The Rock Star’s Baby Bargain

by Lili Valente

  His shoulders bob. “I may have said hello or something, but I was warned not to bother her, so…”

  “So?” I challenge.

  His eyes flick to my face before returning to the ceiling. “So I didn’t.”

  He’s lying. I can tell.

  I’ve seen Chip in meetings with record executives, working them to get a better deal, and he struck me as an excellent liar. But he’s distracted right now. Or maybe he’s simply not bothering to put any effort into being convincing.

  Maybe he got what he wanted from this trip—Colette out of the picture and me in the studio, writing the kind of music he thinks I should write—and he sees no reason to keep up the concerned collaborator act.

  Either way, I have to find Colette. She can’t have gone far. She doesn’t have a car, and there aren’t any taxis in Little River. There was a bus stop by the post office, but surely, the buses have stopped running for the day, and she doesn’t know anyone in town other than Nancy and Jed.

  I head for the back door, deciding Nancy is the best place to start looking for information.

  “Where are you going?” Chip asks, sounding alarmed.

  “To talk to the caretakers,” I say, adding as an afterthought, “to see if they can give us any more information about the noises in the attic.”

  “Good,” Chip says, his shoulders relaxing. “I’ll stand guard here. Make sure no one tries to sneak out. I wouldn’t put it past these people to have some kind of alert system in place to warn this guy to bail when people get suspicious.”

  I make a vague sound of agreement. I’m positive Chip is being paranoid, but I don’t want him to know that I’m going after Colette. He would try to stop me, I’m sure, and even though I wouldn’t let him, I’d rather not be slowed down by a pointless argument.

  Outside, the evening air is cool, and the faint bluish-pink glow of dusk hangs in the air. The first stars are flickering to life overhead, and soon, the world will be dark in a way it never gets in the city. And while that’s amazing for stargazing, at the moment, it’s more scary than anything.

  If Colette decided to take the trail into town, there’s no way she’ll be able to get there before night falls. And while I’m not too terribly worried about bears or wolves or the other predators prowling the hills this early in the evening, I am worried about her wandering off the trail and getting lost.

  Or running into a human threat.

  A group of sketchy-looking men was hanging out by the general store in town today, drinking beer in the back of a pickup truck and shooting Colette the kind of looks that made me want to whisk her away to a tower somewhere, far out of harm’s reach.

  Or punch the men in the face.

  This punch-happy side of me is new, but it doesn’t scare me. It’s part of how I feel about Colette. Protecting the person you love is second nature—at least for me—and I’m not going to be able to calm down until I know she’s safe.

  By the time I circle the pool house and head for the light of Jed and Nancy’s cottage, I’m running full tilt through the grass. I have to find out where Colette’s gone. Nothing else matters right now—not Chip, not the music, not anything but getting to my girl and letting her know how much I need her to stay.

  Hopefully forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Colette

  My new room is unexpectedly delightful, with a kitchenette decorated with cheerful red-and-white gingham accents, a fluffy bed sporting decorative pillows that read “Her Buck” and “His Doe,” and a picture on the wall showcasing a huge pair of antlers with lettering underneath that insists, “Size Matters.”

  A white desk by the window overlooks the lodge’s back lawn, granting a view of the squirrels having a final frolic through the trees as the sun goes down.

  After I drop my suitcase in the closet, I sit and watch them, wondering why I’ve never noticed how insane squirrels were before.

  One of them spends a solid ten minutes dragging itself on its belly across a wooden picnic table, which must give it dreadfully uncomfortable splinters in private squirrel places. Another grooms its tail maniacally between lifting tiny paws to its face and inhaling deeply of its own, apparently intoxicating, squirrel scent.

  Their antics keep me entertained for nearly an hour, but as soon as the last of the twilight glow fades, the critters head to their nests for the night, and I’m left staring at my own reflection in the glass.

  I look like hell.

  My eyes are haunted, and my hair is a mess from the day spent out in the wind. I’m also still covered in trail dust and in dire need of a shower.

  My room has a lovely shower, complete with tiny evergreen-scented soaps that leave a note of Christmas lingering in the air. I should shower, get in my pajamas, and zone out with some trashy reality television to keep my mind off my troubles.

  Instead, I sit frozen at the desk, asking my reflection questions it can’t answer.

  If this is the right call, why do I feel so awful?

  Is there a chance I’ve made a horrible mistake?

  Maybe I could have given up my homebody ways for a shot at something more with Zack. Maybe I could have found a way to fit into his world, to learn to love life on the road and exploring a new city every night. As long as I was with him, maybe we could have made it work.

  Deep down, a quiet voice assures me you can’t change who you are, no matter how much you love someone, but another voice stubbornly insists that love can conquer any obstacle.

  Love is powerful.

  But so is fear.

  Fear and love, love and fear… I’ve spent my whole life dancing with one or the other, pulled in opposite directions. I want to believe that love is all you need, but I know better. No matter how much I loved my mother, it was never enough. She needed a kind of love I couldn’t provide.

