“This is a huge step. Promise me you will be safe, always.”
“I will. I will. Oh, my God, you’re ruining the moment. Stop crying!”
You’d think by now Ellie would recognize the signs, but she’s so overwhelmed by her gift, she totally misses it.
Nya apologizes, giving her a push toward the truck.
Ellie hoists herself into the driver’s side and Kennedi climbs into the passenger seat. The sound of the engine roaring to life is quickly followed by their loud music and the rattling of the garage doors.
“Just take it for a quick spin around the neighborhood. Two permits doesn’t equal a license.”
My daughter hikes her thumb out the window. “You got it!”
I walk over to my emotional wife as they back out, wrapping my arms around her waist. I brush a thumb over the little bump hidden beneath her tunic, kissing the side of her face while inhaling her floral scent. “One down, five to go,” I whisper.
She responds with a tearful smile, covering the hand resting on her stomach with her own. “I meant what I said,” she warns. “You better get snipped before these babies are born or no more booty for you.”
I choke. “Consider these nuts as good as chopped.”
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Preview of Pour Judgment
Prologue
Rhett
“Oh, Rhett, yesss…”
I squeeze harder, lapping her nipple into a firm bud through her thin top. My cock stiffens as she grinds her hips to the tempo of the music, giving me a sexy as fuck lap dance. Suddenly I have this inexplicable urge to look up, letting Monica’s tit slip from my mouth. I feel smothered—like all the air has suddenly been pulled from the room.
Who is that?
“It’s fine, Nick—” She digs her heels into the floor. “No, I don’t want to meet—”
“Rhett.” My drummer, Nick, approaches, dragging the very reluctant blonde behind him by the arm. “I’d like to introduce you to my cousin, Korie Potter. Korie, this is Rhett.” He gives her a little shove, landing her on her feet, right in front of my bent knees.
My eyes peruse her sweet little body. Her long blonde hair is pulled back in a low ponytail. There’s not an ounce of makeup on her face. Her eyes are a vibrant shade of emerald, and she has the most delectable little freckles dotting her cheekbones. She’s wearing a black Rolling Stones tee—slightly fitted, the collar ripped so it droops a little, exposing one shoulder. One creamy, slender, tantalizing shoulder. I clear my throat, reaching around the raven-haired beauty presently situated in my lap for Korie’s hand.
“I’m good,” she says, not reaching back, her face scrunched like she’s just gotten a whiff of something foul. “Just carry on with whatev—umm whoever you’re doing.” She whirls back on her cousin, eyes flaming. “I’m gonna go get some air.”
In her haste to get away, she trips over my foot and is sent hurtling face first to the floor. Like in the movies, the music stops and every pair of eyes in the room are on her.
“Oh, shit.” I slide Monica to the side. “Scuse me,” I rush out, blundering to my feet, the alcohol throwing off my balance as I hop around, trying to right my pants zipper before reaching her. “My fault,” I say, shoving the little douche aside who’s trying to help her up. “I’ve got it.”
He throws his hands in the air, backing away.
“Are you all right?” My fingers curl around her upper arm, and inexplicably my pulse begins to race.
Then, she turns toward me, and our eyes truly connect for the first time. Fireworks burst in my chest, and I can’t seem to locate my voice. The attraction is instantaneous.
Well, it is for me at least.
She visibly stiffens. “Get your hands off of me. I’m fine.”
“Just wanted to make sure you were oka—”
She shrugs out of my hold, popping to her feet and righting her clothes. “I said, I’m fine.” She glances around at the slew of eyes fixed on her, sneering at all the snooty females whispering, pointing their manicured nails, and giggling in their Louboutin shoes and designer cocktail dresses. What I found hot not even five minutes ago suddenly seems pretentious and well, boring. “You’re just making it worse,” she grits.
“Right.” Nodding, I withdraw my hand and bring it to my chest. “You all act like you’ve never seen a person trip before,” I say, addressing the crowd. “Get back to it.” I clap my hands loudly toward the DJ, “Music!”
With an annoyed huff, she rolls her eyes and storms off in her black Converse.
Sneakers at a Hollywood party…Who is this girl?
“Don’t take it personally,” Nick says, coming up behind me and clapping me on the shoulder. “She’s Jax’s daughter.”
Jax Potter…Nicholas’s washed-up rock star uncle, who hooked us up with our agent and helped get The Rhett Taylor Band off the ground. So, that explains why her name sounded familiar. But still doesn’t account for her odd reaction toward me.
“Did I umm…Have we met before?” I stare after her until she disappears through the balcony door. “Did I offend her in some way?” I’m beginning to wonder if we’ve maybe hooked up and that’s the reason, I feel this strange connection. But I’m positive I’ve never felt like this before, and she certainly doesn’t seem like someone I’d easily forget.
“Nah, man. This just isn’t her scene. You know Jax…wasn’t easy being the one at home with her mom while he uh…did his thing.” He shrugs. “I’m honestly surprised to see her here at all.”
“Right,” I agree as Monica’s hands slink around my waist from behind. She’s shimmying to the beat of the sultry music, her breasts pressed to my back, but I’m just not in it any longer. “I’ll find you later,” I lie, kissing the tips of her fingers and sending her off to her friends.
She pouts like a child, running a hand over my chest. “Don’t forget me.”
Nick laughs after she walks off. “That’s probably what uh…what did it. She thinks we’re all like her pops.” He gives his shoulders another shrug. “Thanks for the party, man. You’re the best. I’m gonna go check on Korie.”
* * * *
“Ahh, there you are,” I say, finding Korie perched on a wicker couch with a drink in hand. It’s a dark, clear night. She’s staring out at the stars, all alone on the balcony off Nick’s room. “So, I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot.” I take a pull from my beer then clear my throat. “I wanted to find you and reintroduce myself—start over again, you know, in less…awkward circumstances.”
Her head slowly rolls in my direction. The look in her eyes tells me she’s over this conversation before it even begins. “No need. Everyone with the internet knows who you are. You’re Rhett Taylor—bad boy of country music. Playboy. Womanizer.”
“Ouch.” I suck in a breath, bringing a hand to my chest. “Yeah…well, you see what the media wants people to see.”