“And I didn’t find out about it until Christmas morning, once everything in Atlanta was closed. You should have seen me—”
My mother’s voice interrupts Shannon, and both our gazes whip toward the kitchen entrance as Mom marches into the room with a cranberry and vodka tipped to her lips. “You should’ve told me you needed help, baby girl.”
Lord, I hate when she calls me that. She must realize that because she rewords what she just said, this time as a question, and a big grin splits her features as the godawful nickname leaves her mouth.
“Didn’t want to interrupt the football game.” I smile at her, and I’m sure it looks pleading. “Mom, this is Lucas’ mom Shannon. Shannon, my mother, Rebecca.”
“We’ve met already,” she says as she sits at the table with Shannon. Then she shrugs and laughs. “Well, we’ve sent each other letters.”
Gee, thanks for the reminder that you went behind my back and sent mail to Lucas’ parents from prison.
I hold my breath while they exchange pleasantries, the youth pastor from Atlanta with the rockstar son and the woman that tried to convince underaged son to take the fall for her drug-dealing. As different as they are, though, Mom is being shockingly nice. Keeping a cautious eye on them, I put the finishing touches on lunch. I almost believe our first real holiday as a family won’t be an absolute clusterfuck, but then my brother pokes his head in the kitchen. He’s scowling. Which means that either the Titans are getting their ass kicked by the Falcons or Mom’s done something crazy.
Turns out, it’s the latter.
“Did you invite someone to eat with us today, Rebecca?” Seth demands.
She looks up from her conversation with Lucas’s mom and blinks a few times. “Is he here?”
He tilts his head to the side in disbelief before finally shaking it. “You’re a piece of work. You know that, don’t you?”
Frowning in confusion, I toss the snowflake-print oven mitts on the counter and edge closer to my brother. “Seth, what’s—” But I stop in my tracks when I spot a familiar face—a face I haven’t seen in years—standing in my grandmother’s foyer.
Preston. The ex-boyfriend from hell.
“Are you kidding?” I blurt out.
“Relax, baby girl,” Mom drawls from the table. “We ran into each other at the grocery store the other day and when he told me his mother passed away a year ago, I invited him here. Everyone wants to be around familiar faces for the holidays.”
If anyone else had said that, I’d believe they hadn’t intended to be a bitch. Mom, on the other hand…
Slowly, I turn to look at her, digging my nails into my palms. “Thanks for looking out, Mom.”
There’s a sick feeling swimming around the pit of my stomach as Preston and I stare each other down. He was my first love—hell, my first lover—but up until thirty seconds ago, I never thought I’d see him again. I mean, sure, he’s from Nashville too, but it’s a big city. We don’t even travel in the same circle of friends.
And yet, my mother conveniently managed to run into him at the store when the only groceries I’ve seen her buy since she came home are mixers for her drinks and cigarettes.
As if on cue, a smile splits his face, and he takes a step closer toward the kitchen. “Sienna. You look just like—”
I shove past my brother, holding up my hand. “What are you doing here?” I cast an anxious glance at the living room entry, and I’m thankful the volume of the football game is turned on high. “We agreed never to see each other again.”
He runs his hand sheepishly over his short black hair and shrugs, his expression giving me a clear view of his dimples. When I was in high school, that look was my downfall, and I was always eager to please him. Now, I don’t feel a thing other than irritation as I stand beneath the bright, multicolored lights decorating the foyer, jabbing my tongue in my cheek. “Preston?”
“I’ve been talking to your mom lately and she brought up Christmas. When she asked me what I was doing, I thought about all the good times we used to have together. Remember that year in New York?” When I nod lamely, he continues, “It made me think. What if I hadn’t been such a dick, if maybe—”
“You know I’m engaged, right?” When he nods slowly, I carve my fingers through my red hair then wring my hands together. “You didn’t think my fiancé might be around? You know, since it’s Christmas Eve and engaged people usually spend the holidays together.”
“Your mom said he was in Atlanta, so I figured I had a good shot.”
My mom said. Why am I not surprised?
