Wild Child (Rock Royalty #6) (26 page)

The night before, Ash had thanked the heavens for it. This morning she cursed the unceasing, driving wet. With care, she picked her way down the slick porch steps, the last item she intended to transport cradled in her arms. The wind blew back the hood of her slicker, and the downpour instantly wet her hair and sent freezing rivulets down the back of her neck. She gritted her teeth and carried on, blinking to ensure her car hadn’t floated away without her.

The cat had been corralled in her pet carrier and placed in the back seat. Though it was likely the creature had never before been penned, she was smart enough or enough in tune with nature to know this was an emergency. The small creek surrounding the house had overrun its banks, and now was more raging river than charming stream.

Worse was the flash flood danger. At any moment, a destructive and potentially deadly rush of water could sweep through, as had happened in her grandparents’ time.

Her phone had lost reception during the storm, but she’d been alerted by the warning on the TV screen as she’d blearily moved about the house at dawn. It was lucky she’d never gone to sleep the night before.

Her boots slipped in the muck and she wobbled, clutching the dollhouse closer to her chest. It was getting soaked, too. Maybe she should have stopped to cover it in plastic, but on her last trip over the footbridge to and from her car, she’d noted the water was already rushing over the base and the waterlogged wood had rocked as she’d hurried across it.

She took another step and slipped again, twisting her ankle and landing on her butt in the mud. Hissing out air, she closed her eyes against the pain and waited for the sharp agony to subside.

When she could breathe again, she held the dollhouse with one arm and pushed off with the other hand to stand. This time her palm skated across the sludge, and she ended up flat on her back, rain pelting her face.

Staring up at the leaden sky, she thought of the Ashlynn doll, for years just waiting for someone to pick her up.

Change her life.

Give her a new lease on it.

“Damn it,” she muttered and sat up again.

When she did, she heard a low rumble, a noise throaty and ominous over the loud and steady fall of the rain.

Was that the sound of a flash flood gathering momentum?

Her breath stuck in her throat and fear drove her, somehow, back to her feet. Indecision setting in, she looked wildly about. What direction should she run?

The noise grew louder, and a dark vehicle shot around the corner and came to a swift halt on the other side of the creek, sending a rooster tail of water and mud into the air.

Brody jumped out of the driver’s side.

She stared, unsure if she’d conjured up a hero, or if it was really him.

“Ash!” He ran toward the footbridge and put one hand on the rail and one foot on the deck. As he did, the wood collapsed, falling into pieces on itself that then washed down the now-roaring current.

They stared at the debris racing away, then they stared at each other.

“What are you doing here?” she yelled over the rain.

“Never mind that. We need to get you out.” He paced along the edge of the now-wider creek, slipping and sliding but keeping on his feet. “Let’s find a good place for you to cross.”

She mirrored his moves but with an increasing sense of worry. The stream was too wide to jump, and the current appeared to be moving too fast to wade through safely.

“Maybe I should just stay on this side.”

He sent her a frustrated look. “No.”

“Topanga Magic is in my car. Get her, will you, and then drive to safety. I’ll go back to the house.”

His next glance was furious. “Fuck no. There’s a flash flood warning.”

“I know that!” she shouted now. “So get to a safe place!”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“You’re being stupid,” she cried. And then she was, crying. Hot tears joined the cold rain on her face. “Don’t be so stupid!”

She sank back to the mud, clutching the old toy, as all the pain and panic flowed through her and out of her.

“I don’t want to lose him, too,” she sobbed, talking to the ghosts that lived in the old house and that lived in her. “I can’t lose him, too.”

“Over here!” he shouted. “Damn it, Ash, get your butt over here!”

Her head came up. He’d found a pair of long, thick tree limbs that he’d settled across the fast-moving water. He had a boot on each end on his side, holding them in place with his weight. His hands gestured to her.

“Come on!”

