My One and Only: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Second Chance Romance

by Weston Parker

  It hurt. Like hell.

  What was going on with me?

  Why the hell was Alicia walking out such a big deal to me?

  CHAPTER 24

  JARED

  Matt flicked his sweaty, light brown fringe off his forehead, raising his guitar over his head and doing a ridiculous slow turn like he had something to celebrate. My band Destitute’s bassist and one of my best friends, Matt was a laid-back guy who didn’t piss me off often.

  But I would make an exception to that rule today because his usually endearing joie de vivre was rubbing me the wrong way. Tightening my grip on the mic, I counted to ten in my head, and when that didn’t calm me down, I did something I couldn’t remember doing since I’d formed the band six years ago. I snapped at Matt.

  “Get serious, will you? Quit fucking around and focus.”

  The recording studio we were practicing in went so quiet, you’d be able to hear a pin swoosh the air while it dropped. Matt’s wide grin faltered but didn’t drop.

  Typical.

  “I’m focused. Fucking around has never interfered with that.” Waggling his brows at me, he lowered his guitar and adjusted the strap over his shoulder. “Quick question, though. Have you identified the creature that crawled up your ass and died yet?”

  Nick’s laughter pierced the air, and he lifted his fist to bump Matt’s. “Excellent question, bro.”

  Dragging his hands through his black hair, Nick, the rhythm guitarist, lifted his annoyingly bright blue eyes to mine. “What’s going on, Jared? You’ve been an edgy asshole all damn week.”

  I bristled, hating that he was right and fighting the urge to punch either Matt or Nick. Maybe both. The truth was I was becoming increasingly aggravated because of the whole Alicia thing.

  Our firecracker of a public relations girl walking out on me still had me all kinds of fucked up. In ways I hadn’t thought possible and would never admit out loud.

  She was the first girl I’d ever promised exclusivity to, as an adult at least, and the only one who’d kept me interested in sleeping with her more than one time. We weren’t dating, by any means. I didn’t do relationships, and I’d thought she was clear on that. We’d been having a good time together, having more fun than I’d had with a woman in a long time.

  Until it all went to shit a week ago.

  One shitty interview where I’d flirted with the reporter because that was my job, and Alicia changed her tune about us. Whatever we had been, she’d made it crystal clear that we were nothing but work now. Which should’ve been fine, but it wasn’t.

  The entire situation pissed me off. We had an agreement, and she broke it because of a reporter girl whose name I couldn’t even remember and a sudden turnaround on the rules of what we were to each other. I’d only been doing my damn job with that woman. I hadn’t so much as touched her. Alicia had even been the one to set up the interview.

  To make matters worse, for some reason, I couldn’t get Alicia out of my head. I wouldn’t call it being hung up on her or having to get over her since we hadn’t been a couple. It was more like I was … struggling to let go of the arrangement we’d had.

  I’d gotten used to having her around. My bed, my house, the studio. It was relaxing to know she was there to sleep with, talk to, actually sleep with. Confusing that I’d liked it as much as I hadn’t even realized I did, but it was the truth. I’d liked it.

  Now she was gone. Despite her still being our PR agent, I hadn’t seen nor heard a peep from her since it happened. And everything felt strangely empty.

  My bed, my house, the studio. All empty like there was a vacuum from her absence no one else seemed to notice. And it bothered me that I noticed. Why should I?

  Head. Fucked. Up. It was the only logical explanation.

  On top of all that, I hadn’t had sex for a week. Not since the night before she randomly flipped her lid over me doing my job and kicked me to the curb.

  I wasn’t an addict or anything, but I hadn’t gone a week without for … Christ, I couldn’t even remember how long. And yet, every time I’d had a different woman in front of me this week, it was Alicia I wanted it to be.

  Their hair wasn’t blond enough or their eyes not the right color blue. Sapphires in the sun, that was the color I was looking for. It was also the color I couldn’t find. None of the other girls I’d met compared to her, and as a result, I didn’t want any of them.

