The Crow Brothers: JET - TULSA - RIVERS - RIDGE

by Scott, S. L.

  The I do’s are done and rings are on fingers. My gaze slides from her eyes to her lips, delicate pink petals calling me home. I cup her pretty face and lean in to taste the cinnamon once again. Just before our lips meet, I spy dandelions in her hair and smile, not just because of the flowers, but because our lives our finally entwined forever.

  My beautiful wildflower.

  My love.

  My wife.

  My home.

  TURN the page for a BONUS Epilogue.

  BONUS Epilogue

  Jet

  We haven’t been in Hawaii but for two hours and the first round of newlywed lovin’ was good. Can’t wait to see how the second round goes. Hannah promised to let me try something new in the private pool on our balcony overlooking the beach.

  Naked and breathtakingly gorgeous, she reaches over me and grabs a box from the nightstand. I grab hold of her hips, ready for that second round now. But she starts laughing and swatting my hands away. Setting the box on my stomach, she says, “Open it.”

  “Is this a wedding gift?” I ask watching a mischievous glint spark in her eyes. Seductress. Tease. Flipping her down onto her back, I maneuver between her legs, already hardening again. “I thought we agreed no gifts?”

  “Being married to you is gift enough, but this is something that can’t wait until your birthday or our anniversary.”

  “What about Christmas?”

  “Definitely not Christmas.” After setting it on her chest, she nudges it. “Just open it.”

  After kissing each one of her perfect tits, I take the unusually shaped box and turn it over. “Is it a watch? You trying to keep me on time?”

  “It’s not a watch.” She smiles. “Jet, you’re impossible you know that?”

  “My mom called me a knight in shining armor with a ladykiller smile.”

  “Your mom filled your head with nonsense,” she says, laughing. “Now open it.”

  I lift the lid but then set it back down. “So you’re saying I don’t have a ladykiller smile? Are you telling me my mama just told me I was handsome because she was my mom?” I try to hold back my laughter, but fail miserably when she rolls her eyes.

  “Oh my God, Jet. Just open it all right already.”

  “Fine. Fine.” I lift the lid and look inside the long skinny white box.

  I sit up still staring down at the box. Hannah rests her chin on my slumped forward shoulder, her hand rubbing lightly over my bare back. No jokes come to mind. The teasing has stopped, but then she whispers, “That ladykiller smile gets me every time.”

  Taking the present out of the packaging, I ask, “This is real, right?”

  “Yes, it’s real.”

  “Two pink lines?”

  “Two solid pink lines.”

  Swallowing becomes harder as realization sets in. “You’re pregnant?”

  With a wide and smug grin, she replies, “I sure am, Mr. Crow.”

  “I’m going to be a dad again?”

  With a laugh, she kisses my arm. “Yes, and this time I’m going to let you do everything you never got to do the first time like change those middle of the night diapers.”

  “Happily, but might I remind you that this is all new to you too.”

  “How about we do this together?”

  Her hair’s a fucking sexy mess, her lips swollen from kissing. The makeup she wore for the wedding is all but lost in the sheets. But when I look at her, I see the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. There’s a glow that shines from the inside. Sincerity when she looks at me that gives me peace. A welcoming smile that accompanies her warm embrace. How did I get so lucky? “I wouldn’t do this any other way.” Leaning back, I bring her with me. The smell of her cinnamon mixes with the ocean breeze as she snuggles with me.

  “Are you happy?” she asks, her breath blowing across my chest.

  I struggle to answer such a simple question. Not because I’m not happy, but because I’ve never felt such a strong reaction. My breath doesn’t come easy and her head pops up to look at me. “Jet,” she says, stroking my cheek. “Aww.”

  There’s no hiding the water in my eyes, so I close them hoping it returns to where it came from. When I reopen them, I say, “Happy isn’t a big enough word for what feel. I just . . . I can’t believe we’re going to have a baby. I can’t believe you’re having my baby.”

  The tips of her nails scrape lightly along my scalp as she lies back, comfortable in who she is, not just exposing skin, but exposing her heart to me. Sliding down the mattress, I lean over her and kiss her stomach. “That’s my baby in there. My baby carrying my baby.”

  That makes her laugh. “So I’ve been thinking about names.”

  My gaze shoots up to catch her eyes on me and that glint is back. “And?”

  “I thought that maybe we should continue the Crow tradition.”

  “Which tradition is that?”

  Sitting up abruptly, she straddles me. With her hands on my chest, she’s clearly excited by how she starts talking faster. “Naming the baby after the place where she’s conceived.”

  Thinking about all the places we’ve had sex . . . and fucked, I start to tick off every major appliance, room in our house, in the Ojai guesthouse, and praying it’s not in some of the other places we were too impatient to wait. “Do you know where the baby was conceived?”

  “I do.”

  Please don’t let it be that time we did it in the bathroom, or on the pool table, or in the bed of my truck. “Where?"

  * * *

  Keep reading to find out all about baby Crow in TULSA.

