“Nicely done.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AFTER A THANKSGIVING day full of food, an announcement of a brand-new generation of Hurleys on the way from Mary and Damien and much more thankfulness and food, Paddy closed and locked his front door, setting the alarm. He had kooky fans but mainly, he had a need to protect Natalie that seemed to grow daily.
Her father had been lurking around town, and Paddy didn’t like that he’d gone to Natalie’s grandmother to manipulate and hurt her that way. He didn’t put it past the man to track her down up on the ranch if he decided it was his right to.
Then again, the man would be lucky to be caught by the alarm before one of the Hurleys got hold of him. He hadn’t shared with anyone else, but Sharon knew, and once his mother knew something, his father did, and while Michael Hurley was utterly laid-back in most things, the man would kill to protect what he felt was his.
And because Natalie was Paddy’s, she was Michael’s, too.
“Big day, huh?” He followed her upstairs where she headed straight to the master bathroom.
“It was a good day. I like your family, Paddy.”
She got undressed while the water for her shower got hot.
“They like you, too.” He tipped his chin toward the shower enclosure. “Want company?”
She gave him a look over her shoulder that got his attention nearly as well as all that pretty naked skin did.
She got in and he followed, sliding his skin against hers until he felt better. Taking the shampoo—her shampoo she now kept here at his place—he took over, lathering it into her hair as she tipped back into him.
This moment was everything. Everything he’d needed and never knew it until she came into his life.
Her eyes closed, she leaned on him, let him take care of her. This woman who did everything on her own—born from necessity at a really early age—letting him take care of her.
And it didn’t feel predatory. It didn’t feel calculated. It didn’t feel overwhelming or clingy at all. Putting her first, wanting her to be happy and taken care of had a sort of comfort to it.
He rinsed the shampoo away, and she stood under the spray for long moments, her eyes closed, one hand touching his hip as he stood under the opposite showerhead.
When she finally opened her eyes, that shock of connection roared through him as her gaze locked with his.
Two steps was all it took for him to touch, to pull her close and drop his mouth to hers. She met him halfway, tiptoeing up. Instead of wrapping her arms around him, she slid soapy palms all over his torso and back before finding his cock.
“Yes.” He thrust into her hold even as he kept kissing her lips, her cheeks, her chin.
She added her other hand, cupping his sac. He leaned back against the tile, watching her, his gaze moving from the look of concentration she wore to the way she handled him.
She loved touching him this way. He arched into her like a cat, taking what she offered without any shame. In this, between the two of them, they worked perfectly. Their bodies saying words she wasn’t sure either of them was brave enough to speak yet.
He’d get impatient soon enough, but until then, she’d tease him, drive him upward toward his peak. He liked being in her when he came. This flattered her for reasons she wasn’t sure of, but it didn’t matter. It worked. Made her feel sexy, and that was good, too.
She added a twist each time she reached the head and he groaned, taking her upper arms and spinning them so it was her back against the tile.
“Don’t move.”
He got out and returned quickly, wearing a condom. “Probably need to leave these in more places since you’re here more often.”
He drizzled her liquid soap all over her breasts, following with his hands, his fingers pulling and rolling her nipples on each pass.
Her eyes drifted closed as she allowed herself to fall into his touch. It was beautiful and reverent and yet, he didn’t wrap her up like she’d break, either. It was the perfect line he walked.
He kissed her as one of those slippery hands found her center, fingers teasing her clit, her hips jutting forward to get more.
Again, he turned her. “Hands against the tile,” he whispered in her ear. He nibbled the back of her neck, his fingers still busy on her nipple and at her clit until she could barely stand.
It was too much and not quite enough until he nudged her feet apart and the head of his cock pushed against her, entering her in one slow but insistent thrust.
The joy of it filled her, arced up her spine, swelled her heart. He held her, bringing her pleasure as he made love to her. And as dirty and hard as it was, it was making love. Even when it was fucking, it was that. She wasn’t a faceless, nameless groupie; she wasn’t meaningless or a person he was with to pass the time. She was someone with him.
