Break_An Enemies-to-Lovers Stand-Alone Rock Star Romance Page 16

  The prosthetics he wears on both legs from the knees down and the fact that his left arm appears to have been amputated below the elbow only make him more interesting. I’m not normally into older men, but with his rugged good looks, perfect teeth, and salt-and-pepper hair, he looks like he should be standing on the deck of a gleaming yacht, modeling Rolex watches, not putting on prosthetic limbs and helping people make a peaceful ascension to the great beyond.

  “I would love to photograph you,” are the first words out of my mouth as I shake his hand. “I’m so sorry. That just kind of came out. I’m a photographer. I’m…so embarrassed.”

  Ben narrows his eyes at me while Ponti, Frank, and Dr. Miller laugh.

  Dr. Miller places a gentle hand on my arm. “I’d be happy to do it. I’ll get you a business card with my personal number before you leave.”

  My stomach bubbles with giddiness as I realize this is how I’m going to become a great photographer, by taking risks. “Thank you so much.”

  Ben glares at me as Dr. Miller and an Asian nurse help Frank into a wheelchair so they can take him up to the second floor in the elevator.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I whisper as Ben, Ponti, and I follow another nurse up the staircase.

  He shakes his head. “I can’t believe how jealous that little exchange with the doctor made me. Like, I could rip his one remaining limb off.”

  I roll my eyes. “Get used to it. If you get to kiss beautiful women in movies and music videos, you can’t complain when I take pictures of gorgeous men who are missing three limbs.”

  “Gorgeous men? You’re into him, aren’t you? I could see it in your face.”

  I sigh as I grab his hand and lace my fingers through his. “Relax. You’re the only gorgeous man I’m into. Besides, you can’t really be jealous when you have three more legs than Dr. Miller does.”

  It takes him about one second to pick up on the innuendo. “My third leg has a name, you know?”

  “Oh, really?” I remark as we reach the second floor and follow the nurse down a corridor.

  “I call it The South.”

  “The South?”

  Ben flashes me a wickedly sexy grin. “Yeah, I call it The South, because it will rise again. And when it does, I will beat it again.”

  “Aw. That’s cute,” I reply, following the nurse through a door into a bedroom. “Guess you can call me Yankee Doodle.”

  He leans in and whispers in my ear, “I can’t wait until tonight, when you’ll be riding my pony and I’ll be sticking my feather in your hat.”

  Every cell in my body wants to reach out and grab him, but I have to wait at least another few hours while we get Frank settled in and all the paperwork signed. Not that I’m complaining. I want to spend as much time with Frank as I possibly can for the next few weeks, but being forty minutes away in Bodega Bay is going to present an obstacle. Especially since all my equipment is in my office. That includes my video editing software, which is on the iMac in my office, because my ancient MacBook Pro laptop doesn’t have the memory or graphics capabilities to handle Adobe Premier without crashing every ten minutes.

  I don’t want to wish away my time with Frank, but as I watch Ben chatting with Dr. Miller, I just want to fold him into my arms for the kind of hug that turns into smoking hot, emotional sex. Oh, God. I haven’t fucked Ben in three years and I’m still addicted to his Yankee Doodle.

  Once the paperwork is complete and Frank’s intravenous painkillers have him drifting off on a cloud of morphine, it’s almost four p.m. and we’re all starving, having skipped lunch to stay with Frank. Ponti, Ben, and I head to our favorite burrito place in the Castro District. By the time we place our orders at the counter and find an empty table to wait for our food, Ben looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

  I scoot my chair closer to his and nudge his shoulder. “Hey, you did good today.”

  He lowers his hands and looks at me sideways before breaking into a slow smile. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  I shrug. “Eh, I could have done more if I’d had breakfast at Alberto’s.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s very zen for my dad to die in a haze of Alberto farts.”

  “I don’t know. I’m told my Alberto farts have a certain…aged quality to them. Like a fine wine.”

  Ponti shakes his head. “You guys are the grossest couple I know.”

