With Me in Seattle Bundle One

by Kristen Proby

  ***

  “We really should get up,” I mumble and turn my face to kiss his chest.

  “Why?”

  “It’s almost noon.” I laugh.

  Leo chuckles and kisses my head. “We don’t have anywhere to be until this evening.” He turns on his side to face me.

  “What are we doing this evening?” I ask and trace the tattoo on his shoulder.

  “We have been invited to Gary and Lori’s for a barbecue with the whole crew.”

  “Oh, okay.” I sigh and snuggle deeper into my pillow, watching him. “What are we gonna do today?”

  “What do you want to do?” he asks and brushes a piece of my hair behind my ear.

  “We could go for a run,” I suggest and chuckle when he frowns.

  “Take a day off, sweetheart.”

  “Well, we could at least start by getting out of this huge bed of yours and getting some food. I’m hungry.”

  He grins wolfishly. “Worked up an appetite, did you?”

  “Come on.” I hop up onto my knees and nudge his leg. Leo’s eyes travel up and down my nakedness, and I laugh. “No more sex until I’ve been fed, Mr. Insatiable.”

  “But you’re irresistible.” He grabs my hand and pulls me back down on top of him.

  “No way, I can’t do any more of the sex stuff until I’ve had food.” I kiss him and playfully tug on his piercing.

  “Fine.” He sighs deeply, pretending to be put out.

  “Do you have food here?” I ask. We’ve grabbed food out since we’ve been here.

  “There should be some basic supplies. I had my housekeeper bring in a few things the day we arrived.”

  “Cool. Come on.” I jump up and throw a Train tee over my head, grab a pair of black lacy panties out of my bag and pull them on and walk out the door of his bedroom without looking back. “Get your lazy ass up, Nash!” I yell over my shoulder.

  “Are you always such a nag?” he yells back.

  “Yes!”

  I hear him laughing as I reach the kitchen and pull out what I need for French toast and bacon.

  He pads into the kitchen, barefoot and bare-chested, in just jeans with the top button left undone.

  My God, he’s delicious.

  He smiles smugly as I look him up and down. “Like what you see, sugar?”

  “You’re okay.” I shrug, smirk, and pull four slices of bread from the loaf.

  “Don’t stroke my ego or anything.” He laughs and takes the orange juice from the fridge, pours us each a glass, and leans against the countertop, watching me bustle about his kitchen.

  “Your ego doesn’t need more stroking. You know you’re hot.”

  He just shrugs and sips his juice. “It means something when you say it.”

  When breakfast is finished, we carry our plates and juice outside onto the patio. There are more clouds in the sky today, and the air is not quite as warm.

  “I think it’s going to rain today,” Leo comments and takes a big bite of his toast. “God, this is good. Where did you learn to cook?”

  “Mom and Dad both cook really well.” I shrug and take a bite of bacon. “They made us all learn. Earning our keep, I believe Mom called it.”

  He stops eating and frowns for a moment before taking another bite of toast.

  “What?” I ask.

  “What what?”

  “What made you frown?”

  He swallows and lowers his fork to his plate, a crease between his eyebrows. “My mom used to say that, too.”

  He’s quiet for a while, staring at his food.

  “Do you want to talk about them?” I ask quietly.

  He shrugs and then exhales hard. “It’s weird, the things that trigger a memory.”

  “How old were you when you lost them?” I ask.

  “Twelve. Fucking car accident.”

  I nod. I knew that from Meg. “What was your mom like?”

  “She was so funny.” He laughs and smiles at me. “Seriously funny. I remember laughing with her a lot, the way you and I do.”

  “And your dad?” I ask with a grin.

  “Dad was fun, too. He was the musician. He taught me to play the guitar and piano by the time I was six.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing.”

  “I preferred the guitar. Still do.” He shrugs, and his eyes sober. “We listened to Bob Dylan for hours on end. Dad had good taste in music.”

