SPARKED: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance (With bonus book, PERFECT)

by Stephanie Brother

  I sit up, pull the sheet over my chest, and wrap my arms around me to hold it in place. "Billy, I'm sorry. Tonight was spectacular and amazing and unbelievable." I'm speaking the absolute truth, and I'm also hoping that if I stoke his ego first, the rest of my words won't hurt. "But how could we date each other?"

  Billy sits up and looks at me with surprise.

  "First of all, you're my stepbrother. We're as good as related. This really shouldn't have happened at all." I gesture down at the bed, referring to what we just shared. "But it did, and I'm glad it did, but it can't happen again. Our parents would be shocked if they knew we'd been together, and I don't want them to ever find out." I look at him, hoping to see that he's in agreement about the importance of secrecy, but his expression is moving from surprise to a closed-off look.

  "Aside from the fact that we're related, we have nothing in common. We live far apart, in completely different worlds. We want different things out of life. You and I are all wrong for each other."

  Billy stares at me flatly and then finally says, "I didn't realize you felt that way."

  I reach for him, not wanting my words to come off as cold and uncaring, but he rolls away from me. I call out to him, but he's already grabbed his clothes and is closing the bathroom door behind him.

  I find a robe for myself and wait for Billy in the living room. The bedroom is too charged with tension, and talking any further with him right next to the bed where we've just made love, would be adding insult to injury. I want to tell myself we "hooked up," but it was lovemaking. He was tender and attentive, and I really should have known better. Why can't I seem to do anything right with Billy? I don't typically make bad decisions, but that's all I seem to do where he's concerned.

  He's back out in less than two minutes and heads directly for the door.

  "Billy, wait—" I call.

  He turns, and the look on his face might as well be a punch in my gut, for it has the same physical effect on me. "Why, Kate? So you can tell me more about how different we are? You've made it plenty clear that I'm not good enough for you. You don't need to detail it any further."

  "That's not what I—" I start toward him, feeling sick at how he's interpreted my words.

  "I gotta go." He's out the door, roughly pulling it closed behind him before I can say another word.

  20

  Once again I find myself thinking about Billy more than I should. I do a lot of soul-searching, and most of the time, I don't like what I find. I know in my heart that I didn't mean to imply that I am somehow better than him, but the more I look inward, the more I realize that maybe some small part of me does feel superior. Maybe I think my job and goals are more meaningful than Billy's life in the country, and maybe those judgments, which I'd never even admitted to myself, somehow came out in my words and actions.

  I place a lot of value on goals and achievement, but it makes me sick to think that I might have judged him this way. I remember my mom telling me about the hard choices Billy made after his mother died, and I feel like the worst person on earth for making him feel like he was anything less than anybody else.

  I think a lot about contacting him, and I almost do several times. I don't even have his cell number, which seems crazy. I could contact my mom for it, or even just call George's house, but each time I start, I stop myself.

  I've never done anything right as far as Billy's concerned, and I'm afraid that I'll just make things worse, if that's even possible. I teased him once, then I finally slept with him and insulted him afterward. I'm honestly afraid of what I might do next. I mean no harm, but my intentions don't seem to matter.

  I doubt Billy would even talk to me anyway. I definitely wouldn't, if I were him. I torture myself with a near constant cycle of these thoughts, and eventually I just hope that letting time pass will ease the situation. I know I'll have to see him again sometime. There'll be family get-togethers, holidays. I imagine him not speaking to me, and I hope I'll have some opportunity in the future to apologize to him.

  As much as I regret how my words made him feel, I can't regret my decision in turning him down. I've always known that my parents were very different people, and their differences brought them down. It was devastating when my dad left us, and to be honest, it bothers me to this day. I vowed long ago to do all I could to find the perfect partner, someone who shares my interests and dreams. Of course I know that there are no guarantees in life, but I'm not willing to choose a life partner based on things like physical attraction and crazy hot sex, because desire does not necessarily last.

  I try to process my regret and my pain and hope that I eventually come out of the experience a better person. And I hope that someday I can be a decent stepsister to Billy. In the meantime, I throw myself into my work and keep as busy as I can.

  I hear from my mom every couple of weeks. Though they're back from Hawaii, she and George are clearly still in the honeymoon phase. She appears to be loving life, and it's great to hear. I resist the urge to ask her how Billy's doing.

  I don't miss Clay at all. In the interest of being a better person, I very neatly box up the few possessions he'd had at my apartment, and I mail them to him, clean and free of mud. He tried to contact me only twice after the wedding, but to my relief, he did not persist.

  About a month after the breakup, and my emotional night with Billy, I agree to go out on a date with a coworker from the financial department at the museum. We see each other twice, but then I decline a third invitation. I also have one date each with someone a friend sets me up with, and someone who I meet at a work event, but both nights feel forced. Something is off, and I decide that I just need more time.

  My job provides me with a great excuse to put my personal life on hold. Our biggest event of the year, a black-tie gala attended by city dignitaries and the press, is approaching, and attending to its details fills most of my waking moments.

