by Roni Loren
He was good at two things. Music and sex. Maybe he should stick to his strengths and let Oakley be. All he’d probably do is mess things up.
Foster tilted his head toward Lucy. “Want to hold her?”
Pike stuck his hands in his pockets. “No, I’ve gotta get going.”
Foster frowned. “Come on, Pike. You’re not going to hurt her. And she won’t hurt you.”
Pike swallowed hard as Foster walked over to him. Foster held Lucy out, and she gave Pike a curious look during the transfer. Pike awkwardly got his arm around her, his heartbeat ticking up a notch. She smelled of clean, sweet things—air-dried cotton and spring—and was heavier than she looked.
Lucy grabbed Pike’s hair with surprising strength and declared with an air of triumph, “Da!”
Despite his anxiety, a laugh escaped him, her pure exuberance hard to be immune to. “All righty, then.”
Foster smiled. “That’s what she calls Jace. Da for him and Pop for Andre. I think she’s telling you that you have blond hair like her daddy’s.”
Pike looked down at her. Her green eyes were big and curious, but there was a hint of mischief there. “She looks like Jace when she smiles.”
“Like she’s up to something?”
“Exactly.” He took her little hand in his, testing out the feel of it. He hadn’t held a baby since he’d helped his mom with his younger siblings, and the feel of her little fingers closing around his forefinger brought back a rush of memories—both good and bad.
Back then, he hadn’t flinched around babies. They’d been part of his everyday existence. While his friends were riding bikes, he was learning how to mix formula and put a baby down for a nap. He was counting out the monthly WIC rations and hoping they would last. Helping his mom had felt like a prison sentence back then. He’d wanted to be like the other kids. He’d hated being stuck in that role. But holding Lucy helped him remember the good moments in between the stress of those days—the ways babies could look at you like you held the answers to the universe or how they could laugh from deep in their belly or how exciting it could be when they learned how to do something new. He remembered the goofy lengths he used to go to to get his brother or one of his sisters to smile—standing on his head, dancing like a fool, and making faces. They’d been the bright spots in his otherwise bleak existence in those early years.
He brushed a dark curl from Lucy’s forehead and found himself wondering what his and Oakley’s baby might look like. Would he or she have dark hair like Oakley and Reagan? Or maybe the white blond hair Pike had sported when he was little? Would their child love music like they did? Would she laugh with her whole body like his little sister had?
His lungs seemed to shrink in size as he tried to inhale a breath, his chest growing tighter and tighter.
Lucy moved her hand from his hair to give his cheek a light pat. “Da!”
He snorted, the sound coming out choked as he swallowed back the emotion that was trying to well up. “Goddammit.”
Foster reached out and gave Pike’s shoulder a squeeze. “Hey, it’s going to be all right. You’ve got this. After all, who can resist the famous Pike Ryland?”
Pike snorted and shook his head. “Clearly, you haven’t met Oakley Easton.”
Foster grinned. “I look forward to meeting your woman then.”
His woman.
That did have a nice ring to it.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Oakley sat in the control room with Pike, watching the kids rehearse through the viewing window, and trying to ignore how good Pike smelled. She hadn’t seen him in a few days, but the night he’d come over while she was working hadn’t been far from her mind since it had happened. Her heart had lurched when she’d woken the next morning and found him gone. But when he’d called her later that day to see if he could come by, she’d told him no. She had thought she could handle it, roll with the punches, deal with her feelings. But even a taste of that hurt had made her terrified of what it would be like if she got in any deeper. The fact that she was missing him so much when he wasn’t around was stupid. And dangerous. And dumb.
He’d told her he’d landed the Wanderlust tour and would leave in a few weeks—on the road through the summer and into the fall. Baby or not, he’d be gone. And she needed to prepare for that.
Pike leaned over a microphone and hit a button. “That sounded great, you guys. Why don’t you do a run-through of ‘Blue Skies’ now and we’ll see if we’re ready to record?”