  “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Ben says, grabbing my face and planting a loud kiss on my forehead.

  A girl who looks to be about thirteen suddenly materializes next to us, wearing a “Hayes-Z” T-shirt and an expression of complete shock on her pale, freckled face. “Oh, my God. Is it really you?” she says, trembling as she stares at Ben.

  Hayes-Zs are one of Ben’s many fan clubs, a name they came up with because of a collab Ben did with Jay-Z on his first album.

  Ben chuckles as he stands up and rounds the table to give the girl a hug, which only makes her tremble even more. “Good to meet you. What’s your name, girl?”

  She covers her mouth and glances at me like she’s hoping I’ll magically tell Ben her name. Turning back to Ben, her eyes widen even more as they fill with tears. “Oh, my God. I’m so embarrassed,” she says, wiping away tears. “I’m… I’m Melissa. Oh, my God.”

  Ben grabs some napkins out of a dispenser on our table and hands them to her. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Do you live here, Melissa?”

  She looks to me again, like she wants me to confirm that Ben is really talking to her.

  I can’t help but chuckle. “It’s okay, honey. He’s really not as cool as you think he is.”

  Melissa laughs then immediately covers her mouth and looks up at Ben apologetically. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at that.”

  Ben laughs and shakes his head. “No worries. Don’t pay attention to that mean old lady. You want something signed?”

  She finally smiles as she nods her head and turns around for Ben to sign the back of her T-shirt.

  Without a moment of hesitation, Ben pulls two Sharpies out of his back pocket, a black one and a silver one. He chooses the silver one, since her T-shirt is black. Melissa looks like she’s about to faint as Ben stretches the fabric of the T-shirt taut over her shoulder and signs his name.

  She turns around and clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Thank you so much. You don’t know what this means to me. Your music means so much to me.”

  “Come here,” Ben says, beckoning her into his arms for another hug.

  Her shoulders bounce as she devolves into actual sobs and I’m stunned into silence. As I watch her leave with a woman who looks like her mother, I shake my head in amazement.

  Ben takes a seat next to me again and grabs a napkin. “Here,” he says, handing me the napkin.

  Only when he does this do I realize I’m actually crying, too. “Ouch. My heart. That was way too adorable,” I say, dabbing the corners of my eyes.

  Ponti laughs as a restaurant employee arrives with our burritos. “I want to see your skinny ass try and eat that entire thing,” he says to me, grabbing a napkin and tucking it into the collar of his T-shirt as a bib.

  Ben shakes his head. “You don’t know Charley’s love for Mexican food. It far surpasses her love for me. She’ll eat that whole thing, and I’ll pay the price later on.”

  “Dutch oven?” Ponti asks, lifting his foot-long burrito in one of his enormous hands.

  I smile as I double-fist mine. “I’m going in,” I say, my eyes rolling back in my head as I take a huge bite of meaty, cheesy deliciousness.

  “That’s obscene,” Ben says, picking up his burrito. “And so damn sexy. Do it again?”

  I tear off another giant chunk of burrito without swallowing the first bite, and I try not to laugh as I realize I’ve bitten off far more than I can chew.

  Ben sets his
burrito down and grabs my face, leaning in like he’s about to kiss me. “I’ll help you. Give me some of your burrito,” he says, his lips brushing against mine.

  Now, I really can’t hold it in. Partially-chewed food comes spewing out with my laughter and, like a baby bird, Ben manages to catch some of it in his mouth.

  Ponti stares at us slack-jawed with his burrito poised in front of his open mouth. “You guys are sick.”

  Ben grins like a fool as he happily chews the food I spit out. This may not be Ben’s hardcore fans’ idea of #relationshipgoals, but I don’t think I’ve ever loved him more.

  21

  Everything I Want

  Now

  As Ponti drives us to the Four Seasons, I watch Charley from the back seat and can’t believe how fucking lucky I am. Some people never find the love of their lives. Some people find them and discover they can never be together. Some people are separated from the one they love by thousands of miles.

