Ethan let out a low whistle. “I thought you said it was a cabin. Unless, of course, you were referring to one of those smaller ones there.”
She gave him a playful shove and found herself chuckling. “You should see the beach house in the Hamptons.”
“I have no room to talk. You should see my family’s ‘cabin’ on Geneva Lake. It had to accommodate all nine of us growing up.”
“This was actually one of my great-grandfather’s first hotels. When the area fell out of fashion in the seventies, we turned it into a vacation home.”
Ethan parked the SUV behind the other cars and turned to her. “Ready?”
“No,” she whimpered. She doubted she’d ever be ready to deal with her father.
“Come on, Bec, you’re strong enough to get through this. I’ll be on my best behavior and charm the socks off them.”
She wished she could agree with him. She wasn’t sure which one of them her father would attack first. At least Ethan had toned the rocker look down for the weekend. The cream-colored fisherman’s sweater he wore looked like something from an L.L. Bean catalog—perfect for a rustic weekend in the mountains. It covered his tattoos, and even though he hadn’t shaved this morning, his stubble appeared neatly groomed.
But he wore his favorite boots, much to her delight. She was grateful he was willing to fit in with her preppy family, but still retain part of himself.
She gathered her courage along with her weekend bag and nodded. “Let’s go.”
The warm scents of roasted turkey and maple-glazed sweet potatoes greeted her when she opened the front door. She breathed it in and focused on how tasty the meal would be instead of how torturous. “Hello?”
Mrs. Cordero, her parents’ housekeeper, appeared in the foyer with outstretched arms. “Rebecca, you made it.” She pulled her into a vicious hug that expelled the air from her lungs. “How are you, mai?”
Becca unraveled her scarf while she caught her breath. “Good, and you?”
“I can’t complain.” She took Becca’s coat and turned to Ethan. “And who is this? ¡Estás bueno!”
Ethan grinned at the middle-aged Puerto Rican woman batting her eyelashes at him and flirted right back. “You first, bonita.”
Mrs. Cordero’s plump cheeks reddened. She pulled Becca aside and whispered, “I like him already. You should keep him.”
Becca chuckled. “I think I might.”
It was becoming easier and easier to fall in love with Ethan Kelly. She couldn’t help but grin like a goofy, lovestruck teenager whenever she thought of him. He could be moody and reserved at times, but he was always there when she needed him. Thoughtful and intelligent, he knew how to soothe her soul when it was troubled and how to make her body writhe with pleasure. But most important, he made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world whenever he looked at her.
“Ethan, this is Mrs. Cordero. She’s been with my family as long as I can remember. Mami, this is my boyfriend, Ethan.”
His chest puffed up when she introduced him. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cordero.”
“Oh, yes, I like him.” She giggled behind her hand before waving for them to follow her. “You’re just in time for dinner.”
Mrs. Cordero ran the vacation home the same way she did her parents’ home in Manhattan—with well-ordered discipline tempered by her jovial mood. It was no surprise at all to find her orchestrating the holiday dinner down to the precise second Becca’s father requested. When they arrived in the oversized dining room, two maids were already placing the appetizers in front of the guests. She left Becca and Ethan to give the maids a few more orders in Spanish before chasing them back into the kitchen ahead of her.
The warm, affectionate welcome of the housekeeper contrasted sharply with the cool, dissecting one she received from her family. Her father sat at the head of the table, his hard blue-green gaze picking her apart before shifting to Ethan. The rest of the family—aunts, uncles, cousins—sat quietly in the seats as though they were waiting for permission to eat.
Claire stood from her place on the opposite end of the table and gave Becca a slight hug. “Becca, I’m so glad you and your boyfriend made it. We were getting worried.”
“Yes, you’re three minutes late, Rebecca,” her father said in a steely voice. “You and your guest are holding up dinner.”
Two faults already, and I haven’t even sat down. She forced a genteel smile on her face and followed Claire to the two empty seats at the table.
Thankfully, Ethan spoke up. “Sorry about that, Mr. Shore. The roads were getting a bit dodgy with all the snow, and I wanted to be extra careful with Becca in the car.”
Claire tilted her head in a silent “Aw,” but her father remained unmoved. He stabbed his fork into the corn fritters, his attention completely fixed on Ethan. “So are you normally a reckless driver when my daughter’s with you?”
Oh, shit! I can just see Daddy losing it when Ethan tells him about his motorcycle.
But Ethan remained unfazed by her father’s accusation. “Not at all. In fact, I don’t even own a car. Don’t need one in the city.”
“So you’re subjecting her to riding in subways?”
Becca curled her fingers around her fork and bit back the snarky response that sat poised on her tongue. If her father hadn’t cut her off, she wouldn’t be riding in subways to begin with.
“If she wants to.” Ethan dug into his fritter and finished chewing before continuing. “I’ve been known to spring for a cab when she doesn’t.”
His nonchalant handling of her father’s interrogation amazed her, but she wondered how much longer he’d be able to keep it up. She’d seen him snap when pushed too far, and she didn’t want that to happen here. “Ethan is every bit a gentleman,” she told her father and prayed that would be the end of it.