The kids murmured to one another, their excitement evident to Oakley even though she couldn’t decipher what they were saying through her headphones. She knew they’d all been waiting anxiously to do the real recording. Reagan hadn’t talked about anything else for days.
Pike smiled her way, and she took off her headphones. He slid his set down to hang around his neck. “I think we’re going to make it on time with this. They sound great. As soon as Reagan took over the lead, everything gelled. Even the kid on drums is finally getting his cues right. We may be able to get one track recorded before I have to head out tonight.”
Pike had told her the rest of his band was meeting up here with the guy in charge of the Wanderlust tour to go over last-minute details with them—which he said meant going out, getting the guy drunk, and schmoozing him. So they were on borrowed time this evening.
She smiled at the scene in the window. “The kids sound fantastic. I can’t believe how far they’ve come in just a few weeks. This might actually work.”
He laughed and then put a hand over his heart, feigning a wounded look. “You doubted my immense ability to hone raw talent into greatness?”
She sniffed. “I will give it to you. You’re pretty amazing at this producing thing. I know my experience is limited. I’ve only worked with two other producers in my life. But you definitely have that thing. You hear the opportunities in the song that I would’ve missed, the chances to elevate it. And you can pluck out the strengths in the performers. Like I never would’ve pegged Tenisha as a singer since her voice doesn’t have a lot of range, but that girl can harmonize with the others like a champ.”
Pike smiled, openly pleased. “Thanks, mama. That means a lot because most of the time I’m still feeling my way through this side of things. The guys thought I was crazy for buying this place. But I love it. That’s always been my favorite part of being in a band—the creation side of it. I love performing, but figuring out how to create a song out of nothing, how to play to each person’s talents—that gets my blood pumping.”
The childlike enthusiasm in his voice warmed her. Pike was easy to look at anytime, but the passion he housed inside that outer shell was what drew her to him. The man loved what he did and it showed. She barely remembered what that felt like. “I get that. I used to feel that way when I’d write new songs. I didn’t even care if anyone was going to hear them. It was the process that I loved.”
“Yeah, that reminds me …” Pike leaned back in his chair, pulled a stack of papers from the counter behind him, the springs in the chair giving a creak, and slid a document in front of her. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Her belly clenched, the legal document in front of her filled with lots of tiny print. What the hell? Her mind went straight in one direction. Was he already drafting up legal stuff in case there was a baby? She didn’t know if she could handle that right now. “What’s this?”
He rocked slightly in his chair, as casual as could be. “So I kind of did something behind your back. You can hurt me later if you feel the urge.”
Her eyes scanned the top of the document but it was all legalese. “What are you talking about? What is this?”
“Remember that track you recorded here?”
Her gaze swung toward him, anxiety hopping like jackrabbits in her stomach. “Hard to forget, Pike.”
He smiled. “Yeah, well, I edited out the uh … X-rated second half of the recording and layered in some more instrumentation to make a demo of the first s
ong, ‘Dandelion.’”
She blinked. “You did what?”
“I just wanted to see how it would sound when it was polished up. And damn, Oakley, it sounds great. You won’t even believe how good it turned out.”
“Why would you do that?” Her voice sounded thin in the small space.
“Look, I know if I would’ve asked, you would’ve shut me down. But I have a friend at a music publisher who was looking for some ballads. I had a feeling ‘Dandelion’ would be up her alley. So I might have sent it to her. And she might have loved it.”
“What?”
He nodded at the document. “She wants to take on ‘Dandelion.’ They’ve been looking for a song for Harley Jay’s new album and Harley loved it. The advance isn’t crazy money or anything, but it’s Harley Jay. Her last album went gold, and she’s got lots of buzz around her, so this could mean real money down the line. And they want to see your other stuff.”
