Turn up the Tempo (Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 4)

by Charli B. Rose

  I never typed a message with the images. He sent me random images back. I was grateful for the contact with him. He said he was happy to at least be on my mind even if I wasn’t sure I wanted him there. He was trying really hard to grant me the space I’d asked for. His patience was greater than mine would be in his shoes.

  That’s why, ten minutes ago, I sent a message without a picture.

  Me: I miss you.

  It was a confession. A hundred percent true. Even if I wished I didn’t.

  Brooks: I miss you too, angel.

  Me: Can I see you?

  I was finally ready to see him. The days and nights without him had been terrible. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say when he arrived, but I missed him too much to care. I needed to see him. Maybe sharing air again would give my head and heart clarity.

  Brooks: Of course. Where are you?

  I responded with a photo showing soft sand, rolling waves and the private boardwalk near Dawson and Izzy’s house. Hopefully he’d recognize it.

  Brooks: On my way.

  I dug my bare toes in the sand, enjoying the feeling of the grains sliding across my skin when I wiggled my feet. The ocean rolled out, then back in. It was a reliable entity. I could count on it to advance and retreat. I could trust it to follow the pull of the moon. If only hearts were as dependable.

  I wondered how long it would take him to get to me. I hadn’t bothered to ask him where he was. I probably should’ve entertained the possibility that he’d tell me he couldn’t come. Maybe there was a hint of reliability in hearts after all.

  The air on the beach changed, and I knew he’d arrived. I didn’t turn in his direction, but I heard the light thump of his steps on the boardwalk. I remained still, my gaze trained on the ever-dependable sea. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him remove his boots and socks. Then he rolled the bottom of his jeans up a couple of times. With purposeful steps, he erased the few feet of distance separating us.

  He stopped behind me. My hair fluttered in the breeze. My knees were drawn up, and my arms were wrapped around them, hugging them. I didn’t turn to acknowledge him. Tension subtly eased out of my shoulders. My breathing pattern changed at his nearness. And my poor heart sped up, so excited to be close to him again. I couldn’t stop the slight lift to my lips.

  “Mind if I sit down?” he asked in that sexy baritone, sending shivers along my spine.

  I patted the spot beside me, and he sank to the blanket. The heat of him seeped into me even though we didn’t touch.

  He mimicked my pose and stared out at the waves. I remained quiet, not knowing what to say. I must have been silent so long that he finally decided to speak his own truths.

  “You know, I don’t know that I’ve ever admitted this out loud, but I’m sure anybody who knew me back then would’ve been able to analyze me and reach the truth. But it took me a long time to really figure it out. I’ve never done the whole relationship thing, so I am terrified of failing at it. I’ve mostly seen love fail. Dawson and Izzy are the only success story I’ve witnessed.” He glanced my way.

  The thought of someone as amazing as Brooks being denied love hurt something deep inside of me. I swiped the corner of my eye but kept quiet.

  “When I was really young, I thought my parents were so in love.” He gave a wry chuckle. “It wasn’t until I was about eight years old that I started to realize they never had a good marriage. My dad was a cop. The job was really stressful for him, so he drank. They argued. He was never violent or anything. He just wasn’t what Mom needed. He cheated on her for years. I don’t know if she turned a blind eye or really didn’t know. But when I was eleven, Dad got shot. It wasn’t too serious, but he had to take leave from the job for a little while. After he’d been laid up at home for a few days, Mom had to leave him home alone to go to the store. When she came back, she wasn’t surprised to see her best friend’s car in the driveway because they usually had lunch together a few times a week. What she was surprised to see was Amelia sucking Dad off in my parents’ bed.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never told anyone that before. No one knew I’d overheard Mom spilling the story to my grandma after my parents split.”

  Beside him, I drew in a sharp breath. Unconsciously, I leaned against him. It was a small shift, but one he seemed happy to accept. He planted his hands behind his body, positioning one behind me, then he leaned back on his arms.

