“And the best phony husband a girl could have. Give him a kiss for me, won’t you?” With that, she sailed out the door.
Kiss Sebastian for her? Wouldn’t I just love to?
Chapter Two
Poppy
I want Sebastian Cross to play me the way he strums his guitar.
Two hours later, I was at Vagabond with my three best friends—Kate, Darcy, and Iris Davenport. We were drinking champagne and toasting turning twenty-one. All of us had hit the milestone in the same week. It meant we were all destined to be friends.
Kate and I had met at Trinity Prep and roomed together our freshman year at Columbia, where we’d met Darcy and Iris. The four of us had been joined at the hip ever since. Right now, we shared an off-campus apartment, but the lease was up in May. Who knew where we’d be this time next year?
This was the end of an era and the beginning of our adulthood—four girls about to graduate from college, standing at a crossroads in life. We’d chosen different fields—Kate wanted to be a marketing whiz, Iris a chef, Darcy an English professor.
Not that I could concentrate on my future while Sebastian performed.
Guilt hadn’t dimmed this attraction. If anything, it’d sharpened my yearning—given it a taboo edge, which was getting harder to ignore by the minute.
At the moment, Sebastian sang a scorching rendition of
“Don’t Stand So Close to me.” The song was about an older man’s obsession with a younger woman. I could relate, although it had a Darcy-style teacher vibe.
The club had a stage in the center of the room that featured local up-and-coming acts, as well as famous ones touring in the city. The customers were an upmarket wine and piano bar kind of crowd—wealthy Manhattanites in their thirties.
I loved his British accent and the swagger—the man practically strutted as he moved. There was something wicked about the way he prowled around the stage like we’d all come here tonight to worship him. He looked every inch the bad boy with his coal-black hair, big brown eyes, and that mischievous smirk.
He wore a pair of tight blue jeans, a leather jacket, and a black button-down shirt he’d left undone. The hot stage lights illuminated trickles of sweat dripping down his abs. His skin was so pale, it was the perfect canvas for his tattoo. A dark silhouette covered the lower half of his abdomen—a single tall pine tree stretching all the way up to his throat. Birds flew from the tree, fluttering about his collarbones.
I longed to trace the line of it with my fingertips. Oh, hell, I’ll just say it—with my tongue. Why did Sebastian have to be married to my mother? Everything about this situation was unfair.
Sitting here silently lusting over him wasn’t that big a deal. It wasn’t like he’d been my stepfather for years and used to give me piggyback rides when I was a child.
Great. Now I was picturing my legs wrapped around Sebastian.
What was wrong with me?
Kate, forever a pain in my ass, gave me knowing glances, as though she’d heard every dirty thought floating through my head. The girls had given me a hard time about Sebastian all night—teasing me about lusting after him. I was doing my best to ignore the taunts, but it wasn’t easy.
At least I wasn’t the only of us who was distracted.
While I was busy trying to ignore the sexy elephant in the room, Kate seemed more on edge than usual. Dark crescent marks lay beneath her big brown eyes. She ran a hand through her dark, curly brown hair and then wrapped her arms around herself as though she were cold.
Something was up, but this wasn’t the place to drag it out of her.
Darcy was in denial about her own inappropriate older-man crush on Dr. Sterling. While Kate was the bad seed, Darcy was the organized, overachieving good girl. She’d never met a rule she didn’t like to follow.
And she was the only person I knew who’d come to a club dressed in a cardigan. If it weren’t for her uptight wardrobe choices, she’d be a looker. Darcy had olive skin, long, dark brown hair she’d pulled back in a ponytail, and wide-spaced brown eyes.
Poor Iris had discovered earlier that her ex-boyfriend was getting married this summer. Tonight, she wasn’t saying much—just sitting there, listless and wounded. She had dark auburn hair that appeared almost black in this light. Her eyes were big, green, and somehow innocent. She was the only non-native New Yorker amongst us. Iris had come to Manhattan from Mississippi, and it must’ve been a culture shock.
