Reckless

A week later, the whole family made the trip to the airport to see off my parents. When we got to the drop-off area, I couldn't help but longingly stare at the planes waiting outside. I wished I was getting on one to be with Kellan. I already missed him. He missed me too. I'd received a postcard in the mail from him the day before, a picture of the Hollywood sign. On the back he'd written, Hurry up and get here so I can stop daydreaming about you.

Mom gave Anna a warm hug while Dad explained that I needed to check in with him every day. "I'm serious, Kiera. And, if I don't hear from you for a couple of days . . . then . . . I'm flying out to get you." His face was stern, but his eyes belied his true concern for me. He really didn't like the idea that I was leaving.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. "Dad, I'll be fine. Kellan will be with me the entire time." Dad was scowling when I released him. My words of comfort weren't so comforting for him. Dad hadn't entirely warmed to Kellan yet, and he wasn't exactly the ideal bodyguard in Dad's eyes.

Anna distracted him from his misery by engulfing him in a playful hug. "Bye, Daddy."

Dad's frown shifted to a wide smile as he patted her back. I turned to say goodbye to Mom. After she kissed my head and told me she loved me, she asked, "So, have you decided between a winter or spring wedding? Because we've got a lot of work to get started on."

I contained my sigh as I stepped from her embrace. I'd heard this question about a hundred times already. "I'll let you know, Mom."

She raised her eyebrows. "Don't wait too long. I need to get the announcements out."

I did sigh that time.

Once our parents were safely tucked onto the plane, Anna turned to face me. With a long sigh, she asked, "Is it just because I'm pregnant, or are they always this taxing?"

I laughed at her and shrugged. I couldn't speak for the pregnancy part, but I had to imagine that her condition only added to the problem. Well-intentioned or not, our parents could be draining.

As eager as I was to see Kellan, I was also a little reluctant to leave Seattle. I had anchors here. A place was just a place, as I'd told Kellan before, but places came with people, and there were a few that I was really going to miss. When Jenny and I closed up the bar the night before my last shift, it felt surreal to me. Tomorrow was the last day I'd ever work at Pete's. Jenny grabbed me in the parking lot and pulled me in for a tight embrace; there were tears in her eyes. "I'm going to miss you so much, Kiera."

I held her back just as tight, holding in my own tears. "Stop, you're going to make me cry," I warbled. She released me, and I rubbed her shoulder. "And I'm not going anywhere yet. I still have to work tomorrow, remember?"

Jenny sniffed and swiped her fingers under her eyes. "I know. I just . . . I hate goodbyes."

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I watched Jenny let out a slow, controlled exhale. "It's not goodbye yet. And I'll be back."

Jenny brightened as she swished her hand. "Oh, I know you will. Besides, I'll be visiting you guys whenever I can." Her sudden grin was exhilarant; it matched the glow of her platinum hair. "There is one good thing about you leaving Pete's, though."

Not quite sure what that could be, I gave her a blank expression. Jenny bounced on her toes and exclaimed, "We get to throw you a party tomorrow night!"

I cringed. I really didn't want to be the center of attention at a going-away party. Seeing my reaction, Jenny schooled her features. "Oh, don't worry. We'll keep it real low-key. Just some cake in the back room."

Somehow, I was sure that wouldn't be the case.

Driving back to my empty home in Kellan's Chevelle, I was suddenly struck with loneliness. Kellan had only been gone for a couple of weeks, but it felt like forever. Our little white two-story house looked cold and uninviting as I approached it. There was just something about Kellan being here that made the house seem alive. His energy filled it with life, with music.

As I unlocked the door, I dug in my bag for my phone. It was late, but it probably wouldn't be too late. Kellan was sort of a night owl. He was also an early riser, so if I did miss him, I wouldn't have to wait too long to hear his sultry voice.

I closed and relocked the door as I dialed his number. He picked up almost instantly. "Hey, you. How did you know I was thinking about you?"

I laughed at his greeting. "Because you're always thinking about me."

"Very true," he husked. "I miss you. Are you coming up soon?"

My smile was blissful as I hung up my bag and jacket. "Anna and I will be on a plane Friday morning." Anna had taken the Fourth of July holiday weekend off of work so she could safely deliver me to Los Angeles. Surprisingly, it had been Dad's idea. But Anna was up for any sort of adventure and had eagerly agreed. In fact, she would have put us on a red-eye right after I finished at Pete's tomorrow, but she had a very important doctor's appointment the next day.

