“You think I mildly tolerate you?” Her eyes darted to my mouth.
She was like Eve holding out a juicy apple, and I was like Adam, telling myself that one bite was completely harmless.
I’m not gorging myself on her fruit, so it’s fine, right?
I leaned down, brushing my thumb her parting lips.
The sound of the door opening jolted me back.
“MOM!”
Her eyes went from lust to panic in one second.
The worst part was, I was still planning on getting that kiss. I’d just tie Braden to a chair and put him outside for a while. It was warm; he’d be fine. I might even throw him a scrap.
Don’t let it ever be said I wasn’t generous. He was lucky he was still breathing.
He skipped into the kitchen with Piper, his fiancée, in tow and stuttered to a stop. His eyes flashed to the two plates, the wine, and I could see him noting the proximity between his mom and me — doing the hard math and all that.
Piper peeked around him and grinned. “Are we interrupting?”
“No!” Bronte nearly took out my eardrums with her response. “We were just… talking… shop.”
I choked on a laugh. “Yeah, shop. You know, code word for—”
She smacked me hard enough for two of my abs to slam against my ribs and back again.
“So…” Bronte shoved me away, while I tried not to feel a bit defeated that all it had taken was her son, my friggin’ protégé, to change the entire tone of the night. “…are you guys hungry?”
I wanted to grab the lasagna, bark “mine,” and then sneeze on it, so they didn’t stay.
Instead, I waited to see what Braden would do.
His eyes narrowed as he ran his hands through his dark red hair. “I’m watching you.”
“This is me terrified,” I said in a bored tone then added a yawn for good effect.
Piper snickered behind him and eyed Bronte then me. “So how did this little… situation happen?”
“God,” I snapped. “Ordained by God.”
Bronte shot me a stern look that made me feel more excited than threatened and moved our plates to the larger table, adding two more for our unwelcome guests.
When we sat down, I opened my mouth to say, “Shall we bless the meal?”
But I was beat when Piper and Bronte started going on and on about Pinterest.
I eyed my fork at about the same time Braden eyed his knife. Our minds were one as we both, no doubt, wondered how much physical pain would take us away from the conversation about boards, pins, and — gasp — DIY.
“You better not be hitting on my mom,” Braden said under his breath and unnoticed by the girls since they were in their own little world.
I took a huge bite of lasagna and chewed, then grinned. “I would never strike a woman.”
He gritted his teeth. “Drew, I’m serious! She’s my mom, and she’s… sensitive.”
I scowled. “So, what does that make me?”
“A damn caveman!” he hissed.
“Braden!” Bronte smacked him on the back of the head. “Language!” She turned back to Piper and kept talking.
I snickered behind my wineglass. “That’s another dollar for the swear jar… son.”
“I’m killing you…” His eyes narrowed. “…if you touch her.”
I took another big bite. “Define… touch.” Damn, this lasagna is good. “Do you mean like this…” I reached over and trailed a fingertip down her arm.
Goosebumps erupted before she pulled her arm away and set it in her lap. Bummer.
Braden smiled as if he’d just won the war.
He had no clue I would fight until the bitter end.
I was Italian, after all.
And that was my lasagna, damn it!
“Anyway, Braden’s convinced we shouldn’t go, but I think it would be really fun, and we’re going to be going on tour again soon, so…”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Bronte smiled over at us.
Braden and I exchanged panicked what did we miss looks.
“Don’t you, Braden?” prodded Bronte.
“Err…” His eyes widened at me, searching, begging for help.
I grinned and drank another gulp of wine instead.
Not today, son, not today.
“Yes?” His uncertainty colored his response more like a question.
“Thank you!” Piper jumped to her feet and ran around the table to kiss him.
Hell, maybe he did answer right.
“I know you hate road trips, but I’ve really been wanting to go down the Oregon coast, and it’s so nice this week! Plus, we aren’t going to get to do a honeymoon since we’ll be on tour.”
He kissed her back and sighed. “Fine, but we aren’t renting one of those homes on wheels.”
“Motorhome, sport, motorhome,” I piped in.
“Call me sport one more time,” Braden snapped.
I was about to when Bronte kicked my chair. “What?” I mouthed.
“You sure you’re okay, Mom?” Braden looked sad and then determined. “I mean, it’s the week of your anniversary and your birthday. I’ve always done something special for you, so you remember who the man of the house is. And I know on top of all that you’re dealing with Amelia’s upcoming appointment.”
His eyes locked on mine in warning before he looked back at her.
Guilt slammed me in the chest. Message received. Don’t mess with her if you aren’t going to stay.
It wasn’t like I had a stellar reputation with women, according to anyone in the world, but how was it my fault they liked to show up naked and uninvited on my tour bus?
“Braden…” Bronte stood then bent over and kissed his head. “…I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Plus, I’m in a gorgeous house, and my kids are in the same place. I’m good.”
“I don’t like it,” he grumbled.
“You guys need to do some sort of honeymoon, and the weather’s perfect. Just go with Piper and stop worrying about your old mom.”
Piper laughed. “Oh my gosh, Bronte, you’re not old! You could be my sister!”
