Page 102 of When the Storm Breaks
“So this is your cowboy?” He narrowed his eyes as he took a drag of his cigarette. “I can see why you’d be tempted to ride him hard. But mate, you look more like a beach bum than a cowboy.” Bastian’s mouth turned down in disappointment. “I was hoping for tight Wranglers and a Stetson at the very least.”
“Sorry to disappoint. Left my boots and spurs at home.”
“Next time bring them with you. And the ropes and chaps too while you’re at it.” Bastian winked.
Brody snorted, and ran his hand through his hair, not quite sure what to make of Bastian. A lot of people felt that way, but Bastian’s heart was in the right place, he’d been a good friend to me over the years, and that was all that mattered to me.
He extended his hand to Brody and they shook. “How’s it going, mate?”
“Yeah, it’s all good.” Brody looked down at me then back at Bastian. “Thanks for having me.”
I caught the wicked gleam in Bastian’s eye. “I haven’t had you—”
“Stop,” I said, laughing. “Ease him in gently.”
Bastian flashed us a smile. He was in a good mood today. “And it looks like I never will.” He held his hand over his heart. “I wouldn’t want to break my little chanteuse’s heart.”
“No fucking clue what a little chanteuse is but glad to hear it,” Brody said gruffly.
“Another one that got away.” Bastian sighed dramatically and waved his cigarette in the air, indicating we should follow him. Brody grabbed both of our bags and Bastian led us through the house, pointing out the chef’s kitchen, the living area decorated with Oriental rugs, red sofas, antiques and tapestries, all of which he declared hideous. But the view of the Med from the French doors that opened onto a terracotta courtyard and lush gardens more than made up for the décor.
He told us there was a wine cellar and a cinema room downstairs. Then led us up a staircase, with floral wallpaper and oil paintings on the walls. Whoever decorated this house obviously wasn’t going for a beachy theme. We followed him down a long Oriental carpeted hallway with more oil paintings and antique gold wall sconces.
At the end of the hallway, Bastian opened the door to a huge bedroom decorated in muted browns, sienna, and ivory, an ornately carved canopy bed taking center stage, the French doors affording another spectacular sea view. The first thing I did was cross the room and throw open the doors to let the sea air in. I knew how much Brody craved fresh air and open spaces. He joined me by the French doors and stepped onto the wrought-iron balcony, surveying the scenery. Down below, a few people were on loungers by the kidney-shaped pool, sipping cocktails. Hayden was talking to Cato, Bastian’s drummer, and a stick-thin brunette who worked for the record label. She was topless. When in the south of France.
“Make yourselves at home, yeah?”
I turned from the French doors and thanked Bastian. He was standing in the open doorway, leaning against the doorframe, the thin cigarette dangling from his lips. “How many people are staying here besides us?”
“Depends on the day. Today it’s six. Or ten.” He ran his hand through his longish dark hair. He was wearing silver skull rings on every finger. “Fuck if I know. I’ll leave you to it. The fridges are fully stocked and if you’re hungry, Kristoff will sort you out.”
Kristoff was Bastian’s private chef. He always took him on tour with him, so he didn’t have to eat ‘shit food.’
The door closed behind Bastian and I joined Brody on the balcony and wrapped my arm around his waist. “Are you okay?”
He slung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close to his side. “Right as rain.”
His eyes were on the sea, and I searched his profile, not sure if he was telling the truth. “Are you sure?”
He turned his head then and gave me a soft smile. “Stop looking so worried.” He touched my nose with his index finger. “I can hold my own.”
“I know. I just…” I gnawed on my lower lip, not sure what I was so worried about. Except that I wanted him to be happy, I guess.
“Hey. Listen to me.” His tone was serious, and he held my gaze, wanting me to hear his words and believe him. “I’m just happy to be here with you. It doesn’t matter to me if we’re in a swanky villa in the south of France or in the middle of Bumfuck. I wantyouto be happy. I want you to spend time with your friends and chill out and relax. I’ve seen how grueling your schedule is. You work so fucking hard and you barely have a minute to yourself. Stop worrying about me. Just relax and enjoy yourself. Okay?”
I smiled. “Okay. Beach or swimming pool?”
“Let’s try out the bed first.”
Before I had a chance to reply, he lifted me off the ground and tossed me over his shoulder. I was laughing when my back hit the mattress. He dove on top of me and rolled us over, so I was on top, straddling him.
“Ride me hard, baby. Like I’m your bucking bronc.”
That made me laugh harder. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me down for a kiss that tasted like the cinnamon gum he was chewing earlier.
I wanted to tell him that I loved him, because I did, but maybe it was too soon to say the words. So I didn’t.
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