"Good. I've been prepping our room. You're gonna love it."

My grin got even wider. "Our room?"

"Yep." I heard the sounds of other people laughing and wondered who else was awake at this hour. "And, I'm not sure if I mentioned this or not, but bring your suit. The house has a pool."

Kellan and the band were staying at a house that the record label owned. From what Kellan had told me about it so far, it was nice, so I wasn't too surprised that it had a pool. It seemed like pools were a lot more common in California than they were in Washington. We had espresso stands on every corner; they had pools in every backyard.

Trudging upstairs, I told Kellan how excited I was to join him. Staying at this house by myself was a little scary at times. I'd even gotten into the habit of writing in bed until the early hours of the morning; immersing myself in my romantic memoir stopped me from thinking about the possibility that a boogeyman was lurking in the closet. Having Kellan verbally tuck me into bed also helped to ease those late-night fears. His voice always had a soothing effect on me. Well, perhaps "soothing" wasn't the best word. While his voice always affected me, there were definitely times when the sultry sound that came out of his mouth was anything but relaxing.

With the phone glued to my ear, I got ready for bed. Because I missed him, I threw on a shirt that I didn't typically wear. It was saturated with Kellan's scent, and I didn't want that to fade. Slipping on the black shirt with the word "Douchebags" in bright-white bold letters, I crawled into our bed.

As Kellan gave me the rundown on his schedule, I brought the fabric of my T-shirt up to my nose and inhaled the smell of him. It was incredible-manly, yet clean. I still wasn't sure what combination of products he used to create that scent, but it was the most sensuous smell in the world. I supposed it was possible that it wasn't a manufactured scent. Maybe he just naturally smelled amazing; his bare skin was quite edible, after all.

I giggled a little at that thought, and Kellan stopped talking. "What are you doing?" he asked, a clear smile in his voice.

"I just crawled into bed-"

He immediately cut me off. "Are you naked?"

I flushed all over and felt a stirring in my body by his words alone. I could still hear faint noises in the background, so I knew Kellan wasn't by himself. But maybe he could be . . .

"No . . . I'm wearing the shirt you gave me a long time ago. It's my favorite shirt. I don't usually wear it, though." I closed my eyes as I confessed just how obsessed with him I was. "It smells like you, and I want it to stay that way."

Kellan chuckled in a low tone; it ignited the spark of heat in my belly that he'd stoked earlier. I ran a hand over my body as the ache of loneliness within me grew. I missed him so much-his touch, his smile, his eyes, his tattoo . . . his heart. Everything.

"Really?" he asked. "Do I . . . smell?"

A low purr escaped me. "Yes, you do, and it's the best smell in the world. Better than coffee."

Kellan groaned. "God, Kiera, you're turning me on."

I smiled, imagining him as restless as I was becoming. "Are you alone?" I whispered, afraid that somehow, someone would hear me . . . or Kellan. He wasn't exactly opposed to intimate public performances.

"Hold on," he muttered instantly. After another second, I heard him addressing the room. "Night, guys, see you in the morning." There was some murmuring in the background, and then it faded, and all I heard was Kellan telling me, "Now I am. Did you want something?"

I ran a hand down my face. I still struggled with this part-forwardly asking him what I wanted, what I needed. But I remembered what he said the morning after our wedding night; he wanted me to feel comfortable asking him for anything, talking to him about anything. I shouldn't be embarrassed. Kellan loved me, heart and soul, and he'd never intentionally hurt me. He may tease me on occasion, but I didn't think he would tonight.

"Kellan," I murmured, my voice doing that groan-growl thing that had turned him on before. "I miss you, and I want to make love to you." Before I could comprehend what I was saying, I quickly added, "Take your clothes off."

I slapped my hand to my forehead after I said it-it wasn't exactly the sexiest request. I expected Kellan to chuckle and give me a smart-alecky line, but he didn't. Sucking in a quick breath, he groaned, "God, that was hot. I'm so hard right now. I wish you could see."

My heart thumping in my chest, an image of him flooded my head. A thought popped into my mind and I repeated it to him without exactly meaning to. "Send me a picture."

I clamped down on my lip so hard, I thought I might draw blood. Did I seriously just tell him to send me a d-pic? I really never thought I'd ever ask him that. Then again, there were a lot of things I'd never expected myself to do with Kellan. He opened me in very unexpected ways.

