Love Me Two Times (Rock Royalty Book 8)

by Christie Ridgway

  “You know they’re engaged to be married,” he said, shaking his head. “The lot of them. My brothers. The twins. Ren. Who would imagine Ren Colson ever settling down?”

  Jewel found herself amused by Beck’s half-bewildered, half-aggrieved tone. “He’s eager for it, actually. Cilla was insistent the wedding wait until you returned, and it was driving Ren nuts.”

  “He’s a territorial bastard.”

  If truth be told, Jewel had envied Cilla her fiancé’s urgent need to have her legally tied to him by a marriage license. Beck had found it so damn easy to walk away from her.

  “They’re all so close,” he muttered now, shaking his head again. “They consider themselves a family, my brother says.”

  “I’ve seen it. I suppose because of so many shared experiences, growing up at the compound…”

  “No, it’s a new thing. Our childhoods…the girls were locked away from most of the mayhem, and we boys…we generally stayed far from each other after…as time went on.”

  She shrugged. “They get together a lot now. They’re all very chummy.”

  “Yes.” He put his hand to his temple, pressing there as if to alleviate some pain. “I don’t get it. Each of us escaped the compound at eighteen and kept to ourselves. Payne sometimes made a nuisance of himself, yes, but for years the rest of us were fine with the occasional phone call.”

  “Cilla mentioned that she and Ren decided to turn things around after Gwen passed away.”

  “Right.” Bowing his head, he pressed his fingers to his temple again and closed his eyes. “I keep thinking this new normal might make more sense if my memory wasn’t Swiss cheese.”

  “Wait.” She blinked. “What?”

  Beck looked up, grimacing. “Yeah. An unpleasant result of my head hitting a hard rock on my last trip.”

  Her heart jolted in alarm even though she saw him, hale and hearty, right in front of her. “That’s why no one knew where you were?”

  “That’s why. But I’m fully recovered now except for being unable to recall the months before I left on the trip. I can’t remember anything about that time.”

  She stared at him, her hand going to her throat. “N-nothing?”

  “Nada.”

  Meaning his treating her like a stranger hadn’t been an act. Oh. My. God. He truly didn’t recall their affair.

  And that changed everything…didn’t it?

  Chapter 3

  The Hideaway was pumping, filled with loud and laughing people intent on enjoying the happy hour specials. Beck saw his group gathered around a few tables in the far corner and wound his way toward them.

  He studied them as he approached, struck again by their ease with one another. As he watched, Cilla leaned close to Ren to whisper in his ear, and his arm automatically came around her as he smiled at whatever she said.

  Mellow, Beck thought. Ren, who had always been edgy and bordering on angry growing up, looked mellow. Content.

  And what man wouldn’t be who had someone to regularly share his bed?

  Maybe that was the true source of Beck’s own restlessness. He was horny. It didn’t help that he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had sex. Was is possible he’d been celibate those months before Africa?

  Acting the monk just wasn’t his style, though.

  An image of Jewel Malone popped in his head, and he tried shoving it away. Beautiful, yeah. Sexy as hell, yeah. But not for him.

  Though Jewel had said she wasn’t married, that little kid made her just as much off-limits. Yesterday, when the baby’s snuffles and waking-up noises had sounded from a small monitor, Jewel had instantly bolted from the room.

  Beck had taken that opportunity to make his escape.

  Returning to the compound, he’d told himself it was a relief. He’d felt borderline obsessed with Jewel from his first glimpse of her, and the single motherhood thing would kill that all-consuming, unwelcome interest. Knowing she came with a tiny sidekick meant he’d move on to someone else to satisfy his gnawing libido.

  And for now, it was time to try satisfying that other thing eating at him—namely his uncooperative memory.

  Greeting the group, Beck dropped into a free seat beside his youngest brother, Reed. The other man didn’t look up, his attention focused on his phone, his thumbs moving. “Texting Cleo?” Beck noticed the woman wasn’t among those at the tables.

  “Eli.” Reed glanced up. “A homework thing. We’re in negotiations.”

