Wild Flame (The Wild: A Rock Star Romance Book 2)

by Micalea Smeltzer

  Kira looks at me, fighting an amused smile. “It was good. I spent the day at the hospital working in the ER. That was … interesting.”

  “Interesting, how?”

  “This old dude came in and couldn’t get his erection to go down—he took three Viagra’s, because that makes total sense, right?” She shakes her head. “I spent a full five minutes hiding in an empty room laughing my ass off.”

  I shake my head. “The poor guy only wanted a boner, Kira. Don’t laugh at a man when he’s down … or up.”

  She cackles. “He still had a condom on—like please sir, safe sex is great and all, but we don’t need to deal with that too.”

  I laugh. “Sounds like an interesting day.”

  “It was.”

  “Nursing … do you like it? Does it make you happy?”

  She bites her lip, pondering my question. “I like it.”

  “You didn’t reply enthusiastically.”

  “I like it.” She pumps a fist in the air.

  I chuckle. “Still sounds fake.”

  She shrugs her slender shoulders practically up to her ears. “I had other dreams once, but the reality is a steady job is better than anything else. The world will always need nurses.”

  “You know what else the world always needs?” I glance at her as I slow at a red light.

  “I’m scared to answer,” she hedges.

  I grin. “Morticians.” I wink. “People always die.”

  She gags. “Nope, I can’t do that one. Gross.” She shudders.

  “Oh, come on. I’m sure it’s a very … quiet profession.”

  “Rush.” She smacks my arm. “Stop.”

  I laugh as the light turns green. I can see the restaurant up ahead on my right.

  “What would you have done if you hadn’t been a nurse? What was your dream?”

  She still hasn’t answered as I pull into the lot and park my truck.

  I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn to her. “Tell me,” I plead. I’m achingly desperate to learn more about her. It’s pathetic. At this point I’m ready to lap up any crumbs she dares to sprinkle on the floor.

  “It’s so dumb.” She gives a small laugh.

  “Nothing you do would ever be dumb.”

  Her brown eyes meet mine, looking at me through impossibly thick lashes. She’s been wearing less makeup lately. I like it, she seems more vulnerable this way—like I can see her. Don’t get me wrong, she looks great in makeup too, but it’s a different side of her, one I’m not used to.

  “I loved baking. I used to dream of opening my own shop. Selling cupcakes and other sweets. Like macarons—God, I love those.”

  I grin, pleased she’s shared this tiny bit of information with me. “Baking, I’m shocked.”

  “It’s dumb, I know. Such a little girl’s dream.”

  I shake my head. “I think it’s awesome. But why did you say loved.”

  She shrugs with a small sigh. “I don’t have the money to buy the ingredients or the things I need to do the actual baking. Being poor sucks.”

  I reach over and gently clasp her chin in my hand. We look at each other, the air taut between us. I want to kiss her, desperately, but I don’t think she’d want that. I don’t know what made me reach out to her, what I planned to do, and it feels silly now.

  Opening my mouth to say something, I don’t know what, I’m interrupted by pounding on the car window at my back.

  Kira jumps and I let her go.

  The moment is ruined, gone as quickly as it began.

  I whip around toward the window and glare.

  Rolling down the window I yell, “What the fuck are you doing, Foxtail?”

  “I was sent to fetch you,” he explains. “Can you stop with the nicknames?”

  “Never.” I roll the window up.

  Fox rolls his eyes and steps out of the way as I cut the engine and open the door. On the other side Kira gets out as well.

  Fox leads us into the restaurant and to a booth in the corner large enough to seat all of us.

  He slides in first, then Kira, with me on the end. With all six of us Kira is plastered close to my side. I’m a selfish bastard for liking it.

  I pick up the menu, looking over the items. We haven’t come here to eat yet, and Mexican isn’t usually my favorite. Unlike Kira, who I learned early on is a taco fiend.

  “Get the tacos,” she hisses under her breath. “They’re delicious.”

  “What if I don’t want tacos?” I counter, flipping to another page.