Her ex was William Theodore Archibald III. How pretentious, right? His family came from old money, so I was betting that Iris, who’d come to Columbia on a scholarship, wasn’t “good enough” for him and his snooty family.
Because Bettie is an actress, and I came from “new money,” a lot of the trust fund douchebags like Will looked down on me, too.
“All right, enough moping. This is supposed to be a birthday party.” Kate tapped a spoon against my champagne glass. “Ladies, we owe it to ourselves to do something exciting. We need one more adventure, the last gasp before we get serious about this adulting thing.”
As Kate explained her plan, my horror grew.
According to Kate, I should seduce Sebastian, Darcy should pursue her own forbidden romance, and Iris would get even with Will.
None of us agreed to the scheme. Instead, we squabbled with Kate, trying to talk her out of this insanity, reminding her of stunts we’d pulled in the past that had blown up in our faces, but she heard none of it.
Oddly enough, Kate didn’t have a plan for what her “last gasp” would be yet.
Privately, I knew she had a thing for her boss, Malcolm York.
She claimed to hate his arrogant ass, but she talked about the man way too much. Besides, I’d scoped out his LinkedIn profile and…wow. Malcolm might be a bastard, but he was hot, and if I wasn’t mistaken, exactly Kate’s type.
“Come on—it’ll be fun.” Kate’s eyes were bright with unbridled enthusiasm.
Doing something wicked always gave her a bit of a high—like when she’d shoplifted a lipstick in Bloomie’s, just for kicks. She had the money to pay for it, but I thought she wanted to see if she’d get caught.
Darcy spoke up. “The only thing I’m on board with is Iris getting even with Will—the jerk has it coming.”
“Me too.” I raised a hand. “Will deserves a kick in the teeth.”
“No comment.” Iris downed the rest of her champagne in one swig. “I just want to crawl into bed and stay there for a couple of months.”
I gave her a sideways hug, and she clutched my arm. Why do shitty things always happen to good people?
Then Sebastian grabbed the mic, and I got distracted. Again.
“Listen up, everybody. My stepdaughter, Poppy Bishop, and her mates all turned twenty-one this week.”
A spotlight illuminated our table and the crowd cheered. I could feel the blush staining my cheeks, Kate raised both arms and drank in the adulation, Iris barely registered the attention, and Darcy gave a queenly wave.
“Happy birthday, ladies. Gents, bring out the cake. And don’t worry, folks, we made enough for everybody.”
Sebastian pointed to the kitchen, and the busboys wheeled out an enormous pink-and-white three-tiered cake topped with blazing sparklers. The guests hooted and hollered their approval. As a group, we stood, holding hands around the dessert.
I looked at each of my friends in turn, taking a mental picture of the moment. We’d finally made it to the cusp of maturity—I just hope we were ready for it.
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Come on now. Make a wish, and blow out the candles.”
Kate winked and whispered in my ear, “I’m betting his wish is to lick icing off your—”
I kicked her in the shin. “Are we going to do this thing or what?”
As a group, we leaned in and blew out the sparklers.
The horde of people around us erupted into another round applause. Then the busboys sliced into the cake, dividing the dessert onto plates, presumably to be passed out.
“Happy birthday, Poppy.” Sebastian had taken to the microphone again. “Have something sweet, love, and celebrate another trip around the sun. This one’s for you.” He belted out a rocking rendition of “Forever Young” by Rod Stewart.
And I couldn’t take my eyes off the stage. The hair rose on the nape of my neck and I drank in every word of the song.
“Oh yeah, nothing’s going on there.” Like the proverbial devil on my shoulder, Kate smirked.
“Shut your face.”
Later, after the party broke up, I found Sebastian in his office with the door ajar. He was leaning back in his chair—booted feet on his desk, staring off into space, presumably lost in thought.
For a moment, I was dumbstruck. My God, the man was handsome, and being near him gave me some kind of hormonal contact high.
