by Leigh Morgan
Rhia stopped her when she heard Hunter’s breath catch. “Hunter your father can be, well, difficult. But he loves you.” Hunter’s sound of utter disbelief threw Rhia for a moment. Whatever William said it must have been pretty bad.
Stupid, stupid man.
“You can say that again.” Hunter retorted.
She was talking to herself again, out loud. Damn she was losing it. It was time to regroup. “Your father may be stupid on occasion, but he does love you. You’ll figure that out once some of your hurt goes away. I don’t want to talk about your father, I want to talk about what’s bothering you.”
Here it goes, Rhia thought. “I’m not crazy about the idea of you having sex, but you’re an adult and that’s your decision to make. It probably wasn’t a good idea to bring a man back to your hotel room with your father next door, but he’ll get over it.” There. She’d said it. And she fervently hoped she wasn’t ever going to have to talk about sex with her daughter again, especially not while her teenaged son stared at her open mouthed.
“Mom.” Hunter said waiting for Rhia to focus on her. “I didn’t bring a man back to my hotel room. Dad caught me in bed with a woman.”
Rhia felt three sets of eyes boring into her waiting for her response.
Her eyebrows shot up before she could control her reaction. She forced them back downward.
“Oh.” Rhia said, trying to swallow. She took a sip of coffee, trying to control the slight trembling in her hands. Ram saved her.
“Is she hot?” He asked, already knowing the response. Ben’s people forwarded a detailed physical description of the woman and she’d already been run through NCIC, one of the national crime data bases, courtesy of Stark and his contacts.
Hunter smiled at him, relieved. “Yea. She’s hot.”
“You going to see her again?” He wanted to put Hunter at ease and give Rhia a chance for the shock to wear off.
“I’ve got her number. She’s studying for her masters in oceanography.”
The casualness of the conversation zapped Rhia out of her stupor. She got up and gave her daughter a hug. Hunter stood, meeting her half way. Her daughter was almost a head taller than she was so it felt more like she was receiving comfort instead of giving it, and maybe she was.
“I love you baby. You had me worried though. I thought you were going to tell me something really terrible.”
“What would be ‘really terrible’ mom?” Came Hunter’s amused reply.
“Telling me you were quitting school to become a roadie for my head-banger rocker husband. That would be really terrible.” Hunter laughed.
Ram pulled her away from Hunter before he had two crying women on his hands. “Who you calling a ‘head-banger’, woman?” Ram asked throwing her over his shoulder and giving her bottom a swat.
“Forgive us kidlings. I need to go teach your mother respect for her lord and master.” He grinned at them and winked at Hunter. “It’s good to have you back home, honey.”
“Ramsey Macleod, put me down. This instant. I’m not done...” Rhia sputtered.
“Oh yes you are.” He retorted, whistling all the way to their room.
When he reached their room Ram set his still sputtering wife in front of him, enjoying the slide of her body against his. When she opened her mouth, to rail at him no doubt, he kissed her. He didn’t stop until she swayed against him and kissed him back.
He pulled away. “Calmer now?”
She nodded, responding to the tenderness in his voice.
“You handled that well. It took a lot of courage for Hunter to face you after what happened with Wainwright. You raised two great kids. They’re smart, sensitive and courageous. Just like you.”
Rhia felt tears well in her eyes. She was still in shock, but as she played moments and events back in her head, she really ought to have figured it out. Hunter always had friends who were boys. But they were just friends. Hunter didn’t talk about boys the way other girls her age did. When Rhia called the dorms, even late at night, there was always another girl in Hunter’s room. Had she been so wrapped up in her own failing relationship that she’d ignored her daughter?
“Don’t.” Ram ordered, not unkindly.
“Don’t what?”
“You were thinking about all the ways you failed as a parent. All the signs you didn’t see. Aren’t you.”
Rhia nodded, looking more dejected than Ram had ever seen her.
