My Song for You: A Pushing Limits Novel (24 page)

To Ralph,

Thank you for all your love and support. I wouldn’t be where I am today without it.

First, I’d like to thank my readers and the bloggers who’ve supported me over the past few years. My books wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for you. I especially want to say thanks to the readers who personally reach out and tell me how much they love my stories. And if it weren’t for Nina Bocci, most of you might have not known about the series when it first debuted. She’s a treasure who keeps me sane in this crazy world of publishing.

I can’t say enough about my wonderful editor, Susan Grimshaw. She took a chance on the Pushing Limits series, and I’m ever thankful to her for that. Her brilliant and insightful feedback always helps to make my manuscripts so much stronger. And thank you to everyone at Loveswept and Penguin Random House who have also helped make this book possible—and that includes the cover, which wows me every time I see it.

A special shout-out goes to my critique partner, Christina Lee, who has been with me on every step of my journey. She always knows the right words to say, and she knows how to make me smile no matter what’s going on. When we joined forces to create our Facebook fan group, The Swoon Room, I knew I wouldn’t regret it. I couldn’t imagine a better group.

Writing could be a lonely profession if it weren’t for all the writer friends I’ve made over the years. They have selflessly shared their encouragement and their wealth of knowledge in all areas of publishing. There are too many of you to list, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you any less. I always look forward to attending conferences just so I can see you again.

And finally, thank you to my family, Ralph, Anton, Stefan, and Anja. You’ve put up with so much just so I can make my deadlines. I know it’s not always easy. Thank you for your love and support. Thank you for believing in me.

This One Moment

My Song for You

I Need You Tonight
(coming soon)

Tell Me When

Let Me Know

Heat It Up

PHOTO:
©
STINA LINDENBLATT

S
TINA
L
INDENBLATT
loves to travel and has lived in England, the United States, Canada, and Finland. In her free time, she’s a photographer, mother, devoted wife, and prodigious reader of great romance novels. She currently lives in Calgary, Alberta, with her husband and three children.

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by Stina Lindenblatt

Available from Loveswept

“I pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister announced. “You may kiss the bride.”

He didn’t have to tell Jared twice. Our guitarist’s lips were on his new bride’s mouth faster than you could say
I want to fuck you now.
And, knowing Jared, that was exactly what he wanted to do. Pushing Limits had been on the road for almost five months—the halfway mark of our tour opening for Endless Motion. With the exception a brief visit two months earlier, when Callie and their son, Logan, joined us for a few days, Jared hadn’t fucked her in a long time. How he was surviving without a bad case of blue balls at this point was beyond me. I couldn’t have done it.

Nor did I want to. That was one of the perks of being a rock star. I could get laid anytime I wanted to. I glanced around at the prospects seated on the chairs facing the wooden gazebo, which had been converted into the altar. Unfortunately, the wedding was small, with about forty guests, and only a handful of the females wouldn’t get me in trouble with the law age-wise. When you factored in how many were here without a boyfriend, that left me with one. Not a bad option either. Pretty, petite, with long black hair. Beckie something. Callie used to work with her at the diner. I’d have gone after her…if Kirk, the band’s bassist, hadn’t already been eyeing her.

So that left me with no possibilities. Which sucked. Royally.

The happy couple unglued their lips from each other and stepped down from the gazebo. Nolan pulled his girlfriend, Hailey, into his arms and whispered in her ear. She laughed. If I’d still been a betting man, I would’ve wagered those two would be married (or at least engaged) before the band hit the studio again.

At the thought of making a bet, a shiver of excitement rolled through me. I pushed it away. I couldn’t go there. Not again. I had already destroyed enough people with my past gambling addiction. I was a new man. A new man who wouldn’t fall down that rabbit hole again.