  “Anyway, my parents divorced after that. My mom was devastated. She became depressed. Started drinking, self-medicating. She stopped living. She loved my dad so much, even after all he’d done to hurt her. Then, a few years ago, she started forgetting things. Ultimately, she forgot they were divorced. Each time I had to tell her the truth, Mom’s heart broke all over again. And so did mine.” His eyes were glassy.

  I let go of my knees and stretched my legs out alongside his. I nestled into his side. I wanted to reassure him of my presence and give him the courage to keep going.

  “When my parents first divorced, I promised myself that I’d never love like my mom did. I’d never let someone into my heart so completely they could destroy me. I know that’s how most children of divorce feel at least at some point. But later on, each time I had to pick my mom’s broken pieces up and hold her as she cried over the failed marriage she’d forgotten about, it fortified my resolve. And I was doing so well. I was content with casual. At least, I thought I was. Until you. I say all of this because I’m guessing your story is similar. I’ve heard you mention your parents, and I met your stepdad with your mom at the wedding reception. But if I can get past my parents’ divorce enough to try, I think you can too,” he explained, a note of pleading in his tone.

  I sadly shook my head, wishing our stories were as similar as he thought. Divorced parents might have been easier to cope with and get over. He’d given me his truth; it was time to give him mine. Swallowing hard, I forced air in and out of my lungs. “I can see why you’d think that. But that’s not my story,” I whispered, the wind trying to snatch my words. “My parents had a love like Dawson and Izzy’s. It was so amazing to grow up with that much love. I just knew one day I’d have that too. And I could hardly wait. I imagined my fairytale all the time. My prince. Our wedding. Our children. A beautiful future.” I grinned.

  My heart soared at the memories. Then it plummeted because I knew what happened next. “Then my dad died, and so did a piece of my mom.” I swiped my hand across my eyes. My voice trembled when I spoke again. “My mom was so lost the first year after his death. She barely existed. Didn’t leave the house, never smiled. Her laugh was gone. I was essentially an orphan. Eventually, she met Bob and found love again. But sometimes it still seems like the light in her eyes isn’t as bright without my dad. So, I threw away my silly notions of fairy tales and happily ever afters. I decided I never wanted to be so wrapped up in someone else that I lost myself. And I haven’t.” I turned my head and looked up at him. “Until you. And it scares me more than I imagined. Because it would be so easy to lose myself in you. To give you all of me.” He already had me. I was just in denial.

  Hope filled his eyes and a smile threatened to break out on his face. “Give us a shot. Please, angel.” He sat up and wrapped his arm around my waist, drawing me more into his warmth.

  I was about to destroy that hope and make him take his warmth away. A tiny bit of my heart withered at the prospect. “I really want to. So much. My heart wants that more than anything. But the logical part of me thinks it would be pointless because neither of us has ever done a relationship before. And I worry about how much we both love sex. We’re both used to being able to go get it whenever we want. The number of opportunities you have with other women is astronomical. And it’s only going to increase when you move to Vegas.” I tipped my head back so I could look up at him. “I’ve seen what’s out there. Not to mention all the chances you’ll have whenever you go back out on tour. I mean, you have women saved in your contact list based on your frequent tour stops.” My shou
lders slumped in defeat as I laid out all the reasons we wouldn’t work. Before he could argue with me about them, I dropped my final truth bomb. “Besides, I’m leaving in a few weeks. I’ll be on a cruise ship for up to six months. And if that works out, there may be other opportunities with the cruise line. So, you see, it wouldn’t be smart for either of us to risk our hearts right now.”

  My eyes glistened, making him appear blurry as I gazed at the man who’d captured my heart.

  “Everything you said about me is true. Or it was true about the old me. I have a confession. Once I realized I was in love with you, I deleted every female contact from my phone who wasn’t family or work-related. See for yourself.” He held his phone out to me.

