Rock Stars Do Like Christmas Stockings (Rock Stars Don't Like... Book 3)

by Nikki Ashton

  “I love you too, sweetheart.”

  “So, you wore the suit,” Skins deep voice rumbled breaking the emotional moment.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Tom said on a heavy sigh. “To say I wanna puke is an understatement.”

  “Skins just told me. You really are scared of Santa?” Luke asked incredulously.

  Tom nodded. “Pathetic eh?”

  Luke shook his head and held his hands up. “You’re talking to the rock star that had stage fright, there’s nothing pathetic about phobias buddy. Martha can’t drink coffee from a glass cup, it makes her feel ill; so being scared of Santa isn’t so strange.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Jake asked. “That is weird. It’s a glass mug, what’s wrong with that?”

  “Yeah but it’s still a phobia,” Luke replied. “The brain is a strange thing.”

  “You’re not fucking kidding,” Jake muttered. “So, Thomas, I guess you’re wanting some alone time with my sister then?”

  Abbie covered her face with her hands and groaned as Tom nodded vigorously.

  “Well you’d better have your Christmas present then.” Jake reached behind and pulled an envelope from his back pocket. “Here, go and enjoy yourselves.”

  Tom took the envelope and ripped it open and Abbie pushed against his side to see. They both gasped as inside were two tickets for a trip to Barcelona, leaving the next day.

  “Oh God, Jake, thank you,” Abbie cried, throwing her arms around Jake’s neck and kissing his cheek.

  “You’re welcome, but you should get going. I’ve booked you a night in a hotel at the airport, and you really ought to get your money’s worth, seeing as your flight leaves at seven in the morning.”

  It was now Tom’s turn to pull Jake into a great big bear hug.

  “Thanks, brother. I really appreciate it and I swear I will look after her.”

  “Yeah I know you will. Now go and take off that fucking suit, it’s even giving me the creeps now.”

  Tom glanced down quickly, shuddered, grabbed Abbie’s hand and pulled her away through the crowd of people amid cheers and clapping.

  “You really are a special man, you know?” Amber snuggled into Jakes side and gave a long contented sigh. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Freckles, more than you will ever know.”

  As they kissed, a huge hand landed on Jakes shoulder.

  “Jake, you fucker, you do know you’ve just sent our bass player off on holiday when we’ve got a set to play.” Skins shook his head and pursed his lips.

  “Ah,” Jake scoffed. “Who needs a bass player? We’ve got this.”

  And while they missed their friend on stage, they did have it, playing for an hour and half working the crowd into a frenzy and playing a set worthy of a huge venue, not just a marquee in Luke Mahoney’s garden.

  At the end of a long, but amazing party, with their respective children asleep in their arms, the Dirty Riches family sat together and recalled the day, especially Tom’s speech. Every one of them sported huge, but tired smiles. They were family and had each other’s backs and loved one another beyond words. They were Dirty Riches and nothing would ever come between them.

  Chapter 17 – One Year Later

  Everyone was gathered in the church overlooking Rickeby town square, and every single person was grinning widely. All of them were relaxed and happy and thankful for everything.

  Stacey cradled her sleeping son, Jackson, in her arms, as Skins entertained Ethan and Rocco by pretending to pull his finger off. Luke watched and laughed with Gigi curled up on his knee with her thumb in her mouth, while Martha and Amber chatted animatedly about Martha’s growing bump that in five months’ time would provide them with another son, Rafael, or Rafa as he had already been nick-named. Eliza and Hendrix were the only kids missing, as they were in the bridal party, but could be quite clearly heard giggling at the back of the church. Noah sat between Betty, his new wife of just a few months and his grandmother, who looked positively regal in her Jacques Vert dress and jacket. Then there was Jake, looking extremely handsome in his black suit, standing next to his equally handsome best friend, Tom. They were waiting at the altar in anticipation of Abbie’s arrival. Tom was a bag of nervous energy, continually pulling at the knot in his slim black tie, or fiddling with the lemon rose in his button hole.