  “What about your mom? What kind of music did she like?” I love that he’s talking about his family. I have a feeling it doesn’t happen often.

  “She liked pop music. We listened to a lot of radio in the car. She had a beautiful voice.” He frowns again, and I just want to scoop him up and hold him close. It breaks my heart that he lost those wonderful people.

  “I’m sorry you lost them,” I whisper.

  “Me, too.”

  “Do you have photos?”

  “Yeah, in one of the bedrooms. When they died, all of their belongings went into a storage unit until I turned eighteen. I also got their insurance money at eighteen. So, I packed up all of their personal stuff, sold or gave the furniture away, and I’ve just kept all of their things in the boxes.”

  “You’ve never gone through them?” I ask, surprised.

  “No.”

  “Not even to find some photos or birth certificates or something?”

  “No.” He shakes his head, and his sad gaze finds mine. “It always felt like an invasion of their privacy.”

  Poor man. “They would want you to do that,” I tell him with confidence.

  “Someday, maybe.” He shrugs and then stands. “Come on, you’ve eaten. Let’s shower.”

  I know the subject is closed. My heart is full and warm knowing that he shared something so personal and sacred with me. We’ve come a long way in the past few days.

  We work together cleaning up from breakfast, and he takes my hand and leads me up the stairs toward the master suite.

  “Is your favorite color white?” I ask.

  “No, why?”

  “It’s really white in here.”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re dying to redecorate the place, aren’t you?”

  “Something needs to be done with it.”

  “I like your place,” he comments and turns the water on in the walk-in shower, adjusting the temperature.

  “You do?” I’m surprised. “You don’t think it’s too girlie?”

  “At first I did,” he admits with a grin. “But it’s really homey. Comfortable.”

  That’s the best compliment anyone could pay me about my home. That’s exactly how I want it to feel.

  I’m smiling widely at him, still dressed, as he shucks his jeans and pulls towels out for us. He turns to find me watching him and offers me a half smile.

  “What is going through that gorgeous brain of yours?”

  “Nothing.” I shrug, the smile still firmly on my face.

  “No, that smile is not nothing. What are you so happy about?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me.

  “You,” I tell him simply and kiss his chin. “You make me happy.”

  “Good, that’s the goal.” He pulls my shirt over my head and slips my panties down my legs. “Now let’s make you clean.”

  He leads me into the shower, wets a rag and lathers it up with my body wash and begins to wash me, massaging my muscles.

  Pampering me.

  “God, that feels good. You have good hands.” I lean into him and close my eyes.

  “They like touching you,” he murmurs and spins me so my back is to him and he can wash and rub my back side.

  “Seriously, if this music thing doesn’t work out for you, I’ll hire you to be my massage therapist.”

  “Good to know I have something to fall back on.” He chuckles and leads me into the water to rinse me off. “Lean your head back.”

  He methodically washes and conditions my hair, rubbing my scalp and thoroughly rinsing it clean. When he’s done, I turn to
him, take another cloth and lather it up with his cedar-scented body wash and return the favor, washing him.

  “I love your tats.” I watch my hands as they soap him up. “Mine are gone.” I wink at him and glance down at my body, the black lines all gone.

  “Mine won’t wash off.” He chuckles.

  “Good, I don’t want them to.” I spin him around so I can wash his back and his ass. “Okay, now your hair.”

  “You don’t have to wash my hair.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m a little tall.” He smirks.

  Hmm. True. He’s so tall, and I’m so short, that washing his hair will be a stretch.

  “Lift me.” I back up against the wall and hold my arms out to him.

  “Happily, sweetheart.” He plants his big hands on my ass and pulls me up to him. I wrap my legs around his waist, loving how he braces me against the wall, pinned by his lean hips. His happy eyes watch me as I soap up his hair and massage his scalp, making the soapy strands stand on end.

  “This is a good look for you,” I tease him. “You could start a new trend.”

  “Smart-ass,” he whispers.

