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As they always did when the band was on tour, the weeks had flown by. Steve hadn’t thought he could be any happier than he’d been a month ago, but each day was a little more spectacular than the last. It had all started with that picture Roux had posted online. He’d been a little embarrassed at first to be depicted at his most vulnerable, but women—and more than a few gay men—had gone wild, declaring exploded ovaries and drool-induced dehydration. He’d gotten a kick out of it. He was accustomed to sexually charged attention and was glad that Roux trusted he would never take advantage of all the lust that had been stirred up by his sex face. A few days later she’d posted pictures of the two of them as lovebird tourists in Madrid and embarrassed the hell out of him by revealing his tradition of offering her three gifts at every opportunity. Like his sex-face picture, the recognition of his generous and sappy nature had sent the romantic hearts of tens of thousands rooting for their continued love. It turned out that the American Inquirer hit newsstands the very next day, too soon after they’d gone public to stop the distribution. Highlighting their story with front page headlines, the paper had published a derogatory and obviously false account about his relationship with Roux. The rag hinted she was hiding her identity because her band was a joke. Everyone already knew better on both counts. Roux had won over the public in their favor, having slanted her initial hesitance in revealing her identity in a more favorable light: she shouldn’t have mixed business with pleasure, but who could resist bragging about Steve?
Scrambling to save face—though the libel lawsuits had already been set into motion by Dare’s oddly gleeful attorneys—the paper had published a retraction about the first story and in the same issue had included the pictures of Tamara and Steve together. He wasn’t so great after all, was the inference. He’d cheated on Roux, who obviously loved him with all her heart. What kind of selfish man-whore asshole was he? He’d cheated on his first wife as well—proof provided in the signed divorce papers citing infidelity as the cause. Surely this would turn the public’s opinion on the rock star couple who posted adorable selfies and threw their intense passion and love for each other out for all the world to see.
But brilliant Roux was one step ahead of them again. Days before, she’d posted a video of Steve talking about his experience with being roofied. She hadn’t asked him to reveal who’d drugged him, but his lab results had come back positive, and in the video he’d encouraged anyone who suspected they’d been drugged and sexually violated to at least get tested. That way they’d have proof if they wanted to try getting a conviction.
Roux hadn’t even had to put two and two together for people. Just hours after she’d posted the video on their already widely read page, a side-by-side picture meme had been generated by a follower. It showed Steve’s much loved sex-face picture on one side—labeled “man enjoying some good pussy”—contrasted with one of the slack-faced unconscious pictures of him with Tamara—“man forced to take bad pussy.” The meme quickly went viral. Accusations against Tamara exploded on other sites. Their followers were adamant that Steve press charges of molestation, drink spiking, and even rape against her. He still hadn’t decided if he’d go forward with a criminal case or not. Yet such a bold action might encourage women who’d experienced similar situations. If he could speak out, then so could they.
So by the time the second article about Steve “cheating” with Tamara hit the newsstands, people already knew the truth. A follower spread the idea of buying copies of the paper and burning them as worthless, but Roux was quick to point out that it was far better if not a single copy of that garbage was sold. Stores were surprised when people who initially purchased the paper returned it for a refund.
Steve had no idea how Roux had known that going public would not only destroy Tamara but also cause Bianca’s stupid tabloid to fold. She’d even managed to make him out to be a hero with just a few well-timed pictures and videos. The woman was brilliant.
He stepped up behind her at the table in their hotel room—she never even bothered to store her luggage in Raven’s room anymore—and kissed the top of her head. She was posting a picture on their page of the two of them riding in a horse-drawn carriage around the immense Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna. They were laughing because the horse had chosen to take a shit while they were posing.
She looked up, and when their eyes met, his heart melted.
“Are you plotting to have horses outlawed for ruining our selfie?”
“Nope,” she said. “I’ve got no beef with horses.”
“You never have a beef with anyone, Ms. Vegetarian.”
She giggled. “That was totally a dad joke.”
