Strong: A Stage Dive Novella (Stage Dive #4.5)(14)

“Tank you,” he said tiredly.

“Time to go to sleep,” said Liz, delivering her own goodnight kisses. “I love you.”

“Mommy...”

“Sweet dreams, baby.”

A nightlight turned in slow circles, sending rockets, stars, and hearts moving across the walls. Over in the corner, the toy box was packed full of balls, trucks, a baby bass guitar or two, and various dolls. Gib and I had done a tidy-up earlier and everything seemed in order. Perhaps I wasn’t the absolute worst nanny to ever attempt being in charge of a child.

Despite a full evening of playing hide and seek with Lizzy and Gib, a great distraction from the ridiculous conversation in the band room earlier as it turned out, I was wide awake. Then again, it couldn’t be any later than around nine. His bedtime might be supposed to be eight, but Gibby turned out to be rather ingenious when it came to extending it until all hours. Especially when his father was over working on songs with Uncle David and unavailable for goodnight kisses. Oh the woe. So much woe. Gib had even managed to squeeze out a couple of fake tears. The child was truly a master manipulator and I couldn’t help but be a bit proud of how much effort he put into attempting to get his way. Total dedication to the cause.

“I’ve never heard of trains going shopping for handbags at Louis Vuitton before,” whispered Lizzy, following me out into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind us.

“Every self-respecting train needs a Neverfull.”

“Of course they do.” She slipped the baby monitor thingy onto her belt. “Can I offer you an alcoholic beverage of some description?”

“Sounds good.”

“You know, I was thinking of going for a swim. The pool’s heated. Or we could try out the hot tub?”

I nodded. “Good idea. I’m pretty sure he broke at least part of my back making me give him horsey rides today. Meet you down there.”




One thing I missed living in New York had been spending quality time at the beach. Not that rooftop pools and bars weren’t fun. But they weren’t Malibu. That said, Portland wasn’t Malibu either, though Ben and Lizzy’s outdoor area had been impressively designed and landscaped. During the day, you could see Mount Hood rising in the distance. But night-time was special too. Subdued lighting hid amongst the foliage and under the water, turning it a pale glowing blue. A long glass and stone wall served as an ornate fountain at one end of the pool. Even nature cooperated, delivering up a clear sky with a half moon and scattering of stars high overhead. It was a beautiful night. A peaceful one. And since Ben had gone over to David and Ev’s place before Lizzy got home, I could be reasonably certain they hadn’t yet had time to confer about today’s events. Me managing and Sam’s being on my side etcetera. Lizzy would eventually be all over me about it, but not tonight. Thank God.

Meanwhile, Lizzy must have gotten delayed or something. I collected the waiting wine glasses and requisite bottle sitting in ice off an ornate ironwork table. As if we’d be going back and forth from the hot tub.

Funny thing, the hot tub wasn’t empty and the person in it definitely wasn’t Lizzy.

“Martha,” said Sam, raising his head off the edge to appraise my red bikini. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” I set the glasses and bottle beside the tub. “Is this a set-up?”

“Not by me.”

I frowned on account of it being my go-to expression.

“I’m out here every night after I finish my workout.”

“Of course you are.” I sighed. “Lizzy would know that.”

For a moment he said nothing, his gaze fixed on my face as if he could read me. And he probably could. “Breeze is cool tonight, but the water’s good and hot. Are you getting in?”

I nodded and carefully made my way down the steps into the as-promised beautifully warm bubbling water. It did feel dangerously good.

“What’s in the bucket?” he asked.

I knelt on the step to inspect the bottle. “Fucking Cristal champagne. This is so a set-up.”

“Doesn’t say much if you have to be tricked into spending time with me,” he said, tone deceptively light.

“You know that’s not it.”

“Do I? Because I can leave if you like.”

With practiced ease, I popped the cork and filled the two glasses, handing him one. “Sam, will you please stay and have a drink with me?”

“Why, Martha, I’d love to.” His big hand took the delicate glass from me. Everything about the man was solid, bulky. Not my usual type at all. Next to Sam, I felt positively delicate. Hilarious when you considered how many men I’d scared out of a second date. He made me wish I knew anatomy better. So I could put a name to all of the bumps and bulges in his shoulders and arms. His steamy wet shoulders and arms. “You’re staring.”

“Hmm?” I asked.

“You’re staring at me. Sit down.”

“Oh.” I sat.

“No need to frown.”

“I’m not frowning.”

“Whatever you say.” His voice was all placid and happy now. I amped my expression up to a scowl. An arm stretched across the edge of the tub, he put the glass to his lips, taking a sip. A wince. “Do you actually like this shit?”