Oakley stared at him, looked back at the document, then at him again. None of the words were making sense. This couldn’t be happening. “Pike …”
He reached out and took her hand. “I know I should’ve asked you first. You’re not committed to anything unless you sign the contract. But I wanted you to see that I wasn’t bullshitting you about your songwriting. You’re good, Oakley. You could do this for real. Make real money. Drop the late-night phone calls.”
Pike’s eyes were earnest, his hold on her hand tight, like he really was afraid she’d hit him or something. But all she could do was stare at him in disbelief.
Someone wanted her song. A popular singer wanted her song. Her song.
Tears came to her eyes, weird uncontrolled emotions surfacing. Excitement. Fear. Awe. She couldn’t breathe.
“Hey,” he said, squeezing her knee. “You okay?”
“I—Pike. Are you sure this is real? Like I sign that contract and it’s real? Or can they change their mind? Or …”
His smile was quick and genuine. “It’s real, mama. You’re a gifted songwriter. This is your dream for the taking.”
She put her hand on her forehead. “This is crazy. You sold my song. You sold my song. I’m not sure if I want to beat you for doing this behind my back or kiss you.”
He gave her a roguish grin. “You could do both. Didn’t I hear Reagan say that she was spending tomorrow night at your brother’s?”
She snort-laughed. “Oh my God. You seriously just made my dream happen so you could get laid, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “Totally. I have no scruples. Did it work?”
She shoved his shoulder. “No. I mean, I love you for this, but …”
Pike’s smile froze halfway up. Shit. Had she just said I love you? She totally had.
“I mean, I told you we can’t keep doing this,” she said, trying to cover her slipup.
He grabbed the hand she’d pushed him with, his gaze going pensive, the humor leaving his voice. “Why?”
“You know why.”
His thumb rubbed over her knuckles. “Tell me.”
She looked down. “Come on, Pike. Don’t make me say it.”
“I want to hear it, Oakley.”
She sighed. “Because it’s starting to mean something, all right?”
He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to him. “Newsflash, mama, I’m okay with that.”
She closed her eyes. “Pike, if this is because I might be preg—”
“Stop. This isn’t about whether you are or you aren’t. I’m not asking you to spend tomorrow night with me out of obligation or some sense of duty. I like being around you. This is new territory for me, too. Believe me. This has gotten messy and complicated. Feelings are involved. But I’m of the school of living in the moment. And in this moment, I want to be with you. We’ll deal with the rest another day.”
“I take the test Saturday morning, Pike.”
“I know, mama,” he said quietly. “And we can be together for it. Spending the night together has got to be better than staying up all night worrying about things you have no control over, right?”
She raised her gaze to his and smirked. “But I’m so good at worrying about things I can’t change. I’m like gold-medal good at it.”
A slow grin moved across his lips. “And I’m gold-medal good at getting your mind off those things. Were you worrying about anything after I showed up at your house the other night?”
“Well, the donuts were a good distraction.”
He reached out and pinched her thigh. “Never an inch with you.”
“And always a good number of inches with you.”
He laughed and rolled his chair a little closer until their knees were touching. “Is that a yes, Ms. Easton, to me and my inches?”
She indulged a bit and let her fingers trace a fray in the knee of his jeans, feeling the heat of his skin peeking through. “Why is it so hard to say no to you?”
“Because you’re an incredibly smart woman. And an incredibly horny one. A fantastic combination, by the way.”
She shook her head, smiling, and leaned closer, holding his gaze and feeling the instant spark that simple connection could create between them. “Guess it’s a date, James.”
“Mom?”
Chairs rolled back instantly, the little wheels on the wood floor obnoxiously loud as Pike and Oakley shoved away from each other. They might as well have had a blinking sign over their heads declaring their guilt.
Crap on a stick. How had she forgotten that they weren’t alone? Oakley schooled her face into an all’s-good expression, knowing that her cheeks were probably flaming, and turned to her daughter. “Hey, honey, what’s up?”