  “Okay, you need to rinse.”

  Without releasing me, he leans back into the stream of hot water, letting it wash the soap away, then straightens and kisses me, the water from his head running in streams down our bodies.

  “I think we’re clean,” I murmur against his lips and roll my hips against his erection.

  He gasps and bites his bottom lip. “Let’s fix that.”

  “I thought the point was to get clean.” I raise an eyebrow.

  Without answering, he lifts me higher and slides inside me. “You’re so wet, babe.”

  “Yeah, well, that seems to happen a lot when I’m around you.”

  He leans his forehead against mine, our hips moving in a perfect rhythm. He presses his callused thumb against my clit, sending me over, my legs clamping around his hips, my pussy clenching around his cock.

  “Fuck, you feel so damn good,” he growls as he comes, his hips jerking and thrusting hard. “So damn good,” he repeats while he catches his breath.

  He kisses me hard and long and lowers me to my feet.

  “I spend a lot of time off the ground with you,” I comment as we rinse and towel off.

  “Complaining?” he asks with a grin.

  “Nope, an observation.”

  I comb my wet hair and blow it dry, throw on some mascara and lip gloss and follow him into his bedroom. He’s pulled on his jeans and a T-shirt, and I can’t help but be disappointed that he’s covered his tats.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks with a grin.

  “I wanted to lick your stars.” I pout, making him laugh.

  “What is it with you and the stars?”

  “They’re fucking hot. I’m not the only one. Brynna said she wants to lick them, too, and claims that she hates me because I get to lick them whenever I want.”

  “Women are weird.” He smirks.

  Just then my phone rings on the bedside table. “That’s Mr. Foss.” My stomach clenches as I look down at the caller ID.

  “Answer it. I’ll be on the balcony.”

  He kisses my forehead and lets himself out the glass door to his covered balcony as I reach for the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Williams?”

  “This is she,” I respond and pace around the room, my feet cold on the marble.

  “This is Foss calling regarding our interview from the other day.”

  “Yes, hello, thanks for calling.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have great news, Ms. Williams. We’ve decided to go with a different candidate.”

  “I see.” Why am I relieved?

  “I am certain you’ll find the position that suits you soon. Best of luck to you, Samantha.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Foss. Have a good day.”

  I disconnect the call and sit at the side of the bed.

  Now what?

  ***

  ~Leo~

  Sam is pacing in my bedroom, her phone pressed to her ear. It’s started to rain. Not a light, soft rain, but a pounding, all-consuming rain that seems to have a life of its own. It sounds like drums on my roof and almost obscures the view of the water.

  I rock in my chair, in time with the music of the rain, and think about the small woman with the enormous personality in my bedroom. She’s bloody amazing. Her strength, her big heart, her loyalty, all bring me to my knees.

  I can’t get enough of her.

  The glass door opens, and Sam slips out onto the balcony.

  “Well?” I ask.

  “They turned me down.” She shrugs, her gorgeous face sad and maybe a little scared.

  If you’ll let me, I’ll take care of you and you’ll never have to work again.

  “Come here, baby.” I take her hand in mine and pull her into my lap. She settles her cheek against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, rocking her gently. “Just rock with me for a while.”

  She smiles up at me softly, most likely remembering the last time I said those words to her and we made love in my chair.

  “I don’t know why I’m sad. I don’t think I wanted that job anyway. You were right, I don’t want to move to LA.”

  “Rejection sucks,” I mutter and kiss her soft blond hair.

  “Yeah,” she agrees.

  “I’m kind of glad you didn’t get it,” I admit. “I don’t want you to move out of Seattle either. I think I’m going to sell this place and move up there.” I frown and watch the rain around us, my mind wandering. “This place has never felt like home. You said it yourself, it’s not exactly me.”

  “Hmm…” she agrees and snuggles down closer to me. God, she feels perfect in my arms.