  Cue unintentional celibacy. It fucking sucked.

  Of course, when my eyes were closed and I was lying in bed, memories of being there with her plagued me. Made me as hard as fucking rock.

  I refused to get off to memories when there was so much sexy out there. But try as I might, pictures or gifs or porn, it was her who popped into my mind as soon as I hit the point of no return.

  Frustrating as hell, it was driving me crazy that she was still the only girl I was getting off to when I hadn’t seen or touched her in eight miserable days. If all was right in the world, I shouldn’t even remember what she looked like anymore.

  But all wasn’t right.

  It was very, very wrong. I found myself remembering details I was better off forgetting, and her image was coming into sharper focus in my mind as the days passed instead of fading away.

  Maddening. Fucking insanity, that was what this was.

  I wasn’t nearly as moody or full of shit as I could’ve been, though I also knew I shouldn’t be taking my recent split—because a break up implied there’d been a relationship—and celibacy out on the band, I just couldn’t help it.

  All this pent-up frustration needed somewhere to go, and the boys, well, they were there.

  Flipping Matt off, I waved my finger at Nick and got a fucking grip. “I’m not edgy. I just want to get this track done. It’s not gonna happen if you keep celebrating takes that aren’t good enough.”

  Dom, our drummer and affectionately known among Nick, Matt, and I as the original Captain Musical Purity and Perfection, cleared his throat. His serious gray eyes narrowed as he stared into the middle distance before focusing them on me. “Beg to differ, bro. That was a good take. A brilliant one. Sounds rich coming from me, but lighten up, would you?”

  “Lighten up?” I scoffed, unable to believe what I was hearing. I pointed at my chest with the mic. “Me? You’re right. That’s fucking rich coming from you.”

  “Good thing we’ve been making so much money then.” Dom quipped, uncharacteristically cheerful. He usually only got this way when things were going really well in the studio. Which they weren’t, were they?

  Fuck. No. No way I was hearing glitches in our music Dom wasn’t.

  Unless … Was I being Dom?

  An unpleasant shiver ran down my spine at the thought.

  No. Nope. No way.

  I wasn’t going there. I wasn’t being Dom. I wasn’t being uptight and finding fault when things were damn near perfect.

  “We’re not going to keep making money if we keep laying down mediocre shit. You need to have your ears cleaned? Or maybe that stick up your ass has finally punctured an eardrum.”

  “Maybe.” Dom rocked his head from side to side like he was actually considering it. Then, he shot me a shit-eating grin and flipped one of his drumsticks up so it mimicked a middle finger. “Or maybe that creature in your ass Matt mentioned is messing with your brain.”

  “Fuck you,” I growled, mentally sorting through the comebacks I knew would bait him for an argument. I could use a good fight, and he’d inadvertently put himself in the line of fire.

  Gerry cut me off as soon as I opened my mouth, the door to the studio banging open as our perpetually suited-up manager strode through it. “Enough! Caleb, Dom, Nick, Matt, take lunch. Now. Jared, sit your fucking ass down.”

  Scowling as he held the door open for the others, all the while glaring daggers at me, he waited for their grumbling to end and for them to trudge through it before he let the door swing shut. I kicked a three-legged stool with my foot and then hooked it and drag
ged it closer to sit down.

  “I’ve had enough of this mood of yours. You’ve been a terror all week, and that’s saying something considering who we’re talking about here. What’s going on with you?” Choosing not to sit down, he folded his arms and stared at me like he wished I would disappear.

  Hmmf. I would like to see how far he got my band without me in it. I was Destitute’s front man, the singer, the tool who wrote the songs. He’d be fucked without me.

  “Nothing’s going on,” I bit out. I didn’t owe him any explanations. “I’m just trying to do my job right. Not my fault the others are happy with the shit we’ve been laying down all week. You shouldn’t have sent them to lunch. We need to get this right.”