He perked up and slid a hand down to cover her belly. “Does that mean you’re pregnant?”
“No.”
“Do you want to be?”
She covered his hand with hers and pressed it more firmly into her stomach. “Maybe someday.”
“With my baby?”
“Maybe someday,” she said again with a dreamy smile. She turned back to her screen and corrected a typo in the picture’s description before posting it.
“I still have a tofu with your ex-wife,” she said.
“A tofu?”
“Since I can’t have a beef with her.”
He laughed. “Now that was a dad joke.”
“We should let people know that you never cheated on Bianca. She cheated, not you. That divorce? Her idea.”
“It’s in the past, baby. Let it go.”
Roux shook her head. “I’m taking her down. She doesn’t deserve any consideration from you. And then when she’s curled up in the fetal position crying with her disgusting sister, I’m going after Sam.”
Steve cringed. “Max and Dare will not be happy if anything we do messes up their legal battles.”
“I can wait.”
“Remind me never to do you wrong, baby.”
“It’s not doing me wrong that you have to worry about. It’s doing someone I love wrong that I can never forgive.”
“Your sisters are all divine goddesses!” he declared. “And your mother should be sainted.”
She nodded sharply. “Agreed.”
He slid his hand into his pocket, the three small boxes inside impossible to ignore. He’d meant to wait until they were taking a romantic boat ride through Venice—their next stop on the tour—but he’d never been a patient man. He knelt before her, removing the three boxes from his pocket and setting them in a row across her bare thigh. The pink one said maybe on top, the white one said no, and the red yes. She drew in a sharp breath, and her gaze darted up to meet his.
“Steve?”
“I’m sure someone will say it’s too soon for this. I just hope it isn’t you.” He took her hand in his. His heart was thudding so hard, he felt light-headed. Where was his rock star cool when he needed it? “The only thing that could possibly top having you at my side is being able to call you my beloved wife while you’re there.”
Her eyes widened. “Steve?”
“You are everything I’ve waited for my entire life—with uncharacteristic patience, I might add—and everything I want for the rest of my years. Roux—”
Her eyes widened further. “Steve?”
He kissed her knuckles, offering her strength when he probably should have saved what little remained for himself.
“Roux,” he tried again, “will you make me even happier than you’ve already made me and marry me?”
She reached for the red box so quickly that the other two boxes tumbled from her leg. She dropped out of the chair and tossed herself against his chest, smashing his lips into his teeth as she kissed him breathless.
“Yes?” Even though she’d snatched up the yes box, he had to hear her say it.
“I picked the red one, didn’t I? Yes, I’ll marry you, Steve. A million times yes.”
“I picked the red one too.” But he was referring to his favorite member of Baroquen, not a box. Smiling, he took the ring box from her trembling hand. When he opened it, she gasped at the two-carat diamond sparkling at her from within. She held her left hand out and allowed him to slip the ring onto her third finger.
“It’s huge, Steve,” she said, holding the perfect princess cut diamond to catch the light. “How will I ever be able to play my keyboard with all this weight on my finger?”
“Then be glad you weren’t indecisive,” he said. He retrieved the pink maybe box from beneath the table and showed her the three-carat ring inside. The entire band was also covered with diamonds. In the box was a sad-faced puppy dog picture on a tiny card that read, “Please.”
“I knew I’d made the right choice,” she said. “That ring is a tad excessive.”
She picked up the white no box and opened it. There was a cheap plastic ring in that one. The card read “You lose. Try again.”
She laughed and hugged him again, staring at her hand and the new diamond over his shoulder. “I’m so glad I won.”
“Nuh-uh,” he said. “I’m the winner.”
“Me. I win.”
“Not having it, Roux. I won fair and square.”
“We’ll just have to call this one a tie.”
He took her elbows in his hands—knowing damn well he was the real winner, but not wanting to argue—and urged her to her feet. Kissing her, he slowly walked her backward to the bed. He predicted a winning streak in his near future. He was going to make her come first this morning even if it meant tying a knot in his dick.