That was true.
She was so stunning my eyes hurt. God, I suddenly wanted to be the lasagna.
Imagine how many times her hands had touched the noodles.
Wait, just kidding.
Noodles are not sexy.
And they’re limp.
Nope, no noodles.
I was a nail.
A hard as hell nail.
And she was the hammer and—
“Drew?” Piper waved in front of my face. “You in or what?”
Ah shit. I had no clue what they were talking about, but Braden looked ready to murder me, so I assumed he didn’t want me in anything. “Sure, why not?”
“Great!” Piper clapped her hands. “It’s the best plan anyway! We all know Drew doesn’t have a house here and hates the hotels and refuses to stay with anyone because he hates charity. He can stay in the guesthouse make sure your mom takes care of herself. He can keep working on the album without having to go back to LA on Friday.” She smiled at Braden. “Then you won’t feel guilty about her being alone with Amelia—” then focused that smile on me “—and you won’t feel guilty about missing all that studio time, right?”
I grinned. “Piper, have I ever told you how much I adore you as a human being and a strong, wise feminine force of nature?”
She just rolled her eyes, then clinked her glass with mine and whispered under her breath while Braden and his mom argued about strange men being in her house. “You owe me.”
“Duly noted.” I winked. “Duly noted.”
CHAPTER 4
Bronte
I didn’t sleep that night.
I wasn’t even sure I closed my eyes since my alarm went off at eight. I was still staring up at the ceiling, wondering how I was going to survive Drew living in the guesthouse a few feet from my bedroom door — because in a moment of clarity, Braden had decided to have t
he quarters built off the side of the master next to the pool.
I gulped and threw the covers over the bed. I could handle this. I was an adult. A mom! I had raised three children, I birthed them, and I’d done that on my own without my ex’s help.
So, having a sexy as hell rockstar with no censor drinking coffee shirtless next to the pool this week?
Fine. I was going to handle it and be totally fine.
I hated how much my own son knew me. Birthday week had always been our week, and a part of my heart had crumbled when Piper said it was the only time they could go.
But it wasn’t about me. It was about them, their new life together. God, the love they had for each other was so tangible I wanted to weep every time I saw them holding hands.
It was beautiful.
And it reminded me that it was something I’d never had with another human. The sort of love that you read about or watched in movies. I’d been a one-night stand to the captain of the football team, and when I’d turned up pregnant from that night, his strict Catholic parents made him marry me.
I hadn’t found that out until the divorce, when he said he’d been forced and that he had never truly loved me.
It had been like a knife to my heart.
And then he’d twisted it even more by naming all the girls he’d slept with who I’d once called friends — all during our marriage when I was alone at night with three kids.
I was sure they’d either laughed behind my back or felt pity every single time we’d all met as a group and done dinners.
I blew out a shaky breath and went into the bathroom to get ready. Drew said he’d bring breakfast while he moved some of his stuff in. I still wasn’t understanding how he was going to help me during a week when I was reminded on a daily basis how alone I’d become.
He was the exact opposite of the sort of person I needed to be relying on. Because — just like my ex — he would leave.
And, just like my ex, I was pretty sure Drew didn’t understand the word celibate, and even if he did, he probably threw salt over his shoulder every time someone uttered it out loud.
I quickly brushed my teeth and lost a losing battle with my makeup. I didn’t want to look as if I’d gotten ready for him, but I also didn’t want him to see the dark circles under my eyes or comment on my many freckles, so I laid on a bit of foundation, some mascara, added some gloss, then put my hair in a quick braid.
My expression stared back at me in the mirror; I looked terrified and pale.
Fantastic.
I pulled on a pair of black leggings and a loose white Nike sweatshirt and was just putting on a pair of running shoes when the doorbell rang.
My heart galloped around in my chest like a stallion as I slowly walked to the door and, with a deep breath, pulled it open and prayed he wasn’t his usual rockstar, impossible-not-to-like self.
Drew had a black Yankees hat on with low slung jeans, which molded to his body and had rips in all the right places, and he was wearing another loose tank, this time gray, that showed his tattoos and, of course, was big enough that if he moved you could see inside.
Nipple piercings.
Because, why not?
I quickly looked away.
“Coffee.” He waltzed right into my kitchen and held out a coffee carrier; there were four medium-sized cups.
I frowned. “Are we having company?”
“Nope, you get me all to yourself today.” He winked. “What was that? Did you just sigh cheerfully and almost swoon?”
I glared then took my coffee. “Why four cups?”
He shrugged. “I’m extra, why else?”
“Now that I believe,” I grumbled, then yawned behind my hand. “Sorry, didn’t sleep well.”
He tilted his head; his blue eyes seemed to stare right through to my soul. “Why don’t you go lie back down? I can manage the few bags I have. It’s not like I’m moving in.”
“Ha!” I nearly choked on my tongue. “No, you aren’t, so don’t get any ideas. I don’t do roommates.”
“Where’s Amelia?” he asked, changing the subject.