  Many of our events are cocktail and hors d'oeuvre type functions, but this one includes not only a cocktail reception, but dinner, video presentations, multiple speeches, dancing, jam-packed swag bags, and more.

  When the big night arrives, I'm feeling confident but vigilant. I know everything's been well-planned, but you never know when there'll be a glitch. For the majority of the night I'm busy, making sure things stay on schedule and go smoothly. Midway through dinner, I check to make sure the band is set up and ready. After dessert, it's time for dancing, and I finally allow myself to relax a little. At this point in the evening, replenishing bar supplies is typically all I really have to worry about.

  I stand to the side of the action, where I watch couples head to the dance floor, admire gowns, and think about how the night has gone and what my boss will have to say about it on Monday morning. Toward the front of the room I see her dancing with her husband, and I take it as a good sign that she appears to be enjoying herself.

  I'm about to make rounds of the room when someone is suddenly at my side, a broad-shouldered man in a black tuxedo.

  "Hello, I'm William Taylor," he says, extending his hand.

  "Hi. Kate Randall." I take in the man's strong jaw, tanned skin, and closely clipped hair. My hand is already in his before I realize who I'm looking at. It's Billy. I quickly scan the length of his body to take him all in, from his polished shoes, to his expertly fitted formal wear, to the haircut that seems to change the angles of his face and make him almost unrecognizable.

  "Billy?" I know it's him, but his name pops out of my mouth like a question. He has the slightest hint of a smile on his face, as if he knows how good he looks. And he does look good. "What are you doing here?" I ask.

  We stop shaking hands, but he keeps hold of mine for an extra few seconds. "I'm here to apologize, and to prove you wrong."

  "Apologize? What could you possibly have to apologize for?" I'm still staring at him in disbelief. He doesn't look like Billy, but he looks perfectly in place at this gala.

  "Dance with me," he says, holding out his hand again in invi
tation.

  I scan the room, almost out of habit, as if to make sure no emergencies require my attention. When I look back at Billy, I see that his slight smirk has been replaced by an earnest expression.

  I put my palm in his and he squeezes my hand in a way that fills me with comfort. My thoughts of him have been so filled with pain and regret, but somehow the warm pressure of his hand surrounding mine makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.

  He leads me to an uncrowded section of the dance floor, and when we stop he puts his other hand on the small of my back and gently pulls me close.

  He smells wonderful, like my very best memory, and I sink into the pleasure of being surrounded by his strong arms once again. We dance in silence for a few minutes, though the heat of his hand on my back and the way he continues to squeeze my hand in his, communicate a lot.

  "Billy, I'm so sorry—" I start.

  "No, Kate. I'm sorry. I got upset the last time we were together, and I shouldn't have run out without letting you talk."

  "I never, ever, meant to make you feel like you were anything less than a wonderful man," I say.

  "I know you weren't trying to put me down. I realized afterward that I have my own insecurities, and I put those on you. I'm sorry for getting angry."

  Just then the music picks up tempo and Billy spins me away from him, and then pulls me in even closer. The country boy has a little Fred Astaire in him!

  "Now for the part where I prove you wrong,” he says.

  I'm cradled in his strong arms as we dance, and I realize how much I've been missing this.

  "I don't believe you know me well enough yet to say that we're so different from one another. But I think we have something special going on between us, and it would be dumb for us not to find out how right we could be together."

  He spins me again, and I have to admit I'm dazzled by his dancing skills.

  "And though I know you weren't putting me down, I do believe you judged me by appearances. We all do that. Hell, men judge women by how they look all the time."

  "But you didn't need to change for me," I say, again taking in his altered appearance.

  "I haven't changed for you, Kate. I just got cleaned up for tonight."

  "You clean up gorgeously," I say, reaching up to touch the close-trimmed hair by his ear. "But I like you dirty too. Muddy even." I run my fingers over his cheek, remembering our mud fight at the farm.

  He grabs my hand and brings my fingers to his lips, kissing them briefly.

  "I also believe that if we give it a try and find out we're perfect for each other, our parents would want us to be happy. They found happiness together. Why wouldn't they want that for us too?"

  I think about all this while we continue to dance. The band plays a slower song; Billy pulls me close and it's hard to think about anything except how my body feels against his. There is something here, something between us. I've tried to deny it so many times, but it's real. I've tried to forget him, I've tried to date other guys, but deep inside I've always known that it was different with Billy.

  "I'll admit you're making a good case, Mr. Taylor. But how do you see us carrying on a long distance relationship?"

  "Oh, I think we can handle that," he says. "It's only about a ten-minute drive from my apartment to yours."

  When I voice my surprise, he quickly continues, "And before you go thinking I’ve changed for you, and moved for you, I need to tell you that this is something I've been thinking about for a long time. I never intended to stay at my dad's place for so long, and now that Rebecca— your mom, is there with him and Tommy, I finally feel okay about leaving."

  "You live here now?" This is even harder to wrap my head around than his new look.

  "I do, and I could sure use someone to show me around."

