Bedded Bliss (Found in Oblivion Book 1) (32 page)

T
his definitely ranked
as one of the most interesting shows Michael had ever performed.

Rather than a front row of fans rocking out, this first row was full of kids and their parents. The second and third rows too. The rest of the people were standing, clustered in groups at the back of the newly built tasting room at Happy Acres Orchard—and now Winery. His grandparents had decided to open up their brand new winery with some entertainment, and who better than Warning Sign? They weren’t exactly the kind of musical act one would expect to find at an orchard filled with kids and families, but the band had enjoyed coming up with a child-friendly set. Between his own experience with Axl, and Molly’s with her nephews, Dylan and Seth, plus Elle’s with her nieces, Charlotte and Avery, the band was full up on kid time and knew what might work for a younger crowd.

Of course Juliet, West and Ryan hadn’t been as excited until they’d started jamming out to some
Sesame Street
classics, and hell, who didn’t enjoy those? Add a rock flair and everyone had a good time.

Plus, Nick had allowed them to play his song “Lullaby”. The tune only occasionally came out at Oblivion’s acoustic sets, on account of the fact it was a song he’d written for his twins. Oddly enough, most hard rock crowds didn’t appreciate being lulled into unconsciousness at the end of a show.

This bunch though? They were lapping it up. Literally, since at least a fourth of the audience had apple juice boxes or applesauce cups.

Michael strummed through the end notes of “Lullaby” on his well-loved Gibson, which had stickers all over the back from his travels. As a teenager, he’d been stupid enough to slap stickers on the wood casing rather than his travel case. Now he liked the vintage, distressed look of the guitar, and especially he loved the way the instrument purred under his touch like a well-satisfied woman. As the song came to a close, he eased back and let Elle take over, using the moment to finish up with some percussion with his hand gently thumping the guitar.

They had their own full-time percussion now though, and it wasn’t Ryan, currently working his magic on a triangle. At the beginning of the song, he’d played a piccolo. The kids had stared up at Ry as if he were the Pied freaking Piper.

But on the drums was Malachi fucking Shawcross. He seemed more than a little shell-shocked at playing for a bunch of rugrats and their parents, but he appeared to be having a good time. Even Michael’s gruff, often sullen older brother loved Lila’s parents. Back when he’d had no use for Lila, he’d still been won over by Gram and Pop. Who wouldn’t be? For two boys from sun-drenched California who’d never seen snow, Happy Acres had been like an oasis. Crisp leaves, juicy apples, a real family. They’d been as starstruck as some of these kids were now at seeing their instruments and amps.

Family, man, was a beautiful thing.

Michael smiled at his own sitting off to the side of the first row. Axl danced between Chloe’s legs, clapping with the rest of the kids as the song ended. He couldn’t get enough of the orchard. Lila’s dad had taken him out apple picking the day before, and since then, he’d been begging Chloe and Michael to do it again.

They’d be going out tomorrow bright and early, before the Sunday crowd swamped the place in earnest. Axl was almost two-and-a-half now and getting into everything. He seemed to be teething constantly, and he had tantrums on a nightly basis. But he liked picking apples and eating applesauce and jumping in Pop’s ginormous piles of leaves, so Michael was all for it. They’d be coming back out to the orchard for Thanksgiving, and maybe Christmas too. All depended on how the rest of the year’s band schedule shook out. Lila was booking them for basically anything she could get. Now that Warning Sign wasn’t in the tabloids because of Michael’s partying, or love life issues, or sudden weddings by Elvis, they were focusing on promoting their music.

As far as Michael was concerned, that was just freaking fine. He’d be good with never being caught in a media maelstrom again.

“How do you guys feel about doing something a little different?” Molly asked, clapping her hands and playing the peppy cheerleader routine to the hilt. She genuinely loved kids and she had a way with them. She was also as pretty as a fairy tale princess so they all squealed and bounced on their tiny sneakers. “Let’s play ‘What time is it, Mr. Fox’. Do you guys know that game?”

There was a range of answers, most of them an enthusiastic “Yes!”

Axl definitely knew it, since the pre-pre K he’d started going to two afternoons a week while Chloe was taking culinary classes at the Institute taught the counting game like a religion. It also had the bonus of wearing out the kids, and anytime a rambunctious child went to sleep voluntarily was a good time.