I smiled; my daughter was always a safe topic. “She’s sleeping over at a friend’s. She texted last night and is coming back around noon before heading to the beach.”
“You give her a lot of freedom,” he said it in a way that didn’t come across as judgmental, more thoughtful than anything.
I glanced at the other bag in his hand that was starting to smell like sausage and bacon. “What’s that?”
“Ah, this.” He held out the bag. “I went to Pigs in the Blanket and got us breakfast to go. I wasn’t sure what you wanted and figured if I texted you again, you’d probably follow through on that restraining order, so I got you protein and enough carbs to make sure we don’t lose that amazing ass of yours.”
Fire flared across my cheeks. “Thanks?”
“I’m here to help.” He winked and began taking out enough food to feed an army. And just like last night, he set the table as if we were having a date, as if this wasn’t casual, as if he really wanted to sit down and chat when we could have easily stood next to the breakfast bar, eaten for fifteen minutes then gone our separate ways.
Then again, he had said last night that he’d bring breakfast, and then we’d talk. Whatever that meant.
“So…” I took another sip of the black coffee. “…what did you want to talk about?”
“Us.” He grinned.
At least I was getting used to his constant sarcasm and verbal sparring; I ignored the way his smile made my insides stir with heat and grabbed a fork. “Ah, there is no us, but do continue. I like a good fiction.”
“Ha!” He pointed his fork at me. “So, while I appreciate you letting me stay here while the band records — for free — I decided I want to help out around here.”
I stared him down and then started laughing so hard that I had tears running down my face. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! That was just not what I expected you to say! And it’s not exactly as if the house is falling apart at the seams.”
His eyes flashed. “Who the hell said anything about the house?”
I gulped. “Wh-what?”
He reached out and grabbed my chair then scooted it so close to him that his legs were nearly straddling me. I trembled a bit as he watched me closely and then confessed, “I talked with Braden last night after we all left, for at least three hours. I’ve known him for a few years — we’ve always been close — and I know the shit card you were dealt. I asked him what you needed the most, and you know what he said?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” I said, a slight shake to my voice. “Friendship?”
Drew’s grin was lethal. “Something like that…”
“Drew—”
“God, I love it when you say my name.”
“Be serious!”
“I am.” He trailed a finger down my cheek. “He said he wishes you had one week without responsibility, one week to go wild, one week where you weren’t worried about everything. And that he has no idea how to give it to you. You have money. Trust me, I know how much I paid him on his first tour, and I don’t exactly think I’m the friendship-pact sort of guy, so Braden and I made a truce. Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
“Huh?”
“He’s not going to ask. He left early this morning, and he’s going to pretend we’re playing chess and going for long walks the entire time he’s gone.”
“I take it—” I sucked in a deep breath… held it… then, “—we aren’t actually going to be playing chess?”
“Not unless you’re naked, then yes, let’s play all the chess.” He smirked, dropping his hand and leaning so close I could feel the heat from his mouth. “You need a week to be free. You never got to really date, to go skinny dipping, and tell the world to go fuck itself. You never got to experience what it was like to be bad. You were too busy being good, too busy being a mom when you were just a kid yourself.”
For some reason, my eye
s filled with tears. I looked away. “And what makes you think I would even consider any of this?”
“I’m here.” Drew moved until his lips were pressed flat against my neck. “Use me. Let yourself be bad, just once, and when I’m gone… you’ll at least have that.”
“You’re forgetting one thing.” I couldn’t focus with his mouth on my neck.
“What’s that?”
“I have a daughter who still lives here, and I have responsibilities, and you… you’re you! This would be crazy. You’re basically asking me to just…” I couldn’t even say it. “…you know?”
“No, I don’t know, because you just waved your hands at me like a lunatic.” He slowly stood and then peeled his shirt over his head.
I quickly looked away. “No, no, what are you doing? You can’t just strip in the kitchen!”
“Exactly what I’m talking about.” His dark chuckle was so not helping. “You’re stuck in a world of rules and obligations, and what makes you think I’m not lonely? That you don’t tempt me? It’s your anniversary week, but have you ever really had the anniversary of your dreams?”
I was quiet. All I could hear was the pounding of my own heart, and all I could think of was how petrified I was that all it would take would be seven days in Drew’s arms for him to break it.
“Is this the part—” I still wouldn’t look at him “—where you tell me not to fall in love with you?”
He barked out a laugh. “You already really like me. I’m even cocky enough to admit I’m convinced you may have even…” He stood behind me, his hands pressing down on my shoulders, and lowered his voice to seductive levels. “…fantasized me.”
I let out a little moan. Damn his hands! “I’m not admitting anything,” I said, unable to speak above a whisper.
“Good thing Braden was Team Drew last night after our talk then. He mentioned something about a poster hanging on your ceiling and a certain album you played over and over and over—”
“I get it,” I snapped.
“—and over…” He just wouldn’t stop. “…and over again, to help you get through those first few months of being a new mom.”
Was my son too old for me to ground? In a moment of weakness, I’d confessed that to Braden. Only because I’d been in such shock that Drew had been standing in our apartment kitchen as if he owned the place.
Surrender Page 3