Pure Wicked (Wicked Lovers 9.5)

“Hi.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Candia.”

Bristol blew out a jagged breath. She wasn’t shocked…but she wasn’t thrilled, either. “Don’t tell me you’re here to plead his case about any sort of fake marriage. The answer is no.”

“I’m here to apologize,” she clarified, hands clasped, face contrite. “May I come in so I can explain?”

What the hell? The night had already turned into a freaking sideshow. “Sure.”

Candia stepped in, and Bristol shut the door behind her, looking around for some privacy. Obviously, they couldn’t talk in the kitchen with everyone listening in. So she guided the woman into the empty parlor off the foyer to the right and shut the door. Instantly, the noise level dropped.

“Why are you here?” The more Bristol thought about it, the more she wished she’d shut the door in the woman’s face. “You know, I’m a real person with feelings who doesn’t appreciate you trying to manipulate me in order to make your client’s life a little cushier. He can go to—”

“Before you finish that sentence, you should know that marrying you was his idea first.”

Knowing that Jesse McCall thought it was no big deal to twist her heart around and pretend to be enough in love with her to share a lifelong bond pissed her off. “Great. Thanks for the FYI. You’re both horrible human beings. Will you get out of my house, please?”

Well, her mother’s house, but she was splitting hairs. The worst part was, even as Candia was throwing Jesse under the bus and all but admitted they’d conspired to use her to improve his image, Bristol still wanted him, missed him. Kind of even loved him.

Exactly why she hated romance. She did it so spectacularly bad and always wound up hurt. From now on, she was banning both romance and flings. Instead, she’d become the crazy cat spinster who baked cookies for the whole damn town. Maybe it wouldn’t bother her in a few years.

Yeah, when you’re sixty.

As she reached around Candia to open the door and show the woman out, Jesse’s publicist shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. The idea to marry you because he loves you was his. I had the same idea, though for the more obvious reason I stated in my message. I texted him…which I hear you read. When he read it first, this is what he had to say.” She held up her phone to reveal the screen that listed her voicemails. One from Jesse appeared three messages down, the date and time stamp shortly after he had made love to her and proposed.

“Are you crazy, woman?” Jesse sounded really agitated. No, super pissed off. “I’m not going to pretend to marry Bristol for my image. I know your job is to worry what people think of me, but that’s fucking out of the question. And over the line. I’m finally in love and I’m grabbing her with both hands. You can either be happy for me and get on board or hop the fuck off the train.”

Candia stopped the voicemail, then flipped to her texts. “You can see clearly here what time he read my message.” She shoved the screen in Bristol’s face. Based on what she remembered, Jesse hadn’t read Candia’s text until after he’d asked Bristol to marry him.

Her heart seized up. Regret poured through her. Had Jesse actually meant everything he said?

Had she completely screwed up?

She jerked her stare up to Candia’s face, her heart racing. The sort of cold sweat that came with a terrible realization hit her. “You’re not here to try and convince me to marry him for his image?”

She shook her head, looking contrite. Given Candia’s polished-within-an-inch-of-her-life appearance, Bristol was pretty sure she didn’t show anyone her vulnerable underbelly very often.

“I’m here because Jesse is not merely a client; he’s a friend. He was also right. What I suggested was over the line. I didn’t understand how you could have possibly made such an impact on him in such a short period of time, but since he circled back with me last night, he’s set up a scholarship for recovering addicts in Maddy Harris’s name. At about one this morning, he filmed a PSA about the dangers of recreational drug use and experimenting. I can’t tell you how many favors he called in for that. Then he sat me down and told me everything wonderful about you. In the four years I’ve known him, he’s never connected with any woman on anything beyond the physical level. But you, he can’t stop talking about. To hear him, you’re practically a saint. Since you agreed to be your sister’s maid of honor after she stole your ex, I’d say that qualifies.” The woman sent her a wry grin.

“They just broke up. I’m off the hook.” Bristol blinked at the other woman, confused. “I’m sorry. So…you came here to tell me what a great guy he is and how much I screwed up?”

“No. He wanted me to be sure you understood that what I said in that text wasn’t his idea, but mine. All mine. And he wants to talk to you.”

Bristol bit her lip as her heart skidded to a stop. Jesse didn’t hate her for lacking trust and assuming he was screwing her over? For once, she didn’t hesitate. She knew exactly what she wanted. “Yes. I want to talk to him, too. I wanted to talk to him after inhaling my milkshake.”

When Candia looked at her blankly, Bristol tried not to curse at herself. The conversation had rattled her. She needed to be clear before the woman decided she was crazy and tried to change Jesse’s mind for good.

“Sorry.” She grimaced. “That didn’t make sense.”

Candia suddenly grinned. “No, I get it now. After a breakup, men cry in their beers. Women consume empty calories and have a good cry.”

The woman’s words gave Bristol pause. “He didn’t break his sobriety, did he?”

“No. In the past, I think an emotional loss like that would have sent him to a bottle and some blow with a couple of bimbos. Last night, he was completely determined to get you back.”

Her words made Bristol’s heart swell and beat faster. The misery that had dragged her down since she’d returned from Sonic to find him gone had magically disappeared. In its place? Hope.

