by Cari Quinn
“Just because I’ve moved into the other bathroom doesn’t mean I hate that one.”
“No? Seems like it to me. I believe the words ‘toxic waste dump’ were used last week.”
Her lips twitched. “Being honest doesn’t mean I hate it.”
He started to smile back, then a wail sounded from down the hall. They both froze, gazing at each other for an instant before launching themselves at the door. He got there a stride before Lila and ushered her out, following her downstairs to where Charlie was now lying on her back on the kitchen floor, crying with laughter while Klepto bathed her face with his giant lolling tongue.
“She tried to ride the dog,” Gray said apologetically, making Nick snort in spite of himself.
“Didn’t manage it, huh, crazy girl?” He scooped Charlie up off the tiles and swung her into the air above his head, letting the music of her manic baby laughter wash over him and ease away all the tension in his muscles.
Tension that, yeah, he would’ve relieved in the sweet haven of Lila’s body back in the day. But their lives were different now. He wasn’t supposed to just think of getting off, he was supposed to think about her needs. Not sexually, but in general. That maybe she wanted a foot massage rather than getting down on her knees for him, though he’d happily do the same for her.
Christ, she just looked so tired. The last thing he wanted to do was to be a burden on her in any way, ever. So even if she mentioned fucking, unless she crawled him like a damn stripper pole, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe it was just one more thing on her endless To Do list. One more task she was doing out of habit and duty rather than genuine lust.
He’d give anything to see genuine lust in her eyes again. Anything at all.
“Daddy!” Charlie knew the instant his attention wavered and she was not having it. “High! High!”
“Yes, ma’am.” He swung her through the air and down low to the ground, pausing long enough to collect Avery. Her face was smeared with grape jam and her eyes went to saucers as he lifted her into the air as well. The girls gripped his forearms with their tiny fingers and shrieked, competing to prove who could produce the most ear-splitting screeches.
Grinning, he turned to where Lila had been and found an empty doorway.
“She said something about needing a shower,” Gray said from where he leaned against the counter, shoveling half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich into his mouth.
Which actually looked pretty damn good.
“Make me one of those.”
Gray cocked his head, dangling the remnants of his sandwich from two fingers like he might to tease Klepto. “What word do you say first?”
“Pweese!” The twins echoed in unison, making Nick laugh so hard that he had to set them down on the floor to catch his breath.
Maybe his relationship with their mother had hit a briefly bumpy spot, but his daughters definitely were trucking right along in their development.
So what if he didn’t know how to reach Lila and his balls were shriveling up prematurely? Things could always be worse.
The afternoon and evening passed quickly. By the time he and Gray had finished working on their song, and Nick had fed the twins a semblance of dinner and settled them in front of the TV with an old episode of Blues Clues, he was starting to worry about Lila. He’d been half tempted to go look for her—especially when she didn’t come to collect the girls from the studio as she usually did, claiming the wailing guitars were bad for their hearing—but he figured maybe she needed some time to herself. Easy enough for him and Gray to keep an eye on the girls while they messed around on their instruments.
Besides, the whole musical process seemed to fascinate the girls. All it took was a couple of pots and pans and a wooden spoon, and they were content to bang away in their version of accompaniment.
Nick was pretty sure they were prodigies. He would’ve gotten them into music lessons as soon as possible, if he didn’t wake up every night in a cold sweat that either one or both of them would want to join a band.
He knew what went on in bands, and nope, not happening. Not his precious little girls. He’d lock them in the basement his house didn’t have first.
“You two stay here and be good for Daddy, all right?”
Just in case being good for Daddy wasn’t enough to motivate them, he decided to throw in a little fear.
“If you two so much as move a muscle from those spots, Santa might not come. He only visits nice, well-behaved little girls and boys.”
Which was a total lie, since Santa had already bought his pants off and the proof was stashed in closets and under beds all over the damn house. But his parents had used that trick on him when he was a boy—before his mom had split anyway—and it had worked. Especially on his twin sister, Ricki. She’d always been perfectly behaved from Halloween to Christmas, just in case.
Neither of the girls looked up from their laser-like focus on the TV. Avery clutched a sippy cup of juice and Charlie was dragging her finger through a container of applesauce while she watched the show, which meant it would probably be all over the floor by the time he returned.
A fast check of the room ascertained that all the plugs were covered, the breakables were too high to reach, the dog and cat were asleep, and there were no toxic substances anywhere near the twins. He wouldn’t be gone more than fifteen minutes.
Maybe twenty, depending on if Lila was in the mood to make their quickie a little more…involved.
It wasn’t like they would be far away. In fact, he’d just turn on one of the baby monitors that Lila had in practically every room of the house, and then they wouldn’t miss a thing.
Mommy hearing was a thing, but so was Daddy hearing. He could pick up one of his girls even thinking about getting into mischief from upstairs, no problem.
Eh, hell, he was going for it. He missed his wife. Something was up with her, and he was going to find out what. There was a reason she’d been wearing his bathrobe and the sexiest damn shoes he’d ever seen.
