SNOW ON THE BEACH
This is a bad fucking idea. Even so, I’m standing outside Lake’s door, as promised, an hour and a half after leaving her.
Stopping at my apartment in Boston was a necessity. And not only because I needed to shower. No, I had to get the fuck out of there and into my own space, because from the minute I realized Lake wasn’t wearing pants, I was sporting a massive hard-on. The last thing that girl needs is to see her ex-boyfriend’s father with a woody.
I’m like a prepubescent teen, forgetting proper social etiquette and lusting over a woman almost half my age. Fuck, she’s the same age as my children.
It’s just wrong.
Not to mention the conflict of interest. I own the label that produces her music.
The lights are flashing red, the gate has been dropped, and the sirens are blaring, but I’m still driving forward like a damn freight train isn’t about to take me out.
It’s pure idiocy.
I knock and listen for footsteps, all while telling myself that I’m doing the right thing. I own the record label, so it’s my job to make sure Lake is in a good place for the tour. And as Paul’s father, I need to make sure she’s okay.
It’s complete and utter bullshit, but when she opens the door and a look of shock mixed with perhaps joy at my arrival crosses her face, I stifle my moral compass. “Ford!” she yelps in what sounds like pleasure as pink travels from her chest to her cheeks, just like my goddamn gaze.
And my dick’s hard again.
I’m so fucking screwed.
I let out a surprised laugh at the joy in her tone. “That’s me. Can I come in?”
With her lips pressed together, she nods and backs herself against the door, motioning inside. Her hair is wet, like she just got out of the shower, and it’s tied back in a ponytail. An oversized black shirt hangs off one shoulder, exposing a bright pink lace strap. Her face is devoid of makeup, and she’s no longer pantless. It’s wrong, I know, but I’m hit with a bolt of disappointment at the sight of her hot pink leggings. Though it dissipates a bit when I get a good look at the fabric which clings to her legs in a way that should probably be illegal, reminding me of precisely how goddamn perfect she looked this morning.
“You came back,” she says softly as she plops onto the couch and pulls her legs beneath her.
My heart sinks a little at the statement. “I told you I would. Did you have plans?” I motion to the door. “I can get out of your way if you want.”
“No. I just—” She sighs. “I’m surprised is all. I figured that you’d send someone to check on me. I told you I wouldn’t do anything else crazy. I don’t need a babysitter.”
Ignoring the fact that I may be the one who needs babysitting, I settle next to her on the couch and point to the television. “Figured we could watch a movie and order room service. With the kids at their mother’s, I don’t have much to do this week. I thought maybe you’d like the company.”
Lake’s dark brows knit low on her forehead as she studies me. “You want to watch a movie with me?”
Without giving her an answer, I pick up the remote. “How does Serendipity sound? Looks like it’s available on demand.”
The confusion dissipates from Lake’s face as a pretty smile takes over. “That’s my favorite movie.”
“I know.” I turn on the TV and navigate to the on-demand options.
Instantly, the pinched brows are back. “How?”
“Ninety-eight percent of the world knows. You’ve mentioned it in like five interviews.” I click on the movie’s icon before she can ask me any more questions. I’m not sure I have sufficient answers for the majority of them. Or at least not answers I’m willing to share.
Both of our phones light up intermittently during the movie. I try not to get too distracted, but I can’t completely ignore the outside world. Paul has been handled. My other kids, as I told Lake, are busy with their mother. And Lisa has the media covered. My job today is to keep Lake out of the public eye until her show tomorrow night. Once her best friend is here, that job will be significantly easier.
We’ve leaked a couple of hints about a special guest appearance during her last three shows of this year, and after her show on December thirtieth, she has a two-week break. By the time she performs in Los Angeles, Paul’s antics and Lake’s reaction will be old news. She’ll return home and get back to her job. We just need to make it through the next few shows.
“Oh my God, I would kill for one of those sundaes,” Lake groans as John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale devour delicious-looking frozen hot chocolate.
“Ever been?” I ask, hitting Pause on the remote.
“To the restaurant?”
“Yeah. It’s your favorite movie. Surely some guy has been smart enough to take you.”
Lake stares at me like I have two heads. “I haven’t dated a single guy who had the first clue what my favorite movie is, let alone bothered to plan that epic of a date.”
“Idiots,” I mutter, scrubbing my hand over my face. “You’ve dated nothing but idiots.”
She laughs. “Yeah, it’s kind of my MO.”
My phone beeps again, and I wince at the name displayed on the screen. Lake’s father. He’s rightfully pissed. Lake’s phone goes off too. She unlocks it and types furiously before tossing it like she wishes she could chuck it out the window.
Immediately, my hackles go up. I don’t like seeing her upset. “Someone bothering you?”