“Well, that’s because she’s a liar,” I snap. A thought hits me like a ton of bricks, and I cross my arms over my chest and release an outraged breath. “And even if he was in Atlanta, that wouldn’t give you a shot at a damn—”
“Lucas Wolfe is here now?” He looks impressed, and I roll my eyes. “Damn, Sienna. You were always good, but for you to get a rockstar in your—”
“You might want to cut yourself off right there before I’m forced to give you your own fucking teeth as a Christmas gift.”
Preston and I whip around at the same time to see Lucas leaning against the doorframe, his broad shoulders taut and his stance wide. I’m not fooled by the sardonic smile twisting his lips. This situation is not amusing to him whatsoever. His hazel eyes are cold and hard, and as he moves his gaze from Preston to me, I clear my throat.
“Lucas Wolfe, this is Preston Lewis.”
“Preston,” Lucas repeats, both syllables drawn out in low growl.
“My mom invited him to join us for lunch,” I add through clenched teeth. I shoot a glare at the kitchen. God knows what Mom is in the kitchen telling Shannon Wolfe at this very moment. “Preston and I … we dated briefly.”
“If briefly means all through high school and college,” he corrects me, leaning forward to shake Lucas’s hand. My fiancé stares at it for a moment before pushing away from the doorway to come stand behind me. His hand on my hip is comforting, but I’m still shaking. How could my mom do this to me? I was seconds from thinking she’d let this day happen without any bull and then she had to go and shit all over it before we even started.
The only thing that could make this worse is if one of Lucas’ one-night stands—or worse, Cilla Craig—showed up.
Shuddering, I tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Lucas telling Preston. “Whether you stay or not, Sienna’s mine. That shit ain’t changing. “
“Maybe, but just remember—”
“Preston Lewis! What a surprise to see you here,” Gram speaks up.
This time, I’m thankful for my grandmother’s intrusion, because I can already guess the next words to come from Preston’s mouth: Just remember I banged her first.
And that is the last thing Lucas needs to hear with his parents in my house.
I shoot Gram an appreciative look, noticing the way her blue eyes narrow at my ex-boyfriend. When she flicks a questioning stare at me, I mouth, “Rebecca.”
Her lips thin into a disapproving line. And then, because she doesn’t have it in her to be rude to anyone, she smiles at him. “Come on, we better go to the dining room.” Turning to look over her shoulder, she teasingly tells Lucas’s dad, “Danny, might as well have some food to get ready for that loss.”
My grandmother and ex disappear into the dining room with Mr. Wolfe following a few seconds behind them. He’s grinning broadly and shaking his head. “Your grandma is—” He freezes and looks between Lucas and me, his brows tugging together. “Is everything alright?”
“It’s fine,” Lucas promises, but his smile is tight. “Give us a few?”
Mr. Wolfe nods, and once he’s out of sight, out of earshot, I let my shoulders sag and slowly turn toward him. I stare down at the floor, squeezing my eyes together to stop the tears burning the corners. “Whenever I think she’s not going to do something else crazy, she pulls something like this. Why in the world would she ask him here? And why would he even come?”
“Oh
, Red.” He releases a breath, and I feel his strong hands on my shoulders. “Look at me.” When I don’t, he kisses me hard, not pulling away until I’m winded and dizzy. “If you could only see yourself the way I do, you’d know why she likes to fuck with you, why he was dumb enough to bring his ass here when he knows that you’ve moved on.”
“And what reason would that be?” I whisper.
He strokes his fingers over my shoulder before cupping the back of my neck. With his other hand, he feathers his thumb across my cheek. “You shine, Red. People do crazy things simply to be around you. Trust me, I know—I’m one of them. Your grandmother loves you and that threatens Rebecca. You’re with me, and that dumb shit Parker—”
“Preston,” I correct, laughing, and he kisses me again.
“Preston, Parker, what-the-fuck-ever. He’s threatened by the thought of you being with someone else. And you’re with me, Sienna. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you go ‘cause of a little prick like that.” Drawing away from me, he skims his fingers down my arm and takes my hand. He starts to tug me toward the dining room, but I shake my head.
“You’re wrong, you know?”
“About what?”
“Preston. It’s been years since we were together.”