My fingers unconsciously went to the tattoo on the inside of my forearm, hidden under the tuxedo.
LIVE. LOVE. LAUGH.
The words were in Sanskrit. Along with several others, I got them after my stint in rehab several years ago. They were the motto I lived by every day. I lived and loved the music. And the laugh? Well…

I checked out the guests and spotted Tomas York, the drummer for the up-and-coming band Burning Wire. Perfect.

The guests had already risen from their seats and were standing around, laughing, talking to one another, having drinks. I grabbed a napkin from the refreshments table. Jared and Callie’s names were printed in gold on the cream-colored paper.

“Do you have a pen I can borrow for a second?” I asked the woman next to me. Her short white hair was puffy, and she had one of those oversized purses that contained everything, including two kitchen sinks.

She smiled at me. “I’m sure I have one.” She rummaged through her purse and removed a silver pen. Classy. I took it and wrote,
Hi, sexy. Your place or mine?
I handed the pen back to her, thanked her, then made my way over to Tomas.

“Hey, a woman asked me to give you this.” I passed him the folded napkin.

He opened it and read the note. His head shot up and his gaze searched the backyard for the note writer. I squished my lips together to keep from laughing out loud.

His gaze settled on Beckie, who was talking to Jared and Callie. Tomas’s eyes lit up with a lusting fire.

“Not her. Her.” I pointed at the woman who had loaned me the pen.

The heat in his gaze was instantly extinguished, and his eyes practically popped out of his head. I snickered. I couldn’t help it.

Tomas’s head swiveled to me and he backhanded my chest. “You jackass.”

I burst out laughing. “I might be a jackass, but it was so worth it.”

“For you, maybe.” He looked back at Beckie. “Do you know who she is?”

I shrugged. “Not really. She used to work with Callie.” I didn’t get a chance to warn him that Kirk might also be interested in her. Just then Kirk sidled up to her, and it was clear she was as taken by the tall, brooding hockey player turned bassist as he was with her. At least one of us would get lucky that night. That left Aaron and me as the only members of the band who weren’t going to have a good fuck tonight.

Maybe he, Tomas, and I should bail on the wedding sooner rather than later and find some action elsewhere
.

And I would have if Jared hadn’t been like a brother to me. All the guys in the band were like brothers to me. The only brothers I had left. No, bailing on the wedding so I could get laid wasn’t the cool thing to do.

I felt a tug on my pant leg. I glanced down to find Logan grinning hopefully up at me. Inwardly I chuckled. I knew what the hopeful expression was for. He hoped that I’d cuss and contribute to his swear jar. With the band touring, he had no one to donate regularly to it. I was the only idiot unable to control his cussing around the four-year-old. It was an expensive habit when the fine was a dollar per swear word. “Hey, buddy.”

“Play with me, Uncle Mason.” He signed the words as he spoke. Logan was deaf, but his cochlear implant allowed him to hear most things, except for music.

I crouched to his level. “Logan, do you remember my friend Tomas? He’s almost as good a drummer as I am.” And with the way Tomas’s band was gaining interest within the L.A. music scene, maybe one day they would be opening for us.

Tomas laughed. “Actually, I’m even better than your uncle Mason.”

He wished.

“You must be good,” Logan said to him, grinning proudly at me, “because Uncle Mason is amazing.” What he meant was the vibrations through the floor when I played the drums were amazing. Logan didn’t listen to the band’s music. He felt it.

“What do you want to play?” I asked him.

“Soccer!” That came as no big surprise.

“Do you think your parents would mind?” I surveyed the backyard. It wasn’t huge, and while under normal circumstances it would be fine, it might be problematic with so many guests milling around.

Logan tugged on my hand to get me to stand up. “It’s all good.”

I somehow doubted it. I scanned the area for Jared and Callie, but they were nowhere to be found. Guess they couldn’t wait until the nighttime to consummate their marriage. Lucky bastard!

“Why don’t we ask your grandmother first, okay?” I signed the “okay” part. “Don’t go anywhere,” I told Tomas. “You might get drafted into the soccer match.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” said Tomas, who was part Latino and had grown up on soccer.