“Well don’t. That kind of thinking will lead you nowhere but down.” Ram brushed a lone tear from Rhia’s cheek. “This isn’t about you, Rhiannon. This is about Hunter. She needs your support. She needs to know she has her family’s acceptance. If she has that, then the rest will fall into place.”
Rhia looked up at him and Ram knew he’d gotten through. She’d been shocked, but she was dealing with it, and he was proud of her.
“How did you get to be so smart?”
“I’ve seen gay friends get torn up by their families. It isn’t pretty. Others, the ones with families who don’t get all weirded out, they have the emotional fortitude to make it through all the crap society dishes out.” Ram didn’t mean to sound bitter, but he’d seen a good man die because his family failed him. No matter what happened he was going to be there for Hunter for the rest of her life.
“She just surprised me Ram. That’s all. I love my girl, I’ll do whatever I can to help her. I’ll try not to embarrass her too much, but I am going to drag out her baby pictures when she brings a girlfriend home.”
Ram kissed her tenderly then unbuttoned her blouse. “Now about that ‘head-banging’ comment of yours. I’ve got a little head that wants to bang.”
He didn’t have to ask twice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“You’re gay, aren’t you?”
Ben swallowed a mouthful of hot coffee, feeling it scald the back of his throat all the way down. Becca was lucky she wasn’t wearing it.
“What the hell gave you that idea?” Ben asked, purposefully lowering his voice. They were in the middle of one of L.A.’s most exclusive lunch spots and Becca wasn’t even trying to maintain their privacy.
“We’ve been sleeping together for weeks and aside from kissing the top of my head and holding me you’ve done absolutely nothing.” She took a sip of her iced tea, tapping one perfectly manicured nail against the glass.
She was so coldly beautiful she made his teeth hurt. He hated her like this; cold, collected, flawless, like a perfectly sculpted piece of ice at a high class garden party.
“I came out of the bathroom last night wearing nothing but a pair of Jimmy Choo stilettos and all you did was look me in the eye, the eye for goodness sake, and say ‘good night’ before you left. Remember?”
She was getting louder with every word. Men three tables away were staring at him as if he were out of his mind. And he was, he had to be, to put himself through this. Remember? Hell. He couldn’t think of anything else. The image of her naked in those impossibly high shoes was permanently burned in his brain. He saw it when his eyes were open, it was more vivid when his eyes were closed.
“Are we ever going to have sex?” She was screaming now. There wasn’t a patron in the restaurant who could have missed that. Hell, Ben mused, they probably heard her in the restroom.
Ben folded his napkin and laid it on the starched white tablecloth in front of him. He got up slowly and walked around to Becca’s chair, offering her his hand. When she took it he helped her from her chair. Before she was able to gain her balance, Ben pulled her to him and kissed her.
He soothed and teased. He licked and sucked, probed and prodded. He held her face gently as he worked his mouth over hers. He didn’t stop until she was panting and writhing against him. Then he broke the kiss, but he didn’t pull away. He was centimeters from her lips when he spoke softly, gently for her ears alone.
“I’ve wanted to sink into that perfect body of yours since I pulled you kicking and screaming from that tub full of spaghetti. I wanted to f
uck you senseless then, and I want to fuck you now. And, I’d feel like shit two seconds after I pulled out.” She recoiled and tried to pull away. Ben held her firmly.
“I won’t. I don’t want to fuck ‘Becca the Bitch’. I want Becky. Becky with the beautiful heart. Becky, the woman who isn’t covered in ice. I wouldn’t fuck Becky, I’d make love to her. Slowly.” Ben’s tone turned to steel.
“Just as soon as you decide you no longer want to be Becca, the cold-hearted-Bitch-from-hell, you let me know. We’ll have ‘sex’ then. Otherwise leave me the hell alone. It’s too painful watching you slowly kill the best part of you.” Ben let her go abruptly.
He smirked when she stumbled and looked at him in wide-eyed shock. He wanted to reach out a hand to help steady her. He put them in his pockets instead.