  “What kind of monster are you? Tacos are delicious. They are life. They are the moon, the sun, and all things right in this world. Without them, Earth could not spin on its axis.”

  I roll my eyes, flipping back a few pages to the front of the menu. “I doubt that.”

  She pushes her menu aside. “All I’m saying is, if you don’t get tacos don’t even think about taking mine.”

  I press a hand to my chest. “I’m wounded.”

  The waiter comes by and we place our drink order. Mia orders a margarita and Kira grumbles beside me.

  “I want a margarita too, but I’m not allowed. You just had to knock me up, didn’t you?”

  “I…” My eyes find Hollis across the table, but he doesn’t look surprised.

  “He knows,” Kira adds. “I didn’t tell him on purpose it just kind of slipped out.” She gives a sheepish shrug.

  “You knew?” I blurt at Hollis. “Since when? How long have you known?”

  Kira sighs beside me. “Before you.”

  “Before me?” I blurt in disbelief. “Was I the last person you told?”

  She gets a sheepish look.

  I sigh, slightly irritated and hurt. I want to say more to her, but this isn’t the time or the place.

  Instead, I pick up one of the nacho chips in a basket and dunk it into salsa. I shove it into my mouth, quieting anything I might say and regret later.

  Our waiter comes back with a tray full of drinks and I’m incredibly thankful for my Corona. Kira eyes me with pursed lips, but doesn’t say anything. I guess we’re both holding our tongues tonight.

  We place our food order and much to Kira’s chagrin I ordered steak fajitas.

  “Don’t touch my tacos,” she warns.

  “Can I touch your ass instead?”

  “Depends on how nice you are to me.” She gives me a coy smile.

  I lean over, ghosting my finger along her collarbone. “I promise to be very nice. The absolute best.” Her breath catches and I smile in satisfaction.

  I sit back and she squirms in her seat.

  Job well done.

  “How do you two feel about being parents?” Fox asks and our gazes swing to him. “It’s not like you planned this.” He crunches on a chip as I glare at him. “What?” He blinks innocently. “You didn’t.”

  Kira shrugs, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s … scary,” she admits. “But I’ll do what I have to do.”

  “We’ll do what we have to do,” I growl in a low reminder.

  She gives me a doubtful look. It pains me how she doesn’t believe me.

  “Rush has been reading baby books like crazy,” Fox tells her.

  I glare at him. “Don’t be a fucking tattle-tale, Foxglove.”

  Kira looks up at me with wide, surprised eyes. “You bought baby books?” I swear she looks like she’s about to cry, which makes no fucking sense.

  “Um … yeah,” I answer hesitantly. “You can borrow them if you want.”

  “That’s so sweet, Rush.” She hastily brushes away a tear.

  “You made her cry,” I admonish Fox.

  “I’m not sad,” she assures me. “It’s … unexpected and cute.”

  I roll my eyes. “There’s nothing cute about me or what I do.”

  Mia chokes on a laugh. “She’s pregnant and hormonal. Watch.” She holds up her phone. “Aren’t these baby penguins cute?”

  Kira takes the phone and looks at it. “Aw, they’re ado
rable. You know what’s even cuter?” We all wait for her to finish. “Baby velociraptors.”

  Mia takes her phone back. “I have to agree.”

  Hollis chuckles and drapes his arm behind Mia. “You and your dinosaurs.”

  “All I’m saying is, if dinosaurs ever come back you can rely on me to protect you.”

  “Is that so?” Cannon voices. “How?”

  She rolls her eyes dramatically. “I’m going to speak dinosaur to them, obviously. I’m Owen Grady’s prodigy.”

  “You know he’s not real, right?” Fox hesitates.

  She glares at him. “He’s real in my heart. That’s all that matters.”

  “You really like this chick?” I ask Hollis in mock-disbelief. “She’s weird,” I whisper under my breath.

  He places a loud kiss on her cheek and she pretends to wipe it away.

  “I like weird,” he replies. “I think I’ll keep her.”

  Our plates are slid in front of us and in seconds Kira has the foil from around her tacos unwrapped and she’s digging in.

  “Hungry?” I jokingly ask.

