My Rock #8 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #8) by Alycia Taylor
Authors: Alycia Taylor
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ten
or fifteen minutes. You need the practice.”
Her phone rang then and she pulled it out of her
purse and looked at the face of it. “It’s Susie,” she said.
I held out my hand and said, “Let me answer it.”
She handed it to me, but she said, “Be nice.”
“Hello?”
“Hey, Tristan, it’s Susie. Where’s Elly?”
“Mrs. Rodgers is enjoying dinner and time with her
sexy, god-like husband at the moment. Can I take a message?”
“Yeah, tell her to get her eyes checked if she thinks
her husband is sexy and god-like and tell her husband to put her
the fuck on the phone.”
I laughed and said, “You have a filthy mouth.”
“I know. I learned it from my old roommate’s loser
boyfriend.”
“He sounds kind of hot,” I said.
“Good, then you’ll be happy to go fuck yourself. Let
me talk to Elly.” Susie cracked me the fuck up. I handed the phone to Elly. I
heard her tell Susie to come by the house in the morning.
After she hung up I said, “What’s the emergency this
time?”
“It’s not always an emergency,” she said, defending
her friend.
“Only ninety-nine percent of the time,” I said with
a grin. “What does she need?”
“She has a job interview tomorrow. She wants to
borrow my coral sandals to wear with her coral skirt and tan blouse.”
“Coral? Really? You don’t think the tan pumps would have been
a better choice?”
Elly threw her napkin at me and said, “Shut up!”
with a laugh.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
ELLY
I was feeling completely satiated after we ate. I
had sex with the most incredible man in L.A—twice—and I’d just put away
three-quarters of the best Reuben sandwich in the world. I was a happy girl. I
slipped on the back of his bike once more, put on my helmet, and wrapped my
hands around his waist. Once he took off out of the parking lot, I let my hands
slide all the way around his middle and laid my head against his back. I closed
my eyes and, as we drove through the hustle and bustle of San Fernando Blvd., I
reveled in the feel of my body against his and the cool air in my face. He
pulled onto I-5 and pointed us in the direction of Orange County, where we
lived. After Tristan proposed, but before we’d gotten married, he had put a
down payment on this house we looked at once near Newport Beach. It’s one of
those houses that every time I walk into it, I had to practically pinch myself
as a reminder that I really live there and it’s not all a dream. First of all,
it’s right on the beach, which I liked and Tristan loved. He took a walk every
morning along the surf line and then in the evening, when we’re home, we took
one together. I loved watching the sun dip down into the ocean at night and
cast an orange glow across everything. Something about the ocean kept Tristan
calm, too. I don’t think we could ever live far from it.
Behind us, the hills looked close enough to touch
and the neighborhood had a feel to it like you’re in some quiet little village in
the mountains, when the truth was that we’re only a few miles from major
shopping centers and restaurants. It’s in a gated community and at three thousand
plus square feet with four bedrooms and three bathrooms, it was a little big
for us when we first bought it. Tristan said he didn’t care; he wanted me to
have the nicest house in town. He tried hard to make up for the times he let me
pay for everything. He’d done that and then some. He still didn’t seem to
realize that I would have continued to pay for everything forever just for the
chance to spend my life with him.
The house had a pool and a fully-equipped gym where
my sexy husband and I worked out together every day. The bedrooms all had
private little terraces, and in the back we had a large courtyard surrounded by
gorgeous, colorful, fragrant flowers. Some days I liked to just sit out there
and read or think…I’d never imagined being that happy. When my mom came to
visit, she said that she’d always imagined my life like
or fifteen minutes. You need the practice.”
Her phone rang then and she pulled it out of her
purse and looked at the face of it. “It’s Susie,” she said.
I held out my hand and said, “Let me answer it.”
She handed it to me, but she said, “Be nice.”
“Hello?”
“Hey, Tristan, it’s Susie. Where’s Elly?”
“Mrs. Rodgers is enjoying dinner and time with her
sexy, god-like husband at the moment. Can I take a message?”
“Yeah, tell her to get her eyes checked if she thinks
her husband is sexy and god-like and tell her husband to put her
the fuck on the phone.”
I laughed and said, “You have a filthy mouth.”
“I know. I learned it from my old roommate’s loser
boyfriend.”
“He sounds kind of hot,” I said.
“Good, then you’ll be happy to go fuck yourself. Let
me talk to Elly.” Susie cracked me the fuck up. I handed the phone to Elly. I
heard her tell Susie to come by the house in the morning.
After she hung up I said, “What’s the emergency this
time?”
“It’s not always an emergency,” she said, defending
her friend.
“Only ninety-nine percent of the time,” I said with
a grin. “What does she need?”
“She has a job interview tomorrow. She wants to
borrow my coral sandals to wear with her coral skirt and tan blouse.”
“Coral? Really? You don’t think the tan pumps would have been
a better choice?”
Elly threw her napkin at me and said, “Shut up!”
with a laugh.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
ELLY
I was feeling completely satiated after we ate. I
had sex with the most incredible man in L.A—twice—and I’d just put away
three-quarters of the best Reuben sandwich in the world. I was a happy girl. I
slipped on the back of his bike once more, put on my helmet, and wrapped my
hands around his waist. Once he took off out of the parking lot, I let my hands
slide all the way around his middle and laid my head against his back. I closed
my eyes and, as we drove through the hustle and bustle of San Fernando Blvd., I
reveled in the feel of my body against his and the cool air in my face. He
pulled onto I-5 and pointed us in the direction of Orange County, where we
lived. After Tristan proposed, but before we’d gotten married, he had put a
down payment on this house we looked at once near Newport Beach. It’s one of
those houses that every time I walk into it, I had to practically pinch myself
as a reminder that I really live there and it’s not all a dream. First of all,
it’s right on the beach, which I liked and Tristan loved. He took a walk every
morning along the surf line and then in the evening, when we’re home, we took
one together. I loved watching the sun dip down into the ocean at night and
cast an orange glow across everything. Something about the ocean kept Tristan
calm, too. I don’t think we could ever live far from it.
Behind us, the hills looked close enough to touch
and the neighborhood had a feel to it like you’re in some quiet little village in
the mountains, when the truth was that we’re only a few miles from major
shopping centers and restaurants. It’s in a gated community and at three thousand
plus square feet with four bedrooms and three bathrooms, it was a little big
for us when we first bought it. Tristan said he didn’t care; he wanted me to
have the nicest house in town. He tried hard to make up for the times he let me
pay for everything. He’d done that and then some. He still didn’t seem to
realize that I would have continued to pay for everything forever just for the
chance to spend my life with him.
The house had a pool and a fully-equipped gym where
my sexy husband and I worked out together every day. The bedrooms all had
private little terraces, and in the back we had a large courtyard surrounded by
gorgeous, colorful, fragrant flowers. Some days I liked to just sit out there
and read or think…I’d never imagined being that happy. When my mom came to
visit, she said that she’d always imagined my life like
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