Nikki

Even though I was exhausted, I watched Tulsa sleep for more than an hour before I gave in and fell asleep myself.

My phone buzzes, bouncing across the top of the dresser, disturbing my sweet dreams. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to move from the warmth of his arms, but I know I can’t stay.

As much as I don’t want to, I have to leave. Bitterness consumes my happiness. I hunker down, wanting all parts of my body pressed against his. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I just want to be with my husband.

“Good morning,” Tulsa says, his voice groggy with sleep.

“Good morning.” I roll over and finally open my eyes to find his just little squints. Reaching up, I touch his cheek just as he touches mine. “We got married last night.”

I could bask in his smile all day. “We did.” Leaning forward, he kisses me when I expected a cute boop. I like the boops, but I prefer the kisses. “How are you feeling?”

“Happy I married you if that’s what you’re asking. No regrets.”

“None.”

“Are we being selfish?”

“No,” he says, “We’re doing what makes us happy. As long as making us happy doesn’t hurt anyone else, what harm’s being done?”

He’s right. “None.” I yawn unexpectedly. “I’m tired, though. How are you? I can’t believe you were tasered and then arrested. Are you okay?”

“Thankfully, it was only a stun gun. No permanent damage done. The worst part was not getting to spend time with you.”

“It’s bad enough we had to play a role after the wedding, but then for that to happen to you.” My chest hurts thinking about him being in pain. He’s a strong guy, a big man, but even he can get hurt. I don’t know if he’s putting on a front, but I’ll do anything that helps him forget. Hugging him, I kiss his chest. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

I rest on my elbows, hoping to see him smile. He never disappoints. Weaving his fingers into my hair, he asks, “Ready for round two?” Oh, holy hell, I am.

I move to my back as he rolls on top. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Delicious kisses lead to everything more.

* * *

I was only fifteen minutes late to brunch with Lauralee. She let it go after telling me I glowed. When I look at her, I could say the same.

“Did you have sex with my brother?” I ask in horror as my memories from last night come rushing back.

“What, why? Huh . . . me . . . I. Pfft,” she stammers, and scoffs, and then laughs while waving her hand around like I’m ridiculous. “God. Nikki. Pfft.”

“The lady doth protest too much. Good grief. Please tell me that’s a no?”

“No. Of course not. Did you just quote Shakespeare?”

“I did. Sometimes a little Shakespeare is needed.”

“What are you ordering?”

Staring at her, I’m thinking she either banged my brother, which is ew, doesn’t want to tell me, or she doesn’t want me to know. I think she wants to let it go, and quite honestly, I do too. “I’ll just pretend this conversation didn’t happen.”

We order our food, and as usual, the conversation over the hour turns to odd facts and pop culture. With a mimosa in one hand, she asks, “Did you know that you can get customized dildos?”

I spew my orange juice, spraying my brunch plate. “Good lord, Lauralee. Are you still drunk? What the hell?”

“I might still be tipsy, but I’m definitely not drunk,” she says matter-of-factly before bursting into laughter.

While she’s laughing, I ask, “Customized how?” Because, yeah, my interest is now piqued.

“Of your loved one, your S.O., or whoever you can get to shove their dick into a tube full of molding goo.”

I push my plate away. “Obviously, we’re done here. Why are we talking about this, and how do you even know about customized toys?”

She shrugs. “The internet.”

“I can only imagine what your browser history looks like.”

“Speaking of, if something happens to me, destroy my laptop. My father does not need to know about my Danny Weston obsession.”

“The model?”

“Supermodel.” She touches her throat like she’s about to orgasm—in public. “God, he’s everything. Did you see the underwear campaign he did last fall?”

“Guess I missed that one.”

“I’ll send it to you.”

“Only if you stop rubbing your throat like that.” I glance at the table next to us where three guys who appear to have major hangovers, judging by their bloodshot eyes and clothes that are too flashy for eleven in the morning, sit.

One smiles, but I look away, pretending I wasn’t just busted. “Hey.” When my gaze flicks back their way, he says, “You’re that singer chick.” He turns back to his friends, snapping his finger. “You guys know her. We saw them last night . . . um. What was her name?”

