by Layla Hagen
I caught up with her at the dining table. While she poured coffee into two cups, I buried my face in her hair. She smelled delicious, like honey and flowers.
“You drive me crazy all the time. I don’t know how you do it,” I confessed. “Before meeting you, music was the only thing that completely captivated me.”
She shimmied her ass some more, straight against my cock. I exhaled sharply.
“What are you doing?”
“A happy dance.”
“Against my cock?”
She shrugged. “It’s in my way.”
I tightened my grip on her hips, keeping her in place.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Clarke? You’re afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”
“I know I won’t.”
She dropped her head back on my shoulder, and I caught her smile. “You sure know how to make me feel good about myself.”
Her body went soft, and I took that as a sign that she was done tempting me. I released my hold on her hips. Big mistake. She turned around, putting her arms on my chest—still shimmying against me.
“Isabelle!”
“What? Still continuing that happy dance.”
I gripped her hips again, looking her straight in the eyes. “Let’s have breakfast first. Then I’ll have you.”
She shuddered in my arms but nodded. “I like how you think. We do need energy, after all.”
Laughing, I pulled out a chair for her. She sat down, and I sat next to her.
Isabelle had ordered half the menu, it seemed, but I wasn’t complaining. I was starving.
“My God, the hummus is good,” Isabelle said, munching on her bread.
“Everything’s good. I can’t believe they have pita bread.”
She grinned. “They don’t. I asked them to buy it because you like it so much. I know last night took a toll on you—party-hater and all that—so I wanted to pamper you a bit today.”
That caught me off guard. I couldn’t believe she was paying attention to all these details.
She rose from her chair, leaning over the table to where the olive spread was. I waited until she smeared some on her bread before pulling her in my lap.
She yelped, dropping her slice of bread on the plate with cheese.
“I love you so damn much,” I said into her neck.
She giggled, turning to look at me. “I love you too, but did you have to pull me in your lap right now?”
“Yes. It was of utmost importance,” I said seriously. “As is this.” I fondled her ass. “Stay here while we finish breakfast.”
“Hmm... somehow I don’t think we’ll eat too much.”
“Yes we will,” I insisted.
It wasn’t the easiest thing, especially since Isabelle kept fidgeting, testing my limits.
My phone started beeping with incoming messages as we finished. Sasha was up.
“Is something wrong?” Isabelle asked while I checked my phone for the seventh time in as many minutes. She was on her second cup of coffee.
“No, Sasha is finalizing the itinerary. Knowing her, she’ll bombard us with info and questions throughout the day.”
“She works on Saturdays?”
“Only when we’re touring. It’s an insane period.”
“I can see that. You’re already tense.” She pointed to my shoulders. “Want me to apply the special Isabelle massage to help relieve it? I’m told it’s very effective.”
“By whom?” I gripped her right thigh possessively.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear that. Sounded like a groan.” Setting down her cup of coffee, she pressed her thumb on my chin. I knew she was teasing me, but the idea of her touching anyone else was making my insides clench.
“Who told you it’s effective?”
“Well, I think Josie can vouch. Dylan too. Ian doesn’t like it, says I’m using it as an opportunity to torture him. Which I do, but shhh, don’t tell him that.” Bringing her mouth to my ear, she whispered, “But I can make it extra special for you. Make you forget all about the tour for now, while you’re still mine.”
Fuck. I hadn’t even started the tour and I already missed Isabelle.
I brought a hand to the back of her head, tilting it back so we had eye contact. I needed to ask her this.
“Would you like to come with me on the tour?”
She jerked her head back, blinking fast. “Wow.”
“I don’t want us to be separated for so long. Could you move your clients exclusively online for a while? Say three weeks? And then we’ll see if you like it.”
The first leg of the tour was three weeks, with a break of two weeks. Then we’d be gone for another three weeks, followed by another few weeks off. It went on like that for a year.
“I have to think about it.” Her whole body was on edge. Her eyes were searching mine. “I never expected you to ask that.”
“Why not? I love you. You’re important to me.”
“Yes, but you always say tours are just 100 percent work and you don’t want anything distracting your focus.”
I frowned, remembering the day I told her that, when we’d been bowling.
“You’re part of my life, Isabelle, not a distraction.” I touched her cheek, bringing her closer to me, wanting to be as connected as possible to her.
“Ha! You think I won’t be a distraction? Think about it, because once I’m there, you can’t get rid of me.”
“That’s a yes to the tour?”
“I have to talk to my clients... but hell yes. I think they’ll be okay with moving to online sessions for three weeks.” She shifted in my lap until she was straddling me, legs dangling on either side.
I cocked a brow questioningly. She shrugged one shoulder.
“If you’re going to fondle me, you might as well do it properly.”
Laughing, I cupped her ass, rising from the chair. She shrieked, clinging to my shoulders.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“For the kind of fondling I want, I need a bed.”
“Ooooh, okay. Then I can get started on that massage too. Think we’ll have time for that on the tour?”
“I’ll do my best.”