  I found the love of my life, and not only does she love me back, but she’s right here with me, so close I can smell her sugared strawberry perfume every time the breeze catches in her hair. For the first time in a long time, I have everything I want. I’m the luckiest bastard alive.

  Charley points at the highway sign as we pass the Cesar Chavez exit on 101. “That’s where I’ll be going when I attend the rehearsal dinner in a couple weeks, for one of the clients you helped me get,” she says, turning in her seat so she can look back at me from the front passenger seat. “I’m editing their photos and making a montage video to tell their ‘couple story.’ It’s only the second time I’ve done this for a client, but it’s the first time I’ve done it for a huge client. I’m kind of freaking out.”

  “You’ll do great. You’re the baddest wedding photographer this side of the Mississippi.”

  She cocks an eyebrow. “You know a better one on the other side of the Mississippi?”

  I shrug. “Well, there’s gotta be some good ones out there somewhere. I’m trying to think ahead, to when you and I get married. We’re going to have to get the best wedding photographer ever so you feel like you can relax and enjoy your day like a true queen.”

  She shakes her head. “When we get married? Pfft.”

  I laugh. “You think I’m gonna let you work all these weddings, with all these bros prowling around for fresh meat, without a ring on your finger?”

  “No one’s prowling for fresh meat,” she replies, rolling her eyes.

  “How many times have you been hit on at work?”

  She turns in her seat so she’s facing forward again, but she doesn’t answer the question.

  I lean forward and position my fingers over her side. “Charley, don’t make me tickle torture you into giving me a straight answer. How many times have you been hit on while working a wedding?”

  She lets out an exasperated sigh. “A few. Maybe six or seven times in the last couple years. Maybe more. I don’t know.”

  I sit back again as my stomach balls up as tight as my fists. “Maybe more than six or seven times? I knew it would be a lot, but I didn’t know it was that bad. Shit… I gotta put a ring on it quick.”

  She shakes her head. “I won’t hold my breath.”

  Ponti valets the SUV at the Four Seasons on Market Street, then he heads up to his room while Charley and I head to the reception desk to check in.

  “Ooh, fancy,” she remarks when I inform the girl at the front desk that I called yesterday to reserve the presidential suite. “Trying to impress me, are you?”

  “Only the best for you, Yoda,” I reply, grinning when she rolls her eyes.

  The presidential suite is 2,300 square feet of modern luxury, overlooking the gorgeous Yerba Buena Gardens. Charley immediately unzips the backpack she brought as an overnight bag and pulls out a camera to take photos of the living area and the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  I watch her for a while before I come up behind her and grab her hips. “I have a surprise for you in the bedroom.”

  She chuckles. “Oh, I know what kind of surprise you have for me, but it’s going to have to wait. I want to get a few more pictures.”

  I spin her around and gently pry the camera out of her hands, then set it down on the dining table behind me. “Remember when you told me that you wanted to one day be zen enough to walk over hot coals?”

  Her eyes widen. “Do you ever forget anything?”

  I shake my head. “No. Not when it comes to you. When it comes to you, I remember everything,” I reply, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Taking my dad to the Zen Hospice made me remember when you said you wanted to walk over hot coals.”

  Her chest is heaving as I pull her body flush against mine. “You have a bed of hot coals in there, do you?”

  I chuckle at her inability to stay cool when she’s this close to me. “Sort of. Wanna see?”

  She gulps audibly as I lean in and brush my lips over her ear. “Okay.”

  I lay a soft kiss on the sensitive spot behind her earlobe, then grab her hand to lead her toward the bedroom. “I hope you like this surprise. It took a bit of coordination with the hotel. I needed them to set it up before we got here.”

  Letting go of her hand, I push open the bedroom door and a wide grin spreads across her face as she shakes her head. A long stretch of orange fabric has been laid out on the floor, and it’s been covered in a torturous layer of black Legos. A brass sign holder, which is probably normally used to mark the queue for the valet, displays a sign that reads: The Lego Fire Walk.

