by Cari Quinn
They weren’t feuding like he and Simon had been, but that didn’t mean it was easy for him to extend the invite. For too long, he’d felt like Deacon looked at him and saw him as wanting. That feeling had peaked when they’d had that disastrous first contract situation with Trident, when Nick and Simon had stupidly thought they could protect their investment in the band by dealing from the shady side of the deck as far as percentages went. But it hadn’t started there. Not by a long shot. Even when Deak had been right there in the muck with him and Simon, he’d always remained somehow above it. He’d always been the mature one, the one who got married and settled down first and did everything right on the first try.
Nick considered himself to be doing well if he got anything right ever.
But he had history with the guy, and they’d started Oblivion together. Unlike Simon, Nick would never trash the past and the people he’d been in the trenches with.
So…time for a fucking merry Christmas.
Deak answered on the second ring. “Nick?” The surprise in his voice cut through the last of Nick’s reservations. If Deacon was that shocked to be hearing from a dude he’d grown up with, someone in his own band, something had to change.
Hell, a lot of things had to change, and he was the guy to start the ball rolling.
“Yeah. It’s me. How are you?”
“Good. Busy. Lot going on.”
Nick worked at relaxing his jaw. He already hurt enough without inflicting more damage on himself. There was no reason to think the worst. Deacon was not insinuating anything about his lack of productivity outside of Oblivion. In fact, he’d been pretty damn productive, all things considered. Writing songs—sure, some sucked, but he’d come up with some good ones too—and teaching guitar and doing the occasional press set up by his oh-so-diligent significant other.
Not to mention learning how to be a decent boyfriend and brother and friend.
“Oh yeah? Me too.” Nick rotated his wrist. Somehow he’d fucked that up too. “Very busy. So busy I don’t even have time for all my…busyness.”
Nick braced his fist on the window frame and pressed his forehead against it. So he’d had to address Deacon’s comment. So what? He wasn’t a complete douche anymore, and he deserved some credit, dammit. He’d even volunteered a couple of times. Without being forced.
He wasn’t Saint Deacon but at least he could be Not-Quite-So-Crappy Nick.
“That’s great, man. Are you and Lila still…” Deak trailed off and Nick’s fingers tightened.
“Yes, we’re still together. We’re living together actually. And I’m going to—” A snort from behind him had Nick whirling around to see the mutt mounting Lola right in the center of the formerly pristine king-sized bed. “Jesus Christ, get off her, you horny bastard!”
Deak started to laugh. “Uh, what?”
“Sorry. It’s the damn dogs. Can’t leave them alone for a second. Just like everyone else around here.” Nick marched into the bedroom and dragged the dog off Lola.
The mutt whimpered, and Nick might’ve had sympathy if he wasn’t sick of everyone else getting some but him.
“Sit there.” He pointed to the floor and the dog dutifully flopped down. “Don’t move. Not until I get you washed. You too now,” he added with a sigh as he took in Lola’s rumpled fur and dazed doggy expression. “But no conjugal showers on my watch. Keep it clean.”
Deak laughed again. “What the hell is going on?”
“I found a dog. Actually he found me. He stole Lila’s mother’s pies. But Li’s dog Lola is a hot piece—if you’re a dog, of course—and the mutt wants to bang her like a drum. Except he’s dirty and probably has fleas and Lila will kill me. Anyway, Harper’s not pregnant, is she? We’re full up on babies in this joint.”
“Whoa, dude, way too much information. But no. Harper’s not pregnant. One’s just fine for us for a while, though hey, great news for Gray and Jazz.” There was a lengthy pause, which Nick barely noticed on account of trying to keep a now whining Lola from jumping on the mangy mutt to finish things off herself. “Oh wow. Wait. Are you saying Lila is—”
“No.” Nick realized he’d yelled and took a deep breath. “Don’t put that hoodoo on us, man. Seriously.”
“Whew. I was thinking the world had spun off its axis. You settling down and starting a family? That couldn’t be possible.”