I carried her to the bed, sprawling her on the mattress before claiming her mouth. I felt my whole body relax. The tension that had filled me that morning just melted away. She was going with me. I couldn’t believe how much had changed in my life since I met her—how much I’d changed.
She was right about the tours, and about how fiercely I guarded my time during those months, not allowing for any distractions, or even wanting any, to be honest. The downtime between performances had always been nothing more than a necessary break to recover.
But now I was looking forward to every moment of downtime. I knew exactly what I was going to do with them. Taking Isabelle with me on the tour might be reckless. She might find the experience too much to handle, but I didn’t want to hide any part of my life. If she was going to be with me long term, she needed to see it all—the good and the bad.
I used to be happiest when I played music, but that had changed. Now I was happiest when I was with Isabelle. And I wanted her to know that beyond any doubt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Isabelle
The next three weeks were very intense, almost rivaling the time when I moved to New York. I started by contacting every client I was seeing during the time when I’d be away with Brayden. I wanted to do it by phone, which was much slower than if I would have done it via email. I offered to do online sessions with them, but if they preferred to be counseled in person, I could arrange for a counselor friend to step in for me while I was gone. I would lose money, but I wanted my clients to be comfortable.
But the hard work did pay off though. Only one client canceled the session we’d scheduled during that time. Everyone else was okay talking to me online.
My family and the Winchesters were calling me almost every day, checking if I needed help with anything. They’d all been surp
rised but happy that I was going with Brayden on tour.
Jana and Donna both messaged me on Instagram, saying Brayden had told them the good news and giving me about a gazillion pieces of advice. I appreciated their support.
I even met with Cami, who basically just told me to take everything easy and to remember that the crazy interest of the press and fans always faded. She wasn’t coming on the tour, which was a pity.
Brayden had been right about the press being thrown for a loop that we’d gone official, but I still had a few reporters show up in front of the office. Sasha had instructed me to tell them they should contact my PR team—aka Sasha herself—so I parroted back her exact words.
On the day we were taking off, I asked the sibs over to my apartment to keep me company while I packed. The plane was leaving at five o’clock, and Brayden was picking me up at one. It was a bit silly to say I was already missing my siblings, since I’d only be gone for three weeks, but I did.
“Why do you need a whole day to pack?” Ian asked, gawking around my bedroom. I had clothes on every single surface.
Dylan seemed too stunned to say anything at first, but he recovered a few moments later. “Why do you need so much stuff? Are you leaving for three weeks or three months?”
“Weeks, you buffoon. But Sasha, the manager, sent me a list of how many outfits I need, and apparently the answer is a lot.”
“Please tell me you’re not going to ask our opinion on what you should take with you or something.” Dylan looked so desperate that I didn’t even have the heart to tease him about it. I had mercilessly tortured my brothers with this in high school.
“No, I simply wanted to see you two. And maybe ask you to make your famous omelet.”
“I knew it. You want to put us to work,” Dylan said with a grin.
“Just to feed us,” I promised. “I still think your omelet is the best ever!”
Ian pointed to a burnt-out light bulb in the corridor. “Do you have any spare ones?”
“I think there are some in the cupboard.”
Ian was cute, always checking to see if everything was in working order when he was here. I was proud to admit that they’d both spoiled me a lot growing up. Even though Ian was younger than me, they’d both looked after me, probably because Ian was hero-worshipping Dylan and wanted to copy him.
That phase lasted until Ian turned thirteen, when he totally rebelled and decided he wanted to be the opposite of Dylan. But one thing never changed throughout the years: we were always close, and grew even closer once Josie left.
Catching up with them was not the only reason I’d asked them here though. I wanted to tell Dylan about this great woman I’d met through one of my clients. I was certain she and Dylan would hit it off.
I had to be careful though. Last time I tried to set Dylan up, he was not happy with me, but I was persistent. I had to wait for the right time to bring it up though.
While Dylan made omelets, I started the coffee machine. Josie arrived just as we were about to eat. She brought Sophie too, who had grown to be even more snuggable, I swear. Since she wasn’t so tiny anymore, I wasn’t afraid I’d break her and actually held her for quite a bit.
“Careful with her head,” Josie reminded me constantly. But honestly, the reminder was necessary because I wasn’t used to it.
“She smells so nice,” I said. I was holding her so Josie could eat. The small bar area at the kitchen island wasn’t big enough for all four of us, so we were sitting around two coffee tables we’d pushed together in front of my couch.
“It’s baby smell,” Josie said proudly. “I think Mother Nature is trying to make babies as cute as possible so you love them even though they keep you up at night and basically dictate everything in your life.”
My sister yawned. She’d asked for decaf coffee. My heart went out to her.
As we finished brunch, Dylan was in a great mood. It was time to make my move.
“So, Dylan. Don’t freak out, but I have something to ask you.”
Chuckling, Ian patted Dylan’s shoulder. “Man, if she starts out with that warning, there’s no saving you.”
