“Well, excuse me if I’m not a fan of being labeled a groupie,” I hiss.

  “Groupie?” he scoffs. “Is that what you think of Logan and Stacy, that they’re groupies?”

  “No, of course not. They’re married and engaged. It’s different,” I explain, but I can already tell that I’m making a mess of this entire conversation.

  “And?” He crosses his big arms over his chest.

  “Why are we fighting about this?” I ask, blowing out a heavy breath.

  “Lauren, I don’t want to fight with you. I just don’t know why you can’t see it for what it is.”

  “Thanks for breakfast. I’m going to go start a load of laundry,” I tell him, choosing to ignore his comment as I set my plate in the sink. I need a minute to breathe, to get my emotions in check. My heart wants to see more than what this is, and I refuse to be weak. I refuse to be that girl, the one who thinks a man will change for her, that she’s the game changer.

  I take my time gathering a load of laundry and getting it started. Stalling as long as I possibly can, I finally make my way back to the kitchen where Tristan is closing the dishwasher door.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him.

  He turns to face me. “I know you don’t feel well, and I cooked and used most of those dishes. You just had toast.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “Come here.” He holds his hand out and I take it, allowing him to pull me into his chest. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not feeling well and I keep picking fights. I don’t mean to, I just get frustrated having to hide us. I’ll respect your decision for now, but we’ll revisit it when you’re feeling better.” He kisses my temple. “Now, what’s next?” he asks, pulling away.

  “What do you mean, what’s next?”

  “Cleaning. Let me get it knocked out so you can rest.”

  “You’re not cleaning my house.” I laugh at the idea.

  “Sure I am.”

  “Tristan, come on. Be serious.” I slap his chest lightly.

  He grabs my hand. “Tell me what needs to be done, Ren.”

  I love it when he calls me that. “I was just going to dust, vacuum, and sweep the kitchen. Oh, and I need to clean the bathroom.” I scrunch up my nose.

  “I’m on it,” he says, guiding me to the couch and gently pushing me to sit. “You sit here and relax.” He hands me the remote, then grabs the throw from the back of the couch and tosses it over me. “Where’s your reader thing? I assume you have one just like Logan and Stacy.”

  “I can’t just sit here while you clean.”

  Bracing his arms on either side of me, he bends down. “You can and you will. I’ve got this, babe. You need to take it easy.” He kisses the end of my nose and stands back to his full height. “Now, the reader thingy?” he prompts.

  “Uh, it’s on my nightstand.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be right back.” He strolls off down the hall toward the bedroom.

  Is this my life? What’s happening?

  Before I can contemplate further, he’s back, handing me my phone and my Kindle. With a kiss to the top of my head, he disappears into the kitchen.

  Opening my Kindle, I try to read but I can’t. Tristan Lewis, drummer for Soul Serenade, is, from the sound of it, sweeping my kitchen floor. If I go in there and try to stop him, I’ll end up right back here on the couch. I know Tristan well enough to know that when he makes a decision, he’s definite in his choice.

  A smile tips my lips. What would the rest of the band think about him cleaning my house? I wish I could snap a picture and send it to Logan.

  “What are you smiling at?” he asks, unwrapping the cord from the vacuum that he obviously found in the laundry room and plugging it into the wall.

  A chuckle escapes. “What do you think the guys would say if they could see you now?”

  He shrugs. “Don’t give a fuck. They’d do the same for their girl.”

  My heart trips over in my chest. “This is a little different, Tristan.”

  “Not going there with you, baby. We’re not fighting. You read”—he points to me, then to himself—“and I clean.” Then he proceeds to vacuum my living room floor.

  “Done,” I say, picking up her feet and placing them on my lap as I sit on the opposite end of the couch.

  Lauren covers her face with her hands to hide her blush. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Why?” I don’t get what the big deal is.

  “You’re you, and I’m me, and you definitely should not be cleaning my house.”

  “Now what?” I ask, ignoring her.

  “Thank you, Tristan,” she replies softly.

  “Come here.” I lean toward her and she complies, situating herself beside me. “Here,” I say, patting my lap. She rolls those big brown eyes, but I can tell from the small smile tipping her lips that she’s happy to oblige. Once she’s settled, I wrap one arm around her waist and slide the other around her neck. “I missed you,” I tell her, pressing my lips softly to hers. I couldn’t care less if I get sick. I want to fucking devour her, it’s been so long, but I know she’s sick so I restrain myself.

  “We talk or text daily,” she counters, pulling away from the kiss.

  “It’s not the same, Ren. I don’t get to feel the softness of your skin.” I trace the back of her neck with my thumb and she shivers in my arms. “I don’t get to taste your lips,” I say, kissing her again. “I don’t get to hold you like this.” I pull her into my chest, and she rests her head on my shoulder.

  “This is nice,” she agrees.

  It’s not an ‘I missed you too’ confession, but I’ll take what I can get. “You hungry? The soup I brought you last night is in the fridge, or I could go grab us something. You feel like eating?”

  “I am kind of hungry. Why don’t we run out and grab something from a drive-through?”

  “Lauren, I can take you out to eat.”