A knock at the door made him groan aloud. He’d checked the schedule; he had two hours before they had to be on the plane to Venice.
“Go away, Butch!” he called before lowering his voice to say to Roux, “I’m about to get busy with my fiancée.”
That did have a nice ring to it.
“Butch no here,” a very familiar voice said. “Housekeeping! You need towels? You need lotion and tissues?”
“Isn’t that Zach?” Roux asked, giving Steve a little shove.
She knew how worried Steve had been about him. He hadn’t heard much from Zach since he’d dashed off at the airport. Steve had even tried searching on the Internet for any leakage of Enrique’s private getaway with a mysterious lover. He hadn’t found a single clue as to Zach’s whereabouts. If he hadn’t gotten a text a week ago that said Knock it off, I’m fine, Steve would have filed a missing person’s report by now.
He kissed Roux once more—offering her the promise of later in a heated glance—before rushing to open the door.
“You have some seriously bad timing, man,” Steve said, noting that his friend looked thin and tired, not like he’d been enjoying a relaxing beach vacation with his lover.
“If I waited until you weren’t having sex or about to have sex, I’d never—”
His words were cut off by Steve jerking him into a tight hug and pounding him on the back.
“I’ve missed you.”
Zach hugged and pounded on him in return. “I’m not sure how. You’ve been having way too much fun without your third wheel. It’s been great to see you so happy.”
Steve pulled away to squint at him. “How could you know . . .”
“Instagram,” they said in unison.
“Brilliant move, by the way,” Zach said. “I hear a certain tabloid is going down fast. Just don’t tell me that perfect couple stuff is all staged. I don’t think my broken heart could take it.”
“It’s real,” Steve assured him. He backed into the room. Zach followed him inside and the door shut behind him. “So you haven’t been enjoying a romantic two weeks with Enriq—”
Zach lifted a hand. “Don’t say his name.”
“Sorry.”
“Hey, Zach,” Roux said, her voice soft and full of concern. “We’ve been worried.”
“I needed some time to work things out. Been putting miles on my new motorcycle on the backroads.”
“That sounds nice.”
She squeezed his arm, and he grabbed her wrist to hold her hand up in the air. Her new engagement ring caught the morning sunlight streaming in through the window.
“What the fuck is this?”
Roux beamed. “Steve just asked me to marry him.”
Zach crinkled up half his face as if he’d tasted something extremely bitter. “And you said yes?”
She laughed and nodded. “Of course I said yes.”
“I told you that you had bad timing,” Steve said. “We haven’t even consummated the engagement yet.”
He slipped an arm around Roux’s back, resting his hand on her hip.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I should have stayed away—”
“No,” Roux said. She took Zach firmly by one arm and shoved him into a chair at the dining table. “You look like you haven’t eaten since I last saw you. There’s some fruit there to get you started,” she said. “I’ll order you a hot breakfast.”
Steve wasn’t sure why her fussing over his friend made him love her even more. While she was on the phone ordering enough food to make up for two weeks of starvation, Steve sank into the chair across from Zach.
“Are you okay? Why did he dump you?” Steve was careful not to use Enrique’s name.
Zach was helping himself to the half-eaten slice of ham on Steve’s plate. “Why do you automatically think he dumped me?”
“Because you’re obsessed with him.”
“While I was on my way to meet him in the prearranged secret location, I realized I want what you have with Roux, and I’m never going to get that with Enrique. So I stood him up, and then I was ultra-lame and broke up with him via text message.”
Which was probably a good thing, because if Zach had seen Enrique in person, he likely would have faltered.
“What about you,” Zach said, “are you okay? That date-rape stuff with Tam—”
Steve lifted a hand. “Don’t say its name.”
“Sorry I wasn’t here for you when you needed me.” He glanced over at Roux, who was grinning ear to ear and texting a flurry of messages—most likely to her sisters about her new ring. “I left you in good hands, though. Congratulations, by the way. So will you rent your house to me now?”
