CHAPTER 70

"What do you mean he's not coming?" I ask in the car on the way back from running errands after my dress appointment. "We've been confirmed for a month!"

"Mr. King is sincerely apologetic," comes the crisp British voice over the line. "I assure you he's made multiple attempts to reconcile his schedule, but running a conglomerate of companies leaves little time for personal commitments."

Disappointment overwhelms me as I scroll through the email correspondence, most signed by an executive assistant at Echo Entertainment on behalf of the CEO. I've been trying to get Harrison King, one of Timothy's friends from touring, to the wedding without him knowing.

I know how hard it is to get on the schedule of a man running a multinational conglomerate, but I figured we'd navigated all the hurdles already.

Now it might be over before it's begun.

When I arrive at the house, the garage door's open. The motorcycle sits out front, and my body twitches the second I see it.

We still haven't been on it. I want to get on the back with Timothy and disappear. But we can't. At least not yet.

Dad and Haley are talking in the kitchen, getting Mason to eat some kind of solids by the sounds of it.

I follow the sound of music upstairs. I peer in the first of the guest bedrooms.

The first thing I notice are the organized piles of merch.

Next, I see my fiancé, patiently holding the strings on his guitar while Sophia picks with an awkward enthusiasm that melts my heart.

The piles dwarf him.

Haley's words come back to me, and compassion and love for the boy who changed my world, the man who owns my heart.

I pick up a Sharpie. "Can I get an autograph?"

Timothy looks up, his eyes brightening when he spots me. "Play your cards right."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I meant her," I say, gesturing toward Sophia.

My little sister giggles in delight, abandoning the instrument to fill the Post-it I hold out with a careful scrawl.

"Do you want a selfie?" she asks solemnly.

"Um. Sure. But I left my phone downstairs."

"I'll get it!" Sophia bounds toward the door and down the hall, and I turn back to Timothy with a grin.

"You have to sign all this?"

"Was supposed to be before we leave for the wedding. My hand cramped up an hour ago."

I survey the room. "I'm tempted to pack half of it up and send it back to Zeke with a note saying, 'Sign it your damn self.'"

"Yeah, but I remember the first concert I got into as a kid. It took months of fixing bikes to earn the money, and I had to hitchhike to get there. A lot of this is for charity, and some of it's for fans who work like I worked to see that first concert. I'm one of the lucky ones, Emily. Anything I can do to give back I'm going to."

My heart kicks in my chest. "You're the best guy, Timothy Adams."

"Maybe not the best. I would like to see you take on Zeke for me. You're sexy when you're pissed."

"Just not when I'm pissed at you."

"You're sexy then too." He winks as he straightens and sets the guitar back on its stand. "You get everything done that you needed to? Remember, I'm supposed to do the anthem at the Lakers game tonight. We have a box so we can bring your dad and Haley and the kids, and Jacob and Rica said they'd show."

"Absolutely. It'll be fun. Go team." I pull my imaginary pompoms into my chest before planting a hand on my hip. "Would I make a good Laker girl?"

He crosses to me, eyes darkening. "Fuck that. You're my girl." He drops his lips to my neck. "And you need to take off that skirt."

Electricity jolts through me at the heat in his voice. "Sophie will be back any second. Besides, I thought we had to go to the game?"

"We do. And to get there, I need you to change."

When we arrive and Timothy cuts the engine outside the VIP entrance, I laugh, exhilarated.

"I was eyeing this on the way in earlier," I say, pulling off my helmet.

He does the same, hooking his helmet to the back of the bike and taking mine. "I've been wanting a chance to take you out on it too. It's unbelievable."

I feather my hands through his hair from behind. "One complaint. How come my hair's plastered to my head and you just look sexier?"

"It's my curse."

Before I can swing my leg off the bike, he reaches back and grabs me. Timothy shifts me around so I'm in front of him, straddling him. I'm breathless. My legs wrap around his waist as a bead of sweat runs down my back under the leather jacket.

I grin as his lips descend to claim mine.

We're in the middle of a secured back parking lot, the loading docks surrounded by eighteen-wheel trucks and buses, the smell of fumes and asphalt in the air. None of it matters when Timothy's hands dig into my ass. He rocks my hips against his, matching the slow pace of his lips and tongue, content to do slow and maximum damage to my defenses.

"Mr. Adams!"

We turn to see a staff member in black waving from a nearby door.

The second Timothy pulls back, I want to close the distance between us again. His expression says he wants that too.

I shift off the bike, and he takes my hand as we head toward the door. "I'm so ready to get to this island," he says. "Let's skip the wedding and get right to the honeymoon. Leave a note and some food for our friends. They can split the cake however they want."

I pull up, forcing him to turn back, his head cocked in mock expectancy.

"Hell. No."

He musses my hair and has me ducking away, laughing under the watchful eye of the staff person who greets us at the door. We head inside, escorted through the back hallways of the Staples Center, and I broach a topic that's been plaguing me all day.

"I was thinking how good it'll be to have our friends in one place. Most of them, anyway. It's too bad Harrison King couldn't make it. Is there a reason you didn't invite him to the wedding?" I ask under my breath as we head through the building.

"I didn't think he'd be able to come. He's been in a dark place. But it would've been good to see him." Timothy's face goes serious. "He saved my life."

Surprise grips me. "Please tell me you're being poetic. You never told me you were in danger on tour."

Timothy brushes a thumb over my lips. "I'll tell you about it someday."

I exhale a shivering breath. "So, you're what, blood brothers?"

"Pretty much."

I think he's joking, but still... I didn't realize it went so deep.

Security takes Timothy to get ready and shows me a different way to the booth. Through the open doorway, I hear Jacob's laughter and see Sophia's head bobbing as she dances in the middle of the floor.

I thank my escort and linger in the hall, pulling out my phone. "I apologize for calling so late, but it's urgent."

The same man I spoke to earlier sighs.

"My fiancé wants his friend at the wedding, and if I have to fly to London and pack Harrison's bags myself? I will do it."