Someone to him.
Orgasm seized her muscles and then let go as it flowed through her, taking her under as she rested her head against his shoulder.
His body curled around hers, his hands, less busy now, splayed over her skin. Holding her up. Keeping her where he wanted, how he wanted.
“I love it when you come when I’m in you. The way your body clutches around my cock. So good. Nearly too good.”
He took his time until the water began to cool.
He shifted, his hands leaving her body, joining hers on the tile as he picked up the pace. Harder. Faster. She writhed against him until little aftershock orgasms rolled through her. He snarled her name and pushed in one last time, as deep as he could, and came.
But he wasn’t done. Because they rinsed off and he got out first, bringing her a towel that was nice and warm. He wrapped her in it, rubbing her gently until she was dry and warm. She watched him, a smile on her face as he got dried off and then, surprising her totally, he bent, picked her up and took her into his bedroom.
She managed to get her underpants and some pajamas on as he took care of the fire.
“I have champagne if you want. Or we can have tea or hot chocolate.”
“You don’t have to be so careful about offering me alcohol. I told you, I don’t have a problem with drinking in and of itself. Champagne would be lovely, I think. It’s been a day full of stuff to celebrate.”
He poured them each a glass, turned on some music—The National—and came to join her. Of course he wasn’t wearing pajamas, which she had no complaints about.
He clinked his glass to hers. “Thank you.”
She cocked her head. “For what?”
He snorted. “For putting up with my family. For caring about people. For being what you are to me.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “Well, thank you for letting me be part of your crazy family and for being a person I can care about.”
He kissed her and settled back against the pillows. They watched the stars through the skylight and just lay with one another. It had been a really good day.
* * *
HE’D NEVER IN his life been nervous to meet people before. Not even label people when they were first trying to get signed. Well, he did get a little bit of butterflies when he met Neil Young, but Neil Young was the closest thing to a deity on earth Paddy could imagine, so that was different.
Natalie had met his family and had found her way to fit into their world, and this was her family. He already knew and liked Tuesday, but this was the rest.
She took his hand as he juggled a bag full of gifts she’d brought for them all.
The house was a typical 1950s Seattle split-level. Steep stairs from the sidewalk out front wound through a pretty garden to a front door that burst open with a squeal of Natalie’s name.
Bright red hair streaked toward her. Nat’s face brightened and she opened her arms. “Dee!” They hugged, laughing and talking in that way women did. At hyperspeed, interspersed with shorthand and a bunch of stuff Paddy knew nothing of.
And another layer of this woman unfurled. Like a flower. Like art. She was fucking beautiful.
&nb
sp; He smiled because he rarely saw her like this. Open and full of joy.
She turned to him, her arm around her friend. “Delia, this is Paddy. Paddy, this is Delia.”
Delia gave him a long look and side-eyed Natalie. “Nicely done.” She held her hand out to Paddy. “Nice to meet you. Come on in. Everyone wants to meet you, but they’re all pretending they’re too cool to peek out the windows.”
Paddy grinned, taking her hand and shaking before they all headed in.
A chorus of Nat’s name went up, and she was engulfed in hugs for a few minutes before she managed to get free and send him an apologetic smile.
“Okay, everyone, this is Patrick Hurley. Better known as Paddy. Paddy—” she pointed to the redhead “—you know Delia. She lives in Portland and makes documentaries. Standing next to her is Rosie Morgan. She lives in Brooklyn.”
“The one who scouts locations, right?”
Natalie nodded and looked back to the tall brunette. “We don’t get to see her as often as we’d like. But we take what we can get.”