  “I’m not used to having this particular argument with you, of all people. Usually, it’s Dom I have to placate about this type of thing. Why the change?” Knowing, faded blue eyes looked out at me from his lined face. He might’ve thought he knew something, but he didn’t.

  Alicia and I had been careful. There was no way Gerry knew what’d really brought this on.

  “There’s no change,” I said flatly. “Go get them back. We need to work.”

  Relentless in his unspoken assessment of me, he searched my eyes for another minute before shaking his graying head. “No can do. Take the rest of the day off. Blow off some steam. Come back tomorrow with a clear head and without the fighting spirit.”

  “That’s a firm no.” I scoffed, standing up from my stool to face off with him.

  Gerry didn’t budge, didn’t give an inch. “You’re not getting anything done with that attitude. You’re wasting time being here. Go out, do whatever it is you need to do to clear your head. Since when do I need to convince you to go out and have some fun?”

  Fuck. I hated that he was right even more than I’d hated it when it was Nick. “Fine, I’ll go.”

  I was usually the one telling the guys they needed a break, to kick back, relax, get laid. Whatever. Novel that Gerry was using the very same tactic on me.

  But hey, I was a believer when it came to taking a step back whenever the others were stuck in a rut, giving the band the same shit I’d been dishing out this time. And I was a smart guy. Maybe it was time I took my own advice.

  First order of business then—get laid.

  Saying my goodbyes to Gerry, I stomped out of the studio and decided to go straight to a bar I knew nearby.

  Voices filtered from one of the conference rooms down the slate gray hallway, pictures of the greats who’d recorded here before us lining the walls as I made my way to the parking lot.

  It felt like an electric shock ran right through me when I came face to face with that pair of eyes I’d been searching for all week. Alicia was headed into the conference room with a bunch of suits. She sucked in a quiet breath of air when our eyes met as I walked past. Then those eyes narrowed, and she snapped the door shut without saying a word to me.

  Clearly, she was still pissed at me. Didn’t do anything to appease my anger either.

  With renewed determination to do what I had to do to let this thing between Alicia and me go, as she so obviously had, I headed to the bar.

  It was a seedy joint for this part of town, dark and filled with people who, like I would today, appreciated the value of day drinking when the day called for it. Right in the center of the darkened room was a group of girls halfway through their beers when I arrived.

  Perfect.

  I hadn’t ordered a drink yet when the first one approached me, a redhead with a rack I could bury my head in, brown eyes lit with humor and a touch of mischief. Pretty and fun, sounded like a combo I could get stuck in for the afternoon. She also looked nothing like Alicia, which was exactly what I needed.

  Striding up to me without breaking eye contact, she slid into the space beside me at the bar. “Jared Larsen, right?”

  “Right.” I couldn’t quite muster up my trademark, emperor smirk, but I thought I managed a decent one.

  A thought she confirmed when she stepped closer, doe-eyed and looking like she was about to faint. “It’s sooo good to meet you. I love you.”

  No, she didn’t. She loved our music, my persona. She didn’t know me for shit. The sour thought hit out of nowhere and shot my inclination to break my dry spell today right down. Without missing a beat, I glanced down at my watch and wrapped my knuckles on the bar.

  “Good to meet you too. Wish I could’ve stuck around, but I just remembered I have somewhere I’m supposed to be.” My own bar, at home. Where I could do my day drinking without any women around. I just wasn’t in the mood to deal another girl right now.

  It’d been a stupid idea to come here in the first place. I didn’t need to get laid. I needed my music. A beer and my baby grand piano at home.

  Now there was my perfect afternoon.

  CHAPTER 25

  ALICIA

  The door made a hollow clicking sound as I closed it behind me. There were four other people in the room with me, but having seen Jared made it feel, for just that second we'd made eye contact, like it was just of the two of us here.

  Ignoring the bolt of pain that shot through me at seeing him for the first time in a week, I inhaled a deep breath and turned to face the room. "Shall we get started?"