  She needed to love herself, but she never learned how. From the outside looking in, it didn’t seem like she even tried. She was too busy running herself ragged, looking for love in a needle or a man or possessions we could never afford.

  I made a promise a long time ago that I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I would honor my needs, nurture my spirit, and give myself all the love my mother hadn’t. I knew it was the only way to be the kind of person I wanted to be. You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you can’t make other people feel loved if you don’t love yourself.

  All I’ve ever wanted is to have a happy home, a partner I adore, and ultimately, children who know they are treasured, wanted, and supported. But maybe I’ve become too rigid in my quest to make that dream come true. Maybe I need to be open to happily ever after arriving in different packaging than I expected.

  I’m still deep in the question cave, breaking down every part of the equation but unable to figure out what to do with the pieces, when there’s a soft knock on the door.

  Instantly, I know Jed sold me out and told Zack where to find me.

  And I couldn’t be happier. Even an hour out of sync with him is too long.

  Bolting from my chair, I cross the room and throw open the door, hurling myself into his arms. He catches me with a grunt, squeezing me tight. “I’m sorry,” I murmur into his neck, burrowing my face closer to his skin. “I shouldn’t have left. I’m just so confused.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he says, hugging me hard enough to lift me off my feet. “It’s okay.”

  I swallow, clinging to him as he steps through the door and closes it behind us. “But it’s not,” I say to his neck again because his neck is so much easier than his see-through-me gaze. “I’m so scared.”

  “What are you scared of, baby?” he asks, the affection in his tone making the back of my eyes sting.

  “That I’ll ruin everything for you. Or for me. That there’s no way forward without someone letting go of a dream.”

  “I have lots of dreams. Some more important than others.” He sets me on my feet and pulls back, cupping my face in his hands. “And the dream of you and me…”
When his tongue slips out across his lips, I want to kiss him, but I need to hear what he’s about to say even more. “I know this is probably going to sound crazy. I’ve been holding back, trying to wait long enough to have a shot at you taking me seriously, but…” He searches my gaze while I hold my breath, praying this is going where I think it’s going. “But I’m so in love with you, Cee. I don’t just want a baby with you. I want a life, a family, and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

  I blink back tears and shake my head. “No, you won’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen. I love you too much to ask you to turn your back on your music and your fans and—”

  “I won’t have to do that,” he cuts in with a smile. “I can find a way to reach them from Hidden Kill Bay. I don’t have to tour all the time.”

  “But that’s how musicians make money now,” I counter, forcing myself to be realistic, no matter how much I want to drag him to the bed and show him how thrilled I am to be his dream all night long. “I know streaming services and pirating have cut into artists’ ability to make a living. And record sales aren’t anything close to what they used to be and no one—”

  “All of that is true,” he says, still grinning like there isn’t a cloud on our horizon as he links his hands together at the small of my back, making my nipples tighten as they brush against his chest. “But I have money. A lot of money. Profit isn’t my top priority right now. If it were, I wouldn’t have left a successful band that does very well for itself. I just want to make music I believe in. Music that’s uniquely mine and nobody else’s.”

  “And to share it with other people,” I challenge. “That’s a part of it, you know it is. It’s like the tree in the forest. If an album drops and no one listens, did the album drop at all?”

  His expression sobers. “The album dropped. The music is still there, and no one can take that away. But, yes, sharing the music is part of the process, and I will have to do some touring if I want people to keep listening. But you and the baby can come with me. We’ll get two buses. One for me, you, and the kids. One for the band and the full-time roadies.”

  “The kids,” I echo, throat so tight I can barely get the words out. “That sounds…” I swallow hard. “You have no idea how wonderful that sounds, but what if it isn’t that easy? What if being on the road with young children is stressful and exhausting? What if I’m unhappy and you’re unhappy, and our only choice is to live separate lives while you’re on tour?”

  “Then I’ll stop touring,” he says, meeting my doubtful gaze with a certain one. “But I think that’s a decision that can wait until we get to that bridge, don’t you? There’s no need to borrow trouble from tomorrow, not when today is so good.” He beams down at me. “I love you, and you love me. How amazing is that?”

  I bite my bottom lip, but Zack shakes his head. “No. This isn’t the time to stress.” Lifting a hand, he gently tugs my lip from between my teeth, the feel of his guitar string-calloused fingers on my mouth making my pulse beat faster. “Now is the time to celebrate,” he adds in a deeper voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more than I do right now. I want to be inside you so badly, Cee.”

  He shifts his hips forward, pressing his erection against my hip. Instantly, my blood rushes faster and tingles race across my skin, but I refuse to let my body call the shots right now. It’s too dangerous.

  “We should use a condom,” I say as he backs me toward the bed. “We’re not finished with this conversation. We shouldn’t risk getting pregnant again until we are.”