Rae looked between Oakley and Pike, her dark eyebrows pinched together, and let the door shut behind her, blocking out the noise of the other kids. “I—well, we went through the whole song. We wanted to know if we can record now.”
“Oh, right, the song,” Oakley said, sending Pike a look.
Pike slapped his thighs. “Yep, I think we’re good. Let’s get set up for a run-through.”
But Rae didn’t move. She eyed the two of them like a judge evaluating guilty defendants. “Mom, were you about to kiss Mr. Pike?”
Pike waved a hand. “What? No. Don’t be silly. I had something in my eye, and she was trying to help me get it out.”
Reagan’s head tilt said she wasn’t buying it. “Y’all were looking at each other like people do in the movies right before … you know. And you didn’t hear any of us when we asked if you liked the song.”
Oakley let out a breath. Damn. She’d raised too smart of a daughter. Pike looked ready to come up with more of a story to protect Oakley’s secret, but Oakley didn’t want to lie straight-faced to Reagan. She got up and walked over to Rae. She put her hand on her head, giving that soft, short hair a stroke. “Yes. You’re right. I wasn’t going to kiss Mr. Pike, but we do like each other a lot, so that’s probably why we were looking at each other funny.”
“Like, like like?” Rae asked, poking a finger beneath her bright blue cast and scratching absently.
Oakley smiled. “Yes, that kind.”
Reagan seemed to contemplate this for a moment, her forehead wrinkling, then she nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Oakley repeated.
Rae peered over at Pike. “If you marry my mom, would I get to live in your condo with Monty?”
Oakley choked on what she’d been about to say, and Pike froze in his chair, his stunned expression comical. “Uh …”
Oakley cleared her throat, trying to swallow past the constriction. “No, baby, it’s not … We’re just going to dinner and stuff. That’s it.”
Reagan’s shoulders dipped. “Oh. Okay.”
The disappointment in her voice was evident—surprising the hell out of Oakley. Rae, who didn’t like any change in her routine, was bummed her mother wasn’t getting married and moving her to a whole new place? Oakley couldn’t wrap her mind around that.
“Reagan, why don’t you
go tell the group to get into their positions? I’ll be in there in a second to make sure we’re set up. We’ll record vocals first, all right?” Pike said.
Rae tucked the hand without the cast in her jeans, a dejected expression hovering on her face, and turned toward the door. “Okay, I’ll tell them.”
She went back into the main room, and Oakley sagged against the wall. “Sorry about that. She doesn’t understand—”
Pike raised a hand, halting her. “No worries. Monty will be very flattered. She actually handled that pretty well, I think.”
“It helps that she thinks you’re cool.”
He stood and walked over to her, crowding her into a corner where the kids wouldn’t be able to see them. He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. “No, it helps that she’s awesome. And her mom isn’t so bad either.”
Oakley gave herself the brief stolen moment, loving the feel of him pressed against her. She pushed up on her toes and kissed him long enough to make it count but not long enough that they could get caught again. “Guess this means you’re all mine tomorrow.”
He smiled and slid his hand onto her hip, giving it a squeeze. “For as long as you want me.”
She smiled, a pang of sadness going through her.
If only that were the case.
Reluctantly, she stepped back and let him go into the recording room to set everything up. When he returned, he leaned over the mic. “Reagan, this is going to be all you, sweetheart. You’ll hear the back tracks in your headphones. Let’s just do the vocal alone first. Then we’ll tape some of the background parts with the rest of y’all.”
Rae gave a nervous nod through the glass, and Oakley sent her a thumbs-up. Pike flipped a few switches and the music filled the small space, saving them the trouble of headphones this time. He pointed at Rae and gave her the cue.
Reagan leaned close to the microphone, lips almost against it, and closed her eyes. Then the sweet strength of her voice filled the speakers around Oakley. She could barely stand to look at her baby and not cry. Her girl was so beautifully talented and brave. Eleven years old and singing with the conviction of a seasoned pro.