Lucky Girl (Dear Rockstar #2)

Lucky Girl (Dear Rockstar #2) Page 7

So we’d stayed engaged and postponed the actual marriage. I told him I could wait forever for him, which was true. He said he didn’t want to wait but he left it up to me. And here we were, waiting.

Besides, it would have been impossible to plan a wedding. At first, I was studying at New York Studio School and Dale and Black Diamond were recording their first album. Even after I’d graduated from the Studio School’s one-year program and got a job, I didn’t make a lot of money—thankfully John was so sweet and generous, he said we could live there forever, although I still liked to contribute—and Dale was now preparing with Black Diamond to go out on their first road tour as the opening act for Dark Wing. I knew we’d get married eventually. I just didn’t know when.

Dale handed me a champagne flute and I sipped it, the bubbles tickling my nose as I looked around the room. A glorious stay, indeed. There was a living area with a couch and television, all of it richly furnished. There was a small kitchenette too. To the right there was a bedroom with a huge mahogany canopy bed, if I remembered correctly.

“A girl could get used to this.” I smiled at him over my glass.

“I hope so.” He put down his glass, holding his hand out to me. I gave it to him and he pulled me to standing, gathering me in his arms. “I want to spoil you. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted in your whole life. I want to give you so much, you won’t even be able to answer when someone asks you what you want because you’ll already have it all.”

“Oh Dale.” I lifted my face to meet his eyes, feeling tears stinging mine and I blinked them back. “I already have everything I want. Everything I could ever want. I have you.”

“You’re my best thing too,” he breathed, leaning down to kiss me. It was like putting the key in and starting the engine to a soft purring muscle car. I felt a low rumble and that sweet anticipation before the car moves into gear. That gentle hum of just beginning, before the race even started, was the sweetest moment in the world.

“Take me to bed,” I murmured.

“Hang on.” Dale grabbed me around the waist, lifting me, and I clasped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, as he carried me into the other room. I glanced at the bed in the dimness, expecting him to put me on it, but instead he paused just inside the door, reaching for the light switch.

The giant king-sized mahogany bed had a beautifully draped, cream colored canopy. The coverlet matched, a shiny satin or silk covering soft down. Dale let me slowly down and I squinted at the bed, not quite sure of what I was seeing. There was something on the bed, all over the bed—and it was red. My first crazy thought was blood! But no. That was silly, Of course it was rose petals. Red rose petals all over the bed.

I glanced at Dale, smiling, bemused.

“Go look.”

I took a step closer, then another, realizing they weren’t rose petals after all.

“There’s a stool at the side of the bed,” he said from the doorway.

I looked back at him leaning against it, my heart skipping at the delicious sight, shirt now unbuttoned and untucked, dress pants drawn low with his hands in his pockets, his belt, that studded belt, so damned sexy.

“Stand on it and look down.”

“What?” I wrinkled my nose, confused, but I did what he asked, getting up onto the wooden stool and looking down at what I had first thought might be blood or rose petals, but were neither.

They were Skittles. Just the red ones. And they spelled out:

Sara Will You Marry Me?

I couldn’t hold back the tears then, remembering the first time I met Dale, when he’d sauntered into my chemistry class, larger than life. He could have sat anywhere, but he’d picked me. I was so embarrassed when my stomach started to growl in front of the cute new guy. I wanted to disappear. But he heard it—I think the whole class heard it—and instead of making fun of me, he’d offered me some of his Skittles.

Looking down at the bed, I could see him in my memory, that dark mop of hair that always fell over one eye, wearing all black, including his combat boots, and that sexy, studded belt. Had I fallen instantly in love? Maybe I had, but if I had, it sure took me long enough to realize it. But I think Dale knew then. I don’t know how it could be possible, but when he picked me to sit with that day, he really picked me.

“Do you remember?” Dale’s voice, closer.

I nodded, not trusting my voice, not turning around. How could I forget? We’d gotten in so much trouble that day for writing back and forth on Mr. Woodall’s desk. He made us stay and clean them. It was all Dale’s fault and he knew it. We didn’t have much time left in class when Mr. Woodall caught us, but in that brief time, Dale had reached into his Skittles bag, lining up all the red ones and then making a peace offering.

A red heart made out of Skittles.

“Sara?”

I sniffed, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hands, seeing them smeared with mascara, ready to tell him, of course I didn’t forget, how could I possibly forget? Every minute I’d ever spent with or even without him since the day he walked into my life had been about him. I lived and breathed Dale Diamond and would until the day I died.

I stepped off the stool and turned around to find him down on one knee holding a little blue box.

