“Ah,” I said, getting it.
“Too bad, too,” he said, looking around. “If we had a couch we could just have our meeting in here.”
Oh shit. The meeting. Before I could say anything, the door swung open and through it stepped one of the men of the office, one of the cleaning crew. He stopped in his tracks when he realized there was someone in the boys’ room who was most certainly not a boy.
“Office!” I said. “Let’s go!”
I hurried out of the bathroom as quickly as I could, not even stopping to check to see if Noah was following me. My eyes down, total embarrassment still running through me, I was soon at the door to my office and stepping through. Only when I was safely back behind my desk did I turn around to make sure that Noah hadn’t been left with the extremely confused cleaning-crew guy in the bathroom. Sure enough, he was there, stepping through the door with a calm and cool that was a perfect balance to my ridiculous frazzledness.
“I was serious,” he said as he slid onto the couch and crossed his legs. “I do some of my best thinking in the shower. Might stand to reason that I’d have my best meetings in there too.”
Without any coaxing on my part, my mind was then filled with the image of Noah in the shower, foamy suds gently moving over his sculpted, tattoo-covered muscles. I crossed my legs hard.
“In the bathroom, that is,” he said. “Not in the shower. Never had a meeting in there before.” But then he considered what he’d said. “Not a business one, that is. But, uh, not really appropriate conversation.”
Was he getting tongue-tied too? I couldn’t imagine someone like me having that effect on a guy like Noah.
“Anyway,” he said, that gorgeous little smile returning to his lips. “Pepper. Good to see you.”
“Noah,” I said. “Likewise.”
He clasped his hands together and sat forward. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this,” he said. “After our…hangout the other night I knew I had to see you again. You mentioned that you worked for a publishing company, and I figured that it was worth a shot seeing if I could track you down.”
Noah Mack himself had gone out of his way to find me. It was so thrilling I didn’t even know what to say.
“Well, you found me,” I said.
“That I did,” he said. “And I was thinking it’d be harder than it was.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Thought I might have to put in a little more legwork. Turns out that you’re a big deal in one of the biggest publishing houses. And more than that, your boss seemed very keen on us meeting up.”
Oh yeah. That little matter.
“And he also wanted to write about me or something?” he asked, seeming more confused than anything.
Don’t jump into it, Pepper, I thought. Don’t spring it on him.
I wasn’t exactly a master at talking people into things, but even I knew that asking him again right after he’d turned down Penrose wasn’t the smartest idea.
“That right?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not really something I want to deal with,” he said. “More interested in seeing you.”
My face burned hot again, and my hand moved to my ear and tucked my hair behind it. God, the man had me feeling like a kid.
“Well, that’s flattering,” I said. “And…well, here I am.”
“Here you are,” he said. His eyes flicked over my body, and I got the sense he was thinking about where we’d left off the other night. Hell, I was fixated on the same thing.
A silence hung in the air, one that I would’ve loved to have been broken by us rushing across the office and into each other’s arms, ripping one another’s clothes off and picking things up right where we’d left them.
And judging by how hot and tight and tingly things were getting down below, my body was most definitely agreeing with this little scenario.
“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “What did you want to discuss?”
“I wanted to discuss the possibility of us getting together again,” he said. “Our last little hangout got pretty abruptly broken up, after all.”
“That it did,” I said.
“But now that I’ve got you here,” he said, “all to myself…”
God, the ways I wanted him to finish that sentence.
“…I just have to see you naked.”
“…I can’t help but imagine what you’d look like bent over that very impressive desk of yours.”
And so on and so on. All of which I likely would’ve replied to with a very enthusiastic “yes.”
“All I can think about is how I really think we ought to do this outside of a work setting.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I agree. What’d you have in mind?”
“You free tonight?” he asked. “Maybe around seven?”
If I did have plans, whatever had been penciled into that little slot would’ve been wiped away without a second’s thought. And I would’ve had Penrose’s blessing, too, had it been a work-type thing.
Yep. Both personally, and professionally, the man of the freaking hour was seated right across from me.
“Sounds great,” I said.
“Thinking the Gimlet up in Silver Lake,” he said. “That work for you?”
My heart was beating fast at the idea of being out with Noah. “Sure,” I said. “I think that might be…doable.”
“I like doable,” he said. His tone suggested he had in mind exactly what other meaning that word held. “Great,” he said, standing up, his tight jeans hugging his thick legs, his black Henley T-shirt stretched over his muscles, his sandy blond hair tossed rakishly around his perfect face. “I’ll see you there.
“Yes, you will,” I said.
Then he winked and was gone.
Once he was out of the room, I couldn’t do anything but sit there stunned. Sure, our meeting might’ve started in the bathroom, but ended with a date.
Me and Noah Mack. Mine, all mine.
13
NOAH
“How you feeling, Pops?”
“Nervous.”
The word just sort of came out of my mouth. I couldn’t even believe I’d said it.
