“What the hell do you mean, you have to stay with him? You don’t even know him,” Jade demanded through the phone, exasperation evident in her voice. “Let’s back up a minute. Tell me everything that has happened. And don’t leave anything out, because I am still mad at you for only texting me after your attack and not returning any of my phone calls. I have been worried sick over here.” So I started from the beginning, making sure not to leave anything out, before I finished with him inviting me to stay at his house. “But you don’t even know him,” she reiterated.

“Jade, just think about it for a minute. This is Sebastian Miles we’re talking about. Hello! I tried really hard to say no, but he was so persuasive. Besides, have you seen him?” I asked sarcastically. “He’s been incredibly sweet so far and nothing but a gentleman. I don’t even think he has those kinds of feelings for me. I think he just sees me as a woman in distress. Maybe helping me is a way to redeem himself.”

“I don’t know, Brooke. I still don’t like it, but I trust your judgment,” she sighed. “Seeing as how you are going to be shacking up with a celebrity, you can get those pictures for me. Maybe you’ll get to meet the rest of the band while you’re there,” she said, now excited about the prospect of me staying a while longer.

“I’ll see what I can do.” I laughed and said my good-byes before I made my way out to the balcony just off my room, where I placed a call to my boss, Donnie.

“So, my little Brooke goes out to L.A. and gets herself shacked up with a famous rock star. How on earth did you swing that?” He laughed heartily before continuing. “Seriously, kid, are you okay? The doctor says that everything looks good, just no traveling to stay on the safe side? You’re not keeping anything from me, are you?” Donnie wore the surrogate father hat well, and right now he was in full-on protective mode.

“I promise I’m okay. I’m frustrated that I have been advised to stay, though. How will you manage without me for that long? I don’t want to put you in a bad spot.”

“We’ll be fine, trust me. I’ll call in a few favors and have one of our sister restaurants send me someone on loan until you get back. You are coming back, right? You’re not going to run off and marry this guy, are you?” he teased.

“Stop it! You know me better than that, Donnie. Besides, it’s not like that. He’s very sweet and doting. Kind of like you, but worth a lot more money,” I teased. “I promise to be careful and not fall madly in love. And I also promise to come back home. I love you and will call you later this week.”

“I mean it, call me if you need anything. I’ll come running,” he pleaded. “I love you too, kiddo.”

Once I had finished calling my friends and the airline, I headed downstairs to find Sebastian. I searched most of the main floor before heading to the basement studio. He was in there, and the door was closed. I stood there for a moment watching him play the guitar. His eyes were closed, and I could see his lips mouthing a song. He looked peaceful. I slipped back upstairs and headed out the back, down the pathway that led to the beach. Sebastian lived in Santa Monica, and his estate backed up to the ocean. I found a quiet spot to sit down and stare at the water. This part of the beach was nearly deserted. When I looked to my left and right, I spotted mostly surfers or the occasional sunbather. I stretched my legs out before me and rested on my left palm, using my right to shield the sun from my eyes. A beautiful ocean breeze and the crashing of the waves against the shore made for a relaxing setting. I had been there for only a short time when I heard Sebastian’s voice behind me, making me smile instantly.

“There you are. I thought you’d snuck off and hopped on a plane to Michigan,” he joked, plopping down in the sand next to me. I noticed he had changed into a pair of running shorts and was barefoot. He had nice feet. Of course he did; everything about him bordered on perfection. There was no way he could look that good and have ugly feet. I drew my legs up close to my body, suddenly aware of my shortcomings.

“I told you I would stay, didn’t I? I just needed some fresh air. You were busy in the studio, and I didn’t want to disturb you.” I got up and began making my way down the beach. The sudden urge to move was impossible to resist. He quickly fell into step beside me.

“You were down in the studio?” He frowned slightly. “I didn’t see you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I don’t want to intrude on your routine just because I’m stuck here for the next ten days. Don’t let me get in your way. You go about your business. I will be fine.” I waved my hand in front of me to indicate the casualness of our arrangement. “I don’t expect you to drop everything and be at my beck and call. My credit card should have arrived at the bank by now, so I’ll go pick it up later.” At this point, I was rambling nervously and my pace increased dramatically, yet he kept up without breaking a sweat.

