KADE: A Second Chance Rockstar Romance

by Jane Anthony

  I’ve never been in bed with a woman when sex wasn’t involved. Not that the thought didn’t cross my mind. If she gave me the go-ahead, I would have happily pleased her several times over, but taking it off the table and just lying with her in my arms was still the best feeling I’ve had in over a year. We may no longer be in bed, but I’m still unwilling to let her go. “I don’t mind tagging along. I have nothing planned.”

  A shadow passes across her face, and for a split second, I feel like I’ve overstepped my boundaries. Considering how shell-shocked she seemed over me meeting her kid in the first place, she probably doesn’t want me tagging along on a family breakfast, but I inadvertently backed her into a corner.

  The girls go off in search of their shoes while I hover in the doorway waiting. Halloween decorations still adorn the neighborhood. Pumpkins and mums embellish all the porches, Ainsley’s included. A few houses have tombstones and various other décor meant to scare the kids as they go door to door.

  A gust of wind blows outside. A whirlwind of red and orange leaves comes to life and pirouette in the crisp, clean air. I inhale and hold it in my lungs before blowing it out. You don’t find natural beauty like this in L.A.

  Ainsley and Shay meet me outside and immediately wave to the old guy next door raking his yard. Living in California for fifteen years, and I’ve never even seen my neighbors, let alone waved to one. “Devils versus Rangers tomorrow night. I got five dollars says Rangers crush it,” the old man shouts.

  “You got yourself a bet, Walt! My money’s on the Devils! Rangers are going down!” Ainsley shouts back.

  He cackles and slaps his knee. “You see ’em wipe up the ice with Anaheim last week? Cammalleri took a stick to the face, and they still won. Game was brutal!” He stretches out the last word so it comes out more like “broo-tul.”

  The exchange between Ainsley and her neighbor continues as I stand there in awe. “Sure was! It’s that lucky number thirteen! See ya, Walt!”

  The man waves again as Ainsley climbs into the front seat of her car. I drop into the passenger side, gawking at her as if I’m seeing her for the very first time.

  “You’re an ice hockey fan?” I’m shocked. I would never have guessed that in a million years. Then again, her Dance Mom bumper sticker doesn’t exactly scream hard rock freak either, so I guess the woman is full of secrets.

  “Go Devils.” She pumps her little fist with a shy smile.

  Loud music blasts through the car when Ainsley turns the key. She turns it to a manageable volume and waits until Shay has safely buckled into her seat before backing out of the driveway.

  “Mom shouts at the TV screen. It’s so embarrassing,” Shay adds.

  The mental picture of itty-bitty Ainsley yelling at a ref for a bad call is kind of hot. It reminds me of all the times she’s yelled at me for being a cocky asshole—her words, not mine. She’s feisty. I like that. “You guys ever go to the games?”

  Ainsley whips out of the driveway, cutting the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. “Nah. Bob isn’t a fan, and Jenny prefers concerts. It’s cool, though. Whatever.”

  She pulls onto the highway and rides the bumper of a wood wall station wagon, jerks around it at high speed the second she sees an opening, then glides across all three lanes, making a hard right and following it around, gunning it through a yellow light. By the time we hit the diner, I’m gripping the door handle in a white-knuckle grasp and sweating, despite the cool November day. She whips into a parking spot and kills the engine. “You all right?”

  I rub a hand down my face and slide it to the back of my neck. “I’m happy to be alive.”

  “What do you mean?” She smiles.

  From the day I met her, I was sure she was perfect in every way. She’s smart, funny, beautiful—the list goes on and on. I spent three weeks with her day and night with no reprieve, and I never found one flaw. Until now.

  “Sweets, your driving is terrifying.”

  “Get the hell outta here!” She swings the car door open with a laugh. “I’m an awesome driver.”

  “Yeah, okay Evel Knievel.” I open the door and get out. “I’m driving us home.”