But it was true. The idea of getting Pepper alone on a date had me the most excited I’d been in...a really long time. Sure, the concert had been a thrill, but this was something else.
Something I’d never felt before.
“OK,” said Sophia as she stepped around me, taking a look over my outfit. “Just be confident. Be assertive, but don’t be a jerk about it. And don’t assume that she’s OK with you opening the door and doing all that chivalrous stuff. Women like her like it when you respect their independence.”
“‘Women like her’?” I asked. “Am I really getting dating advice from my not-even-a-teen daughter?”
“It’s good advice,” she said with a smile. “And I’m right—you’ve been out of the dating scene for a while, Dad. You should take all the help you can get.”
I wanted to argue with her, but damned if she wasn’t right. It was true—the last time I’d been on a date was… I didn’t even want to think about it.
But I did, and the more I did, the more I realized how weird it was. I’d been with my fair share of girls, sure, but they were all more casual-type things. Like, can’t-remember-most-of-their-names kind of casual. Actually asking a woman out on a date and getting dressed and looking nice and all that jazz.
It was new. That’s all I could say.
“Sounds pretty solid, kiddo,” I said. “But unless I’m being extremely negligent in my dadding duties, I’m reasonably sure that you’ve actually never been on a date.”
“True,” she said.
“And you never will,” I added with a smile.
She grinned right back. “I may, um, lack experience in the field,” she said, “but I’ve done a lot of reading on the subject.”
“Don’t doubt that you have,” I said.
“And I’ve learned that the wo
man of today is strong and independent and wants men to get it. And they don’t have much patience for guys who are slow on the uptake.”
I thought about Pepper, how she looked in her office behind that desk. Sure, just a few minutes before that I’d been in the men’s room with her, the two of us surrounded by the scent of urinal cakes. But once we were in her office she was something else—totally in her element.
Sure, Sophia might’ve been a little out of her depth here, but I could tell she was right about Pepper.
“OK,” I said. “Anything else?”
“The outfit,” she said.
“Oh no,” I replied. “What about it?”
“Come on, Dad,” she said. “The band T-shirt paired with the sports jacket? What is this, Carson Daly circa 2002?”
I opened my mouth to ask how she knew about Carson Daly and that particular trend, but instead, a defense came out.
“Come on,” I said. “It’s cool. Right?”
Sophia flashed me a look, a “come on now” glance framed by her Amélie bob, as she sauntered into my closet. She returned with a dark green button-up.
“This is better,” she said. “Less like you’re trying to look too cool for school.”
She held the shirt up over my torso and, sure enough, it looked a hell of a lot better. More professional but still casual.
“Guess you’re right,” I said as I slipped out of the suit jacket and pulled the T-shirt over my head, tossing them both onto the bed.
As soon as I buttoned up the shirt I heard the front door open. Mom was back, which meant it was time for me to head out.
“See?” asked Sophia. “Much better.”
“Dang, kiddo,” I said. “What would I do without you?”
“A very good question.” She smiled.
I headed out, Mom flying past me as I left, her arms loaded down with groceries that I helped her out with.
“Big date?” Mom asked.
“Something like that,” I said.
“You look excited,” said Mom. “It’s a good look.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I feel excited.”
I meant it—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so giddy about anything.
I was ready to go. After a couple of goodbye kisses for the ladies, I was off. Minutes later I was in my Aston Martin, heading toward Gimlet. By this point the sun was beginning to dip down low, the sky a brilliant California sunset off toward the water.
A perfect summer night.
It wasn’t long before I pulled up to the place, the traffic actually on my side for once. And just like before, my stomach tingled with excitement and a little fear. It was so weird and thrilling I almost wanted to savor it.
I stepped through the front door to the place, my vision adjusting to the low light. It was a hip cocktail bar, the place populated by LA-style cool kids with sleeve tattoos and skinny jeans and all the rest. But there was only one person in that bar that I gave a shit about, and she was seated at the end, her eyes on me.
Holy moly, she looked good. Pepper’s business attire had been swapped out for a pair of tight jeans that hugged her slender-but-oh-mama-curvy-as-hell hips. Her shirt was a patterned blouse thin enough that I could make out the shape of her dark bra through it. Just risqué enough to be interesting. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was back, framing her beautiful face perfectly.
I wanted her so badly, and my little bud, the one growing harder by the second in my jeans, was right there with me. He was a tad more insistent, actually, wanting me to say “screw it” to the date and get right to what we’d almost done the other night.
“Evening,” I said, Pepper’s gorgeous eyes on me as I slid into the seat next to her.
“Evening,” she replied.
Our eyes lingered on one another’s for a few moments, and I had the distinct impression that if I did want to say “screw it” to the date like my trusty assistant wanted, she very well would’ve been down.
But this was a date. Maybe even a classy one at that. And “classy” was how I intended to keep it.
I could be a classy guy, after all. When I wanted to be.
