Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Pineiro, Charity

  “I have to get it. I can’t turn him away now.” Rachael moaned as he swirled his fingers along the seam of her jeans. “Give me two seconds!” she called out, though she wasn’t sure exactly who she was talking to.

  “Rachael?” Joey said, trying the handle. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes!” She stopped the door with her heel and leaned over to snatch her sweater off the floor. “One second!” She shoved it over her head. “Don’t move,” she whispered to Cole. “Not one muscle.”

  “I’ll try, but there’s one muscle that’s got a mind of its own.”

  Giving a visible shudder, Rachael tugged the sweater down her stomach. She let the door creep open and stood in the entry, blocking Joey’s view.

  * * *

  Rachael didn’t give Cole the chance to get his shirt back on or get out of the way. He was stuck. To go upstairs, he had to cross the foyer. To sneak into the dining room and kitchen, he had to do the same.

  “Hey Joey!” she said, leaning against the door to completely obstruct his view. “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought you these.” He handed her a dozen yellow roses. “I felt bad about rescheduling our date earlier and thought I’d come by to apologize in person.”

  “Oh!” She patted her hair, smoothing the strands he’d messed up by tunneling his fingers through it; pride streaked through him. “That was nice of you. Thanks.”

  “Are you…” Joey paused. “…drunk?”

  She giggled, burying her nose in the flowers. “I went to Shots for a drink after you canceled.”

  “From the looks of it, I’d say you had more than one.”

  Cole straightened against the wall.

  What was this guy’s deal? He wasn’t her father or her boyfriend. What did he care where she went or how many drinks she had?

  “Caught me red handed.” She put her hands up as if she was held at gunpoint. “One turned into four. How many have you had?”

  “Me?” Joey laughed. “None. I came straight here after the fire.”

  Rachael shifted her weight from one foot to another. “How was it?”

  “The fire?”

  She was damn cute when she was tipsy.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I hope no one got hurt.”

  “No one was injured, but the Robertson’s lost their home. They’re devastated. I was the last one to leave. I couldn’t bear to turn my back after they’d lost everything they owned. I offered to take them to a hotel, but they said they had family coming to help them.”

  The guy was a real life, rush into burning houses kind of hero. And what did Cole do? He sang songs about those kind of heroes.

  Quite the difference.

  “Seeing a situation like that makes you appreciate the good you have in your own life, you know?” Joey went on. “It makes you realize what you want and what you’re missing, and I’m missing more than I thought I was.”

  “I understand,” Rachael said. She seemed to sober quickly, steading herself as her movements slowed. “When you see a family who’s lost everything, the things that really matter become clear.”

  Joey cleared his throat awkwardly. “Makes a man want a nice woman to come home to.”

  Cole had to give it to the guy—he had skills.

  “Aww, that’s very sweet of you,” she crooned. “Whatever woman you end up with will be lucky to have you.”

  “Maybe I could—” Joey began.

  “The Robertson’s have always been the nicest people,” she interrupted, sagging against the door to block his advance. “I’ll have to invite them to stay here until their place is rebuilt.”

  “I actually suggested that, but they said they’d stay with Chase, their son. Do you remember Chase? We went to school with him.”

  She nodded and her voice softened. “Yeah, I remember. I sat next to him at graduation. I wish there was more I could do.”

  “It’s not like they could stay here anyway,” Joey said. “I hear you’ve booked up every room for the rock star.”

  She started to turn toward Cole, but stopped short. “Yeah, he’s rented the entire place.”

  “Bet you can’t wait to get rid of him, huh?” Joey said, half-laughing. “You hate rock music.”

  Play up the hero act, run the singer through the mud. Way to fight dirty, Fireman.

  Rachael shuffled her foot along the wood floor. “I haven’t heard him play, actually. He’s been keeping quiet.”

  “Well, he’ll be gone soon enough.”

  “Yeah.” Rachael kicked her heel against the door. “You’re right. He’s leaving Sunday for a show in Tahoe.”

  “If I were you, I’d keep that guy at arm’s length. He’s from a whole different world than we are. He’s a different breed, probably counting his money as we speak.” Joey paused, taking Rachael’s hand. Cole couldn’t see what happened, but the muffled sound of lips smacking against skin gave it away. “I, on the other hand, am going to count the minutes until our date Sunday night.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  As she shut the door, Cole wasn’t sure whether Rachael was going to want to pick up where they left off, or call it a night.

  “Where were we?” He stole behind her and took the flowers from her hand, dropping them to the floor. Nuzzling against her neck, he wrapped his arms around her waist and suckled her ear lobe into her mouth.

  “Cole,” she said, and it was all the invitation he needed.

  He spun her around and pressed her back against the wall, humming low in his throat as his mouth found hers once more. With one touch of her lips, the fire that’d been burning before rekindled. It was so easy to get lost in her, in the moment, and the chemistry between them.

  “Cole,” she whispered again, the sweet sound of her voice music to his ears. “Can we take this slow?”

  “Slow?” He slid his hand down to the button of her jeans. He tugged slowly, gently, until it popped free. “I can go real slow baby, if that’s the way you like it.”

