Rock Star's Ballad (White Mist Series Book 3)

by A. P. Jensen

  There was a U shaped couch in front of the largest TV Demi had ever seen. She wandered towards a pair of closed double doors and hesitated a second before she knocked. The door swung open and Demi gaped. Johnny stood in the doorway in a pair of sweat pants identical to hers and nothing else. His upper torso and arms were covered in tattoos and his abs begged to be touched. Johnny’s face was unreadable. Her eyes flicked beyond him to a recording studio. When she looked back at Johnny, she saw that his eyes were on the tank top and exposed skin. She should have stayed in her dirty business clothes.

  “I like your shirt, babe,” Johnny drawled.

  “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

  “I live here.”

  Demi drew back. “You live in White Mist?”

  “Yes.”

  The Johnny she knew didn’t live in a small town. He lived in the middle of the city, in a penthouse where everyone could party into the wee hours of the morning.

  “Bought this house a year ago,” Johnny said and crossed his arms over his chest. “How you doing, Demi?”

  “How am I doing?” she echoed in disbelief. “I’m freaking fantastic! I just woke up in a new town where I want to start a new life and find out not only do you live here, I’m in your house!” Did Trey and Gwen forget to mention Johnny? Of course they didn’t. Gwen thought that Johnny dragging her on stage was a romantic gesture, but Demi had no such illusions. “Why did you drag me on stage?”

  Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “You thought I’d see you in the crowd and ignore you?”

  She clapped her hands together for emphasis. “Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done. You don’t drag me on stage and tell everyone I was your first!” She gave him a baleful look. “You lied about that, didn’t you?”

  “Lied about you being my first? No.”

  He was such a liar. “You were a senior and dated at least twenty girls before me,” she said scathingly, “I doubt you played footsie with all of them.”

  “I wasn’t talking about sex,” Johnny said.

  She cocked her head to the side. “Then what were you talking about?”

  “First love.”

  Demi’s heart stuttered in her chest. “Johnny—”

  “Even after thirteen years, I took one look at you and my heart nearly ripped in two.”

  Demi went cold with shock and took an unsteady step backwards. Johnny’s eyes were seething with dark emotion. He followed her and her mouth went dry.

  “I sang your song to see how you felt about me,” Johnny said.

  She could feel herself drowning in him, being taken over by him all over again. She couldn’t let this happen! “I don’t feel anything for you! I was having a hard day and you sang that song…”

  “No matter how much times passes, it’ll always be like this between us. We’re halves of the same fucking whole.”

  “No,” she whispered, even as her heart cracked open in her chest. Memories of their past fluttered through her mind and she shook her head to clear it.

  “Yes.”

  She held up a hand and stopped her retreat, refusing to play his game. “I came here to start fresh, not repeat our history!”

  Johnny stopped mere feet from her. Last night she was able to appreciate the performer on stage and forget she had personal history with him. Now, being this close to him, she couldn’t. The past and present collided in a mishmash that put her on edge.

  “We need to talk, Demi.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  She started towards the door and stopped when Johnny appeared in front of her. She bared her teeth in frustration and tried to think of a way out of this minefield.

  “Why are you doing this?” she demanded.

  “Gwen told me you broke up with your fiancé.”

  Demi clenched her fists behind her back. Mental note, never drink champagne in front of strangers ever again. “So what?”

  “You want to start fresh in a small town, so you let them bring you here.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he seemed to want an answer so she said, “I did, but knowing you’re here, I won’t stay.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “White Mist is a great place to heal.”

  Her body locked. “Heal?”

  Johnny opened his mouth, but before he could say anything the front door opened. A little boy yelled at the top of his lungs as he raced across the room and hurled himself at Johnny. A woman with fabulous Louboutin ankle boots strolled forward. She had sherry colored eyes and a sassy bob of mahogany hair that suited her. Her eyes were fixed on Demi’s tank top.

  “Is this your new way of branding women, Johnny?” she asked.

  Demi gave her a baleful look. “A fan gave me this last night. If I had anything to wear, I wouldn’t be caught dead in it.”