She blows out a breath and examines her hands, which are folded together in her lap. “Not the someone who should be bothering me.” She peeks up at me. “I know I shouldn’t want him to be blowing up my phone, but what does it tell you that I dated your son for two years and he hasn’t so much as called to apologize?” The second she finishes the question, she slumps against the couch cushions and turns away again, probably embarrassed.
She has absolutely nothing to feel embarrassed about. It’s my son who should be. He’s the one who didn’t see what a goddamn treasure he had right in front of him; beside him; fuck, even beneath him.
Just the idea of them together makes me feel a rage that is unacceptable. It’s the same anger that hit me the first time he brought her to dinner at my home.
He doesn’t deserve her. She belongs with someone like me.
Yeah. Those were my first thoughts when he called her his girlfriend. In that moment, I knew I was fucked.
“I forbade him from contacting you.”
She side-eyes me, wearing an apprehensive frown. I don’t elaborate. The admission is meant to ease her pain. I made the demand, and he didn’t fight me on it. An utter disappointment that somehow comforts me now.
“He won’t be bothering you,” I promise.
Lake worries her lip, but when she nods and her tense shoulders ease, I feel like I’ve accomplished something today.
My phone rings on the cushion beside me, and this time, I pick up. I need this call to clear my head. I can’t be looking at my son’s ex this way. Can’t reach out to touch her, to comfort her, even if my arms feel empty and my hands itch to do just that.
“Hey, Gav.” I stand and head to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Coming out tonight?”
I look back at Lake. She’s chewing on her finger, zoned out on the movie we left paused on the screen, lost in thought. She’s got her legs, still clad in hot pink, pulled up to her chest now, and her long brown hair is escaping her loose ponytail. I spin back and survey the skyline, fisting my free hand to keep from going to her, pushing her hair back behind her ear, and taking her right here on the couch.
She’d probably let me.
What a sick thought.
“Can’t, sorry.”
“Ah, still cleaning up last night’s mess?”
My stomach turns because that’s what I should be doing. Not adding to it. “Something like that. Good luck this weekend.”
Gavin chuckles. “We wouldn’t need luck if you’d let your son play with us now.”
“He’s finishing college.” I shouldn’t have to say it. He knows my reasoning.
“Fine, fine. But next year…”
“Next year, he’ll get you the cup.”
Gavin hisses. “Don’t fucking jinx us.”
“Please, like you aren’t thinking the same thing.” I hang up to his laughter and take in the scenery for another moment. The sky is mostly gray. Status quo for Boston in winter. Windows fogged over from the cold. Bare trees. Dirty slush along the roadsides and piled up in parking lots.
In contrast, the warmth in this room is almost stifling. Every bit of the heat is because of the woman behind me. The one I’m trying desperately to ignore.
“If you have to go, it’s okay,” she says quietly, pulling me from my thoughts.
I don’t turn around when I reply. “Actually, I have an idea.”
“Oh yeah?” Her tone is immediately lighter.
If I had the balls to turn around, I’d probably see a matching expression on her face. But I need another minute before I do that. I press my hand to the wall and hang my head, trying to get my shit together before I say fuck it and do something I’m sure she’ll slap me for.
With a deep inhale, I turn around. “What do you think about taking a ride?”
Lake’s responding smile is a shy one. One the world never sees. But she’s got her feet firmly planted on the ground and her shoulders back. “Where are we going?”
Unable to help myself, I smile. “That’s a surprise. Put on something warm, though. I’ll call downstairs and have the valet bring the car around.”
When she pulls the red scarf from her bag as we’re stepping through the front doors of the hotel, I want to put my fist through the glass.
As if reading my thoughts, she drops her chin and mutters, “Don’t have much need for scarves in LA. This is the only one I had.”
I shake my head and can’t help but give her a sardonic smile. “Need a hat? I’ve got a matching one.”
She coughs out a laugh as I brush past the valet holding open the passenger door. “You noticed that, huh?”
“You’re driving,” I tell her as I round the car and open the driver’s side for her.
She pauses with one hand on the doorframe on the passenger side and eyes me over the roof. “What?”
“You can drive, right?” I shoot her a smirk.
Her face lights up. “No one lets me drive.”
With a laugh, I point to the wheel. “Then you better get in before I change my mind.”
She squeals and does a little dance on the sidewalk, then mutters an excuse me to the valet as she rounds the car. I can’t help but laugh. The girl is so fucking polite, so perfect, so goddamn sweet. As she brushes past me, her shoulder skimming against my arm, her sugary scent engulfs me, and I find myself leaning in for another hit. I’m frozen to the spot, watching her as she gets cozy in the driver’s seat.
Once she’s situated, she looks up at me and grins. “Ready, Daddy Ford?”
Groaning, I knock on the roof of the car and shut the door.
As soon as I’m settled, her questions start again. “Which way?”
“Already set the GPS.” I tap on the screen and hit Start, then let the woman’s voice direct Lake through traffic. I keep my mouth shut as she winds her way to the interstate and let her focus since she’s a little trigger-happy when it comes to the brake. It’s a lot of oh shoots, sorry about thats, and that car came out of nowhere comments.
