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

by Micalea Smeltzer

  She blanches and takes two steps away from the baby like she could get pregnant just from being near him. “Nope, no way. Not happening.”

  Hollis grins at her, his curls flopping into his eyes. “What? You don’t want little mini-Hollis’s running around? I think they’d be cute.”

  “They might be cute, but your sperm is not fertilizing one of my eggs any time soon.”

  Hollis busts out laughing. “One day, then.”

  She smiles back at him. “One day.” She nods her head in agreement.

  “Y’all are weird,” Calista snorts. “Let me hold the baby. That’s what we’re here for, right?”

  For the next hour Phoenix is passed to each of our friends before he finally demands a boob to be fed on. It’s pretty hilarious when he tries to latch onto Cannon who immediately shoves him into my arms and says, “Take this.”

  This, not him. It’s hilarious seeing the normally most-together member of the band lose his shit over a baby.

  They leave and it’s only Rush and I with the baby once more.

  Our family.

  He curls his large body into the bed with me as much as he can and the two of us stare at the beautiful innocent life we created. I lean my head against his shoulder and close my eyes for a moment, relishing in all the gifts I’ve been given.

  You can choose to focus on the bad, all the wrongs that have been done to you, or you can rise up from the ashes like a phoenix and choose a rebirth instead.

  “I love you, Phoenix,” I murmur, and lower my head to kiss his tiny wrinkled forehead.

  Thank you for saving me. For saving us.

  “You know you have to put the truck in drive, right?” I question Rush as he sits at the hospital entrance refusing to drive away.

  I sit in the back beside Phoenix in his carrier. He sucks on his green binky and his eyes flutter behind closed lids in a beautiful and peaceful dream world.

  “Yeah, I know—but fuck, I’ve never driven with a baby in the car before. This is scary.”

  I laugh. “We’ll be fine. My place isn’t too far.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Rush, we can’t stay parked outside the hospital all day.”

  He exhales a breath. “You’re right.”

  “I know I’m right.” I grin at him in the rearview mirror and he slowly, blessedly, pulls away.

  Rush looks back at us every few seconds, driving at a snail’s pace.

  “We’ll be lucky to be at my apartment by next week,” I remark casually and he huffs a breath.

  “I’m driving precious cargo here.”

  When cars start honking, he realizes he can’t drive at his slow pace and starts going the speed limit.

  He parks the truck on the street when we arrive and helps me out. I wince, holding my stomach.

  “You okay?” he asks, holding my arms to steady me.

  “Yeah, just sore.” I give him a smile, showing him I am okay. Childbirth is hard and my body has been through hell. Not only did I labor for hours, but I had to get cut open too. Thankfully, the band the hospital gave me to wrap around my abdomen has helped a lot.

  Rush reaches inside the car and lifts the car seat from the base.

  I notice my car is parked back in its normal spot. I don’t know who brought it back here from Starbucks but something tells me it was Hollis and Mia.

  Rush and I take the steps up to my apartment slowly and I give him the keys to unlock the door.

  Inside, he carefully extracts Phoenix from his seat without waking him up and hands him to me.

  My apartment is stuffed to the brim with baby items and it’s a reminder of how small this place is and how desperately I need to move.

  I rock back and forth with Phoenix in my arms. I don’t even know why I do it. It feels natural, though.

  Rush stands with his hands on his hips, his head lowered.

  “Rush,” I hesitate. “Is something wrong?”

  He lifts his impossibly blue eyes to meet mine and I see worry and fear in them. My heart braces for what he might say, what I fear he’s going to say.

  My mind yells at me that he’s backing away, that he’s about to tell me he can’t do this, but my heart tells my head to shut up and stop being a liar. I know Rush. I know his heart, his soul, his very essence and I see how much he loves Phoenix. Whatever is bothering him has nothing to do with what my mind wants to think it is.

  He swallows thickly and pulls something from his pocket, dropping to one knee.

  My heart skips a beat, and my eyes widen with fear as he opens the small black jewelers’ box in his hand.

  “Kira Elizabeth Marsh, I fucking love you. You’re my person and I never want to be separated from you ever again. I want you by my side always, not because I want to keep you caged, but because I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You set me free, and I think maybe I’ve set you free too. I fucking hope so, at least.” He pauses, swallowing thickly. I swear I can see his pulse racing in his throat. “This is a promise for a future together, a life, a happy ending. I want you to move to L.A. with me, to live with me. I want us to be a family completely. You can go to school there if you want to get your nursing degree, or fuck—open a bake shop if that’s what you want. Whatever it is, I’ll support you one-hundred percent. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours.” He inhales a breath and lets it out slowly. “Say yes, Kira. Say yes to our future, to a home, to a life, and to a promise that one day when you’re ready I’m going to get down on one knee and put a fucking ring on your finger.”

  My eyes overflow with tears and they wet my cheeks as I gaze at the key in the jewelry box. Phoenix stirs in my arms, like he knows I’m an emotional wreck, but I’ve never in my life been this happy.

  I’ve always been tossed aside, forgotten, a burden—something in the way, as easy to get rid of as a piece of trash.