I could count on one hand the number of times we’d been alone together. For the most part, he stayed at Vagabond. He had an apartment above the bar, and he saw my mother and me for photo ops—staged dinners, premieres, and other events. Though she made a point to stop by the club on occasion. And he’d gone to her show to give her roses and take pictures with the rest of the cast.
You can do this. I smoothed my skirt and then knocked.
Sebastian shook his head, as though clearing it.
“Have a good birthday, love?”
“The best—thanks for throwing me the bash.”
“My pleasure.” He lifted a glass of iced tea. “Care for a drink? I’d offer you something stronger, but…”
Like my mother, he was completely off drugs, except for caffeine and nicotine.
“Tea’s fine. I’ve had more than enough booze for one night.” I took a sip after he handed another glass to me and took a seat on the opposite side of the desk.
He chuckled. “Trust me—you haven’t had enough until you can’t remember what happened the night before.”
“No blackouts, thanks.” Since I’d watched my mom battle her addiction for years, I never partied too hard. “Speaking of, I’ve always wondered—what made you decide to open a bar?”
One brow lifted. “Wouldn’t pull in much of a crowd if I served apple juice.”
“Come on—be serious.” I loved his sly sense of humor, but I knew a deflection when I heard one.
He lifted a shoulder. “I like a pint or two now and then, but it isn’t my drug of choice. So there’s no real harm in owning Vagabond unless I start serving heroin.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. Recovery was a personal topic, and Sebastian almost never talked about it.
I should go home. Instead, I was thinking of things to say to draw this conversation out longer.
To make matters worse, Kate’s ridiculous dare kept playing in my head. Outside, I heard the clink of dishes being loaded into the washer, the scrape of chairs on the floor as they were moved. The bar was about to close, and soon we’d be alone. Anything could happen.
Hozier’s “Take Me to Church” came on the radio. Unconsciously, I swayed with the music.
“I love this one.” It was such a moody, haunting song, and I had the urge to dance every time I heard it.
“I remember. You were singing it the first time I saw you.”
Yet another flush crept up my cheeks.
Before the producers had brought him on as a contestant for my mother’s “hand in marriage,” he’d come over for a business lunch. I’d been at my mom’s place during a week-long studying frenzy, armed with donuts from my favorite bakery and Tylenol for finals.
When they’d walked in—my mother, the show’s producers, and Sebastian— I’d been on a break. So I was boogying in the living room, earbuds in, eyes shut, giving a full-on concert.
Belting out a tune and dancing is a great way to deal with stress. And getting caught by a roomful of strange people adds to it.
“I was so humiliated.” Although, hey, Sebastian and I had a song. Hmph, I didn’t even know it.
Yeah, like I said—I was desperate.
“I’ve found it always pays to make an entrance, and yours was unforgettable. You were standing there in a t-shirt and a tiny pair of shorts. I can’t get the image out of my mind.”
Our eyes met. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.
Was he flirting with me, or was I hallucinating?
Maybe I was so anxious for his attention that I was imagining things. Sebastian was forty-one, handsome, wealthy, and worldly. As an average-looking college girl with a crush, I shouldn’t even be on his radar.
And he was my stepfather, for pity’s sake. The knowledge should be a shield, keeping me from a catastrophic decision. Yet here I was, flirting with disaster.
Sebastian cleared his throat and then glanced away.
“You're nice.”
“I’m never nice.” He made the word sound like an insult. “And I’ve got a musical mind.” Sebastian placed a fingertip to his forehead. “Never forget a melody.”
He was humoring me. Yep, this infatuation was doomed. It was time to head home and forget about Sebastian—this couldn’t go anywhere. I should’ve gotten past it a long time ago.
Before I could summon the will to go, Sebastian stood and rounded the desk.
I sucked in a breath.
“My arrangement with your mum is ending soon.”
“I know.” Like I could forget.
“Soon, I’ll be headed out on my world tour. And you’re still planning on Stanford?”
