The Plan: A Sweet and Sexy Rock Star Romantic Comedy (The Creek Water Series Book 3)

by Whitney Dineen

  “Who stays in a hotel room that costs that much?”

  “I’m guessing rock stars.”

  “Amelia, I want you to go into every bathroom and steal all of the shampoos and soaps. Right this very minute. Then I want you to call the maid and tell her you need double of everything tomorrow. Do you understand?”

  “Why do I need so many?” I ask naively.

  “They’re not for you. They’re for me.” She adds, “I’m sure that room comes with robes and slippers. Bring those home, too.”

  “Mama, you’ve gone and lost your mind. You have a robe and slippers and you have plenty of shampoo. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m gonna call the FBI if you don’t promise to do what I’m telling you.”

  “You’re a crazy lady,” I tell her. “Fine, I’ll bring you a whole suitcase full of the stuff, but I need to go to bed right now. I’m exhausted.”

  “You call me tomorrow,” she demands before hanging up.

  I change into my nightgown and crawl into bed with Maggie who’s already passed out. I lie there relishing the feel of what are probably eighty thousand thread-count sheets while I ponder how in the world my life got so turned upside down in such a short time. The strangest part is that I feel absolutely calm and collected. I’m so unlike me at the moment I don’t even know who I am.

  Chapter 50

  I sleep like I’m nestled in the arms of angels wearing silk pajamas, until Maggie lets loose with a blood curdling scream loud enough to wake the dead. I roll over and pull her into my arms and say, “Hush, baby. I’m here. Amelia’s here.”

  She’s full on whimpering but she doesn’t appear to be awake. Huck comes running into the room in nothing but pajama bottoms, and hurries to her side.

  “She’s still sleeping,” I tell him. I have no idea how, but I take a moment to thank my lucky stars I didn’t wet myself when she let loose. It was that startling.

  “It’s a night terror. She hasn’t had one in ages. I thought she’d outgrown them.”

  “My lord, my heart is racing so fast I feel like I just ran a marathon.”

  “They’re pretty horrible,” he says, “but she seems to be doing okay now.”

  “I may never fall asleep again,” I say as I watch him cuddle his daughter. I stare at the tattoos on his arms. They’re like hieroglyphics or something. My eyes roam over his bare chest and spot a marking I’ve never seen before, probably because I’ve never seen him without his shirt on. It’s a small heart shape tattooed on his left pectoral muscle. It has Maggie’s name in the center. I swear I spontaneously ovulate at the sight of it.

  Huck Wiley is nothing like I would have thought a huge rock star would be. He’s comfortable in his own skin and carries himself with a swagger that God would envy, but he’s not arrogant. He’s kind and funny and, boy howdy, does he love his child. That’s the sexiest thing about him.

  I look at the clock and see that’s it already five a.m. I usually get up at six at home, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to get back to sleep after such a jolting awakening. Huck looks up from Maggie and stares at my nightie with a lopsided smile on his face.

  “Is something funny?”

  “I like your nightgown,” he tells me. Then he laughs.

  “What’s wrong with my nightgown?”

  “Nothing if you’re starring in Little House on the Prairie. You just need one of those nightcaps and you’re good to go.”

  “There is nothing wrong with my nightie. It’s an Eileen West. It’s classically elegant.”

  “I think you’d look better without it,” he purrs.

  My skin prickles like it’s about to burst into flames. I’ve gone from comfortable to tropical in one sentence. I’m already hotter than a hula dancer in Hades, but I scurry to the closet and put on a hotel robe before hurrying out of the bedroom.

  Huck is right on my heels. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Well you did. I like this nightie.”

  “I don’t, and that’s not what I was talking about. I didn’t mean to offend you by saying that I’d rather see you naked.”

  “You didn’t say that!” I nearly yell.

  “But I thought it,” his voice sounds raw and rough like he’s getting ready to pounce—a thought I find highly disconcerting because it’s so tempting.

  I barely come to my senses as he steps closer to me. I announce, “I’m going take a bath.” I might as well see what all the fuss is about. I noticed earlier that the one in my bathroom has jets.