Just as I was wondering if Kellan really would send a picture, he told me, "Hold on." Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I heard his jeans unzipping. Oh. My. God.

I wasn't sure if I could handle the erotic image he was about to send to me. My body was already aching for him to touch me. Seeing how much he missed me, how much he wanted me . . . might undo me.

The phone went silent, then his heavy breath returned to my ear. I wasn't sure if he'd done it or not, then my phone chirped at me. I closed my eyes for a second, nerves and excitement washing over me. God, I missed him so much. "Kellan," I murmured, as I pulled my phone away from my ear.

Careful not to hang up on him, I checked the message he'd just sent me. My jaw dropped when I opened it. He did it. He actually did it. He sent me a picture of himself in his most exposed and vulnerable state. True, Kellan wasn't nearly as reserved as I was, and this probably wasn't as monumental for him as it was for me, but still . . .

I couldn't stop staring at the photograph. Oddly enough, considering the subject, it was artistic and beautiful. Kellan's pictures usually were. He was bold and proud, the lighting was flattering, and his left hand was arranged in such a way that his wedding ring seemed to glow at me, as if to say, This is yours, wife, and yours alone. It was fascinating, breathtaking, sweet, and hot, all at the same time. The fire tingling me before shifted to a full-on blaze. I needed him . . . immediately.

"Kiera? You still there?"

I quickly brought the phone back to my ear. "I need you to touch me, Kellan . . . right now."

This time, he did chuckle. "Needless to say, I need you to touch me too."

The image of his body permanently etched in my brain, I moaned his name . . . and it wasn't the last time his name left my lips that night. . . .

I had a dopey smile on my face as I walked into work the next evening. It fell from my lips when I noticed what Jenny had done to the bar. Against my wishes, Jenny had decorated for my going-away party. Every archway and table was highlighted with twisting pink and white streamers. Balloons in every color of the rainbow dotted the ceiling. Long strings were tied to each one, dangling low enough so that people could grab them; the customers were having a great time yanking them down and watching them float back up. A huge banner was attached to the black wall behind the stage, right above the band's drawing. In embarrassingly tall letters, it screamed: GOODBYE, KIERA! GOOD LUCK! WE'LL MISS YOU!

It warmed and mortified me. Low-key, my ass!

Jenny trotted up to me as I stood gaping in the doorway. She gave me a swift hug as I exclaimed, "Jenny! What happened to having a small cake in the back room?"

Her smile big and beautiful, she shrugged as we pulled apart. "Don't worry, there's still a cake in the back room for you." Her pale eyes flicked around the bar, then back to me. "I just felt like your send-off needed a little . . . pizzazz. This is a huge moment for you, after all. You're not just leaving the bar, you're leaving Seattle." She frowned.

I sighed but couldn't really argue with her, especially as I watched her eyes mist over. So even though I really wanted to tear down all of the streamers and pop every balloon, I enclosed her in another hug instead. I guess I could put up with a few decorations for one evening; I drew the line at the party hat that she pulled out for me, though. I may have to feel like an idiot tonight, but I didn't want to look like one as well.

Nearly everyone I knew in Seattle came to Pete's to wish me well on my upcoming journey-my sister, my study buddies from school, the regular customers that I'd served almost every night, a couple of friends that I'd made in art class. Denny came in and sat at the band's table, joking and laughing with the bouncer, Sam.

It was comforting to have everyone that I cared about so close to me. I couldn't imagine leaving them all in a couple of days. The change almost seemed too monumental, and a part of me didn't think I could do it-but I remembered my phone call with Kellan the night before and what was waiting for me in L.A., and I knew I could do it. It would hurt to leave, but it's what I had to do. Besides, growing pains were supposed to hurt a little.

Later in the evening, one of my closest friends at school, Cheyenne, arrived. She was warm and outgoing, one of those girls that everyone liked. She had taken an instant liking to me and had saved my butt in our poetry class. I was sure I wouldn't have graduated without her. Well, okay, I probably would have graduated, but she definitely helped smooth the process.

Cheyenne was followed into the bar by her girlfriend, Meadow, and the rest of the members of Poetic Bliss. I was surprised to see the band there; they weren't scheduled to play tonight. As Cheyenne gave me a hug, Sunshine, Tuesday, and Blessing plugged in their instruments. Rain took her spot behind the lead microphone, while Meadow ducked behind the drums. Yeah, all of the members of the band had strange names. Saying their names directly to them had been a challenge at first. It's just a little hard for me to call someone Tuesday with a straight face.