As she rose, tears continued to run down her face and sobs racked her chest. Her ankle throbbed, but she limped in his direction, trying not to fall again. He watched her, his blue eyes startling against the gray of the sky and the silver of the rain.

“Hurry up, Ash.”

She paused when she stood opposite him, eyed the improvised passageway, and then glanced over her shoulder.

“Maybe I can find something more substantial to use back in the house.”

“I love you, baby, but I’m going to lose my mind if you make a move in that direction. Get your sweet butt to me
right now
.”

A sob made her hiccup. “You still love me?”

“Not if you don’t start moving.”

“I love you.”

The words flew from her mouth, and she saw him jerk back in reaction. He lost his footing on the branches and fell into the mud. The new “bridge” washed downstream.

“Fuck!” he yelled, looking after the pieces.

Then without saying another word, he was up and foraging again, finding more limbs to span the distance. When they were in place, he sent her another impatient glance and signaled to her once again.

“Let’s go.” When she didn’t immediately move, he raised his voice. “Let’s go!”

Be brave,
she told herself, holding tight to the house.

The pieces of wood were slimy and wet, and she baby-stepped along their surface. The right one shifted, and she gasped as she fought to regain her balance. New terror froze her again, as she stared into the deep, dirty water that was moving much too fast.

“Ash, baby. Stay with me.”

Stay with me.
She glanced up at him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Brody said. “Eyes on me. Keep walking to the man you love.”

Swallowing hard, she took another few steps. At the middle of the span she wobbled again. When she threw out an arm to keep her balance, her other lost its hold on the dollhouse. It slipped from her grasp and fell into the water with a splash, to be instantly taken up in the current and rushed downstream.

The last glimpse she had of it was the two little dolls, tumbling together head over heels in the direction of the sea. The past, washed away. Beyond her reach to change.

Sadness welled up like another great sob in her chest.

“Come on, Ash,” Brody said, the earlier edge to his voice softened. “You can do it.”

She had to do it. She had to go on.

Her mouth moved as she cast a final look at where she’d last seen the small toys. Goodbye, regrets. Goodbye, old Ashlynn.

Then she faced forward, looking to the future.
Be brave
, she told herself again.
Be Brae.

And then another voice sounded in her head, her twin’s voice.
No. Be you.

More grief broke through her barriers then, huge and impossible to smother or ignore. So this time Ash followed Cilla’s advice and hugged the grief to her, only to find, strangely, that it kept her steady. Not like a crutch, but like a companion, like something she didn’t have to be afraid of any longer.

Like something that was a part of her.

A part of life.

She continued moving.

Strong arms folded her in when she reached the far end of the span, and she threw hers around Brody. She cried against him, unashamed of her emotion. For the first time, letting it all out. He pressed his face to her wet hair and kissed it over and over and over.

“You’re safe,” he said, as if to make himself believe it. “You’re safe.”

And then he hustled her to his vehicle, retrieved the cat and the other things she’d shuttled to her car, and they drove away from the house, his SUV’s heater blasting.

She turned to look over her shoulder. The Mercedes was nothing. But the old place… “Do you think it will be okay?” Her eyes stung and another tear rolled down damp cheek.

“No matter what,” he said, reaching for her hand. “We’ll make it home again.”

And she believed him, her man who got heavy things off high shelves, her hero, her love. “Yes. A home again.”

In the empty lot beside Satan’s he put the car into Park, and together they stared at the small cordoned-off section of the roadhouse that had burned.

She glanced at him. “You heard?”

“It was in my newsfeed this morning. Do they know who did it?”

“We suppose it’s the same kids who vandalized the trailer. They caught two of them—the slow ones—and the Sheriff’s people say they suspect that under a little pressure they’ll rat on their friends.”

“How bad’s the damage?”

“Not bad at all, thanks to all the rain. If we can get someone in to repair it pronto”—she sent him a significant look—“we should only have to be closed a few days. Conroy the health inspector was here last night, and he said he’d go easy on us. I bet I’ll be back in business next week.”

