Surrender (Seaside Pictures #4) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,3

“Yeah, but hey, don’t worry. There’s a reason you’re my favorite. You saved us from having to throw dear Mom here on the street to sell her body. I mean, can you imagine?

“Amelia!” Mrs. Connors’ face flushed bright red. “I would never— I mean…” She looked ready to pull out her own dark luscious brown hair. “Low blood sugar. We really should get going…”

“Hey, wait.” I grabbed Mrs. Connors’ arm. “Give me your number.”

Amelia gaped between us, jaw dropped. “Mom! He’s like super famous. Stop stalling! Use your words—”

“I have words,” her mom snapped. “I’m just— I don’t know if that’s the best idea with— We have to go.” She turned on her heel and nearly sprinted in the other direction, apparently almost forgetting about Amelia, who stayed back with a smirk on her face.

“I know how this works.” I crossed my arms at the sixteen-year-old. “I give you something. You give me your mom’s number. What will it take?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Two backstage passes and a shout-out on your Instagram.”

“Steep.” I nodded and then held out my hand. “Deal, now give me her number.”

She let out a shriek while her mom finally realized that she’d stayed back to talk to me.

Amelia fired off the number, and I typed it into my phone with a grin.

“How old are you anyway?” Amelia just had to ask.

“Old as hell, just like your mom,” I said in a chipper voice and then, “thirty-six.”

She beamed. “Mom’s thirty-nine, though she tells everyone she’s still thirty-five.”

I glanced up at her mom, who was now holding her phone to her ear and glaring at us. “She looks like she’s in her twenties.”

“Believe me, I’m aware. Every single one of my guy friends is in love with her.”

“No doubt,” I whispered under my breath. “She dating anyone?”

“Oh, I’m sorry I can’t answer that question. You only asked for her number. Now you get to do the work, rockstar. It was lovely, by the way, doing business with you!”

“Hey, that’s extortion!” I pointed out.

She just shrugged and shoved her Pradas back up on her nose. “No, that’s good business.”

“Well, aren’t you terrifying.”

She did a mock curtsy. “Thank you.”

I shuddered. I’d dealt with enough teenage girls to last a lifetime. “Your mom’s waiting.”

“Bronte,” she corrected me. “Her name’s Bronte. Use it.”

I grinned. “Was that free?”

“Nothing in this world is free, Drew Amhurst. Nothing.” With a giggle, she was walking back toward her mom, and I was smiling like an idiot after them.

Drew Amhurst.

They always said my full name.

Always.

I wasn’t just Drew.

I was Drew Amhurst.

THE Drew Amhurst.

This was the first time in a long time I actually felt good about someone full-naming me. I waved at Amelia and watched in fascination as Bronte turned back and then jerked away.

I’d only ever interacted with her when she was at one of Braden’s concerts and hadn’t even been aware that they were in Seaside at the moment. Did they live here now? Or were they just visiting Braden? And how the hell was I supposed to dig for information from him when he’d rather bury my still-breathing body than give it to me?

I started walking slowly back toward the studio, my grin still in place. Maybe I wouldn’t leave for LA next week, after all.

Because something suddenly made me think that a little staycation was exactly what I needed.

CHAPTER 2

Bronte

I was at the beach house alone, the same beach house that Braden had owned before buying something bigger and gifting this one to me.

I needed the privacy, especially after dealing with paparazzi outside our small apartment when he first broke out — then the constant nagging from my ex. He wanted money. He just needed a little bit. He was so proud of his son.

Bullshit.

He saw a cash cow and held it against me when our own son wanted nothing to do with the father who’d abandoned him at ten.

I shoved the lasagna into the oven, even though it was just me. Braden was at his home with his new fiancée, who I adored. And Amelia wanted to stay at a friend’s house since she was stressed out about the results from the doctor. I really couldn’t blame her.

I just felt…

Alone.

Then again, that was what happened when you got pregnant at sixteen and had a fully grown man child already at thirty-nine. You get lonely. It was strange watching some of my friends marry later, only because now they were the ones with infants and toddlers. They were stressed out about daycare,