Two women, clearly a couple, stood forward. One of them with a no-nonsense ponytail and gorgeous blue eyes behind cat-eye glasses grinned at Natalie and then over to him. “I’m Zoe. I’m glad to meet you. If you’re not nice to our Natalie, we’re going to hunt you down and maim you.”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “Never mind her. She spends too much time in the sun without a hat. And last but never ever least is Jenny Dan. Schoolteacher and all around awesome woman. This is Jenny and Zoe’s house.”
He loved being around them all. They had that sort of shorthand born of many years of a relationship. They finished each other’s sentences. They knew who liked what on their sandwiches and popcorn.
They didn’t fawn over him, but they sincerely wanted to know about him.
“So you knew Natalie from back in the day?” Jenny’s brow rose. “My first day at Evergreen, my parents dropped me off at housing. When I got up to our apartment, Nats was already there. She had this long blond hair and this body. Wow. I was like, hubba hubba, I hope she’s gay because I want some of that.”
Natalie laughed, blushing. “Then Zoe came in, and suddenly, Jenny realized blonde wasn’t her type, after all.”
Jenny looked to Zoe, and he saw that depth of connection they shared.
“Sweet Nat and Delia were wild back then. They’d party all the time and yet kick ass in school, too.”
Delia grinned. “That first year we all grew up. Which is lucky, because I really need those brain cells.”
“Most of us ended up staying in Oly that summer. We got a house on the west side of Olympia, right off the bus route. We lived in that house until after graduation.”
“Oh, I thought you guys stayed in 1022?”
Natalie stole one of his chips. “It might have been on the 10th floor and had multiple bedrooms, but it had a shared kitchen with the other rooms on ten. And it was loud. Tuesday’s parents live in Olympia, and her dad knew someone who was looking to rent a house. They did not really jump for joy when they saw five women wanted to rent it. But the Eastwoods vouched for us, and we paid a huge security deposit and promised to never have animals. Sometimes when we go to visit Tuesday’s parents, we drive by it and get all nostalgic. Over the years it’s been the home of other Evergreen students. It sort of passes from one group to the next.”
“So she was wild?” He waggled his brows and everyone laughed.
Delia snorted. “We were nineteen years old. Hell, Tuesday was eighteen, as was Jenny. We were all wild in one way or another. By the time we graduated, we’d all grown up.”
He’d known her then, in that wild time before she’d gone off to college. She’d been a flame, burning fast and bright. He’d responded to that. To all that silky blond hair and her big blue eyes. She’d been game for everything he’d wanted and had had plenty of her own ideas.
But this Natalie? Behind closed doors, she was still game for everything he wanted and had plenty of her own ideas. Her control was a way she made sense of the world filled with chaos. Her wildness in private was her guilty pleasure, only without the guilt.
* * *
THEY WATCHED ALIEN and Aliens, and he learned a new side of her. She was good at her job. He’d seen her with the patrons at the library, and she was always warm and welcoming. Had seen her with his family and with Tuesday. He knew she was a funny, generous personality, but with these women, she was utterly unguarded. Comfortable.
It made him appreciate how easy she was around him now.
They teased one another. Mocked. Poked and bickered. These women were family in every way but biological. She’d been right to say as much to her grandmother, though he doubted that point would make sense to the woman.
They all took turns poking at him, trying to figure out if he was good enough for Natalie. Natalie let most of it happen, only stepping in if they got too nosy. And they ignored her, anyway.
Finally, Zoe threw her hands up. “Okay, fine. Did you want to be a musician from day one?”
“I wanted to be a rancher, actually.” He snorted a laugh. “I wanted to do what my dad did. What his dad did. But when we’d stay out of trouble, my parents bribed us with musical instruments. Ezra, that’s my oldest brother, he was first, and then we all wanted to be like him. Then my parents bribed us for time in the barn to learn how to play. In the early days, it was a way to get girls. A way to rock and roll and get drunk and be away from the house.”
“I’m going to guess you always had it, though.” Natalie looked so good eating that ice cream, he wanted to lick her, too.
“It?”