  “You have no idea,” she mumbles around a mouthful.

  I make a mental note to pick up some groceries for her—stuff that’s already made she can pop in the microwave. I don’t like the idea of her being hungry, especially pregnant.

  “You know,” Fox begins, “it’s pretty crazy that we’ve only been here like six months, seven, whatever, and you got a girlfriend,” he points his fork at Hollis, “and you got a baby on the way.” He then points at me. “What’s in the water here? Should I be afraid to drink it?”

  Cannon snorts. “Rush lives off alcohol and he’s still going to be a dad. I think your theory is moot.”

  “Moot?” He repeats. “I thought it was mute? Like a mute point?”

  “It’s moot. Moot point. Google that shit,” Cannon tells him, typing something on his phone.

  “Who are you texting all the time lately?” I ask him.

  He looks up.

  “You got a girl now, too?” Fox asks in a disgruntled tone. “Am I going to be the only one left single?”

  Cannon shakes his head and sighs. “You know how my sister was sending me dick pictures?”

  “Yeah,” we all reply.

  “Well,” he starts, clearing his throat. “Every time she sends one I send a picture of a pussy back.”

  I laugh. “That’s amazing.”

  “Dude,” Fox scolds, looking unusually angry. “That’s gross. Don’t send that shit to your sister in retaliation.”

  Cannon sighs heavily. “Cats. I send her a picture of a cat.”

  He turns his phone around and sure enough below a picture of a pathetic looking dick and balls is a picture of a cat. It comically looks like the cat is jumping up trying to grab the dude’s balls. Too bad those claws can’t perform some manscaping.

  “Why do guys send these kinds of pictures to girls?” Cannon asks, shaking his head. “Is romance dead?”

  “Are you Mister Romantic now?” I ask him. “These are pretty good,” I add to Kira. “I won’t be needing your tacos.”

  “The tacos are still better,” she says back.

  “All I’m saying is, it’s gross—and if I was home, I would make sure these fuckers stopped harassing my sister.”

  “Such a dad,” I mock him.

  “Make fun of me all you want,” he tells me. “I’m your favorite friend.”

  “I can’t argue with you there,” I agree, pointing at him. “Even if I want to bash your head in most of the time.”

  “Jeez, if he’s your favorite and that’s how you feel I don’t want to know what you want to do to me and Hollis,” Fox jokes, tearing into his quesadilla. The guy always eats like it’s going to get off his plate and run away from him.

  When dinner’s almost over I order more tacos for Kira to-go, as promised.

  The others head out, leaving the two of us alone. She starts to scoot away from me now that there’s more room, but I wrap my arm around her and pull her back against me.

  “Rush,” she exhales, trying to get away from me again.

  “Am I really so horrible you don’t want to touch me?”

  Her eyes won’t meet mine. “That’s not the reason.”

  “Then what is?” I question, desperate for answers. She has me twisted in knots and she doesn’t seem to care.

  She swallows thickly, looking away from me.

  I grab her chin in my hand, rubbing my thumb against the indentation she said she hated, but I love.

  “You make me want things I’ve never wanted before.” Her voice is soft, so quiet I’m not sure I’ve even heard her correctly.

  “Like what?” I hesitate to ask.

  Her brown eyes meet mine, soft and warm like the perfect shade of hot chocolate.

  “Comfort in someone’s arms, safety, instead of only pleasure.”

  Her words hit me hard, because day by day I feel it too. The draw to her, to only her. How I wake up and she’s my first thought, instead of work, or the gym, or going out. Everything I’ve done lately has revolved around her. It’s not because of the baby either, I only just learned of that. But I have this need to see her happy, to make her smile. She’s closed off and cold at times, but those moments of warmth she gives me, a true insight into who she is and not who she projects … lately I live for those moments, and it was painful when she ignored me, because what I’d been desperate for was yanked away from me suddenly. Perhaps Cannon’s right, maybe I am an addict, addicted to booze and women, but now I have a new vice, an even scarier one—one with the power to crush me. I don’t want to even think of it, to give it power, but it’s staring me there in the face. Her. How I feel. But I choose to ignore it. The only thing I have left anymore is the power to protect my heart.