  But I’ve found my worth, and I’ve found my love.

  “Yes,” I croak and Rush’s grin lights up his entire face.

  He stands quickly and grabs my face, pressing a bruising, passionate kiss to my lips. Phoenix lets out a cry in my arms, not liking being caged between the two of us.

  Rush grabs the house key from the jewelry box and places it in my palm, curling my fingers around it.

  “To our future.”

  “Our future,” I echo.

  And what a beautiful thing it’ll be.

  Epilogue

  Rush

  One month later

  I pull into the driveway of the Spanish style bungalow on the outskirts of L.A. We came here straight from the plane and Phoenix sleeps peacefully in his car seat in the back of the car. I don’t know how we got so lucky, but he’s truly the best baby.

  “What do you think?” I ask Kira hesitantly, nervous for her reaction.

  I bought the house sight unseen just from the pictures online and then hired an interior decorator to make sure it was furnished and ready to go when we got here. It was pricey, but my parents’ house sold quickly and for a decent buck, so it made the perfect down payment.

  She looks at me in awe. “It’s perfect, Rush. More beautiful than I imagined.”

  She hasn’t seen pictures or anything. She told me she wanted to be completely surprised and that she trusted me.

  We’ve come a long fucking way.

  “Should we go inside?” I suggest with a raised brow.

  “Yes,” she cries, squeezing my arm. “I’m dying to see more.”

  She scurries out of the car and goes to get Phoenix, but I grab his car seat before she can. That thing is fucking heavy and awkward and she doesn’t need to carry it no matter how stubborn she is. I also grab Patch’s carrier—I hope he likes L.A. At least he’ll have more freedom here than in a hotel room.

  We walk up the brick pathway to the front door. It’s rounded on top with a little window in the middle.

  “Got your key?” I ask her.

  She grins and pulls it from her pocket. From it, a keychain dangles
with a picture of the two of us on one side and one of Phoenix on the other.

  She slips it into the lock and pushes the door open.

  Inside, the home is open with wood floors, wooden beams, and a creamy off-white paint. The furniture is all neutrals and dark woods. I felt like that was more us. There are some baby items already set up in the living room, which boasts a sectional couch in front of a fireplace with a big flat screen TV.

  I needed a big fucking TV, what can I say.

  I set the carrier and car seat down, unzipping the carrier to let Patch run free through the house, before I gently extract Phoenix from his car seat. He fusses a bit, but the minute he nuzzles my neck he calms right down.

  In the past I thought I’d hate being a parent, but I love it. I was meant to be a dad, and Kira was meant to be a mom. It’s sad to think if we’d never met this might never have happened for us.

  “I want to show you his room.” I reach for her hand and she fits her slender hand into my massive one.

  I worked the hardest with the interior designer on his room. I wanted it to be perfect for him and Kira, something special and more than she could’ve ever dreamed of having.

  I lead her up the stairs and down the hall, swinging open his bedroom door. Light streams in from the backyard where a tire swing sways lazily in the wind.

  The walls are a soft gray I think the interior designer called dove gray or some shit. The wall with the crib has a gray, black, and white wallpaper she insisted would look chic. I didn’t care as long as the end result was fit for my future rocker. Or basketball player. Or scientist. Or whatever the hell he wants to be when he grows up.

  Kira walks over the crib, running her fingers over the black frame of the modern crib. She spins in a circle looking around at the changing table, rug, giant stuffed black dragon in the corner and all the other items, like the play mat and bouncer.

  “You worked really hard on this didn’t you.”

  I shrug. “The designer and her team did all the work.”

  “But this is you. It’s us. It’s perfect.” Tears fill her eyes. “What did I do to deserve you?” She closes the distance between us and rises on her tiptoes to kiss me.

  I wrap one arm around her waist, keeping a careful hold on Phoenix with the other.

  “You love it? You love the house?”

  “I love you.” She pokes my chest. “All this,” she waves her hands to encompass the room, “it’s just a bonus. You’re all I need now. You and Phoenix.”

  “I feel the same.” She smiles and I swear I’ve never seen her happier. This last month of us adjusting to being parents has been ridiculously blissful. I’d tell someone to pinch me, but if this is a dream I never want to wake up.

  I know my battle with alcoholism will never end, it’s always going to be a fight, but the thought of losing them trumps my need to turn to a bottle of alcohol.

  Kira curls into my body and leans her head against my chest peering at Phoenix.

  I rub my thumb against her arm, never wanting to let go of the loves of my life.

  And I don’t have to.

  They’re my forever, and forever starts now.

  Read Mia and Hollis’s story now in

  Wild Collision

  He was a beautiful nightmare.

  Mia Hayes is comfortable with her life as it is.

  Boring is good.

  Boring is normal.

  Boring is safe.

  But the thing with boring is it makes temptation all the sweeter.

  She was a sweet dream.

  Hollis Wilder goes a hundred miles an hour after everything he wants.

  Fast is fun.

  Fast is crazy.

  Fast is dangerous.

  But the thing with fast is it keeps you from thinking before you act.

  Together they were the notes in their favorite song.