He eyed her. “Change of heart about the roadhouse?”

“I discovered I have a bit of a possessive streak when it comes to the place. I actually happened to chase down one of the vandals myself. You don’t want to mess with an angry Ashlynn.”

His mouth twitched. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“You came for me,” she said.

“I did.”

“I’m grateful. But…we didn’t leave on such very good terms the last time we were together.”

“You mean my grand exit line about not being enough for you?”

She swallowed. “Yeah. About that…”

“I’ve got a bit of a showman in me, sweetheart. Comes from Mad Dog. I think it’s only fair to warn you.”

“You did it for effect?” Her eyes rounded. “I felt terrible!”

“Well, me too, when you didn’t fall at my feet when I told you I love you. But I wasn’t giving up. Not at all. Just biding my time.”

“I should have known,” she grumbled. “I should have known when you had your brother deliver all those things for Topanga Magic.”

“You like the name?”

“It’s perfect.” Then she shivered. “We should get out of these wet clothes.”

“As soon as possible.” The look he gave her nearly melted them off her body.

Oh. My. Swoon.

“I’m going to love you for a very long time,” she blurted out, as the emotion surged through her—wonderful and liberating. She felt it in every cell, and it settled deep in her now-unlocked heart. “I’m going to love you forever.”

He reached over and ran his thumb over her lips. “We’ll be enough for each other, don’t you think?”

Ash nodded. “I’m positive.”

And happiness made her buoyant, as light as a feather, light enough to float over the Earth. But she’d never fly far from this strong, steady man who’d walked into her roadhouse and helped her heal…and then find magic.

The End

Dear Reader:

Thanks for reading! Brody and Ash have faced down their ghosts to find a bright future together. This is the sixth book in the Rock Royalty series and I am so enjoying writing these emotional and sexy stories.

Interested in sharing your thoughts with other readers? I hope you leave a review for the book
here
.

The Rock Royalty rock on in the next in the series, WHO DO YOU LOVE. Indie musician Cami Colson fell deeply in love with a mysterious man, but now it seems that’s over. When danger touches her life, however, might her dark stranger return?

Currently available in the series:

Light My Fire
(Rock Royalty Book 1)

Love Her Madly
(Rock Royalty Book 2)

Break on Through
(Rock Royalty Book 3)

Touch Me
(Rock Royalty Book 4)

Wishful Sinful
(Rock Royalty Book 5)

Wild Child
(Rock Royalty Book 6)

Who Do You Love (Rock Royalty Book 7)
Coming soon!

Rock Royalty Boxed Set – Books 1-3

Read on for an excerpt from
TAKE ME TENDER
, the first book in my Billionaire’s Beach series.

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Enjoy!

Christie Ridgway

Excerpt – TAKE ME TENDER

Billionaire’s Beach Book 1

© Copyright 2015 Christie Ridgway

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Sabrina fair

Listen where thou art sitting

Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave,

In twisted braids of Lillies knitting

The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair…

—JOHN MILTON, COMUS: A MASQUE

One

A good cook is like a sorceress who dispenses happiness.

—ELSA SCHIAPARELLI, FASHION DESIGNER

Slowly threading through the tables of the darkened restaurant, Nikki Carmichael refused to let a single tear fall. No, she wasn’t going to cry, though the night’s last entree had been plated and served two hours before and the last patron escorted out the door thirty minutes ago. For the final time, she’d heard the clear-bell clink of the wineglasses greeting their partners as they were slid into their nightly resting place in the rack over the bar. The kitchen’s enormous stock-pots that had simmered broth all through the dinner service were now clean, their steam no longer able to corkscrew the baby hairs that escaped her braids.

Pausing beside a table, she tweaked a white linen napkin already folded in the signature Fleming’s twist, ready for the next day’s dinner rush.