I grabbed his hand before I thought better of it. “You all deserve the recognition and success.”
He linked our fingers together, pressing his palm tight to mine just as he had when we walked on the beach that first night in Seattle. Memories built in his eyes and longing welled up my throat, about to flood my face. I tugged my hand from his and turned away.
“I want you to be happy.” I didn’t like how small my voice was. I forced my gaze to his. “You’ve spent so long trapped in a situation you didn’t create.”
“Oh, I created it. Jessica was right when she called me selfish. I never loved her the way a woman deserves to be loved. She knew that, and she resented me for it. But once I found out she was pregnant with my kids, I planned to stick by her. It all came back to not wanting to be like my father. I just fucked up lots of lives in a different way.”
I cupped his cheek. “You didn’t fail your son or daughter, Asher. Your wife failed you when she didn’t ask for help when she needed it. She failed you when she went too far and hurt your child.”
He pressed his lips into my palm, and my breath caught, my chest heaving as I tried to inhale, but couldn’t.
“Like Doug hurt you?”
“That’s different.”
“Yeah. But he hurt you. Bad.”
I couldn’t hold his gaze. My throat tightened. “He was something I needed. Once.”
Asher dipped his head. We stood like that, our breath mingling.
“Abbi and I text throughout the day. She told me you finished the last book in the series. That’s fucking amazing, Dahlia. I’m really proud of you.”
“They’re all about you,” I said. “I couldn’t stop wanting you, and it just kind of all came out.”
“I’ll be your muse anytime. Just as you’ve always been mine.”
Much as I hated to, I disengaged from his embrace. My heart pounded. We stared at each other. I wet my lips and said, “You need time to grieve, to recover from your divorce.”
He snorted. “That would be true if I’d done nothing but grieve since Olivia died. Sort of. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy.” He stepped closer. Held me like I needed. “But I need you. I wanted to be here sooner, but I had to stick around to finalize the settlement. Then Mason wanted to go to the camp Jeremiah’s in for the next few weeks.”
“Wow.” Confusion and anger swirled through me. Ella hadn’t said anything. Neither had Abbi.
That wasn’t exactly true. They’d brought up Asher, and I’d changed the subject or walked out of the room.
“But you didn’t answer your phone,” I said.
“I was recording or I was in court. It was off.”
“But you didn’t call back.”
“Abbi said you were writing. I didn’t want to interrupt. Then you quit calling and I was worried. I knew I had to come here, tell you these things in person.”
Asher slid his lips over mine, a gentle caress that eased the painful ache. I opened my lips so I could kiss him the way I needed to. Our tongues met, and desire exploded. I gripped his hair just like I’d always wanted, while he slanted his mouth over mine, again and again. His palm rubbed over my breast.
I’d thought for years I was better off not feeling. I’d been so wrong. Every second with Asher was worth whatever pain came after.
A knock sounded on the door, and we broke apart.
“They do have impeccable timing,” I said, struggling to catch my breath.
We glanced over his shoulder at Abbi. Her eyes danced with excitement. Mason peeked under her arm, and I was pleased to see he didn’t seem angry or resentful.
“They do,” Asher said.
“See, Mom. Asher loves you.”
Mason slid under her arm. “Yeah, heaps. He told us so. Right, Abs?” Mason grinned up at her, his eyes greener than usual. He seemed happy. Moving away from his mom and his security would cause ongoing problems. The healing from the divorce was a process with better and worse days. But we could get him through this. I wanted to help.
Asher turned to face the kids. “We’re trying to work out our living arrangement.”
“I liked that room I stayed in before, and there are horses. And we don’t have a house anymore. Dad gave it to my mom. But that’s okay because I get to stay with Dad. Most of the time, anyway. And maybe you and Abbi.”
I disentangled myself from Asher and went over to kneel in front of Mason. “You’re always welcome here.” I brushed his brown hair off his brow. I bet Asher looked similar at his age. “I’d like to have you stay with me, with us, as much as you can.”
The concern slid from his face and Mason beamed. “I brought a suitcase.”
“I’ll help you bring it in,” I said.
“Already did.” Abbi grinned. “I’m taking Mason to the diner in Asher’s car. It’s a freaking convertible. I hope we see Luke,” she said. “He’s going to be so jealous. C’mon, Mason.”
“Can I get one of those buffalo burgers?” Mason asked as he skipped down the hall after her.
“Be careful,” I called. I turned back to look at Asher, amusement building. “You bought a convertible?”
“I want to see your hair dancing around your head. Or better”—his voice dipped low—“you naked on the hood.”
My eyes stayed on Asher’s as I gripped his biceps. I pressed my lips to his and thrilled when he cupped the back of my head.
“I love you, Dahlia Moore Dorsey. I’m going to love you forever.”
“Oh.”
“That’s it? Aren’t you supposed to be good with words?”
I took a deep breath. “From the moment I met you, I wanted to know you. But I think I fell in love with you when you sang me ‘Moonshine Eyes.’”
“You do have a thing for being sung to.”
“By you. You speak to me. Because I love you.”