  Finally, the music started, the congregation stood up, Tom took a deep breath and turned to watch his bride – he was not superstitious and this was one moment he was not going to miss.

  As Abbie walked down the aisle to Tom, in her beautiful oyster coloured fishtail gown, he couldn’t help but move towards her. He was going to collect his bride.

  “You’re supposed to wait,” she giggled as Tom stopped in front of her.

  “Couldn’t,” he said with a huge lump in his throat. “Your daughter looks beautiful, Mr Humblekirk,” Tom sighed, his eyes never leaving Abbie’s face.

  “I think you can call me Carlton now, son.”

  Tom looked at the man that was about to become his father-in-law and grinned. Carlton Humblekirk was a distinguished, silver haired man, who was mayor of his town, and Tom knew that he would never be able to call him Carlton.

  “Thank you sir,” he replied. “I’ve got her from here if that’s okay with you.”

  Carlton nodded, kissed his daughter’s cheek and passed her hand to Tom.

  “You look after my girl.”

  “Goes without saying,” Tom said and led Abbie down the aisle.

  “Well that’s a little different,” the vicar said on a deep chuckle. “Would you like to conduct the service too, Thomas.”

  Tom shook his head. “Nope you’ve got the gig, Vic. Off you go.”

  The service was conducted with lots of laughter and love and by the time they said ‘I do’, Tom was more than ready to kiss his bride.

  “You look amazing,” Tom said against Abbie’s mouth.

  “Well, I have your Christmas present on underneath my dress.”

  “Shit, you do.” Tom reached down and felt Abbie’s thigh over her dress. Result, just what he was hoping for. “Stockings?”

  Abbie nodded. “They have mistletoe on them.”

  “Shit, you know we Rock Stars just love Christmas stockings.”

  “Why do you think I’m wearing them?” Abbie ran a finger down Tom’s cheek and then kissed him long and hard.

  “I love you,” he finally whispered as everyone around them cheered and clapped. “So much.”

  “We love you too.” Abbie took hold of Tom’s hand and clutched it to her stomach.

  “Seriously,” he gasped. “You’re not joking?”

  “No baby, I’m not joking.” As tears pooled in her eyes, Abbie took a deep breath and silently thanked her mother for having an affair with Jake’s father, because if she hadn’t, Jake wouldn’t have come into her life, and then neither would Tom. “We’re going to be a family.”

  “Fuck,” Tom sighed reverently. “I love you so damn much. Thank you for loving me and for the gift growing inside you.”

  “We need to keep it quiet for now though,” Abbie said quietly. “I’m only eight weeks.”

  Tom grinned and winked. “I am sooo good at keeping secrets. No one will ever know!”

  With that Abbie burst out laughing and claimed her husband’s mouth in a kiss, knowing that life was only going to get better. For always, no matter what.

  The End.

  Roman’s Having Sex Again

  I hope you have enjoyed the Dirty Riches story and even though I think it’s reached its natural end, you never know when those boys may decide that they’ve got something else to say.

  We say goodbye to the boys, so now I’d like you to meet Roman and Summer, the characters from my next book; Roman’s Having Sex Again. Please keep turning the page for the first chapter.

  Chapter 1

  It’s days like these when I really wish I had paid more attention at school. I wish with everything leather and a six inch heel, (
sorry but I worship my shoes,) that I hadn’t sat at the back of the class with Ollie Taylor writing each other flirty notes and generally dicking about. Instead I should have positioned myself at the front with Hilary Speke, the class swot, and listened intently to understand the difference between regular and irregular verbs. Then, maybe, I might have become an international best-selling author or play write; but, I didn’t, and so my life was mapped out for the mundane. The story so far: two years of going out with Ollie, only for him to cheat on me with the aforementioned Hilary during the summer we left school - she had migrated to contact lenses on our last day of school and turned into some sort of super model - and eight years working for Barlow Building & Surveying as receptionist working up to the dizzy heights of the boss’s PA. Yep, my life was what is described as boring. To top it all off I had a boss, Roman ‘The Ego’ Hepburn, who for some reason hated me.