Another guy asks, “What was the band’s name?”

Lauralee and I just watch as they ask each other instead of me. The third guy says, “Faris?”

Lauralee caves and corrects them, “Faris Wheel.”

The first guy points at me with a huge, goofy grin. “That’s right. Shit, you’re hotter in person than on stage.”

I want to roll my eyes so badly but go with the air quotes instead. “Here’s an insider secret: I’m actually ‘in person’ when I’m on stage too.”

“You know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, I do. “Yes, I do.” Even though the situation is all wrong, the “I do” I say reminds me of last night and the vows I exchanged with Tulsa, and I smile, my mood turning around just in time for the man next to us. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Can I get an autograph?”

The other guy who knew Faris asks, “How about a picture?”

I glance at Lauralee, who’s smiling politely. She’s been in this situation before with me and knows the drill. “I can take the photo.”

The guys hop up from their table and surround me. The smell of tequila is strong wafting off them, twisting my stomach. I didn’t get drunk last night, but I had a few. Their hands cover my back and shoulders, and I start to feel a little uncomfortable. I still smile when Lauralee says to, and as they slowly pull away, one says, “You want to go out sometime?”

“No, thank you.” I don’t know why I say thank you other than it seemed like the thing I was supposed to say.

He leaves, but I swear he gives me a dirty look. Now I roll my eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

I dig out cash from my purse and set it under the saltshaker. It’s more than enough to cover the bill with a good tip, but I don’t want to wait for change. The vibe from those guys isn’t friendly, and I don’t feel comfortable without Laird or Shane to back me up if something happens.

As we walk out, I realize that role now belongs to Tulsa. How would he react if he’d been here? Tulsa acts on instinct. Would he rush me out of the place or punch one of them? Yes. Of course, he would. He and Laird are so similar.

Oh, God.

“Did I marry my brother?”

A woman outside the restaurant looks up from her phone and gasps.

“I didn’t marry my brother,” I snap.

The woman double gasps and covers her mouth, offended, again, by my comment. Lauralee says, “She didn’t marry her brother. All right?”

The woman turns her back to us, and I grab Lauralee’s sleeve, tugging her toward the casino. “We need to go.”

“Why are you talking about marrying Laird?”

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

What do I say? What do I say? “I’m not talking about marrying Laird.”

“I’m so confused. What are you talking about?”

Marrying Tulsa, but I can’t tell her that. Not yet. Ugh. Cutting through the lobby, I see Tommy pulling his suitcase up ahead. “Shit! Tommy. We have to hide.” I’m tempted to duck, but I’m too late. He sees me.

He knows stuff. Too much. He and Rochelle are the ones who handled the situation last night. I just wonder if he knows everything.

When we approach, he greets us first. “Good morning.”

Why am I sweating? “Good morning.”

“You heading home soon? Or spending a few days here in Vegas?”

Such a simple question, the honest answer getting buried in the lies. “No,” I reply, shifting on my ankle. “Just . . . I . . . um . . .

Lauralee looks at me, furrowing her brow. “I thought you were coming back to LA with me?”

“There’s been a change in plans.”

Tommy looks from her to me, and his eyes widen. “You’re heading to Austin to do some recording, right?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m doing. Recording in Austin.”

She tilts her head, and from the look on her face, I know she’s onto me. “Where the Crow brothers live? That’s convenient.”

Tommy rolls his suitcase in front of him. “I should get going. I’ll see you in Chicago.” We hug. He whispers, “Congrats.”

I may not have had the chance to be an emotional bridezilla, but the depth of what did happen has caught up with me. Choking up, I can’t answer, so I nod instead. I’m married.

I married Tulsa Crow.

Like I told him, I haven’t felt any regret. Maybe I’m being naïve. We’re in extraordinary circumstances, not having to worry about bills or even what to make for dinner. I do have suitcases full of dirty clothes, and I’m sick of eating out, so I look forward to our downtime together in Austin. I can’t wait to feed him and love him without eyes on us or having to look over our shoulders. After seeing Tulsa with his nephew, a part of me has even been thinking about kids.

