by Emily Bishop
“Rich people problems,” she said.
I laughed and turned my gaze back to the pages of my script. It was new, and I rifled through it, smiling still. It was good. I’d already forwarded a copy to Luke to check out, though it’d been a pain in the ass to get Wi-Fi out here.
That’d taken some string pulling. Then again, it’d taken a truckload of cash and even more string pulling to get that cunt, James, to sell the place to me in the first place.
We’d managed to convince Jerr to buy the place for us. James had assumed he’d use the space for another quaint restaurant or eatery. Instead, Jerr had handed it right over to us.
I grinned. And James was out-of-his-skull mad about it.
“What are you smiling about?” Aurora asked and sidled across the grass toward me. Her curls fell past her shoulders now, and she wore a loose cotton shift dress. An entire year had passed since our night in the rain, and I still couldn’t get enough of her, of the sight of her naked or clothed, and the sway of her hips as she walked.
Radiant, elegant, there weren’t enough words to describe her.
I patted the seat beside me then swore again, lifted my hand and plucked a splinter from it. “Are you kidding me with this?” I held it up for her scrutiny.
“I assure you, it wasn’t like this when I was a kid,” she replied then spun around in a slow circle, taking in the trees across the placid lake, the front of our cabin.
Already, we’d built on an extra room and remodeled the kitchen.
“The pies are almost done,” she said and sat down. She didn’t shift or cry out. Aurora had the easy grace of a swan. “When they are, we can have some coffee and apple pie, with a side of cream.”
“Sounds amazing,” I said and drew her into a one-armed hug. I kissed her forehead and inhaled that light, lavender perfume I loved so dearly. “Maybe we could have dessert before we have the pie.”
“Naughty,” she whispered and leaned into my embrace.
I traced a line down her collar bone, using my fingertip to draw shivers from her and raise the tiny hairs on her skin. She craned her neck and kissed the underside of my chin.
“Hey, have I told you I love you yet, today?” I asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I could hear it again. Again, and again, and again.”
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I said and kissed her on the lips, stroked the backs of my fingers down her jaw.
We lost ourselves for a second, and memories of our times together over the past year flooded me.
Aurora in an apron and nothing else in the kitchen, her hair done up in a messy bun, dancing on the spot to pop music and crooning along. She had a terrible singing voice, shockingly bad, but man I loved it when she sang.
I broke the kiss and searched her eyes, touched the tip of her nose. “What do you say? Fancy a little fun?”
“Not right now,” she replied and sighed.
“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Aurora and I were usually in sync, when I wanted her, she wanted me and vice versa. “Are you OK?”
“I’m feeling a little sick this morning.”
“Oh, shit. Do you want me to stop at the drugstore when I’m in town?” I asked.
“No. And I don’t want you to go to town today, either,” she replied and gulped.
“What’s wrong?” I asked and shifted to get a better view of her face. Her brow had wrinkled, and tears threatened to broach her lower lids. “Jesus, Aurora. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she whispered. “I guess I’m really nervous. I need to talk to you about something. It’s serious.”
“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it, together.”
Aurora remained silent and looked out over the lake. Fish swam beneath its surface—vibrant colored, every now and again a beam of sunlight caught the flash of an orange tail or a white and black specked body. Reeds rustled at the water’s edge, and a toad croaked.
The past year had been heaven for both of us. There’d been ups and downs, sure, but we were together, and we could overcome anything because of that. We’d moved into her mother’s house, we’d fought off the press and the bad media, and we’d loved each other for an entire year.
“Aurora, whatever it is, we can handle it. I promise you.”
She blinked tears and gave me a watery smile, finally turning her head. The breeze lifted her curls from her shoulder and blew them back. Her dress exposed the soft flesh of her breasts and neck.
“Talk to me,” I said. “Is it James? Did he speak to you again?”