He grinned, one so full of life and happiness I had to grin back. He dipped his head and pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of my mouth. Heat slid through my chest, sliding down into my belly.
He loved me. He was here. I couldn’t control my hunger for him anymore than I could stop breathing.
I caught my heel behind his knee and shoved him. He cursed as he fell back onto my big bed. I followed him down, landing on his pelvis and then his chest.
His eyes gleamed bright. I tangled my fingers through his silky hair again and leaned down so that my lips were barely an inch from his.
His neck strained trying to reach my mouth, but I leaned back so I could nibble my way to his ear and that spot I’d found. He rolled over.
“I’m taking you here, right now,” I muttered.
He slid his hands down my arms until our fingers were entwined. “I like the way you think.”
“You’ll like the way I act more,” I said.
“Keep it coming. I got plenty of ever-after to work on.”
Thank You!
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for your support! This wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun without you.
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Acknowledgments
So many people to thank for this book! This one was fun (and steamy!) to write. LERA ladies and gentlemen, you’re welcome. And thanks for being so supportive, for making me love writing again and for sharing your knowledge so freely. You are the best.
As always, thank you, Chris. Your unwavering support and love shine through in all you do. I’m me because you’re you. To my family, thank you for your love and the patience to let me write.
To Nancy, thank you for your eagle-eyed editing services. I hope you’re proud of where we ended up.
To Nicole, thank you for
the advice on Seattle and the fantastic copy edits that make the story shine.
To Clarissa, once again the cover is gorgeous. I love working with you.
To my AuthorLab writing pals: You keep me on task and keep me motivated. I love seeing what you write. And I love how diverse our group is.
And to my readers and reviewers. Thank you for your time. It’s precious and I’m so, so glad you spent some of it with me.
About the Author
With a degree in international marketing and a varied career path as a content manager for a web firm during the tech boom, marketing director for a high-profile sports agency and a two-year stint with a renowned literary agency, Alexa Padgett has returned to her first love: writing fiction. She is a card-carrying member of RWA, or would be if Romance Writers of America had cards. She’s also a member of Land of Enchantment Romance Authors (LERA), and Fantasy, Futuristic, and Paranormal (FF&P) chapters.
Alexa spent a good part of her youth traveling. From Budapest to Belize, Calgary to Coober Pedy, Alexa soaked in the myriad smells, sounds, and feels of these gorgeous places, wishing she could live in them all—at least for a while. And she does in her books.
Alexa loves to read, especially her friends’ stories. She also spends a great deal of time in her tiny kitchen, channeling her inner Barefoot Contessa.
Write her at [email protected] or sign up for her newsletter to receive notifications for upcoming books and exclusive excerpts. You can also find her on Facebook or follow her on Twitter (@AlexaPadgett).
Other Titles by Alexa Padgett
Between Breaths
Between Breaths (Book Two in the Seattle Sound series)
Grief brought them together
A hospice center is no place to fall in lust. But with his world cracking during his estranged mother’s last days, Hayden Crewe needs something sweet to focus on. It doesn’t matter that he’s the backbone of Australia’s hottest international rock group—here, watching his mother die, he’s more alone than ever. So when he meets long-legged, clear-minded Briar Moore, he suddenly knows exactly what will fill the hole inside.
Fortune will drag them apart
Briar has just escaped a job and relationship that nearly crushed her. Crawling out of the wreckage of her previous life, she’s done playing it safe. Sexy, vibrant Hayden is what she wants, and Briar is going to take him. For as long as she can…
Out of heartbreak comes hope
With their time short and the ghosts of their pasts haunting every moment, Briar and Hayden know they’ve fallen too deep. While those few, intense days changed them both forever, everyone knows a connection this intense should burn out as fast as it ignited…
Chapter 1
Hayden
“Woo! Second encore! Let’s go,” Ets said, giving me a high five.
“I love playing Sydney. Nothing like the hometown crowd,” I said, scrubbing the towel over my face and hair. “Even midweek, their energy is amazing.” I let the tech powder my face again. Waited for the same treatment for Ets, Jake, and Flip. Our smiles grew wider as the raucous crowd screamed for more of us. Ets, my best mate, flung his arm around my shoulder, gripping me tight.
“You’re on fire,” he yelled. His gray-blue eyes lit up with joy and his eyebrow ring flashed in the stage lights. Sweat darkened his hair to a deep brown.
I stepped back out onto the stage. Blinding lights, the deafening roar of thousands of people excited to see me. To hear me play, sing. I raised my arms over my head and the screams grew louder. Yeah, baby. This right here—this was glory. And I was the high priest of rock.
I loved our fans. Loved that they connected with our music. Loved that I could sit at my piano and play this simple melody that’d run through my head for months to a rapt audience of thousands.
I rode the high as I sang, making sure I winked at the beautiful young woman standing right at the front of the stage, her strawberry-blond hair catching the light when she bobbed her head to the music. As our last song ended I dipped my head in her direction before taking my final bow and heading backstage.
“Fabulous show!” Our manager, Harry, slapped my back, his hand landing right on the sore muscles created from hours of lifting heavy equipment, even though I was told to leave those details to the roadies.
Bloody roadies. The rise in fame these last few months was still surreal.
