Читать книгу His For One Night - Sarah M. Anderson - Страница 12

Three

“Great set,” Kyle said, a note of pride in his voice. “It’s going to be a massive hit. The whole album. Very girl power. I wish I’d written half of it.”

“Be sure to tell the record label that, okay?” Brooke said, her cheeks beginning to hurt with all the smiling she was doing. She valued Kyle’s opinion and the crowd had seemed to enjoy the songs as well, so this was all great.

Except Flash Lawrence was here. What was she supposed to do now?

“I’m so proud of you,” Kyle added, giving her an awkward hug.

She hugged him back but her mind was stuck on Flash. She’d almost, almost gone up to him out there. There were a lot of people milling around, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal if she’d walked up to the bar and asked for something else to drink, right? People wouldn’t have made any connection between her getting a drink and making small talk with a random cowboy, right? Then she could’ve at least figured out why he was here. The only two possibilities she could think of were—this was either a stunning coincidence or...

Or he’d come to see her.

And as she had only mentioned the Bluebird appearance on her Twitter feed two days ago...

She’d bet good money Flash was outside waiting for her. Which meant she had to talk to him. Which meant she had to tell him about Bean. Her son.

His son.

Oh God, this was going to suck.

“Hey,” Kyle said, putting a hand on her arm. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she said, working hard for that smile. She’d kept Bean a secret for a lot of good reasons, but none of them came to mind now that she knew she’d have to tell Flash. Because the alternative was to do exactly what her mother had done—keep on hiding and lying for the rest of her life—and Brooke couldn’t do it. She was done hiding.

Or would be, just as soon as Flash knew. But to Kyle, she said, “Just relieved the new stuff is solid.”

Kyle gave her a worried look. “You sure? I know you, Brooke. I know how you write. That stuff...it seemed kind of personal.”

“We need to get going,” Alex said, all but hip checking Kyle into a wall. Bless her heart. “Sorry, Morgan.”

“Jeez, woman,” Kyle said, rubbing his shoulder. “You should’ve stuck with football.”

Brooke gave him another quick hug and made a not-exactly-quick stop in the ladies’ room. Damn it, she was stalling.

Not hiding anymore, she repeated to herself as she picked up her guitar case. Alex opened the back door for her and, as she walked out into the humid Tennessee air, Brooke felt it again—that tingling at the base of her spine.

“Brooke.”

That was all he had to say for her worst nightmares and her fondest dreams to come true at once because this was really happening.

Flash had come for her.

Oh, God—she wasn’t going to be strong enough because even just the sound of her name on his lips was making her resolve weaken.

It didn’t have the same effect on Alex. “Hey—back off,” she rumbled, stepping in front of Brooke. “Show’s over, buddy.”

“Brooke?” Flash said again. “I just want to talk. Privately.”

Yeah, she knew what happened when she and Flash had any privacy. At least the first time they’d hooked up, in her dressing room, she hadn’t planned to have sex with him. At least, not right then. But Flash was that rare, dangerous creature—an irresistible man.

Okay, so not total privacy. But maybe semiprivate would work.

Brooke put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said quietly as she stepped around her friend. “I know him.”

Alex leaned down to whisper, “I don’t like him.” Of course, her whispering wasn’t exactly quiet and, given Flash’s smirk, it was clear he’d heard.

Yeah, neither would Crissy Bonner. The record label executives would love Flash, though—a showy pro-rodeo cowboy would be great for PR.

But she didn’t want Flash to be a public relations bonanza. She wanted...hell. She didn’t know what she wanted. Except for some privacy. She owed him that much.

“It’s fine. Can you wait in the car?”

Alex glared at Flash and growled. But then she said, “Fine—but only for a few minutes,” as she took the guitar case from Brooke.

Then he did the ballsy thing and approached Alex. “Hi. Flash Lawrence. And you are?”

Alex gave him a look that made lesser men turn tail and run, but Flash held his ground. He wasn’t a coward, that much was for certain.

With a quick look at Brook, Alex said, “Alex Andrews. Don’t try anything funny.” She jabbed a finger in Flash’s direction and pointedly did not shake his hand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. As Brooke can tell you, I don’t have a sense of humor.” She couldn’t help the smile that danced over her lips at that bold-faced lie. She remembered quite well how easily she’d laughed with Flash. It would’ve been one thing if he’d just been amazing between the sheets. But he’d been so dang easy to be with—kind and funny and tender and hot and...