  She gives me a dismissive wave and steps out of the car. Shay runs ahead as Ainsley and I walk side by side up to the path. Clutching my heart with one hand, I hold the door open for the girls to walk through. My stay in New Jersey has been super eye opening so far, but something tells me my wild ride is just beginning.

  CHAPTER 28

  Ainsley

  EXCITEMENT ROLLS THROUGH my stomach at the sight of Kade’s rental car waiting in front of my house. Music booms from the speakers. His hands pound imaginary drums, and his deep voice bellows through the car windows. I can’t help but smile. I’m getting a private rock concert in my own driveway.

  His eyes open, and he immediately stops when he sees me watching, a stupid grin spreading across his face. Do I detect a slight flush on his cheeks? I didn’t think embarrassment was an emotion in his repertoire.

  “Don’t stop on my account. Please continue.” I laugh as he gets out.

  Pressing against me, he scoops me up in his arms and begins singing the song I’ve been avoiding for the past fifteen or so months.

  Her eyes, they cut me to the bone,

  I’m weak and dying, all alone.

  Drown me in your deep abyss,

  Save me with your poison kiss

  This time, rather than running from it, I close my eyes and feel his words wash over me. No growling and no angst-ridden cries, just the rich melodic sound of his voice, his hot breath on my ear, and the enticing smell of his cologne creating a sensory overload I can feel all the way down to my toes.

  She tears me open, loves me rotten, puts me back together new.

  Embeds herself within my heart,

  Bleeds me like a new tattoo

  I’m reminded of the first time I saw him on the stage, stalking it, owning it. His thundering howl pierced through the arena, his razor-sharp voice tore me open, leaving me bound and bloody, but wanting more.

  Always more.

  The music was nothing. It was background noise compared to the man who was pulling me in with his gravitational energy. He crouched like a tiger, pushed back a sweaty swatch of raven hair as he glanced at me from the stage, and I was done.

  He finishes his song and whispers hoarsely in my ear, “I finally got my wish.”

  “What wish is that?” I reply, threading my hands behind his back, and looking up at him in the dim light of the evening.

  “To sing you the song I wrote for you.”

  My heart jumps, and for a split second, I feel dizzy, but I hide the emotion from sight, not wanting him to know how those few little lines have affected me. “In Ainsley’s Eyes” was supposed to be his tribute to me at the festival, and if I hadn’t fled back home with my tail between my legs, I would have heard it that day.

  I slip away from his grasp and walk up to the door. Kade follows close behind, his eyes fixed on me so hard I can feel the fibers of my shirt starting to singe. We’re suspended in this weird limbo between friends and something else. In pure Kade fashion, he’s not minced words about his intentions, while I continue to walk a fine line between telling him to go home and climbing him like a tree.

  The smell of pot roast in the slow cooker wafts in from the kitchen as I open the door, filling the entire house with its savory aroma. “You cooked for me?”

  “It’s really nothing special,” I say, preparing to set the table. “When I invited you to dinner, what did you expect?”

  He smiles, taking the plates, forks, and knives from my hands and setting them out side by side on the island. “I guess I planned on taking you out.”

  We move about the kitchen in seamless synchronicity, as if this mindless routine is something we do every day, and I’m a little stunned by how relaxed it feels.

  “You eat out all the time. Thought you’d appreciate a home-cooked meal for once,” I reply as I slide
a bottle of red from the wine rack then search the drawer for a corkscrew.

  Kade’s hands land on my shoulders, and I freeze. When his thumbs begin rubbing in small, firm circles, a quiet moan escapes my lips. “I do,” he says in my ear. My head falls to the side as his lips find my neck. “But I really love eating out, too.” The innuendo doesn’t go unnoticed. Hormones stifle my breath and hold me rigid, filling my center with wetness and haunting memories of Kade’s mouth on my body.

  My palms press into the counter, leaving droplets of moisture on the cool granite. I force myself to stay upright and not melt into the awesome heat of his body. “Let me handle this, and go relax.” His hands slide off my shoulders and trail down each of my arms, leaving a field of goose bumps in their wake.

