“What are you doing? I just packed those,” I laughed as he removed my underwear.
“You don’t need them. Commando is so much better.” He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked up innocently at me.
I laughed, putting them back in. “I’m not spending Christmas with your family without wearing underwear. If I get a boner like I usually do around you, they’ll see everything. I want them to like me, not think I’m some kind of sex monster.”
Michael smirked. “I think that fact that my mother is making all your favorite foods means she likes you already, Rockstar.”
I snorted. “She only knows the rocker. We’ll wait and see how she feels when she gets to know therealme. And as far as Christmas goes, I don’t care where I am as long as I’m with you.”
Michael smiled softly up at me as the mood changed from playful to serious, then he reached out for my hand. “I want that, too. I’ll stay by your side the whole time, baby.”
His words filled the empty spaces in my heart and mind. He was everything I ever wanted, and I was trying to believe we would make it when I was on tour.
We’d had Christmas early with our friends, and Cole and Patrick were going to Seattle for a few days. Things between them had gotten a little better, and the Pirates had a game the day after Christmas. We’d be watching on television, and would be back for New Year’s Eve.
When Michael went to return a call from Jesse, I tucked the special gift I’d gotten him for Christmas in my bag. Even though he stayed here most nights, he hadn’t officially moved in. While we’d joked about roommate applications, we hadn’t talked about it seriously. I wanted him to live here, but I hadn’t pushed when he didn’t take the hint with my flat-out description of him as my ideal roommate. I got the feeling he wanted to live here, but something had kept us from taking the plunge. I’d feel more secure about us if I knew he was living here while I was on the road. It would feel like we were official and the thought of having someone waiting for me to come home… there were no words to describe how much I wanted that with him.
So I’d jokingly drawn up a fake lease agreement without an end date. Hopefully, it would be for life.
And what better place to ask him than on the beach in Southern California?
Michael strode back in as I zipped up my suitcase. “Ready to go? Dreamboat will be here in twenty minutes.”
The deep cadence of his voice combined with the melting gaze he gave me made my heart beat a little faster.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, looking around for nothing in particular. I just had to stop looking at him before he had me all boned up again. “Do you have all the gifts packed?”
“Yep,” he said, reaching for my bag. “You act like you don’t know me, Rockstar. It’s all sitting by the door.”
I grinned, meeting his green eyes. “Then take me away to California, my good man.”
Michael snort-chuckled behind me, and it was a sound I wanted to hear for the rest of my life.
* * *
“It’s goingto be okay, baby. I swear they don’t bite.”
Michael’s normally soothing tone failed to work its magic and be the balm to my nerves. I’d never met a boyfriend’s parents before, much less spent the biggest family holiday of the year with them.
I looked over at him from the front seat of our rental car. “But thisisa big deal. I’ve never…” I trailed off, wiping my hand on my pants, and trying to remind myself how to breathe.
As usual, he tried to soothe me. “I promise it will be okay. Just don’t fart or burp loudly around them. Or pick your nose. And try not to cuss. They hate that. If my mom gives you this look,” he scrunched his face up in some expression that ended up looking like theJokerfromBatman, “you’ll know she doesn’t like you. Other than that, you’re golden. Oh, and make sure to eat all your vegetables. My mother has a thing about vegetables.”
He patted my leg and got out of the car. When he saw I hadn’t gotten out, he laughed and walked around to my door. I pressed the door locks before he could open it.
Laughing, he pressed the remote to unlock the doors, only to have me press it locked again. We had a press-off until his parents came out the front door and descended the steps.
Charlotte Coleman was in her early 50s with dark hair like Michael’s. His dad, Jack, was every bit of six-foot-four with graying dark brown hair. Michael resembled him, which meant he was hot.
“Michael, what on earth are you doing to poor Adam?” she chided.
“Nothing, Mom. He won’t get out of the damn car.” His tone was laced with humor.
She huffed and propped her hands on her hips, then made her way around him, smacking him on the butt, to where I sat behind the glass. Leaning down to look at me, I took in the warm hazel eyes that were just like my boyfriend’s. The smirk on her face when she winked at me settled me instantly.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’m sure whatever bullshit story he’s told you about us is just that—bullshit. I have your favorite lasagna in the oven for dinner, so you unlock that door and give me a hug. And maybe an autograph I can sell oneBay.”
I grinned as she winked again. That’s when I knew I’d give Charlotte Coleman anything she wanted.