“No, it’s not him,” she replied and managed a small chuckle. “Like I said, I’m nervous. This is a big deal for me, I guess. I—I know you’re going to be busy with work soon and you don’t need any distractions.”
In the year we’d lived together, I’d filmed on location once or twice and the distance had sucked—all movies I hadn’t written myself. “Everything will be OK.”
“But this is huge,” she said and took both of my hands, squeezed them. “You’re taking your script to Rod on Monday. I shouldn’t even be talking about this now, but I can’t keep it in anymore.”
“You’re killing me, here. What’s going on?”
Aurora bit her bottom lip and held it. “I’m pregnant,” she said.
My jaw dropped, and I stared at her, open-mouthed. The most beautiful woman in the world, pregnant with my child. Our child. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Oh, my god, Aurora. That’s fantastic!”
“Really? I mean, you’re happy about this?”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m over the fucking moon.” I pulled her into a hug, grabbed either side of her face and brought mine to it. “I love you so damn much, I can’t wait to meet our baby and raise it in this house with you.”
The tears finally broke, and she sniffled. “Gosh, I’m such a cry baby. Ha!”
“Ironic.”
“It must be the hormones. Or is it? I don’t know if they kick in at eight weeks or not.” She licked her lips. “The morning sickness does, though, sheesh.”
“Ugh, sorry about that. We could take you to the doctor and see if he has anything that will help for that? Maybe like a natural remedy?”
“I’m too happy to care, right now. I was stressed about this,” she said. “I figured it was the last thing you needed.”
“This is the first thing I need,” I said. “You and me, in this cabin.” And I slung my arm around her shoulder, and we both sat back against out splintery bench and looked out at the lake and the forest again.
Aurora rested her temple against my shoulder, and I placed my hand on her still-flat belly.
“When will you start showing?” I asked.
“I think somewhere around three months? I’m not sure. Oh, god, I need to get some baby books. And pregnancy books.” Her voice went light and bubbly, and she sat upright and turned to me again. “I’m going to get big. Like scary big. Ass and face, and hips. What if my feet swell?”
I chuckled. “You sound happy about that?”
“It’s a new adventure. God, I might have to set up my tent in our front yard. I doubt I’ll be able to walk out to the fairgrounds when I get that big.” She swiveled in the seat and peered at the clearing beside the lake, positively glowing, her smile broader than I’d seen it in weeks. At least now I understood why that was.
“That could be arranged. It might be nice. Mysterious for folks to come out here and get readings from the pregnant fortune-teller.” Honestly, I loved the privacy of this place—after being in the limelight for years, our cabin in the woods was my safe haven. We’d already fenced off the borders in the forest.
“Would you mind? I mean, it would only be if I couldn’t walk that far.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t mind.” I rose and brought her up with me, tugged her to my side, and grasped her tiny waist. I pointed to the line of trees where our little dirt path began. “We’ll get some fairy lights and string them up in
the trees. Put a sign by the gate that announces that you’re in here. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” she choked the words out. “Oh, god, here come the waterworks again.”
“What’s wrong? Is it something I said?”
“No, Jarryd, it’s—this is everything I’ve ever wanted, right here. It’s more than I ever thought I’d have.” Aurora reached up and placed her palm against my cheek. “I can’t help wishing my mother was here for this.”
“I wish I’d met her,” I said, and it was true. She’d created and raised Aurora, who was the most unique person I’d met. I couldn’t help but believe that Libby would’ve been an amazing woman and a wonderful grandmother.
“She would have loved you, I know it. She despised James,” Aurora said.
“Oh? You never told me that.”
“My mother was a good judge of character. Me, not so much. Till now.” My woman clung to me, and I lifted her left hand, which held the engagement ring I’d placed on it six months ago.
“We’d better get to work on arranging this,” I said. “Not that I care whether we’re married when the kid arrives. I can’t wait for you to be Mrs. Tombs.”
“Me neither. God, I’m so happy you’re happy.”