Ben reached into his wallet, threw some bills on the table and left without looking back.
...
Super model Snubbed in Hollywood Hotspot.
Becca read the tabloid headline and felt nothing more than a pang of regret that some idiot reporter got a photo of Ben. It was grainy and his features were blurred, but the picture brought tears to her eyes.
She ran one finger over his photo. Her nails were bitten to the quick, but she didn’t care. In the photo it looked like he was holding her tenderly. He hadn’t been.
“Oh Ben.” Becca whispered, kicking an empty pizza box. She was a mess. Her apartment was a mess too. She’d gained ten pounds in the past week eating carry-out she hadn’t bothered to throw away.
The tabloid with Ben’s photo was days old but she couldn’t bear to throw it away. It was the only photo she had of him.
Frustrating man.
She missed him.
She missed his barks of laughter when she said something he thought was out of character. She missed his disapproving look when she undressed for a photo shoot. It wasn’t the state of undress that he disapproved of, at least Becca didn’t think so, it was the way the photographers threw out the sexual banter which she returned more out of habit than enjoyment.
She missed the way he kissed her goodnight and held her while she slept. What she didn’t miss was waking up without him and the way he was always walking away.
Ben was right about one thing though. She was a bitch. She’d had a good decade of practice locking her emotions safely away while she pursued the only goal she’d allowed herself, financial independence. She’d set out to be free, to stand on her own, without needing anyone or anything outside of those things she could provide through her own hard work.
And she’d succeeded. She had thirty million dollars in the bank. She had contracts with three major fashion houses. Her face sold everything from swimwear to breakfast cereal.
She was rich. She was famous. And she was so lonely that the thought of ordering one more carry-out meal while she spent the night watching re-runs of Friends, had her wanting to shave her head and change her name.
She wasn’t that stupid. Yet, she silently amended.
Becca looked at her dirty, lank hair and the dark circles under her eyes and decided she’d had enough of feeling sorry for herself. Becca Stonehaven didn’t sit around sulking waiting for her life to improve.
Becky Stone didn’t either.
Becca showered, dressed in her fat jeans, which were way too tight, and booked the first flight to Milwaukee. On her way to the airport she called her cleaning service and had them re-instate her twice weekly cleaning. She made a note in her checkbook to pay them double for this past week. She found herself smiling for the first time in a week.
Look out Ben Stark. Becca Stonehaven is more woman than you gave her credit for. So is Becky Stone, big guy, and here they both come.
...
“What are you doing here?” Ram asked not believing his eyes when he opened his front door.
“I invited her.” Hunter said from behind him.
“What possessed you to do that? This woman is a viper, believe me, I know.” Ram said, narrowing his eyes. Becca didn’t look much like the femme fatale dressed in jeans that weren’t fashionably ripped, an oversized Packer jersey and a pair of running shoes.
“Did you get that outfit at the airport?” Ram asked disparagingly.
Hunter pushed past him and grabbed Becca’s hand, pulling her into the house. Ram was still scowling but he didn’t try to stop her. “You said I could feel at home in any of your houses. Remember?” Hunter asked, batting her eyes at him.
Ram raised a brow at his stepdaughter and remained silent. He’d learned early in life that when a woman, no matter how young or seemingly innocent, quoted his own words back to him, there was no sense engaging in the argument, because he’d already lost.
Hunter tried reasoning with him. “Becca was there for me when I needed a friend. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t been there to give me a shoulder to cry on.” Hunter knew she was pushing it a bit. She hadn’t actually cried on Becca’s shoulder. They’d shopped instead, but Ram didn’t need to know that.
“She needs a place to hang for awhile and we’ve got plenty of room, so I asked her to stay.”