  “You’re going for it, then.”

  “It?” Reed asked.

  “You’re not only going to be a husband.” Cleo had two small sons, Eli and Obie. “You’re going to be a…”

  “Dad,” Reed said.

  Beck marveled at the confidence with which his brother said the word. He shook his head. “You’ve got balls, man.”

  Reed grinned. “Well, yeah, I do, but turns out it’s easier than I thought. I’m learning most of it is just paying attention.”

  What the fuck? What the fuck, you stupid little shit? How did you let this happen? How could you have been so damn careless?

  He’d not paid good enough attention.

  “Beck?” Reed stared at him strangely. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” he shrugged, then reached for an empty mug and the nearly full pitcher of beer in the middle of the table. “Except I need a drink.”

  Reed slid his own glass over. “Top me off, would you? I’m celebrating. My latest book is finished.”

  “Yeah? Congratulations.” Beck tapped his beer against his brother’s. Then he hesitated. Reed’s books were in a series—The School—about a boy’s scary adventures at a military academy.

  Tonight you’re supposed to be seeking information about those blank months of your past, Beck reminded himself. But now it was other history that he felt compelled to address. The blow to the head—or maybe the knowledge of how close he’d come to death—had seemed to set free emotions that he’d managed to lock down for years.

  Shame. Guilt. Remorse.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I should have stopped it.”

  Reed glanced over. “What? What should you have stopped?”

  “You going to Oceanview Army-Navy.” Their maternal grandfather had persuaded their father, Hop, to enroll Reed in the institution when he was fourteen years old. “I knew you were going to hate it.”

  His brother released a short laugh. “True. I’d never made a bed in my life, and they expected me to produce military corners.”

  “I should have convinced Hop how bad it was going to be for you.”

  There was a long pause. Then Reed made an impatient noise. “Beck,” he said. “Beck.”

  He met his brother’s gaze.

  “You can’t possibly think you were going to stop that old man from getting what he wanted,” Reed continued.

  “The Captain,” Beck said, like they were curse words. Nothing warm and cozy like “Grandpa.” The martinet had insisted the three Hopkins boys refer to him by his rank. “He stole a year of your life.”

  Reed shrugged. “And gave me a lifetime’s worth of fodder for my books.”

  Beck shook his head, remembering his helpless anger at the time and wishing he’d done something instead. Stepped up. Stepped in. “I know you suffered. Walsh says you still have nightmares.” Another boy at the school, who Reed had tried to champion, had killed himself because of bullying.

  His brother shrugged again. “I’m not the only one. Has Ren talked to you about his yet?”

  “Ren?” He shifted to look at the other man.

  His gaze must have caught Cilla’s attention because she pointed a finger at him. “What’s that intense expression all about Beck Hopkins? I banish it,” she said with an imperious, queen-like gesture. “We’re here to have fun.”

  Payne, Ren’s blond brother, reached out to tug the ends of her hair. “How about we talk about that raunchy bachelor party we’re planning for your fiancé?”

  Ci
lla smiled, all saccharine sweetness. “Only if we go around the table and let every bride-to-be discuss the pros and cons of her wedding colors.”

  The men groaned.

  “I don’t know,” Payne said. “I might be able to put up with that if afterward we get to debate the merits of strippers dressed as nurses or strippers costumed as schoolteachers.”

  His fiancée, Rose, promptly slugged his shoulder. “I’ll show you what happens to naughty boys when we get home.”

  Laughing, he pulled her out of her chair and onto his lap.

  Under the cover of the merriment, Cilla scooted closer to Beck. “Hey, I’m sorry I picked on you about your serious face. Is everything okay?”

  “Have you become the tribe’s mother hen?” he asked, smiling at her.

  “You’re entitled to a mood or two, I’m aware of that. You went off to Africa and came back with a broken timeline and to find a whole bunch of people rushing headlong into romance and marriage. People you thought would never consider making such brash, lifetime promises to a partner.”

  “So it’s you who has my diary?”

  She smiled. “I have Ren. The two of you are very much alike, you know.”