Nick frowned and nudged Lola back from the edge of the bed where she was mooning over Sir Dirty. “Actually, yes, it could be possible. Just not now. Not this very instant. Soon.” He exhaled. “But not too soon.”
“Got it.”
“No, you don’t. No one gets it. Not even me.” Nick shut his eyes. “I’m proposing. I have a ring. I have a speech. What I don’t have is a fucking manual for how to do it. How to be ready to handle every step of this. Because I really think it’s all beyond me.” He opened his eyes and stared at the two quivering, intent dogs. “I can’t even handle two horny pooches.”
“Who says you have to handle every step all at once? That’s not how you play. You focus on one note at a time. Strum one string, then the next. Eventually you have a full song. If you’re lucky, it’ll even sound decent. Just gotta put in the work.”
Nick frowned. That actually made sense. Just put in the work. He could do that.
“Thanks.”
“None of us gets it right the first time or even the hundredth. Just gotta keep trying and no matter what, no one gets to walk away. If you have a fight, you make up before bed. Or you make up in bed. Dealer’s choice there.”
“That part we’ve got down. I think. It’s more the rest I’m drawing a blank on.”
“The committing for a lifetime? Yeah, it’s a different road than you’re used to. Hell, it was different for me too. But I wouldn’t give it up for anything now.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah. Having a family is the best. Knowing the person who gets you most is waiting for you at home is incredible. And Lexi’s walking and talking now, like a real little person. It’s the coolest thing to look at your kid and know even when you’re gone, a piece of you will live on. She’ll have all the opportunities I didn’t.”
Nick leaned against the bedpost, arching an eyebrow at the mutt as he shoved his big head under the bedspread. The dog was obviously woeful at being denied sex with a sexy canine babe. Nick understood.
He also understood what Deacon was saying. Better than he’d ever expected to.
“I get all that, but you didn’t want a boy? So much easier to deal with. No need to worry about shooting boys off the property, no hormones—”
“You mean shoo off the property, right?”
“No. I meant shoot. With large bullets. Like hell I’d let my girl be taken advantage of by some boy like—like—”
“Like you?”
“Pretty much.”
“Both sexes have their pluses and minuses. But I’m reasonably sure you didn’t call me to discuss that.”
“No. Actually, I wanted to know what plans you, Harp and Lexi have for Christmas.”
“You’re asking us to Christmas?”
“Is it that hard to believe?”
“It’s a little hard to believe, yeah. We haven’t talked since, when, summer?”
“Early fall. It hasn’t been that long,” Nick said stubbornly, ignoring Deak’s doubtful noise.
All right, so it had been a while. But he was trying. So Deak could try too.
“We’re in New York for the holiday. Me and Li and Simon and Margo, though they came of their own accord and I’m not sure how long they’re staying. But they’re here now. I asked Gray and Jazz and their miniature terror to come too.”
“Miniature terror. That bodes well for my child’s reception.”
Nick had to laugh. “Nah, I like the kid. We just babysat him and Axl—anyway, are you coming or not?”
“Same old Nick,” Deacon muttered. “Pleasantries? What pleasantries?”
“Hey, we did the whole convers
ing thing for like five whole minutes.”
“Truth. Yeah, let me talk to Harper and see what we can figure out. I’ll get back to you.”
“Okay. And uh, thanks. For the talk.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for the invite.” Deak paused. “It’ll be good to see everyone. To see you.”
Swallowing hard, Nick nodded, though Deacon couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Definitely. So get your scrawny ass out here, dude.”
Deacon’s laughter was the last thing Nick heard before he hung up.
“Hey there. Don’t make it easy on him.” Nick stroked Lola’s head and chastised, she tucked her lolling tongue back in her mouth. Maybe she’d finally realized playing hard to get would get her further.
Not that the mutt seemed to mind, since he kept sneaking peeks of Lola every chance he got.
Another quick check of his phone revealed no new texts from Li, so he sent her one more. Instead of peppering her with questions, he went with an always popular choice.