Harry handed each of us a bottle of water. Sure, I would’ve preferred a beer, but I was the only singer other than Ets, and while his song skyrocketed us to the top of the charts this past year, my voice and compositions kept us there.
“We kicked arse,” Ets said, rubbing my chest. “You were on, Crewe.”
“You weren’t too shabby yourself, mate. Loved the play up the frets at the end there.”
Ets’s showmanship on stage kept our concerts fresh, interesting. Selling out.
“So did the fans,” Jake said. Ets’s younger brother, Jake played bass to his brother’s lead guitar. But Ets was flashier than his introverted, stocky brother. Always close, not just in age but in appearance, they balanced each other. Or had until Ets’s behavior turned erratic. Though he hadn’t said so, he was still hurt and angry his long-time girlfriend ditched him for parts unknown last year.
I chugged the bottle of water, tossing it to Harry when it was empty. “Let’s do the meet-and-greet. Noticed a strawberry-blonde.” She was hot. All legs and tits. I grinned, anticipating the next few hours.
“She’s gorgeous. So’s her friend.” Harry licked his lips, thinking no doubt of the mostly nude women waiting for us in the next room.
“Go wild, Harry,” Ets said.
“Wait a mo’.” I dug my phone out of my pocket. I couldn’t hear the ring over the din of excited voices filling the space, just felt the vibration. I didn’t recognize the number—international. Seattle area code. My stomach tumbled over, landing somewhere much lower.
“Hello,” I said, cautious. Anyone with my phone number was here, at the venue.
I plugged my other ear, trying to hear the voice speaking into the phone.
“I can’t hear you,” I said.
“Your mother… Hospice…”
“Hang on,” I said, and turned toward Harry. “Harry, I need to get somewhere quiet.”
He didn’t ask any questions—good bloke, there—and led me through the back hall to a room. He snapped on the lights, shut the door behind him.
“You ’right, mate?”
I waved him off, unsure how to answer. “Please start again. Who are you?”
“First, this is Hayden Crewe?”
“Yes.”
“My name’s Kelly Winston. I’m a hospice nurse at the Blevins Klein facility in Seattle. Your mother was admitted yesterday.”
“You sure you have the right person? What’s her name?” I asked.
“Miriam Hastings. She asked me to call you to let you know she’s here.”
“How’d you get my number?” I asked, too shocked by her words to think of anything else. My mum. No bloody way.
Kelly sighed into the phone. “I called your record label and jumped through a lotta hoops. Your mom’s in a bad way, Mr. Crewe. She has pancreatic cancer.”
My knees weakened and I managed to settle into a nearby chair.
“Pancreatic cancer. So—what? She’s dying?”
“Yes. The doctor said she has a week at most.”
I dropped my head as my neck muscles clenched. My mum, a woman I hadn’t seen in decades, was terminal.
“She asked for me?”
“She’s been asking for you constantly.”
“But she’s so young,” I said.
“She didn’t receive proper treatment.”
My chest tightened as my mind spiraled back to my dad’s last request as he’d gripped my hand in his age-spotted one. “Find your mother. If not for you, then for me. I never told you the whole story about her illness, Hayden. I didn’t understand it myself. You need to hear her version.”
“Give me your information again.” I snapped my fingers, and Harry handed me a pen and a notebook. I wrote down the details, the pen shaking as I tried to press the point to the paper. Terminal. A week at most.
“I hope you can see her, Mr. Crewe. Miriam’s quite agitated.”
“Yeah. I bet. I’ll be there soon as I can.”
I ended the call and stared at the pad. None of the letters lined up. Bloody fucking hell.
Harry patted my shoulder, all paternal concern. “You ’right, mate?”
My eyes darted around the room. Small. Dusty. Two chairs and chipped linoleum. Five minutes ago I’d been playing Sydney’s greatest venue.
“No. I don’t think I am.”
“What do you need?” Harry asked, voice solicitous. “Who was on the line?” More than a spark of interest there. Ambitious bastard that Harry was, my personal life would be splashed across the Australian Broadcasting Corporation news segment faster than I could blink. The media would go digging into my mum… why my dad moved us back to Melbourne from Seattle.
Which I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to handle. Possibly because I didn’t know the answer myself.
I cleared my throat, trying to figure out how to thread the needle. “My mum’s in hospice. I need a ticket to Seattle. Like, sooner than now.” I stood, ready to put my plan into place. Actionable steps.
Terminal. I shook my head. Crikey, she damn well better not die until I had a chance to ask my questions, get some answers.
Harry pulled at the vest under his tailored suit coat. His wife and three kids lived up in Darwin, a place he rarely went now that we’d hit the international charts. “Hayden, are you sure that’s smart?”
No, it wasn’t. I sure as hell didn’t want to fly halfway across the world to watch my estranged mother die.
“She’s dying, Harry. I have to go.”
I’d promised my dad I’d seek her out and hear her side of their story. He hadn’t said why I should after all the intervening years, and I never asked. Nor did I make finding my mum a priority. Now I was out of time.
Sweet Solace (The Seattle Sound Series Book 1) Page 26
