ROMANCE: MENAGE ROMANCE: Tapped and Taken by Two (Pregnancy Sports MMA UFC Fighter Romance) (Alpha Male Romance) (39 page)

His phone buzzed when she landed in Washington, DC, her first stop. A friendly little note letting him know she’d arrived. It warmed his heart, but he didn’t respond right away. It had only been one night. And morning. She had to be confused, just doing what she was used to doing when he was her lead bodyguard. Lucas texted Kevin though to make sure everything was good and everyone knew how to do their jobs right. It happened all the time, when a client brushed up against danger. It was only logical to want to affirm life, and that usually meant screwing. At least he had heard about it happening before. He shouldn’t have done it though, shouldn’t have instigated it.

He mulled it over as he drove back from the airport, heading back to the guest house to pick up a few things before he moved back in to the apartment on the other side of town. With the Kyle Reed situation out of the way for the time being he probably wouldn’t be back anytime soon. It would be nice to be back in his own place a while.

He keyed in the code at the gate of Bristol’s mansion, and rolled inside. The grounds felt deserted, which made sense. Staff would be coming by later to close the place up, Bristol thought Ricky would be back a few times to pick up some stuff, and other than that, someone would be by a few times a week from now on to water the plants. Two months on tour didn’t seem like that long of a time until you were experiencing the first day of that stretch of time.

His sheets still smelled like her, and the scent intoxicated him. He decided to stop feeling guilty about it. It happened. If it cost him the job, so be it, it was worth it. He couldn’t think of it as anything more than that. Couldn’t see himself getting close to someone, couldn’t see himself being a boyfriend. That was the road to heartache, and he wouldn’t do it again. When it came to Bristol, he was very clearly the rebound, and the rebound was only good for one thing. Getting your mind off the ex.

When he got back to his apartment, it was quite and clean and the air smelled like stale bleach. He wished his next gig was starting this evening, instead of tomorrow evening. He plunked down on the couch and turned on the TV.
Die Hard
was on, and they were just about at his favorite part, where things start getting crazy and the body count starts rising.

He shut his brain off and watched the rest of the movie, but could feel his mood tanking as the credits started to roll and he realized a dark grey light was pushing through the blinds. It was probably almost eight and night was taking over. He headed down to a small bar he sometimes went to as the street lights started to come on, something he hadn’t done in a long time. He never drank while he was working, and he worked all the time. He also knew that when he got drunk, he usually wanted to fight. He wasn’t always like that, but ever since his time overseas he could feel everyone in the room starting to tick him off more and more with every sip. It’d been months since he got into a scrap, tackling Kyle Reed and the tussle with the guy harassing Bristol was the closest he’d come for a while.

He reined himself in. He’d go, have a few beers, the Kings were playing the Flyers tonight, so he could watch that on the big screen. He loved hockey even though there weren’t a lot of people who he hung out with that knew much about it. Any team sport that allowed athletes to fight and let out all their aggression in the game itself was good by Lucas. Plus, his dad, even though he was a real asshole, raised him to be a Philadelphia Flyers fan: the only thing Lucas hoped he learned from his father. 

He took a seat at the bar, ordered a Miller Lite, then another, then another, and enjoyed not having to be “on.” He should really have ordered some food, but the beer right now was tasting too good. Also, with a bit of a buzz Lucas finally felt he could fully let go. Nothing that happened in the room was his responsibility, unlike when he was on duty watching Bristol. He had to watch every patron, keep himself on top of every situation that might happen. He still kept an eye on things, the Marine Corps taught him that and he could never shut that off, but tonight he didn’t watch with a sense of urgency. The big TV showed
Entertainment Tonight
, on before the hockey game.

The volume off, Bristol filled the screen, onstage and singing. She wore black sequins: she loved to sparkle under the lights when she was onstage. The outfit had an open back and stomach, and showed off her cleavage. Lucas had hear her refer to her breasts as small before. He couldn’t understand why. To him, they were just as perfect as the rest of her.

