Page 56 of All the Forbidden Things
“I think it’s the perfect solution,” Mel adds. “I’m sure Billie doesn’t wanna be stuck living with us after living away from home the last four years. She’d get her own space, have a job she loves, and be around people we trust.”
Me? You trust me? With Billie? Oh, you shouldn’t. You really fucking shouldn’t.
I almost laugh out loud, instead, I stare into my wine glass, panicking that the inappropriate thoughts I’m having about Billie. The way she’s got me all twisted up inside might be obviously displayed on my face.
This couldn’t happen . . . but then where would the harm? No. It couldn’t happen.
“Wha’d’ya think, Bill?” Kenzie asks her.
“When’s your next tour?” Billie asks.
“Starts at the end of May. Six months in the States, home for a month, and then we head to Australia for their summer. Fourteen shows, I think.”
“Sixteen,” Cal adds from beside me. “Two new dates have been added, there might be more yet. Mel will be with us.”
I can feel Jake’s eyes pinned on me, and I know he’s hanging for my reaction.
I reach for my wine, only to realise I’ve downed my second glass. Without having to say a word, Mel tops me up. I take a swig as she stands from the table to retrieve the apple pie from the oven. Jake decides to fill the silence, opens his mouth and starts vomiting words again. I’ve never known the bloke to be so talkative.
“That’d be cool, having you on tour with us, Bill, someone more my age to hang about with rather than these boring ol’ farts. It’s been bad enough in the past with Jay and Cal all loved up and married, but then Max joined the sad and married club for the last tour...” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. The same head I want to rip off its neck and launch out of my back patio doors.
My own head’s swimming. I’ve barely touched a drop of alcohol since the day Whitney left, so the wine has gone straight to it . . . Whitney, she’ll be back here by the end of next week, and the last thing I want to do is rely on her inanyway when it comes to looking after Layla. I want to show her that I’m more than capable of raising my daughter without her, even if it does mean employing someone to help, which is something Whitney was pushing for anyway. I’d point blank refused in the beginning, but the situation is different now, and I know there’s no way I’m going to be able to cope long term on my own.
My lips bounce together as I let out a long breath. While I’d been lost in my own thoughts, the table was cleared, apple pie and ice cream were served, and a large brandy was placed in front of me.
Billie is nowhere to be seen. Post Malone is singing about a sunflower through the speakers above my head, and Jake is the only one left at the table, and he’s still studying me.
“What?” I question.
“So, little Billie, huh, all grown up.”
“That’s what happens, at least for some of us.” My reply fully loaded with sarcasm.
He rolls his eyes like a teenage girl. “Who’d have guessed she’d grow up so pretty though? Pretty and—” He moves his hands in the air, I think as a way to describe Billie’s curves. Her hips, arse, and that tiny little waist.
I swallow, my mouth actually watering while I think about all those parts of her. “She’s always been pretty,” I snap. More now because I’m pissed off at my own wayward thoughts, but also because Jake’s looking at her as if he shares those same thoughts, and I don’t like it. Not one little bit. “She was a cute kid, you just didn’t see it. By the time you joined us, she was at that awkward teenage girl stage.”
“Fucking awkward? She was . . .”
I raise my brows.
“Anyway, whatever. She’s hot as fuck now. I’d even think about having a kid just so she’d come and work for me.”
“That’s Cal’s little sister, you need to watch your mouth.” He doesn’t respond because Billie re-enters the room carrying Layla.
Fucking hell. My dick and my brain are at war—my brain screaming at me not to go there and my dick totally ignoring that particular command.
“All clean,” she announces. “She woke up with a smelly bum, so I thought I’d change her nappy while her bottle warms up.”
My eyes slide from Billie to the kitchen worktop and take in the bottle sitting in the warmer. I reach for my brandy, knock it back in one swig, and then refill my glass.
“Yeah, like fuck you haven’t noticed how hot she is,” Jake mumbles quietly from across the table.
Oh, I’ve noticed.
Her arse and the way it appears to have been poured into those jeans.
Her tits sitting so round and full under that sweatshirt.
