Owned (Rockstar Romance) (Lost in Oblivion Book 5) (12 page)

Leaving Simon in the dark he’d gotten all too comfortable with since the spotlight on Oblivion had gone out.

L
ila climbed
out of her mother’s sedan and propped her hands on her hips as she stared at the front passenger tire. See what she got for being nice and taking her mother’s car in case Nick needed to use their rental while she was gone? For what, she had no clue, but she’d done the kind thing anyway and gone back in to get her mother’s keys. Her father had given her a look, but he’d handed them over with a warning: “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Yes, well, so did she. Now that it was done, and the box securely in the pocket of her wool coat, she just wanted to get home.

First, she had to change this damn flat tire.

She stomped through the snow to the trunk. At least she’d made it to the bottom of the big hill that led up to the house. Now she just had to get on the donut and pray that it would be enough to carry her up the steep incline in this frigging snowstorm.

Of course, she could always call her dad or Nick to come get her. But hello, she was an independent woman. She didn’t need to lean on a man—any man, even her father or possible husband. Besides, this was the night of the open house. She didn’t want to interrupt their night.

And yes, she might want to ruminate on what she was going to say just a few minutes longer. Though the snow and cold weren’t exactly conducive to peaceful musing, she could make do.

Before she hauled out the spare, she tugged out her phone and read the couple of messages from Nick. She hadn’t responded or even looked at them yet, mainly because she hadn’t wanted to chicken out. She’d focused on her task and only her task, and now that it was done, all she wanted was to be home.

Preferably in bed with a naked Nick, wearing her ring.

One of his texts made her blush. Another made her frown.

From pussy to Mr. Ed. What the hell?

With anyone else, she’d think he’d fallen headfirst into her mother’s special holiday punch. Not with Nick. Streams of consciousness with no segues were pretty much his trademark.

She sent back a quick text of her own.

L
R
: I’ll be home as soon as I can. On my way. There’s a slight delay.

T
here
. Hopefully that was enough so he wouldn’t worry, but not so much that he’d have fifty questions. She’d handle this just fine.

His response arrived in seconds.

N
C
: Where are you? What’s wrong? I’ll come to you.

S
he couldn’t help rolling
her eyes, partially to stop her cheeks from getting warm from something other than windburn. He was so sweet and attentive sometimes, especially in this case where she could just bet he wanted to escape the open house. But she wanted him to be there, to have time to bond with everyone.

Including Simon—and Margo, who’d also texted her a while ago to let her know they were visiting. Lila hated that she’d been gone at the wrong time and ruined their surprise, but judging from “the incident” Margo had alluded to, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Boys. Whether six or sixty, they never changed.

L
R
: I’m fine. I’ll be there in not too long. I’m on my way.

A
fter sending her text
, she grabbed the spare and went to deal with the task. She’d changed more than a few tires in her day, thanks to her father’s determined tutelage, and she’d be damned if she’d let a little—okay, a lot—of snow impede her from getting the job done. Just as well that she got stuck with the going-flat tire than her mother anyway. Her mom could bake the hell out of a tart, but car maintenance wasn’t her area of expertise.

Lila pushed her flyaway hair back under her hat and knelt to remove the tire. Luckily she’d stopped the car in a spot where the snow was even enough to set the jack. She’d done this so many times while her father watched that she didn’t have to think about it. Just a matter of—

Holy shit, a car—no, a truck—was bearing right down on her, barreling down the hill.

She jumped to her feet, cursing that she’d forgotten to set out flares, and waved her arms over her head. The truck slowed and skidded to a stop sideways across the road. It took her about fifteen seconds to recognize their own SUV and the deranged man who hopped down out of the driver’s side and bellowed into the night.

“What the fuck, Li? Think this is a good night for a stroll?”

Her eyes narrowed. After all, that she’d done to make this night memorable for them, he’d dare to curse at her? He might look sexy as hell with snow rapidly covering his mop of hair and his big boots clomping through the snow, but she would never allow herself to feel any inappropriate urges in his direction after he’d yelled at her. And swore.

