Just One Week (Just One Song) (30 page)

I notice when she gives in. If I cared to ask her what she’s thinking, I’m betting it’d be something about debating the merits of having a one-night fling with a drummer in a rock band.

“Thirty minutes.” Her voice is quiet, almost scared, yet determined. This is what all normal, everyday chicks dream of, I imagine. Getting hit on by a rock star.

I’ll make her fantasy come true. Really, it’s my gift to her.

“Let me take you to lunch.”

She stops outside a door at the far end of the hall. The door is half-open, but I see Garrett’s cap hanging on a chair so I know we’re at their room. I don’t really want to go in, but now that I’m here, it’ll look too obvious if I don’t.

Suddenly, her nervousness is gone. It’s replaced with the look that every guy wants to see. Her black eyes get a little bit hazy and I see her pulse beating in the vein on her neck. Her pale pink scrubs might look boxy, but as her breath picks up, her chests heaves upward. A small smile appears.

“I already ate lunch.”

“Dessert then.” I’m not asking anymore. I just want to take something from her even if it makes me the largest prick in the world. I’m desperate for it. Not her. Just desperate to forget. And she’ll do just fine.

“Want me to meet you somewhere?”

I shake my head. “I need a ride to my place in Malibu.” It’s not far away. Fifteen minute ride, tops, from the hospital. And it’ll give her time to back out. She can pull over, or just drop me off if she changes her mind and I’m pretty sure I won’t give a shit.

“Thirty minutes then.” I watch her turn and walk away. Her back is a little bit straight and the clipboard is hanging loose in her hand down at her side.

She’s either found her confidence, or she’s trying to show me that she’s really good at faking it.

I don’t care either way. I just have to waste thirty minutes of my time in Chloe and Garrett’s hospital room because I know if I go back to that waiting room, I’ll have Zack to deal with, and Nicole too if he told her.

No, thank you.

“Garrett?” I ask quietly as I walk through the door. There’s a curtain pulled closed so I can’t see where Chloe’s bed, but I can see the chair that has Garrett’s hat, hear voices on the television, and a monitor is beeping.

“Chase? Come in, man.” I push back the curtain and smile at Chloe as I clasp Garrett’s hand.

“How you doin’, doll?”

“Tired.”

She sounds tired. She looks like a little doll, curled up and covered on the bed with her belly sticking out to the side like she shoved a watermelon under her shirt when she left the house today. “I’ve been up for almost a full day, but I’m too nervous to sleep.”

“The nurse told us everything seems to look okay. I just wanted to check on you … see for myself.”

Garrett’s eyebrows pull together giving me a ‘what the fuck?’ expression. I shrug. Out of all the guys, I’m the last one who’s likely to come in and check on Chloe giving labor.

“The doctor said it could be hours yet. You guys don’t all have to wait around for us. Go home and get some sleep,” Garrett takes a large whiff. I know what he’s smelling. I stink. Seriously. “Take a shower. We’ll call you when there’s news.”

“Nah … it’s all right,” I say and sit myself down in the chair, my legs straighten out, and I clasp my hands together, resting them on my stomach.

We talk for a few more minutes about Chloe and the baby. She’s been given pain meds and can’t feel anything below her waist. I don’t understand why more women don’t make the same decision. Pushing a watermelon out the size of a grapefruit without pain meds? Insanity.

“What are you doing in here?” Garrett asks a few minutes later. He can tell I’m stalling.

I don’t see the point in lying. He’ll find out soon enough.

“Zack’s pissed I hit on the hot nurse out in the waiting room, so I figured I’ll hide out here so I don’t have to deal with Nicole and Sammy freaking out on me.”

Sammy can be like a little tornado when pissed. She spins around and ducks and weaves like Muhammad Ali in a boxing match, shouting and waving her arms in crazy abandon. Nicole can be just as fierce. And since she’ll be pissed about me doing something behind Mia’s back, she’ll also be fiercely protective.

“What about Mia?” Chloe’s voice is tight. Yeah … she’s pissed too.

