boot box.
Eyeing her fine ass, I know Daisy Duke never wore shorts like those. She bends over to tug at the top of one of her boots. Brown boots with blue stitching that, apparently, Sassie helped her pick out with me in mind. Add in the braids dipping out from under my favorite ball cap—vintage Astros—and a T-shirt knotted at her waist, and she’s a walking fantasy.
She pulls a lollipop from her pocket and pops it in her mouth. It’s a sight I’ll never get tired of. But, man, it does things to me.
I jump down from the back of the moving truck and take her by the hand, spinning her once, and then back again. We begin to dance, slowly, and then move into a two-step she’s mastered.
The way her dark gray shirt hugs her tits is very distracting, but every time I read the orange printing on the front, I laugh. “Drinks swell with others.” I’ve seen it before, but it’s become one of my favorites she wears. Not just for how it fits her body, but for how it also fits her personality. Everyone loves her and loves to bask in her happy glow.