Chapter 7
Who knew that a man doing a phoenix impression could be so hot?
Jo tucked the fitted sheet around the edge of the pull-out couch in the living room as the sound of Derek reading a bedtime story to his daughter floated down the hall, punctuated by Annie’s overtired giggles.
He’d returned to the cottage with a deep furrow between his brows and his lips turned down in an intimidating scowl, but the moment he’d seen Annie and Jo curled up together on the couch in their pajamas reading Secret of the Phoenix Princess, all the tension rippling off his broad shoulders melted away.
She was dying to ask him what had happened, but it was clear he didn’t want to discuss it in front of his daughter, so there she was, remaking the sofa bed for the third time while she listened to Derek do all the voices for his daughter’s graphic novel.
Obviously because she cared about whether or not the princess escaped from the evil king.
Not because she’d gone all gooey inside at Derek being an amazing girl dad.
Jo didn’t go gooey for things like that. In fact, she didn’t go gooey at all.
On the coffee table, her cell phone pinged with an incoming message to her group chat with the girls back home.
Kyla: Excuse me, what is this nonsense about you jetting off to California without saying goodbye?
Molly: With a hot single dad. Don’t forget that part.
Jo: It happened fast. One of those leap before you look scenarios.
Tessa: It’s supposed to be look before you leap.
Jo: That’s never been my style.
Molly: We know.
Tessa: Tell us about the hot single dad.
Jo: His name is Derek. He works for the label that handles Midnight Storm.
Tessa: Have we met him before? Has he been at one of their concerts at the Bay Breeze?
Jo: Not that I know of. And he and Jackson are definitely not getting matching tattoos any time soon. He seems to be cool with the other guys though.
Kyla: Enough about the band! I want to hear about Derek.
Tessa: I heard from Mrs. Kemp who heard from Natalia who heard from Cheryl that he was all growly and gorgeous and couldn’t keep his hands off you at the bar last night.
Molly: Cheryl was at the Bay Breeze?
Tessa: Oh, yeah. She’s the biggest Midnight Storm fan in Aster Bay.
Molly: So what happened? Did you go home with him?
Kyla: Did you pull him into that back room at the Bay Breeze and have your way with him? That’s a good back room. Sturdy desk.
Jo: Kyla Elsbeth West!
Kyla: Not my middle name.
Jo: What has gotten into you?
Molly: Gavin’s out of town.
Tessa: She’s horny and going stir crazy.
Jo: Aww, Ky, are you dick-deprived?
Kyla: Are you?
Jo: Can confirm, the hot single dad gives good dick.
Molly: I knew it!
Jo: BUT I am now a member of Kyla’s club of the sexless.
Kyla: Temporarily sexless! Gavin will be home this weekend.
Tessa: Wait, so you aren’t banging the hot single dad?
Jo: It was a one-time thing. I’m the nanny now. And Derek has a strict no-banging-the-nanny rule.
Molly: I’ve read that book. The hot single dad always bangs the nanny in the end.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Jo spun around at the sound of Derek’s deep voice, flinging her phone onto the sofa bed as though it had suddenly transformed into a giant spider, the really big, hairy kind.
He leaned against the doorway to the living room, the sleeves of his once-crisp button-down rolled up over his thick, corded forearms. Amusement painted his features as her phone bounced across the bed and fell to the floor beside it with a muffled thunk.
“Hi!” she chirped. “That phoenix princess—wild, am I right? And don’t even get me started on the jaguar prince. Something fishy going on with him if you ask me. Probably in cahoots with the evil king. Is Annie asleep?”
Why was she babbling? Jo wasn’t the babbling type. She was the sassy, unflappable type.
Derek’s smirk widened. She wanted to press her tongue into the dimple on his cheek and kiss the grin right off his face.
“She’s asleep. I think the travel finally caught up with her.” He pushed off from the doorway and headed for the kitchen, pulling down wine glasses and retrieving a bottle of something white and likely expensive from the wine fridge under the counter. No one put discount wine in a wine fridge.
He held an empty wine glass towards her in question, and Jo had to remind herself that this wasn’t a sexy offer.
It was more of a we’re-both-here-and-I’m-not-going-to-drink-alone offer.
But who was she to turn down a glass of fancy wine-fridge wine?
She nodded, tugging on the hem of her sleep shorts that suddenly felt much shorter than she remembered.
As he handed her a glass, their fingertips brushed, electricity shooting up her arm, and she jerked away, the wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her glass. He huffed a laugh, warm and deep.
