Page 72 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

She mock glares at me. “It was your Superman sperm that got me in this condition in the first place!”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess it was. Huh. Kind of like the hair of the dog—”

“Sam, sometimes I like you a whole lot better when you aren’t cracking jokes,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Not taking offense, I grin. “Understood. But I want you to know if you ever need my—services, I’m only too glad to help.” I wiggle my brows.

“You’re incorrigible,” she mutters, shaking her head. But I notice the small grin on her face.

Suddenly serious, I gently ask her, “Em, should I order breakfast, or do you just want tea and crackers?”

She tilts her head consideringly, and then her eyes widen. “I think I can eat breakfast and keep it down,” she says with a delighted smile.

“Great!” I give her a soft kiss, then grab the menu from the nightstand and hand it to her.

I call in the order while she showers. Once she’s dressed, I head to the shower, and by the time I’m done, our breakfast has arrived.

I watch as she hungrily digs in. When she looks up and finds my eyes on her, she gives me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, but I haven’t eaten a real breakfast in days.”

“I know.” I tell her approvingly, “Let me know if you want seconds.”

“No. I’m good,” she murmurs as she wipes her mouth, almost looking surprised that the food is staying down.

When she stands, I slowly approach her. "I enjoyed sharing a bed with my wife," I murmur, pulling her close. The scent of her freshly washed skin and damp hair fills my senses as I kissher softly. She presses against me, fitting perfectly in my arms, and for a moment, I consider being late to call time. We stand like that for a while, then not having time for anything more, we reluctantly gather our belongings and walk to the door.

Before we leave, I take one last look at the rumpled sheets, remembering how it felt to wake up with Emily, her soft breathing and warm skin the first things I was aware of. The bus suddenly seems a lot less appealing.

Her hand is on the door, and she looks at me and smiles. “I hate giving up the room,” then she bites her lip, and her eyes find mine. “Sam, please don’t tell anyone about my suspicions—at least not until we have further proof.”

“I won’t,” I tell her firmly, “But you need to keep me informed.”

She nods at my serious expression, and we both leave the room, joining the rest of the group. As we enter the bus, I heave a sigh, comparing the privacy of the room we just left to the crowded tour bus.

“Everybody in?” The driver asks as he pulls himself up the steps. At our nod, he communicates to the other buses that we’re ready.

My eyes follow Emily as she moves down the aisle, remembering how she felt in my arms this morning. Even worried about the accidents, she carries herself with a grace that draws my attention. I already miss having her close and being able to reach out and touch her whenever I want.

My mind goes back to what she told me about her fears. I understand her wanting proof before we mention it to Cass or anyone else. Right now, the mishaps haven’t been that serious—equipment only, but what happens if she’s right and they are deliberate? Does that mean the threats will become more dangerous?

Damn! Trying to shake off the chilling thought of deliberate sabotage and instead focus on the upcoming performance, I open my guitar case. Usually, playing my guitar helps to ground me. But the image of Emily’s worried face keeps intruding. What if she’s right? What if someone is trying to hurt us or her?

The bus lurches forward, throwing me back against the seat. For a brief panic-filled moment, my imagination goes wild as I picture the stage collapsing and screams of terror. But worse, I imagine Emily, her face pale, clutching her abdomen, terror etched in her beautiful blue eyes.

Suddenly, a voice breaks through my thoughts. "Hey, man, you alright?" It's Luke, his brow furrowed with concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I force a smile, trying to appear calm. "Just… trying to mentally prepare for the performance," I say, my voice rough.

Luke nods understandingly. "Yeah, me too. This next stop is sold out. Gonna be electric tonight."

He's trying to distract me, and I appreciate the gesture. But the worry lingers, hanging over me. I have to find out who is behindthese accidents and stop them. But In the meantime, I need to focus on the music and the performance.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and plan my strategy. Tonight, while everyone else is lost in the thrill of the performance, I’ll be keeping my eyes on Emily. I must keep her safe—above all else.

Twenty-Three

Emily

The performance goes off without a hitch. No mishaps, no accidents.

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