Ram ignored the imploring look on Hunter’s face and the small smile on Becca’s. “She’s staying?” He asked menacingly. “Does your mother know about this.” He couldn’t believe Rhia would stand for this, but then his wife had been acting strange lately. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Hunter smiled at him and he knew the answer before she said it. “Mom’s fine with it.” Fine was a bit generous, but her mom had said Becca could stay. Hunter didn’t think it was an opportune time to mention that her mom had also said ‘keep her the hell away from me.’ Ram might take that as grounds for kicking Becca out, and Hunter really wanted her to stay.
She’d been questioning Ben about Becca when Ben went into shut down mode. That piqued Hunter’s interest enough to ask a few more questions. It was obvious to her that they were both miserable alone, but that neither would bend enough to meet the other half-way. That was until Becca called.
Hunter wasn’t above a little matchmaking for two people who accepted her, no questions asked, when she appeared on Becca’s doorstep in the middle of the night.
Ram left them in the foyer muttering something about wanting a family and getting a ‘damned menagerie’ instead. Hunter smiled. Ram would come around, for all his grumbling she’d seen him with Ethan and her mom, he more than loved them. He enjoyed their company.
It was going to be smooth sailing from here on out, Hunter was sure of it. After she smoothed a few ripples in the water at any rate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ram decided to hide out in the study. He had a number of guitars there and he needed to work on his new material. Unfortunately, since he’d gotten back from Wales, he’d been having trouble finishing the songs he needed for his solo album. Cowboy was ready to help him by playing bass and piano on some of the tracks. He was working on a number where he’d play fiddle accompanied by Cowboy on bass.
Rhia found Ram in the study. Barefoot as usual, dressed in old jeans and an old Yes concert t-shirt. He was standing in front of the floor to ceiling windows facing Lake Michigan with a violin in his hands. She walked in, past an array of guitars and an impossibly small electric keyboard.
Ram heard her approach but didn’t turn around. The lake was beautiful today, and he’d had enough quiet to be creative. It didn’t seem to matter, the magic just wasn’t flowing. Nothing was flowing today.
Rhia put her arms around him from behind and gave him a hug. She smelled good today, but then she always did. She nestled into him for a second, her head hitting him below his shoulder blades. It was times like these, when he wasn’t looking at her that he realized just how small she was. When she was facing him, whether she was giving him hell or loving him, she seemed much larger.
He could get used to her unconscious touches. If they were in the same room, Rí found a way to touch him, his hand, his hair, she just liked touchin
g. He hadn’t had a lot of that since his mom died and he missed it.
Ram watched her with Hunter and Ethan, she was always touching them too. He’d married into a touchy-feely family. His family in Wales was like that, maybe that’s why he always considered Pontrhydyfen home.
Rhia let go and walked over to one of his guitars. She was trying, he’d give her that. She didn’t know anything about what went into song-writing or composing, but she had a good ear and she was interested.
“This one is pretty.” She said lifting his Gibson J-200 hollow body. It was his favorite guitar, and compared to his others it wasn’t all that pretty. It looked so absurdly huge in her small hands Ram had to smile. She had a way of making him feel better just by walking into the room.
“That is my favorite guitar. It’s old school acoustic. I use it mostly when I’m writing songs. It’s odd that you’d pick that one Rí.”
She shot him her sexy grin and went up on tippy-toes to kiss his cheek. “I have exceptional taste.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows at him. He knew she was talking about him, she had to be, since she didn’t know squat about guitars.
“Why is it your favorite?” She asked cocking her head at him.
“I tend to play a little more percussively than most.” He shrugged, trying to explain, as he lifted the Gibson from her hands. “This baby’s big body gives more resonance than a smaller guitar.” He played a few chords for her. “See?”
He picked up one of his smaller acoustics and played the same chords. “Can you hear the difference?” He asked.
“The Gibb’s son sounds fuller, bigger. I can feel it more easily.”
Well she’d said it better than he had. “Gibson, not Gibb’s son.” He said correcting her. He set his guitar down and picked up his fiddle. It was old too, he wasn’t sure just how old, it belonged to his mother.