“So will he call me or something?”

“Something,” she replied vaguely, then held out her hand. “It was really nice to meet you.”

Bristol shook it, then Jesse’s publicist exited the parlor and whisked her way out the front door. She stood, gaping after the woman. That was it?

Suddenly, Jayla appeared at her side. “Who was that?”

With a frown, Bristol started to explain. Granted, in slow, halting sentences because she was still trying to grasp it all herself. But the hope was shimmering brighter, like a shiny bangle dancing a jig in her brain.

Then the doorbell rang again, and she let out a sigh of relief. Maybe Candia had returned.

But when she wrenched the door open, Bristol found Jesse McCall standing there, looking far more like his rock star self than he had during his days with her. He wore combat boots and black leather pants—and he wore them well. A tight charcoal tee stretched across his muscled chest and hugged his bulging biceps. A fresh scruff now darkened his jawline, lending him a gorgeously disreputable look. A guitar strap crossed his torso diagonally, and the instrument rested on his back. The neck stood out, angled above one shoulder. He didn’t look merely gorgeous, but as if the professional and personal side were finally happy together in his skin.

Bristol swallowed her tongue.

“Hi, honey. Sorry I’m late.” He echoed the words he’d first spoken to her and sent her a searching smile, complete with those dimples that made her heart melt.

A thousand things she could say to him crossed her brain at once. A simple “hi” didn’t begin to convey everything in her heart. But she didn’t want to get into all the gory details of their relationship in the foyer of her mother’s house while anyone could simply walk in. As it was, Bristol figured that only a miracle—or a major ongoing drama in the kitchen—was keeping everyone from running to the front door to see who’d arrived.

Jayla elbowed her, reminding Bristol that she hadn’t said anything at all.

But her mouth didn’t seem to be working. Instead, she launched

herself at him, linking her hands behind his neck and plastering her body against his. “I’m sorry.”

He banded a beefy hand around her waist and bowed his head until their foreheads touched. He stroked her crown with a soft palm. “It’s all right. I understand. Hayden’s crap, Jayla’s questions, Candia’s text…”

“They messed with my head,” she agreed breathlessly.

“I sent Candia to explain since she had all the evidence on her phone. You better now?”

She nodded, then looked around to see that her best friend had melted into the background, probably in the kitchen doing crowd control. Bless her.

“Much.” Bristol smiled brightly. “You’re here.”

“You ready to talk?”

“Yeah.” But she wanted to make one thing clear first. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. That song I was writing for you at your place? I finished it this morning. Can I play it for you? You’ll be the very first person to hear it.”

Her heart flipped and fluttered. “Please.”

With the warmest smile she’d ever seen him give, he twisted the guitar strap around his body and anchored the instrument against his chest. He strummed and looked at her. He was all man, but she saw the uncertain boy under that who hoped she’d like his gift.

After he cleared his throat, he began singing in the beautiful tenor that had made him millions.

“You turned me on

Like a light bulb

With just a smile

And all your charm

You made me hot

My heart was frozen

All but closed down

Then you sparked me with a touch

And now you’re gone

I’m so lost

Looking for a way to carry on

I can’t go back

To who I was

To who I’d been

Don’t want to hear ‘God, remember him when…’

Before you

I didn’t know what I wanted

Or know about love

I didn’t understand

You’re all I’ve dreamed of

But now you’re gone

And I live with regret

I’m just not ready to handle it yet.

Before you

I didn’t know you would change me

Or show me the way

I didn’t understand

Why my pride wouldn’t wait

But now I see

I understand

You’ve made me into a better man.”

As he repeated the chorus, Bristol teared up. The drops rolled down her cheeks. He’d written those words about her? “It’s beautiful. Oh, my gosh… I’m so honored. Touched.” She choked. “In love with you. I wish I had something to give you in return.”

“Right now, I only want one thing.” He got down on one knee and drew out a pretty blue box from his pants.

She gasped. When she untied the white bow and pulled off the lid, a sleek black velvet box lay inside.

“Open it,” he insisted softly.

She did so—and absolutely lost her breath. Inside was an exquisite Tiffany engagement ring. It wasn’t beautiful because of its size or overwhelming dazzle, but because of its sparkling simplicity. It looked like something she would have picked out for herself.

She looked at him, fresh tears sparkling. “I love it.”

“Marry me, Bristol Alexa Reese. We’ll wait as long as you want to announce our engagement and tie the knot. We’ll get married however you want and live wherever you want. I’m dissolving the band to go behind the scenes and focus on my songwriting. I swear no getting wasted or getting laid. I just want everything to be you and me and our lives forever.”

Tears ran down her face quickly now. She sobbed at the feeling swelling in her chest, but she managed to choke out one word to him. “Yes.”

A grin broke out across his handsome face. “No doubts?”

“None.”

“What are you going to tell your family about me? About us.”

“That I’m in love.” She gave him a watery smile. “And to butt out.”

He took the box from her shaking hands and settled the ring on her finger. “It’s a perfect fit.”

She raised up on her tiptoes and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, melting into him now and always. “Just like you are for me.”