  “Summer!” he bellowed from his office so loudly that it rattled the pictures on the walls. “Get in here now!”

  Rolling my eyes I scraped my chair back from my desk and walked to the doorway. “Yes?”

  “I didn’t say Summer stand in the doorway, I said Summer get in here now.”

  Resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him like a toddler, instead I plastered on a smile and took one step forward so that technically I was standing in the office. Roman looked at me and then dropped his glare to my feet before shaking his head and huffing loudly.

  “Where the hell is the report for the Palisade’s development? I asked you to put it in the folder on the shared drive, and it isn’t there.”

  “It is,” I stressed moving towards his desk. I leaned forward and brushed his hand away from his computer mouse, making a couple of clicks. “There.”

  “That’s not where I asked you to put it,” Roman snatched the mouse back and clicked on the file. “That folder is called Shopping Centre. I asked you to call it Palisades.”

  I looked down on him, my eyes wide with frustration. “Seriously, how many shopping centres are we actually working on?”

  “Just do as I ask in future, and don’t back chat me.”

  I shook my head and returned to my desk leaving a grumpy boss muttering away behind me. I had no idea why I stayed working for him as we seemed to wind each other up without even trying. Mr Barlow, my previous boss, had been lovely and never raised his voice. We had a mutual respect for each other. Then a year ago, when Mr Barlow retired, Roman bought the company and my relationship with him was snarky to say the least.

  At first I thought that he was going to be easy to get along with; he insisted that I call him Roman and always asked politely when he needed anything. That all changed over the course of the first month of us working together. He gradually got more impatient and testy, until finally I came in late one morning, after a visit to the dentist. He hit the roof, bawling and shouting that he had needed me for some help with the details of a new contract; information that coincidentally I had added to the shared drive and also emailed to him. Me being me, and unable to hold my tongue, I gave it back to him with both barrels. And so a shouting match ensued. It lasted for a good ten minutes before he told me to get back to my desk and do some work. I had waited with baited breath all day for him to tell me I was fired, but he didn’t, he simply carried on the day ordering me around and being a miserable sod.

  As I continued typing up the Statement of Works Roman had given to me for another of our contracts, I tried to get my head around why he was so angry with me all the time. Fifty people worked for Roman, if you didn’t count the contractors that he used; made up of forty tradesmen and ten office staff, including me. Out of all those people I was generally the only one he didn’t get along with. When clients or other members of staff came to see him, he was Mr Charm himself. I knew that we were under pressure with the Palisades project and as I worked the closest with him I put our somewhat fraught relationship down to that.

  The Palisades project was a small, thirty unit shopping centre that our company was building and we had been experiencing some problems. The latest of which being the discovery of a Marsh Harrier’s nest in the reed beds that skirted the edges of the shopping centre on one side. Not only were Marsh Harriers a protected species, but they were rare in the North-West of England, and so the building work on that side of the site had been halted for almost three weeks; despite the fact that no Marsh Harriers had actually been spotted near the nest. This meant that we were unlikely to reach the deadline and thus incur some huge penalties. Money that could potentially ruin the company.

  As I read back over what I had just distractedly typed, the office door pushed open and a gorgeous, long legged, brunette sauntered in; Tiffany, Roman’s sister.

  “Hi Summer,” she greeted me brightly. “Is he in?”

  “Hi Tiffany,” I replied with a genuine smile. “I think he’s on the phone.” I looked down at my telephone and did indeed see the light for Roman’s extension was glowing green.

  “Okay if I sit and wait then?”

  I nodded and got up to make Tiffany her usual Green Tea that she liked when she visited her cantankerous brother. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I had to wonder how Roman and Tiffany could possibly be related. Just like Tiffany, Roman was gorgeous, and even covered with designer suits, you could tell that his body was ripped; the glimpse you got of his corded forearms when he rolled up his shirt sleeves were a tempting sight. Despite the fancy packaging though they were extremely different in temperament. Tiffany was not only beautiful, but also a lovely person. Always happy, polite and interested in how I was; she was the complete antithesis of Roman.