“No, that’s not how it’s going to be at all. You are my guest. I can go about my business and still include you. I’m not sure what it will take to convince you that you’re not an intrusion on my life. It may have been unexpected, but I often find that’s when I make the best memories. What do you say, Brooke? Are you up for making some memories with me this week?” He nudged his shoulder playfully against mine, making my lips automatically curl into a smile.

I hesitated a few moments, but that was only because I didn’t want to appear too eager to take him up on his offer. What could it hurt? He had been a perfect gentleman so far, and I was free to escape to a hotel if I felt uncomfortable at any point. “Okay, yes, let’s make some memories together. How about we start with me making you lunch? I’m starving,” I stopped and turned, heading back to the house.

“Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse,” he replied, bending slightly at the knee before calling out, “Hop on.” His hands patted his back, indicating that I should jump up and ride him back to the house.

“No, thanks. I can walk.” I shook my head self-consciously, but he just motioned again, so I shrugged my shoulders and jumped on, squealing as I tried to get settled. His breathing wasn’t labored, so I must not have been too heavy, and once I had shifted into a comfortable position, he took off in a light jog, showing off. I held on tightly, enjoying the proximity. In this position, I could bury my face in his hair and breathe in his wonderful scent. He smelled like the ocean and suntan lotion, and I loved it. If I wasn’t careful, I would get drunk on it; I was that close. We both giggled at the playfulness of this gesture, and I was suddenly aware that I had never ridden piggyback on anyone, let alone a man. It was great fun, and I was a little saddened it had to come to an end once he had bounded up the final steps to the outdoor patio. I slid down his body, legs a bit numb from him holding on so tight, and gave him a gentle shove through the doorway.

* * *

SEBASTIAN

I wasn’t sure what prompted me to have her hop on my back, and for a moment I thought she was going to refuse. Most women worry too much about their weight, and I could tell by her body language that she had some insecurities, but then she surprised me and jumped on. I wasn’t sure why she would have been nervous; she barely weighed anything. Her arms and legs were wrapped tightly around me, and as she settled, she leaned in close, snuggling against the back of my neck. I felt the warmth of her breath. It was too bad the walk back hadn’t taken longer. I could have gotten used to having her this close. The offer had started off completely innocent, but with each step I took I realized it had been a perfect excuse to touch her, even if it was only her calf. It was a beautiful calf. When she slipped down, my body immediately mourned the loss; like me, it had become attached too quickly.

“Chicken pasta salad sound good?” she asked, looking over the leftovers in the fridge. She turned to me before pulling out ingredients.

“Sounds great. I’m easy. I’ll eat anything. Do you need my help?”

“Nope, just sit there, and I’ll take care of everything.” She got busy chopping and shredding, the knife moving quickly across the cutting board. “Do you like peas?” Her blond hair fell over her shoulder as she cocked her head to the side.

“Not really.” I scrunched up my nose.

“Too bad. They’re good for you, so I am throwing in a few.” She smiled sweetly before continuing to toss items together, seasoning and tasting along the way. In less than ten minutes, she had thrown together an amazing-looking salad with items I would most likely have thrown out if she hadn’t been visiting. I was a bachelor with lots of money. Most days it was easier for me to order out, so a home-cooked meal was hard to come by, until Sunday when I went to my parents.

“Looks great,” I said, digging in. “Yum, thank you.”

“Oh, this was nothing.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I hate seeing food go to waste; it’s the one thing about my industry that drives me crazy. I remember this one time at work we had a new kitchen recruit who wasted more food than he ever put out. Every night, there would be plates tossed because of something he had messed up. I felt sorry for him, but it enraged me every time the food was thrown into the trash. Needless to say, he didn’t last long in my kitchen. We run a tight ship.”

“So, tell me how you came to be a chef,” I asked curiously. It was obvious that she was passionate about her career, but I was interested in learning where that passion stemmed from. I knew from the moment my dad placed a guitar in my hands, teaching me how to work the fret board, that I wanted to be a musician. Holding that guitar in my hands just felt right. I was free to let my fingers glide over the strings, working magic as they moved. I was hooked, and from that point forward I made it my goal to perform on a stage one day, never once realizing how far that dream would take me. My band toured all over the world, sold countless albums and merchandise, and made millions in the process. All I ever cared about was writing music and playing; the rest of it was just a nice bonus.