“People who take it past success in media to become celebrities. Stars. You have charisma, Paddy. It rolls off you in waves and makes the ladies and probably a lot of the dudes, too, weak in the knees. You look at the camera in your music videos, and you know when to wink or give that sexy smile. You know how to work what you have, and yet you never come off calculated. The it factor.”
He liked that she said it, maybe even wanted to blush. He couldn’t deny being aware of it. Couldn’t deny that he’d used it even when he was young, to get attention and keep it on their band. There were lots of great, talented people in the world. People who were better than Sweet Hollow Ranch who’d never get that attention because they didn’t have that it she talked about.
The band loved to support up-and-comers, and they did it as often as they could. It was a key factor in who they chose to open for them when they went on tour, too. They liked using their power for something positive.
“My parents let us start doing small gigs when Ezra and I were done with high school. But we had to keep within an hour of Hood River. My mom and dad went with us most of the time, trying to keep us out of trouble.” He laughed. “My mom is not someone to be messed with. Even early on, she protected us from getting screwed over. Anyway, I was twenty when we were all done with school and we were at a gig. A sort of battle-of-the-bands thing. There were execs from labels there. Ezra pushed me up front and said, ‘the chicks dig that wink you do. Drop some panties so we can win this.’”
Natalie burst out laughing.
“Anyway, I can’t say I’m blind to the charisma thing. Or that I don’t know how to use it. It’s another way to sell my band and that’s part of it. But it’s fun. Being a musician feeds a part of me that needs creation to be happy. I could sit around all the time noodling on my guitar writing songs and be ridiculously satisfied. But the rock-star part is why I get to travel all over the world. It’s why I got to meet and eventually became friends with my musical influences. I can make sure my parents have a comfortable life and support all the charities my mom is involved with and start a musical charity of my own with some of my friends. It gets me great tables in restaurants, excellent seats at the theater. Flying is a hell of a lot nicer in first class, I can’t lie. It sucks to be stalked by people with cameras, who want to know all sorts of stuff that’s not their business, like when my brother got divo
rced and when my other brother got married last year. My friend had to move away from his place in West Seattle out to Bainbridge Island into a house with a gate and high security to protect his family from crazy fans and the paps.” He lifted a hand, palm up. “It’s not all perfect, but that’s how it works these days, so you gotta work as hard as you can to wall that off.”
And in the matter of a long Friday after Thanksgiving, he won his way into a provisional membership into 1022.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DECEMBER SETTLED IN as Paddy spent more time getting this album on track with his brothers. He spent long hours daily writing, rewriting, working on arrangements and production.
And when he wasn’t doing that, he was with Natalie. She had a busy life, too. She had her job and her friends, and she did volunteer work, a lot of it with his mom and Mary.
As the time to get into the studio approached, label people liked to sniff around to see what was going on. Because it was their studio and not time the label leased out, the Hurleys had more control, but they had advances to deal with and other basic industry bullshit.
Currently, Jeremy, their manager, was in town and staying with Paddy. He’d been with them since pretty much the beginning, and Paddy considered him a friend as well as a business associate.
It was late after a long night working, and they all sat outside the barn around the fire pit drinking beer and blowing off steam. “So when do I get to meet this woman you’re seeing? You talk about her so much, I feel like I know her.”
“She’s got some sort of board meeting or other tonight, and then she’s hanging with her girlfriend who’s visiting from out of town.” He’d gotten used to her awfully fast. It was sort of freaky. But the way she just accepted his life with all its noise and chaos comforted him. Filled him up and made him feel whole. “She’ll be here tomorrow night for dinner, though.”
Vaughan cracked open another beer. “We still going out afterward? We haven’t gone to Portland since the spring. You have a girlfriend and Damien is breeding. We have lots to celebrate. Plus, we need to show Jeremy a good time before he heads up to Bainbridge Island to hang out with Adrian.” Adrian being Adrian Brown, major huge rock star and also a client of Jeremy’s.