  I took it and scrolled through his contact list. It was considerably shorter. While I looked at it in amazement, he continued with his plan to obliterate my arguments about why we wouldn’t work. “As for loving sex, I love it with you. I haven’t hooked up with anyone but you since weeks before the AMA’s. You were too far under my skin and in my heart for me to go there. At the party after the awards show, I was planning to take both those girls to bed in an attempt to erase you. I thought they’d help me forget. And seeing you with Wilder that night really made me want to annihilate the memory of you and our one night together. But I couldn’t. I wound up sending the women home in a cab,” he admitted.

  He couldn’t have shocked me more if he’d confessed to being Santa Claus. A tear overflowed my lower lid. He caught it before it could streak down my cheek.

  “Why are you crying, angel? I thought knowing I wasn’t interested in meaningless sex anymore would make you happy.” He sounded so worried.

  “It does make me happy,” I said, my tears flowing faster than he could stop them now. I sniffled.

  He tugged me across his legs and into his lap. I snuggled into him, accepting comfort I didn’t deserve.

  “I feel awful. Seeing you with those two bimbos at the party was the only reason I was ever with Wilder in the first place. It was you I wanted. And when it seemed you’d been unaffected by our night, I was crushed. I needed to wipe away the remnants of you. Replace you with someone else. It didn’t work though. And all I wound up doing is hurting you, Wilder and myself.” I hiccupped.

  Using his thumbs, he swiped away all the moisture on my face. “Don’t cry, angel. I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. Wilder’s cool, so don’t worry about him. Just try … with me. We’ll figure things out as we go,” he vowed.

  “OK,” I whispered. And for the first time ever, I allowed hope to really entwine around my heart, wrapping it fully.

  Chapter 36

  Brooks

  The past ten days had been pure bliss. Brittany still wasn’t completely sold on being an actual couple, but I hadn’t given up on convincing her. And I wouldn’t.

  ♪ I Choose You by Sara Bareilles

  We’d spent pretty much every night together since our talk on the beach.

  Except the past three. Mom and Bri arrived in town early, so I’d been helping Mom settle in and staying with her. I didn’t want her to be confused. They weren’t supposed to get into town until next week, but some mix-up happened with the assisted living home, and Mom needed to check in this week. It kind of messed up my attempts at proving to Brittany that I could make her first in my life.

  Their untimely arrival caused me to have to cancel my romantic date with Britt. I was supposed to take her to the Russian ballet last night. She’d been looking forward to it for days. It was my easy gift for her in case the other one backfired.

  Now, not only did I need to make it up to the love of my life that I’d canceled on her, but I also had to make today epic. I’d never done Valentine’s Day before. In the past, I’d always hidden away in a hotel room or my apartment, never wanting any woman to feel special that she’d gotten my time on the romance holiday.

  It was now or never though. Quietly, I eased into the backyard. Lyric was flopped down on the deck, resting. “Lyric, come here, girl,” I called softly, patting my thigh to get her attention.

  With a tiny yip, she scrambled over to where I crouched down. I weaved a rose stem through the unused holes in her collar. A note was tied to the stem. It simply said, I’m sorry.

  I tucked the wiggly pup under my arm. I wedged the rest of the bouquet of roses under the same arm. Then I let myself in the back door. Each stem had a note tied to it. Britt’s text message earlier let me know she was going to soak in the tub using the bath bombs I’d had delivered yesterday as part of my apology for canceling. She’d spent the past few days working on routines for the cruise line’s show. Her goal was to show up with a routine that bridged the decades and genres. I’d only seen a little of it, but what I had seen was amazing.

  I creeped halfway up the stairs, listening intently to confirm her whereabouts. Soft music flowed from the guest bathroom. I slipped a rose stem from the bundle and laid it in the doorway. I missed you.