Now it’s his turn to laugh—a sound that breaks through the panic still rattling around in my chest. “Damn, Red. Haven’t you figured out by now that you’re worth fighting for?”
“Thank you for bringing me here. And I’m sorry about this afternoon,” I whisper, catching a glimpse of Lucas’s nearly naked, tattooed reflection in the mirror that hangs on the back of our hotel door. Lunch ended hours ago, but I’ve been apologizing ever since we left my grandmother’s place to board a flight to Atlanta. The trip came as a surprise--when we exchanged gifts after eating, he’d presented me with the tickets. Not that I’m complaining. I welcome this escape from my mother, from the smug grin that flitted across her face whenever she defended her decision to invite my ex to Gram’s.
Realizing that I’m scowling at the mirror, I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten before facing him again.
“Ugh, I need to stop letting my mom screw with me. I mean, I get to see Kylie tonight. And I’ll wake up next to you tomorrow morning. It’s our first Christmas together.”
Turning away from the fully stocked minibar, Lucas releases a chuckle and shakes his head, his mess of wet dark hair falling in his beautiful face. As he strides toward me, he shoves his unruly locks back so our eyes lock. He stops once he’s behind me, skimming his hands from my waist to my hips and back up again.
“Don’t bring that woman in here with us,” he whispers, dropping his full lips to my temple. “In fact, if you mention her one more time—” Instead of telling me what he’ll do, he teasingly shows me, giving my ass a little smack that makes me gasp.
I swear, getting spanked shouldn’t feel so good.
“You’re getting me wet,” I manage to say through my breathlessness, and when his brows shoot up and his grin broadens, I quickly revise that remark. “My dress, Mr. Wolfe. Your chest is wet and you’re getting it all over me.”
Giving me an appreciative look, he backs away from me and studies my backside before motioning for me to turn around to face him. I do, and he slowly drinks in the sight of the strappy red bandage dress. It was another gift from him today—from a designer that I’ve always wanted to wear—and I’m already attached to the sexy little number. “I want to tear it off you. God, the effect you have on me, Red…”
I rest my shoulders against the mirror behind me and shake my head. “If you even think about ripping this dress, I’ll—” But he tugs me to him, his strong hands on either side of my ass and his gaze intense as he stares down at me. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’ll always look at you like this.” His mouth moves over mine, tasting slowly in an agonizing, sensual dance. When he draws away, his eyes are closed. Taking my hand in his, he presses my palm against his rock-hard erection, and my throat goes dry. “We show up, we mingle, and then you’re all mine.”
This is the second time we’ve been to a party in Atlanta—the first was several months ago—but this time instead of a night club, it’s being held at a swanky Buckhead house. A few minutes after we arrive, and Kylie finds me, she tells me it belongs to a top executive of the band’s record company. Hooking her arm through mine, she starts to drag me off, giving her brother a death glare when he tries to protest.
“Good god, Luke, you can go without her for five minutes. Go talk to Wyatt or Cal. Y’all can plan a Christmas album for next year or some shit,” she tells him over her shoulder.
He responds with a dark look that stomps all over the one she’s giving him, but she pulls me around the corner to where she grins at a bartender. I glance from her rounded belly to her eyebrows tugging together in determination and scowl. “Um, Kylie—”
She rolls her big, chocolate brown eyes. “Oh, calm your tits, woman. I wouldn’t dream of touching a real drink to these lips until baby McCrae makes his appearance.” To the bartender, she sweetly asks, “Can I get a virgin Bloody Mary with a ton of olives?”
After I ask for the same—but with a double shot of vodka and an eighth of the olives—I turn to her. “How was Disney World?”
“Really, really ... Disney.” She tilts her face up to look at me, the corners of her eyes crinkling because she’s smiling so hard.
“If you keep that up, you’re going to break your face.”
She drops the smile but then laughs in earnest. “Brenna had a good time, so that’s all that matters.” She spends the next couple minutes giving me the rundown on her mini-vacation with Wyatt and her stepdaughter. Once we have our drinks, we walk to the pool—which seems to be the quietest part of the house.