“I hope she wasn’t any trouble while I was gone.”
“None. I’m pretty sure you have the perfect kid.” He chuckled into his wine glass. Jo took a sip of her drink to hide the way his smile prompted her own. “She asked if we could go to yoga on the beach tomorrow morning. What seven-year-old wants to get up early to go to yoga?”
Derek sat on the loveseat next to the sofa bed. “She’s probably hoping Nico will be there. She doesn’t get to see him often, but those two are thick as thieves.”
“She said he got her a ghost hunting kit.” She perched on the edge of the sofa bed, tucking one leg up under her, her knee brushing against Derek’s. “She was bummed she didn’t pack it, but at the time she was more concerned with finding gold on the beach than hunting ghosts in the hotel.”
Derek shook his head, affection crinkling the corners of his eyes. “He’s the big brother she never had.” His eyes skated over her, then quickly darted away. “You don’t have to take her to yoga in the morning.”
“I don’t mind. I love yoga. Though I haven’t been to a class in a while.”
“Too many late nights bartending?”
Her smile twisted into something rueful. “Not enough decent tips. Yoga classes are expensive.”
She chanced a glance at him but looked away quickly, not wanting to see whatever pity had seeped into his expression. She didn’t need his pity. There were plenty of free yoga videos online, even if it wasn’t the same as going to a live class.
“It’s fine,” she said. “My last roommate moved out not long ago. Shacked up with a priest. Well, technically, now he’s an ex-priest. Either way.
It’s great. I’m happy for them. But we were already down one roommate as it was, and now it’s just me.
” She shrugged and pasted on a bright smile.
Maybe she was the babbling type after all. “Money’s a little tighter these days.”
The corners of his lips tugged down. “Is that why you’re working three jobs?” At her confused expression, he continued. “I believe you called yourself a ‘model-slash-bartender-slash-babysitter extraordinaire’.”
“Variety is the spice of life.” She finished off her wine and set it down on the end table next to the loveseat. “But for the next three days, I’m all yours.”
Something hungry and dark flickered in his eyes.
Desire coiled low in her belly, pulling tight as she remembered a similar look staring up at her from between her thighs the night before.
His eyes trailed over her skin, lingering on the neckline of her camisole, painting the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist with heat.
She swayed towards him, but then he blinked, his face clearing, and swept up their empty glasses on his way into the kitchen, leaving her off balance and flushed, wobbling on the edge of the sofa bed.
“I hear the Hotel Bellwether puts on an excellent yoga class on the beach every morning, but you should tell my daughter that Nico won’t be there.
His personal trainer will video call his hotel room so he can work out without fans posting pictures of his ass on the internet.
” He set the empty glasses on the counter beside the sink and turned to face her, leaning against the granite countertop, hands braced behind him.
“But you should go. If you want to. Annie can stay here with me.”
“It’s my job to watch her,” Jo protested.
“The band’s first event isn’t until ten. You can go to yoga and be back in plenty of time for me to get to the meet and greet.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Thanks, I think I will then.” She fingered the hem of her shorts and studied him, the tight muscles of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw. “Is everything alright with the band?”
His nostrils flared infinitesimally. “For now.”
“Seems like there’s some history there, between you and Midnight Storm,” she prodded.
He huffed out a breath that could almost have been a laugh and dragged his hand over his jaw before returning to the loveseat across from her. The soft fabric of his dress pants brushed against her calf.
“I’ve been with them since the start. I’m the one who convinced the label to let them open for Brozone on that first tour.”
Jo leaned in. “No way. You organized the ‘Broz on the Go’ tour?”
“Guilty as charged. But I didn’t name it. Fucking awful name.”
Jo laughed. “Fucking amazing tour, though.”
“You saw it?”
“Twice. Once in Boston and once on Long Island. I got kicked out of the Long Island show for trying to sneak backstage.”
“You must have been a kid.”
“Sixth grade,” Jo confirmed. “But I looked older. Long legs.” She kicked one of her legs out as if to demonstrate.
His gaze scraped across her skin as it moved from her ankle to her calf, over her knee and the length of her thigh before he looked away, cupping the back of his neck and blowing out a heavy breath.
“We had six good years. Well, five good years and one not-so-good. I owe my entire career to them. Without the success of Midnight Storm, I wouldn’t be part owner of the label today.”
“You own the label?”
“Part owner,” he corrected.