Hearts the Last Beat (Angel Fire #6) - Ellie Masters Page 0,19

there for her, but I don’t think he and Valerie would’ve lasted. I always got an odd vibe between them. I think Bash wanted to be in love with Valerie, but she wanted her own life.” Ash shrugs. “Anyway, it is what it is.”

“That’s the truth.”

In more ways than one.

“Looks like you and Angel are doing better.”

My breath hitches, and I go over every second of the last hour. If we can’t fool our friends for the first hour we’re together as a couple, then we really are doomed. I might as well start packing a bag and high tail it out of here before Bash gets back.

“What does that mean?”

“Only that you actively avoid being in the same room with her. Hanging out with groupies is one thing, but living with a teenager is totally different. Like they’re totally different creatures. Moody as shit. Volatile. I totally get why you want to steer clear.” Ash’s brows knit together as he watches the women talk in the other room. “I’m just glad I’ve got little Zach instead of a girl.”

“Why’s that?”

“After everything we’ve done with chicks?” Ash huffs a laugh. “Let’s just say any daughter of mine will be locked away until she’s thirty-five. Boys are trouble. Men are worse. And rock stars are definitely forbidden. If my daughter goes anywhere near a rock star, I’m feeding that bastard his balls.”

My balls shrivel at that comment. If I thought I’d find any support with Ash, that’s the beginning and end of it. He looks at Angel as if she’s his kid, not the woman I intend to make mine.

I’m so totally fucked.

“I don’t avoid her.” For some reason, I feel a need to defend my actions.

“I figured you got tired of the way she looks at you. I wouldn’t want to be around that day after day. Like I said, it’s different with a groupie. They’re in, out, and gone, but don’t worry, Angel will move on when she finds a boy that attracts her interest. Her little crush on you will be yesterday’s news.” He bumps my shoulder. “Guess that’s what you get for being the last man standing.”

“How’s that?”

“Bash’s kid isn’t crushing on the rest of us, only you. But then, we’ve all got wives. You’re open season.”

I rub at my arm and parse every word Ash says. Not as intuitive as Forest, he certainly picked up on the way Angel looks at me. That means everybody knows.

Totally fucked.

“You said lunch was different. How?”

“Well, she barely looked at you, for one thing. And you didn’t rush to get out of there. Didn’t feel the same tension between you that I normally feel.” He shrugs again.

Ash isn’t nearly as perceptive as Forest. There’s tension, all right. Tons and tons of tension; the sexually frustrated kind.

Eight

Angel

Lunch lasts forever. I don’t want to eat because I don’t want to lose the taste of Spike on my lips. My entire body sparks and vibrates with him sitting across from me.

Everyone must feel this crazy energy, but they act as if nothing’s going on. Every now and then, Spike catches my eye. He winks or presses a finger to his lips, reminding me where those fingers were not too long ago.

So sexy, I squirm with the memory of finally being in his arms. I want to shout and let everyone know how deliriously happy I am, but I keep my mouth shut. Too hard not to grin like an idiot when I look at him, I avert my gaze as much as possible.

Can people tell?

I look for telltale clues, but nothing. Like always, nobody shows any interest in me.

I’m grateful Bash brought me to live at Insanity. The social worker said I’d only have to spend a year in foster care. I could’ve petitioned for emancipation, but Mom’s medical bills drained our accounts.

I literally had nothing and no way to pay for the rent on our tiny home. Emancipation wasn’t an option and given the choice between foster parents and the father, who was a stranger and only just found out about me, I opted for the house of a rock star.

Bash and I definitely bang heads. I’m too independent, and he’s too controlling, making up for a lifetime of parental supervision over the span of days. We prowl around each other, trying not to set the other one off.

It’s an uncomfortable truce, but he didn’t kick me out when I turned eighteen and shows no inkling to do so. For that, I’m