But just to be safe, she sent a silent plea to her brother to help her out.
Jacob gave her the slightest of nods. “So, Ethan, how long have you been dating my sister?”
“Since around Rosh Hashanah.” He turned to her, desire flaring in his eyes. “It’s been a great two months.”
Her cheeks grew warm, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Agreed.”
“You’re Jewish?” Jacob continued.
“No, I’m not, but Becca was kind enough to invite me to dinner for the holiday and explain some of the customs to me.”
Her father’s nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth, but Claire cut him off before he could speak. “And what did you think of them?”
“They were sweet—literally and figuratively.”
His joke made her uncle laugh, and the rest of the dinner guests eased into the meal.
Everyone, that was, except Becca and her father.
She kept her head low, her attention focused on her plate so she wouldn’t make some gaffe at the table. While Claire directed the conversation around what Jacob and her cousins were doing, Becca’s father continued to openly glare at Ethan like he was some gigolo who’d defiled his daughter.
They made it safely through the pear and walnut salad and the butternut squash bisque, but when the main course came out, Ethan pushed up the sleeves of his sweater to reveal his tattooed arms.
Her father’s eyes bugged out. It was just the opportunity he was looking for to resume his interrogation. “So, Ethan, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a musician,” he replied before stuffing a forkful of turkey in his mouth.
Becca closed her eyes and prayed her father would stop, even though she knew better. Ethan’s occupation had rekindled her father’s opinion that she was nothing more than a fuck-up and added fuel to the fire.
“Musician, huh?” Her father arched one brow, his fork still hovering over his plate. “Isn’t that just another term for ‘unemployed’?”
“Daddy!” She’d had
enough of this. “Will you just stop?”
Ethan placed his hand over hers, calming her. “It’s okay, Bec. I’m used to people assuming that.” Then he turned to her father. “I was in a band, but we broke up, and I’m pursuing a solo effort now.”
“Which means you’re between jobs.” Her father sliced his meat with more force than necessary. “I bet you think you’re lucky to have found my daughter.”
“I’m thankful for every day I’ve known her,” he replied, giving her a smile that made her insides turn to goo.
Every female at the table appeared to be affected in a similar fashion, but her father continued to massacre his meal, his eyes never looking up from his plate. He gripped the knife like he wanted to stab someone, not cut the tender turkey breast.
“Yeah, I bet you are,” her father grumbled. “But has she told you that she won’t come into her trust fund until she’s twenty-five? And even then, I might have the lawyers change her access to it so she doesn’t blow it all on drugs.”
Her appetite vanished, leaving behind a ball of fire that churned in the pit of her stomach. She was over being scared of her father. Now she was just plain pissed off. She dropped her knife and fork on her plate with a clatter, gaining her father’s attention. “Daddy, that’s enough.”
“I’m only looking out for you, Becca. It’s not like you have the best track record when it comes to making decisions.”
“I know. You never let me forget I’m just like my mother.” She tossed her napkin on her plate and stood up. “But as far as I’m concerned, the worst decision my mother ever made was marrying you.”
The table fell silent, everyone watching the staring match between her and her father, waiting to see which one would yield first.
“Sit down, Rebecca, and quit making a scene,” he ordered.
“I knew this was a mistake.” She kicked her chair back and turned around. “I’m done.”
She made for the front door as quickly as she could without running, never once looking over her shoulder to see if anyone followed. She’d tried to make amends with her father, but it was very clear that she’d never please him.
The quicker she could get back to Manhattan, the better.
***
Ethan observed Becca’s mounting frustration all during the meal, so it was no surprise when she finally blew up. And this time, he didn’t stop her. She needed to stand up to him, to say the things she said, if only to get them out of her system. Once she let go of the anger, it would be easier to move forward.
Her father regarded him with cold, narrowed eyes. “You’d better leave before she drives off without you.”
“Doubt it.” Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys.
“Then let me make this clear,” Becca’s father replied, his voice hard and even. “I know you’re just after her money, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’ll never see a cent of it.”
“I’m perfectly fine with that, Mr. Shore.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, a gesture to show that he wasn’t going anywhere. “But just to clarify a few things—I don’t need her money. I have plenty of my own.”
He gulped back his hesitance and ignored the familiar tingle along his left arm. He was about to blow his cover for her. “Becca’s been wonderful about keeping my identity under wraps, but in this instance, I feel it’s necessary to tell you everything about me. My name is Ethan Kelly, and I was the lead singer of Ravinia’s Rejects.”
“No way,” her brother said, his eyes growing wider. “You guys are awesome.”
“Thanks, man.” He gave Jacob a grin before he turned back to her father. “As your son can tell you, we were doing pretty well before we lost our lead guitarist over the summer. Platinum records. World tours. Hell, the licensing alone for a fifteen second clip of one of our songs for a commercial was well into seven figures.”
Her father’s jaw slackened, but Ethan wasn’t finished yet. If he was going to drop a bomb on her family, he might as well make sure it was enough to shake her father up.