“What’re we drinking?” I asked, my glance flicking down to her clear drink.
“Figured I’d go with the theme,” she said. “Place is called ‘Gimlet,’ after all.”
“Make that two,” I said, speaking to both Pepper and the bartender as he passed.
“So,” she said. “Here we are.”
“Here we are,” I repeated as the bartender finished my drink and placed it next to me. “Meeting a little more, ah, traditionally than before.”
She arched an eyebrow. “What,” she said. “You telling me that most people don’t meet on stage at a reunion concert for their favorite band?”
Now it was my turn to arch an eyebrow. “Favorite band, huh?” I asked.
The cool professionalism vanished for a moment, giving way to the excited fangirl I’d seen on stage the other night.
“Well,” she said, glancing away for a moment. “One of my favorite bands. Top ten, maybe.”
“Aw,” I said. “Now my feelings are hurt.”
“Why?” she asked, her tone playfully challenging. “Because you’re not my number one?”
I decided to push a little. “You sure seemed like I was at least in your top five when you were on stage,” I said. “Girls don’t make that kind of face when they’re only kind of excited.”
“What,” she asked. “You an expert in the kinds of faces girls make?”
“Only when they’re excited,” I said, leaning forward just a bit.
Her face tinged red again. I loved it.
“OK,” she said. “Maybe I was a little excited. It was a good show, you know? You guys really brought it.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking my drink into my hand. “Like to think we hadn’t gotten too rusty.”
“No,” she said. “Like you hadn’t missed a beat. Literally or figuratively.”
“Another thanks,” I said. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”
Holding her drink close to her chest, Pepper sat back in her chair and regarded me skeptically.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just trying to take it all in.”
My friend managed to, somehow, pipe the words “wouldn’t mind you taking it all in” into my head. Me, I’d never think or say something that crude. The guy down below, however, was a little more gauche like that.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“OK,” she said, as if getting ready to admit something. “I’m…kind of a big fan.”
“Good to hear,” I said. “Feels good to be honest, doesn’t it?” I flashed her a grin, and she playfully rolled her eyes.
“But as cool as it is to be here, I can’t help but wonder about what the future’s got in store for Lover Boys.”
This sounded…weird—her tone, like she was getting ready to give a PowerPoint presentation or something.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Just…like I said. You guys came back and rocked the house. It might’ve been a one-off kind of thing, but you’ve kind of been the buzz of the internet. Did you see how much you were trending the day after?”
“Never really been one for social media,” I said.
“I mean, me neither,” she said. “Kind of hate it, actually.”
“I know, right?” I asked, both excited and a little surprised that she was on board with this. “Like, I tell people that I don’t have an Instagram, and I get looked at like I’m the weird kid in school who didn’t have a TV.”
Her eyes went wide. “Yes!” she said. “And I’m like, sorry I actually enjoy experiencing things when I’m doing them and not obsessing about getting the perfect picture or whatever.”
“And doesn’t anyone actually like having a private life anymore?” I asked. “Just to do stuff for the sake of doing it and not worry about showing other people later?”
“Like a
t your show,” she said, jumping in. “Half the people there were recording the thing. And I’m just like, are you actually going to watch this later or something?” Her eyes flashed for a moment as she checked herself. “I mean, no offense. But you know what I mean, right?”
“No, totally,” I said. “Everyone’s just so concerned with making sure they don’t miss anything that they don’t actually live. I told my daughter that she’s not getting any social media until she’s sixteen or something. I want her to actually have a brief period of time where she knows how to do stuff without thinking about which filter she wants to add to the picture.”
“Your daughter,” said Pepper. “I forgot that you have one.”
“That’s on purpose,” I said. “I try to keep her as far away from all this as possible.”
“Dates?” asked Pepper with a smile.
“The whole Lover Boys thing,” I said. “I want her to be as normal a girl as possible.”
“Only so normal you can be when your dad’s Noah Mack.”
“Never got used to people saying my whole name in front of me like that,” I said with a small grin. “And people love to do it.”
“What,” asked Pepper, “think it’s weird to hear your first and last name spoken in the third person?” She grinned.
“The things people don’t think about before they get famous,” I said, shaking my head. “Back when I was younger all I cared about was the music, and I guess the girls and all that. But I just didn’t think about the other stuff.”
“Bet you’ve got a lot of interesting angles like that,” she said. “Takes on the rock-star life that most people haven’t considered.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“It’s all about the hot take these days,” she said. “It’s what gets you noticed on Twitter. Or so I hear.”
“Happy to know nothing about that,” I said before taking a sip of my drink. “Happy to be out of the game.”
“Then that’s it?” she asked. “No more Lover Boys?”
“Surprised?” I asked. I was getting the impression there was something else, something that she was dancing around.
“A little,” she said. “And disappointed, I suppose. I mean, you saw that people still love you—you guys sold out a reunion show without even trying.”
Dream Lover Page 10
