One Hundred Lessons (An Aspen Cove Small Town Romance Book 15)

by Kelly Collins

  "You're probably right. I imagine he has a line at his front door while he escorts the flavor of the day out the back. He's probably in Doc's stocking up on protection."

  "Do you think he gets a discount for ordering in bulk?" She imagined a room in his house delegated to groupies. One wall was stocked floor to ceiling with condoms, and the only other thing in the room was a bed.

  "Don't tell Bowie because he's the only man for me, but if I was single … I'd stand in line. I mean, can you imagine the skills he must have? They say practice makes perfect."

  "That kind of practice keeps doctors busy prescribing antibiotics." She couldn't believe she said that out loud.

  She and Katie looked at each other and busted out in laughter. "I like you, Mercy. I wish I could offer you a job, but Ben takes all the hours here." She glanced across the street. "Rumor has it that Phillip and Marge are selling the Corner Store, but there aren't jobs there until there's a new owner."

  "They're leaving town?"

  "It's not public knowledge, but they're getting on in years, and the store is a full-time job for both of them. I heard they were buying an RV and traveling." She reached up and took a pen and a sticky note from the basket hanging on the wall. "Fill out your wish, and let's see what happens. This town is a place of miracles."

  The door opened, and Alex looked behind him like he was being followed, but no one entered.

  Mercy tucked her head down and wrote.

  I need a job … any job.

  Mercy

  Katie stood behind the counter and gave Alex her big-as-Texas smile while he ordered several muffins, cookies, and brownies.

  From beneath her lashes, Mercy chanced a few glances his way. This couldn't be the drummer from the band. He went straight from the cover of Rolling Stone to GQ. She would have thought the haircut would make him look older, but it didn't. He looked more refined and less bad boy, but the smile he gave Katie as he paid said his haircut didn't tame him.

  When he turned to walk away, she tucked her head down.

  "Holy hell," Katie said after he left. "He's hotter now. I love a good man bun, but those eyes could hypnotize a girl, and that smile even made my ovaries do a double flip, and I'm married to the hottest guy in town. No wonder women throw themselves at Alex."

  Mercy took a five from her purse and set it on the counter. "It was good to get some time to chat finally. Let's do coffee again." Despite the black cloud continually hovering overhead, Katie was a ray of sunshine. Everyone needed sunshine in their lives.

  Katie pushed the money back toward her. "His smile was payment enough. It makes me feel like giving everything away for the day."

  Mercy went back to the table and tacked her wish to the wall. "He's okay, not really my type."

  "Oh, honey, don't lie to yourself, Alex Cruz is everybody's type."

  Chapter Four

  "Three more pairs of underwear and a cake with, 'Call Me,' written across the white frosting, were in my fence or by my fence this morning."

  Gray chuckled. "I had a naked girl on my hammock asking me to be her baby daddy, but when I walked out the back door and she saw it was me and not you, she said I'd do in a pinch but wanted your address to see if she could upgrade."

  "You're kidding."

  "No shit, man. These women are crazy for you. The only good thing is, now that the stalkers have arrived, there are more women in Aspen Cove."

  Was it true that there were only a few single women between the ages of legal and dead? If so, that had to be a blessing because women were nothing but trouble.

  "The bad news is we might get chased out of town by the residents who aren't used to, let's call them music enthusiasts."

  "The deputy sheriff didn't seem to mind when I called this morning and had him pick her up. Dude's name is Merrick, and he's as big as a house. He didn't intimidate the woman, though. She offered to get warmed up with him."

  "He can have her and her ticking clock lady parts. I'm not going to be anyone's baby daddy. I've avoided parenthood up to now, and I'm not going to screw it up with a one-night stand." Alex's outer voice always managed to keep the inner one in check. There had been times when he saw a child playing and felt the tug of want, but "the apple didn't fall far from the tree" was a saying for a reason.

