Rock with Me (With Me in Seattle, #4)

“But…”

“Listen.” He kisses me, his smile still in place, and I calm, just a bit. “We don’t even need to break ground until we both agree that we’re ready to take that step, Sam. The land will be here.”

“But it’s so far out of town.”

“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head and chuckles almost shyly. “I took the scenic route. I was trying to kill time while waiting for the radio to play your song.”

“How far out are we?”

“Only ten minutes from downtown.” He runs his fingertips down my cheek. “Think of the closet you can build, baby.”

“Oh God, it’s not fair to bribe me with a closet.”

“I’m not bribing you.” He tosses his head back as he laughs. “I want you to have full input on the house. You can have anything you want, whenever you’re ready.”

“Did you already buy it?” I ask, already knowing the answer. He looks down and frowns nervously and then looks back into my eyes.

“Yes. For us. For when we’re ready. It’s gonna happen, sunshine. You’re mine.”

He’s right. And I love him for not pressuring us into jumping into it right now, but rather letting things progress as they should.

“So, when we’re ready to move in together,” I clarify, “we’ll draw up plans and have Isaac build us a house here, on a seventy-five foot cliff?”

“Or on the grassy part over there.” He agrees.

I look out over the gray water, covered in dark clouds with white seagulls flying over it looking for food. A ferry is carrying people to one of the islands.

“It’s a beautiful view.”

“Yes, it is.” I glance over to find him staring down at me with serious eyes. “I want to look at it for the rest of my life.”

Wow.

“Thank you.” I hug him tight, bury my face in his chest and breathe him in.

“For what, sweetheart?”

“My song. This place.” I lean back and look up into his handsome face. “Being so good to me.”

“You’re welcome.” He kisses my forehead and leads me back to the car. “Wanna get take-out and a movie on the way home?”

“And cupcakes.”

***

“Seriously, why do men think all this blood is cool?” I cringe as another poor bad guy gets blown away on the big screen TV in Leo’s bedroom.

“Ask your brother, he’s the expert.” Leo laughs and takes another bite of his lemon cupcake. I eye it longingly and he pulls it out of my reach. “Mine.”

“But I didn’t get lemon.” I bat my eyes at him and cup his dick in my hand. “Please?”

“You don’t fool me.” He smirks and pushes my hand away. “You’re a selfish brat when it comes to cupcakes.”

“Meanie.” I pout and cross my arms over my chest. My cupcake was devoured long ago.

He smirks again as his phone rings.

“Nash.” He swallows his cake and frowns. “When?”

I don’t like the tone of his voice. He pauses the movie and sits up straight, checking his watch.

“Okay man, don’t panic. I’ll call the airport and get the jet ready. You just get your shit together and meet us there. Yeah, I’ll call the other guys too. Tell Lori we love her.”

He hangs up and runs his hand down his face.

“That was Gary.”

“What’s wrong?” I immediately ask.

“Lori’s in labor.”

“She’s early.” I frown.

“Yeah, we thought we had time. Gary’s still here. We need to get him down to her.” He jumps up off the bed and just looks around, his eyes worried, like he doesn’t know what to do first.

“Okay, you make your calls and I’ll pack your bag.” I reach for his large duffle.

“Are you sure? You should come with me.”

I fold his jeans and a few tees and lay them in the bag. “I can’t, babe. I have interviews and Luke called today while we were at the cliffs. He wants to chat.” I shake my head and smile at him reassuringly. “It’ll be okay. Get Gary home; check on Lori. Tell her I’m sorry that I can’t be there.”

“Okay.” His mouth is grim and I can see the internal struggle of taking care of his guy and being here with me. “I don’t like it.”

“It’ll be okay.” I repeat and hug him tight. “Make your calls.”

“Thanks.” He kisses my forehead and gets to work, calling the airline first to make sure the jet will be ready within the hour.

Must be nice to have a plane at your beck and call.

As he paces the bedroom, placing call after call, I gather his things and pack his bag. His toiletries, socks, underwear. He really has great underwear. They’re all the really short boxer-briefs, in black. Some say Armani along the elastic waist. Some say Ed Hardy. God, they’re hot.

“Why are you staring at my underwear?” He asks with a laugh.

“I was picturing what you look like in them.” I smirk and throw them in the bag. “You have hot underwear.”

“What’s up with your obsession with underwear?”

“I just like it.” I shrug.

He shakes his head and makes his next call. I run downstairs to grab his computer and anything else he might need down here when I spot a notepad on the couch. The top sheet is covered in half-finished song lyrics. I read them and grin. This is definitely not a ballad, badass or otherwise.

I flip to a fresh sheet and scribble a note, fold it in half, and carry the rest of his things to the bedroom to add them to his bag.

“I think I’m about ready.” He frowns as his eyes move around the room and over to me. “Will you drive me to the airport?”

“Sure, but I don’t have my car.” I remind him. “I’ll have to drive your car.”

“I’ll drive to the airport, and you can drive it home, if you promise to be careful.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m a reckless driver?” I ask and plant my hands on my hips, feigning annoyance.

“No, I just want you to be careful with my car. It’s new. And really cool.”

“It’s okay.” I shrug and laugh when his jaw drops in disbelief.

“Did you just disrespect my car?”