As an energized hum filled the bar, I looked between my two blond, perky pals. Cheyenne was gazing up at the girl band with an expression of adoration that I knew very well-I tended to look at the D-Bags the exact same way. Jenny was bouncing on her toes, giddiness over her successful party overwhelming her.

"Are they playing tonight . . . just for me?" I asked, surprised.

Cheyenne looked back at me, her grin wider than her home state of Texas. "Sure are! I asked Meadow if they could give you a proper goodbye." She sighed as she looked back to her girlfriend. "They had to rearrange a couple of gigs, but they were happy to do it. Anything for my girl Kiera!"

I blinked, wondering if I'd be that cool if Kellan wanted to give a former crush such a thoughtful gift. Then again, Meadow knew me, and she knew that I was with Kellan . . . and straight. I suppose that tempered the jealousy, if there even was any; Cheyenne and I had cemented our friends-only status before they'd even started dating.

I found it difficult to concentrate on my waitressing duties once the band was in full swing. Friends kept chatting with me around every corner, and several customers that were not there for me were a little irritated by the whole thing. Eventually, Pete came out of his office and let me go several hours early. There were loud cheers and whistles as I handed him my apron. Pete patted my shoulder, thanked me for my time here at the bar, then handed me an apple-flavored sucker. I tried to not get teary-eyed, but when my coworker Kate gave me a hug, I lost it.

Kate, teary-eyed herself, walked me up to the bar. Rita was tending, as she did almost every night, and she poured us shots while Jenny grabbed the cake from the back room. For the first time since I'd known Rita, she didn't mention my rock-god husband. She usually bragged about sleeping with him, or made some vague remark that reeked of innuendo, but tonight she seemed almost respectful as she ate some cake and chased it with a celebratory shot.

By the time the group of us had finished the cake, I'd had about six celebratory shots. They just kept miraculously appearing in front of me, and someone-usually my sister-kept encouraging me to drink them. My head was fuzzy when someone else pulled me out onto the dance floor . . . Cheyenne, I think. When I was pulled into the middle of the band's fans, I let go of my inhibitions and danced my heart out. I'd always found dancing freeing, a way to get out of my head. The alcohol surging through my system helped there too, of course. I felt like I was floating as I twirled around.

After an eternity of dancing mixed with drinking, I was sweaty, insouciant, and feeling no pain. I bumped into a familiar, athletic body, and turned to peer up into Denny's warm, dark eyes. He smiled down on me as he steadied me. The music, the crowd . . . it reminded me of dancing with Denny on a much different occasion. Examining my face, Denny asked, "You all right there, Kiera?"

Looking around the bar, I wondered if Denny's girlfriend was with him. She and Denny worked for a prosperous advertising company. Denny was sort of her boss. "Is Abby here?" My question came out a little slurred. As Denny started to answer me, a random thought popped into my head and shot right out of my mouth. "You guys work together . . . so, since you're in charge during the day, is she your boss at night?"

His cheeks red, Denny mumbled something about her being out with friends tonight while I giggled at the image now firmly etched in my head.

While I was chuckling, I noticed a friend of mine holding out another shot for me. I eagerly took it, reaching over Denny's body to grab it. We were flush together with my arm draped over his shoulder as I tipped it back. Giggling, I handed the empty glass to my friend and wrapped my other arm around Denny; a feeling of familiarity flooded through me as our eyes locked.

Even though Jose Cuervo didn't really care about personal boundaries, I knew in the back of my head that we were too close together. While Denny frowned at me, I gently pushed him back so that our chests were no longer touching. Well, I meant to push him. I ended up forcing myself back a step. I bumped into the guy behind me and almost lost my balance. Denny's frown deepened as he grabbed my elbow to keep me upright.

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

My answer came out in a high-pitched laugh.

Denny rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I was just about to head home, but I can't leave you here like this all alone. Did your sister leave already?"

I pursed my lips, trying to remember through the fog. Was my sister still here? Had she ever been here? I couldn't quite recall . . . and then my hazy brain pulled out a memory from just a few minutes ago. Anna had started feeling a bit run down, and had wanted to go home and crawl into bed. She'd tried to get me to leave with her, but I'd wanted to keep dancing and refused to let her move me. Irritated, Anna had grabbed Jenny as she'd walked nearby and told her to take me home before she waddled out the doors. It had shocked me a little. Anna had never been the first one to leave a party before.

