Take Me Home Tonight (15 page)

“You do not fantasize about me.”

He remained quiet, eyes on the road. Fingers tapping the steering wheel.

“What kind of fantasies?”

“I thought we weren't going there?”

She burst out laughing. “Okay, we'll swap. One fantasy. Go.”

“Your mouth.”

“You like my mouth.”

“I really like your mouth.”

Automatically, her fingers went to her lips. “I had no idea. But I'm so not your type.”

“I don't have a type.”

“But I wear business suits to clubs.”

“Tight skirts, Mimi. Wrapped around that ass?” He gave a curt nod. “Shit-hot fantasy.”

A tingle skittered down her spine. “
Really?
I had no idea. You're always so indifferent around me.” Well, not recently. But he had been for the several months before she'd hopped on his bike.

“Your turn.”

“Oh.” In that moment she realized she couldn't tell him. “This isn't a good idea.”

“It was
your
idea.”

“Therefore, I have the power to kill it.” She shrugged. “I'm killing it.”

“You are not killing it. I told you mine, it's only fair you tell me yours.”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Didn't your momma teach you life's not fair?”

“Waiting . . .” He shifted in his seat.

Should she tell him? This was too embarrassing. All he'd mentioned was her mouth and her tight skirts, neither of which was in the same league as
her
fantasies. On the other hand . . . “What the hell, right? We already figured out nothing's going to happen between us.”

He pointed toward the sign for Orient Point. “Running out of time here.” He turned right down Manhasset Road. The houses on either side of the street looked old and worn-out. Some had untended yards, while others had tidy gardens. The farther they drove, the denser the houses became, until they reached what clearly made up the heart of the town: a cluster of historical buildings with sagging porches and pretty window boxes.

“Okay, fine.” But as the image formed in her mind, she knew she couldn't say it out loud. Tell him she imagined him taking her from behind?
Forget it.
“I can't.”

“It's that filthy?”

“In general, no. But saying it out loud to you? Yes, it's that filthy.”

“Mimi . . .”

“No, I'm sorry. I never should've brought it up. I didn't mean to tease you, but it's way too inappropriate for people who have to work together.”

Calix pulled in front of the general store, closed at this early hour. When she opened her door, the air smelled musty.

“Go around back?” she asked as he met her on the sidewalk.

He gave a tight nod. “We're not done with this conversation.” And then he led the way along a gravel driveway to the back of the building. A collapsing garage filled with broken bikes and old surfboards sat at the back of the property. In the middle of the small patch of lawn was an umbrella-style laundry dryer that looked like a metal tree.

“Oh, we're done all right.”

But he was already at the back door. He knocked, the sound so loud in the early morning stillness that birds flew out of the nearby bushes. Paint peeled from the cedar siding, and the back lawn was a mess of strewn plastic toys that hadn't seen use in decades.

No one answered, so Calix knocked harder.

She pointed to the white lace curtain flapping out of an open window in the corner room. “That's Laney's.”

“How do you know?”

“Ben said to walk down the side of the house to the last window. That's the corner room.”

“I'm not peeping in her window.”

“You want to call home, see if Gus showed up?”

“Yeah.” He pulled out his phone and swiped the screen.

What had she been thinking, bringing up her fantasy of him? Like she'd ever tell him what he looked like when he got lost in the music. Or that she wanted to see that same expression when he was with her. More specifically when she watched him over her shoulder. On her knees, his hand fisted in her hair, as he slammed into her from behind.

Sensation flashed across her skin.
Oh, yes.

Not only was he gorgeous, but he was a really good man. His intense loyalty to his family? His profound love for them? God, whoever won this man's love was going to be one lucky
girl. She had a feeling when he did fall for someone, he'd fall hard.

Too bad it wouldn't be her. By the time his family healed, she'd be back in the city working for her dad.

“Okay.” Shoving his phone in his pocket, he knocked hard. “Not home, no word from him.”

Cupping a hand, he peered through the gauzy curtain covering the pane of glass. “Fuck it.” He jumped off the porch, boots squishing in the muddy earth, and strode along the side of the house. “He better not be boning her.”

“What if I've got it all wrong, and she's with some other guy? Can you imagine?”

“Thanks for that image, sweet pants. Unfortunately, I gotta check.”

She hated what his family had gone through last night, waiting to find out if Gus was lying in a ditch somewhere. God, how awful.