  His father wasn't ever around, and his mother was a drunk. There was no love between them because he never changed his lifestyle when he got her pregnant. He'd done the right thing and married her, but that only gave her hope he would come home and be a husband. Dad was married to the music, and Mom to a dream.

  They finished laying down the track Gray wanted to re-record and went their ways.

  His stomach growled. Yep, just like his dad, putting music first and forgetting about everything else, including food.

  He hopped in his car, a brand-new navy-blue SUV, and drove straight to Maisey's who could silence the tummy grumbling quickly with her blue-plate special.

  When he walked inside, he scanned the nearby tables. He spotted a blonde who didn't look like his usual type of follower with her makeup-free face and ponytail. Her look screamed librarian with her floral skirt and sensible shoes.

  Intrigued, he moved in her direction, and the closer he got, the more familiar she became. She was the pink panty girl—the one who couldn't decide if she wanted to leave them or take them.

  Engrossed in a book, she didn't notice his arrival until he slid onto the bench across from her.

  Her eyes snapped up and opened wide, the look on her face was shocked. He didn't know her, but by the recognition in her expression, she knew exactly who he was.

  "If you're missing your pink panties, I found them."

  She opened, then closed, and then opened her mouth again.

  "Who are you?"

  He leaned over the table. "Take a closer look darlin', you know exactly who I am." Then he pushed back until his spine flattened against the back of the booth. "What do you get out of leaving your underwear on my fence? I have to say, you don't look like the type."

  She took three breaths and appeared to grow with each one. "You mean, a big-boobed, botoxed bimbo?"

  Seemingly affronted by his accusation, he wasn't sure if her agitation came from getting caught or being categorized as one of many.

  "See, you do know me."

  "Hardly. And I don't know what you're talking about. My underwear is on my person, and the only time I take them off is for laundering."

  "You don't know what you're missing." Initially, he intended to shame her for her behavior, but now he was egging it on.

  She crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. "Would that be gonorrhea?"

  "Never had it. Never will. Safety first and fun later." He slid from her booth. " You are a young, attractive woman, and you should be having more fun." He turned and walked away. Shit, that whole exchange sounded like a pickup when it was the opposite.

  He moved several booths away and sat so that he faced her. With her long blonde hair and sweet country smile, she wasn't his usual devotee. He attracted women who were a tad higher maintenance. Her description wasn't too far off.

  Maisey moved toward him at lightning speed. She didn't have to look where she went because she walked through the restaurant like it was a memorized maze. She said, with her eyes on her order pad, "What's it going to be." She glanced up. "Holy hell, what happened to your hair?"

  "I imagine it's on its way to some woman who needs a wig." That made cutting it off worth it.

  She stared at him for several seconds, then smiled. "I like it. It suits you."

  He raked his hand through it. It would take a lot of getting used to, but it was easier. All he had to do was shower and add some hair gel, and he was set. His longer hair took hours to dry.

  "What do your friends think?"

  "They think I look like a little league coach."

  "Honey, if there was a little league coach who looked like you when Dalton was growing up, I would have been the team mother." She
tapped her pad. "Blue-plate special?"

  "Yep, that's how I roll. I'd love a glass of water too."

  She scribbled his order on the pad and took off with her white loafers squeaking with every step.

  He stared at Blondie in the booth. He hadn't noticed the crayons on the table or stacks of cardstock. She was entirely focused on her project and not him. Maybe he was wrong about her being the one who left her pink underwear. If she were a fan, she wouldn't ignore him. Instead, he'd be calling Merrick to get her removed from his booth.

  A few minutes later, Maisey delivered his plate of chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans smothered in butter. He lifted a bite to his mouth and caught the blonde woman looking, but she immediately lowered her head.

  A blush rose from her neck to her ears—cute ears with a single pearl in each rather than the big O hoops. Deanna's voice came into his head, The bigger the O, the bigger the ho. Now that would be a song to write.