That’s insanity. Am I ready to have kids? If I had to answer now, I’m not so sure I would say no. That tells me more about where I am in my journey than anything else. I’m happy, and that’s good enough for me to know I made the right decision.

Tommy’s grin is genuine as he keeps our secret. “Nice meeting you, Lauralee.”

“Same. Safe travels.”

When we walk to the elevators, she says, “You didn’t tell me you were going to Austin.”

“Spur of the moment.”

“So, a little sex with Tulsa convinced you to spend your days off in Austin?”

I bump into her playfully. “Absolutely.” Punching the up button, I add, “But, let’s be clear. There’s nothing little when it comes to Tulsa.” Nothing. I can feel him between my thighs even now, which is turning me on. I’m a harlot. A sex addict. But seriously, who would blame me? Think Liam Hemsworth’s eyes, Jared Padalecki’s dimples, and Stephen Amell’s body. Yeah. Swoon. Hate me.

Snort laughing, she shakes her head. “Oh, girl. You are in so deep.”

As is he. If she only knew.

Lauralee catches a two o’clock flight to San Diego, and I finish packing. Fortunately, I extended my checkout time, considering my clothes have somehow been strewn around the small suite in the two nights I’ve been here.

There’s a knock on my door, and without answering it, I already know who it is. Laird’s texted me twice, telling me to be ready. I’m not, so I run to answer it before shoving everything in my suitcases. “Hey. Come on in.”

“You’re not packed? We need to leave in fifteen minutes, or we’ll miss our flight.”

“Actually, I’ve changed my ticket. I’m not going back to LA this break. I’m going to Austin instead.”

“Why?” He sits on the end of the bed that Lauralee slept in while I pack my stuff on the other.

I go with Tommy’s brilliant excuse. “We’re recording a song.”

“For their album or ours?”

“Theirs. Ours. I’m not sure. He has a song. I have a song.”

“He who? Jet?”

Shoot. Without looking his way, I focus on fitting my shoes in one-half of the case. “No, um, Tulsa.”

“When did you start talking to Tulsa about songs?”

“Just came up when we went jogging the other day.”

“Since when do you jog?”

“Laird?”

“What?” He shrugs. “You’ve always hated running.” His mouth falls open. “Wait a minute. Are they poaching you?”

“No. It’s just a song.”

Laird studies me for a second before he says, “We’re making a name for ourselves.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

“I always worry about you.”

“I’m not leaving the band, Laird.” I turn my attention back to my cosmetics bag, shoving it into the suitcase. I don’t have to see him to know he’s watching me. I can feel it.

“Okay.”

I’m so shocked by his acceptance without more questions that I reply too quickly, “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He stands when I shut the one case and takes it by the handle.

What the hell? Where’s the brother who always gives me a hard time? “That’s it? I thought you’d freak out.”

He laughs when he turns back. “Me too, but I guess I figure you’ll always be my baby sister, but you’re also a grown woman. If you want to go to Austin, you don’t need my permission.”

“What about the band?”

“I believe you when you say you’re staying. Should I not?”

“No, you should. I love our band.”

He’s being so accepting, so casual about it that I’m tempted to tell him about the marriage. The only reason I don’t is that I should talk to Tulsa first. I couldn’t hold it in last night with Dex and Rochelle, but he hasn’t told his brothers, so I shouldn’t tell mine without him being present.

“I’m glad, Nik, because it’s not Faris Wheel without you.” He leaves my suitcase by the door and comes back to me. “You’ll be okay.” He hugs me.

How did he know I needed to hear that? Closing my eyes, I feel the love he’s always had for me. I feel protected in his arms just like I always have. Some of that may shift to Tulsa’s shoulders, but I know my brother will still be there for me just like he’s always been. “I love you, big brother.”

“I love you, little sis. Good luck with the song.”

Watching him walk to the door, I say, “Thanks. See you in Chicago.”

“Yep.” He looks back at me. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

He gives me a nod before the door closes. As much as I love how that played out, I kind of feel like he let me off too easy. I don’t want to jinx how well it went by overthinking it . . . or think about him getting lucky at all. I have a flight to catch and a date with destiny.