Page 63 of Rockstar Baby
My smile widened. “Who are the Mannings?”
“They run the orchard side of Happy Acres. Their sister, Zoe, is my mate’s…well, mate. They haven’t managed to get a ring on each other.” His eyebrows furrowed and I resisted the urge to smooth the wrinkle away. “They don’t work well in the confines of any boxes.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“Except the baby part. They’re having one.”
“Oh.” I tapped his decidedly scruffy chin. He still hadn’t shaved, and I still hadn’t had his face between my thighs on this trip.
Naughty Ivy.
There was also more than a bit of fatigue around his eyes. Perhaps he’d been up as late as I was, tossing and turning. “Are you a traditionalist?”
“No. Definitely not. Just the Irish in me comes out sometimes, I guess. My mum would cuff me behind the ears if I didn’t put a ring on a girl before a baby came.”
“Wow. So baby means marriage?”
“Why there aren’t any babies in my future.”
My smile faltered. How could I be so into a man who was the opposite of me in every way?
And that forced me to put this day into a special little box. It couldn’t be more than just this. A spring day with a man who made my heart race and my body sing. It would be enough. It had to be.
I patted his chest. “Let’s go before my brother comes out and embarrasses me.”
“Right.” He slid his hand down my back to urge me forward.
After I settled into the car, I took a few seconds to calm the hell down. Rory’s phone was linked to the radio and a song I didn’t know was playing.
The voice was oddly familiar.
He got in on his side and flicked to the next song via his steering wheel. “Seatbelt.”
“Right.” I gave him a bright smile.
“I got you a tea on my way over.” He nodded to the large green tea in the cup holder.
“How did you know?”
He shrugged. “I notice things.”
“You certainly do.” I lifted the cup and took a quick sip to swallow down the suspicious lump that kept forming.
Do not get attached to this man.
It wasn’t a long drive and we spent most of it laughing over the control of his radio. I forced Ariana Grande on him and he brutalized my ears with a particularly obnoxious Eminem song.
It was nice enough that we rolled down the windows when we hit the backroads that led to the orchard. Rory’s hand strayed to my lap and he drew circles along my inner thigh to the slower 90s jams we’d compromised on.
“Waterfalls” indeed.
I tried to ignore the urge to widen my legs to see what he’d do, but our recent brush with the law wouldn’t quite let me pull the trigger on another car makeout sesh.
I was so wound up by the time the large Happy Acres sign came into view that I was ready to drag his hand under my skirt damn the consequences. I opened my mouth to ask him to find a space behind a tree when two men came into the clearing.
One was rippling with muscle. His hair was in a blue faux hawk and he wore aviators against the noontime sun. The other was lean and startlingly familiar with a baby on his hip.
Rory parked and I threw open my door before he could come around. He got out too, then rubbed the back of his neck as I glanced from him to the other two men.