Steve chuckled. “If she doesn’t want to live there, but don’t make her feel sorry for you so she’ll let you have it. I love that place and hope she does too.”
“Hey, Roux?” Zach called to her. “You don’t want to live in California, do you?”
“Yeah, I do. Especially in the winter,” she said.
“Steve’s house is really small,” Zach added.
“I like cozy. Keeps us close.”
“Knock it off,” Steve warned Zach. He would love to build their lives together in his little shack by the sea.
“I also love wide-open spaces,” she said, and Steve cringed, thinking she’d want a big ol’ mansion in Malibu like Bianca had. “I hope we can stay on the family farm in the fall at harvest time. We’ll need a relaxing, quiet place to stay after all the summer tours.”
He loved that she wanted to spend months on the farm and winters in California, but what about seeing her family?
Oh.
“And there’s no place like New York in the spring,” Steve said, catching on to where she was going with this. They could make their lives together in all the places that were important to them, and once they decided to start a family, they could settle somewhere more permanent. He didn’t care where, as long as they were together.
“I couldn’t agree more,” she said, smiling at him with utter devotion.
A loud knock sounded, and Roux turned toward the door. “Fastest room service ever,” she said, hurrying to answer.
“You will not post another picture on the Internet for the rest of the tour,” Sam said. He jabbed a finger into Roux’s chest, and Steve was on his feet in an instant.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve said, rushing forward and shifting Roux behind him. He blocked Sam’s entry into the room by taking up as much space in the doorframe as possible “You touch her again, and I’ll break your fingers.”
Sam didn’t touch her again, but he did continue to yell.
“If I see one more cutesy picture of you with this character”—he pointed at Steve—“posted anywhere, I’m sending Baroquen back to New York and canceling your appearances.”
“You can’t do that!” Roux squeezed into the doorframe next to Steve, but he threw out an arm to stop her from entering the hall. There were sharks in those waters.
“I can do whatever I want.” Sam crossed his arms and his chin jutted forward. “I own your band. Without me, you’re nothing.”
“You’re so wrong,” Steve said, surprised he wasn’t angrier. The man he loathed above all others was threatening the woman he loved, and some strange sense of calm had washed over him. “Without us, you’re nothing.”
“What? I made you.” He jabbed a pointed finger in Steve’s direction but wisely did not touch him. “And her. And even him.” He nodded toward Roux and Zach.
“No, you promoted me, and her, and not so much him, but you didn’t make anything. We’re the ones who make the music. You just help us find people who like what we make. And I can’t speak for Baroquen or Twisted Element, but I can speak for Exodus End. We don’t need you anymore. You’re fired.”
Oh yeah, the guys were going to kill him later for that one, but he didn’t give a fuck at that moment, and the astonished look on Sam Baily’s face was worth any browbeating Max would throw Steve’s way later.
“You can’t fire me.”
“I just did.”
“Well, I’ll . . . I’ll cancel all the promotional events I’ve arranged.” Sam’s face had turned a delightful shade of red.
“Which would be welcome,” Steve said. “You have us running ragged all the time. Besides . . .” Steve shrugged. “If we want to reschedule any of those events, I’m sure a simple phone call to the organizer will fix everything to our satisfaction.”
Sam puffed out his chest. “A, I control the money. B, I control the band. Therefore, C, I control you.”
Steve laughed. “We’re working on A. Remember that audit Max ordered? Well, don’t imagine that we’ve been silent about it because we were happy with what our very thorough accountant found.”
Sam’s face went from red to white.
“As for B, you might think you control the band, but if it weren’t for Max’s insistence that you were worth the headache, you’d have been out on your ass years ago. He’ll be pissed that he didn’t get to tell you himself, but he no longer thinks you’re worth the headache. He wants you gone as much as I do. The only thing keeping you here is that it’s taking Dare’s lawyers a bit longer than planned to file all the lawsuits and criminal charges against you.”
Sam took a step backward. “What?”