  He did his best to ignore her, but each time he glanced her way, he found her looking back. It wasn't with adoration, but something that looked like confusion.

  The bell above the door rang, and he turned to see a woman and a small child enter. The woman in her thirties glanced his way and marched toward him.

  She looked familiar, and so did the kid, but he couldn't place either. She stopped in front of his table and stared.

  "You won't remember me, but maybe you'll remember her." She yanked a picture of a dark-haired beauty from her purse. "You and Layla hooked up in Madison while you were on tour."

  The woman in the picture had eyes the color of robin's eggs and a mouth that … yep, he remembered her. She also had a drug problem. After their second night together, he found her in the bathroom with lines of the white stuff.

  She showed up at several of his concerts after Madison, but he had her escorted out. He didn't do drugs, never had, and never would.

  She tugged the little girl forward, so she stood in front of him. Her eyes weren't like her mother's, but a combination of green and blue.

  His heart stopped beating long enough for his head to spin. Her eyes were just like his.

  "Why are you here?" He prayed the little girl was hers, and they were passing through, but he knew better. She entered the diner on the hunt, looking for him, the prey.

  "This is Madison, and she's yours."

  His world tumbled off its axis. "How do you know?" The words came out without thought.

  "Because she said so." She pointed at the picture. "Layla was a lot of things, but she was never a liar."

  The woman opened her bag, which was large enough to hide a body. She pulled things out as Mary Poppins did. First was a manila folder, next was a small photo album. He looked at the little girl again. Really seeing her this time, he noticed the small teddy bear she hugged to her chest and the tiny wheeled suitcase sitting next to her—things he hadn't seen when they arrived.

  "What do you want? Where is Layla?" He had so many questions. His eyes drifted to the blonde in the booth, who'd taken a keen interest in what was happening.

  "Her mother is dead." She leaned in and whispered. "Drug overdose."

  That didn't surprise him. "Again, what do you want?" He imagined this was an extortion attempt.

  "Nothing. I'm doing what I told Layla I would do if anything ever happened." She looked at Madison. "She left behind directions, if you know what I mean."

  Holy hell, she killed herself. This was his worst nightmare—life repeating itself. "Why?"

  "She was a mess."

  "Because of me?" His throat tightened.

  "Drugs, depression, and a diagnosis of breast cancer," she said. "No insurance, no money, no hope."

  "Was any of this my fault?" he always felt responsible for his mother's death. She died the first year he went on tour. He was another man who had let her down.

  "Don't be so arrogant. You were a blip on her radar. If she hadn't found that fan's site which listed your digs, Madison would have gone into the system, but now she'll go with you."

  "What? I can't…" He stared at the little girl who bit her lip and looked ready to burst into tears. "I'm not ready to be a dad."

  "No one is." She opened the folder. "Here's her birth certificate. You're listed as the father, so there are no custody issues. Layla left you a letter." She touched the photo album. "I gathered the pictures I found. It would be nice if you could help her remember her mom."

  "You're leaving her with me?"

  "Yep, I've four kids of my own, and my mother won't watch them forever." She laid her hand on Madison's head. "She's smart but behind in her learning. Layla wasn't much into school, so she didn't have a lot to offer." She kneeled, so she was in front of Madison. "Hey, Maddie, girl, this is your daddy. He's going to take really good care of you."

  Madison or Maddie started to whimper. "I want to go with you."

  "Sorry, kid, we don't always get what we want." She kissed the top of her head and stood.

  She turned and glared at him. "Don't be a shit to her. She's had a rough life already. Make it better." She spun to walk away.

  "Wait. What's your name?"

  "Doesn't matter." She walked out of the diner.

  His heart raced while his stomach flipped. What the hell was he supposed to do? He didn't want a kid and had no idea what to do with one. The tiny whimper he heard seconds ago coming from Madison turned into a full-blown cry.

  He had no nurturing skills. Absentee dads didn't raise sons who would become the father of the year.