Freaking unappreciative bastard.

“Well?” He marched down the hill to her, gesturing wildly enough to make her half Italian grandmother proud. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

She pulled off her remaining glove with her teeth—she’d already taken off the other one while she worked on the car—and pushed her hand into her pocket. Then slammed the ring box into his chest. “That.
That
is what I have to say for myself, though now I’m wondering why I even bothered. You obnoxious, pompous—”

His mouth closed over hers before she’d finished the thought.

She arched up to meet his kiss, winding her other arm around his neck to pull him closer. His warm tongue streaked into her mouth and she moaned, already desperate for more. Rubbing against him made warmth, for sure, but there were too many layers between them. She wanted him naked now.

Pissed off sex was the best sex.

He hoisted her straight off her feet, making her squeal. He groaned—and the sound was
not
sexual—giving her just enough time to yank her head back before he planted her ass on the hood of the car. She knew his moves by now, and as much as she wouldn’t have minded that under normal circumstances, the timing was not ideal. “It’s jacked!” she got out just before he dumped her on the hood.

She wasn’t sure how he’d missed that fact, but city boy and all. He’d ridden a bike a lot longer than he’d actually owned a car. Also, he’d been more than a little intent on her since he’d parked across the road.

Turning her head, she shielded her eyes against the glare of headlights. Yeah, across the road. Not good. Even if this hill wasn’t often used this time of night, they had a full house on site for the open house, and at least half of them would need to head down this hill to head back into town.

“Say what?” He cocked his head, gaze traveling downward. “What the hell were you…is that a jack? Ow, fuck.” He shifted her in his arms.

She narrowed her eyes, following his gaze. “Jacks are usually used to jack cars, yes.”

“Don’t use sarcasm on me now, woman.” Still holding her, he crouched to examine the the tire, dipping her so low that her hat popped off her head. She let out another yelp but he seemed oblivious. “You were changing this yourself? In this weather? Why?”

“I thought I’d put on some blingier rims. Because it went flat, you dolt.” She hit him with the hand that still clutched the ring box. He hadn’t taken it from her to open it. “I told you I was on my way. And um, look at me.”

Suddenly he rose and set her down on her feet. “So you do a lot of maintenance yourself? That’s really—ow,” he muttered as she turned his face to hers.

His cheek had a big cut and even in the weak glow from the moon and reflection of the snow, she could see bruising. Way too much bruising.

She picked up her hat and yanked it back on. “You fought with Simon.”

“Fought is a strong word. Anyway, everyone was looking for you. They were worried. Simon ate all the tarts.”

Classic Nick diversionary tactics. He was the most adorable, infuriating, confounding man.

“Were you worried about me, Nicholas?”

“What? No. Of course not. Don’t be stupid.”

She shook her head. Nick was about to be in some serious trouble if he’d put marks on Oblivion’s lead singer’s face days before they were due back in the studio. Not to mention the preliminary photos Donovan had lined up to prove to the world that Oblivion was back together. And back on top, though that remained to be seen.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Don’t do that. You sound just like your father when you do that.”

He sat down right in the center of the road and dragged her onto his lap. He huffed and puffed more than he usually did, probably thanks to his wrestling with Simon. Still, it was a little disconcerting how easily he flipped her around. She wasn’t exactly a small woman.

“Sorry. Why, were you having chats with Daddy while I was on my errand?” Which he still hadn’t paid any attention to the fruits of, but whatever.

They’d get there. They always got where they were headed eventually. She wasn’t exactly feeling terribly engagement-minded at the moment anyway.

“Never mind that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s talk about about Simon, and why you were fighting with him. Again.”

“It’s what we do.” He shrugged as if they’d had a little squabble over tea. “Back to the tire. You were changing it?” He framed her face in his big bear paws and pressed his cold nose to hers, making her laugh in spite of her irritation. “All by
yourself
?”

“You make that sound like I was creating an atom from the power of my mind. Yes, I was changing the tire by myself. As I have done many times before, and will again. So if you ever run your bicycle tire flat, I’m your gal.”

