“We can hire a housekeeper.”
“I don’t really like strangers in my home.”
“Then we’ll clean up together when we have the time.”
I narrowed my eyes at his ready answers. This was too easy. “I will likely ignore you when I’m busy working or have a book launch coming up.”
“No problem,” he said. “I know you have a career you enjoy. I don’t want you to give that up.”
Pleasure rippled over the surprise and mild unease at what he said. But I wondered if he really knew what me not giving up my career would look like. Quite a few of my relationships had broken up because of my work. Even before I became a writer, I’d left guys because they hadn’t understood why I worked so much. To them I should work from nine to five and spend the rest of the day with them, instead of billing over eighty hours a week to clients like I’d been expected to, or fly to wherever my client company happened to be located.
And being a writer didn’t mean I worked less. I actually worked even more and kept irregular hours. Plus I had other needs for my workspace.
“You might not be able to drum when I’m working, which is almost all the time,” I said.
“So? I’m not the drummer in the band, and that’s what studios are for. Look, I like it that you aren’t perfect, because God knows I’m not. I like it that you have dreams and goals that aren’t tied to me and my career. I hate being around women who just want to, you know, hitch a ride on my coattails.”
Resentment had slipped into his tone. Somebody—or maybe everybody since he’d hit the big time—had tried to take advantage of him. And I knew how nasty a taste that could leave in your mouth. I had peers who’d treated me like garbage when I was coming up suddenly become nice once I began hitting the bestseller lists.
“Like the girls who wanted to use you to get more followers and likes?” I said, stroking the frown lines between his eyebrows.
“Exactly. Or women who wanted to get introductions to people in the music industry. You don’t care about any of that. When you’re with me, you’re with me, one hundred percent.”
He was saying all the right things, the kind of lines I’d give my romance heroes. My head said I should be more cautious. But my heart boomed, Yes, yes, yes. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t really like me.
And I liked him, too. He’d defended my career and my place in his life. He was kind to my mom. His actions had shown that he was serious about what we had, that he wasn’t just some asshole like my dad.
Hadn’t I thought that he might be able to give me more than just romance-novel sex? Hadn’t I thought that we could have an entire romance novel relationship?
The nerves in my belly shivered and prickled. My mouth was dry, half with fear and half with excitement. It was a huge step, but I should take it, rather than letting my prejudices color everything. Because despite my upbringing, my head understood—at least logically—that not every man was like my father. If so, the divorce rate would be stratospheric.
“Okay,” I said. “Dallas sounds like a great place to spend the summer months.”
A smile broke out on his face. We sealed our agreement with a kiss…and then much more.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Killian
The next day, Emily worked at the dining table while I reviewed email and some reports from my financial manager. He sent them every quarter to let me know how rapidly my money was multiplying. And it was, which was great… But every time I thought about the money, I missed my parents. Almost everything—all those billions—had come from them. And it had provided the initial funding the band needed to buy our first instruments and equipment, get studio time, pay the sound mixers and all that. It was as though they’d known what I would need to pursue my dream, even before I was old enough to know what it was myself.
My phone buzzed with a text from Dev.
–Devlin: Hey, wanted to catch up because we didn’t get to talk yesterday. The girls are finally gone now. Sorry about what happened. I would’ve never done that if I’d known.
I sighed. It was hard to stay mad at him for long. He always knew when he screwed up and wasn’t too proud to say he was sorry. Besides, he’d genuinely thought he was doing me a favor by bringing those girls.
–Me: It’s okay. But next time, ask before you decide to bring women over. Not having that again with Emily.
–Devlin: I will. I was just trying to help. I thought maybe you were spiraling into some kind of abyss to be reading romance novels. So I’m gonna be good in Dallas. Shit, I guess that means I need to start being good now. I also owe a favor or two to your girl, too.
I frowned as I tried to process his text. He could be a bit unclear, especially when he had more than two things on his mind.
–Me: You there already? Not hitting a nude beach in Europe before June?
–Devlin: Trying to get my head back into the music. And the girls in Dallas are hot, too. Gotta diversify my diet. I’ve eaten enough European.
I shook my head. Discussing women like they were food groups. Don’t just eat veggies—gotta have some meat, too.