He’s asking me to make plans with him two months from now, and I realize this relationship gives me the ability to accept his offer without worry about what will happen between now and then. “Sure, that sounds like fun.”
He probably thinks I like opera because I’m a musician, but he’d be wrong. I’m not a fan, but I don’t tell him this because he seems happy about taking me.
We finish our beers and have two more while we talk about everything and nothing at the same time. He tells me more about his life, but he’s guarded and I wonder if he’s telling me half-truths.
I hear “Jolene” by Dolly Parton playing inside my purse. It’s my mom’s ringtone and I’m not sure it’s wise to talk to her after having a few beers, but I decide I should probably answer since I’ve only spoken to her once since I arrived in Australia.
I reach for my purse and apologize to Lachlan. “I’m sorry. This is my mom calling, so I should probably answer.”
“Don’t apologize.”
I take out my singing phone and I’m reminded of the one Lachlan sent me. Neither of us has brought it up yet. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to thank him for it or not. It’s a weird situation. Not thanking him feels rude, so I’ll think that one over later. Right now, I have to talk to Jolie Prescott.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, baby girl. I haven’t heard from you in a few days. I’ve been worried.”
“Mom, you shouldn’t worry. Everything is fine.”
“Well, how am I supposed to know these things if I don’t hear from you?”
“You’re right and I’m sorry. I should have called already.”
“Are you having fun in the land down under?”
Umm, yes. A lot. I delight in the source of my fun today and he holds up his empty beer bottle and waggles his eyebrows. He’s asking me if I want another one, and I nod. He takes my empty bottle and I admire the incredible view as he walks away. He’s been in a suit the other times we were together, so this is the first opportunity I’ve had to see how great his ass looks in jeans.
“I’m having lots of fun, Mom. Australia is great so far.”
She gives me an update on the things I’ve missed in Nashville this week and then I hear her exhale a long breath. That’s when I know there’s a reason behind her call. “Have you thought any more about what we discussed before you left?”
I can’t believe she’s called me to bring this up again. She isn’t going to take no for an answer. “No, I’ve told you, I’m not doing that and I’m not going to change my mind. Please stop asking.”
Don’t get me wrong. My mom is a good woman, but she is approaching the point of obsession with my career and it’s exhausting. “Your father owes you, Laurelyn.”
“Mom, I owe it to myself to make it on my own. When I look back on this years from now, I want to be proud of what I’ve accomplished.”
“Laurelyn Paige, you are Jake Beckett’s daughter and you should use that to your advantage.”
“No, I’m Jolie Prescott’s daughter, and I’ll make my own way. I’m done talking about this. I love you, Mom, but I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you next week.”
I hang up as Lachlan reenters the living room. “Everything okay with your mum?”
Mum. It’s so cute the way he says it. “As good as it can be. She can be difficult at times.”
He passes me a beer. “Did she give you a hard time?”
A hard time is an understatement. “Yeah.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
No one besides my mother and grandparents know my father is a huge country music star. It’s a secret I’m forced to keep from everyone I know, but I don’t have to do that with Lachlan. He doesn’t know my true identity so that makes him my one exception. “She wants me to threaten my sperm donor with going public about my paternity in exchange for him getting me a record deal.”
That sounds so much worse when I say it out loud and I feel the need to defend her, even if she is wrong. “Please, don’t think my mom is a terrible person. She’s not.”
Lachlan scoots closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. He props his feet on the coffee table and I can tell he’s prepared to talk and listen as long as I want. “I don’t think she’s a terrible person. She only wants to see her daughter succeed, but the right way of achieving that has become blurred through her eyes.”
We talk a long while and then go into the kitchen to continue our conversation over Mrs. Porcelli’s reheated chicken casserole. I know nothing about her or their working relationship, but something tells me she has a soft spot in her heart for her employer. I picture a gray-haired woman who loves Lachlan like a son, but then a different notion strikes me. Perhaps she’s younger than I imagine and is secretly in love with him.
We finish eating and thoughts of Mrs. Porcelli fade from my mind as we clear our dishes. When I finish, I’m drying my hands when he approaches me from behind and kisses my neck as he slides his hands around my waist. I think he likes doing that—surprising me—and I imagine him liking other things from behind.
He pushes my hair away from my neck so he can place kisses there and I tilt my head to the side. When he’s done, he reaches for my face and turns it toward him so I’m peering at him over my shoulder. He presses his erection against my bottom and kisses the corner of my mouth. He wants me. Badly. “I’ve been thinking about getting you into my bed all day, and now I’m done thinking about it.”
He takes my hand and pulls me toward the bedroom. I happily follow because I’m ready for this. I’m anxious to begin what he has predicted as the best three months of my life. So far, he hasn’t disappointed me.
We walk into the bedroom and I see my overnight bag on his bed. I wonder when he moved it from the guest room, but I don’t ask because it doesn’t matter. We both know I was never going to sleep in any other bed than his. That’s isn’t why I’m here.
We stand in the middle of the bedroom facing each other and he cradles my face with his hands as he kisses my mouth. His tongue moves slowly in a wave against mine and I melt against him.
He stops kissing me but doesn’t pull away. I feel his mouth move against mine when he speaks. “Do you need a minute?”
His inquiry makes me question if he snooped in my bag and saw the lingerie, but I don’t care. There are no pretenses here. We both know what’s about to happen. The only question is which set of lingerie I’ll be wearing when it does.