  “Need some company?” he drawls.

  “I do not.” Oh, lordy, but I want it. I happily manage to keep that sentiment to myself as I fling my hand in his general direction and order, “You go take a cold shower or something. I’ll keep an ear out for Maggie.”

  He shakes his head. “I need more sleep. If I’m going to be at my best tonight, I’d better get a couple more hours. Unless you want to join me.” He adds, “I’d stay up for that.”

  I just bet he would, too. “No thank you,” I tell him piously as though I’m off to read to blind children. That man is like candy and I’m reacting to him like a diabetic living on a celery farm.

  I leave the bathroom door open an inch so I can hear if Maggie needs me. Then I pour the entire contents of the complementary ginger rose bubble bath into the tub while it fills. Mama is going to flip for this stuff. I’m either going to have to see if they have a gallon-size jug for sale in the gift shop or I’m going to have to knock over a maid’s cart like it’s a convenience store.

  The entire wall next to the tub is a floor to ceiling window. I can’t imagine taking my clothes off with the lights on, so I go and fetch a jarred candle I brought from home. Not being a traveler, I didn’t know what I might need, but I thought if I got homesick I could close my eyes while I burned the sugar cookie-scented flame that I keep in my living room. That way I could pretend I was still there.

  I light the wick and drop my robe before taking off my nightie, all the while staring out the window at the city blanketed by darkness.

  Lights turn on here and there as the city-dwellers begin to stir, but overall it remains mostly shadows. It’s Saturday after all, and I expect the majority of folks are still in bed celebrating the beginning of their weekend.

  Suddenly, my skin prickles like I’m being watched. Heck, I probably am. There are almost certainly a hundred perverts out there with telescopes trained on this very window. I turn to put my robe back on while I wait for the tub to finish filling, only to discover Huck standing in the doorway staring at my naked self.

  “What are you doing in here?” I demand as I unsuccessfully try to use my hands like they’re fig leaves.

  “I was going to ask you to wake me up at eight, but then …” he waves his fingers like he’s a magician who’s just conjured me out of midair. “I heard the water running, and the door was open. I was about to knock, but you know …” He does that finger thing again while he keeps his eyes trained on me.

  My body is suddenly awash with need. I want to throw myself at him, consequences be damned. I somehow manage to order, “Turn around.” Once I see the back of him, I drop into the bubbles to cover my nakedness.

  The look in his eyes as he watched me was almost my undoing. I am trying my darndest to be strong and resist the pull of this man, at least until I know more of what we are to each other. But I’m still human; I’m not made of steel.

  I don’t tell him when I’m in the tub, but he obviously hears the splashing because he faces me again as he walks toward me with intent.

  “What are you doing?” He pulls the tie on his pajama pants to loosen them.

  “I suddenly feel the need for a bath,” he says as they start to drop.

  With my eyes pinched closed, I reply, “Your daughter is in that bed out there.”

  “Damn.” I open my eyes in time to watch him retie the string.

  I hurry to add, “Not that you were invited.”

  “Amelia,”
he groans as though he’s in pain. “You are beautiful.”

  I choose to ignore him. “Go on, I’ll make sure you’re up by eight.” He just stands there staring like he’s in a trance. “Get out of here before your daughter wakes up.”

  Huck Wiley eventually turns around and strolls out of the room but not before saying, “We’re not through here.” And before I can stop myself, I think, I sure as heck hope not.

  Chapter 51

  Maggie comes out into the living room at seven thirty with a smile so bright she appears completely unaffected by the horror movie scream she enacted in her sleep. She plops down on the couch next to me. “I get to see Uncle Gizzy today. I can’t wait.”

  I’m excited to see Huck perform tonight, but I’m also very nervous about the crowds. I decide to avoid the truth and reply, “I’m pretty jazzed about walking over to Lake Michigan.” I look out the window. “It looks more like an ocean than a lake.”

  “Have you ever been to the ocean?” she asks.

  “When I was a kid.” I saw it on the dreaded Disney World trip.