  Thankfully, the executives of the design team I was meeting with were discussing details of the stages and graphics for the upcoming tour and album today and didn't really need my input. I had to be there to know what was going on, but I didn't have to actively participate in the meeting.

  A good thing, since I very much doubted I’d be able to push Jared far enough from my mind now that I'd seen him to give any meaningful participation in the ideas being thrown around. For an hour, I sat in that meeting, trying and failing to keep Jared from infiltrating my thoughts.

  It was an exercise in futility, one I'd attempted several times over the course of the last week and still hadn't gotten any good at. Despite my best intentions, the insanely gorgeous, arrogant front man of the band I was representing had gotten under my skin.

  I'd promised myself when I'd started seeing him, for lack of a better term, that I wouldn't get involved. Convinced myself that just this once, I could let go and have fun with a man, that I could keep the physical and the emotional aspects of being with someone separate.

  Not surprisingly, it turned out I couldn’t.

  Logically, I knew Jared had been doing his job during his interview with that reporter, but it was what he’d said to her that'd finally opened my eyes to the fact that I couldn't keep doing what we were doing.

  Somewhere along the line, I'd gotten onto a different page than the one he was on about what was happening between us—sadly, by no fault of his. He'd been perfectly open and honest with me from the beginning about what he wanted.

  But hearing him say there was no one special in his life, that he was single and always would be was enough for me to realize that deep down inside, I really had believed that him being with me and only me meant something to him.

  It didn't. Clearly.

  He’d flirted shamelessly with the reporter and went as far as to tell the woman that if they weren't in an interview, he would have been making a run at her right then. All this was said right in front of me. I was standing less than ten feet away from him at the time. I'd known we weren't dating, knew he had hang-ups about the term, but I'd never imagined he would hit on another woman right in front of me.

  Not that it mattered really. Because hearing him so callously confirm there was no one special in his life had already forced me to face that I truly meant nothing to him. As much as I wished I could have denied it or that things were different, I couldn't live with that. I wasn't asking or expecting him to love me. I wasn't that stupid or delusional, but I also couldn't keep being with someone who didn't care about me at all.

  "Alicia?" One of the men in the meeting asked, pulling me back to the generic-looking conference room with its gray walls and round table at the studio we w
ere meeting in. At least there was a potted plant on the side table in the corner, so someone had obviously tried to give the place life at some stage.

  Unfortunately, they'd failed. Or maybe that was because my whole life felt a little more dull and drab without a certain lead singer in it who was sexy as sin and had a natural charisma most would kill for. "Mr. Adams?"

  "I asked if there was anything you would like to add." The man frowned and then smoothed his expression and folded his hands on the wooden table as he waited for my answer.

  I cleared my throat, pretending like I'd been considering his question. "There's nothing I would like to add at this time. I'll go over the designs your teams come up with once you email them to me and let you have my thoughts then, but your people know what they're doing. I have faith that they’re going to come up with something awe-inspiring for this album. If there’s nothing else, we're adjourned."

  Nods were exchanged around the table and then chairs scraped across the floor as they stood, said their goodbyes and casual chatter flowed between them as they walked out together. I sighed, collecting the insides of the folder they'd handed me.

  Walking around the table, I made sure I left the place as neat as I found it and was about to leave when a soft knock at the door had me jerking my head up. Relieved to see it was Gerry and not Jared, I cradled my folder against my chest with one arm and flicked off the lights in the conference room with the other.

  "Gerry," I said as I entered the hallway and closed the door behind me. "Was there something I could do for you?"

  "No." He smoothed his already immaculate suit and fell into step beside me. "I just wanted to let you know I've sent our boys home for the day."

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah, Jared has been out of sorts. Thought it would be best if they took the afternoon off. I checked the calendar, and I didn't see anything scheduled with you, but since you're here, I thought I should tell you they weren't going to be around this afternoon."