NC: You know what I want right now? Your pussy on my tongue.
Satisfied that would get Lila’s attention, he pointed at Lola, then at the mutt on the floor. The name he’d had rattling around in his head, Klepto, was going to stick, he was almost sure of it.
“All right, you two filthy beasts. I’m going to throw a couple of those fancy bath bombs in the tub and scrub the shit out of both of you.” He hooked the mutt by the collar and started half pushing, half dragging the dog to the bathroom. As expected, Lola trotted behind them. “And I don’t expect any lip,” he added, directing a look over his shoulder.
She sat back on her haunches and offered a paw.
“Con artist.” He continued hauling his charge into the bathroom, then turned on the warm water in the huge two-person jet tub.
Good thing he wasn’t a regular guest, because he was pretty sure bathing two wild animals would violate his room agreement.
Grabbing the bath bombs, he read the labels. Moonlight and Pearls. Hmm, sounded interesting, perhaps for him and Lila later. Assuming she’d get in the same tub where he’d washed down the dirtiest dog in the history of canines.
Half an hour later, both soapy dogs were crammed butt-to-butt in the tub. He was in the tub as well, wearing his boxers, a plethora of bubbles and so not a smile.
The mutt had taken to howling every time Nick tried to wash him off, and that included getting the soap out of his bleary brown eyes. The amount of woe on the dog’s face might have been funny if Nick didn’t have a paw-sized red mark on his inner thigh that did not come from rough sexual play with a woman. Nope, he’d consorted with a male, furry partner.
And not by choice.
For her part, Lola was much more dignified. She’d clearly been bathed a few times in the past, because she didn’t get all torqued about some bubbles and a towel. But Klepto? Holy shit. The pooch was a damn menace under the spray.
“Okay, that’s enough. You hear me now? E-fucking-nough.” Nick hooked a finger in Klepto’s collar and got in his face, setting off another round of earsplitting howls. But that didn’t put the cherry on his shit sundae.
Then Klepto flung out a big paw, flicking water in Nick’s face so hard that he lost his footing and fell on his ass in the soapy water.
It was Nick’s turn to howl. Considering he was already in frigging agony thanks to his fisticuffs with that jackass who used to be his best friend, Nick didn’t think his shriek was a reason to turn in his man card. In fact, he felt quite justified in giving in to a full-blown mantrum.
And it included quite a few curse words that Klepto had not been introduced to.
The last of them, “motherfucker!” he bellowed just as the door to the suite cracked open and a broad figure filled the space.
A broad familiar figure. Also known as the man who’d fathered the woman Nick had foolishly thought he might be allowed to marry.
Not bloody likely.
“What in the world is going on in here?” Fred Ronson demanded.
10
Nick
“So, you see, he was the one who stole the pies. Not me. I didn’t even get a single bite, never mind a whole da—I mean, darn pie.” Nick flashed a weak smile. “Darn good pie. Yum.”
Yum? Good lord. His balls were shrinking by the nanosecond.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Honestly, he grabbed one, then I was trying to figure out what happened when he—” A smart musician could tell when he was losing his audience.
His was almost to Nebraska.
“I have no defense for the cigarette I put out on your floor. He had nothing to do with that.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Because of course, he’s a dog, and isn’t capable of such things. And I’m a grown man, who makes really bad choices.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“But I’m trying to quit. I swear I am. I’m actually doing much better. Except for high stress situations, I hardly ever even light up anymore. It’s only when I’m basically in emotional hell…heaven, I mean, that I even have a need to…imbibe.” Aw fuck, you didn’t imbibe cigs. They weren’t liquid. Jesus, he was so wacked out he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore.
“So you’re in emotional hell here. This nice, old-fashioned family Christmas causes you stress.” Fred sat back in the rocking chair next to the bed and crossed his ankles.
He was wearing argyle socks, for fuck’s sake. Nick had been sure those were a suburban myth. Who actually wore them voluntarily? Besides Fred anyway.
He tried not to wear socks at all if he didn’t have to, but in the arctic tundra that was Turnbull, New York he had no damn choice.