“Hey, why wouldn’t I be?” I turned her in my arms and studied her expression, happy yet tearful. “This is the best thing that could’ve happened to us. We’re going to be a real family.”
“Yeah, but it’s like I said, this is a difficult time for you.”
“No way. I’m going to call Rod, right now. I’ll reschedule the meeting.” If she needed me, I’d be here. The script could wait. I’d spent a year writing and rewriting, ensuring that the characters weren’t one-dimensional as those in Pride’s Death had been. Another nine months wouldn’t hurt.
“No! Please, no,” Aurora said and rose onto tiptoes. She kissed me quick, a light brush of her warm lips against mine. “I want you to follow your dreams. I have everything I’ve ever wanted, like I said. A family and a home, a real home that my mother would’ve been proud of. You don’t have your movie.”
“My dream? What if this is my dream, too?” I asked and tightened my grip. “Just being here with you.”
“You have a passion,” she replied. “It’s your calling, and you’re good at it. Performing, writing, being who you are. I think you have a real gift, Jarryd, and you need to share it with the world. Please, you’ve got to go on Monday.”
“Are you sure? What if you need me?”
“I’m eight weeks pregnant. I think it will be a while before I need you to paint my toenails for me.”
I chuckled and kissed her forehead, inhaled that oh-so-Aurora scent. “All right, I’ll go. But man, speak about nervous, I’m going to shit bricks on Monday. Rod wasn’t exactly happy with me the last time we spoke.”
“It will work out.” Aurora perked up. “Wait, does this mean I finally get to read the script?”
I hadn’t let her, because I wanted it to be a surprise, but nothing I’d written could top what she’d told me now, not that I wanted it to. “Yeah, I guess you could. I don’t know how you’ll feel about it—”
Aurora sniffed. “What’s that smell?” she asked and gave a couple more sniffles. “Smells like—”
I inhaled, too. The acrid tang of smoke on the air, and something else, something sweet. “Apples?”
“Oh, Jesus, the pies!” Aurora jerked out of my arms and rushed for the front door. “I totally forgot about them.” She dashed inside, and a series of clatters and muted cuss words followed. “Ow, ouch! Hot!”
I started for the door.
“It’s all right, I’m OK,” she called.
Mistress wandered out of the front door, her whiskers twitching. She flicked her tail. Apparently, she didn’t care much for the smell either.
“There goes my plan for afternoon pies,” Aurora called back. “Damn, so much for my domestic vibe.”
“I’m not marrying you for your cooking.”
Aurora poked her head out of the open window and narrowed her eyes at me. A thin plume of smoke drifted out behind her. “Then why are you marrying me?”
“For your tarot reading skills, of course,” I said. “I need you on my side and all the fortune-telling I can get.”
She bust her gut laughing, and that rolling mirth washed over me and echoed across the lake and between the trees.
“Forget about the pies,” I said. “Come out here. I’ll tell you more about the script.”
Aurora’s curious streak got the better of her, and she immediately disappeared from the window. A minute later, she walked out, brushing off her skirt with the kitchen towel. “I got a little burnt crust on me, can you believe it.”
“Take a seat, pregnant fiancée,” I replied and gestured to the bench.
She sank onto it and folded her dainty hands in her lap. I joined her then cursed and popped up again. “Always with the splinters, hot damn. Why doesn’t it happen to you?”
“Because I am at one with nature,” she said, in a put on British accent. She cleared her throat. “Well, what’s it about? Don’t renege on the deal now, Tombs. I’ve been waiting a year to finally hear what it’s about.”
“All right,” I said, and my nerves got the better of me for a second, dried up my throat and my thoughts. I lifted the script from the bench and held it on my lap, hand over the title.
Mistress hopped onto the spot the script had vacated and settled in to listen.
“It’s important that you like this. I was going to tell you about it tomorrow but now that—well, yeah. Aurora, if you don’t like it, I won’t take it to Rod. That’s an important point to understand.”
