Page 132 of Ghost Note

“I don’t know how you forget that band’s name every single time.”

“Because it’s a stupid name.”

“Wash your mouth out.”

“It’salmostas stupid as Front Row Frogs.”

“I already told you, Toilet Seat Toads was taken.”

Daisy huffed out a laugh, and I flashed her a smile that I knew had the same effect on her as those tits had on me. This guess-the-intro game was her favourite to play after a year of me surrounding her with so much music that she was now becoming an encyclopaedia of the greats. Halo, Fletch, Archer, and Theo had given her a hard time those first few days on tour, asking how on earth a woman of her age could be so uncultured when it came to music. After throwing a tantrum that only made me want to throw her on the bed and devour her, she’d begged me to teach her some musical history.

Now, here she was, able to put me through my paces more often than not. You didn’t issue a challenge to a woman like Daisy Piper and expect her to lose.

She was nothing if not determined. The butterfly had emerged, and she had wings that were confident and blinding.

We played this game most mornings, whether laid in bed in Paris, Munich, Rotterdam, Milan, Miami, or LA. In the last twelve months, Daisy had travelled the world with me while also juggling her business. Granted, she’d hired staff to help her now, but she was a home bird at heart, no matter how much she kept pushing this new adventurous side of herself. After too long away, she’d say she needed to stumble back home to see her family and Gina, and I’d let her go.

I fucking hated letting her go now.

Flashbacks to all those times alone in hotel rooms, not knowing where the hell I was or what day it was, would flash through my mind every time I watched her walk away.

All those times I’d pined for her.

All those notes I’d played in her honour without her knowing a thing about any of them.

The dreams I’d had of her face, quickly followed by the regret of the last memory I had of her looking at me like she hated me, too. Daisy hadn’t been in my life physically, but she’d been with me every step of the way. She’d always owned my mind.

There was no doubt that this woman loved me again now. She showed me in ways I hadn’t known possible. But there was always a little niggle in the back of my mind.

What if she didn’t come back?

What if someone got to her while I wasn’t there, and they made her realise she’d been a fool to run back into the arms of the very guy who broke her heart?

What if she finally saw sense?

What if she finally realised just how damn beautiful she really was?

Those doubts were washed away the second I’d see her name lighting up my phone screen, and when I’d hear her voice, whispering sweet promises of all the dirty things she wanted us to try as soon as we were back together.

Oh, yeah. My girl had become vocal, able to use her sexuality to get me to do, well, any-fucking-thing she desired.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, breaking me from my daydream.

I blinked up at her. “You.”

“Anything good?”

“Always.”

She guessed a few more songs correctly, and I let out a yawn after being kept awake all night.

“My man is tired,” she said, tilting her head as my yawn tailed off. “Do you want to take a nap before the wedding this afternoon?”

“Do we have time?”

Daisy glanced at the clock on the wall. “We don’t have to be there until 2:30 p.m. That gives you a couple of hours before we need to shower and get you looking your finest. Not that you don’t look divine right now, sitting there with those washboard abs on display.”

I glanced down at my bare chest and the loose, grey jogging bottoms that Daisy seemed to be obsessed with before I looked back up at her. “Can’t I just go like this and make that nap a three-hour one instead then?”

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