  Beck looked around her to see Ren throw back his head and laugh uproariously at some story Cami was telling. “I barely recognize him.”

  “Love and commitment agree with him. It agrees with all of us.”

  Beck swallowed some of his beer. “And Reed’s even taking it a step further and becoming an instant family man.”

  “Eli and Obie are adorable and adore him.”

  “But…” Beck sucked in a breath. “Kids, Cilla. I can’t imagine it. Certainly Hop was no role model.”

  “Or Bean or Mad Dog.” She shrugged. “We’ll all figure it out.”

  He quirked a brow, surprised again. “You and Ren?”

  “Someday. But first we have to get hitched. Which reminds me, I meant to warn you…we’re not telling the Lemons about our wedding.”

  “I thought the engagement was already in the news.”

  “Yeah. The band knows about our engagement, but we don’t want them coming home from wherever their tour has taken them and disrupting our big day. They caused a scene at Gwen’s memorial service—but I’ve promised myself they won’t hijack our event.”

  “You’re going to be able to keep it quiet?” Beck asked doubtfully. “In this town, the helicopters are all booked up on Saturdays so the gossip press can get photos and video of celebrity weddings.”

  “I have a friend doing all the booking—from the country club to the caterers—in her name. I just went along as her unidentified supporter when we looked at venues and tried the food.”

  “Clever you,” Beck said to her. “And nice to have such a cooperative friend.”

  “Oh.” Cilla lifted her chin to look over his head and raised her hand in a wave. “Here she is now. Jewel! This way!”

  He heard her voice behind him. “As if I could miss a gathering of such beautiful creatures. Why are the men just as pretty as the women? It doesn’t seem fair.”

  The males around the tables got to their feet which meant Beck couldn’t do less. Once he was standing, Jewel had already stepped past him to place kisses on the cheeks of Ren, Payne, Bing, Brody, Cami’s Eamon, Walsh, and then Reed.

  Which brought her to Beck.

  Awkward.

  “Hey, hi,” she said, sketching a little wave.

  “Yeah. Hi.” They stared at each other, and while he was aware of the other men returning to their seats, he stayed where he was, looking into her liquid dark eyes and her made-for-kisses mouth. Electric awareness moved across his skin in a wave of heat and prickles.

  She’s a single mom, he told his libido. No more needs to be said.

  But that didn’t stop the lust from pouring into his bloodstream and, even surrounded by company, his cock stirred. Hell.

  She shifted, pushing her hair behind her shoulders and her scent reached him, tickled him, made him think of…think of…

  But then it was gone, that glimmer of memory already lost, and he was only aware of her—the thrum of her pulse against the thin skin of her neck, the tip of her pink tongue dampening her lower lip, the way one hand clutched the other as if she was fighting the urge to reach out to him.

  In the next minute, Cami called a question to Jewel and the spell was broken. Flushing, she whirled toward the other woman, said, “I can only stay a few minutes,” then wedged herself into the chair between Brody and Bing.

  Beck sat down himself, relieved at the distance between them and relieved he hadn’t broken down and ravished her like the starving beast he became in her presence. He felt Cilla’s gaze on him.

  “What?” he said, reaching for the new pitcher of beer just set on the table by the server.

  “Um…nothing?”

  “What’s her story?” he heard himself say, then bit back a groan.

  “Jewel’s?”

  “Yeah.” He tried for a casual, one-shouldered shrug.

  “She designs jewelry. She lives with her grandmother in the house next door to the compound.”

  “She doesn’t have a man.”

  Cilla nodded.

  “But she has a kid.”

  “Soul.”

  He glanced over at her. “Like a shoe?”

  “No.” Cilla laughed. “Like S-O-U-L. Very Canyon, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you interested in her? In Jewel, I mean?”

  He snorted. “A lady with a kid? Fat chance.” What the fuck? What the fuck, you stupid little shit? How did you let this happen? How could you have been so damn careless? “I’d be terrible with a kid.”

  “But—”

  “Let’s talk about something else.”