“Furthermore, Mr. Shore, I have a trust fund of my own, not that I need it. My father was Sean Kelly of Kelly Properties in Chicago. I’m sure you’ve heard of him, too. He was the one who outbid you for that Michigan Avenue property a few years ago.”
Becca’s father remained statue still, the only perceptible movement being the subtle flare of his nostrils. He was a man who wasn’t used to having his authority challenged, but Ethan wasn’t ready to yield.
Now was the time to hammer the message home. “So you see, I’m not with Becca because of her money. I’m with her because of the amazing person she is. She was there for me when I was coming to grips with the loss of my bandmate and best friend and she helped me get my life back on track. And for that, I’ll be eternally in her debt.”
He stood up, slow and easy, still very much in control of the situation. “Everyone sees Becca as the person she was three years ago, and very few are ready to accept that she’s grown and changed since then. They keep bringing up her past. But the thing is, we all make mistakes. It’s what we learn from them that matters. I’m the one who convinced her to come today, and I hope I didn’t make a mistake there.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on her and see if I can convince her to come back to the table.”
Ethan walked away to silence, but he held his head up a bit higher than usual. After months of hiding and doing everything he could to not be recognized, he’d finally come around to telling strangers who he was and taking credit for his accomplishments. It filled him with a sense of pride he hadn’t had since the early days of his career.
But he’d have time to revel in that discovery later. Right now, he needed to find Becca and convince her to give her father one more chance. It was one thing to avoid personal demons. It was another to completely squash them. He’d learned that with his music and felt freer than ever. Now he needed to help Becca reach that same level of liberation.
He ran into Mrs. Cordero in the foyer. “Where’s Becca?”
“Outside, by the woodpile.” She handed Ethan his coat. “You’re going to need this.”
“Thanks.” He slipped the coat on.
“You are most welcome.” She reached up and pinched his cheek. “I knew I liked you.”
He choked back a laugh. How many guests to the Shore home got a pinch from the housekeeper? But at least one person approved of him dating Becca.
The snow was coming down even harder than before, blurring the world in white. Fat, heavy flakes accumulated on his shoulders, his hair, his eyelashes. A good two inches had fallen since they’d arrived, and with night approaching, returning to Manhattan was out of the question. They were stuck there for the night.
Slow, rhythmic thunks harmonized with feminine grunts on the other side of the house. He followed it until he found Becca chopping wood. She drove the blade of the ax into a log, splitting it within a few blows, and replaced it with a new log.
He came up behind her and grabbed the ax when she lifted it over her shoulder. “Trying to be a lumberjack?”
She let go of the handle and spun around. “You idiot. You could’ve been hurt.”
“From this?” He held the ax like a guitar and pretended to play the blade.
He caught a hint of a smile on her face before she looked down and tried to pry the ax from his hands. “Give it back. I still need to work off some frustration.”
“How about we dance with it?” He twisted the handle and twirled her around so she was pinned against him. The exercise had heightened the scent of her perfume, and he lowered his nose to the place behind her ear to breathe it in. He swayed his hips from side to side, guiding hers to match his movements in a slow foxtrot. “See? This is much nicer than chopping wood.”
She stiffened and snatched the ax from him. “I need t
o split a few more logs.”
He retreated out of range and leaned against the house with his hands in his pockets while she resumed chopping the wood. “You should come back inside. It’s freezing out here.”
“I’m staying plenty warm from this.” She hefted the blade over her shoulder and brought it down with bone-chilling accuracy.
“But they’ll be serving dessert soon.”
She paused, and he hoped her love of sweets might entice her to return to her family. Then she shook her head. “Nope. If he’s going to be a complete asshole, then I won’t enjoy it.”
“Too bad you didn’t stick around. I think I might have convinced him I wasn’t some loser looking for a piggy bank.”
That made her stop. The ax fell from her hands as she turned to him. “What did you do?”
“I told him who I was.” He came closer until his ice-cold nose was inches from her red one. “And I even threw in a little smackdown of my own thanks to a little tip from my brother.”
“But I thought you didn’t want people to know who you were.”
“I don’t, but in this case, I made an exception.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, tipping her head back so she looked up at him. “You’re worth it.”
Her face lit up just before he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was slow and easy, but it didn’t lack for passion. He grew harder with each passing second, and he was forced to end it before he was tempted to drag her to the nearest bed.
“Ethan, I—” She shivered and snuggled closer to him, tucking her head under his chin. “You’re absolutely wonderful—do you know that?”
“You’re pretty awesome yourself.” And I’m one lucky bastard to have you. “So, how about dessert?”
She pulled back, her eyes clouded with doubt. “Maybe we can take it to go.”
His shoulders slumped in defeat. He couldn’t convince her to return to the table, but he still had all weekend to help her reconcile with her father. “Where?”
“That bungalow over there.” She wriggled against him, sparking his desire in a way that demanded satisfaction. “I asked to stay there so you could fuck me as hard as you wanted, and no one would hear us.”
Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians Page 105