He’d made her like him.

She’d liked him a good deal. Seeing all those news headlines about his violent temper and plea deals had felt like a betrayal, almost.

Because she’d been wrong about him.

Had any of it been real?

Flash stood his ground as Alex crowded into his personal space on her way to the car. The one with the baby bucket-seat base in the back seat. True, there was a blanket thrown over it because God forbid anyone should notice that Brooke Bonner had a child restraint system in her car, but still. Hard evidence of Bean was practically within line of sight.

How was she supposed to do this, damn it?

Because Flash looked so much better in person than he did in her dreams. Maybe it was just the jacket. But maybe it was him. There was something almost...calm about him.

With a huff, Alex slammed the driver’s side door. It wasn’t like Brooke and Flash were alone—the door to the Bluebird’s kitchen was still propped open and Kyle might come out at any second. But for this brief moment, she and Flash had something resembling privacy.

“You look great,” Flash began.

Brooke barely managed to avoid rolling her eyes even as the compliment sent a thrill through her. She was still at least one size above where she’d been before she’d gotten pregnant, and her mother was pushing her hard to lose the last of the baby weight so people wouldn’t get suspicious. To know she looked okay was a relief.

No, no—she was not falling for superficial compliments. Because that was just the generic sort of statement that any man trying to get laid would open up with.

“What do you want, Flash?”

Please don’t say something romantic ran through her mind in the key of G at the exact same moment say something romantic did the same thing in harmony. She’d have to write that down later—could be a good hook.

Flash whipped off his hat and launched the smile at her that had melted her heart—and other parts—so long ago. “I wanted to see you again, but I get the feeling that you’re not exactly happy with me right now.”

“You picked up on that, did you?”

“It was subtle,” he replied, that easy grin on his lips, “but I did notice a little anger in those songs.”

“Well, your powers of deduction are in fine form.” She made a move to step around him, but he mirrored her movements. “What, Flash? I’m tired.”

“I want to apologize,” he said, moving closer.

She inhaled sharply. This sounded like a trap. “Oh? And what, exactly, are you apologizing for?”

“Don’t know. But—” he went on when Brooke scoffed heartily “—clearly I hurt you and, judging by the songs I heard tonight—which were great—I hurt you badly. So let me apologize, Brooke.”

Lord, did he have to sound so damned earnest about it? She almost wished he was cocky and overconfident. This would be so much easier if he was trying to talk his way into her panties again. This time, she’d be ready for him. This time, she wouldn’t make a mistake.

But, no—the cocky cowboy she’d taken to bed was nowhere to be seen, and in his place stood a serious man staring at her with so much longing and tenderness that, if Brooke allowed herself to think about it at all, he might take her breath away. So she didn’t think about it.

“Fine. Apology accepted. Good night, Flash.”

“Brooke,” he said, her name a whisper on his lips. “I’ve missed you so much and the hell of it is, I don’t know why.”

“Really?” she snapped at him. Anger was great. Anger was not being seduced by his sweet words or intense looks. Anger was reminding her exactly who he was—a smooth talker with a violent streak—and, more importantly, who she was. He’d gotten her pregnant and she’d had to deal with the fallout without him because she couldn’t trust him. Her whole life had been upended because of this man because she’d fallen for his sweet words and right now, he wasn’t even that smooth at the talking. “That’s not an apology, Flash. That’s an insult.”

“Would you listen?” he said, a warning in his voice. But then the weirdest thing happened—he took a step back and drew in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “What I mean to say is, you were amazing—gorgeous and funny and smart and so easy to be with, and I’d be a fool not to want more of that. With you,” he added quickly.

She snorted again, crossing her arms in front of her chest as different harmonies for don’t say something romantic played in her mind.

“We had one night. A one-night stand, as you so eloquently put it.” He ran a hand through his hair and then looked at her again, and this time the need in his eyes really did take her breath away. “That was all it was supposed to be, damn it, and...and it wasn’t. Not for me. I wanted more with you then and I want more with you now.”

“That’s all well and good, Flash, but it’s not enough. Not for me.”

She needed to tell him about Bean. It wasn’t fair to him to keep his son hidden away, and it wasn’t fair to Bean to deprive him of his father when the man was right here.

But she couldn’t.

Not until she knew what he wanted and not if all he wanted was another night. Because she couldn’t make a mistake like Flash Lawrence again. She needed him to be a father to his son. She needed him to be a co-parent, at the very least.

