Page 27 of Rockstar Baby
Well, then, this was the kind of marriage I could get behind.
“You bang on your little drum all day and I make quilts.” She tossed her hair and smiled at me again. “Can I get you anything before you get to work? Have you eaten?”
I hadn’t, but surprisingly, I was more interested in seeing this dynamic at play than I was at filling my belly. I was a student of human interaction. Being a voyeur was helpful in my business, since knowing how people ticked was a cornerstone of writing songs. Not to mention figuring out how to deal with thorny personalities was an asset in my line of work.
I’d also never seen a marriage work quite like this. In my own home, my parents had rarely argued. Or spoken, period. They didn’t have fire between them—at least not visibly, excepting the three children they’d made—and that was what I’d always sought. Or I had, until Darla.
I frowned. Since when had I sought anything? I was happily single. Unfettered. Unconcerned.
Horny as hell, even still.
Clearly, sex was dangerous to a man’s way of life. Good sex was like mental gasoline. Great sex could burn down a psyche and rebuild it from the ground up.
Hmm, I’d have to work that into a lyric.
I smiled at Maggie. “I haven’t, no, but could I trouble you for coffee? Black, please.”
She smiled back with a nod before deftly snagging her child from Kellan and toting him down the hall.
Kellan watched her go, shaking his head. “Is it any wonder I knocked her up the night we met? She’s hot as fuck.”
I lifted my brows. Looked as if I’d be getting an education.
“You weren’t in baby town, were you? I’ve heard it’s easier there. Probably because there’s nothing to do out here but shovel or screw.”
Kellan laughed so hard I worried he’d dislodged a vocal cord. “Nope. We were here. Though we get water from Crescent Cove.”
“Hmm.” I wasn’t going to dwell on that overmuch, seeing as I’d just spent the night with a lovely resident of Crescent Cove myself.
Next time, perhaps I should suit up in double-walled Latex. Did such a thing exist?
Of course there wouldn’t be a next time. By the time I got back to town, Ivy would likely be long gone, her light minty scent all that remained on the sheets.
I smiled. But the memories of my sweet ginger fairy in firelight would always be mine.
“So, how about a tour? We’re still adding on, as you can see.” He gestured vaguely down the hall to where construction debris littered the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. “But we have another guest room now besides Wolf’s room and we have the studio. All new additions. I built this place just for me.”
I eyed his muscled biceps, nearly bursting through his T-shirt. “You built it? I’m not surprised.”
He grunted and led me through the living room to the dining room. The open concept of the place made it seem bigger than it actually was. “I had help.”
On our way past the kitchen, Maggie offered me a cup of steaming black coffee, nicely offset with a couple of scones. I bit into one as we entered the small studio on the other side of the kitchen and let out a sound that I’d never heard myself make before.
Unless I recalled last night with Ivy…
“Bacon and egg scones,” Kellan said knowingly. “It’s basically a breakfast cookie.”
I’d eaten half the thing before I came up for air to see the studio. It was a nice one, equipped with far more than the usual home setup. A capable mixing board lined one wall. In front of it sat a couple of cushy chairs, strategically placed rugs for acoustics, and a damn near plethora of instruments. The other walls held a few framed gold records.
“Get those on eBay, did you now?”
“Smart ass.”
“Are you planning on returning to your band?” I gestured at the gold records with the second half of my scone, before I ate it as swiftly as I’d consumed the first half. Maggie was a magician.
“I never left it. Those are my brothers. I’m just branching out while we’re on hiatus.”
I ran my fingers over the scone. They were the perfect texture for dunking. “Uh-huh.”