  Copyright © S.L. Scott 2018

  The right of S.L. Scott to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

  This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-940071-66-4

  Design: RBA Designs

  Photographer: Art-of-Photo

  Editing:

  Jenny Sims, Editing4Indies

  Marion Archer, Making Manuscripts

  Marla Esposito, Proofing Style

  Kristen Johnson, Proofreader

  Team Readers: Lynsey Johnson and Andrea Johnston

  TULSA

  The rumors are true. At least where I’m concerned.

  Drummers hit it harder and do it better.

  Women love me and I love them. But I like to think of myself as a sensitive soul trapped in a lady-killer’s body. Not so surprisingly, I’ve been called cocky a time or two. What can I say? We can’t all be boy scouts.

  Nikki Faris has thrown off my rhythm. With her red lips, smart aleck mouth, short skirts, long legs, and blue-sky eyes, the beautiful lead singer has become a complete distraction on this tour.

  She loves to give me a hard time when all I want to do is give her the pleasure of my hard—time right back.

  Tulsa Crow can save his pick up lines, great eight-pack abs, and cute dimples to use on someone else. My band earned their spot on The Resistance’s tour just like The Crow Brothers. I’m not going to blow it getting sidetracked by a cocky rock star that wants to sleep his way through the states. I’ve been called a name or two, but easy isn’t one of them.

  But the best intentions with him turn into a walk of shame for me. Only, I don’t feel shame. Instead, I’m doing the very thing I said I wouldn’t—falling for a playboy.

  We make sinful music when we’re on the road, but what happens to our melody when the tour ends?

  Prologue

  Tulsa Crow

  There’s just somet
hing about a short, denim skirt riding high on tan legs tucked into a tall pair of cowboy boots. Add a tight, white tee or even a cut-off shirt to show a little—or a lot—of that fine figure and you’ll not just catch my attention, you might even land a date.

  Of course, a great face is a bonus, but I see beauty in all types of women. The only thing I’m picky about is a woman who likes to have a good time and feels confident in what the good Lord gave her.

  Wallflowers don’t look twice at me, and good girls don’t take me home to meet their daddy. Nope. I’m the guy bad girls cheat on their boyfriends with and mothers slip their numbers to when their daughters aren’t looking.

  My reputation precedes me. It’s one I’ve earned notch by notch, gig after gig. At twenty-three, life is more than good. Life is great.

  Pulling my shirt over my head, I punch my arms through the sleeves and then buckle my belt. I’m quiet as I settle my snapback cap on my head and reach down to tuck my socks into my boots. I grab them by the top of the leather to tiptoe out. I hate being stranded, but some nights, I get talked into things I just can’t turn down.

  Last night, it was Tricia. She sits up on the bed and rests back on her elbows. “Are you sneaking out, Tulsa Crow?”

  Annnnnnd, her best friend, Sassie, with an I-E, who mimics Tricia. “Don’t go. It’s Sunday. Let’s sleep in and then maybe we can have a little more fun.”

  Checking my back pocket, I find my phone and wallet. Since I got a ride over here, I don’t have my keys. “Sorry, ladies. I have a flight at five. I need to get home to pack.”

  Tricia smiles when the sheet slips down. “But it’s only nine.”

  Damn, she has great tits.

  Sassie tilts her head to the side. “C’mon, Tulsa. Come back to bed. You’re going to be gone for months. Give us something to tide us over until you return.”

  Fuck. Yes. Words every man wants to hear.

  Tricia adds, “Pleeeease, with me on top this time?”

  Unbuckling my belt, I drop my drawers and toss my hat. “Fuck it. Make room in the middle for me, ladies.” I yank my shirt off over my head and dive back in.

  Two hours later, I cut across the lawn toward my brother Rivers’s 4Runner. Resting an arm through the open window, he shakes his head.

  “Call us when you’re back in town, Tulsa.” When I turn around, the ladies are in the doorway of their apartment, giving me a little wave while Tricia wears the hat I left behind as a souvenir.

  “You know I will.” I send each a wink with a little click of my tongue.

  Rivers says, “Get in, fucker.”

  I nod with a fuckin’ smug smile on my face as I cross in front of the SUV. “You know it.”

  After climbing in, I slam the door shut. Rivers takes off before I even have my seat belt on and says, “You know your dick’s going to get you in trouble one day.”

  “If by trouble you mean sweet little pussy, then you’re right. It got me in trouble about four or five times last night with the BFFs.”

  He laughs, but this is a topic we don’t normally discuss. “You’re a real catch, I tell ya.”

  His sarcasm may drip, but he doesn’t get it. “I can’t help that the ladies love me so much.”

  “Look, I’m not going to lecture you on your sex life. I’ll leave that to Jet.” He chuckles, knowing our brother loves to give me shit. As the oldest Crow, I guess that’s his job. Rivers is the middle brother, so I’m not sure he feels quite like the dad in the bunch, but he still feels it’s his place to read me my rights when it comes to my life. He asks, “Are you packed?”

  “Sure.” Not at all, but it won’t take me long. The minor details aren’t worth mentioning, or we’ll just end up bickering.

  “We leave for the airport in less than two hours. Are you ready for LA?”