She needed to know she could trust him. And right now?

Not a lot of trust to go around.

Eyes closed, he took another one of those weirdly deep breaths and then he stepped up to her. Even though the night was warm and sticky, she felt the warmth from his body as if he’d shined the heat of the sun down upon her. And it only got worse when his hand came up to cup her face and his thumb stroked over her cheek. She knew she should push him away, but when he touched his forehead to hers she couldn’t help leaning into his touch, breathing in the clean scent of him—leather and man and, Lord, it was wonderful.

“I followed your career, watched your climb up the charts. Celebrated your number-one hits and cheered your award-show wins. Saw your face every night I closed my eyes,” he said, his voice soft as his breath brushed over her skin like a lover’s kiss. Her body clenched in an involuntary response to his touch, his words. His everything. “I tried so hard to forget you, but I couldn’t. And I’m so sorry.”

He wasn’t making any sense. He wasn’t. But damn it all if he wasn’t reminding her exactly why she’d taken him into her bed, because even when he was speaking in riddles he still made it sound so good—and feel even better. “Because you can’t forget me?”

“No.” He laughed a little. She looked deep into his eyes and saw unflinching honesty as he said, “I’ll never be sorry for that. But I looked you up and I realized, what if you’d looked me up, too? What if you read about the arrest and trial and plea deals? So I’m sorry for how you must’ve felt when you read the headlines. I’m sorry you saw the worst of me, playing out in real time on the internet. I’m sorry I destroyed a perfect memory of a perfect night, because that’s what you were to me. A perfect memory.”

She inhaled sharply, her eyes stinging even as she squeezed them tight. That was a very good line, one that was already weaving its way into the chorus her brain was trying to write.

“I came here tonight not to tell you I wanted you—although I do,” Flash went on. His other hand settled in the curve of her hip, gently pulling her into him and, weak as she was, she let him.

Her breasts brushed against his chest. “Then why?” she whispered, afraid of his answer even as she was desperate to hear it.

“I came here to tell you what happened after the headlines. After I got sentenced and suspended from the circuit, I did my community service and completed my anger management courses. I made a promise to myself and my family that I was going to rein in my anger and stop letting it rule me.”

“You did?” Somehow, her hand was underneath his jacket on his chest—not pushing him away but resting right over his heart. She could feel it beating, strong and steady.

He turned his head ever so slightly, his lips brushing against her temple, then down her cheek. “I also quit drinking. I won’t say I’m an alcoholic, but when I drank I couldn’t keep a handle on my anger, and that’s when I got into trouble. I’ve been sober for eight months and counting.”

“Tonight?” Her voice came out breathy and tight, and the space between her legs felt warm and liquid with want because she hadn’t had a man in her bed since him and she missed him.

No, no—she missed sex. Which was normal. She’d been cleared to resume her nonexistent sex life from the private OB/GYN—who her mother had made sign a nondisclosure form, HIPAA be damned—six weeks ago, as long as she used reliable birth control, and it had taken everything Brooke had not to laugh in the woman’s face.

So she didn’t necessarily miss this man. She just missed men in general.

Right.

“Ginger ale. In a beer glass.” Then he brushed his lips against hers, and she was powerless to do anything but open her mouth for him. When he licked inside her, she tasted sugar and ginger, not beer.

Pop shouldn’t be so seductive, but this was crazy. How did he know that was exactly what she needed to hear? How could he taste so good?

How could she still want him so damned much?

Because she did.

He broke the kiss but he didn’t pull away. Somehow, they were closer now and she could feel the heat of his erection pulsing against her belly. She could feel her pulse matching his, beat for beat.

“I want to see you again,” he murmured against her lips. Then his mouth was trailing over her cheek, toward her ear. “I need more than just one night, Brooke. But I won’t ask you for anything else.”

“Yes.” The word slipped out before she could think better of it, before the logistics of another night in Flash’s arms could rear their ugly head. She needed more from him, too.

“Where? Say the word and I’m there, babe. I’m anywhere you need me.” As he spoke, he pressed his knee between her legs, putting pressure right where she needed it. She couldn’t fight down the moan. God, it’d been so long since another person had touched her for pleasure. Her pleasure. “Just tell me you need me.”

“My house. I need...”

But reality reared its head.

Her mother was at her house, babysitting her son. Mom didn’t live with Brooke and Bean, but she did live in what the real estate agent had described as the mother-in-law house on the property, a completely separate building almost 250 yards away from the main house—close enough for baby emergencies, but not under the same roof.