Molly briefly outlined the game for those who didn’t know how to play, and the kids ran to one side of the tasting room. Their smiling parents and some of the people who worked at the orchard moved the chairs to the back to give them room to run. Molly moved off the band’s raised dais and into the center of the room to begin, and the kids dutifully asked her what time it was.

Michael glanced at Elle as the kids took the requisite steps forward, Axl of course leading the pack.

“That one’s mine,” he told her.

Smiling faintly, she shook her head. “No kidding. I must’ve missed the banner you draped over the Hollywood sign announcing that fact.”

Michael grinned. He hadn’t put up any signs—yet—but he just might.

Being married was pretty frigging awesome. From the instant he’d heard Chloe’s proposal until he met her at the altar and slipped the sapphire ring on her finger, he’d been in a state of shock. Seeing her in her wedding gown and knowing she’d willingly chosen to marry him still stood out as the most incredible moment of his life.

She was his wife. Forever and ever, a-freaking-men.

Of course there were squabbles about petty shit. Like when he left his socks on the floor, or fed Axl too much candy, or when he hid Chloe’s panties because…well, that one was obvious.

Sometimes the fights were bigger. Sometimes the paparazzi still swarmed too close. Once or twice they’d snapped a picture of Chloe and Axl at the doctor’s office, or at the mall, and Chloe had gone into protective lockdown mode. She’d dealt with so much after Snake’s death regarding the media that she was still gun-shy. Add in the Tabitha thing and how she and Michael had gotten together, and Michael doubted she’d ever truly come to terms with their interference in their lives.

Warning Sign wasn’t super huge yet. If that changed, things could get way worse. Michael had no desire to hide his family away, but if he had to, he would. He and Chloe had started talking tentatively about more kids over the summer, sort of feeling each other out. It was obviously very early days in their relationship, but their accelerated timeline had made them both starting thinking they were ready earlier than usual.

On Axl’s good days, being a parent was fun. They had it all under control. Why not add another one while Axl was still little? He’d like a sibling, right? Having Mal be so close in age had been a great experience for Michael, and if they wanted something similar for Axl, they had to get on the stick.

Or Chloe had to get on the stick, early and often. Something she did pretty damn often anyway.

They’d even gone the route of ditching the condoms and the birth control a couple of months ago, during a particularly great period with Axl. His teething agony had slowed down, and he was generally a happy baby, and hey, the monster in the closet was nothing more than scorched earth, so why not?

Almost immediately after that momentous decision, Axl had gotten a double ear infection and decided he was deathly afraid of clowns. Naturally, Lila had just bought him a little miniature clown, and hiding it in a steel box under Axl’s bed had not been enough. They’d had to move the doll to the master bedroom closet and finally back to Lila’s place, where her daughter Avery had fallen in mad, fiendish love with the creepy thing.

But Axl was still traumatized, crying every time he saw anyone in too much makeup. Even Michael’s occasional use of guyliner at a concert had made him break into sobs that one time.

So maybe they should wait on the baby, if she could even get pregnant that fast. She’d indicated some inconsistency with birth control back when she’d been with Snake, which absolutely had not been a factor with them. They’d been meticulous about it until they hadn’t been. Now they were living wild and free, but he might just pull back the reins a little—if she agreed. They had time. Axl was still so little. They could enjoy him on his own, then figure out when to add on once life settled down.

He was almost sure it had to settle down eventually.

Molly’s game included lots of children running and shrieking and making all manner of kiddie mayhem. From what Michael could tell, Molly’s rules were fast and loose. Unsurprising, really.

He and the rest of the band decided to do a melodic accompaniment from the stage, which made their lead singer send them an arch look just in case any of them got ideas about wanting to sing. None of them did, and so peace reigned across the orchard.

Refreshments followed Molly’s shenanigans. Children descended on the overloaded snack table and grabbed warm cider donuts and apple fritters, cups of cider, and apples and grapes out of bowls with the zest of a missionary fresh out of bible school. Soon the excited yelps and laughter of a ton of kids high on sugar bounced around the room.