  “What did you like the best?” she asks.

  “I liked the sound. It made me feel like a blanket of calm surrounded me, which is weird because it’s so loud. You wouldn’t think it would be so soothing.”

  “I like watching the waves. Sometimes seagulls sit on them and ride them like they’re surfing. It looks wonderful.” She quickly adds, “But I never go in any deeper than my ankles.”

  “Smart,” I tell her. “The sharks never get that close.”

  She cuddles up next to me on the couch. “Thank you for coming. I know I acted like a real brat at your club and didn’t give you much of a choice.”

  “I had a choice,” I tell her. After all, I could have said no and upset her more.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “No, you didn’t. You’re too nice. There’s no way you would have said no, especially with me carrying on like a baby.”

  I reach over and take her hand before gently squeezing it. “That was a hard day. Cootie wasn’t particularly receptive to your news. You’ve got to give her some time.”

  “What if she doesn’t ever want to be a part of our lives? She’s the only grandmother I have left.”

  “Trust me, honey; I’d love to tell you that you’d be missing out on a quality person, but that hasn’t been my experience with Cootie Wilcox.” I feel bad saying that, but Huck seems to be taking a pretty honest approach in raising his daughter. Other than leveling with her about her mother, that is. But even then, I’m sure he’ll eventually tell her the truth.

  Maggie rests her head on my shoulder. “Maybe she’s just scared.”

  “Maybe,” I tell her, even though I don’t believe that for one minute. Cootie’s too mean on a regular basis for her behavior to have been an anomaly. If I were to put money on it, I’d guess she’s trying to figure out how to get Huck and Maggie to forget they know the truth about her. She’s probably worried what her snotty country club friends will think if they find out.

  “I’m hungry, you want to get breakfast with me?”

  “Your dad wanted us to wake him at eight. Do you think you can wait a few minutes?”

  She gets up and runs into his bedroom. “Nope, I want to eat now.” I hear her jump onto his bed and yell, “Get up, Dad; I’m starving!”

  There’s a scuffle and a squeal of laughter right before Huck complains, “I have twenty more minutes to sleep.”

  There’s more laughter before he declares, “You’ve just woken up the tickle monster. You’d better run!”

  I’ve often wondered what it’s like to have a child. I’ve always thought it’s probably the best thing that can happen to a person. Huck and Maggie’s relationship convinces me that’s true. While it had to have been hard raising his daughter while keeping up his tour schedule, those two are so close you’d never know they didn’t see each other every day of the week.

  Maggie comes running out of her dad’s room shouting, “You can’t get me, Tickle Monster.” But he’s hot on her heels.

  When they reach the living room where I’m still sitting, Huck eyes me and says, “I think there’s someone else who needs to meet the tickle monster.” The two of them share a conspiratorial grin as Huck turns toward me with a laser focus.

  “No, sir,” I say while getting up quickly and scanning the living room for a place to hide. When I don’t find one, I pick up throw pillows off the sofa and launch them at him like missiles.

  “Don’t you touch me, Huck Wiley,” I tell him, but I can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in my throat.

  “Go get her, Dad!” Maggie cheers from the sidelines.

  Huck strides toward me while I dodge to the left. When he follows suit, I weave to the right. I’m nearly past him when his arm snakes out and grabs me around the waist. He pulls me toward him with lightning speed.

  “Don’t tickle me,” I beg. “Please.”

  He doesn’t. Instead he pulls me toward him and circles his other arm around me. Then he dips his mouth to my neck and kisses me there in such a way that my knees nearly give out. He holds on even tighter and calls out to his daughter, “Get over here, Mags. I caught her for you.”

  Maggie runs over and throws her arms around us both, but she doesn’t tickle us. Instead she hangs on for dear life. “I got you both. I’ve slayed the tickle monster!”

  I don’t know about slaying the tickle monster, but this little girl just took complete ownership of my heart. Wrapped between these two Wileys feels like the safest, most wonderful place I could ever hope to be. I feel invincible in the middle of this group hug, like there’s nothing I can’t do.