“She doesn’t want me. I’m moving on.” Just like that. Easy. As. Fucking. Pie.

“If I wasn’t strapped to this bed with monitors all over me and needles stuck into me, I’d kick your ass, Chase.”

I laugh once. “Try it tiny girl.”

“I still might. What in the hell are you thinking?”

I stand up, brushing nothing off my thighs, and shrug. “Nothing. I don’t want to think about anything.”

And leave the room. Except I’m too much of a chicken to go through all that shit all over again back in the waiting room so I walk to the nurse’s station. When I get there, Ashley is missing but another – just as pretty – nurse is sitting behind the desk. I lean against the counter, crossing my arms.

“Where’s Ashley?”

Her eyes widen and her hands start to shake. There’s a lot of shit that isn’t so great about being famous. But this … it’s the best part. Sometimes it isn’t fun to be recognized. It’s really not. But when all you want to do is pretend you’re an asshole and get a quick piece of meat, it’s the best thing in the world.

“She went to change. She’ll be back soon.”

I nod and just like that, Ashley appears on my side.

“Ready?” I ask.

If she’s disappointed or offended by my rudeness, she doesn’t show it. Her jeans are fitted on her like she took the time to hand paint each individual stitch and I was right based on the curves from the tank top and the hips at the top of the jeans. Her hair is down, just passed her shoulders, and all one length and she’s now sporting a shiny pink lip gloss. She’s pretty. Innocent. But I see the willingness in her nervous eyes and I’ll gladly take it.

Perfect. Distraction.

“Can I get your autograph?” says the nurse who’s sitting behind the desk.

“Amber …” Ashley scolds, and her face turns pink again. What else will turn pink on her? Is she ticklish above her left hip bone like Mia?

Shit. I can back out now. Tell her I changed my mind, go home and shower, and then come back and wait with all the band members like the nice guy I am.

But I’m not. And this whole charade proves it. So I wink at Ashley and grab a piece of paper that the newly named Amber is holding out for me with slightly trembling hands. I sign my name with an X and an O for good measure before handing it back to her.

“Let’s go.”

“Be safe,” Amber calls out. It’s a warning with a touch of humor. And it’s not for my benefit, either. These girls will be talking about this day for months. And I’m going to be on the highlight reel.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about. We’ll be safe.”

She says nothing but her step falters a little bit.

“You can back out now, you know. I’m not promising anything more than …”

Her soft little voice cuts me off and she smiles up at me. “Dessert?”

Dessert. Sex. They’re so easily wrapped up together sometimes. I nod without saying anything. At least we’re on the same page.

I walk with her to the elevators, thankful I reach them before the waiting room. Zack is in the doorway to the room, though. His arms are crossed and he’s scowling when he sees me hit the down button on the elevator.

I pretend I don’t see him. Instead, I keep my smile focused on Ashley as she starts talking about her job and why she chose to become a nurse. I think I might have asked her.

Blonde hair.

Blue eyes.

If you want to kiss me, you’ll have to have a mint.

I don’t do relationships either, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends who see each other occasionally.

I want you.

Shit.

Everything Mia has said to me, every smile she has thrown my way, and every memory of her hands on my body, is on a rapid spit-fire pace through my mind like an automatic assault rifle pounding a pain into my chest and my brain.

I should stop the car. I should have Ashley pull over and tell her that even though she just pulled into my neighborhood, I’ve changed my mind. She’s not the one I want. Her eyes are covered with large, round black sunglasses. I can’t see her eyes, but her hands have been fidgeting with her hair and her nails have been in her mouth since we pulled out of the parking lot.

Fifteen minutes of awkward conversation. We both know what we’re going to my house for and while it’d be better if I put her at ease first, my muscles are knotted and my shoulders are tense because all I see is Mia in the hospital bed. Mia in a bed, bandages wrapped around her chest, doping out and talking about rainbows and color, swishing boats, and unicorns.

I am the world’s biggest prick.