  When Mia and Hollis collide—literally—music’s new bad boy can’t help but notice the beautiful red-haired woman with soft curves. She calls to him like a siren, and since the word no isn’t in his vocabulary he’s determined to get what he wants.

  The problem is, one night won’t be enough, and the fact that Mia is his mentor’s daughter complicates things royally.

  Mia’s the one girl that’s off limits, but she might be the only one he wants for real.

  Bring Me Back Blurb

  If you loved Blaire, Ryder, and The Paper Crane Project pick up Bring Me Back today.

  Note From The Author

  I could have put the typical blurb here.

  Boy meets girl.

  They fall in love.

  Live happily ever after.

  The end.

  But this isn’t that story.

  Excerpt from Desperately Seeking Roommate

  Enjoy an excerpt from my next release, a romantic comedy, Desperately Seeking Roommate.

  Expected release: April 2019

  WANTED: A ROOMMATE

  Requirements

  1.Don’t be a smoker. That’s gross.

  2.Don’t be a jerk. I have no time to deal with your mood swings.

  3.Clean up after yourself. Is it really so hard to put dirty clothes where they belong?

  If you meet these qualifications, call me.

  Sincerely,

  Desperately Seeking Roommate

  When I put the ad in my university’s newspaper, the last thing I ever expect is for the star football player to respond.

  From what I know of him, Abel Russo is a womanizer and an absolute jerk.

  Sadly, he’s the only thing stopping me from being evicted by my annoyingly gleeful landlord.

  It should be easy enough—there’s no chance we’ll fall for each other. But then he gives me lingering looks, and I might just be looking back.

  All I wanted was a roommate, but I’m about to get so much more than I bargained for.

  Add on Goodreads

  1. Lou

  “I can’t believe I have to do this,” I sigh, staring at the ad I’ve typed up.

  “It’s not like you asked your landlord to be King of the Douchebags and raise your rent,” my best friend Miranda chimes. She’s lying across my bed on her stomach, swiping madly on Tinder. I don’t know why she likes the stupid app. I find it insulting more than anything. The one time I used it I got a message within five minutes of a dick with a bow wrapped around it. I immediately replied that was not the gift I was asking for at the moment, thank you very much.

  She turns her hazel eyes to mine and heaves a dramatic breath. She reaches past me and pushes the pad on my laptop, sending the ad through to our university’s newspaper.

  I cry out, hands fumbling toward my laptop. “Miranda, I wasn’t ready! I needed to proofread it again.”

  “You would’ve been here all day reading it and then talked yourself out of posting it. It needed to be done.”

  She rolls off my bed and strides over to my closet door, swiping through the clothes on the hangers.

  Miranda is the first friend I’ve ever had who I could share clothes with. I’m short and curvy—or what most would call plus size—and most of my friends growing up were either thin or average-sized. I always felt like the odd duck out, until Miranda and I met during English 101. Neither of us are from Winchester—I came from the southern part of Virginia to here in the north, and she ventured all the way from Delaware to here.

  Somehow, we ended up sitting beside each other in our English class and the rest is history.

  She holds up an oatmeal colored over-sized sweater. “Can I borrow this?”

  “Sure,” I reply with a shrug, shutting the lid on my computer. With a groan, I stand up, stretching my stiff muscles. I’m twenty-one going on eighty. If I’m sitting or in any position for too long my limbs lock up despite my nearly daily yoga routine. It’s ridiculous.

  “Thanks.” She drapes the garment over her arm. Her dark brown curls swing around her shoulders. With her father being Hispanic and her mother Asian, the girl is th
e epitome of the word unique. She’s stunning and I tell her all the time, but she never believes me because of her size.

  I don’t know why us bigger girls have to be shamed by society. We’re normal-sized—I’m sorry your media standards are candy-cane stick thin. I’d rather eat them than look like one.

  “I wish you could move in with me,” I whine, as she goes back to flipping through my closet. I’ve been pouting about this fact for a solid week—ever since I found out rent was going up and I was no longer going to be able to afford my two-bedroom apartment in the historic district. The idea of living with a stranger isn’t appealing at all, and since I have no time to spare, I have to be open to a guy for a roommate too.

  The prospect of going to pee and falling into the toilet doesn’t sound like my idea of getting wet, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and I need a roomie stat.

  She sighs, her lips twisting downward in genuine apology. “I know, babe, but I just re-signed the contract on my apartment. There’s no way I can get out of it. Living here would be so much nicer. My place is a dump.”

  She lives in an older apartment beside the small airport of privately owned planes. I still don’t know how I lucked out getting my cute place downtown—but right now I don’t feel so lucky and want to punch my landlord in his smug face. He’s young, probably late twenties or early thirties, and inherited this building over the summer when his grandpa passed away. Now, the greedy bastard wants to make more money off broke college students like me.

  “Does this match?” she asks, pairing the sweater with a maroon skirt that ends above the knees with buttons down the front.

  “Yeah, it’ll be cute,” I tell her honestly. “But … what do you need it for?”

  Color blossoms across her dark skin. “Charlie asked me out.”