  “So how are things going with the Palisades?” Tiffany asked. “I know Ro is stressed about it, but he won’t share anything that’s going on.”

  I sighed and passed Tiffany her cup of tea. “Nothing has changed really, we’re still waiting to hear when we can continue building.”

  “There must be something you can do?” She smiled up at me as she took a sip of her drink.

  “Roman is looking into flipping the plan; building on the other side instead.” I wondered why he hadn’t shared any of this with his family, because Tiffany at least obviously cared.

  “And is that feasible?” she asked softly.

  “We don’t know yet.” I shrugged. “He was working with the architect yesterday and is meeting with the planning committee tomorrow.”

  At that moment Roman’s office door burst open.

  “Summer, where the hell…oh hey Tiff, I didn’t realise you were here.”

  Tiffany’s face lit up as Roman took a step towards her, her smile could have short circuited the National Grid with the brightness it when he bent down to kiss her cheek. Blimey, she really did love her big brother.

  “I wondered whether you fancied lunch,” Tiffany said.

  Roman rubbed a hand over his face and then let out a strangled grunt. “I can’t Tiff. I’m really sorry, but I need to get this plan finalised before my meeting tomorrow.”

  Her face fell briefly before she plastered on another sparkling smile. “Okay, no problem, it was a last minute idea anyway.”

  Roman’s face softened. “Sorry.”

  “Would you like me to go and get you something and bring it back here instead?” Tiffany asked as she put her cup on the edge of my desk.

  Roman hesitated momentarily before nodding his head. “Yeah that’d be great.”

  “Summer?” Tiffany beamed at me and I had to wonder how someone could be so smiley and cheerful all the time? Especially having the Troll that lived under the bridge as your sibling.

  “I’m fine thanks, Tiffany,” I replied with a smile nowhere near as glowing as hers. “I’ve got some sandwiches.”

  “Okay. Well I’ll pop back later then.”

  “Thanks Tiff, just leave whatever you get with Summer,” Roman said waving a hand in my general direction. “I’m going to be really busy.”

  “Alright, will do,” Tiffany replied a lit
tle too brightly. “See you later then, Summer.”

  Tiffany left and Roman retreated back under his bridge. I hadn’t failed to notice Tiffany’s disappointment at Roman’s brush off, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She evidently cared about him a great deal. He was her big brother and she probably idolised him. I know I did mine, Dylan, even though I didn’t wholeheartedly like how he treated his ‘girlfriends’. I sighed, who was I to criticise how Dylan conducted his love life. I might not agree with his conveyor belt of women and one night stands, but women were attracted to him like teenagers around a Primark sale, and were always desperate for more, so he must be doing something right. At least his relationships appeared to be working on some level. My own was in dire need of some life support.

  My boyfriend Alex and I had been together for just over a year, and we were already in the comfortable, no thrills, and no excitement phase. To be honest we’d probably been in that phase since our second month anniversary when after some mediocre sex Alex had let rip the biggest fart ever, and then trapped my head under the duvet. Now, I’m all for playfulness in a relationship, but it was only our second time having sex with each other. We had gone away to a hotel for the weekend as we both lived at home and had wanted somewhere quiet without interruption for our first coupling. Practically farting in my face therefore wasn’t exactly conducive to the romance of the moment. That should have told me how things were going to be between us, that and the fact that Alex liked to keep his socks on when supposedly taking me to the stars and back.

  Alex was a nice, good looking man, popular and generous but we just didn’t appear to be each other’s soul mates. He didn’t rock my world and I didn’t rock his, no matter how hard we tried. My best friend, Emma, thought I was being mean and should just finish with Alex if that was how I felt, but it was hard. I genuinely liked him, at times he made me laugh until I cried, he was extremely caring and was good company, he just didn’t make my stomach lurch or my heart flutter and he very rarely made me orgasm without some mammoth effort on both our parts.