  My mouth is open to say something, but I close it. We dance, and I process all he's told me. I savor the feeling of his body against mine as I think about spending nights and weekends with him. I think about walks in the parks, restaurants I'd like him to try, things I want to show him at the museum. I think of more private activities we'll be able to frequently enjoy. I think about buying bigger living room furniture, and definitely, a bigger, sturdier bed.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  We sit beside each other at the big farm table now when we visit my mom and George. Billy still antagonizes me, touching my leg or whatever else he can reach under the table, while I pretend there’s nothing going on. Sometimes I do the touching, and do my best to make him squirm.

  Telling my mom that we were dating didn’t turn out to be as scary as I’d thought. She and George were surprised, but they were not at all displeased. In a private conversation, she asked me to be careful not to hurt Billy, and that if things didn’t work out between us, we needed to remember to treat each other with respect and do our best to remain friends. Billy later told me that his dad had a similar conversation with him.

  A few months after moving into his apartment, Billy got a job at the city equestrian center. I’d never even known there was such a place! He gives riding lessons to kids and helps to care for the horses that are boarded there. He’s adapted to city living quite well, but we talk about moving to the suburbs someday, where we could still have access to downtown entertainment, but also have a yard and some space to call our own.

  We visit my mom and George every couple of months, and our trips to the country are always fun. We usually stop at the roadhouse on our way, and enjoy a reenactment of the night we met.

  We were just there last night, actually, and I still have a smile on my face.

  I’ll never get tired of being pressed up close to Billy’s perfect body.

  Right now, I’m keeping a close eye on that very same model of physical perfection as he cares for Buck and Gracie.

  Taking a long, peaceful trail ride is another ritual during our visits and today’s was one of the best. Fluffy, white clouds decorate the blue sky, and the softest hint of a breeze carries the scent of flowers on the air.

  “You should really know how to do this by yourself by now, Kate,” Billy says as he unsaddles Gracie.

  I step forward and rub the mare’s ears, something I’ve learned that she loves. “It’s much more fun watching you while you do it.”

  He waggles his eyebrows in mock flirtation and flexes a bicep for my benefit. I consider the possibility of us having an actual roll in the hay, but I decide to be good.

  I tear my eyes away from Billy’s muscles and help him groom the horses. He leads them to their stalls, and then we start for the house.

  I step cautiously, as always, around the perpetually muddy ruts just outside the barn.

  At my side, Billy stops suddenly and looks toward the ground. “Did you drop something, Kate?”

  I immediately take two big steps away from him. “Very funny! I’m not falling for your dirty tricks today, Billy Taylor!” I’m ready to run if he lunges at me with mud.

  He bends down briefly and then turns toward me with something in his hands. But it’s not mud; he actually is holding something shiny.

  I watch him, trying to figure out what he’s playing at. He quickly closes the space between us and then drops down on one knee in front of me.

  I see that the very shiny object in his hand is a diamond on a platinum band.

  My mouth opens but nothing comes out.

  I look down and see Billy looking up at me. His playfulness is gone. He’s gazing deep into my eyes as though he’s looking for the answer to a question he hasn’t asked yet.

  I can’t believe this is happening. We’d talked about marriage, but only in abstract terms; a “someday” kind of thing. I was not expecting this. I can feel my hands shaking and my lip trembling in surprise.

  Billy takes one of my hands in his and smiles at me. As my mind tries to catch up with what’s happening, I notice distractedly that he’s kneeling in mud.

  I smile back at him, and my expression seems to give hi
m the encouragement he needs to speak. “Kate?”

  I nod and feel tears well up.

  “I love you, Kate Randall, and I can’t imagine ever being without you.” He focuses on my hand in his and squeezes it tighter before looking back into my eyes with his gorgeous brown ones. “Will you marry me?”

  I nod my head quickly several times, and then finally manage to vocalize my “yes.” It comes out as a cry of happiness. I don’t wait for the ring; I pull at his hand to try to bring him closer, while at the same time I lean down to meet him and throw my arms around his broad shoulders.

  “Absolutely, yes!” I cry as I hold him tight. “I love you so much.”

  We kiss, and it’s full of love and new meaning brought by the commitment we’ve just made to each other. His lips are soft and warm on mine as he folds me into his strong embrace. When we finally part, Billy takes my hand again and brings my attention back to the ring. It’s beautiful — an emerald cut diamond surrounded by smaller stones — but it could be a loop of aluminum foil and I would be thrilled with it, as long as it came with the promise of spending the rest of my life with Billy, the perfect man for me.

  He slips the ring onto my finger, and then I hear clapping and calls of celebration nearby. My mom, George, and Tommy are gathered together a short distance away, and they’ve apparently just witnessed our engagement.

  “She said ‘yes!’” Billy yells with a loud whoop. He gives me another kiss, and then he scoops me up in his arms and carries me toward our future.

  About Stephanie Brother

  Stephanie Brother writes scintillating stories with bad boys and stepbrothers as their main romantic focus. She's always been curious about complicated relationships, and this is her way of exploring the situations that bring couples together and threaten to keep them apart. As she writes her way to her dream job, Ms. Brother hopes that her readers will enjoy the full emotional and romantic experience of her books as much as she's enjoyed writing them.