“And with your tabloid publishing pictures of my sexual assault, well . . .” Steve shrugged. “I guess we have a civil case as well, don’t we? It was very traumatizing for me—the victim—to see those pictures in print.”
Sam’s mouth opened and shut several times, but for once in his hot-winded existence, he couldn’t seem to find a single word to utter.
“As for C,” Steve said, “you never controlled me. Max kept me under control as best he could, but if I didn’t love and respect the hell out of him and our music, I’d have hit the road years ago. This band isn’t about you. Baroquen isn’t about you either. So go fuck yourself, Sam. We’ll survive without you.”
“God, why won’t you quit?” Sam threw both hands in the air. “I’ve tried everything I can to make you leave, and you just keep coming back for more.”
So Steve hadn’t been imagining things—Sam did have it out for him. “Why would I leave? I belong with the band. You’re the one who’s leaving.”
“You’ve just ruined your girlfriend’s career,” Sam said. “I’ll make sure she and her sisters never get a leg up in this business—”
“Are you threatening us?” Iona said from behind him.
Sam spun around. “Iona!” he said, his sharkiest smile splitting his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to congratulate my little sister on her engagement.”
“We all did,” Raven said from the group of congregated women.
Actually, the crowd spreading down the hall in either direction was more mixed than Steve had first noticed.
When had his bandmates arrived? How much had they overheard? How pissed were they that Steve had taken it upon himself to confront Sam openly and without a lawyer present? He cautiously met Max’s eyes, and Max did look angry, but he was sending his most ball-withering glare in Sam’s direction, not Steve’s. Dare looked resigned that yes, this had happened and now they’d have to work with what they had. Logan grinned and made a victory fist, which Reagan tapped playfully with her own.
“Oh,” Sam said, “is she engaged?” His voice was uncharacteristically squeaky. “Congratulations! Did you post that on Instagram too?”
“Not yet,” Roux said. “But if you think people were defensive of us before, try messing with us after they hear how Steve proposed.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s very sweet, I’m sure.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Iona interrupted. “Are you threatening us?”
“Don’t forget who owns your contract,” Sam said.
Dare crossed his arms and smiled crookedly. “That would be me.”
“Huh?” Sam blinked.
Actually, they were all blinking at Dare. How had he managed to gain ownership of Baroquen’s contract?
“Your business partners were quite interested in quietly selling their shares in your sinking ship. I got a very good deal.” Dare’s smile broadened. “On all of them.”
“Even if you bought every share available, I still own the majority,” Sam said, but his usual bluster had diminished to a mere breeze.
“True,” Dare said, “but once all of our various lawsuits are officially filed—”
“And won,” Max said with complete confidence.
“And won,” Dare said agreeably, “you’ll have to liquidate your assets, and who in their right mind would invest in an entertainment conglomerate reeking of scandal?”
“No one,” Logan said.
Max elbowed him and nodded at Dare.
Logan’s eyes widened. “Dare?”
“Keep up, Logan,” Max said.
“But why would he . . .” Logan shook his head.
“So all the entertainers who have contracts under this greedy motherfucker aren’t left footing his legal bills and losing everything,” Steve said, wishing Dare stood closer to him so he could hug him. “If you need additional finances, I’ve got some money burning a hole in my bank account.” Steve nodded, meaning every word.
“I might take you up on that,” Dare said. “It’s a lot of power for one man to hold.”
“And responsibility,” Max said. “I’m in too.”
“You guys aren’t leaving me out of this,” Logan said.
“I don’t have much, but I’ll risk everything I have,” Reagan said. “Down to the shirt off my back.”
“If you’re really interested in buying,” Sam said, “we could come up with a fair deal for my shares.”
Steve laughed. “Are you trying to bargain with us? Why would we do that? In case you haven’t been paying attention, we hold all the cards here.”
“It will put you in charge more quickly,” Sam said, “and I’ll quietly go away. You’ll never hear from me or my girlfriend again.”
Steve pressed his eyebrows together. “Girlfriend?” What woman would date the sleazeball?