  “And risk being spotted? You’re supposed to be in Kentucky, remember? Besides, I’m sure being mobbed by fans is the last thing you want to deal with. We can just run through a drive-through, or I can go in and get it.”

  “Or you could stay here and rest and I can go get it.”

  “I’m better now. Just a bug, I’m guessing.” She looks over my shoulder when she says this, like she can’t meet my eyes. Is she actually sick? Is it more than just a virus?

  “Hey.” Gently grabbing her chin, I turn her to face me. “You’re okay, right? Are you sick, I mean more than just a bug sick? It feels like you’re hiding something from me.”

  “Of course not,” she says reassuringly. “I am hungry though.” She taps the end of my nose with her index finger, then jumps off my lap and holds her hands out for me. “Let’s go, drummer boy.”

  She’s smiling down at me, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “I’m driving,” I tell her, taking her hand and letting her think she’s pulling me from the couch. She’s a tiny thing.

  “Nope, you went out last night. Plus you’re my guest and I know the area.”

  “We’ve been here enough in the last year or so that I’m learning it pretty quickly.”

  “Doesn’t matter, you’re riding with me.” She smirks, then drops my hand and heads to the door, putting on her shoes.

  “Can we at least take the rental?” I ask, grabbing my shoes from the kitchen where I left them last night and joining her by the front door.

  “What?” She places her hand over her chest. “Are you ashamed of my car?”

  “No, but it’s so small.”

  “Suck it up, buttercup. We’re taking my ride. I love my Chevy Cruze.”

  “It’s a great car, babe, but really, let’s take the SUV.”

  “Nope. I’ll be out in the car,” she calls over her shoulder, grabbing her purse and keys from the small entry table and walking out the door.

  This woman.

  I take my time lacing my boots, letting her think I’m not coming. What she doesn’t know is that I would follow her anywhere. A concept that I’m just starting to understand myself. One bat of those long lashes and I’m toast. Who would’ve thought?

  When I open the door, she’s standing on the other side. “I thought maybe you decided not to come.” Her voice is soft, timid.

  Stepping out onto the front porch, I close the door, checking that it’s locked before turning to face her. Cupping her face with both hands, I make sure I have her full attention before speaking. “Not a chance,” I say with conviction. Her eyes light up at my words as I release my hold on her. “Let’s get this ride over with.” I wink to let her know I’m playing as I follow her down the steps and to her car.

  “So where do you feel like going?” she asks once we’re on the road.

  “I can eat anything.”

  “City Barbecue sounds so good right now. We can order a bunch and eat it for dinner too.”

  I watch as she licks her lips, thinking about the food. I’m thinking about biting that lip. “Sure, babe, I’m up for whatever,” I say when she glances over at me.

  “What?”

  “You were biting your lip.”

  “Oookay?”

  Reaching over the console, I grab her hand and place it over my cock. She gasps. “That’s what.”

  “Really? From me biting my lip?” she asks, sounding surprised.

  “Babe, you’re breathing. That’s all it takes with you.”

  “It’s worse than I thought,” she mumbles to herself.

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Lauren?”

  She releases a heavy sigh. “I said it’s worse than I thought. I mean, I know you’re a playboy—I’ve seen the awards shows and read the newspapers, but how do you manage to function? Do you just walk around… hard all the time?”

  Her cheeks are pink, which isn’t helping my problem. “There are two issues with that statement. First, did you listen to what I just said?” I ask her. She glances over at me and I can see the confusion on her still-pink cheeks. “Of course you didn’t,” I mutter. “Ren, I said, if my memory serves me correctly, that you’re breathing and that’s all it takes with Y-O-U,” I spell out for her. She opens her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it. “Second issue is that you cannot, and I repeat cannot believe everything you see, read, or hear from the television, newspapers, social media—any of it. It’s all fucking trash talk. Maybe twenty-five percent of it’s true.”

  “I’ve seen you photographed with a lot of women, and I’ve heard the stories,” she replies calmly, not taking her eyes off the road.

  Fuck me. “I won’t deny that I’ve dated. And I won’t deny that I’ve been with my fair share of women.” She visibly cringes at my words. “I was single, young and high on life. It’s a rush like no other to work your ass off and have your dreams come true. To stand up there on that stage and bust out a beat on the drums, to hear the roaring crowd. It’s better than any drug out there.”

  “I can imagine,” she deadpans.

  “It’s also lonely,” I confess. No time like the present to put it out there. If I want there to be a future between us, this conversation needs to happen sooner or later.

  “Lonely?”

  “Yes, lonely.” I rest my hand on her thigh. I can’t stand to be this close to her and not touching her.

  “You’re surrounded by people all the time.”

  “Right,” I scoff. “I have the guys, my family which I don’t see as often as I should, and now Logan and Stacy.”

  “And everyone else,” she says.

  She really doesn’t get it. “Lauren, those people aren’t there for me. They’re there for the fame. For their big break, or for the free ride they think they can get from latching on to a band member.”

  She’s quiet, letting my words sink in. When she pulls into the drive-through line, she turns to look at me. “Do you know what you want?”

  “You.”

  “Tristan,” she sighs.