He wasn’t above sensual torment to get the truth out of her. In fact, he relished the prospect.
And if either of the girls did anything the slightest bit naughty while he was upstairs drilling their mother, he intended to stick them both in their playpen. Possibly for life.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he sucked in a breath. He stopped at the doorway to the bedroom, narrowing his eyes on Lila, curled up in the center of their bed.
She was sound asleep, still wearing his robe. The robe he’d been sure she couldn’t stand to see hanging in the bathroom.
Though he leaned inside to flick on the baby monitor on the table, he was already debating going back downstairs. She had to be exhausted, and the girls couldn’t be left alone for long.
He gripped the doorframe, half in and half out of the room. He wanted nothing more than to crawl in with her and just spoon or something. Or spork. Even if sex wasn’t on the agenda, he didn’t care. Not right then.
What he cared about was making sure they were okay.
Walking carefully, he approached the bed. He was about to climb on it when he remembered his shoes. Not something he worried about overmuch, but Lila did. He toed them off and eased onto the bed beside her, propping his head in his hand so he could play creeper spouse and watch her sleep.
Of course, he couldn’t be that close and not touch. Just a skim of his fingers through her still wavy hair, over the delicate shell of her ear and the dainty pearl earrings dangling from the lobe. Along her neck, so soft. So much fragility contained in a hard as nails package. Rarely, her vulnerability poked through.
Like now, when she was at ease. Her pale lashes fluttered against her cheeks and her rosy lips tugged down in a frown even in sleep. He inched closer, giving in to the urge to press his face into her hair. The comforting scent of apples wafted over him and he shut his eyes, curling in.
He got probably two minutes before she stirred.
“Nick?” Her sleepy voice woun
d around him as she rolled over, her brows pinching together. “What’s wrong?” She rose up on her elbows. “Is it the girls?”
“No, they’re fine.” He hoped.
He nudged her back down, and she went, but her frown remained. “Then why—” She fell silent, and he swallowed over the rock in his throat.
“Why am I here? If you have to ask that question, lady, we’ve got a problem.”
Her chin wobbled for a fraction of a second before she firmed it. “Is Gray gone?”
“Yeah, he took off. The girls are in the living room, but I have that thing on.” He jerked a chin toward the monitor near the door. “They were too busy snacking and watching TV to think about causing trouble.”
“Avery, maybe. Charlie, on the other hand, can’t be trusted for a minute.” She started to swing her legs out of bed, letting out a noise as he clamped his arm around her hips to hold her still. “Hey there. Handsy much?”
“Hell yeah. I’m touching what’s mine.” He yanked her against him and bit her shoulder through the robe. “You gonna tell me why you were wearing those heels under this robe earlier?”
And wearing his robe at all, but one question at a time.
He lifted his head and noted her feet were now bare. In spite of barely being able to see it, he knew pale pink polish adorned her nails. No wild color choices for Lila.
“I just bought a new pair. I wanted to make sure they fit.”
“Not your usual style, babe.”
“So? Can’t I branch out? Widen my horizons a little?” She kicked out and none too gently connected with his shin. “I’m not just a mother, you know.”
“No, you’re also the hottest Dragon Lady I’ve ever seen.” His teeth grazed the side of her neck, and she huffed out a laugh.
For a second, he thought he’d reached her. Delved past the layer of frost meant to keep him at a distance. Why, he wasn’t sure, but it seemed to be her natural reaction lately if he caught her off-guard.
Then she turned her head and pinned him with her laser-like gaze, the same expression he’d faced a million times across a conference table. First, during the months where they’d been at odds about how to deal with what he saw as his band, his responsibility, then for the days and weeks while they’d been falling in love in secret.
She didn’t spare him from her professional wrath. If anything, she sharpened her claws more when he was in her sights. They both enjoyed going for a little blood. That she was currently on her back with his arm holding her down didn’t lessen the fearsome gleam in her eyes the slightest.
“Speaking of work, there’s been a slight change in accommodations after the show at The Greek. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Tell me about it. Which sucks for the girls, but we’ll do the concert and haul our asses back here. Figure I’ll get Simon to help me put that life-size dollhouse thing together so they can open it when I get back. Simon eyes the box every time he comes over, so might as well get him to help me. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna try to fit into it himself, but—” Nick broke off as she wiggled out of his hold and sat up. “What now?”
“The change in accomodations is that Ripper Records is putting you up in a hotel near the venue, since there’s a strong likelihood the show will run late. In a venue like that, it would be great if you guys considered doing an encore jam session with Warning Sign. It would really raise their profile.”
He was glad he was still on his back, because otherwise he would’ve lost his breath. “Repeat that for me,” he said, voice low. “Tell me how you don’t want me here on Christmas fucking Eve with my girls.”
When she didn’t speak, he raised up on his elbows. “Or wait. You’re bringing them for the night? You’ll come too?”
“No.” Her answer was too swift. Too clipped.
Something niggled along his spine, but he ignored it in favor of focusing on his frustration.