  With the bottle in one hand and corkscrew in the other, he takes a step back. My skin is instantly cold, but my blood boils like lava. I can barely hear him pouring the wine over the sound of my drumming heartbeat. On second thought, wine might be a bad idea. My head is spinning enough without it.

  I turn and catch his gaze as he pushes out the stool and pats the seat. Complying with his silent demand, I park my butt. “It’s all good, sweets. You worked. You cooked. I’ll serve.”

  His hands cup my face. The hanging pendant lights glint off his sapphire eyes, causing them to sparkle as he leans in close. I wet my lips, expecting him to press his mouth against mine, but it drops to my forehead, and he walks away to fill the serving dish on the counter.

  The breath I was holding flows from my lungs as I deflate. I’m an idiot. Less than a week ago, he kissed me and I chewed his ass out. Today, the guy barely touches me, and I’m ready to jump off the stool and mount him in my kitchen. My libido is an out of control roller coaster with Sybil at the switch.

  He comes back to the table carrying the dish and sets it down in front of me. The meat, potatoes, and vegetables are separated into neat little piles on the platter. The sight of it combined with my raging hormones causes a bubble of nervous laughter to rise up out of nowhere.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s just . . . this. All of this.” I wave my palms over the entire scene at the island. He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “I guess I just realized how insane this is. I’m being served pot roast by Kade Black. In my own house!”

  “I’m just a man, A. An ordinary guy with an extraordinary job. That’s all.” His mouth sets in a thin line.

  I cover his hand with mine, worried that I touched a nerve. “You are far more extraordinary than you think. The job is insignificant.”

  “It’s not, though. No one is interested in who I am. They only care about what I do or how I look.” He pulls his hand away and drops it to his lap. “I want you to see me, Ainsley. The real me.”

  It never occurred to me how difficult being him must be. He’s always in the public eye, forced to act a certain way because that’s what people expect. I understand what he means when he says he’s “just a man,” but he must know he’s more than that to me. “You stopped being that guy a long time ago. But I’ll never see you as ordinary. You’re too special for that.” I touch his cheek and his hand covers mine.

  His long fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling me off the stool. “I think you’re pretty special, too, sweets.”

  My body sags against his and curls into his embrace, allowing his warmth to surround me like a blanket. He feels so damn good, and I don’t want him to let go, but I pull away anyway. It’s all too much. He still overwhelms me. Over a year has passed and nothing has changed for me. The tiniest slip up and I’ll be right back there again.

  I settle into my seat, missing his strong arms already. “C’mon, let’s eat.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Kade

  I RING AINSLEY’S doorbell and my heart somersaults into my throat when she answers. A crown of curls adorns her head, and a thin white sweater clings to her figure in all the right places. I’m at a loss for words, and that never happens.

  “Is something wrong?”

  I blink and shake some blood back into my brain. “You’re gorgeous.”

  She rolls her eyes at me and clicks her tongue. “You’re crazy! Come in.” Taking my hand, she pulls me over the threshold. “I had no idea what to wear since you insist on being so secretive.”

  When I told Ainsley I had a surprise for her, she spent the next few days trying to figure out what it is. I could have just told her, but watching her sweat it out was far too much fun.

  I wait patiently while she pulls her tall black boots over her skinny jeans. The same ones she had on the night we met. Images of her wearing nothing but those boots assault my brain. Her legs wrapped so tight around me I still feel the soft leather rubbing against my ass and the heels scratching at my skin.

  “Well, now I’m almost sorry I brought you this.” I raise my hand letting the white plastic bag dangle from my fingertips. With an arched brow, she pokes a finger in the bag and peeks inside.

  The bold red fabric unfolds in her petite hands as she holds it up in front of her. “It’s a Devils Jersey.” She looks at it then back at me with pinched brows and puckered lips, trying to decipher what my unusual gift means. I can see the wheels turning in her mind. Her mouth drops into a little ‘O’ of surprise when she finally gets the hint. “Do you have tickets to the game?”