Michael unstrapped his guitar and tucked it into its case, then went to pick up his sugar monster from where he was sticking his face into a wooden cutout with a donkey’s body on the other side. Chloe was standing behind him laughing, but she looked tired. Lines fanned out from her dark eyes and bracketed her mouth and she was bracing her back as if she’d been roughhousing with Axl again. The kid loved being in the air so much that Michael was pretty sure they’d have a pilot on their hands one day.

Maybe he’d just figure out how to turn into a bird.

“You okay?” Michael asked Chloe, snagging them both cups of cider. Axl had already worked his way through one, judging from the sticky ring around his mouth.

“Sure. It’s been a terrific day. Gram mentioned doing a hayride after dark. I guess they do one on weekend nights in October at a nearby farm with Jason and Freddy and a lot of those gory dudes.” Chloe shuddered. “The September hayride is much tamer. Just a couple glowing pumpkins and scarecrows under spotlights. Kid-friendly, I already checked.”

“Sure, that sounds fun. Want to go upstairs and take a nap first?” Michael glanced at Axl, who’d moved on to stick his head in the hole with a cow body on the other side. He’d definitely have to get some shots of that.

Chloe stepped forward and laced her fingers with his. “Depends. Are you coming up to nap with me?” She waggled her eyebrows and he had to laugh.

“I’d love to, but Ax-Man isn’t quite able to watch himself yet.”

“No, but your grandparents would love to. As a matter of fact…” Chloe waved to Michael’s Gram and she hurried over, her arms full of decorations. “Mrs. Ronson, would you mind watching Axl for a little—”

“Oh dear, yes. Please. Can I? I want to just eat him right up. Take as long as you like.” Gram pinched Michael’s cheek as she passed, then moved on to Axl. He clapped his hands at the sight of the goodies she carried, and they wandered off to explore whatever treasures she’d unearthed.

“So as you were saying about that nap,” Michael began, sliding his arms around Chloe’s waist. “I’m suddenly so sleepy.”

“I just bet.” She poked him in the chest. “Let’s go. We don’t have long.”

“I’m a magician with small windows of time.”

“Sure you are.” She shot him a smile over her shoulder and led him through the pocket doors that led into the front of the winery.

They meandered back over to the main house and through the general store, then up the stairs to the second level where family and close friends stayed when in town. They also had a lodge on the property with spacious rooms for those who wanted to stay overnight, but of course Michael and Chloe had been given red carpet treatment. The rest of the band was at the lodge, which wasn’t exactly a hardship. That place was huge and gorgeous and rustic in a way the cabins in California wished they could replicate.

Not that he loved the orchard or anything. Nope.

“Did you know we were given the babymaking room?” Chloe asked nonchalantly as they entered their suite.

He shut the door. “The what?”

“The babymaking room. Apparently, there’s like a whole legend that goes with it. Everyone who stays in this room ends up pregnant shortly afterward.”

If that was the case—and not saying that he believed in any such nonsense—guess they’d be shelving the whole “putting the baby on hold” plan.

He probably shouldn’t be excited. Wasn’t he supposed to be nervous about impending fatherhood? Well, double fatherhood, since he already was one. But he’d never been around for the whole cycle before. The conception part they had down pat. The rest would be all new for him, and he couldn’t wait.

Except he’d just told himself they should. So, right, waiting. Waiting was good.

“Hmm. Even the guys get knocked up in here?” he teased. “If so, that’s some special room.”

Chloe sat on the bed and kicked out at him as he approached. “Wiseass.”

He grabbed her feet and pried off her shoes. “Do you believe in crazy shit like that?”

She leaned back on her elbows and shrugged. “I don’t believe but I don’t not believe. Lila found out she was pregnant when she was staying here.”

“How do you know that?”

“She told me after she found out we were visiting the orchard. We’ve kind of talking now. A little. We’re not besties or anything, but things are better. Lord, what are you doing to me?”

“Right this second? Taking off your jeans.”

“No, I mean a minute ago when you were massaging my calves. Do that again.”

“The plan was to massage all of you.”

“God, I love you.”

He glanced up at the words, his heart kicking as it always did. They were still so rare and precious, although she said them fairly often. He’d never get tired of hearing them. “Because I give a killer massage?”