Page 46 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

Stevie slung the brightly colored package under his arm and took hold of Sam’s hand. She glanced at Lukas. “Why don’t you come with us? We can say hi to my brothers.”

“Can’t wait,” he said under his breath, but he followed her into the house. He made a funny clearing-his-throat noise that made her turn around.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “They only hated you seven years ago when you dumped me. I’m sure they’re over it by now.”

Was Lukas going pale? Sam blinked to be sure. Yep, there was definitely a gray cast to that dark olive skin. Throwing him to the Rushford brothers was going to beso much fun.

She felt a tug on her hand and glanced downward.

“Remember,” Stevie said. “I’m Stevie today. Not Stavros. Got it?”

“Got it.” Smiling, she relented a little and put her other hand on Lukas’s arm. A mistake, because it felt warm from the sun and so ... muscular, not like Hugo’s oversized muscles, yet covered with a soft masculine layer of hair. Startled by her touch, he looked up. She found herself gazing into his warm brown eyes, all irritation replaced by something much darker that suddenly gave her goose bumps. “Cheer up.” Somehow she managed to keep her tone light. “Olivia made mimosas for the grown-ups. I’ll get you one in a minute.”

Actually, she could use one herself. Now that they had finally gotten through the door, the fun was about to begin.

Lukas had never seen such pandemonium. Not that he was a stranger to rock-world pandemonium. Stoned musicians, out of control fans, the inevitable groupies screaming and grabbing at them and trying to get to them backstage ... allthathe could handle, but here—parents, presents, strewn toys, lots of little kids milling around everywhere—he was completely out of his element. Lukas started to go with Stevie, to make sure he was okay and that the other kids didn’t beat up on him, but Stevie took off with Sam, and judging by the evil look the kid just tossed him, he was not keen on Lukas following him. And that made him realize what he’d already guessed: that parenthood was indeed a thankless job.

He walked through a grand old house that he knew Meg and Ben had saved from the wrecking ball. A bright white kitchen occupied by the Rushford women opened up onto a smallish backyard that was currently overrun with kids, many of them Rushford progeny. (These people reproduced like bunnies.) Effie and Meg’s grandma, Gloria, sat on the patio chatting with Gloria’s husband, Maurice.

Then the Rushford Mafia was eyeballing him from across the yard. Three strapping guys, each drinking a beer and watching over the kids running circles around the big backyard. God, he could use one of those beers. And a cigarette. Make that a shot of Jack. And a cigarette. He fingered his upper arm, where his nicotine patch was doing nothing at all as far as he could discern.

From the kitchen, two of the sisters-in-law, Alex and Olivia, just sort of stared, and he could swear Alex scowled. Meg was the only one who smiled. Before he could pick which particular hell he’d like to expose himself to first, two moms who had just dropped off kids saw him standing in a doorway. They began to squeal and giggle and point to him.

Shit. In some ways the cougar moms were worse than the screaming teens.

He started to make a break for the brothers but too late—he was mobbed.

“Oh my God,” one of the women said. She was blonde and very tanned and wore a silky orange halter top overflowing with—um, her breasts. She immediately grabbed his arm and started feeling up his muscles. He gritted his teeth, forced a smile and tried not to pull away. “You are a hundred times more handsome than you are on YouTube. I read that you got your sleeve tattoo because of a love affair gone sour that you never wanted to forget. Is that true?”

“I never kiss and tell,” he said. He’d do the usual shtick he did for fans and get himself the hell out of Dodge.

The second mom, who also looked as though she were dressed for an adult party instead of a child’s—judging by her low-cut silk jumpsuit, high heels, and enough makeup to whip up a batch of pancakes—said, “Heard you sang at Channing Tatum’s kid’s birthday party. Are you singing today?”

“Just a guest,” he said.

“Would you autograph my boobs?” asked the first mom.

Jeez. What the ... The R-rated cleavage wasn’t very sexy. Just ... fleshy. Very, very fleshy. He made sure to look anywhere else because God forbid they’d think he was interested. “I’d love to stay and chat but um, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’ve got to go. Take care, now.” He walked toward the Rushford brothers, praying they wouldn’t throw him under the bus. Even if they did, anything was better than Boob Sister Stalker Moms.

The three men were leaning against a play set, watching various children run around them. Brad was pushing a little girl, no doubt one of his three daughters, on a swing. Ben immediately reached out a hand in greeting and smiled, averting his eyes from the whale shorts. “Nice to see you here, Lukas.”

Oh, thank God. Maybe bygones were going to be bygones.

He caught Brad’s scowl from the corner of his eye. Brad offered a barely civil nod.

Tom, the cop, offered him a beer. He took it and nodded back at Brad, who looked away. Well, two out of three wasn’t bad.

“I see you’ve got fans after you,” Tom said. “Must be hard to live a normal life when you aren’t on tour.”

“Those aren’t fans. They’re rabid Mommy Groupies.” He mumbled a thanks for the beer. The first sip went down ice cold and smooth. The best thing that had happened to him today. Except for seeing Sam.

“So you don’t have your usual security with you?” Tom asked.

He shook his head. “I gave them today off. Plus I feel pretty safe in Mirror Lake, actually.”

“That might be a cavalier attitude considering you’ve got Stevie,” Brad said. “And especially since you’re staying with Sam.”

“I’m staying on Sam’s property, yes,” he said, making sure to emphasizeproperty. To make it clear it wouldn’t be substituted forbedroom. “But I do have my security guys on site, in my tour bus. I’d never allow anything to happen to Sam or Stevie.”

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