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

by A. P. Jensen

  “You can’t.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. He buried his face in her hair. “When I lost you, I lost my best friend and biggest supporter. Now, I have her back.”

  “You don’t have me.”

  “I will.”

  “I want what Holly has,” Demi said into the pillow. “A quiet, simple life. But, I want to be alone so I don’t have to lose anymore people. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t have anything left in me.” She let out a small sob and Johnny murmured soothingly to her. “You’ll forget about me when another woman catches your eye.”

  “Not possible.”

  “Yes, it is,” she argued. “I’m probably the only woman who’s ever broken up with you.”

  “You stand alone for a lot of reasons. That’s one of them,” Johnny admitted.

  “I need to get an apartment,” she said, even as her body began to relax.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Johnny said quietly.

  “You shouldn’t touch me. You shouldn’t be in bed with me.”

  “It’s the only way I’ll sleep tonight.”

  ***

  “Come on, baby, wake up.”

  She had to be dreaming. She knew that voice and it shouldn’t be in her vicinity. “Johnny?”

  “Regan will be here in half an hour.”

  Demi opened swollen eyes and blinked at the handsome face looking down at her. “Johnny?”

  “You gotta get ready for work.”

  Where would she work when she didn’t have The Ashton Hotel anymore? Demi frowned and then her mind lurched into gear. She rolled away from Johnny so fast that she fell off the bed.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes, go away,” she snapped.

  Johnny strolled out of the room whistling. Demi dropped her forehead against the mattress. Oh my God. Did last night really happen? She rushed to the bathroom and stared at her reflection. Her eyes were raw and swollen and her face was pale. She flushed with mortification. She cried in front of him, nearly had sex with him and fell asleep in his arms. How pathetic could she be? She didn’t even last two nights in his presence without kissing him. She had to get away from him ASAP.

  Demi ran to the closet and pulled out an outfit. She paused when she noticed a mug of steaming coffee on the nightstand. The mug in itself deserved a minute of her precious time to examine. It was misshapen and crafted by an impatient hand, but Demi liked the flaws. On the side of the cup it said, ‘Unicorns are the shit.’ She took a sip and her brows rose. It was sweet, just the way she liked it.

  Demi made faces in the mirror as she got ready. Memories of last night made her want to hide under the covers. She didn’t know what to think of Johnny. He wanted her back? It was so ludicrous that Demi snorted. He didn’t want her thirteen years ago and he couldn’t want her now. Was he looking for wife number four and he thought she’d do? She scowled at her reflection. She may have broken down in his arms last night, but she wasn’t an idiot. She lost the two things that mattered to her—family and The Ashton Hotel. She wasn’t desperate enough to hand her heart over to a man who already proved how little he valued her. She couldn’t believe she was in a small town in Montana, in Johnny Bentley’s house. Who knew that deciding to buy the ticket to his concert would lead her here?

  Demi walked downstairs fifteen minutes after Johnny woke her. She was dressed in a gray wrap dress that looked great on her and made her feel marginally better. She came to a dead stop when she saw Johnny at the stove.

  “Here.”

  He handed her an omelet that was oozing and slightly burned. She looked from the plate to Johnny.

  “You made this for me?” she asked, mystified.

  “It’s your first day,” Johnny said. “Eat.”

  She took a tentative bite. It didn’t taste as bad as it looked.

  “It’s okay, right?” he asked.

  “Its great. Thanks,” she said warily. “I was just going to have coffee.”

  “You like food,” he said and the eyes that moved over her figure were frankly admiring. “And it looks good on you.”

  “We are not going there, Johnny,” she said, memories of her straddling him clear in her mind.

  Johnny tried to flip the egg in the pan without success. While he muttered under his breath, she flicked her eyes over him. Mandy and her entourage would pay good money to be this close to Johnny Bentley. She valiantly tried to ignore the intriguing tattoos on his body and refilled the unicorn mug.