  Chapter 52

  A stretch limousine picks us up at the hotel after we spend the morning taking a walk, swimming in the hotel pool, and gorging ourselves on pizza. When Huck said the car was here, I thought he meant the valet brought around the car we drove from Missouri. I say as much.

  Huck looks surprised. “That wouldn’t be safe.”

  “Why not?” I ask, suddenly feeling full of worry.

  “The concert is sold out. That’s over seventeen thousand seats. A lot of those folks will be partying and drinking and looking to get closer to us after the show.”

  “Seventeen thousand?” My mouth hangs open in what I’m sure is an unflattering look. Huck nods his head and I announce, “I can’t go.”

  “Of course you can. We’re going long before any of those people show up and we’ll be safely backstage with plenty of security to keep us safe until long after they’re gone.”

  “Seventeen thousand,” I repeat again. “That’s more people than live in all of Creek Water.”

  “I would never put you or Maggie at risk. I promise you’ll be safe.”

  Somehow my legs carry me down the curb and into the back of the limousine. As soon as we pull out into traffic, Maggie starts opening up different compartments. There’s a mini fridge full of anything you could want to drink. There are cabinets full of snacks and treats.

  She hands me a Twizzler. “They’re really good if you dip them in root beer first. Wanna try?”

  I manage to nod my head. When Maggie hands me my drink, she says, “Come on Amelia, if I can do this, so can you.” When a ten-year-old drops the gauntlet, especially one as brave and sweet as Maggie Wiley, I have no other choice but to pick it up. I’m going to a concert.

  Forty minutes later, we pull into a vast parking lot and head straight toward an enormous building. We pass a sign that says, “Backstage Parking,” but we don’t stop until we’re within a few feet of a pair of industrial-looking doors.

  Huck pulls out his phone, hits a button and simply says, “We’re here.”

  Within moments the doors fling open, and a giant man in a sleeveless black-leather vest comes barreling out. While Huck’s look is classic blue jeans and t-shirt rock star, this guy looks more like a biker with his black hair hanging down to his shoulders and tattoos covering both arms. Plus, he’s huge. Huck
is a big guy at six foot three, but this man has to be at least six inches taller.

  When he gets to the car, Maggie is the first out. She jumps into his arms and yells, “Uncle Gizzy!”

  He spins her around like she weighs no more than a feather before lifting her up on his shoulders. “If you reach up high, you’ll touch the sky,” he tells her in a deep gravelly voice that would sound dangerous if he weren’t clearly delighted by his charge.

  Maggie reaches up as high as she can before she convulses into a round of giggles. “Nope, maybe you’ve shrunk,” she teases.

  Gizzy Jacobs, rock legend, second only to Huck Wiley, pretends to drop her. When she squeals and grabs hold of his neck, he demands, “Shrunk? You better watch your manners, Squirt. There’s no way I’m ever shrinking. You got that?”

  She snuggles up to him. “I’ve missed you so much.” This little girl has these two men wrapped around her finger so tightly, they’d clearly do anything for her.

  “We’re never going this long again, you hear me? Your daddy and I have to do a better job at being in the same place at the same time.” Then Gizzy looks over and sees Huck. He takes three long steps before he’s at his side. “Brother,” he says as he wraps his free arm around him. “I’ve missed you, man.”

  Huck hugs him back. “I’ve missed you, too. Word on the street is that you’re bringing the house down every night.”

  The giant shrugs. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” Then his gaze wanders over to me. “Who’s this?”

  Huck takes my hand and pulls me to his side, “This is Amelia. She’s our good luck charm.”

  Gizzy eyes me like I’m some unknown species before he takes my hand in his—it’s like a bear’s paw, it’s so big. “I’m happy to know you, Amelia.” Then he looks at Huck and declares, “I’m going to need the full story here.”

  I hurry to say, “There’s not much of a story, Mr. Jacobs. Huck and Maggie are staying in my hometown for a couple of months and they kindly invited me along.” I smile up at Maggie who’s so high above my field of vision on her godfather’s shoulders that I have to crane my neck to see her.