“It won’t be for long,” she continued. “Donovan’s jet will bring all of you back early the next morning. You’ll probably be home before the girls get up. You know they don’t really understand all of what’s going on with Christmas yet.”
“No, but they understand more than they did last year, and fuck, Li, they aren’t going to be this age again.” He rolled off the bed. “What are they going to think if they wake up and I’m not here because I was off playing rockstar?”
She pushed a hand through her hair. For a second, he actually thought it was trembling, then he decided that couldn’t be true.
Lila didn’t ever doubt herself or her decisions. At least outside of the bedroom. That was the one place she still had insecurities, though he would never understand why.
Other than it harkening back to her dickhead cheater of an ex-husband, and if so, Nick doubly wished he could kick the bastard’s ass.
“They won’t think anything. It’s just a few hours, and we’ll make it up to them. Please.”
His frown grew at the undercurrent of need in her tone. “Li?”
She rose and faced the window, leaving her silhouette outlined in moonlight. “Just trust me on this, all right? It’ll mean a lot to Warning Sign, and you’ll blow the roof off the place.”
“And you won’t be there to see it. It’ll be our freaking road manager.” Nick balled his fists and shoved them in his pockets. “Without you there, what’s the point?”
“You’re doing it for us. Trust me,” she said again, and the hitch in her voice sold him on it when he wouldn’t been otherwise.
For whatever reason, whether it was pressure from Donovan or just her desire to maximize Warning Sign’s exposure, she was determined the band stay away overnight. Why they couldn’t just catch a flight back when the concert ended, he didn’t know.
“And you think the rest of the band will be okay with this?”
“Margo and Simon are.”
“Oh, so you asked them first. Good to know where I rank.”
“Don’t make this more than it is, Nicholas.” Eyes pleading, she turned toward him.
Her vulnerability squeezed the air out of his windpipe, and the objections out of his head.
She’d asked him to trust her, so he would. By God, he would.
“First thing the next morning,” he gritted out. “I’ll be right back where I belong.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Right back where we belong.”
Chapter 3
Backstage was a freaking zoo.
Nothing new about that. Oblivion had done more than their share of shows, from small bars to huge arenas. They’d played all over the United States at this point, and even done a few shows overseas though they’d yet to tackle their first major world tour.
They all had young kids at home—except for Simon and Margo—and the travel and insanity from doing an extensive leg outside the States was more than they wanted to deal with yet. But fans were clamoring for Oblivion to set up an extended run outside the country, and Lila and Donovan were paying attention.
That particular concern wasn’t for tonight. Nope, tonight all they had to do was to follow up Warning Sign’s incredible set with some magic of their own.
And if they were all a little on edge because Oblivion’s last show at The Greek had included a minor meltdown from Simon, none of them were acknowledging it. At least not openly.
Besides, from what Nick had seen so far, Simon was perfectly fine. His best friend seemed wired, and a wired Simon meant very good things on stage.
Simon would kick ass. They all would.
“I’ll do the ball. Seriously. Just let me in it.” Their pixie drummer Jazz bounced up and down on her toes. “If West Reynolds can launch himself into the audience, so can I. It’d be amazing.”
“Not sure I’m okay with you launching yourself anywhere.” Her husband Gray rubbed her shoulder. “Is that ball even safe?”
“Of course it is. You’re protected inside. Besides, no one would drop me. Can you hear that crowd out there? They fucking love us.”
Off to
the side of the area where the rest of his band was waiting their turn to go onstage, Nick tuned them out and let his fingers wander over the strings. Oh, to have Jazz’s faith. Not just when it came to rolling around in giant plastic balls—like bloody hell—but in general. She was pretty much the poster child for effervescence.
Meanwhile, Nick’s gut was tightening up the closer it got to show time. Right on cue.
Jazz had been the one to help him with his jitters way back in the day, in the current lineup of the band’s early beginnings. Her method had definitely been non-traditional, but Nick had used it long after his blink-and-you’ll-miss-it thing with their drummer ended. Shortly thereafter, she’d married Gray, and Nick had gone on to employ Jazz’s form of pre-show therapy with a succession of willing women.
So when a short hot pink miniskirt swam into his line of sight, followed by the brush of fingertips along the back of his neck, his first thought was Jesus, not again.
“Hey baby. You looking for a good time before you go on?”
Nick swallowed a sigh. Some chicks just didn’t get the message he was happily fucking married. The tabloids and their salacious stories didn’t help on that score. He didn’t know who had originally leaked the tidbit about his preferred way to destress before a concert, but he’d happily wring their neck.
“How the hell did you get back here?” Avoiding the girl’s gaze entirely, Nick glanced around the crowded, chaotic area backstage.
The rest of his band was deep in conversation, clustered tightly together. They were used to Nick needing some time to himself before taking the stage, so no one was paying him any mind. The assorted crew and assistants were all rushing in a million directions at once, shouting instructions and making last minute adjustments.
So much for security.
“It’s easy enough if you know how to blend in.”
Nick raised a brow and chanced a glance at her. Her top resembled a fisherman’s net, exposing more skin than was hidden. “Oh yeah, you’re practically a modest mouse.”