  “Just get some barbecue and sides. A lot of it, if we plan on eating it later too.” Leaning over, I reach in my back pocket and pull out my wallet, handing her a hundred-dollar bill.

  “I can pay for mine.”

  “The hell you can, woman. Just pay for it.” I grit my teeth. Why is she so damn headstrong? So damn frustrating? She pulls up to the speaker and orders us four meals, then rolls her window back up while we wait our turn. She pays with my money and hands me the change. I take it from her, then drop it in her purse. I’ve never wanted to take care of someone before, never wanted to spoil them. Now I’ve found her, the one worth the effort, and she’s going to fight me the entire way. Nothing worth having comes easy, as they say.

  “I guess I never looked at it like that,” she says once we’re on the road back to her place.

  “Meaning?”

  “That they’re not there for you. The real you.”

  “Not many people know the real me. The guys, Logan and Stacy, my family, and now you.”

  “Me?” she questions.

  “Yes, you. You’ve never had stars in your eyes when you look at me.”

  “Is that a real thing?” she laughs.

  I nod even though her eyes are on the road. “It’s a very real thing. At first it was hard to see. We were young and living our dream, and the drama that came with it kind of sucked us in. Now we know better.”

  “You can have anyone you want. No one would turn you down—hell, any of you.” She says this like she can’t understand my dilemma.

  “You’re right, for the most part. However, they wouldn’t be with me for me, you know. They’re there for the rise in fame, bragging rights, whatever. You think these chicks who throw themselves at us really want an inked-up dude to bring home to daddy? There are three kinds of women in my world. The ones who want bragging rights, to be able to tell all their friends they fucked a rock star. Then there are the ones who want more than what they have and are looking for an easy way out. In the process, they turn easy and hence take themselves off the list of something more. They’re disposable.” Her brows are furrowed as she listens and drives. I take a deep breath and forge on. “Then there are the forever girls. The ones you would be proud to have on your arm and bring home to your momma. The ones who hold the power to turn you upside down, but oddly enough don’t want it.”

  “How do Logan and Stacy fall into these categories of yours?” she asks.

  “They’re forever girls. Neither of them made it easy for Kace or Cole. All four of them struggled to be where they are.”

  “Good answer.” She glances over wearing a grin. “That is my cousin, after all.”

  “My sister,” I say, still serious. “She’s a part of the fold, and I love her like a sister. Both of them. They’re a bonus to our little circle, and baby Drew.” I can’t hide my grin. “That little guy, he has us all wrapped around his little finger.”

  “Logan sent me pictures. He’s getting so big. I wish we all lived closer,” she says softly.

  “I have pictures on my phone. I’ll show you when we get back to the house.” Talk of Drew seemed to dampen her mood. Might as well try my luck. “You know, you could come back with me.”

  “What?” Her voice squeaks. “I can’t just up and leave. I have a job, and a house, and responsibilities.”

  “Then just come for a visit.”

  “I can’t take the time off work.” Something flashes in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can decipher it. She pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine. “Besides, what would we tell them, Tristan? That you were driving through Ohio—which is above Kentucky, I might add—and just happened to pick me up?”

  Grabbing the door handle, she climbs out of the car.

  She’s definitely going to make me work for it.

  I stalk toward the house, knowing I have to tell him. He thinks he wants me to go back to Nashville with him. He thinks he wants to tell our friends, our families, that we’re… what? Having sex? Hanging out? He’s going to change his view when I tell him, and I have to tell him. I’m still coping and adjusting to the news, but he’s here in my house. I have to tell him. It’s the right thing to do.

  “Hey,” he says, coming up behind me on the front porch. He slides an arm around my waist, resting his hand on my belly. I’m thankful that my back is to him, because I need a minute to school my features. If he only knew.

  Tell him.

  “Lauren, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just hate that we’re hiding this like a dirty little secret.” His lips brush against my neck.

  “Isn’t that what we are?” I’m being a bitch and I know it, but I just need a fucking minute to breathe. He’s been here since I found out. I need time to cry, and adjust, and mentally prepare that I’m going to be a mom.

  “You know better than that,” he says on a defeated sigh.

  Finally getting the key in the door, I twist the knob and walk inside. I kick off my shoes, toss my purse and keys on the entry table, and head straight to the kitchen, Tristan hot on my heels. He sets the bags on the counter and reaches for me. Before I can stop him, he’s lifting me onto the counter. Gently, he pulls at my knees on either side, stepping in as close as he can get.

  He cups my face. “Ren, I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that way, that you were disposable. You’re anything but.”

  Closing my eyes, I suck in a breath. I need to just put it out there, blurt it out. “Tristan, I—”

  My cell phone rings. Dropping his hands from my face, he grabs it from the counter and hands it to me. “It’s Logan,” I tell him.

  “Answer it. I know she misses you too.” He kisses me on the forehead and rests his hands on my thighs.

  “Hey,” I say over the lump in my throat. Talk about bad timing. Or maybe it was a sign, a sign that I shouldn’t tell him just yet. That I need to come to terms with it first.

  “Lauren? Are you okay?” Logan asks.

  “Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

  “I just put Drew down for a nap, so I thought I’d call and catch up.”