Page 3 of Rockstar Baby Daddy

“Of course,” she told him stiffly. “You do your job, Mr. Storm, and I will do mine.”

Damn, she’s feisty, too.I liked that in a woman, a hell of a lot.

Dr. Wright stayed silent even after Alex had departed the room. The stubborn woman was determined to wait me out until I spilled the details of what brought me to Oregon.

“I’m not trying to be difficult, Dr. Wright. This, well, it’s not easy to talk about.” I hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of strangers, and in particular strangers who didn’t think I was worth a damn.

But she flashed a dazzling smile that lit up her whole face, and some of the tension had left her delicate shoulders. “Call me Suzie, since we’re about to get personal.”

“Suzie. Is that short for Suzanne?”

“Susannah, actually.” She smiled again and let out a gentle breath. “Medical issues are never easy to talk about with strangers, especially for a man whose entire reputation is built on being incredibly strong and masculine and fit. I get that, but I promise you that I’m only here to help.”

I was a man with a healthy ego—couldn’t do my job without that—but her words brought a smile to my face. “You sound like a woman who’s listened to a song or two of mine.”

“Wrong.” Suzie sat up tall, hands folded over each other all prim and proper like. Her bright green eyes settled on my face, her expression serious. “I own all twelve albums and I’ve listened to them enough to know who you are, Gavin. If I gush over your skills as a singer and songwriter, will that make it easier for you to tell me what brought you here?”

Suzie Wright was a confident woman, in addition to being smart and accomplished. The fact that she was a fan made her irresistible. I licked my lips and leaned across the table, with a crooked smile.

“It can’t hurt to try, can it?”

Her serious expression brought me up short, but a smile made the corners of her lips twitch and then she let her head fall forward with a husky laugh. The sound was engaging and intoxicating. Cock-hardening.

“Fine. ‘Long Gone, But Never Far Away’ got me through the passing of my parents, within six months of each other. They took me in and helped me become the best version of myself that I could. They were everything to me, and losing them devastated me. Listening to that song on repeat got me through two funerals, and my thesis defense. It dug me out of a really dark and terrifyingly deep hole.”

Wow. I blinked rapidly at her heartfelt words, feeling the heat and sincerity of them down to the depths of my own heart. I expected a bullshit answer about how one of my songs was playing when she met her first love or something along those lines, but her story? It shocked me and reminded me of just how important creating music had always been to me. And why what I did was so important.

“Wow. I’m sorry about your parents, but I’m glad my words were able to help you heal.”

“Me too.” Suzie’s smile was a little bit sad but her eyes were solely focused on mine. “Your turn.”

I nodded. Fair was fair, after all. “Something is wrong with my voice. It started out with just a pitch change here or there, like puberty, you know?” She nodded but said nothing, content to let me finish as if she could sense how hard this was for me. “My voice is scratchy and I have a lump in my throat. I’m terrified it’s cancer so I haven’t sung a damn thing in three months, and since I can’t sing, my words seemed to have abandoned me, as well.” Truthfully, it was starting to scare the shit out of me. If I lost my voice, my writing, who would I be?

“Cancer is a bit of a leap, Gavin. I’m not belittling your concerns, but as a professional singer there are plenty of non-cancerous issues that could be related to your throat and vocal chords.”

“But it could be cancer, right?”

“Yes,” she conceded. “It’s also a possibility.”

“Right.” I groaned and shook my head, swallowing around the literal and physical lump in my throat. “Just what I figured.”

Suzie sat up and planted her elbows on the table, fingertips touching in a steeple. “When you were a thirteen-year-old kid, daydreaming about thrusting your hips on stage to thousands of screaming fans, did you stop when people told you that you didn’t have the right look? Did you give up after that first record deal fell through? Or when they tried to turn you into the lead singer of a boy band?”

Shit. Suzie Wright was a true blue fan. “No, obviously not.”

“That’s right. You got a fake ID, learned about fashion, and started working the nightclub circuit on your own. You made it happen in a notoriously difficult industry as a kid. Here at JRMC, we have a team of world-class doctors with a variety of specialties. Before I figure out which specialists to let in on our little party, I need to know what’s wrong with you. Or, if you prefer, we can let each of them run a battery of tests on you to figure out what’s wrong?”

“You missed your calling as a motivational speaker or life coach, Suzie.”

She laughed. “Same skills apply for big bad rock stars afraid of a little diagnosis.” She pushed away from the large oak table and stood. “Are you going to let your fear get in the way of a few more records? Another Album of the Year award? Are you going to let what’s probably a non-cancerous nodule define the rest of your days and retire young, or are you going to pull up those leather pants and get ready to sing your tush off again?”

Damn, she really was inspiring as hell. And beautiful. And curvy. “Tush?”

“Damn right,” she shot back. “Now, Gavin, what’s it going to be?”

I sighed, knowing when I was beat. “Run your tests, Suzie Wright. Next week?”

“Tomorrow at four. Delaying the tests won’t change the diagnosis, but it could potentially limit our treatment options.” Her serious green eyes held mine for a long time as if she could make me believe it wasn’t cancer.

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