I toss my keys on a table as soon as we enter my house. “Drink?” I walk to the kitchen without looking back at Ashley. She’ll either follow me or she won’t.

“Got any tequila?”

One eyebrow shoots up. She’s more nervous than I originally thought. I should not be doing this.

“Listen,” I say while staying a few steps away from her. “I’m not normally this big of an ass. And if you want to leave, I get it. I just need to forget something for a while and I’m hoping you can help with that.”

“I’m a distraction?” It’s like she can read my mind. I nod and I watch her consider this. How does she feel about straight up being told she’s simply being used for a few hours?

She shrugs and offers me an innocent smile. “It’ll be a hell of a story to tell the grandkids someday.”

I grab the bottle and pour the shot. “I’m all out of limes.”

She slams it back and grimaces as it burns. “One more.”

I take the second shot with her. My eyes lock on hers. Make me forget.

I raise one eyebrow, silently asking her if she’s really okay with this. It’s the last out I’m giving her. Unless she says no. I’m not that big of a prick.

Ashley takes a deep breath and rolls her shoulders back. I’d laugh if I actually knew her. She’s trying to bring back some confidence, but she’s so little that it doesn’t make much of a difference.

She grabs the bottle of tequila and takes a large swig straight from it. It’s impressive. “I’m okay. A little nervous,” she starts rambling. “I’ve fantasized about you guys for so long.”

There’s probably very little that can make a guy’s dick get harder any faster than when a woman admits to fantasizing about you. Even if she doesn’t know you. Unfortunately for me, it’s not working today. But maybe I just need to know more.

“What were they?”

I’m making her uncomfortable and I don’t really care. It’ll either loosen her up and make this easier, or she’ll bolt when she realizes she’s embarrassing herself.

She smiles. The first real smile I’ve seen from her and her whole face lights up. She could be embarrassed she’s admitting this to me, but I think it’s just that the tequila has taken affect.

“Not that …” she says, quickly backtracking. Nuh-uh. I legitimately want to hear this. “Just that I’ve been a huge fan of Zack for so long … and you … you’re big.”

She doesn’t know how big I am. I’m guessing she’s not talking about that part.

“What do I do?” And like a lion hunting, I take a few slow steps toward her, backing her up against the counter. My arms lock on both sides of her, trapping her. She looks down at my arms and slowly trails her eyes along the muscles and the veins that stick out a little bit on them and brings them up to my chest, before fully tilting her head back and looking directly at me.

“You kissed me.”

I lean down. Christ, she’s short. My nose runs along her jaw. The scent is all wrong. She smells … nice. Like vanilla. But it’s nothing like Mia. I press my lips right below Ashley’s ear and more goose bumps appear all over her neck. I laugh softly.

“Did I kiss you here?” I ask, and press another kiss against her jaw as she shakes her head and breathes out a ‘no.’

“Tell me.”

“Lower.” She clears her throat. My teeth grind together. What the hell am I doing? I want this. It’s too bad my dick hasn’t gotten the message yet. He’s not thinking this is a good idea at all, and it’s not often him and I are in a disagreement about sex. “Much lower.”

Yes. That’ll work. I move my hands from the counter top, bending down and pick Ashley-I-think-that’s-her-name up, setting her on the counter. This height is better. Moving in between the legs that she willingly spreads, I raise one eyebrow and then lower myself and kiss her collarbone.

This is not the right spot and we both know it, but I’m hoping I can tease my dick into agreeing with me.

Except she tastes all wrong. And now that her hands are rubbing up my arms and down the front of my shirt, her hands don’t fit right. Nothing about this chick is right. I try to force myself to get past it. There’s been lots of girls I’ve had sex with over the years that didn’t mean anything - didn’t fit right or taste right - and I never let it stop me before.

I break my own rule of no kissing fans on the lips and move to hers while my hands move under her shirt. Her lips are soft and slippery from the lip gloss. They taste like fake cherries. Slowly, I raise her shirt and she moans into my mouth. At least someone is going to enjoy this because based on the lack of movement in my jeans, it sure as hell isn’t going to be me.