Everything made so much more sense now.
Of course
he didn't commit to a band. Of course he wasn't in a relationship. Every time he left the house, he probably pictured his mom with a bottle of prescription pills. Every time his phone vibrated, he likely dreaded opening the text. He lived on the edge of his seat, waiting for the inevitable news to come.

Her heart ached for him.

At the window, he pushed aside the curtain and peered in. “Gus?” He rapped on the frame. “Gus?” The word came out like a shot.

Voices murmured, and something crashed.

“What the hell?” Gus leaned out the window. “Jesus, Calix. What're you doing here?”

“Need to turn your phone on. Mom's worried.”

“Oh.” Hair a tangled mess, eyes bloodshot, Gus looked completely hungover. “Sorry, man. I . . .” He scrubbed his face with both hands. “Fuck. I don't know what happened.”

“Text Mom. Let her know you're all right.”

“How'd you find me?”

“You're not exactly this chick's first Blue Fire conquest.”

A wash of color spread across his cheeks. And then he noticed Mimi. “Did you have to bring Mimi?”

“She's the one who found you.” Calix checked his brother out. “You stayin', or you want to come back with us?”

“I don't have a ride, so I'll come with you. Hang on a sec.” He pulled back inside.

“We'll be in the truck.” Calix hadn't even finished his sentence before a black boot flew out the window, followed by its mate.

Then came a jeans-clad leg. Gus landed on the patch of grass, shirt in hand. “Let's go.”

Calix started walking, casting his brother a disgusted look. “Put some clothes on.”

“Just go.”

“You're not even gonna say good-bye?”

Gus snatched up his boots. “I just want to get out of here.”

Big, puffy clouds rolled across the sky, taking turns blocking the sun and making the world a patchwork of grays and bright yellows. By the time they hit the truck, Gus had his jeans buttoned and T-shirt on.

Calix fired up the engine and executed a quick turn, heading back toward the main road.

From the backseat, she heard a harsh exhalation. And then, “Sorry, man.”

Calix eyed him in the rearview mirror but didn't say anything.

“Mom upset?” Gus's voice sounded rough, unused.

“Yeah, man. She's upset.”

“Shit. I don't even have my phone.”

“You leave it at her place?”

“I don't know. I don't think so.”

“How'd you hook up with her? We sent her packing last night.”

“I don't even know who she is. After the party ended, a bunch of us made a bonfire. She was there.” He let out a defeated breath. “Guess I got pretty wasted.”

“Yeah.” Calix tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Look, we got a good thing going with Mom and these cooking lessons. This kind of shit works against us.”

Mimi turned around to find Gus's eyes closed, looking pretty miserable.

“Won't happen again.”

But if it did, Mimi suspected Calix would take it all on his own shoulders.

He'd never be free until he stopped blaming himself for what happened to his family.

*   *   *

Mimi
pulled the tray of scones out of the oven, breathing in the warm, lemony scent. This early time in the kitchen making breakfast, before everyone woke up, was her favorite part of the day.

With the album on hold until they found a new producer, she hadn't seen Calix or Gus since yesterday's rescue operation. What a night that must've been for Jo. She hoped the woman was all right.

The front door slammed. “Meems?” Derek's boots thudded on the hardwood floor.

“Kitchen.” She smiled, girding herself, because the rest of the crew wouldn't be far behind.

“Someone's got wedding fever.” Derek pointed to the kitchen table strewn with bridal magazines and cookbooks.

“Just getting ideas.”

“Smells good.” He snatched a scone off the cookie sheet but immediately dropped it. “Fuck, that's hot.”

She waved her pot-holder-covered hands at him. “Fresh from the oven.”

Derek flipped open a magazine. “You remember she wants simple, right?”

“I've rented out the Eden's Landing country club and sent out invitations to five hundred of your closest friends. I've put a deposit on a man in Arizona famous for making birds out of sugar syrup. Slater's got a call into Katie Perry's people to see if she'll perform. That simple enough?”

When Derek Valencia laughed, the earth moved under her feet. With his tats, shoulder-length hair, and facial scruff, everything about him screamed raw sensuality. He was hot and deep and one hundred percent devoted to his fiancée.

“Since Eden's Landing doesn't have a country club, I'm going to trust you're joking. And since you know my bride
better than anyone else, I'm sure you'll give her what she wants.” He reached for a scone, tossed it to his other hand. “I, uh, I had an idea, though.”