He’d seen all of her. He’d had her. He could be the envy of every man in this bar.

He watched. Looked like they were promoting her new tour. Stock footage of her and Ricky on their way in to a charity dinner, Lucas standing behind them, observing. He could look like a mean son of a bitch. In this one Bristol wore a short, tight white dress to match Ricky’s suit. Flats, because her ex was a puny little guy.

“Bristol sucks.” Lucas zoomed in on the sound, from across the bar. Some frat boy bro talking to his friends. Lucas started following the conversation now.

“I don’t know, she’s pretty hot.”

“Getting old. Needs to have some work done.”

“I’d do her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I wouldn’t do her. I’d just do her from behind.”

Lucas saw red and crossed the bar, slamming his fist on the table. Being private security was all about talking people down, about de-escalating before it came to violence.

Today he wasn’t on duty.

“Thought I heard something about Bristol Maitland from over at the bar?”

“What the fuck” the frat boy who shouted out the first comment said.

“You don’t talk about her like that.” Lucas said, stepping a little closer to him.

The guy laughed. “It’s Bristol’s biggest fan!” His friends looked a little worried though.

As they should, because the next thing that happened was Lucas’s fist meeting frat bro’s jaw. It turned into a full on brawl, the two friends piling on Lucas. They didn’t have training, but when the first frat boy wobbled to his feet there were three of them. He held his own, for a while, but then someone waded in to break it up just as the first frat boy dropped Lucas to the ground with a pool cue to the knee. The other two of his opponents got two good punches in his gut before someone dragged him away and a few others stepped in front of the other guys.

Without a word Lucas brushed himself off, paid his tab with a hell of a tip, and limped home.

When he got home he looked in the mirror and saw that those last two punches had given him a black eye and a bit of a bloody nose. He opened up the medicine cabinet and immediately thought about what Bristol was doing right now. Given the time of night she was probably just about to go on stage, and Lucas could hardly stand not being there to protect her.

*              *              *

D.C. to Boston to four days and two shows in New York. Philadelphia, Virginia Beach, Charlotte. Three days in Atlanta, then Orlando, Tampa, a week in Miami. Bristol was busy with rehearsing, travelling, talking with her lawyer. The stress made her miss her period a month into the tour.

She considered sleeping with someone else while she was on tour. Touring was always a whirlwind of parties, and she had always experienced it as someone in a relationship. Now she was single and on top of the world. Her lighting designer was fit and hot, she’d known him for years, and he’d broken up with his longtime girlfriend this summer. One night, she almost invited him back to her bus, but then she thought of Lucas, and suddenly the thought of her lighting designer didn’t seem as appealing. She had the same battery operated pleasure she’d been using for years instead of Ricky, though these days she couldn’t help but mostly fantasize about Lucas and his dragon tattoos.
One night
, she reminded herself, but what was the harm in thinking of him as she pleasured herself in her hotel room? Nothing.

Miami marked six weeks on tour, only two more before she flew back to LA, back to her house which would feel empty without Ricky, though not in a bad way. She’d had a late night and even though it was almost eleven in the morning, she still lay in bed that morning. Heartburn and nausea…the night before hadn’t been
that
rough. She couldn’t figure why she felt so sick. She’d been so tired the past few weeks, she’d even forgone her swim last night in the hotel pool. So much for the wild tour parties as a single woman. She called for room service, thinking food might help, but the scent of the eggs, bacon, and toast sent her reeling to the bathroom. Ugh. Food poisoning? She hoped she didn’t need to cancel her show. She’d never done it before, and didn’t want to let her fans down.

By mid afternoon she was feeling better, and that night, she played to a sold out arena by the beach. She went to bed early, for her, a little after midnight. She wasn’t feeling sick, but she had no energy left by the time she got to her dressing room.

The next morning she woke up sick again, but this time she was on the bus, so her assistant Kelly heard her.

The morning after went the same way as they headed toward the next city in the tour bus.

