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“I know. But he’s not getting any younger.”
“Neither are we,” I joke.
She doesn’t laugh. “I just wish I’d known about him years ago. I really hate my mom for keeping my family from me all these years.”
I wince. I know how it feels to hate your parents. “Have you spoken to your mom since you arrived in Winter Falls?”
“Nah. She’s probably on a bender.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I guess we both have shitty parents.”
Unlike her mom, though, my parents are constantly trying to get in touch with me. I block them, they get another phone number and call me again, and then I block them again. I can’t understand what they’re thinking.
Why the hell would I want to speak to the people who claimed all the music for Cash & the Sinners was written by them and stolen by me? Who claimed they have a right to my money since they paid for my guitar lessons when I was young?
I bought them a house and a car. Made some investments for them. But nothing is good enough. They want it all. Both of them have quit working and live off the investments I made for them but it’s not enough. It will never be enough.
“Will you come inside? I don’t want to be alone.”
The admission costs her. Mercy hates being vulnerable.
“Of course, you don’t need to ask.”
She nibbles her bottom lip. “What if I’m asking you inside to comfort me?”
I gulp while my cock twitches. It doesn’t care how vulnerable Mercy is. It remembers how good it felt to be buried inside her and wants to do it again.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“What if I want to take advantage of you?” She winks.
“Don’t joke, Mercy.”
“Why not? Are you afraid?” She bats her eyelashes.
“I’m afraid you’ll regret us having sex in the morning. I don’t want to be a regret.”
Do I want to be in Mercy’s bed? Hell, yeah. But I want to be there because she can’t resist me, can’t wait for the pleasure I can give her. Not because she’s upset about her uncle and needs to forget for a while.
“I won’t regret it.”
“You said no sex.”
“I said no sex yet. Yet is over.”
“It’s only been a few days.”
“Okay. I’m just going to say it. This conversation is on the top of the list of conversations I never thought I’d have with Gibson Lewis, guitar player for Cash & the Sinners.”
She’s joking but her words hurt. “I know I haven’t always been a gentleman in the past. I’ve been happy to enjoy the benefits of my fame. But I’m not that man anymore. Not when it comes to you.”
Her eyes are full of doubt, so I continue. “I had plenty of opportunity to have sex with fans today. They whipped off their shirts and bras for me.” She gasps and I hold up a hand to pre-empt her reply. “I didn’t ask them to and I didn’t touch any of them. Except to give them autographs. My point is I wasn’t the least bit tempted. I am not the same man as I was before we met.”
I didn’t believe in love before we met. Not since my ‘loving’ parents sued me when I refused to pay for their membership at the country club.
But now? Mercy’s shown me true love does exist. The way she loves her uncle is a good example.