“You’re already my gal, and you know I don’t ride my bike around LA anymore. Much.” He scraped his teeth over the tip of her freezing cold nose and she laughed, burrowing closer. “That’s fucking hot. You do realize how fucking hot that is, right?”

“Everything makes you hot, including sitting in the snow in subzero temperatures.” She directed a glance at his crotch, which she happened to be nestled against. Quite comfortably, as a matter of fact.

He had to be hurting like hell, if the rest of his body matched his face. Knowing how he and Simon liked to rip holes in each other—physical and otherwise—she was willing to bet it did.

Which meant she’d be playing nursemaid before she did any proposing. Probably. She might end up as Dirty Nursemaid, who demanded some sexual servicing before she rendered any assistance.

That idea had definite possibilities. As did getting inside a warm building, stat.

“Sitting in the snow isn’t what’s making me hot. It’s the thought of watching you finish changing that tire and then me banging the hell out of you in that Sherman-tank-disguised-as-a-suburban-sedan’s roomy backseat.”

“You’re parked across the center of the road. There’s a million and one beds at Happy Acres, and a king-sized one already has our names on it.”

“Ever done it in a car?”

She wasn’t shivering from excitement. Hell no. It was freezing out. Of course she was shaking. “A car is purely a mode of transport.”

“You can’t say that and be my girlfriend. It’s against natural law. Also? It proves I’ve let you down in my duty as steward of your vagina.”

“What?” She gaped at him for a full ten seconds before she started to laugh. “Have you been drinking?”

“No. I’m high on life. Now up and at ‘em, soldier.” He pushed her to her feet, then none too gently smacked her ass to get her moving. She shot him a disparaging glance over her shoulder as she tucked away the ring in her coat pocket.

Completely oblivious male.

She changed the tire in record time, well aware that his gaze never left her. She could practically feel the steam from his stare melting the icicles forming off her fingers. A slight exaggeration, but not much.

Once she’d placed the flat tire in the trunk for safe disposal later, she shut the trunk, then brushed off her hands as she walked to the front of the car. Nick was on his hands and knees, minutely studying her work.

“It’ll be fine, if you think I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. You’ve known how to do everything since the day I met you.” He stood and pushed a snowy hand though his even snowier hair. “Well, except how to put on a condom, but we fixed that, didn’t we?”

She thought she’d imagined the last part, because of the howling wind. She had to have imagined it, right?

“But I’m still derelict in my duty. I’m supposed to be showing you new things. Things that involve you bare-assed and—why the hell did you slap a ring box against my chest?”

“Wow, took you long enough.” She pretended to be interested in the tire. “You want to drive this baby and test my handiwork?”

“No. I want to see what’s in that box.”

He crowded her against the car, and she reached down to protectively shield her pocket. “Nope. Sorry. This isn’t for you. It’s for my lover, Sergio.”

“Sergio wears girly jewelry?”

“Oh, wait. If it comes in a ring box, it has to be girly. Not thick and white gold and super manly.”

In fact, she’d insisted on exactly that. She’d talked to her favorite jeweler at length about finding the best piece in available stock, because special orders just wouldn’t do. That said, she wanted the piece to be something Nick liked to wear, not felt duty bound to.

Assuming he even said yes. He
had
to say yes. Otherwise there was a very good chance Nick’s final resting place would be on the secluded road that led to Happy Acres.

She was pretty sure she could ask for Simon’s help to bury the body. Maybe not until after he’d healed from their latest brouhaha, but she was almost certain he’d be on board.

“White gold, huh? Thick?” He grabbed her arms and pinned them on either side of her against the car. His hold wasn’t tight, and she could’ve gotten away at any time, but why would she want to? He was making a damn convincing argument for thick below the waist as well.

“I’m not getting into this with you right now. You’d rather fight with Simon than have a mature, reasonable conversation, and that’s just—what are you doing?” He’d slid his leg up between her knees and linked the bare, icy cold fingers of one hand around both of her wrists so he could reach down and slip his other hand into her pocket. Resigned, she sighed. “Where are your gloves?”