It took Kelly to put two and two together. While Bristol was dressing for the night’s show, donning her first costume (a floor length gown in red sequins, low cut and with lots of boob padding) the girl came in.

“Bris, I have to ask you. Are you pregnant?”

Bristol laughed. “No way.”

“Just checking. Have you seen a doctor, then? I’m worried about you with the throwing up.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine right after. Probably nerves about the divorce.” The press picked up on her not wearing her ring, and she’d been forced to make a statement, talking about how she and Ricky still cared very much for each other, and were both devastated they hadn’t been able to make the marriage work. In tandem with this were tabloid photos of Ricky and Samantha, all over the city of LA. Making out at a baseball game. Making out at night clubs. Making out in a fancy restaurant; Bristol needed to cut off the credit cards Ricky still had access to.

Kelly’s question stuck a burr in Bristol’s mind, though.
Was
she pregnant? The condom
did
break. But she and Ricky tried for years, with Bristol timing her cycles and trying the positions they said would get her pregnant. She cut out alcohol, tried prenatal vitamins, eased up on her workouts. Nothing. Ricky wasn’t heartbroken at her inability to conceive, but she certainly was. Bristol couldn’t be too sad though, the energy she wanted to put into being a mom she put into writing music and resurrecting her career.

Bristol felt like an idiot.

She needed a pregnancy test. She needed a doctor. She tried to keep stock of all the drinks she’d had over the past six weeks. Not a lot compared to most of the other performers on tour with her, but you weren’t supposed to drink anything when you were a mama.

After the show, she put on dark glasses, tucked a scarf over her red hair, and snuck out to a CVS, where she bought two pregnancy tests. The clerk gave her a weird look, but didn’t say anything as she paid with cash.

Back in the bus, locked in the bathroom, she peed on both sticks.

Both gave her the same answer.

Congratulations, Mama.

*              *              *

She picked up the phone to call Lucas. Decided to text him instead. Got as far as
hey you
, then decided she should sleep on it. Accidentally though she pressed send.

His text back was almost immediate.
Hi what’s up
?

Bristol was a bundle of nerves. She wasn’t ready to talk about this with Lucas; she could barely comprehend it herself.

Had a really good show tonight. Tired but looking forward to getting home again.

Ya I bet, everything okay with you?

Ya, I honestly couldn’t be happier. When I get back I need to you lend me a few new books though.

Sound great

It was true, she thought as she put her phone away. She was really happy. And not just because of the good show. She touched her stomach. She’d wanted a baby so badly in her twenties, but in recent years decided it was something of a blessing she and Ricky hadn’t conceived. She was in a pretty good spot. She had resurrected her career and done more than anyone expected her to. Now she could be a single mama. She had the money, that was for sure. She hoped for a little girl.

Goodnight,
she texted Lucas before rolling over and going to sleep in her bed on the tour bus.

5

Bristol’s flight came in at 2:25. Lucas checked his watch a hundred times, got to LAX at one, and spent an hour and a half pacing the airport on the boring side of security. Flight was on time, no delays. She flew first class, so she’d be one of the first passengers off. He’d driven himself instead of using her driver. Even though it had just been the one night, he was excited to see her. He’d thought about her a lot over the past two months, and found he missed her. Nothing would happen, though. He’d see her, they’d talk books, and he’d leave her be until she needed him to work as a bodyguard again. Given the situation though he wouldn’t be surprised if she requested that his company assign someone else to the detail.

While Kevin was off with Bristol, Lucas had been guarding Maxine, a seventeen year old one hit wonder who wanted to screw, snort, drink, or smoke everything she set her eyes on. It was his job to keep her safe, but not from herself. He’d seen more in the last month than he’d seen in years, certainly nothing like this ever happened with Bristol. Made him realize how lucky he had it, employment-wise. It was a fine line he walked with Maxine, making sure the guy pawing her at any given time was someone she wanted. He’d had to throw off a kid who was on top of her, wouldn’t leave her alone. He was longing to get back to nice boring routine of psychotic stalkers with Bristol.