He rests his forehead against mine, lowering his hands to my hips. “I can go as slow, fast, hard and long as you need me to.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “I’m guessing no one has ever asked you to take it slow with them before.”
“Let’s just say you’re the first I’m willing to take it slow with, if that’s what you need.”
“Depends which part of me I pay attention to.”
“I’m going to pay attention to every single inch of you.”
“Okay, well. Lines like that aren’t helping.”
“It’s not a line.” He cups my face in his hands. His eyelids are so heavy—and not just because those eyelashes are such a burden. “Just tell me what you want from me right now and you’ll get it.”
And now my eyes close as I take a deep breath, trying to hang on to this final moment where I still have both of us convinced that I’m a relatively cool person who isn’t drunk and has her shit together.
Here we go.
Alohomora.
I tilt my chin up to give him a quick kiss on the lips, and then take one of his hands and pull him with me, to the empty parking lot. By the time we’ve turned the corner, Nico is the one pulling me. When we’re far enough into the lot, my shoulders are suddenly against the wall, and he’s pulled my hair to one side. The warmth of his mouth on my exposed neck makes my highly charged body go limp for a few delicious seconds. Hands on my hips, he kisses his way down my neck. My hips come alive again and my back arches. Those tipsy fingers frantically explore his hair and the impossibly sexy stretch of skin on the back of his neck just above the collar of his leather jacket. When my hand gives the back of his head the slightest hint that he can—he lowers his hungry mouth and slides his possessive hands to my breasts, kissing them through my shirt, tugging my shirt and bra down and to the side so he can really give me what I want right now.
“Am I going slow enough for you?” His breath is hot on my skin and I can tell he’s smiling.
I laugh, and the husky voice that comes from deep in my throat or somewhere much deeper inside of me is one that I haven’t heard in years. “Trust me, you’re doing everything right.”
And then, something comes over me, and I do the exact opposite of what I did in the parking lot of The 101 Coffee Shop.
I push him back and jump his perfect sexy bones.
He catches me and cups my ass cheeks, my legs cling-wrapped around his waist while I wrestle with his jacket, maniacally trying to pull it down his shoulders while French kissing him at the same time. If people were to walk by, they would probably think I was mugging him. And if they tried to stop me, I would punch them in the nuts because I’ve got about three minutes, all the hormones, and zero marbles left in my head.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I explain, while sliding one hand under his shirt. My eyeballs roll back inside my head because Dear God his skin is smooth and warm and pulled tight over lean muscles and I bite his neck just once before saying, “Not tonight.” I lick him, from his neck up to his jaw, then suck on his lower lip.
I’m whining and whimpering like a lonely puppy who’s trying to open a closed door. “Oh shit,” I sigh, between kisses. Seriously, this probably feels about as hot to him as getting his leg humped by an out of control poodle. But I can’t stop. I catch his earlobe between my teeth and tug and suck on it. Goddamit. Even his earlobes are sexy. “To be clear—I definitely want to have sex with you at another time.”
He grunts in response, and I have no idea what it means but I feel it everywhere.
“Can we do that?” My fingers find his hard nipple and tweak it.
“Yes,” he says. “Jesus.”
“You still want to?” I reach around to his back, clawing at it.
“Fuck, yes.”
“Because I really want to.”
“Kat, you’re driving me crazy.” He buries his face in my neck and I feel my back pressed against the wall again.
“I didn’t mean to.” God, I’m so breathy and porny-voiced. “We should stop. Should we stop?”
He nods and kisses my cheek, slowly releasing my butt, sliding his hands up to my waist as my feet find the ground.
Shit.
Are we stopping?
We’re stopping.
My chest is heaving, but I try to catch my breath and help him get his jacket back on, as if that will make him forget the way I just tried to strip him and eat him alive.
My hand accidentally slides down the front of his jacket to the front of his jeans, and lord almighty—what have I done? Either he’s hiding a beer bottle in there or I really am driving him crazy. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” I cover my mouth.
“I’ve got it under control,” he says.
“Okay. But I’m so sorry, that was—”
“We don’t have to keep talking about it.”
“Nico.” I reach out for the bulge, wanting to somehow ease the pain, but he catches my hand midair and shakes his head just once. “Right. Sorry.” Not here, not now.
He exhales slowly, and my brain time travels ahead to tomorrow morning when I’ll remember what happened here and will want to die from embarrassment. Except I can’t, because I have to take my son to school.
“Oh God,” I mumble. “I just assaulted you.”
“No, I was definitely askin’ for it,” he says, his voice tense, eyes still friendly. “You are full of surprises, Katherine.”
“Dempsey,” I say, adjusting my own jeans. “Kat Dempsey.” At your service.
“Kat Dempsey,” he breathes. “I like it.”
“I like you,” I say, because at this point there’s no use trying to hide it.
“I really like you too.”
Fuck it, I can’t stop myself.