I shook my head. "Nope, she pooped out . . . left."

I giggled, and Denny sighed. "Well, then, I guess I'm driving you home."

Touched by his offer, I squeezed him tight. "You're the best, Denny." A slight sob came out of me. "I'm so sorry I cheated on you."

Denny started moving me toward the back room. "Yeah, I think it's definitely time for you to go. Come on."

I clung to him like a lifeline as grief and giddiness battled within me. A part of me hated that he was taking care of me after I'd been so horrible to him, and a part of me loved that we were still such good friends that he needed to make sure I was okay. We ran into Jenny in the back as I was grabbing my stuff.

"What's going on?" she asked cautiously. She didn't seem happy as Denny explained that he was going to take me home. "Oh, well, I told Anna I would drive her after work."

Denny looked over at me. I couldn't stand straight, and I wobbled a bit . . . which made me laugh. "I don't think she can wait that long, Jenny."

Not wanting her to worry, I tossed my arms around her and told her I loved her. She seemed even more worried as I left.

Denny helped me to the Chevelle with a hand on my back. The band was still playing as I dug in my bag for the keys. I felt a little bad that I was missing the end of my going-away bash, and a part of me still wanted to be dancing-but my head was starting to spin. Eyes half-closed, I handed Denny my keys. As he opened the passenger door and helped me sit down, I asked, "What about your car?"

He buckled me in with a smirk on his face. "Don't worry about it right now. I'll get it later. What matters is getting you home safe."

He closed my door then walked around the back to the driver's side. Again, grief washed through me. Why was he so nice to me? I'd done horrible, horrible things to him. I was a horrible, horrible person. Did he really feel so strongly for me that he could look past all of my flaws . . . and still love me?

As he sat down beside me, I immediately asked him just that. "Are you still in love with me? Is that why you're taking care of me?"

Denny's fingers paused on the way to the ignition. He looked over at me, blankness in his eyes. "I don't know how to answer that, Kiera. And I really don't think I should right now." He shook his head and started the car.

I put my hand on his arm, not understanding. "Why?" My world started to tilt, and I exhaled in a long, slow breath.

Denny's eyes studied me for a second before he backed the muscle car out if its space. "Because you're wasted, and I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

Removing my hand, I ran it back through my hair, undoing my hasty ponytail. "I have no ideas . . ." I murmured, closing my eyes.

I heard Denny sigh, and thought I heard him say, "Yeah, I know you don't."

Denny called Abby on the drive home. His face lit up as he talked to her. From the half of the conversation that I could hear, she didn't seem worried about Denny being with me. He told her that I'd had too much at the bar and he was taking me home. I wasn't sure what her reply was, but he laughed, and his eyes were clear and untroubled. Even though I was starting to feel a little queasy, seeing him happy made me happy.

The longer I sat still, the worse I felt. By the time Denny stopped the car, my stomach was churning. Feeling flushed and disgusting, I whimpered and leaned my head against the window. Denny shot me a concerned glance. "You okay?"

I shook my head and slapped my hand over my mouth. No, I was definitely not okay. Denny cursed and quickly exited the car. He sprinted back for me and helped me get out and stand up. My stomach lurched when I moved. "Denny," I murmured, "I don't feel good."

I stumbled and Denny swooped me into his arms. I clamped my mouth shut, begging for the nausea to stop. It didn't, though. Instead, it got stronger and stronger. Denny hurried us to the house, telling me, "I know you don't, Kiera. It will be okay, just hold on." Tears were leaking from my eyes as he squatted down to unlock the door-I really hated being sick.

Closing the front door with his foot, Denny rushed us upstairs. He set me down in the bathroom right as I lost control. Sinking to my knees, I noisily lost my stomach into the toilet. Denny sighed and patted my back. He removed my bag from my shoulder while I heaved a couple more times. As I laid my head on the seat, I could hear him moistening a towel. He handed it to me and I gratefully wiped my mouth with the warm cloth. "Thanks," I murmured, then I threw up again.

I felt like I was sick for hours. It never seemed to end. I was a sniffling, blubbering mess, but Denny stayed by my side. When there was nothing left in my stomach, I lay down on the cool bathroom tiles. They felt wonderful. As I closed my eyes, Denny whispered, "Kiera?"