“Why wouldn’t I like it?” she asked and took my hand.
I lifted hers to my lips and kissed it, relished that flavor, that natural sweetness. “The movie’s name will be Gypsy.”
“Gypsy,” she said.
“Yes.”
“All right, and what’s it about?” She tilted her head as she always did when she listened, and Mistress mimicked her exactly on my left side.
“It’s about this actor who comes to a small town and meets this girl.”
Aurora inhaled sharply. “Yeah?”
“She’s a gypsy, a magical, gorgeous gypsy, who changes his life forever. The story is about how they overcome countless obstacles, her jealous ex, media scrutiny, and an obsessive actress to find the meaning of true love. The meaning of home.”
“Oh, wow,” Aurora said. “Jarryd.” She leaned in and kissed me, hard, sealing this moment, the one I’d worried over for an entire year, with the one gesture that meant more to me than anything else. Her opinion mattered and that was it.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“I love it,” she whispered. “May I read it now?”
“Sure,” I said and held it out to her.
Aurora placed her hand on the first page then withdrew it, a smile as light as a rainbow dancing on her lips. “Actually, you read it. Read it to me and to the baby.”
So, I flipped to the first page and started reading them the story of how we fell in love.
Fuck being professional.
I knew with one look she would be the face of my modeling empire.
What are the chances I would find her working at the local diner?
Years of fake Barbie’s have built a fortress around me.
Demi’s not like the others.
We have a real connection.
One that makes it hard to keep my dick in my pants.
I’ll smile.
She’ll blush.
I’ll get hard.
She’ll bend over.
I know she’s my employee, but I don’t give a fuck.
I’m the boss around here.
What I say goes.
Now climb in this bed and let me show you what a real man is like.
Prologue
I’d wanted this from the moment I’d pulled a random waitress into my
lap in a blind panic. I had no idea what an amazing woman had just tumbled into my life in that diner. I’d wanted her instantly, and as we spent more time together, my desire ran hotter and deeper. Finally, tonight, the dam was about to burst, and I didn’t have to hold back any longer.
I concentrated on the tiny gasps she made as I kissed her deeply, licking every line inside of her mouth, marking all of the recesses and curves. She shifted forward, leaning into me. I braced one arm on the wide branch she was sitting on and used the other to guide her closer to me.
Demi nipped at my lower lip, and a groan rumbled through my chest.
“We have to get out of this fucking tree,” I growled.
“Agreed,” she said, her voice raspy.
It took us no longer than a minute to hop from the low branches. Once we reached the ground, she shot me a wicked smile and gave me her mouth. I took it. Caging her against the rough bark of the tree with my elbows, I lost myself in her taste and the feel of her perfect mouth.
My dick was as hard as the tree behind her, and it strained against my zipper painfully, begging to be unleashed. Demi moaned and arched her hips against mine. Pleasure ripped through me at the delicious friction sparking between our bodies. I was in serious danger of coming in my pants like a damn high school kid.
I had never gotten so worked up from a kiss before. Every stroke of her tongue drove me crazier, and every time she moaned it was like a fist around my cock, stroking me to madness. My hands fell to her waist, then her ass, loving the way she filled my hands.
We were both breathing hard when I broke the kiss. I needed her naked and underneath me. Now…
Chapter 1
Barrett
Camera flashes blinded my vision, and the smell of coconut body oil invaded my nostrils. Italian curse words filled the air as my photographer wavered between shooting pictures and threatening to quit.
It wouldn’t be our weekly photoshoot if all hell wasn’t about to break loose. Only the location changed. This week, we were shooting in an old warehouse in Brooklyn. One of the last in Dumbo that hadn’t been renovated yet. It smelled faintly of stale tobacco and ancient grease, from the days when it used to be a manufacturing plant. The well-oiled machinery was gone, replaced with my dysfunctional crew of clashing personalities.