“Yes.” I’d be there in August. Sometimes, it felt like a million years away. Others, like now, it felt like it was only a few moments away.
“So, you’re implementing Project Normal Life, huh?”
Over the past couple of months, we’d had discussions about my future plans and my desire to live an average life out of the public eye.
“That’s the plan.”
“Think it’ll make you happy?”
I nodded. “I’m looking forward to blending in.”
“Hmm. Ever think you romanticized it? Since you’ve grown up with a famous mother, you don’t know what a real life looks like.”
“Maybe.” I’d considered this, too. “But I’d love to try.”
He shook his head. “Funny. As long as I can remember, I craved stardom. I used to play concerts in front of the bathroom mirror when I was a kid, singing into my hairbrush. I even practiced acceptance speeches for my Grammy.”
Somehow, I could imagine him staging shows as a kid.
“Wow, you’ve got confidence.”
“A certain amount of self-assurance is necessary to survive in this business. You gotta have faith in yourself, in your own talent, because you get knocked down all the time.”
Bettie had that quality in spades. Even when she got a bad review from a critic, she could shrug it off—after the obligatory twenty-minute obsession session where I talked her down. I was happy to only be evaluated by a supervisor—no hypercritical social media trolls for me, thanks.
“At least you had the option.” Since I’d been born in the public eye—I’d had to roll with notoriety, no matter how irritating it could be. Quitting wasn’t a choice I could make.
“True. You didn’t sign on for this life. And maybe no one’s ever ready for it. Your mum and I were too young when we hit it big—we couldn’t handle the fame, the pressure of it all. We let it destroy us.”
“What was it like?” I asked, curious. “When you hit it big?”
His lips curved. “Intoxicating. People sing my songs back to me—they know every single word. It’s like a drug—being on stage, the focus of this intense adoration. Maybe that’s my real addiction.” Sebastian leaned forward. “I think that’s why you don’t like celebrity—you’ve always been in the background, never the focus of it.”
“And I don’t intend to be.”
For a moment, we sat there, agreeing to disagree. I should be going, but couldn’t pull myself way.
“So I guess this mea
ns I won’t be seeing much more of you.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.
His cheeks hollowed, and another long moment passed between us. We started at one another, eyes unblinking.
And then Sebastian bent his head.
My breath caught. And while my mind knew better, my heart didn’t care. I shut my eyes and waited—waited for a kiss that never came.
With a groan, Sebastian staggered to his feet.
So, I stood, wanting more contact. I licked my lips, and his gaze followed the movement. And before I could stop myself, I clutched the collar of his shirt. My heart pounded so hard that I could feel it banging against my ribs. Then, in slow motion, I touched my lips to the corner of his mouth.
He moaned but didn’t move away.
So I brushed my lips against his softly. With a gasp, Sebastian cupped my face and tipped my head back. He pressed his mouth firmly against mine, and I was lost.
I’m not sure how long we stood there, exploring each other, but I wanted the contact to last forever. Everything about this was wrong. Yet I didn’t give a damn.
And then Sebastian jerked back as if he’d been hit by a live wire.
“I shouldn’t be doing this.” He placed himself behind the desk once more, putting physical barriers between us, since the others had crumbled.
“It was just…” I touched my fingertips to my lips—they still tingled.
“We kissed, and I’m at fault, love. I’m older and supposedly wiser, and you’ve been drinking.”
“Don’t blame it on the champagne. I haven’t had that much.” Sebastian was trying to minimize what happened, and I wouldn’t let him. “I’ve been thinking about you, about this, for a long time.”
“You shouldn’t say such things.” His eyes fell closed, and he made a pained sound.
“Let’s talk about it.” Tonight, I was reckless. Sure, I’d like to blame Kate’s plan and my general anxiety about my future, but it was an excuse.
“No, we’ll just chalk this up to a strange night and forget it ever happened.”
“It could be more than a kiss. If you’re willing?” I mumbled, barely able to get the words out.
Wild Ride (Let it Ride Book 2) Page 2