“Your mom is on my crap list,” she finally says. “Seriously, I hope that crazy bitch wakes up tomorrow morning to find a sack of dogshit under the tree.”
I laugh bitterly. “Join the club. Your parents probably think we’re all kinds of messed up and trashy.” Lucas had already mentioned visiting his parents tomorrow, for more Christmas festivities, and I’m already dreading it.
We sit side-by-side on teak lounge chairs. “Actually, my parents had nothing but good things to say about you. I wouldn’t have known what happened if Lucas hadn’t texted what happened.”
I should feel relief at Kylie’s words, but it doesn’t change the awkward tension that hung over the entire table this afternoon. “He thinks Mom is jealous of my relationship with Gram,” I say quietly.
She pops an olive in her mouth and bobs her head up and down. “Sometimes, he’s right. Believe it or not, this is one of those times I completely agree with him.”
“I just wish that—” But then I catch myself and rake my hands through my hair, probably ruining the loose red curls I worked hard to perfect. “Not even an hour ago I promised Lucas I’d stop talking about that woman, and yet here I am—”
“Kylie Wolfe,” a voice calls out, interrupting me, and I bite the tip of my tongue because I instantly recognize who it belongs to. We both look up to see Cilla Craig coming our way. Like always, she looks beautiful, with her black hair swept up in a high ponytail and her curves poured into a sexy black jumpsuit. I try to forget that she and Lucas were briefly involved. Stopping right in front of us, she puts her hands on her hips and sweeps her blue-green eyes over me.
“Didn’t realize you’d be here, Pepper.”
For what seems like hours—instead of thirty seconds, max—I sit with my spine uncomfortably straight, staring up at Cilla. With her hands on her hips, and her lips curved into a smug grin, I wonder what she’s thinking. Or what’s going to come out of her mouth next. Eventually, I narrow my eyes and make the first move. “I don’t suppose you care that I hate being called Pepper?” I demand.
“Why would I?” She steps around our chairs and chooses the seat on the opposite side of Kylie, who snorts in response. “Don’t be a bitch,
Ky,” Cilla snaps before leaning forward so she can look at me. “Besides, Sienna, it’s not like the Pepper thing is an insult. She happens to be my favorite Avenger.”
I start to speak, but my future sister-in-law beats me to the punch. “Pepper’s not an Avenger, so what the hell do you want?”
The other brunette twirls a long strand of her ponytail around her finger and bites her bottom lip. At last, she shrugs. “I’m hiding from someone.” She grins sheepishly. “Apparently, my … friend doesn’t have as much appeal when the beer goggles come off.”
“If you can put them back on, will you go away?” Kylie teases. “Quick, Sienna, give her your drink and find a bartender.”
“Red?” Butterflies swarm my stomach when Lucas calls out my name, and I look to my left to see him approaching the pool area. He glances from me to Cilla and then to his sister, narrowing his hazel eyes to slits. “Is everything alright?”
“Relax, relax. I come in peace, bearing good tidings or whatever it is.” Cilla lifts her hands defensively and flutters her lashes together. “Even I draw the line at ruining Christmas.”
Wow. Maybe my mom can learn a thing or two from rock music’s most unpredictable songstress.
“Cilla, there’s not a goddamn part of you that’s peaceful,” Lucas points out, and she gives a husky chuckle. I’m not exactly sure he meant that as a compliment, but she’s smiling when she tilts her head to one side.
“I’m avoiding Tyler,” she admits.
His full lips part in a silent “Oh,” but he nods in understanding. “Now it makes sense why you’re out here.”
Tyler. I let the name ping around my head for a few seconds, then I face her with a wide stare as soon as I realize she’s talking about Your Toxic Sequel’s tour manager. Pressing her lips together, she jerks her head to each side. “Kylie, Pepper,” she warns, her voice dangerously low. “If you say one fucking word about it…”
Lucas snorts. “Ah, Cilla, calm down.” He motions me to him, and I get up from my seat to join him. Her gaze trails over us, and a flash of jealousy crosses her blue-green eyes before she looks away. Lucas drops his lips to my ear. “Red, there’s a few people I want you to meet before we go back to our hotel.”
Christmas with a Rockstar Page 24