  “You are insane. You know that?”

  I shrug as I take a seat on an upholstered bench next to the walk-in closet and begin removing my sneakers. “Come on. Let’s see who can get the farthest. If you can beat me, I have another surprise for you.”

  “Another surprise?” she says, stepping out of her turquoise flats. “What is it? A bed of nails?”

  “Nah, first I’ll give you the surprise. Then, I’ll nail you to the bed.”

  She shakes her head. “Jesus Christ.”

  “No, he was nailed to a cross,” I reply, laying my socks down on the bench and standing up in my bare feet. “You ready to do this?”

  She stares at the trail of Legos for a moment. “You know what’s worse than stepping on a Lego?”

  “Stepping on a land mine,” I reply.

  “Of course you know that joke.”

  I smack her ass. “Enough stalling, kitten. Show me how zen you are.”

  She closes her eyes and takes a deep, cleansing breath. “Okay, here I go,” she says, opening her eyes. “One… Two…”

  On three, she races across the bed of Legos like she’s running from a wild bear, screaming the whole way.

  When she reaches the end, she jumps onto the bed and clutches her feet. “I hate you!” she shouts.

  I fall to my knees in hysterics. “I can’t believe you did that,” I choke out through wheezing laughter. “I didn’t think you would do it.”

  “You’re evil!” she declares, though she can hardly contain her giggles. “That was so painful!”

  I pick myself up off the floor and climb on the bed. “I’m sorry. Let me see your feet.”

  She laughs as she tries to push me away. “No, thank you, Hitler! You’ll probably shove an icepick between my toes, or something.”

  “Now I’m literally Hitler?”

  “Literally! My mother’s ancestors are rolling in their graves,” she says, scooting away until her back is against the headboard. “You’re diabolical.”

  I grab one of her feet and wait a moment before I gently lift it up to look at the bottom. “Looks as perfect as ever. But I think I know how to make it better.” I lay a soft kiss on the arch of her foot and I can see her entire body tense. “Since you made it all the way across the Lego Fire Walk, I can now give you your next surprise,” I say, reaching into my pocket for a set of two keys. “These are for you.”

  She screws up her eyebrows in confusion. “What ar
e those?”

  I scoot up so I’m sitting next to her, then I place the keys in her hand. “I asked my assistant to rent a furnished apartment for you in San Francisco, so you can be nearby while you’re visiting my dad and working on that flurry of weddings. Ponti picked up the keys for the apartment last night. He said it looks even better than it did in the pictures. I’ll drop you off at your house in the morning so you can pack up your equipment and anything else you’ll need for the next few weeks.”

  She stares at the brass keys in the palm of her hand. “You rented me an apartment?”

  I shrug. “Well, I didn’t think you’d want to bring all your equipment to the Four Seasons. I figured you’d probably want your own space. I’m just trying to keep you from having to drive forty minutes here and forty minutes back every day for the next few weeks. If you don’t want it, I’m sure Ponti would be happy to stay there. He hates the food at the Four Seasons.”

  She closes her fist around the keys when I reach for them. “I’ll keep these,” she says. “You know, just until I’ve made up my mind.”

  I smile as I gently pry open her hand. “I’ll put them in the top drawer of the nightstand so you don’t lose them.” Sliding open the drawer, I drop the keys in and shake my head in dismay. “Ah, what the hell. There’s no Bible.”

  “Were you planning on reading some scripture before you fuck me?”

  “Not before. During,” I reply, wiggling my eyebrows as I slide off the bed. “Actually, the last person who stayed in this room probably hid the Bible. Help me find it, then I’ll fuck you.”

  “You are into some weird shit now, but I’ll play along.”

  “You’ve never played Hide the Bible in a hotel room?” I ask, squatting down next to the bed to look underneath the nightstand. “It’s a way to give the next person who stays in the room something to do, to make them feel connected to a stranger.”