  “I’m tired of traveling so much. I can probably arrange it so we only tour about three months out of the year. They would be three solid months, with no breaks, but then the rest of the time I’d be able to be home. The guys would like that, too. Especially Gary and DJ, since they have families.”

  “When is Lori due?” she asks quietly.

  “Next month. We’re all getting too old for touring all year long anyway. It’s not like we need the money.”

  “It’s good that you can be choosy,” she agrees.

  I nod and kiss her again. I can’t stop kissing her sweet honey-scented hair.

  Fuck, I have it bad.

  “It’ll be good to be near Meg, too. Keep an eye on her.”

  “Wait.” She sits up and frowns at me. “Why all these big life changes?”

  “Oh, sunshine,” I whisper and smile gently. “Haven’t you figured out that I’m completely in love with you?”

  Her eyes go wide, and her hands grip on to my shirt, and for the first time since I met her, I think she’s speechless.

  “You had to know that, baby.” I kiss her forehead and cup her face in my hands. “I don’t bring women around my band. I don’t write songs for girls. I don’t bring them here. I certainly don’t talk about my family with just anyone. I love you, Samantha.”

  “Oh wow,” she whispers and drags her fingers down my face, watching my eyes with her beautiful, bright blue ones. “I’m afraid to fall.”

  “I’ll catch you, baby.”

  She blinks and swallows hard, her brain in overdrive. We sit quietly, listening to the rain, as she processes her thoughts. I expected this from her. She’s not a girl who would squeal and throw herself at me, screaming her love for me.

  That’s not how she works, and that’s just one of the many things I love about her.

  “I love you, too,” she whispers, so quietly I can barely hear her through the rain.

  I tip her chin up with my finger, forcing her to look me in the eye. “What was that?”

  “I love you, too,” she repeats, louder this time. “You scare me.”

  “Good, ’cause you terrify the hell out of me.” I laugh and pull her in. “But being without you scares me more.”<
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  “Are you really moving to Seattle permanently?” she asks, her face hopeful and happy.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re not living with me.” She scowls suddenly, making me bust out laughing. “We’re not ready for that.”

  “Last time I checked, I have my own place,” I remind her.

  “I guess this means I’d better find a job in Seattle,” she murmurs and kisses my cheek sweetly.

  “It would be convenient,” I agree.

  “What about when you’re on tour?” Her brows are pulled together in a frown, and I rub the soft skin with my thumb.

  “If you’re not busy, you can come with me. If you can’t come along, we’ll survive it.”

  She nods and smiles. “No more ugly Malibu house?”

  “No.” I laugh and hug her close. “I’m selling the ugly Malibu house.”

  “Thank Christ.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  ~Samantha~

  “You’re here!” A pretty blonde jumps out of an Adirondack chair on the patio by the pool and runs for Leo and I. “You are Sam,” she informs me and throws her arms around me, hugging me tight.

  “Yes, I am.” I look around the pool area of Gary and Lori’s gorgeous home. It’s amazing to me how quickly the weather changes down here. Just a few hours ago we were listening to the rain on Leo’s porch, and now it’s sunny and warm again.

  Lori’s laughing eyes meet mine and I mouth, “Help!” to her, but she just laughs harder.

  Traitor.

  “I’m Cher.” She pulls back and grins. “Lori was right, you’re hot. She’s hot,” she says to Leo, who is laughing his ass off next to me.

  “Yep, she is,” he agrees.

  DJ, with his tall Mohawk, joins us and wraps his arm around Cher’s shoulders. “Cher is my wife.” He grins lovingly down at her. “She’s been excited to meet you.”

  “Leo never brings women around to meet us.”

  “Really?” Leo asks loudly. “Are we going to go through this every damn time?”

  “Well, now she’s met everyone.” Jake snickers.

  “Come sit with us.” Cher grabs my hand and pulls me over to the shaded patio where Lori is resting, her hands rubbing her belly, and motions for me to sit. I look back over my shoulder, and Leo is watching me, his eyes happy.