  The woman’s lips widened in a mischievous smile. “I’m Regan.”

  “Leave it,” Johnny warned as he held the boy who had his arms wrapped around his neck.

  “It really won’t do to walk around White Mist in that tank.” Regan waggled her eyebrows. “All the women are going to want one.”

  Demi tugged on the shirt uncomfortably. She would not ask Johnny for clothes. Wearing his sweat pants was bad enough. Who knew where they’d been? “I didn’t bring any clothes with me.”

  “I’d offer you mine, but you’re way too tall. I know a giant. Let’s get you clothes and then breakfast.” Without further ado, Regan linked her arm through Demi’s and led her to the front door. “Come on, baby. We’re going to Aunt Kerry’s house.”

  “Aunt Kerry!” the boy shouted.

  “I don’t have shoes,” Demi said, sensing an exit strategy. “I don’t know where they are.”

  “Johnny, where’d you toss her shoes?” Regan hollered.

  It was obvious that Regan thought they’d had a hot night where Johnny ripped her clothes off and lost her shoes along the way. Demi opened her mouth to disabuse that notion and then shut it. No one would believe her anyway. She had no idea who the hell Regan was, but if she was going to get her food, clothes and take her away from Johnny, Demi didn’t care.

  The little boy hanging on Johnny’s neck abruptly let go. He would have hit the ground hard if Johnny didn’t have good reflexes. Regan led Demi outside to a hulking SUV and buckled the little boy into a car seat. He was an adorable toddler with wavy dark hair and brilliant green eyes. He gave Demi a charming grin and kicked his feet excitedly as Regan got into the driver’s seat. Johnny came out of the house with Demi’s shoes and purse and handed them through Regan’s open window. Demi felt ridiculous in Johnny’s sweat pants, a tank top and her Jimmy Choo’s.

  “What the hell are you doing, Regan?” Johnny asked as Regan started the car.

  Regan gave him a blinding smile. “Getting to know your first. Gwen called me this morning.”

  “But, I—” Demi tried to interject.

  “Not to mention, it’s all over the news,” Regan continued and Demi fell silent. “Gwen and Trey hauled her to the airstrip and the paparazzi know you caught the same plane. If you wanted her all to yourself, you shouldn’t have pulled her on stage and sang a song that everyone’s trying to dissect.”

  Johnny scowled at Regan. “This is between Demi and I.”

  “We haven’t seen each other in years!” Demi burst out. “This is insane.”

  “How about you stock up your house and maybe I’ll bring her back to you,” Regan suggested and Johnny jolted back, swearing as she nearly ran over his bare feet with her tires.

  Demi clutched her seat belt as Regan navigated through the neighborhood and waved at the kid’s playing in the street.

  “You okay? You look like you’ve been through the wringer,” Regan said without looking at her.

  “Yesterday was a rough day.” That was an understatement, but she didn’t feel like elaborating.

  “Yeah, Gwen told me you’re looking for a fresh start. I can relate to that. We’ll get you some clothes, I’ll take you to br
eakfast and you can spill.” Regan jerked her thumb behind her to the little boy who was playing an invisible guitar. “That’s my son, Chase.”

  Demi blinked when Regan pulled up to a house. “Where are we?”

  “My sister-in-law is around your size. I think we can find something for you to wear.”

  “I have money. Isn’t there a store in town?”

  Regan snorted. “Unless you want to wear a scratchy, blank shirt, uh, no. The nearest department store is forty-five minutes away. This is easier and Kerry has nice clothes.” Regan hopped out of the SUV and put Chase on her hip as she dialed on her cell. “Kerry, I’m stealing clothes, yeah? I have Johnny’s first and I’m gonna get the scoop. See ya.”