Logan and I walked over to his grandmother, who was talking to a few guests near the refreshment table. “That should be fine,” she said, after I asked her if it would be okay to play a low-key game of soccer. “Just keep the ball away from the patio, okay?” She said the last part to Logan, then to me she added, “And no kicking it hard. We don’t need it landing in the food.”

Good point.

Logan hurried off to fetch his soccer ball. A few minutes later, he and I, along with the other guys in the band, Tomas, and the cute little flower girl, were kicking the ball around the lawn. Callie cheered her boys on, who were on my team, while Hailey cheered on Nolan, who was on the opposite team.

Kirk kicked the ball past Aaron. I high-fived him. “Nice job, puck boy.”

“As if you ever doubted me, drummer boy,” he said with a smirk.

The phone in my tux pant pocket vibrated. I ignored it. Everyone who was likely to contact me was at the wedding. So unless my estranged family had had a sudden longing to forgive me for the mess I’d dragged them into a few years ago—and I doubted they had forgiven me, or ever would—the call could wait.

Logan kicked the ball past Tomas, who was positioned between two wedding chairs, and scored a goal. He squealed with joy and jumped up and down, as did Emma, the toddler flower girl, who was on the other team. We laughed at their reaction.

Jared hugged Logan, and the memory of my father once doing the same when I was a kid almost knocked me onto my ass. I’d just scored a touchdown. It had only been flag football, but that hadn’t mattered to him. He had been proud of me no matter what—as long as I gave it my all and worked hard. As long as I played fair.

I shoved away the memory and the hurt. I had moved on. No point picking at the scab again.

I high-fived Logan and got back into position. Callie tossed the ball onto the grass and the game resumed. Emma kicked the ball. Giggling, she ran while kicking it away from the rigged-up soccer field. Logan chased after her. The rest of us just stood on the grass, laughing.

A bird tweeted near the tree house. Without warning, Emma stopped and pointed up at where the sound had come from, the soccer game instantly forgotten. Not expecting her to do that, Logan almost careened into her. He took advantage of the distraction and kicked the ball away from her. Emma didn’t even notice.

He dribbled the ball back to us but then forgot about the no-kicking rule. And wow, could the kid ever kick. The ball smacked the ass of the woman who had loaned me her pen. We all cringed as it made impact, and cringed even more at the dirty ball print it left behind on her beige skirt.

She turned around to find Logan staring at her backside, his mouth a perfect circle. She smiled sweetly down at him. “Your daddy said you were a good player. He just failed to mention how great a player you are.” She ruffled his hair and returned her attention to the elderly couple she had been talking to.

The phone vibrated in my pocket again.

I don’t know what compelled me to check it, but a weird feeling warned me it was important. I removed my phone and checked to see who had texted me.

Call me ASAP! Important.

The last I’d heard, Zack was off somewhere on a mission for the Navy. He’d been gone for a few weeks now.

Striding to the side of the house, away from the noise, I speed-dialed his number. He answered moments later.

“Hey, McCormick, what’s so important?” I asked.

“It’s my sister. I’ve been trying to contact her for the past two days. She isn’t returning my texts or messages.”

“You think something’s happened to her?”

“Who knows? She’s a workaholic. Sometimes she gets so focused on what’s she doing, she ignores the rest of the world. But if something has happened to her…” He couldn’t say the final words.

“You want me to go to her place and check if she’s okay?”

“Yes, if you can.”

“What’s her address?”

He told me. “It’s in Desert Springs. About two and a half hours from L.A.”

“I’m at a wedding, but I can leave in about an hour.”

“Thanks, Dell. I owe you big.”

Not as much as I owed him. If it weren’t for Zack, I would have died the night my gambling addiction caused me to hit rock bottom and I attempted suicide.

I owed him my life…and so much more.