  A throat clears and I let her chin go, my fingers feeling chilled to the bone, like I’ve stuck my hand in the freezer and left it there.

  “Here you go, sir, and your ticket.” The waiter leaves me with a check for our food and the to-go bag of Kira’s beloved tacos.

  I add a tip and sign the check, before sliding out of the booth. I loop my finger through the bag and Kira stands. She looks at me carefully, studying me, and it’s unnerving.

  I’m afraid I admitted too much after her confession—not in words, but in my expression.

  I loved my parents completely, with my whole heart, and it crushed me when they died. But they didn’t leave me by choice. It’s terrifying to think if Kira and I were more than … whatever it is we are … if she chose to walk away, she’d take with her the last of my shredded heart.

  Then there’s the child growing inside her. My son or daughter, whom I already feel a connection to—one that will only grow more prominent once they’re here in the world.

  Two opportunities to lose myself completely stand in front of me.

  I should walk away and never look back—to protect myself, what’s left of me anyway.

  But I can’t. Maybe I’m weaker, or possibly stronger than I believe, but regardless, I can’t help thinking a world of hurt stands ahead of me.

  21

  Kira

  Rush has grown unusually quiet and introspective as we walk out of the restaurant.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, grabbing onto his arm to keep him from walking ahead. My to-go bag of yummy tacos dangles from his finger.

  He forces a smile. “I’m great.”

  “Liar,” I scold in a joking tone.

  His lips twitch. “Don’t worry about me. It’s my mind, as usual, dwelling on things it shouldn’t.”

  “I know how that is,” I exhale loudly. I spend way too much time thinking of things I believed I had put to rest. “Give me your keys.”

  “My keys?” His brows crinkle together and I itch to reach up and smooth them out.

  “Your keys,” I repeat, opening and closing my hand in silent demand. “You had a drink. I’m driving.”

  “Hell no.” He shak
es his head adamantly. “You’re not driving my truck. You won’t even be able to reach the pedals. Besides, it was only two beers. I’m fine.”

  I stick out my tongue. “I’m not that short, and if you think for a second it would be okay for you to drive our child because it was only two drinks,” I mimic, “you’re sorely mistaken, buddy.”

  He swallows thickly, looking slightly chagrined. “Fine.” He shoves his empty hand into his pocket and pulls out his keys, depositing them in my waiting hand. “Don’t hurt my baby.”

  I roll my eyes at his dramatics. “I’m carrying your actual baby. Relax.”

  I push the button to unlock his truck and he mopes as he gets in the passenger side. I clamor into the driver’s seat. Since he’s practically seven-foot there’s no way my short legs are reaching the pedals, so I have to adjust the seat.

  He grins, suppressing a laugh as the seat slowly moves toward the wheel.

  “Stop laughing at me,” I admonish. “I can’t help it, I’m short.”

  “I think it’s cute,” he remarks.

  “Still mad at me for confiscating your keys?”

  “A little,” he admits, “but it’s worth it to see you drive my truck. It’s kind of sexy.”

  “Kind of?” I raise a brow as my foot finally connects with the gas pedal.

  “It’s incredibly fucking sexy,” he relents. Lowering his voice, he leans over the center console, brushing my hair away from my shoulder. He skims his nose against my cheek. “You make me so confused,” he growls. “One minute I want to run the other way from you, the next I want to fuck you senseless. You make me uncertain about everything. I don’t like it.”

  My breath leaves me in a shaky gasp and I swallow thickly. I feel my pulse in my throat as my heart works overtime.

  Every time I convince myself I don’t feel anything for Rush, my body proves me wrong. Time and time again, my reaction to him is undeniable. It’s chemical, something that exists on a level I’m not sure I’ll ever understand.

  The two of us are wrong for so many reasons.

  But it takes finding only one right reason to change everything—I think both of us are scared to look, to give in.

  “Rush—”

  “Don’t say anything,” he begs, his eyes pleading with me. “Don’t.”