  Ren passed her a new glass of wine, and she beamed him a smile and blew him a kiss. Then she turned back to Beck. “You were saying?”

  “Do you mind if I retch?” he teased. “All this PDA turns my stomach.” Not that he’d ever admit it aloud, but seeing sweet Cilla so thrilled by her man made him feel just a little bit envious. “Damn Ren. I should have swooped in and taken you for myself.”

  “But I’ve always wanted the whole enchilada, Beck, and you’re pretty clear about being only interested in…” She frowned.

  “The cheese? The sauce,” he lowered his voice and wagged his brows suggestively. “The cream?”

  “Now who’s being naughty,” she said, prim.

  He laughed and pulled her close so he could press a kiss to her forehead. “I think I’m glad I came tonight. You’re a tonic, Priscilla.”

  “You just ‘think’ you’re glad?” She arched a brow.

  “I’m not a sociable kind of guy. But I thought maybe one of the Nine might know something that will fill in those timeline gaps of mine.”

  She looked away from him to run her gaze around the table. “Your brothers…?”

  Beck shook his head. “They haven’t a clue. But I talked to Ryan Hamilton—I was staying with him apparently—and he said I wasn’t around much at night.”

  “That’s interesting.” Cilla elbowed him. “Maybe you’ve forgotten you were an undercover spy and were meeting with your handler. Maybe you were taking private disco dancing lessons.”

  Beck rolled his eyes.

  Cilla tapped a finger against her chin. “During that period I ran into you once, actually. And it was here, as a matter of fact.” She hesitated.

  Excitement tightened his belly and he glanced around. The bar was familiar to him from other visits, ones he remembered. “Well? Anything else?”

  “You were with Jewel.”

  “So precious,” Cami Colson said to Jewel, peering over her shoulder as she scrolled through the latest photos of Soul on her phone.

  Jewel smiled. “And changing so fast. Any day now she’ll be walking.” Tucking her phone into her purse, she stood. “And since I don’t want to miss those first steps, I’d better get going.”

  As
she pushed in her chair she made quick with her goodbyes. Throughout those short minutes, she was hyperaware of Beck, leaning back in his seat, legs sprawled, gaze on her. She didn’t let her eyes linger on his sun-shot hair or on the wide breadth of his shoulders. She pretended not to see him at all.

  Then, breathing freely for the first time since spotting the back of him upon her arrival, she headed for the bar’s exit. She was forced to pause to let by a couple rushing past, and just as she stepped forward again, a hand landed on her shoulder.

  Big. Warm.

  She fought a shiver, recognizing the touch immediately.

  “Can we talk?” Beck murmured, his lips near her ear.

  Swallowing, she turned her head to the side, not facing him directly. “I need to get home to my…to Soul.”

  “Just a few minutes.” He gestured toward the door up ahead. “On the front deck.”

  Some tables and chairs were scattered on the wooden surface and most were empty. Trees and shrubs surrounded the building that was a hodgepodge of re-sawn lumber and odd-sized windows that clearly came from other structures. Patrons used a large gravel lot next door for parking.

  Jewel gripped the deck railing near the wide stairs. Beck stood beside her, near enough for her to feel his body heat. If she shifted just a little, she’d be pressed into his side. She was tall, but he was taller and they fit well when standing, when walking.

  When in bed.

  An image came to her then, as clear as one of the photos on her phone. Beck propped up on pillows, his chest bare. She lay with her cheek on his warm skin, the thud of his heart in her ear, the both of them drowsy. He drew designs on her back with light fingertips.

  “I’m going to miss this,” he’d said.

  He hadn’t added he was going to miss her. Never uttered those words, not even right before his final goodbye.

  A group came through the door and clattered down the steps to the parking lot, laughing like they’d had the time of their lives. Without saying a word, she and Beck both watched them go. Then Jewel snuck a swift glance at his face, but as usual couldn’t glean anything from his expression.

  Another silent moment passed.

  “This place,” he finally said, “was supposed to have been a bootlegger’s hideout. They’d make the booze up here and take it through the canyon to the speakeasies downtown.”