Rock with Me (With Me in Seattle, #4)(78)



“Hey, handsome!” Cher leaps from her chair next to Lori and launches herself at DJ. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks.” He grins at her and kisses her hard. The rest of us plop down in chairs around the room and grin at Lori.

“So, how much longer do we have to wait?” Eric asks.

“Well, my labor stopped,” Lori responds with a sigh.

“What?” Gary frowns. “How is that possible?”

“Oh, it’s possible. Trust me.” She shakes her head and sighs. “They won’t let me go home because my water broke, and they don’t want to risk infection, so here I am.”

“Can’t they make it start up again?” I ask with a frown. “I’ll make a call.”

“Even your contacts can’t make the baby come faster than it wants to.” Lori laughs at me. “If the labor doesn’t start again by tomorrow morning, they’ll induce me, but we could be looking at days, I guess. I’m not really sure.”

“Jesus,” I whisper and swallow. What the f*ck am I going to do for a couple days in L.A., besides go crazy from wanting Sam? And then it occurs to me. I grin and pull my phone out of my pocket, find the number I want and dial.

“What’s he doing?” Cher asks.

“Hey, Kat, this is Nash.” I grin. “I’m in town and need a favor.”

“He’s doing what Leo always does when he’s bored,” DJ answers and kisses her cheek. “He’s gonna get another tat.”

“We should all go and let you guys sleep,” Eric mutters as I end my call.

“Thanks, man.” Gary hugs me and slaps my shoulder. “I owe you.”

“Fuck that.” I frown at him like he’s nuts. “This is what we do.”

“Thanks for getting him to me so quickly.” Lori’s eyes have tears in them. “I can’t do this without you guys.”

“You’re gonna be fine, pretty face.” I kiss her cheek and follow the guys out of the room.





Chapter Twenty-Three


Samantha



“It could be days?” I ask incredulously and sit up in my bed, scoot back to lean on the headboard, and raise my knees up to my chest, my phone pressed to my ear.

“That’s what she said, but I hope she’s wrong.” Leo sighs. I love his voice.

“Poor woman, I hope she’s wrong too, for her sake.” He chuckles in my ear and I smile. “What are you doing now?”

“I just got to the house a little while ago. I’m unpacking.” His voice sounds flat and unhappy.

“Have your feet frozen off yet?” I ask with a grin. Levine jumps up on the bed, head-butts my hand and begins to purr as I stroke his back.

“No, smart ass, not yet.” He chuckles.

“Well, wear socks, or they will. What’s on tap for tomorrow?” I lean my head back and close my eyes, listening to him move about his bedroom, trying to picture what he looks like.

“I’ll probably be up at the hospital most of the day. Gary…” he stops suddenly and goes quiet.

“What’s wrong?” I ask and frown.

“I just found something tucked in my clothes.” I hear the smile in his voice.

“What is that?” I try to sound nonchalant, but can’t help the grin on my face.

“A note,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”

“I don’t usually do mushy stuff like that, you know,” I remind him with a laugh, and my stomach clenches when I hear him chuckle.

“Yes, I know. You’re very anti-mush.”

“Damn straight.”

“You know, I always knew this house was cold and uninviting, but I didn’t care because I was hardly here. Now that I’m here without you in it, it’s even worse.” He whispers the last few words.

“Sounds like you have it bad, Nash.”

“I’m having my assistant put it on the market tomorrow. I’ll have my personal stuff sent up north. I’m not staying here again. How’s my car?”

“Well, the tow truck guy told me that it would be just fine in a few weeks,” I slap my hand over my mouth so he can’t hear the laughter.

“That’s not funny.”

“What?”


“I will spank your ass when I see you, Samantha,” he warns.

“Promises, promises.”

“Tell me it’s safe in your parking garage.”

“It’s safe in someone’s parking garage.” This time I don’t hold back on the laughter.

“Samantha Williams!” He’s laughing too and I hear rustling around like he’s getting undressed.

“Are you naked?” I ask.

“Yes. Climbing in bed. You?”

“No, I’m not naked, but I’m in bed.”

“Which shirt are you wearing?”

“Cyndi Lauper,” I lie.

“Liar,” he whispers.

“Journey,” I lie again.

“Try again, sunshine.”

“I might be wearing a signed Nash shirt that my sweet boyfriend gave to me.”

“That’s better.” I hear him yawn and I scoot back down to lie under the covers.

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