  She caught his hand. “Joey’s a good guy…”

  “If you say so.” He kissed the smooth slope of her neck and swirled his tongue round and round against her skin. “But are you really going to kiss me and talk about him?”

  She shook her head. “What he said was right. You’ll leave Sunday and never look back.”

  “You knew that already,” Cole said, peeling his mouth from her neck.

  “Yeah, but hearing someone else say it really drove it home.”

  “If you want to listen to your boyfriend, that’s fine, but what we’re about to do has nothing to do with forever, remember?”

  She looked shocked, her skin paling. “Joey’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Maybe he should be.”

  Truer words had never left his lips.

  “One part of me knows you’re leaving and screams that I shouldn’t get involved…” She rose up on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his. “…but the other part of me wants you so bad. I can’t stop myself from kissing you, from wanting you to do naughty things to me.”

  His jaw clenched so tight, he thought he heard it crack. For some reason he couldn’t explain, he didn’t want her to regret tonight…to regret inviting him into her bed.

  “Listen,” he said, his voice nearly a growl. “I’ve got no qualms sleeping with you and leaving it at that. But if this is going to be the big mistake of your life, the oh-shit moment when you slept with the rock star when you knew better, I’m not sure I want any part of it.”

  There. He mentally patted himself on the back. Way to take the high road.

  “You don’t want to be a regret,” she said softly. She paused, hesitating, scissoring her bottom lip between her teeth. “Then I think I’m going to go upstairs and take a bath.”

  He curled his fingers around her hip. “Am I invited?”

  “Not this time.”

  As she walked away, Cole’s insides wrenched. He wanted to ask her to wait, to reconsider, but he’d never begged
someone to sleep with him, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now. He clenched his back teeth so hard they hurt, and watched her disappear as she turned at the top of the stairs.

  Chapter Nine

  Rachael awoke to the soft strums of a guitar. It was raspy. Warm and soothing like a lullaby. At first she thought she’d misheard it. She rolled over, pulled the comforter over her ears and tried to go back to sleep. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t want the day to start just yet.

  She wasn’t ready to see him.

  The tempo slowed until she strained to hear one slow pluck after another. It was beautiful, lulling her into a state of peace. Her eyelids fluttered close and her heart danced.

  Had she left the radio on downstairs? It was quite possible she’d turned it on last night and forgotten about it. She wished there were other things she could forget…starting from the second she’d thrown herself at Cole, ending with the moment when she realized what they’d been about to do.

  Shoving her feet into her flip-flops, Rachael draped her robe around her shoulders and cinched the tie at the waist. She crept out the door and followed the angelic sound, down the stairs, and into the living room.

  Cole sat near the fire, his legs resting on the coffee table, a guitar in his lap. He didn’t see her at first, but when his eyes met hers, his hand flattened against the guitar’s strings and he jerked his feet to the floor.

  He’d been playing that song the whole time?

  Wow.

  She’d heard he was a talented performer, but she’d also heard that his songs lacked emotion and a personal touch. If he gave his fans a hint of that, she’d bet they’d change their minds.

  “Good morning,” she said, trying not to sound moved by what she’d just heard.

  His eyes were guarded, shadowed to a thick molasses shade of brown. “Morning.”

  “That’s a beautiful song.” She tightened her robe. His gaze followed her hands. “What was it?”

  “It’s not a song.” He set the guitar in its case and locked it up. “It’s nothing.”

  “It didn’t sound like nothing.”

  He exhaled heavily and nailed her with an irritated glare. “What’s for breakfast?”

  He must not have liked people eavesdropping on unfinished projects.

  “Corned beef, hash, and eggs. I should get started.”

  For a moment, she’d forgotten her place. She shouldn’t have come downstairs in her robe and slippers—she never did that. She must’ve been getting used to the calm and stillness of the inn without the abundance of guests walking down the halls. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to get comfortable this way. The halls wouldn’t stay empty; three couples were checking in Sunday afternoon and another handful on Tuesday.

  She ran upstairs, gathered her hair into a ponytail and dressed in jeans and a black sweater. She pulled on a pair of fuzzy socks. Brushed her teeth and splashed cool water on her face. As she raced downstairs and into the kitchen, she caught sight of the roses Joey had given her. They were on the hardwood near the front door, lying flush against the baseboard. She scooped them up, fluffed the buds and turned.

  Cole stared, a pad of paper on his lap, a pen in his hand. Only the pen wasn’t moving. His expression was blank, his jaw clenched tight. Why was he glaring at her that way? As if she’d done something wrong.

  “Breakfast will be ready in thirty,” she said, and scurried into the kitchen.

  She cut the stems short and put the flowers in a Mason jar on the center of the table. Taking two Advil from a cabinet beside the sink, she swallowed them back, and palmed four more. She set those on the kitchen table with a bottle of water. Her head was pounding—Cole’s probably was, too.

  As she set the corned beef on the frying pan and chopped bell peppers and onion, Cole entered the kitchen and slid into the seat facing her.

  “These for me?” he asked, pointing to the Advil.

  “Yeah, thought your head might hurt.”