  Demi’s mouth flapped open and closed as Regan cooed to her son and walked through the unlocked front door. The house was littered with toys and the smell of coffee and pancakes hung in the air. Regan led the way into a master bedroom with an unmade bed, which Regan tossed her son on. Chase squealed and began to jump. Dazed by the latest turn in events, Demi beckoned to Chase so they wouldn’t violate the unknown Kerry’s privacy more than they already were. Chase leapt into Demi’s arms as if she was a long lost aunt and her heart melted. Memories of her brother Braxton at this age filled her and she set Chase down with extreme care as her hands began to shake. She refocused when Regan came out of the closet with capris and a white blouse.

  “Try this,” Regan said and jerked her head at the bathroom.

  Demi took the clothes, feeling extremely strange. She’d never borrowed clothes from anyone in her life. Regan tackled Chase on the bed and his shrill screams echoed through the empty house. Demi wandered into the bathroom and was relieved to find that the clothes fit even if they were, again, tight. Demi had a sturdy frame that no amount of dieting or exercise would shrink. Most men found her height intimidating. She wasted a lot of time as a teen wishing she was petite. God hadn’t granted her wish, so she embraced her height and body, which was Vikingesque.

  Demi followed the sound of Regan’s voice to the kitchen where she peered into the fridge with a grimace. She had Chase on her hip who chattered about Uncle Johnny and Daddy.

  “We’ll see them later today, kiddo,” Regan said and gave Demi a critical once over before she nodded. “Right. We’re off. I’m hungry and Kerry only has healthy crap. Let’s go.”

  They walked out to the SUV and once they were on their way, Demi glanced at Regan.

  “How do you know Johnny?” Demi asked.

  “It was on my bucket list to sing on stage with him,” Regan said.

  “Oh, you’re a singer?”

  “No.”

  Demi tried to figure out if Regan was joking or not. “So you can’t sing, but you wanted to sing on stage with him?”

  “Yeah. I jumped on stage, Johnny didn’t shove me off. We dated for two weeks until I caught him with another woman.”

  Demi felt her stomach clench and said nothing.

  “So, I put itch powder in his jeans during a show.” Regan shot her a snide grin. “You know he likes to go commando. Best damn show he ever did.”

  That icy feeling in the pit of Demi’s stomach vanished as mental images of Johnny dancing around on stage filled her mind. Demi roared with laughter until tears leaked from her eyes. Regan pulled up in front of a cute diner and Demi got out of the car, still chuckling as they were seated. Demi wasn’t sure who Regan was or what she wanted, but Demi decided they were going to be friends. Several people called out to Regan who waved. They put Chase in a booster seat and sat across from one another, still grinning like fools.

  Demi high fived Regan. “Now that is payback.”

  Regan tossed her hair. “You know it.”

  Demi examined Regan more closely. “He did that to you, but you two are still friends. How?”

  “Johnny is Johnny,” Regan said with a shrug. “I wasn’t in love with him, he wasn’t in love with me. We were good in bed, but in the end we were better off as friends. I toured with him for two months and realized there was a good heart behind the playboy. We’ve been friends ever since.”

  I wasn’t in love with him, he wasn’t in love with me. Regan’s easy words echoed through her mind as she ordered coffee and waffles. Regan ordered a burger and fries and a child’s breakfast for Chase who was taken by a group of women that looked like the Golden Girls.

  “Now, how do you know Johnny?” Regan asked.

  Demi sighed. She should have seen that one coming. “We know each other from high school.”

  Regan’s brows shot up. “Wow. You and Johnny go way back. Johnny’s never mentioned high school. I didn’t even know he was from New York until he said so last night at the show.”

  Demi stirred sugar and cream into her coffee. Regan was prying, but she wasn’t doing it in a rude way. She’d gone out of her way to get Demi clothes and she was friendly, open and curious. Demi wondered if Regan was trying to protect Johnny since they were obviously good friends.

  “We both attended Sacred Hearts in New York.” Demi glanced out of the window at the locals who passed with smiles and shouted across the street to one another in greeting. Was this place real? “Johnny was a year older than me. We had music class together. That’s how we met.”

  Regan’s brows shot up. “Sacred Hearts, huh? So, you come from money. Do you play or sing?”