She pushed her plate aside and sat her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands. “I had a dysfunctional upbringing, as I mentioned before. My parents were professionals who were too wrapped up in their work to pay attention to the little things. My mother went grocery shopping, so the supplies were there to put together nice meals, but she would get home late and then would be too tired to make anything, so she would order takeout. I watched her throw away so much food.” She shook her head sadly as she recalled the memory. “My parents fought quite a bit, so between them being gone a lot and the fighting, the general atmosphere in the house was pretty blah. One day, I came home from school and was hungry, so I dug through the fridge and started sautéing a bunch of vegetables and boiled some pasta. I was only ten years old when I made my first meal of pasta primavera, and it was pretty good.” She sighed. “From that point on I would come home and dabble around, looking up recipes on the Internet and pouring over cookbooks my mother had purchased but never opened. I became obsessed with food. I wanted to learn all about cooking techniques and how to make sauces.” Her hands fidgeted nervously in front of her. “After my father left, my mother became obsessed with work, sometimes working eighteen-hour days. There were days when I never even saw her. I would wake up for school and find a note scrawled out on a piece of paper, left on the kitchen counter, and there would be a twenty-dollar bill to buy whatever I needed for lunch and dinner. I was only twelve years old at the time.” Her gaze became vacant as she stared down at her hands in front of her. “I learned to cook as a way to keep myself occupied, because I was lonely, but over time, it became a means of survival.”

“Because if you didn’t cook, you wouldn’t eat?” I asked, instantly angry with her parents for abandoning her that way.

“No. I used my passion for cooking as a way to get out of that hell and I promised myself that once I made it out, I would never return. And I haven’t.”

“Wow. I’m sorry if I upset you with that question. I just wanted to see what made you tick.”

“You didn’t upset me,” she responded flatly. “It’s who I am. It’s all part of that baggage we were talking about yesterday. It happened, and I choose not to dwell on it. I look at it as unfortunate, but it also helped shape me into who I am today. And I consider myself to be a pretty well-rounded person. I’ve done pretty well for myself, all things considered.”

I sat there in stunned silence, trying to wrap my head around how a parent could be so cold to their own child. My parents made sure that our home was filled with love and laughter. As kids we always knew how much our parents loved us. They even went so far as to extend that same love to our friends. When Dek and Chris started hanging out in our garage every weeknight, my mom invited them to dinner. Natalie was welcomed into our home with open arms when she and Travis began dating in high school. When the band launched our first album, Mom and Dad threw a huge party, inviting the whole neighborhood and then some. Our house was always a home to all who entered. Listening to Brooke, it was painfully obvious that her house didn’t bear any similarities to mine. Her parents went out of their way to make her feel more like an inconvenience than a blessing. It was no wonder she had been hesitant to accept my offer of help. She had been left to fend for herself for so long that she would never dream of asking for assistance. It was a wonder she had turned out to be anything but bitter. I knew it would have made me full of hate. Not Brooke; she seemed to exude grace and kindness. I suddenly couldn’t wait for my family to meet her; they would show her what family was truly all about.

“You are amazing. I can’t imagine being treated so unfairly and then turning it into something that propelled me toward a brighter future.” My head shook back and forth as I registered everything. “I’m in awe of you.” I covered her tiny hand with mine, smiling internally when she didn’t pull away.

“Listen, every Sunday afternoon my family gets together at my parents’ house. My older brother and his wife, Natalie, will be there with their daughter, and my younger sister and her fiancé will be there as well. We barbecue and laugh, we sing songs, and tell old stories. It’s a nice time of enjoying each other’s company. I would love it if you went with me this Sunday.” I knew it was bold of me to ask, given the fact that she had just shared about her rotten upbringing, but I wanted to give her a chance to experience a loving family. When it came to a supportive and loving family, mine won hands down. My parents were the best; I knew they would fall in love with Brooke instantly.

“They wouldn’t think it was weird that I am there? I mean, we’ve only known each other for two days. I guess it sounds like fun.” She looked at me as if questioning, and I gave her the full Sebastian smile, hoping to ease her uncertainty, and she nodded. “Okay, I’ll go with you. Thank you for inviting me.” I smiled and made a mental note to call my mom. She was going to be surprised I was bringing a girl home, especially since this would be the first time since Charlotte.