But once we’re on the highway and the road opens up, I allow myself to sit back and relax.
“Who called you just before you suggested this trip?” Lake asks.
“Gavin Langfield. He owns the Boston Bolts.”
“Right.” She nods, not taking her eyes off the road. “Paul mentioned they drafted Daniel. Is he excited?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, if it was up to him, he’d already be playing.”
With a shrug, she dons a soft smile. “It’s good that he has to finish college first. I wish my parents had upheld that same kind of rule.”
Surprised, I sit forward a little and shift so I’m looking at her profile. “Really?”
“Yeah. I probably wouldn’t have listened, but standing on this side of things, I see the benefit. If there comes a day that I can’t perform, I have nothing to fall back on.”
“Lake, you wouldn’t have to work another day in your life if you didn’t want to.”
She shrugs. “I like working. Even if there comes a day that I don’t write music, I can’t imagine doing nothing.”
“Same.”
“Did you always want to do this?”
Cocking my brow, I give her a teasing grin. “Own a label?”
Her responding laugh is breathy. “You know what I mean. Work in music.”
Relaxing in my seat, I take a minute to consider her question. “I never made the conscious decision. Music has just always been a part of me.”
“You play?”
I huff out a laugh. “Guitar, but not very well.”
She glances at me, offering me one of her sweet smiles again. “I could help.”
“Ah yes, because you have so much free time. What about you? You always wanted to do this?”
The sigh Lake lets out is a weary one. “I’m sure you’ve heard me tell my story during a hundred interviews.”
“That was Lake the musician. I want you. Not the filtered version. Tell me something about you that Lake Paige would never say in an interview.”
For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything. She exits the highway when the GPS prompts her to, and when she comes to a stop sign, she grips the wheel tight and swallows thickly. Finally, blue eyes meet mine across the car, and in the moonlight, she glows. “I don’t like sex.”
“Seriously?” I cough out a surprised laugh. That was the last thing I expected to hear come out of her mouth.
She slaps a hand over her face and lowers her head. “Ermygod, I can’t believe I just said that.”
I’m still in shock, but the words swirl around in my mind, making my blood heat, stirring up feelings I’ve already fought off once today. “Eyes on me,” I grind out.
Obediently, she drops her hands. Her cheeks are tinged pink and her shoulders are slumped, but she doesn’t look away. Fuck me, her compliance is too much of a turn-on.
“Seriously, you don’t like sex?”
With her lip pulled between her teeth, she shakes her head. “Why would I? It always feels like a lot of work or like I’m not really there. I’m nothing but a prop. It’s another performance. I’ve never felt that connection I sing about. The moment when two people become one. The heat, the passion, the…” She falters, pulling back a fraction.
I keep my eyes on her, silently imploring her to finish. Damn if she doesn’t have my heart beating out of my chest.
“The love,” she finally says. “I’ve never felt that. So yeah, I just don’t get the big deal surrounding it.”
She turns away from me, and when traffic clears, she turns onto the road that leads to the beach.
Once parked, she stares out the windshield silently, her hands still on the wheel and her shoulders practically touching her ears.
With irritation simmering just below my skin, I get out of the car, round it, and throw open her door. “Goddamn idiots.”
“Hmm?” she says, looking up at me with wide eyes, as if she’s just realized I’m still here.
“The men you’ve dated. Every one of them. Now come on. Let’s get some fresh air and forget about them.”
“We’re walking on the beach?” she questions, though she slides her palm into mine and allows me to lead her down to the sand.
The ocean is reckless in front of us, thrashing and angry as it rolls up onto the shore. I’ve never related to a body of water more.
“Yes.” It’s a fight to keep my grip loose on her hand when I come to a stop and turn to her. I want to squeeze it tight and pull her close. “I’m going to show you how a real man would treat you.”
With that damn red lip between her teeth again, she tilts her head up to look me right in the eye. As she does, a single snowflake lands on the tip of her nose. A delighted squeal falls from her lips. “Oh!”
Fat flakes fall from the sky after that, one after another. Lake lets go of my hand and spins with her head tipped back and her arms outstretched. “It’s snowing,” she whispers, like the magic will stop if she draws too much attention to it.
Right now, though? She’s the magic. The way she moves, so carefree. Not worrying who will see her or what they’ll think leaves her reactions effortless.
Just as we can’t pocket the snowflakes because they’ll melt the instant we touch them, I know I’m not supposed to touch her. But fuck, that doesn’t stop her from grabbing for the snowflakes, and suddenly I find myself reaching for her. I pull her against my chest, stealing her magic for just a few seconds.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, her breath unsteady as she looks up at me.
“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I murmur back, my mouth far too close to hers.
I think we both know it’s not the snow I’m talking about.