  He didn’t respond. Had she not spoken loudly enough? Spatula in hand, she turned and met his gaze. It was questioning. Tender. Gripping her from across the kitchen.

  “Thank you.” He dropped them back and then stared at the flowers, a pained expression on his face.

  He must’ve had a headache as nasty as hers.

  Rachael took the reprieve from his prying eyes and dove into breakfast. She made a pot of coffee, flipped the potatoes and splayed three eggs on the grill. As the coffee finished brewing, she filled his cup and set it on the table, and then heaped food onto his plate.

  Cooking for one was odd. When the inn was full, she’d make a dozen eggs, three pounds of potatoes and countless slabs of corned beef. It felt much more personal this way. As if they were a couple. Husband and wife, maybe.

  She could almost picture it now: she’d get up early, start a pot of coffee and cook his favorite breakfast, just the way he liked it. He’d come in from the living room, where he’d been playing his next big hit, and wrap his arms around her as she hovered over the stove. She’d lean her head back on his shoulder. He’d tell her how wonderful breakfast smelled. How beautiful she was. They’d eat together, just the two of them, and talk about plans for the future: his next song, upcoming album, and the inn expansion.

  That all sounded great. Except for the tiny fact that there was no future with Cole. There could never be anything long-term between them. He was going to leave the way everyone else did.

  Don’t get attached. Don’t get used to his presence here.

  “I’ve never seen someone cook the way you do,” he said. “You don’t use recipes?”

  She dropped his plate in front of him. “Not anymore.”

  He pushed the Mason jar to the far edge of the table. To keep the flowers away from his food, she guessed.

  “Do you have a set menu you make every day of the week?” he asked.

  She got the feeling he was making small talk so they wouldn’t have to talk about what happened last night. It was a mighty fine idea.

  “I try not to make the same meal in a given week,” she said, “as most people stay about that long.”

  He dove into the corned beef without making a sound. Cheeks full, he mumbled, “Do you fill up here?”

  She brought over the pot of coffee for a refill, but he set his hand over his mug. Fumbling to swallow the food in his mouth, he circled his hand over his head and pointed upstairs.

  “You’re asking if the rooms fill up?”

  He nodded.

  “They’re full year round, for the most part.” She brought the frying pan to the sink and scrubbed. “That’s the great thing about Blue Lake. There’s beauty in every season. In winter, it storms pretty hard. The windows fill up with pillows of snow and Dom plows his way up and down the street. Moose Valley Ski Lodge is up the road so we have an influx of skiers and snowboarders who want to hit the slopes and stay somewhere cozy for the night. In spring and summer, the place is full of visitors from the bay area. They frequent the wineries up here and want a close place to stay so they don’t have to drive back home. There are lakes and rivers up the road that rival the most beautiful in the country. People flock to them when the weather heats up.”

  She slid the pans under the cabinet and washed off the counters. Anything to keep her eyes off Cole.

  “Sounds busy. Ever thought about expanding?” he said. “The building out back, the one on the east side of your lawn, would be perfect.”

  She spun, leaning back against the counter. Had someone told him?

  “I’m working on it, actually,” she said, and her gaze landed on his empty plate. “Do you want more?”

  “God, no.” He put his hands on his stomach and arched back, the chair creaking beneath him. “If I eat any more I won’t be able to play tonight.”

  She checked the clock on the wall. Eight a.m. Did he not plan on eating until the show? Didn’t they have dinner plans with Lucy? Not that she’d been looking forward to them or a
nything.

  “Do you own it?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “The building out back.” He drank his coffee slowly, eyeing her over the top of the mug. “Is it yours?”

  “Yeah, I’ve owned it for years.” As she finished cleaning the kitchen, she glanced out the front window. A black Tahoe pulled up to the curb. “But I’ve been stuck in Remodel Hell.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  The doorbell went off.

  “It’s nearly finished, but I haven’t had the funds to furnish it the way I want,” she said, walking into the dining room. “Until you showed up and rented every room for quadruple what I’d normally charge.”

  “Glad I could help.” He followed her through the dining room, winding around tables. “Have you ever thought about renting out that building and keeping the inn for yourself?”

  Forcing out a laugh, she strode through the living room and paused before opening the door. “There are nine rooms in this building. What would I do with that much space?

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged those big, strong shoulders. “You and your husband could stay in one, you could have an office, a guest room, and plenty of room for children.”

  “Children?” she squeaked.

  “Don’t you want kids?”

  The doorbell dinged again.

  “Absolutely.” She grabbed the handle. “Eventually. Right now that’s nothing but a dream on the horizon.”

  “You could have that dream sooner than you think.” He grabbed the handle, his hand over hers. His touch was warm, soft and consuming. For a second, she thought he might’ve leaned down and kissed her. “You could have any guy in this town.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.” She ripped her hand from beneath his. “I need to give Joey a call.”

  She left the room as Rita Flint and Cole Turner’s entire crew burst through the door. On her way up the stairs, she turned and glanced back. Cole stood beside Rita, hands on his hips, a pissed-off scowl on his face. He looked like he wasn’t listening to whatever she rambled about. He looked angry. Torn about something.

  She whistled the tune she’d heard him play earlier, all the way to her room.