However, if Brooke waltzed in with Flash on her arm, they’d never get to the bed. Mom and Flash—that was a scene Brooke wasn’t ready to face tonight. Maybe not ever.

“I need half an hour before you come over.” She could get Mom out of the house and give herself a chance to change her mind. Or at least make sure she had some condoms because she wasn’t going to make the exact same mistake again.

A honking horn tore through the night. Flash and Brooke jerked apart just as Kyle Morgan emerged from the back of the Bluebird. Guiltily Brooke glanced at the car, where Alex glared at her, then at Flash, then back at her.

Right. They had an audience and Flash had just kissed her, and she’d probably been about twenty seconds from completely throwing herself at him.

“Hey, Brooke—everything okay?” Kyle asked, sounding meaner than she’d ever heard him. “Where’s Alex?”

Flash took another step back. He looked at Brooke like he was waiting for her to lead here.

“In the car.” Kyle stopped next to her, eyeing Flash with a healthy dose of warning. “This is a friend of mine.”

“Great set tonight,” Flash said, cutting through the awkwardness and stretching his hand toward Kyle. “Flash Lawrence. Sounds like you had some big hits waiting to happen in there. Eric Church, maybe? He could bring down stadiums with that one song about rebels.”

Kyle glanced warily at Brooke before returning Flash’s handshake. “Thanks. Toby Keith was also eyeing ‘My One, Her Only’ for his next album.”

Flash whistled appreciatively and Brooke felt Kyle relax. How did he do that? Flash Lawrence could charm his way into any situation. She’d fallen for that charm once.

She couldn’t afford to fall again.

As Flash and Kyle made small talk about country singles and Flash offered his opinion on what played well at the rodeos, Brooke had to accept that somehow, Flash had known exactly what she needed to hear—that he wasn’t the same man he’d been when he’d made all those awful headlines. He’d worked on being a better man.

Had he become the kind of man she’d want around her son?

Except she wasn’t just a single mother thinking about dating again, and Bean wasn’t just her son. He was Flash’s son, too, and she couldn’t keep his baby away from him, no matter what. She knew what it was like to grow up without a father. She couldn’t do that to Bean. Not if Flash was willing to step up.

Was he?

“Well, it was great meeting you, Morgan,” Flash said, shaking Kyle’s hand again. “Looking forward to hearing your next big hit.”

Kyle actually blushed at that. “Always great to hear from a fan. Will we be seeing you again soon?” He held out his hand to Flash.

Brooke didn’t miss that we.

Flash heard it, too. He cut a glance at her as he shook Kyle’s hand again. “That depends on Brooke.”

Kyle leveled an intimidating look at Flash and didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, he pulled Flash off balance. “You’re damn right it does. Alex isn’t the only one you’ll have to go through if you hurt her.” Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the threat of violence dissipated into the night air.

Surprise registered on Flash’s face but, after a beat, he broke out that smile Brooke saw every time Bean grinned at her. “Trust me, hurting Brooke is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

Then both men turned to her.

So this was the moment when she had to make a decision. Was letting Flash back into her life and her son’s life a good idea, or was it another mistake waiting to happen?

Knowing her luck, both.

Just like Bean had been both the biggest mistake of her life and the best thing that had ever happened to her.

“Let me give you my info,” she told Flash, holding out her hand for his phone. She would have preferred not to do this with Kyle standing right next to her, but this was still better than having Kyle catch them kissing.

Flash unlocked his phone and handed it to her. Her heart going a mile a minute, she put in her address and number and added the note, “half an hour” to give her enough time to get Mom out of the house and...and decide how she was going to handle Flash.

She was not bringing Flash home to have wild, crazy, great sex with him again. Absolutely not. This was about Bean. Her world began and ended with him now. That’s all there was to it because a boy needed his father. Even if that boy was only three months old.

She handed the phone back and turned to Kyle with a studied casualness she definitely wasn’t feeling. “Hey, if I need a little help on a few songs, you’re interested?” Because everything on the Roots album was...energetic, to say the least, and Kyle was good for ballads.

Kyle’s eyes lit up. “Hell, yeah, sweetheart. Just give me a call. Good meeting you, Lawrence.”

But the man didn’t move. He just stood there, watching her and Flash to see what was going to happen next.

“Morgan.” Flash tipped his hat. “Brooke. I’ll be seeing you.” He packed a hell of a lot into his gaze before he turned on his heel and strolled out of the parking lot.