  He steps away from me so fast that I feel the loss of his heat like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

  “Fine, then we’ll finish the conversation first.” His gaze rakes up and down my body, making my nipples bead even tighter beneath my tee shirt. “Then I’m going to undress you with my teeth, kiss every irresistible inch of you, and take you bare. I haven’t come this far to turn back now, beautiful. I’m coming inside you tonight. So deep inside you.”

  My breath shudders out, and the ache between my legs intensifies until the hunger almost hurts. “That’s not playing fair.”

  “I’m not here to play games. I’m here to convince you it’s over.”

  I blink, confused.

  “Your search for the father of your children,” he adds, making my heart flutter again. “It’s going to be me, whether we make them together or end up adopting or both. I’m all in. I want a family with you.”

  Tears fill my eyes, blurring his handsome face as he steps closer. “I want that, too, but—”

  “No buts,” he says, and then he kisses me, his lips warm and gentle against mine, coaxing, inviting, until I forget everything but how good it feels to be this close to him.

  Until I know that everything is going to be okay.

  Until there isn’t a doubt in my mind that we’ll find our way.

  With love like this, how can we go wrong?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Zack

  I’m so relieved I’m vibrating with it, my arms trembling as I guide Colette to the bed. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, she pulls her lips from mine. As her palms skim up my arms to my shoulders, she whispers, “You’re shaking.”

  “I was scared,” I confess, knowing I don’t have to hide from her anymore, and that I never will again. “When I realized you were gone… I haven’t been that scared in a long time.”

  She brushes my hair from my forehead with gentle hands. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I say. “Just don’t leave without saying goodbye again.”

  Emotion glows behind her eyes. “How about I just never leave again? Ever. Would that work?”

  My lips curve even as my throat goes tight, making my voice husky as I agree, “That sounds perfect.” I lower my lips to hers, and I kiss her with all the love in my heart, so damned grateful that I don’t have to hide or downplay what I feel for her anymore.

  I love her, and I’m going to make sure she knows it, tonight and every night that I’m lucky enough to have her in my life.

  We fall back onto the bed. Capturing her wrists, I draw them over her head, pinning them to the mattress with one hand as I trail kisses down her neck, tasting the sweet salt of her skin.

  “I should shower first,” she says, shivering beneath me as I cup her breast through her shirt. “I’m filthy.”

  “I like you filthy.” I move lower, nipping at her nipple through the thin fabric, loving the way she gasps and arches closer to my mouth as my other hand pops the button at the top of her shorts. “I love it when you tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you.”

  “I meant literally filthy,” she says, moaning as I slide my hand into her panties, finding where she’s already wet for me. Damn, I love that. So fucking much. “Not metaphorically. I’m still in my hiking clothes.”

  “Not for long,” I promise, rubbing her clit in firm circles until she’s bucking into my touch before pulling my hand away.

  I reach for the bottom of her T-shirt while she fumbles at the button of my jeans. In seconds, we’re rid of every scrap of clothing between us, and we come back together with a relieved sigh. Our lips meet in a kiss that’s urgent and demanding with a hunger boiling so close to the surface that I know this isn’t going to last as long as I’d like.

  But that’s all right.

  There’s always tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.

  Because she’s mine and I’m hers, and we’re never going to say goodbye.

  “Oh yes, please,” she says as I nudge her thighs farther apart with my knee and press my aching cock between her legs, my head spinning as her wetness kisses my skin. “Inside me. Now.”

  “Always,” I promise as I glide into her welcoming body, groaning as she wraps her legs around my hips and arches closer, taking every inch.

  We begin to move together, finding that perfect rhythm, the one that brings us closer with every thrust, a
s in sync as we’ve been since the first time we touched. And as she comes beneath me, her body gripping me tight, triggering a release so intense I’m suddenly in orbit, high in the starry sky above, I make a silent promise to myself.

  I will never let a day go by without telling her how special she is, how much she means to me, and how grateful I am to be the man in her bed and in her heart.

  “Especially your bed,” I murmur against her lips as we catch our breath after, with my softening length still deep inside the only place I want to be.

  “What’s that?” she asks, fingers skimming up and down my back.

  “Just thinking about how lucky I am to be here with you.”

  “I think I’m the lucky one.” She turns her head, pressing a kiss to my arm.

  “I guess we can both be lucky.”

  “No,” she says, kissing me again with her eyes closed. “A winner must be declared. We’ll settle this in the way of my people. Co-ed naked shower wrestling to the death. It’s the only way.”

  Grinning, I ask, “Oh, yeah? Does it have to be to the death?”

  “Yes, but just the little death.” Her eyes flutter open, burning into mine as she adds, “That’s what the French call orgasm, la petite mort.”

  I shiver, and my cock twitches inside her. “Fuck. Do you speak French?”

  “Oui, je parle français. Ma grand-mère m'a appris,” she says in an accent so sexy I lose all sense of reason.

  The next thing I know, I’m taking her in the shower while she laughs and says more sexy-as-hell things in that accent, and I thank God for the French language and sex and love and this woman.

  Most especially this woman.

  She’s the fucking best.

  Chapter Twenty-Five