“I’ve met someone recently, and I think you’d have fun going out on a date with her,” I blurted out.
Ian grinned.
Josie laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, Isabelle.”
Dylan cocked a brow. “No.”
“But she’s a really amazing woman—”
“No.” His tone was final. Damn, why did I blurt it out like that? I should have casually brought her up, praised her a bit before revealing my true intentions. I had zero tact.
“I’ll go out with her. Is she hot?” Ian asked.
I glared at him. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not? So Dylan is good enough, but I’m not? I feel like a second-rate citizen right now.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said quickly, holding Sophie even tighter to me, as if she could shield me somehow.
Josie winced. “It sounded like that though.”
I pressed my lips together, weighing my next words carefully.
“Well, I know you don’t take relationships seriously, Ian.”
“True, but you think this one does?” He pointed his thumb at Dylan. “Times have changed, Sis. Hey, Dylan, maybe we should let our sisters know that you’re getting a lot of action. Even more than me.”
Josie and I groaned at the same time.
“That’s TMI,” I informed them. “We really don’t need details.”
“No details,” Ian said. “Just wanted to drive the point home.”
“Fine, I won’t say anything more on the topic,” I promised. There was a crucial difference between them though. Deep down, I knew Dylan still had a romantic side. I wasn’t sure Ian would ever want to settle down, but I’d been wrong before.
After we carried the plates to the kitchen, I told my siblings, “Okay. I’ll pack. You talk. Who wants to start?”
“I volunteer,” Josie exclaimed. Another reason why I’d asked them over today was because I knew my sister dearly needed to leave her own house, but meeting in the city was more difficult now that Sophie had grown a bit. She wasn’t sleeping all the time anymore and became fussy in restaurants. Josie had been stressed out the last time we met in a restaurant, and I thought this was a good compromise. At any rate, she seemed more at ease.
While the sibs brought me up to date on what was going on in their lives, I tried not to panic. I packed according to Sasha’s list, checking off each outfit as soon as I packed it. My wardrobe wasn’t nearly as fancy as the list required it to be, but I thought I could pull it off with the right use of accessories. I had two huge suitcases, and I was certain I’d need both of them.
At around twelve, my doorbell rang.
“Did any of you order food?” I asked.
“No, you have me, remember? Your own personal chef,” Dylan said. “We’re going to eat a second round of omelets.”
I laughed, blushing a little. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything besides eggs. Food shopping is not my forte.”
I hurried to the front door. Maybe it was the postman.
It was Brayden!
“Hey. You’re an hour early,” I said.
He held up a brown paper bag. “Thought I’d surprise everyone with lunch.”
There was a chorus of “Yes” from my living room.
“Thank you for saving us from a second round of omelets,” Josie said loudly.
“Hey, you said you liked my cooking,” Dylan protested.
“I do, I do. But omelets twice in a day is a bit much.”
“Come in,” I said.
He headed straight to the living room. I purposely stayed behind. I wanted a chance to unabashedly take him in. He was wearing a black T-shirt with short sleeves above rugged jeans, and hot damn, he looked absolutely delectable.
He glanced over at me when he put the bag on the coffee table, catching me in the act. I grinned. He grinned back, his ey
es crinkling at the corners.
Those eyes were truly something to write home about. As were his abs and arms, and, well, just every part of him, to be honest.
I hurried to the kitchen to take out plates from the cupboard, and I was smiling so big! I’d told him the sibs were with me today, and he came anyway. I knew he didn’t like gatherings, unless they were with the band, but he wanted to spend time with my family. That meant so much to me.
“Brayden, you’re a national treasure,” Josie exclaimed a few minutes later. We were sitting around the coffee table again, sharing half a dozen delicacies from my brothers’ favorite Chinese restaurant. I’d put everything on my plate from egg rolls to steamed vegetables to fried chicken.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, humble as usual. The restaurant was in the top ten most recommended in New York. Tourists used to ask me about it. The price tags were astronomical, but the food was truly delicious.
“What’s your schedule like?” Josie asked.
“Depends if we’re performing or not. Tomorrow, we have gym and rehearsals in the morning. Then total rest in the afternoon. At four o’clock, we’re driven to the concert venue. We perform every other evening over a period of three weeks. Then we have a two-week break. Then we’re touring another three weeks and so on.”
I knew all of this, but it still boggled my mind. Were they even human?
“You do this for every album?” Ian asked.
“Yes, but we only release an album every three years. After the release of the first two albums, we toured one and a half years for each. It was insane, but we were also in the top ten highest grossing tours both times.”
“So why is it not as extensive this time?” Dylan inquired.
“It was too exhausting. We picked the venues and cities that performed best, and the total expected revenue is only 35 percent down despite us only performing 40 percent of the shows compared to last time.”
“Wow, that’s good,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s a good balance. We don’t want to disappoint our fans, which is why we tried to spread the tour as evenly as possible geographically. But after the last tour ended, we all knew we couldn’t do it again.”
“I believe that. Even this tour seems insane to me,” Josie said.