  “Sure do, babe,” I reply, my goofy grin stretched ear to ear. Her electric smile is only slightly less amusing than her squeal of delight. That’s right. She actually fucking squeals and jumps into my arms.

  This was the second best idea I ever had.

  “Excited?”

  “Ya think?” Her fingers trace the thick white lettering over the back of the Jersey as if it’s a major award.

  “I wasn’t sure who you liked, but I remembered you saying something about thirteen to your neighbor.”

  “Mike Cammalleri. Lucky number thirteen.” Her wide smile fades a bit. “This is awesome, Kade, but are you sure you want to take this risk? I mean they are going to go ballistic at The Rock when they see us.”

  “Nah, I got it covered. Vic got us seats in the box.” My fingertips touch her cheek. “Besides, anything that lights up your face like this would be worth the risk.”

  She stands on her tiptoes, pulling me down to her level and planting a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you. This means so much to me.” I hold her against me, drinking in the sweet smell of her hair against my chest and loving how small she is compared to me. I’m starved for her affection like a lovesick puppy. Lack of sex is affecting my brain. I’m starting to get all mushy.

  She slips the jersey over her head, resting a hand on her jutted out hip. The red fabric envelops her little body, hiding it from sight, but the elation on her face makes it worth it. I reply with a thumbs-up and a waggle of my eyebrows and lead her out into the cool November night.

  We get to the stadium early and park by the private VIP entrance. Once inside, a guard ushers us through a labyrinth of tunnels under the stadium to get to the luxury box to watch the game in protected solitude. Ainsley’s face is expressionless as the guard excuses himself and leaves us alone. I feel like one of those pretentious dicks who think they are above everyone and can’t mix with the common folk. That’s not me at all. Usually, I try my best to avoid situations like this altogether. “I know this isn’t how you envisioned seeing the game. It’s weird, I get it.”

  A hesitant smile spreads across her face as she looks down at the ice from the box above. “This is weird, it’s true. But it’s also pretty friggin’ amazing.” She turns to face me, her ass resting against the railing and her legs crossed at the ankles. “I love it. And I love that you put all this together just for me.”

  “I’d do anything for you.”

  It’s the truth. I wish I could tell her just how much she means to me, but no words could explain how I feel. This is the reason I can’t write. There’s just too much fighting for control inside my heart and mind, and I’m having trouble c
ategorizing it all.

  “You know,” she says, changing the subject, “the Prudential Center added a hot new 3D projection system not that long ago. Watch the ice.” The entire place goes dark, save for the glowing red pitchfork being carried by the team’s mascot. The arena’s ice suddenly transforms into a bubbling cauldron of animated lava then morphs into a shelf of cracking blue ice. High-resolution Devils highlights dance across what becomes a giant interactive movie screen. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  I nod, impressed by the game’s intro, even though I’ve never really been a big sports guy. I’m aggressive enough without adding more testosterone-fueled hobbies to the mix. That being said, I can watch Ainsley watch this shit all day.

  The players skate with grace as they chase the puck with skill and speed. The action on the ice holds her captive. “Skate! Skate! Skate!” she chants as someone from her team takes control and flies toward the goal at the end of the ice. She’s wired and animated. The player slaps the puck. The other team’s goalie dives in its way, but the tiny black dot sails into the net. A loud air horn blasts through the arena, the crowd below erupts into a discord of cheers, and Ainsley is on her feet in an instant. “Yeah!” Her fist pounds the air, and she claps her hands. “Wooo!”

  The ice clears. Neither of us bothers to acknowledge that a Black Diamond song, her song, begins playing as the players take the bench for intermission. With racing breath and shining eyes, she sits back down. Her awestruck grin turns into a scorching smile when she catches me watching. “You’re staring.”

  “Sorry. It’s just I’m still kind of in shock that you’re an ice hockey fan.”

  She takes a gulp of her Miller Light and wipes the corner of her mouth with a shrug. The irony doesn’t escape me that she chooses to follow such a hostile sport. One of the few that not only allows the players to fight but actually encourages it. Hiding inside her calm exterior is a little badass who gets off on the action.