Chapter 6
This was going to be the longest three days of Derek’s life.
He led the way from the restaurant back to their cottage through the lush, manicured gardens, Jo and Annie’s laughter behind him twisting his insides with every step.
“I wish I had pink hair,” Annie said, pointing at a star high above them.
“I wish I had blue hair,” Jo said.
“I thought you were only supposed to wish on the first star you see,” Derek said.
Annie blew a raspberry. “I want to make wishes on all the stars.”
“That’s a lot of stars,” Jo said.
“I have a lot of wishes.”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about Jo fitting into his daughter’s life so quickly.
Dinner had been easy, far easier than dinner at a new restaurant would have been without Jo.
Annie only complained about the texture of her chicken nuggets once and her disappointment that there wasn’t any actual poison on the menu had been assuaged by Jo’s suggestion that they split a ‘death by chocolate’ brownie.
His own self-control, on the other hand, strained under the weight of Jo’s pleased moan when her lips wrapped around the first spoonful of the decadent dessert.
But he didn’t have time to sort out the complicated combination of affection, lust, and frustration coiling in his gut. Not when Logan had sent up an SOS mere hours into their first night at the storied hotel.
He unlocked the cottage door and held it open for Jo and Annie, who practically skipped inside. “I have to go take care of a few things,” he said, regretting the words as the joy fell from his daughter’s face.
“But it’s story time,” Annie said.
“I know, peanut. I’m sorry.”
“I’d love to read a story with you,” Jo said, turning her full attention to the disappointed little girl beside her.
“Is it Nico? Is he okay?” Annie asked as she leaned against Jo’s side.
“Nico’s fine,” he assured her.
“Will you be back before bedtime?” Those puppy dog eyes had always been his biggest weakness.
“I’ll do my best. Listen to Jo. I’ll be back soon.”
Jo met his gaze, a question posed there, but she nodded once and wrapped an arm around Annie’s shoulders. “We’ll be fine. No boys allowed at this sleepover anyway, right, Annie?”
Annie tried her best to maintain her pout, but a smile slipped free. “Right. No boys allowed anyway, Daddy.”
He caught Jo’s eye and mouthed ‘thank you’ before pulling the door closed behind himself. He couldn’t let his thoughts linger on the disappointment in his daughter’s eyes or the effortless way Jo redirected her. It was time to go to work.
Logan was waiting outside the cottage he shared with Jackson and Beckett when Derek arrived. The cottage was lit up from within, a steady bass thump reverberating in Derek’s chest as he approached. Logan greeted him with a grim nod.
“Where’s Beckett?” Derek asked.
Logan tilted his chin out into the darkness in the direction of the resort’s fitness center.
“The gym. Phone’s off and he won’t be back for at least another hour.
You know how committed he is to getting his knee back in shape.
Didn’t think you’d want to wait. You know Jacks doesn’t listen to anyone else. ”
Derek nodded his thanks. “I’ll handle it.”
He was about to push open the door to their cottage when Logan spoke again. “He’s not a bad guy, you know.”
“He already destroyed this band once. It’s my job to make sure he doesn’t do it again.”
Logan's soulful brown eyes looked off into the dark towards the sound of the crashing waves. “I don’t think he’d make those same mistakes again.”
“He already is.” Derek gestured to the cottage behind him. Logan pursed his lips but nodded. “Get out of here. We don’t need you caught up in this, too, if those girls decide to sell their story.”
With a resigned nod, Logan turned and disappeared into the darkness, no doubt headed to find his bandmates, leaving Derek to sort out the mess inside the cottage.
He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, wondering what Jo and Annie were up to, if they were curled on the couch reading one of the graphic novels Annie loved so much or playing a marathon game of checkers.
What he wouldn’t give to be there with them instead of charging into yet another hotel room to deal with an artist behaving badly.
The living room of the cottage was empty, not even a throw pillow out of place, but the floor vibrated as pulsating pop music flowed through the house.
Derek found the stereo system in the cabinet beneath the television and switched it off, the echo of Raine Winters’ biggest hits still whispering in his ear even after the music stopped.
He moved through the now eerily quiet space to the closed door at the end of the hall and hammered his fist against it. “Everybody out.”
A loud thump and shuffling behind the door.
A woman’s sharp giggle and another’s frantic shushing.
Derek pounded again, and the door swung open, revealing Jackson in nothing more than tight jersey boxer briefs, his eyes glassy.
“Hey, bossman,” he said with a hazy grin. “Party’s just getting started.”
“Party’s over.” He leaned around the pop star’s swaying torso to address the three half-dressed women, hastily untangling their sundresses and donning their sky-high heels. “Time to go, ladies.”
Jackson scoffed and pushed past Derek, his fingertips trailing along the wall as he made his way to the living room, stumbling as he went.
“Did anyone take any photos?” Derek asked. The girls shook their heads. “Videos?”
“I’m not stupid,” Jackson spat as he dug around in the cabinets for a rocks glass. “No phones in the party suite.”
Derek scraped his hand over his face, fighting back all the things he wanted to say. Now was not the time. Not with three fans still lingering nearby and Jackson clearly not in his right mind.
He waited, silently watching as Jackson settled for a bag of potato chips in lieu of the alcohol Derek knew he wouldn’t find.
Though obviously he’d found something earlier in the night.
Figuring out where and how was a fool’s errand.
When someone was as famous as Jackson Hayes, party favors tended to materialize at will.
Finally, one by one, the girls filed past him, ducking away from Derek’s scowl on their way to the door.
“Goodnight, ladies.” Jackson lifted the bag of chips in a toast. No sooner had the door closed behind the women than his smile fell. “Who called you?”
“It doesn’t matter. What the fuck are you thinking?”
“Just having a little fun.”
“Like the fun you had in Paris? Or Mykonos? How about the fun you had in Ibiza? We’re still cleaning up the mess from that little bit of fun.”
Jackson huffed and waved away Derek’s comment. He rounded the kitchen island, chips in hand, and flopped down on the couch. “Like I said, no phones in the party suite.” He reached for the television remote but Derek snatched it from him, throwing it down on the coffee table.
“Three days, Jackson. You have three days to help me convince the label this band is ready to go back on tour. Right now, it seems to me we should be sending you to rehab instead.”
Jackson reeled back as though he’d been slapped. When he met Derek’s gaze, there was fire in his eyes. “Get out.”
“Get your shit together.” Derek turned to leave, pausing before he opened the cottage door to issue a final warning. “Don’t fuck this up. You won’t get another chance.”
“Get the fuck out!” Jackson threw the bag at him, a spray of potato chips falling across the room as Derek closed the door.