Taming the Storm

Did I actually just say that? And did I really call his bulge huge?

Oh God.

A full smirk spreads across his gorgeous face. “Firecracker, are you asking me if I would like it if you sat and looked at my cock all day?” He grins, his eyes questioning me. “Are you sure you want me to answer that question? Because you know it would be a resounding—”

I throw my hand up, stopping him. “Stop! Seriously, I don’t want to know.” I’m laughing as I say this, and Tom rewards me with a boyish laugh.

Smiling, I dip my spoon into my cereal and load it up.

Tom is watching me, but the fun in his face is gone now, replaced with something a little more serious. His fingers start to tap against the table.

I swallow down my cereal and milk. “Everything okay?” I gesture to him with my spoon.

“I spoke to Jake last night. He told me about Rally, that he’s your dad.”

The cereal I just swallowed hits my stomach like rocks.

I put the spoon down in the bowl. “Oh, right. Okay…and do you have any issues with that?”

He tilts his head to the side, looking confused. “Why would I have issues with it?”

“Because my father is an asshole, and he’s caused you and your friends a lot of problems over the years.”

“Trust me, we’ve endured worse than what Rally has thrown at us.”

“So, you don’t dislike me now by association?”

He gives me a wicked smile. “Ah, so you do care whether I like you or not?”

Not wanting to answer that question, I give a noncommittal shrug of my shoulders. I pick my spoon back up and start eating again.

Tom links his fingers together and leans toward me. I can’t help but look at his hands. Strong, masculine hands. Hands that I have no doubt he knows how to use very well. They look rough from years of playing bass. I can only imagine how good they would feel against my skin.

“Jake explained your situation,” Tom says, bringing my attention back to him, “and how things are for you with Rally. But even if you got along with him, it wouldn’t change how I view you.”

“Thanks.” I smile. “And I really mean that.”

He nods and rests back in his seat.

“So, you know my father is the bastard of the music industry. I’m guessing you know that my mother was—”

“The darling of it. Your mom was beautiful, Lyla. Really talented. From the pictures I’ve seen of her, you look exactly like her, which is good. You could look like Rally, and that would be a total fucking waste.” He grins.

I laugh.

Then, he says, “I’m sorry you lost her.”

And my mood drops, right along with the spoon into the bowl in front of me. “Yeah, so am I.”

“Tell me about her.”

A ripple of uncertainty moves through me. He knows about my mother. Everyone does. She was tabloid fodder for the press for most of her short life. Every breath she took was documented.

Tom asking to hear about her warms places in me that have been cold for a long time.

“I’m sure you know most of it from the papers.”

“Yeah, I know what the press said about your mom. But I don’t know how she really was, who she was to you.”

I stare at him, stunned from the depth in his words. And that’s what has my lips parting and my voice speaking. “My mother was a child star. First, TV, and then she moved onto singing. She quickly became one of the biggest country singers we’ve ever had.”

“She had an amazing voice, Lyla. You sound a lot like her when you sing.”

His compliment spears me in the heart.

“So, you know she was beautiful and talented…but she was also kind and sweet and so smart. Real business savvy, you know? Then, she met Rally at some fundraiser. He wanted her, and you know what he’s like when he wants something. Anyway, Mom signed with AME when she was nineteen. She was at that in-between stage of coming out of her clean-cut child-star image and growing into the woman she was becoming. Rally was instrumental in making that happen. They got married a year after she signed with AME, and I was born the year after that. We were happy for a time.” I ease out a breath. “Then, Rally got bored, like he always does. When something stops being a challenge, he goes out and finds a new one, which was Tanya Olsen. Have you heard of her?”

Tom shakes his head.

“She’s not around now. I think she performs on cruise ships these days. She was another one who Rally screwed over. Anyway, Tanya was nineteen years old, an up-and-coming pop singer. He signed her to AME, but obviously, Rally’s interest in her didn’t stop at the music.” I roll my eyes. “He wasn’t discreet about the affair. Everyone, including my mother, knew about it, and when it finally hit the tabloids, it was the excuse he needed to leave us.”

“How old were you when he left?”

“Four.”

“And how old were you when your mom passed?”

“Eight.”

“She died from an overdose, right?”

My defensive eyes snap up to his. “She didn’t kill herself.”

“Hey”—he leans forward, resting his arms on the table—“I never said she did.”

“Sorry,” I huff. My elbows hit the table, and I drop my head into my hands. A surprising tear escapes. I discreetly wipe it away on my sleeve. “It’s just that everyone says she killed herself, and I know she didn’t.” My eyes lift to his. “She would never have left me like that, not on purpose.”