  “You have a fetish for unicorns?” she asked to fill the silence.

  “Holly and Max’s son, Bobby, made it for me. It’s my favorite cup.”

  “It’s… cute.”

  Demi opened the fridge and blinked when she saw that it was filled to capacity with food. She grabbed the creamer and looked around the kitchen, which had been bare yesterday. Now there was a coffeemaker, pots, pans and dishes. She looked at Johnny who cursed and shut off the stove.

  “You did a lot of shopping yesterday,” she said.

  Johnny looked around the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face. He didn’t look like a rock god now. He looked like an average Joe who had no idea what to do in a kitchen.

  “I went shopping and the sales people gave me sets for everything you need in a kitchen. I can cook. Not well, but I can. I need to get furniture for the other rooms. It’s about time I settled in.”

  Demi glanced around the mostly empty house, which had a lot of potential. The floor plan was airy and simple. Johnny had a fenced in back yard with a lone tree that looked like it was about to die. This was a family house that didn’t fit with Johnny’s public persona.

  “Why’d you buy a house in the middle of a neighborhood?” she asked. “You could build a mansion or stay in New York.”

  “I came here because of Regan.”

  She tried to relax her death grip on the coffee cup. “Yes, she told me you were lovers.”

  Johnny gave her a long look. “She did, huh? Remind me to thank her for that later. We were lovers for a couple days—”

  “Two weeks,” Demi interjected.

  Johnny rolled his eyes. “Okay. Two weeks and we remained friends. I used to visit her when I had time. She came home to White Mist and her family became my family. I had a key to Valerie’s house and realized how pathetic that was so I got this house. I like to listen to the kids playing in the streets while I write music. It keeps me grounded and reminds me of what’s important.”

  They stared at one another. The events of last night were thick in the air.

  “I’m sorry about your family.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said in a stifled tone and shoved down tears that were always right beneath the surface.

  Johnny nodded. “Fair enough.”

  She cleared her throat. “Can you recommend an apartment complex in town?”

  Johnny put his hands on hips. “Really, Demi?”

  “What?”

  Johnny took a step towards her and she held the coffee mug in front of her like a shield.

  “Did you hear a word I said yesterday?” he growled.

  “Did you hear what I said?” she countered. “I didn’t come here for this, for you. I came here to start fresh.”

  “That’s what we’re doing, starting fresh,” he said though clenched teeth.

  “There is no we,” she snapped.

  He spread his arms wide. “What do I have to do to get you to forgive me?”

  She stared at him. “That was thirteen years ago.”

  “And now you want nothing to do with me because of it.”

  “Aside from the fact that the two years we dated didn’t stop you from getting married within two weeks to a groupie.” She paused for effect and continued, “Why would I believe a word from a man who’s slept with more women than any other male on the planet?”

  “Tabloids exaggerate,” he bit out.

  “Most of the time, I’d agree, but with you, Johnny, I’m sure they’re just
reporting facts.”

  “If I screwed that many women, I wouldn’t have time to write any albums.”

  She gave him a steely smile. “I’m sure you manage both just fine.”

  Johnny’s obsidian eyes were moody and intense. “Demi, I’m not playing a game. I’ve changed and this time, there’s nothing standing between us.”

  “There was nothing standing between us last time!” she shouted, losing her temper.

  He cocked his head to the side. “So your father had nothing to do with our breakup?”

  Demi glared at him. “My dad was worried and you know what? He was right about you.”

  Johnny flinched. “I was young and didn’t know how to handle the breakup. You were the only family I had and when you ripped it away from me, I decided to make my own.”

  “Don’t you dare blame me for deciding to get married! You made that choice.”

  “I take responsibility for it. I was young and stupid. Don’t you think that when you showed up, I wished to hell and back that I didn’t marry her?”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Her eyes burned, but she’d be damned if she shed another tear over Johnny Bentley. She cried a river in the past thirteen years and she was so done.