  “No, I was the coordinator for all of their shows. I made sure they had music sheets, instruments and that everything flowed smoothly.” When Regan stared at her, dumbfounded, Demi shrugged. “Not what you were expecting?”

  “Hell no.”

  There was no bullshitting with Regan and Demi appreciated that. “I love music, but I can’t even whistle. It’s embarrassing.”

  “So, you and Johnny know each other from a high school music class,” Regan clarified.

  “Yes.”

  Regan’s eyes swept Demi’s face. “You don’t look like a geeky coordinator. I thought you were going to say you were the head cheerleader and you and Johnny were prom king and queen.”

  Demi grimaced. “I’m too big to be a cheerleader and not coordinated enough for sports. Neither of us went to prom. Johnny was what you’d expect, I guess. Bad boy that skipped school, got into a lot of fights and constantly surrounded by girls even then.”

  “You’re not Johnny’s type,” Regan deduced.

  “No, I’m not. We didn’t date until after he graduated.”

  The server brought their breakfast. Regan stole her son back from the older women who put up quite a fight. Regan didn’t let them sway her and came back with Chase who was very excited to see food. Regan cut up pancakes and cast Demi an expectant look.

  “And then?”

  Demi hesitated. She never talked about that day, ever. Demi glanced outside at the small town. She didn’t even know these people, but she felt safer and more at home than she had in New York. If she wanted to stay, she had to spill her guts. Johnny would probably tell everyone, anyway since he had no filter, apparently. As clinically as she could Demi explained, “My dad didn’t approve of Johnny and that meant a lot to me. He pressured me about Johnny constantly until I broke up with him.”

  “And that’s it?”

  She had a hard time swallowing her food. “I had second thoughts and showed up at his condo.” She tried to sound cool, but her foot tapped double time beneath the table. “I didn’t know that Johnny got married the night before.”

  Regan’s fork clattered to the ground. Chase showed his irritation of the derailed delivery of pancakes by thumping his fist on the table.

  “Holy shit,” Regan said.

  Demi set her fork down when her hand trembled. How could she still be so emotional over this? She blamed it on the break up with Barry and being faced with Johnny this morning. “No one’s more surprised than I am when he pulled me on stage last night. I wanted to see him live just once. I never thought he’d pick me out of the crowd, much less drag me on stage. All of this is just a huge misundersta
nding.”

  “He says you’re his first,” Regan said thoughtfully, feeding Chase and then herself.

  Demi snorted. “It’s ancient history.”

  “It’s not history for Johnny,” Regan pointed out.

  “It should be. He’s been married three times and been with eighty percent of the women in this country. Why would he care what happened thirteen years ago? I just want to start fresh. He’s not the same guy, I’m not the same girl. He’s a rock star and I’m… jobless at the moment. You know of any openings in town?”

  Regan didn’t miss a beat. “What did you do in New York?”

  “My family owned the The Ashton Hotel right off of Times Square.”

  Regan looked impressed. “That’s a ritzy place. It’s in a couple movies, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s been in my family for generations…” Demi focused once more on Chase and closed her eyes for a moment and shoved the tears down. She cleared her throat and cut her food into tiny squares. “I mean, even if it’s a server job in town, I’ll do it. I’ve done almost every position possible in a hotel. I don’t mind hard work.”

  “What happened to the hotel?” Regan asked.

  “I lost it.” Demi hid her clenched fists beneath the table.

  Regan stared at her, appalled. Demi gave her a brave smile.

  “Life goes on, doesn’t it? Yesterday was my last day at the hotel and then I went to the concert and now I’m here. I need to start over and…”

  Regan reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You’re going to be all right, Demi.”

  Regan’s confident statement made the band around her chest loosen. Demi squeezed back and nodded. “I’m starting to believe that.”

  Demi was desperately trying to compose herself when a man stopped at their booth. She looked up and saw a familiar face. Daniel Martin was filthy rich, gorgeous and dressed as if he was in New York rather than a small town in Montana.

  “What do you want, Daniel?” Regan asked sharply, pronouncing his name as ‘Danielle’ with a French accent that made Demi blink in surprise.