I grasp at his jacket, pulling him to me again, kissing his beautiful mouth. He kisses me back, harsh and gentle at the same time, both of us moaning.
“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” he mutters.
I sigh. “I want you to do so many things to me, just not tonight.”
“When?”
“Um?” I’m trying to picture my Google calendar again, but the only image my sexed-up brain will conjure up is of Nico’s head between my legs.
My hand seems to have wandered down to the bulge in his jeans again.
“Oops.”
He steps back.
“Sorry.”
Out of the corner of my eye I can see the headlights of a car that’s pulling up to the curb nearby, and my phone vibrates.
“My ride’s here.”
“Fucking Uber.”
I rest my hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yep. I’m gonna go back inside to close out my tab in a minute. Say goodbye to everyone.”
“Do you want me to wait with you?”
“Nope.” He slowly takes a step toward me, cupping my face again, this time a little more hesitantly. He kisses me, once. Quickly, on the lips. The way you’d kiss an antique grenade that may or may not explode in your face. “Good night. Text me so I know you got home okay.”
“Okay. Good night.” I smooth down my hair, straighten my clothes and calmly walk to the car as though I totally did not just drop a messy sex bomb on Nico Todd in the middle of a dark parking lot.
KAT’S VIDEO DIARY – May
TATE: Mom. Mom. Mommy. Mom.
KAT: Hmph?
TATE: Lou said wake you up.
KAT: Wha? Whutimeizzit? I’m up. Hi.
TATE: Hi.
KAT: Oh God. Turn that off.
TATE: Your hair looks really funny.
KAT: I took a shower before bed. It didn’t dry all the way. Hey. You’re all dressed. What time is it?
TATE: Lou said you had fun last night.
KAT: Is that mustard and ketchup on your face?
TATE: Haha yes. Knock knock.
KAT: Who’s there?
TATE: Hot dog.
KAT: Hot dog who?
TATE: Ho
t dog for me and hot dog for you! We’re having hot dogs for breakfast! Lou said we need to mix things up.
KAT: She did, did she? Oh dear. How’s your tooth?
TATE: She had to cut up the hot dog for me to eat. It feels weird. But okay. Did you have fun with your friend?
KAT: Yeah. I did. Did you beat Lou at Mario Party?
TATE: I always do. You’re smiling crazy, Mom.
KAT: What?! I’m just happy to see you.
TATE: Lou said you need to go out for fun more. Are you going to?
KAT: I don’t know. How would you feel about it if I did?
TATE: If you do, can I go to magic camp in the summer?
KAT: Bargaining, huh?
TATE: I want to learn the cupped balls trick.
KAT: I think it’s called the cups and balls trick, honey. Cups and balls. Ugh. I think I may have made the King of Clubs disappear again last night.
TATE: Whaaaa?
KAT: (yawning) Nothing. Never mind. Let’s go get me a wiener.
TATE: You’re weird today, Mom.
KAT: Yeah. I know.
NICO TODD SONGWRITING JOURNAL – May
That first kiss was the end of me.
And the beginning of us.
* Christ. My songs are supposed to articulate the things that I can’t say out loud to someone in person, but I can’t even sing those words. It’s not just that they’re cheesy as fuck. They’re so true it hurts. I’m a goner. I don’t know what ‘us’ means, and I don’t know if she wants me to be a part of her and her son’s world, and I barely even know what that world is like, but I want in.
10
Nico
“How are the twins?”
Shane looks up from his menu like I’ve just said something in a foreign language. “My twins?”
“No, Mary Kate and Ashley. How are Summer and Lucky doing?”
“Summer and Lucky are good. They got their orange belts in karate last week.”
“That is so badass.”
“You want to see a video of the ceremony?”
“No but tell me their birthday. I’ll put it in my phone.”
Take that, Willa.
I open up my calendar app, and as soon as I do, I get this queasy feeling in my stomach. My upcoming schedule is insane. Since we were about twenty, I’ve been looking at Shane’s life and seeing all the things I didn’t want because I didn’t think it was right for me—lifetime career as an actor, marriage, kids. But now that he’s married to my sister, instead of the woman he accidentally knocked up when he was twenty-one, I see how happy he is. He’s getting ready to shoot a movie but he’s not stressing out about it because he’ll always have Willa and the twins to come home to. For that, I now envy him.
“Hey, you still haven’t…” He waggles his eyebrows. “Since I last saw you, have you?”
“No, I have not. But I did have a—” I lower my voice, “—somewhat frantic physical encounter in a parking lot last night.”
“With Waitress Mom?”
“Her name is Kat Dempsey, and she is a professional photographer and documentary filmmaker.”
“Sorry. With Kat Dempsey?”
“Of course, with Kat. No one else interests me anymore. I should be completely stoked about my tour right now, but all I can think about is how shitty it will be to not see her for two months.”