  “I’m trying to explain where my head was at.”

  “Save it, Johnny. I don’t care where your head was at. All I know is you married her. Period. That’s all I care about.”

  Johnny let out a long breath, visibly reining in his temper. “Okay, Demi, where do we go from here?”

  “I go to work with Regan, get an apartment—”

  “No.”

  “You don’t get a say in this!”

  “You think not?”

  One moment Johnny was across the kitchen and the next he had her pinned against the kitchen counter.

  “I have never,” he breathed against her lips, “regretted anything more in life than not fighting for you.”

  Her lips quivered under his and her hands tingled with the urge to dig into his flesh. Her heart pounded in her ears and her body heated as it he pressed into her.

  “Do you think that I’m going to let anything stop me from claiming you again?”

  “I won’t let you do this,” she whispered.

  “You don’t have to do anything,” he promised and the look in his eyes made her stomach flip. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  His lips captured hers and she gasped. Johnny took the opening and swept his tongue into her mouth. Demi’s hands landed on his arms to shove him away, but when he deepened the kiss, her nails dug into his flesh and Johnny took this as encouragement. His hands slid over her curves until he reached her ass. He lifted her slightly, pressing her against his erection. Demi delved a hand between them. Her hand was at the waistband of his sweats when the front door opened.

  “Oh, my.”

  Their mouths broke apart and Demi and Johnny stared at one another, breathing hard.

  “Outside, Regan,” Johnny snapped and the door shut.

  Demi shoved away from Johnny and smoothed a hand over her dress to give herself time to recover. Johnny leaned against the counter, cursing.

  “That’s a bad habit she has,” Johnny said gruffly.

  Demi didn’t say a thing. She stared at Johnny and realized that where this guy was concerned, she had no will power at all. She was seduced by his words—hook, line, sinker. She had to get away from him. Without a word, she ran to the front door and slammed it behind her. She quickly settled in the passenger seat of Regan’s SUV.

  “Go, go, go!” Demi said a little hysterically as if she were on the run from the law.

  “Demi, what—”

  Johnny came out of the house and Demi reached out to put the car in reverse, but froze when she saw that Johnny had her purse. She needed her ID and credit card to get a hotel room or apply for an apartment. Johnny didn’t look harried or out of sorts. He ambled over to them and paused to wave at his neighbors. Apparently, having his half naked torso on display was a normal occurrence because they waved back with friendly smiles. Johnny came over to Demi’s side of the car. Before she could press the lock button, he opened the door. He settled her purse on her lap and ‘accidentally’ brushed his hand on her bare thigh. Demi glared at him.

  “I’m meeting you two for lunch. What time?” Johnny asked.

  “Noon,” Regan said with a grin.

  Johnny turned to Demi. He was so close, all she had to do was lean forward an inch and they’d be lip locked, again. She could feel the warmth of his skin and wasn’t sure whether she wanted to haul him close or slap his face. Before she could decide, he smiled at her.

  “Bye, baby.”

  Demi growled low in her throat as Johnny closed her door and sauntered back to the house. If Regan wasn’t there, she might have gone after him and pummeled his head.

  “Oh my.” Regan started the car and backed out of the drive. “So, how was your night?”

  “A disaster,” Demi snapped and then, “I need to find an apartment.”

  “There’s some apartments just out of town, but they’re not the best—”

  “Sounds perfect. I need to make an appointment.”

  Regan cruised through a school zone at a snail’s pace.

  “He made me an omelet,” Demi bit out.

  “He can’t cook for shit.”

  “I know and he did it anyway.”

  “Hmm.”

  “He says he wants me back!” she exploded, throwing her hands up. It was crazy! Men didn’t say things like, I have never regretted anything more in life than not fighting for you. It was, like, a line from a movie! Maybe it was because Johnny was a songwriter or because he was the world’s most seasoned player, but his lines were to die for and she hated it! No one talked like that or made declarations like, Even after thirteen years, I took one look at you and my heart nearly ripped in two. Like, really?