  Our first stadium tour kicks off in two days in California. “I may not have clean clothes, but I’ll be ready to play.”

  Rivers has a serious side, but he’s always been there for me not just as a brother but also a friend. It’s good to have your brothers as your best friends. Without them looking out for me, I wouldn’t be able to fuck around like I do. He side-eyes me. “How many girls are you going to love and leave while we’re on the road?”

  “How many stops are on the tour?”

  Our hands meet in the middle in a fist bump.

  I’m not sure if he’s impressed or disappointed when he refers to last night’s escapades by asking, “Two girls, huh?”

  “They’ve always been close.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “How well do you know?” I’m not the jealous type, but I don’t hook up with girls my brothers have been with already.

  “Not well. I turned them down last year.”

  “And Jet?”

  He chuckles. “Not his style.” The laughter stops, and he pulls into the carport of the apartment we share. It’s not nice, but it’s what we could afford while playing local gigs before we signed the record deal, and the area is safe. Our lives have changed a lot in the past year. Now that we have money growing in the bank, it’ll be time to move on when our lease runs out in three months. “I don’t really see them as your style either, Tuls.”

  “They’re just fun. Don’t worry. They’re already in the past.”

  “Be careful. The past has a way of catching up with your future.”

  “Yeah. Yeah.” I get out of the vehicle and shut the door. Walking up to our door, I add, “Don’t worry about me, Riv. I’m doing just fine.”

  “Whatever you say, but I have a little tip for you. Don’t screw up something good by screwing something bad.” A nod and a chuckle are all I give him before heading inside, straight to my room to shower and then pack.

  He’s just being his usual worried self, but his words echo through my mind—the past has a way of catching up with your future. I know that well, given how Jet’s life had turned out. In his case, he couldn’t be happier. In my case, I’m doing fine with no worries. I’m livin’ and lovin’ life.

  I’m a rock star with a record burning up the charts. I’m about to go on a sold-out tour opening for The Resistance, one of the most famous bands in the world.

  Life can’t get better.

  Nope, it can’t.

  So, if I’m not worried about my future or my past, then why do my brother’s words about who I’m screwing bother me so much?

  1

  Tulsa Crow

  Lowering my Ray-Bans down over my eyes, I tilt my head up to the blue skies. Bogged down with my carry-on in one hand, I spread my other arm out wide. “We have arrived, LA.”

  “Stop making a fucking scene, Tulsa,” Jet admonishes, brushing past me to get to the black SUV.

  Flashes become distracting, but when the click of cameras rattles around me, I give the paparazzi what they came for—my good side, showing off the dimple in my chin the ladies can’t get enough of.

  Just as I throw them a quick salute, Rivers grabs me by the front of the shirt. “C’mon, fucker. Get in the vehicle.”

  If my hands were free, I’d pop my collar, but they aren’t, so I climb in through the open door and slide across the leather seat. Just as Rivers shuts the door, I hand Jet my bag, and he tosses it to the back behind Dave. “Hey! I have breakable shit in there,” I say, irritated. “Be careful.”

  “Your dildo will be fine.”

  “Fuck off.” I try to sound pissed, but I start laughing. “That was funny.”

  My brothers and our newest band member, Dave Carson, start laughing along with me, the tension they felt brought on by the paparazzi at LAX dissipating. I don’t let things get to me as easily. Life’s too short for that shit.

  Jet, the oldest Crow, has had a lot to handle over the past eight years. He stepped up when our dad stepped out before I was four. When I was a teenager, our mom died, but there was no way Jet would allow us to be separated. At only nineteen, he fought to ensure we stayed together. He quit college and got a job doing landscaping in
the afternoons so we could play gigs at night. I had no idea what that sacrifice truly meant until I went to college and had the easy life he never did.

  He raised us when no one else gave a damn what happened to us after our mom passed away. Jet sacrificed his own goals to help Rivers and me reach ours. So, we earned our college degrees while he worked. Even though Jet’s a great role model, he’s also a hard ass. His high expectations of us, and for us, were what got us to this point. So it doesn’t matter what we go through—we’re brothers by blood and by choice. I’m a lucky bastard.

  A dry sense of humor runs in the family. Sarcasm could be our middle names if my mom hadn’t already been so wickedly funny when it came to that. Jet Mercury, Rivers East, and mine, a little too fitting for me since it seems most out of left field—Tulsa Madigan. It was never a secret that I was a surprise, so who knows where she came up with that name.

  I think Louisa Rain Crow knew she was pushing her luck when she got pregnant with me. We can’t all be boy scouts.

  Landing in LA today brings us one step closer to opening our first stadium tour tomorrow.

  Even though we have an album still sitting at the top of the music charts months after Outlaw Records released it, this trip is what changes everything.

  Johnny Outlaw, the famous lead singer, guitarist, and band spokesman for The Resistance, signed us to a two-album deal last year. Part of the deal was that we open for his band on their US tour. Not like we’d say no.

  Since we signed, we’ve gotten to know Tommy, their manager and now ours, and Dex, one of the founding members and drummer of The Resistance, well.