“Aww, snookums. Wait—you’re going on tour?”
“In like three weeks. Your mom’s coming to my show in Phoenix. How do you not remember that?”
“Oh yeah. I did—you told me, and I remembered and then I forgot. But in my defense—twins. Do you have time to come for dinner before you leave?”
“No, I don’t. You see—this is why it’s time for me to cultivate my own little circle of people. You guys don’t give a shit about me anymore.”
“That is not true. I mean, yes, it is time for you to have your own people. But we still give a lot of shits about you. We just keep forgetting about half of them.”
“So here’s what I’m thinking…”
I have to pause and wait until after we order, to tell Shane what I’m thinking. The downside to meeting this guy for lunch when I want to talk to him about something is that servers are so attentive when we’re together. When the waitress has finally left our table, I lean in to continue, but he cuts me off.
“Let me guess. You want to hire Kat to be your official photographer on the tour.”
“And videographer. To shoot a behind the scenes documentary for my fans. How’d you know that?”
“Because I know you. And while you may be going through this beautiful transformation into a monogamous but still very horny butterfly, your brain still works the same.”
“I already ran it by my business manager as a possible scenario, and money-wise, it’s fine. With all the sponsorships—I mean, the money I make from merch alone will cover it. And if I charge like seven ninety-nine per download on my website when it’s done—blammo. Worth it. Great investment.”
“That’s awesome, man. Don’t do it.”
I knew he was going to say that. “But here’s the thing—I was looking at her website last night—her friend told me about it after Kat left. This woman is amazing. She is so talented.” I pull up Kat’s website on my phone and show it to Shane, with as much pride as he usually has when he shows me pictures of his kids. “Her eye is incredible. She sells landscape prints on Etsy, but she also does freelance work. Look at those portraits. Look at those headshots. But especially, look at these clips from the passion project she’s working on.”
“Okay, hang on.” He scrolls through the images. “These are really good. I like the way she uses natural light.”
“Yes. But this documentary she’s working on—she’s interviewing moms about what they were like before they had kids and how they’ve changed since becoming parents.”
“Okay, that’s cool.”
“And I love the way she shoots people. The candid shots? I want her to shoot me like that.”
“I get it,” he says, nodding appreciatively as he hands my phone back to me. “She is very, very talented.” He leans forward to say, “Do not hire her for the tour.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a terrible idea.”
“Is it, though?”
“Hang on.” He pulls out his phone. “I’m gonna order you a DVD of Jerry Maguire.”
“I’ve seen Jerry Maguire.”
“Have you watched Jerry Maguire, or have you Netflixed and Chilled with some girl while Jerry Maguire was on? Big difference.”
“I don’t remember the details, but I’m not going to ‘shoplift the pootie.’ Okay? I care about this woman. I want her around, that’s the whole point. This woman, she… Yes—I want her. I think about doing absolutely filthy things to her all the time, and I like talking to her. But it’s not only that. She’s so talented and she’s living with her mom and working the late shift at a coffee shop so she can be there for her kid when he’s awake, and then she’s doing all these side hustle gigs… But I can give her this opportunity to really do her thing. I’m not saying documenting my tour is some big amazing break for anyone, but it’s something.”
“Yes. Great. It’s beautiful that you want to help her out. But wait until you get back from the tour before starting up with her. If you want someone to document it, that person should be somewhat objective and impartial, and you should not be trying to bone her when she’s interviewing you.”
“I have never once tried to bone anyone while they were interviewing me. And there’s no such thing as an objective, impartial documentary.”
“But there is such thing as shit getting real. You’ll have sex with her and then things will get complicated. You’ll run into all those women you’ve ‘met’ on the road before and she’ll see, and maybe she’s the jealous type or maybe she isn’t, but eventually things will get messy and then they’ll be over.”
“There aren’t that many women I’ve ‘met’ on
the road before.”
“If you say so. But something is bound to happen if you’re thrown together like that for weeks at a time, in close quarters.”
“Trial by fire. I’m up for it. She knows I’m not a virgin. Neither is she. If we’re together, we’ll both find out about each other’s past hookups eventually anyway. We’ll work shit out. That’s what grown-ups do. Right?”
“I love that you feel that way, and I stand by what I said before about you both being ready when you’re ready. But there’s that and then there’s the fact that she’s a mom and she’ll feel protective of her kid, and then there’s her working for you in an intimate way like that when you’re just starting to get to know each other—while traveling across the country in a bus for what I’m assuming is your biggest tour ever...”
I groan and scrub my face with my palm and then stare up at the ceiling. I knew he was going to say all of these things, and my own manager already said them to me on the phone earlier, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear it from my best friend.
“Hey.” He looks so fucking earnest right now I want to cradle him in my arms and kiss him on his adorable smug married forehead. “I want this to work out for you, just…don’t hire an attractive woman to work for you if you care about her at all.”
Charmer Page 8