  "Madison, you need to stop crying."

  The little brown-haired girl with his eyes looked at him and cried harder.

  "Madison, please stop crying." He attempted to move out of the booth toward her, but she stepped back.

  "I'm not going to hurt you." That was a damn lie. He'd never physically hurt her, but it was in his genes to fail at parenthood. That's why he never ventured into long-term relationships. His career of choice made it hard to establish trust.

  "Maddie," he said, and she stopped the sounds even though her tears still fell. "Is that what you like to be called?"

  She nodded.

  He’d only heard her say a few words. The woman who brought her said she was behind in learning. He didn't even know how old she was.

  "Have a seat, and we'll get to the bottom of this." He pointed to the bench across from him, but she didn't move to it. Instead, she turned her suitcase on its side and sat on it.

  Maisey swung by. "Who's this little beauty?" She stared down at Maddie, who was in the middle of the path.

  "Apparently, she's my daughter."

  Maisey dropped her order pad. "Oh my. What are you going to do?"

  What was there to do? As far as he knew, the kid could be anyone's. He wasn't the only man in the world with hazel eyes and brown hair.

  "First, I'm going to read the letter her mother sent, and then I'm going to get proof."

  Maisey leaned down to pick up her order pad. "You hungry?" she asked Maddie.

  Maddie nodded. "I wike chicken."

  "So, she talks. That's a plus."

  Maisey scowled at him, then turned back to the child. "Nuggets and fries it is."

  He opened the folder and found Maddie's birth certificate with him listed as the father. Madison Alexandra Cruz was born five years ago on June 10th. He pulled out his phone and scrolled back in his calendar. Nine months before June would have been September.

  That feeling of falling raced through him. On September 18th, he was in Madison, Wisconsin.

  Fear clawed past his belly and crawled into his heart. There was a reasonable likelihood Maddie was his.

  His fingers shook as he took the letter out of the envelope.

  Axel,

  I never asked you for anything until now. Take care of my baby.

  Layla

  "What the hell?" He looked down at Maddie, who clutched her teddy bear like it was the only thing she had left on earth, and by the looks of it, that mig
ht not be far from the truth.

  Chapter Five

  Mercy watched everything unfold. A rock star. A child. A dead mother. Her heart ached for the little girl. She considered how terrifying it must be to be shoved in front of a stranger and told, "he's your daddy."

  As a first-grade teacher, her business was children. She loved them all—even the little heathens who stuck boogers under the desk. Children were programmed to mimic their parents. The thought of Alex Cruz being this child's role model made her cringe. He was an arrogant asshole, and that was the impression she got after a few minutes. How would she feel after an hour? Two? A day? A month? Perfect smiles, hot bodies, and full, no doubt, soft lips might satisfy a woman short term, but they weren't the qualities needed to raise a child—a child obviously traumatized by her mother's death.

  Maddie's despair pulled her like a magnet to a fridge. She slid from the booth and inched toward her, so she didn't startle her.

  "Hey, you?" Lowering to her haunches, she smiled. "How about we get you seated at the table? I bet your nuggets and fries are almost ready."

  Maddie looked at her with eyes that could melt the heart of the hardest man, and Mercy hoped they would soften the hard expression on Alex's face.

  She held out her hand, and Maddie stared at it warily.

  "It's okay," Mercy said softly. "Everything is going to be okay." She knew when her students were troubled, all they needed was a hug and someone they could trust. "Do you need a hug?"

  Maddie inhaled a shaky breath. She lifted from her seat on the Disney Princess suitcase and fell into Mercy's arms.

  Holding Maddie made her realize how much Randy had stolen from her. She should have had her own child by now but would have to settle for loving everyone else's.

  Mercy stood, holding Maddie and her bear in her arms. "I've got crayons at my table. Would you like to see them?"

  She felt the nod against her chest. Hugging Maddie close, she walked to her booth and sat her in the seat in front of her current project.