And he’d been asked a question, and instead of answering, he was dwelling on sock patterns.
“It’s not the family Christmas so much as other issues.”
“Issues like what?” Fred leaned forward and clasped his hands. Big hands, capable of strangling his daughter’s boyfriend without raising a sweat. “Like the ones that caused you to have that cut on your face, and the bruises, and God only knows what else? You’ve been moving around this room slower than I am and I’ve got more than a few years on you.”
“No.” Nick glared at his split knuckles. He’d taken care of them with some of the antibiotic stuff from Lila’s first aid kit but they still stung like a bitch. He should tape them up.
Later. Right now the pain centered him. Gave him something to dwell on other than how exactly he must look to his girlfriend’s father.
You think we should let her marry you? You gotta be kidding me.
“Did you run into a wall?”
“No. I ran into my best friend’s fists. Ex-best friend,” he amended, hating that it was still so automatic for him to refer to Simon that way.
“You mean Simon Kagan. His wife, Margo, is Leelee’s closest friend.”
“She’s not his wife.” That, too, was automatic. And dickish, but he was peeved and allowed to be a jerk while he was still wearing the guy’s ring print on his face.
“Hmm. I’d heard otherwise.”
“It’s a technicality. They committed, but they didn’t actually get married. Not the way I’d do it. In my book, you do the whole thing or you don’t do it at all.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
This guy was going to mmm-hmm him to death. “Look, anyway, I have to talk to you about other concerns. Simon is irrelevant.”
Or so he wished.
“Like what? Issues with Leelee?”
The nickname took him aback as it always did. “What? No. We aren’t having any issues.”
“Are you sure about that? I don’t want to pry, but you’re a rockstar. I imagine it’s been quite a change for you to settle down with one woman.” Fred scratched his chin. “You did settle down with her, didn’t you? You’re not doing one of those swingers’ lifestyles.”
Nick stared at him, horrified. “God, no. Are you kidding me? Lila? She’s never even had a—” He cut himself off before he used the word threesome.
“We aren’t swingers, and we’re both extremely committed to this relationship.”
Fred peered at Nick over his glasses. “Is that so?”
Here you go. The time has come. Perfect opening.
“Yes, I moved into her apartment this summer.”
And…divert from airport. Perfect opening rerouted to land of suck.
Fred frowned. “Are you not capable of providing a place for the two of you to live? Have you squandered your assets?”
“No, no, of course not. There’s been no squandering. Most people think I’m a miser.”
“So you’re sponging off my daughter.”
“Absolutely not.”
He wasn’t, was he? No. He contributed. He paid bills. He bought stuff. When he thought about it, which, all right, could be more often than it actually was.
Dear God, he was a swinging sponge.
“Is that so? Have you thought about purchasing land?”
“For what?”
Fred sighed and directed his attention at the pair of now mostly dry pooches sleeping in a tangle under the windows. “Why is that dog wearing my Lola’s collar?”
“So I could drag him around easier.” It was Nick’s turn to sigh when Fred sharply glanced his way. “Look, I’m not an animal abuser. I haven’t bought land for your daughter. I’m also not a poet. I haven’t written her sonnets, and I probably have sponged a little, without realizing it. But I have bought her this.” He stood up and pried the little black box he’d been toting around what felt like forever out of the pocket of his jeans. Without hesitation, he popped the top and waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“This is an engagement ring. I’d like to marry your daughter.”
“Why?”
“Why?” He hadn’t been prepared for that one. “I, uh, love her.”
“You, uh, love her? Could you possibly put a bit more emotion behind that statement?”
“Yes, I fucking love her and I want to spend my life with her. I may not be the best guy in the world but I’ll be the best guy for her because I won’t ever let her forget for a minute that she’s my world.” He took a breath and tipped back his head to stare at the ceiling. “It will be my life’s work to make her happy. If that means paying the cable bill, then fuck yes, I’ll pay it. I mean, hell yes, sir.”