There was nothing hesitant about Derek, so to see him uncomfortable made her feel tender toward him. She motioned for him to sit down. “Tell me.”

Instead, he leaned his hip against the table. “I want to build her a gazebo. A big one. Right in the middle of her wildflowers, overlooking the ocean.”

A rush of warmth spread through her. “That sounds amazing. Is that where you'll exchange vows?”

He nodded, looking uncertain. “You think she'd like that?”

“I think she could say them in her laundry room and be blissfully happy.”

“Yeah. Probably.” He gave an almost shy smile. “But what do you think of the gazebo?”

“I think the gazebo's a beautiful idea. Can't you just see her on a glider with her baby in her arms, nursing while looking out at the sea?”

Derek looked utterly stricken. She wondered if she'd said something wrong—maybe he didn't want kids. But then he swallowed, blinked, and said, “Gazebo's a done fuckin' deal.”

“Good.” She smiled, her heart full, knowing her friend had found such complete happiness. A foster care kid, Violet had never experienced family or real love until she'd crashed into the unrelenting will of Derek Valencia.

The front door slammed again, so hard the windows rattled. Laughter and male voices filled the air.

“What smells so good?” Ben led the troops into the kitchen.

“Scones,” Mimi said.

“What kind?” Cooper asked.

“Blueberry lemon. With a crumble top.”

Grabby hands made off with more than half of them. “You guys. They're hot.”

“No shit.” Cooper practically juggled his.

“Someone wanna get the door?” A gruff, deep voice had
everyone spinning around to see the big, hulking figure of Terrence Bourbon on the back porch, biceps bulging from the weight of a crate.

“Got it.” Ben popped half a scone into his mouth, while racing to let him in. “Fuck, that's hot.”

“Hey, Terrence.” Slater slid a thumb drive into the port of his laptop. Immediately, music began playing.

Terrence set the crate down right next to her. “Brought you some vegetables from my greenhouse.”

“You didn't need to come all the way out here. I'll be at your place this afternoon.”

He started pulling out produce. “You don't have a car, so I thought I'd deliver the goods myself. Look what I brought. Know what it is?”

“
Ferns?
You brought me a decorative plant? That's so sweet, because I know there's no chance you'd ever expect me to eat something that hangs in a macramé planter.”

He burst out laughing.

“Terrence, they look like bugs. Green worms curled up into little balls. I can't do it.”

“You know, just 'cause you said that, I'm gonna make sure Calix uses fiddleheads in one of your challenges.”

“For the love of God, do you hate me?” she said with a warm smile.

“Jesus, this sucks,” Ben shouted over the music.

“We don't have shit to work with,” Cooper said. “There's not one track that's any good.”

Terrence glanced over his shoulder. “Get rid of the auto-tune.”

A chair scraped back, and Slater met him at the counter. “We kept telling him that, but he wanted us to wait till he finished so we could hear the vibe he was going for.”

“He acted like he had this big plan,” Ben said. “But Irwin could tell right away. This album sucks.”

“It isn't our sound,” Derek said.

“It's Dak's signature sound,” Terrence said. “And it worked with Ten09 and Pitstop, but it's not right for you.”

“No, it's not.”

“You got someone to replace him?” Terrence asked.

“Emmie's in the city right now talking to the label about finding us a new producer,” Slater said.

“But who wants to jump into another guy's project?” Ben said. “We're four months in.”

“You should have Terrence do it.” The moment the words left Mimi's mouth, she wished she could suck them back in. Especially when the guys jumped out of their seats with excitement.

“Would you?” Cooper asked.

“That would be awesome,” Ben said.

She could see Derek and Slater reining in their enthusiasm, giving Terrence the chance to respond.

Even if Terrence wanted to work with these guys, he'd worry about his wife. On the other hand, maybe it would give her peace of mind knowing all her guys worked together in the studio, looking out for each other.

“Let's not put him on the spot,” Derek said. “Terrence, I'll tell you straight up, we'd like to work with you. I think you get us. I like your style. But no pressure, man. None at all.”

“Let me sit on it for a while. Maybe Irwin's got someone else in mind.”

Slater shook his head. “Maybe. But we're taking back control. We're gonna have a say in the next producer, and we'd like to work with you.”