“Tamara. My girlfriend.”
“Tamara!”
Sam snorted. “With all your digging around my business, you didn’t come across that little gem?”
“Did you know she staged those pictures of us together?” Steve asked. Because what boyfriend would put up with that kind of behavior?
Sam laughed and started backing away from Steve’s open door with renewed confidence. “You guys don’t have shit on me,” Sam said. “I should have known this was a ploy to make me nervous or, I don’t know, but—”
“You stole from us,” Max said, his hand wrapping into the fabric of Sam’s lapel. “Twenty-seven point eight million dollars. We have all the shit on you we’ll ever need. As for the libelous bull in Bianca’s tabloid? She’s going down too. And your sex-offending girlfriend? Steve is going to press charges against her as soon as possible.”
“I am?” Steve asked. He was still reeling over the knowledge that his two least favorite people in the world were a couple. Had that been why Bianca had been so smug when he’d met with her all those weeks ago? Because the man watching Tamara flirt with Steve wasn’t Pyre—as he’d suspected—but Sam? What the fuck? How had they gotten together? Why? When? He had so many questions. Like why did Sam find it humorous that his girlfriend had drugged and molested a man he loathed? Unless he’d put her up to it. Steve wouldn’t put that past him. Maybe he even gave her the key to Steve’s room so she could stage those disgusting pictures. Hell, he might have been holding the fucking camera. And maybe Bianca had posted those pictures online to get Sam and Tamara to break up, not to hurt Steve. But what did it matter? The three of them were all going down in flames, and their disastrous crash was so fun to watch.
“Yes, you are pressing charges,” Roux said quietly, her hand warm against Steve’s lower back.
“Yeah,” Steve said, standing straighter. He should press charges. He probably had the evidence he needed. He definitely had the support to get through the ordeal. “I guess you and your girlfriend can enjoy conjugal visits while you’re both in jail.”
Sam snorted, but he was craftily working his way from the center of the group toward open space farther down the hallway. “White collar criminals don’t go to jail.”
“So you admit you’re a criminal,” Reagan said. “I heard him. Did you all hear him?”
There was a general murmur of consensus.
“That’s not admissible in court,” Sam said. “God, musicians are morons. I don’t know how I put up with you types for all these years.”
“Guess you don’t have to put up with us anymore,” Max said. “As Steve said, you’re fired. We’ll see you in court.”
“If you can find me,” Sam said. He broke free of the crowd and hurried down the hallway. Butch stepped in front of him, looking angrier than Steve had ever seen him.
“Going somewhere?” Butch asked.
Two additional security guards stepped in to flank Butch. One of them—Reagan’s husband Ethan—looked particularly lethal with his biceps bulging above his crossed arms.
“You can’t legally detain me,” Sam said, stepping backward.
“I wasn’t planning on this being legal,” Butch said.
“Allow me,” Ethan said. “I still remember how to give Miranda rights.”
“We aren’t in the US,” Butch reminded him.
Ethan grinned. “True. Guess he doesn’t have any rights, then.”
He dropped Sam to the floor so quickly that a collective gasp filled the hall.
“You have the right to keep your lying, conniving mouth shut,” Ethan said, placing a knee in Sam’s back and whipping out a pair of handcuffs. They were lined with velvet and were obviously of the novelty variety, but that didn’t stop Ethan from clicking one bracelet closed over Sam’s wrist or from them being effective restraints. “You have the right to pay an attorney a lot of money to try to defend your sorry, undeserving ass.”
Steve liked this guy. He needed to hang out with him more often.
“If you can’t afford an attorney, you’re shit out of luck, asshole. No public defender is going to work very hard to help a swine like you.”
“You can’t do this,” Sam said. “You have no authority to—”
Ethan slammed a fist into the floor inches from Sam’s face. “I suggest you exercise that first right before you say something that makes me really mad.”
“He got fired from the force for beating the crap out of some perpetrator,” Reagan said helpfully.