I was so tired, I couldn't respond.

He let out a long, slow exhale as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I wanted to open my eyes to see his expression, but my eyelids felt like lead. I felt Denny's strong arms scooping me up again, then he slowly walked me into Kellan's and my bedroom and laid me on the bed. After he removed my shoes and socks, I buried myself into the covers; nothing had ever felt so incredible in all my life.

Denny leaned over me, tucking me in, then he hesitated; I could feel his presence above me. I again tried to open my eyes, but it was like they were glued shut. After another pause, I felt his lips lower to my hair. The tender gesture made me smile. He pulled away and I felt like he was going to leave me. I weakly reached out and grabbed his hand. I didn't want him to go. I didn't want to be alone like this.

"Stay," I croaked out. "Please."

Denny sighed again. "Yeah, I'll have to call Abby and let her know, but it's fine. I'll stay here if you need me to. I'll be in the next room if you need anything."

I nodded and released his hand. I could feel sleep creeping up on me, but Denny was still hovering, so I tried to push the feeling back. He watched me in silence for a long time, then he whispered, "I don't know what I feel for you, Kiera . . . other than . . . I care about you. I care if you're happy. I care if you're sad. I care if you're safe. And if that's love . . . then, yes, I guess I love you. I love you, but I'm not in love with you. . . . Does that make sense?"

It took a great deal of effort, but I twisted around and opened my eyes. He was giving me a soft smile . . . all three of him. I shut my eyes and nodded. It did make sense, even to my fuzzy brain. I loved him too, I just wasn't in love with him. He wasn't my heart and soul. He didn't consume every part of me. He wasn't Kellan.

Denny patted my leg, then left me. Just as sleep started claiming me, my phone rang. My bag was still in the bathroom, and I heard Denny stop and dig through it. Seconds later, he said, "Uh, Kiera . . . it's Kellan. Should I answer this?"

My eyes sprang open. Denny answering my cell phone late at night wouldn't look good. But not answering Kellan's call on the last night of my shift wouldn't look good either. Not only that, but Kellan and I were giving total honesty a try . . . so I really didn't have a choice. Gritting my jaw, I squeaked out, "Yes . . . please."

I heard Denny pick up the line. He said a few words in a low voice, then he came back into the bedroom. With a hand on my shoulder, he rolled me over. My stomach tilted again. "He, um, wants to talk to you."

I nodded, inhaling through my nose, out through my mouth. My shaky fingers brushed against Denny's as I took the phone from him. In an almost inaudible voice, I said, "Hello?"

"Kiera? Are you okay? Denny said you were sick."

There was a weird tone to Kellan's voice when he said Denny; not quite pain, not quite anger, but somewhere in between. "I'll be fine . . . I just . . . had a few too many shots at Pete's." My insides tightened even more just saying the word "shots."

Kellan let out an aggravated exhale. "I don't like you getting drunk when I'm not there to take care of you."

Without thinking, I told him, "It's okay, Denny's taking care of me."

Voice tight, Kellan replied, "Yeah, I know."

"Kellan, please don't worry," I murmured. "You know I love you. I married you, didn't I?"

Kellan laughed, the tension easing from his voice. I heard Denny leave the room, shutting my door behind him. I tried not to worry if that remark had hurt him. It shouldn't have. He'd just said he only felt friendship for me, after all.

I groaned into the phone as my stomach flip-flopped. "Kellan, I feel awful."

Kellan chuckled again. "Serves you right, drinking without me. And when I can't even take advantage of you too."

I smiled, wishing he could do to me what he did last night . . . Then my stomach lurched and I thought I might lose it in bed. No, no sexy time tonight. Breathing loudly through my mouth, I whimpered, "I think I'm going to be sick again."

Kellan's voice was calming as he told me, "No, you're not, sweetheart. You just need something else to focus on besides your stomach. Would you like it if I sang you to sleep?"

My grin was huge as I clenched my tummy tight. "I would love that," I told him.

A minute later, I could hear Kellan's guitar. Then his voice filled my ear, and Kellan started performing an acoustic set of all of my favorite D-Bags songs . . . just for me. The sensuous sound eased the distress in my belly, and my stomach suddenly felt a million times better. I wanted to listen to him all night long, but I succumbed to sleep and alcohol and nodded off into oblivion.