  “I could have told you that,” Regan said with an eye roll. “I knew you were different when he sang that song for you on stage. Johnny’s been acting like a possessive lunatic since you arrived.”

  “He must be like this with all his women,” Demi said, trying to put things in perspective.

  “No,” Regan said reflexively. “Johnny doesn’t go out of his way for any woman because he doesn’t want them to think he’s in it for the long haul. With you, he’s doing everything possible to show you he’s serious.” Regan snorted. “I heard he went shopping yesterday. Now, that’s a first.”

  Regan parked and they got out of the car and walked along the sidewalk to Ever After. Other shop owners waved or called out to Regan who smiled. Demi shook herself. This was her first day on the job and she couldn’t afford to be distracted by Johnny. He didn’t factor into her future.

  “Where’s Chase?” Demi asked to change the subject.

  “He’s with my mom. She’s off today.”

  They waked into Ever After and Regan called out for Bethany. She appeared behind the front counter and waved them through to the back room, which had a long work table filled with tape measures, scissors, needles, crystals and lace scraps. There were two sewing machines and a colorful array of spools. In the corner of the room, a mannequin wore a dramatic wedding gown that stopped Regan and Demi in their tracks. The mermaid gown had sheer lace at the shoulders and an open back that was in equal turns flattering and daring. Pearl buttons began at the base of the spine and highlighted the curve of the bride’s bottom. The whole gown was covered in lace, which made it appear traditional from the front and modern from the back. The gown had a train with a scalloped lace edge and a matching cathedral length veil. The result was romantic and breathtaking. Demi and Regan stared at the dress in reverent silence.

  “What are you—? Oh,” Bethany came out of the tiny office to see what the holdup was.

  “I got married in jeans and leather,” Regan said quietly. “If I’d seen this dress, I would have waited a year and let Missy plan the big wedding she wanted for me
.”

  “I would have married Barry just to wear this,” Demi breathed and then reconsidered. “Well, not Barry, but I’d marry any other man for this dress.”

  “How about the guy you’re living with? He’s available,” Regan said and Demi elbowed her. Hard.

  “Who’s the designer? If you’re selling dresses like this, you shouldn’t have any financial problems,” Regan said. “This dress must be at least five thousand.”

  Bethany’s hands fluttered at her sides. “This is the only dress that I have like this.”

  “Well, you need to order more of them,” Regan said and bent over to get a better look. “This is amazing.”

  “I only do gowns when I have spare time.”

  “Hold up,” Regan jerked upright and held her hand in front of her like a traffic cop. “You made this dress?”

  “It’s a hobby,” Bethany said with a one shoulder shrug. “It still needs work and…”

  Regan made a hissing sound that made Bethany trail off into silence. Regan walked forward slowly, stiletto boots clicking menacingly. She prowled around Bethany with narrow eyes as if she were a potential terrorist. Demi wondered if Regan learned this technique from her brother-in-law, the Chief of Police. Bethany crossed her arms and glared.

  “You worked at Tyra Richie’s, am I right?” Regan asked.

  “Tyra Richie?” Demi echoed, recognizing the name of the exclusive wedding boutique in New York.

  “You were head seamstress or something?” Regan barked.

  Bethany lifted her chin. “I still work there. I’m Director of Alterations.”

  “Why be a seamstress when you can be a designer?” Regan asked.

  Bethany blinked. “I didn’t go to school for design. I’m self taught.”

  “So?” Regan said rudely. “Who cares where you learned to sew? You can sew.”

  Bethany bristled. “I know I can. That’s how I make my living.”

  Regan eyed her impatiently. “You think I don’t know the difference between a frilly gown and what you have on the mannequin? It’s freaking art. I know it when I see it, you feel me?”

  “Thanks,” Bethany said in a voice that made it clear that she wished that neither of them had seen the gown.