  Reversing directions, I began placing roses in various places. On the landing of the stairs. You’re amazing. At the foot of the stairs. You waltzed into my heart. Standing in an empty bud vase on the table by the stairs. You changed my life. A stem along the back of the couch. You opened my heart. One across the center of the kitchen counter. You’re my favorite flavor. One down the hallway, tucked between a picture frame and the wall. You own my heart. Another in the threshold of the door leading to the basement. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. A flower halfway down the stairs. Are you sick of my sentimental drivel yet? One at the bottom. I need you, angel. And finally, one on the couch cushion where I planned to be waiting. I love you.

  I hurried back up the stairs, rounded the corner, darted up the steps to her second-floor bedroom door. I set Lyric inside and nudged her in the direction of the en suite bathroom. “Go find Britt,” I urged her.

  I didn’t wait around to see if she did. I hauled ass down to the studio and settled my guitar across my lap. My breath froze in my lungs so I could listen for her graceful steps. Anticipation skittered along my skin, making my foot start tapping out a rhythm to some yet-to-be-written song. This girl. I shook my head.

  Steps sounded on the landing at the top of the basement stairs. Anxiously, I watched, waiting for her to appear. Long, tone legs came into view first. They were bare. Then the hem of her fluffy robe was visible. Finally, I could see all of her. She was a vision on the last step, her robe cinched around her waist, hair hanging loose, a handful of roses clutched under her chin.

  The most beautiful smile beamed at me from across the room. I started strumming. Slowly, she made her way over to the couch and picked up the last rose. Her eyes filled as she read my final note. I started singing, pouring my heart and soul out through my lyrics. The words I’d written about the angel who’d captured my heart and opened it to love. My own personal gift from heaven.

  ♪ Angel by Shaggy

  When I finished, I rested my palm against the strings, stilling them. Her eyes glistened with emotion.

  “In case you didn’t realize it, I wrote that song for you. Actually, I’ve written three songs for you. But that was the first one I started. The first lyrics I’ve ever written in my life,” I confessed.

  Tears flowed. “In answer to your question, no I’m not sick of your sentimental drivel at all. Matter of fact, I love it. Like I love you,” she whispered.

  She’d finally said it. I was hearing the phrase for the first time from someone who wasn’t family, friend or fan. “Say it again, angel,” I rasped.

  “I love you, Brooks. I have for a while now. I was just scared.”

  I set my guitar to the side and removed the roses from her hands. I dragged her onto my lap. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive. And don’t worry. We’ll figure out what to do while you’re away for six months. Maybe I should book a six-month cruise,” I teased.

  “Let’s not even think about six months yet. No need to jinx things. My contract is for six
weeks. Then they’re going to re-evaluate. I’m trying not to hope too much. I’ve never been employed as a choreographer before, let alone a lead one. They might decide not to keep me,” she said.

  “You are amazing,” I said with so much conviction. “They’re going to love you and want to hire you for every cruise production.”

  “Well, if it doesn’t work out, I thought about trying to get a job teaching at either Dub’s studio or at Gravity Dance Complex. And I’m pretty sure I can keep doing music videos,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously.

  “You do have options. But I need you to promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “No more sexy, lap dance, stripper kind of videos. I can’t promise I won’t punch someone if that happens again,” I growled.

  She threw back her head, and a throaty laugh came out. “I think I can arrange that. You know the video for Juice isn’t going to show my face.”

  “It’s not?”

  She shook her head.

  “Thank God. Not that your face isn’t stunning. I just don’t want every pervert who’s going to jack-off to you dancing to be able to do it while picturing your face,” I said in a rush.

  She threw her arms around my neck, the force of her hug knocking me backward. Something sharp dug into my ass as her lips landed on mine.

  “Hang on,” I panted, leaning to the side, while holding her steady with one arm and trying to reach whatever I’d sat on.

  My fingers closed around a small box. I pulled it from behind my back. Holding it out, my hand quivering with nerves, I offered the shiny, silver box adorned with black stars to Britt.

  “What’s this?” she asked in a whisper.