She about broke out into a sweat as she watched him walk away. One thing was for sure—if anything, Flash’s ass had only gotten better in the last year. A man who rode broncos and bulls for a living had the legs and backside to go with it. The first time they’d had sex—against the wall of her dressing room—he hadn’t even taken his chaps off. She’d had a view of that ass in her dressing room mirror that even now threatened to make her melt.

She wasn’t inviting him over for sex. She had a single-minded purpose here—informing him he was a father.

But Lord, that man made every part of her weak. Always had and, apparently, always would. She just needed to be strong enough to get through the next few hours.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure she was that strong. Especially when he turned and tipped his hat to her, the model of the country gentleman.

“Honey,” Kyle started when Flash was out of sight. “Did I just meet the inspiration for all those new songs?”

“It’s not like that,” she protested, and to her own ears, it sounded weak. “He’s a friend.”

Kyle gaped at her. Yeah, he wasn’t buying it, either.

“The way he looked at you? No way. That’s a man who wants a lot more than ‘friendship,’” he said, throwing in air quotes for good measure. “And the way you’re looking at him? Come on. I may be an old man, but I’m not blind.”

Brooke didn’t have a snappy comeback to that, but Alex saved her. “Are we going?” she all but shouted through the car window.

“Be careful!” Kyle called as Brooke climbed into the car. “And call me if you need backup!”

Yeah, like that was going to happen. She just waved as Alex sped off.

How would people like Kyle react when he found out that she’d been sitting on the juiciest of details for months? She hoped people wouldn’t be too hurt that they hadn’t been important enough to be in the know, but, seriously, aside from the executives on her record label, the private OB/GYN and nurse who’d delivered Bean at Brooke’s home, the equally private pediatrician and Alex—and Mom, of course—no one else knew.

But she couldn’t hide her son forever. She wanted to take him to parks and the zoo and...and just out. She wanted to talk to other moms she knew about what was normal and what wasn’t. Hell, she wanted to take some pictures with Bean, not just cell phone shots. She wanted to do all the normal stuff with her son.

She didn’t want to hide. Not from her friends, not from her fans and not from Flash.

Worse, when she daydreamed about all those fun things, she wasn’t alone. Flash was next to her.

In her perfect world, Flash was by her side during the day and in her bed at night. Her son didn’t have to grow up without his father, like Brooke had. And she didn’t have to feel so alone anymore.

But that fantasy was just that—fantasy. Instead of that perfect world, she’d invited him home to tell him about Bean and also to not have sex with him.

The tension rolling off Alex was palatable, which had to be the only reason Brooke heard herself repeating the lie, “He’s just a friend.”

“Uh-huh.” Yeah, Alex wasn’t buying any of that as she took off for the 440.

From there, they’d take 40 west to the house she’d bought with the money her uncle had managed not to embezzle. Her home was on five fenced-in acres. If she had another hit record and successful tour, she had plans to completely renovate the sprawling mid-century ranch house. She hadn’t even been able to paint the rooms while she’d been pregnant because the smell of primer had made her sick.

“The show went well, don’t you think?” Brooke tried again, desperate for a subject change.

“Hon,” Alex said in her growly voice, “did you tell him about Bean?”

This was the problem with best friends. There was no hiding anything from them. Because of course Alex had figured out that the one show she’d missed was the rodeo in Texas.

“No,” she said, because more lies would only be an insult to Alex’s intelligence.

Alex thought that over as she began to weave through traffic like the devil himself was hot on their tail. Finally she asked, “Are you going to?”

Brooke had closed her eyes. Flash was the boy’s father. She simply didn’t have a choice.

“Yes,” she admitted, wondering why it felt like such a defeat. “But...”

“Yeah, I know—don’t tell your mother,” Alex grumbled. “She’ll find out sooner or later.”

Later, Brooke prayed. Please let it be much, much later.

Her mother had sat on the secret of Brooke’s paternity for twenty-some-odd years. Brooke could keep Flash a secret for just a little bit longer.

She was going to tell Flash about Bean and hope all he’d said about not letting his anger rule him was the truth. But...

God, it was selfish and wrong, but she wanted just one more time with him before she told him she was the mother of his child.

One last grasp at the woman she’d been a year ago. A lifetime ago.

Humming a melody that built itself around the words, she had to wonder—was bringing Flash to her home another huge mistake or the making of another perfect memory?