“Oh my God.” I really thought I might faint. I met his eyes, confused. “But… you already…”

I looked down at my left hand where I wore the ring he’d given me the day Black Diamond won MTV’s Battle of the Bands. He’d proposed on one knee, in front of a stadium full of people, giving me this engagement ring. But at the time, Dale didn’t have much money. He’d begged and borrowed to pay for our first night at the Waldorf Astoria, but I didn’t want to ask what he’d had to do to buy my engagement ring. It was a small solitaire—just a quarter carat—but I loved it because it was from Dale.

“I wanted you to have something real.” He held up the blue box and it dawned on me where it was from. I had overheard Aimee and some of her friends—the popular kids, the ones whose parents had a lot of money—talking once about married girls who would only give their husbands blowjobs as a trade-off for “blue box” jewelry.

The blue box was from Tiffany’s.

I put my palms to my cheeks to cool them as he opened the box, letting me see what was inside. The ring on my finger was nothing compared to the one Dale held. The diamond was huge. I blinked at him in shock, unable to even breathe, let alone speak.

“Will you?” he asked, looking up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. He was really asking. Like he thought it was a real question, as if I could have any other answer but…

“Yes!” I cried, laughing through my tears, holding my arms out to him. He had me in them in one motion, hugging me close. “Did you really think I would say no?”

“I don’t know.” He breathed me in, his chest expanding against my cheek. “It’s been a rough two years. I was gone so much and you…”

He pulled back, cocking his head and looking into my eyes.

“I was afraid you might not want to marry a rock star after all.” His smile was small, tight. “I thought maybe you’d decided the fantasy was better than reality.”

“No.” I touched his lips with my fingertips, hushing his words. “Never. What in the world made you think that? You are my fantasy and my reality. I don’t want anyone or anything but you. You don’t need to give me everything. You are my everything.”

“So you want me to return the ring?” He smirked, moving to put it in his pocket.

“No!” I laughed, reaching for the box. “Let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

“Give me your hand.” Dale held the box up, taking the ring out with his other hand.

I looked down at the engagement ring I’d been wearing for two years. It seemed as if I’d been waiting forever for my life to really start. First it was finally graduating high school. Then Aimee was planning a wedding and I was at the New York Studio School and Dale had marching orders from his new record company—he had to go whenever and wherever they said. I hated it—but I knew, he hated it even more. Dale wasn’t used to being bossed around.

And all the while, he had to keep me a secret.

“It’s almost ours.” Dale kissed my finger, pressing his lips to the first ring he’d given me. “If we can hold on just a little longer, it will all be ours.”

“What will be ours?” I watched as he slid that ring off, slowly sliding the other one on.

“Everything.” Then he kissed that ring too. It was surprisingly heavy.

“I told you, I don’t want everything.” I held my hand out for the other ring and he gave it to me. I slipped it onto the ring finger of my right hand. “I just want you.”

“Here?” He grinned, standing up and tossing the now empty Tiffany ring box aside, a wide grin spreading over his face. “Now?”

“Dale!” I warned, taking a step back, but I was too late. He pounced, pinning me to the bed. The weight of our bodies made the down under the coverlet rise up and Skittles flew everywhere. I heard them plinking on the night table beside us, saw some fly past the lamp, and felt more of them under my back.

“The Skittles!” I lamented.”You forgot about the Skittles.”

“I didn’t forget.” Dale grinned. “Some day I’ll be on tour and I’ll send a list to the hotel of all the things I want. Skittles will be on the list—but just the red ones.”

“You’d make some poor lackey separate out the red ones for you?”

“That’s what rock stars are supposed to do.” He picked up one of the Skittles on the mattress, popping it into his mouth and chewing. He pressed one to my lips and I accepted it, chewing thoughtfully.

“You’re gonna regret this when you’re on your way to the bathroom and you step on a bunch of Skittles.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“I regret nothing.” He leaned over and kissed me softly. “Now, let’s get you out of this dress. Roll over.”

I laughed but complied, rolling over onto my belly. There were Skittles right there in front of me so I licked a few of them, letting them stick to my tongue so I could draw them into my mouth while Dale unzipped me. He pulled the fabric off my shoulders as I wiggled my way out of the satin like a very unsexy inchworm.

“Okay, now these things.” Dale frowned, plucking at the stretchy nylon of my pantyhose. “Weird. They’re like something out of a science fiction movie, I swear.”

I giggled. “They’re ruined anyway. Look at the feet.”

“What were you doing, walking on hot coals?” he exclaimed.

“Running from rabid fans, remember?” I reached down, hooking a finger in one of the gaping holes and pulling. The material ripped and Dale’s eyes lit up.

“My turn.” He grabbed the nylon in two hands and pulled. It ripped all the way up to my inner thigh. “Wow! Nice!”