“And that perpetrator didn’t make my wife’s life a living hell,” Ethan said, “so just imagine how much crap I could beat out of you.”
“Buckets of crap,” Logan said.
“Now, I’m not sure how we get you extradited back to the States, but someone at the US embassy will know.” Ethan stood and yanked Sam to his feet. “Are you going to ask your girlfriend to join us peacefully, or should I pretend she resisted my citizen’s arrest as well?”
“You can’t threaten us. Who do you think you are?”
“If this was an action movie, I’d come up with a sweet one-liner right now,” Ethan said with a smirk. He settled for shoving Sam toward the elevator.
“Justice,” Reagan said, following the security team down the hall. “That’s what you should have said, babe. You’re justice.”
“Your worst nightmare,” Max called out his suggestion.
“Your wettest dream!” Azura shouted, and then she lowered her voice to add, “Actually, he should say that to me. Rawr!”
“He’s married to my brother,” Dare pointed out.
“And to your sister-in-law,” Logan said.
“That has to be a total mindfuck,” Max said with a laugh.
Dare grinned. “Not really. If Trey’s happy . . .”
“. . . I’m happy,” half the group said in unison.
“Did you really buy out all of Sam’s partners?” Steve asked Dare.
Dare’s grin changed from sentimental to devious. “Nah. That was a total bluff. I knew it would make that weasel squirm, though.”
“I think we should consider doing it for real,” Steve said. “I thought maybe we’d get around to starting our own label, but if we can buy out our previous label, and all the contracts it currently holds, we could do great things for some truly talented people. As much as I despise Sam, he does have excellent taste in music.”
“Let’s give it some thought,” Max said. “We can have a meeting about it in a few days.”
Steve silently vowed not to push his opinions on Max in this situation. He’d learned from their experiences with Sam that if Max thought he was being pressured, he dug in his heels and didn’t give an inch, whether his stubbornness ultimately hurt him or not.
“I can’t believe Tamara is with that guy,” Roux said. “He must be twenty years older than she is.”
“More like thirty,” Max said. “But if you ask me, they’re well suited.”
“Not sure how my research team missed that piece of the puzzle,” Dare said, scratching his temple. “Guess we need to do some more digging.”
“Some people are good at hiding relationships,” Iona said.
She must be speaking of herself and Kyle, because Steve and Roux sucked at it.
“If no one else is going to say it,” Roux said, “I will. Ewwwwww. Just ew.” She visibly shuddered.
“I hope to God they didn’t procreate,” Raven said.
“Well, it’s been great seeing you all,” Steve said. He loved these people, but enough was enough. He turned and slowly backed Roux into the room. Zach was behind him watching the excitement in the hall, but with a quick turn, Steve had his third-and-normally-welcome wheel moved out into the corridor. “I have some celebrating to do.”
“We should go down to the bar,” Logan said. “You’ve been wanting to fire that guy for years. You must be flying high right now.”
“I am,” Steve said, “but that’s not what I want to celebrate.”
Roux waved her engagement ring at their friends. Her sisters squealed and rushed forward as if they’d just remembered why they’d showed up outside his and Roux’s hotel room door in the first place. They twittered excitedly, asking so many questions and offering so many repeated words of congratulations and advice that he could couldn’t make heads or tails out of what any of them were saying. He and Roux found themselves squished together in the center of a rather painful group hug, accompanied by happy tears and contagious excitement. When all the guys formed an outer ring to their tight huddle, Steve had to brace himself to prevent Roux from being completely squashed, but she was laughing so hard, he doubted she minded their enthusiasm.
“Is this what we call a blended family?” he asked close to her ear.
“Yours, mine, and ours,” she said breathlessly.
The bright smile on her face added to the sparkle in those remarkable green-gold eyes and made his heart overflow with all the love he had to give.
“Ours,” he repeated. He liked the sound of that.
When he kissed her, everything around them, including the enthusiastic catcalls of their friends, faded into the background until there was nothing in his world but his sweet Red.