She entered the kitchen and flew out the back door to greet the delivery guy as he unloaded four crates of beans. “Where do you want these?”
She took the clipboard from the delivery guy and inspected the order before signing the invoice. Then, she returned to her office to find her friend Kira sitting in a chair browsing yesterday’s paper.
“Great headline, right?” Kira commented, looking up and grinning. “‘Crooning for Coffee’!”
“I know!” Lacey agreed and collapsed into her rolling chair. She leaned back. “I wonder how Dean Anderson will do tonight.” She’d booked a local guy from five to seven before Billy’s set.
“The indie rocker? I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Kira tossed the newspaper on the desk and tucked a leg under her. “Now tell me about your first night with Billy.”
Lacey laughed. “It wasn’t like that.”
Kira arched a brow. “Admit it. You’ve wanted him since college!”
Lacey closed her eyes. She saw Billy onstage, steel gaze and sincerity in his songs. She saw him sweating in the hospital, laughing in the moonlight on the beach, and panting her name in her kitchen. “I don’t want to want him.”
“Why not? He’s hot and available. You’re both adults.”
“I don’t want to get hurt.”
“Then don’t sleep with him.” Kira grinned and her eyes narrowed. “Or sleep with him knowing it’s a one-night stand. You know? Get him out of your system.”
She couldn’t listen to Kira. Her friend advised her to do exactly what she needed to avoid. If she slept with him, it wouldn’t mean anything to him, and she’d be just one in a long string of women. Rather than ponder her desire to pounce on him, she needed to focus on solidifying the success of her café. Clicking open her web browser, she redirected her attention. “I have to order the other supplies now.”
“Okay. That’s a good excuse.” Kira chuckled and stood.
Lacey waited until Kira left the office before she dropped her head into her hands. Damn. She did like him, but what the hell did she think would happen? She had to face facts. He was only temporary. And she gave up one-night stands in college.
Her phone buzzed. “This is Lacey.”
“It’s Beth. Are you sitting down?”
“Yes.”
“We have a meeting.”
Lacey pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. There was only one kind of meeting Beth could possibly mean. “No! With Simon?”
“Apparently Simon’s business manager, James, stopped in last night with Tish. He was impressed.”
Lacey hopped up from the chair and silently screamed. “Really? That’s fantastic!”
“It’s for tomorrow morning. Are you going to be okay?”
“Oh my gawd! I’ve got this.” She had no idea what to wear. “Wait. The Fourth of July?”
“Yes. Nine a.m. My office.”
“I’ll be there at eight thirty.”
Beth laughed. “If you’re coming that early, bring coffee.”
Chapter Five
Lacey danced around her office. Simon agreed to meet her. His business manager liked the café. This was her shot. Her second chance. And she wouldn’t let anything ruin it.
At some point, Chip showed up and she led him upstairs to where Billy camped out on her sofa, scribbling in his notebook. Dean arrived—on time—set up on stage, and played his first set. Patrons filtered in, ordered, and left. No one complained, but it became quite clear to her that the success of her previous two nights was rooted in Billy’s presence. Billy had the customers staying and ordering second rounds and third plates of appetizers.
Even though Dean had talent, he was just a kid and didn’t have the added allure to hold the random passersby. From five to seven she was competing with the restaurants offering early bird specials and bars with happy hour, and even though she knew she couldn’t keep Billy forever, she needed him now.
But rather than face him, she dialed his cell. He answered on the second ring. “Billy here.”
“I know it’s early, but I need you to come downstairs. There’s no one here.” She felt like a failure to admit she couldn’t succeed without him, but this was her baby, her dream, and she’d sacrifice a little bit of her pride if it landed her on the good side of profit for the night.
“What do you mean no one’s there? Your guy didn’t show up? I can hear someone.”
“No.” She swallowed and peeked out the blinds to the front of the house. “I mean the customers. They’re not staying. He’s good, but they’re just not staying.” She closed her eyes and admitted, “He’s not you. Could you please come down here?” Damn, could she sound any more desperate?
“You want me to play? I can’t just kick the guy off stage.”
Damn. Dean had an hour of stage time left. But… “Then just sit at the bar. That will be enough.”
She swore she heard him scoff. “What’s that going to do?”
Cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she moved to the other side of the room and sank into her chair. “People don’t come to listen to you play.”
“That’s insulting.”
He still hadn’t said no. She pressed, “They come to see you.”
“Me just showing up is not going to bring you customers.”
“I think it will. Please.” People used celebrities all the time to draw the public’s interest. If her customers saw Billy sitting at the bar, they might be inclined to wander in and stay longer.
“You want me to just sit at the bar?”
She smiled. He’d do it. He was thinking about it. She could hear him moving around, and Chip in the background asking what was going on. “Um, yeah. Just sit at the bar.”
“Okay.”
The pounding tension switched to a thumping excitement. “Great. Great!” She was only excited that he agreed to her plan, not that she would get to see him again.
His warm voice seduced her ears, even as he issued one final comment. “But Lacey? I’m only showing up on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“Have dinner with me.”
…
He heard her sharp intake of breath and then a faint, “Okay.”
“Be right there.” He hung up the phone and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans.
Whatever prompted him to ask her to dinner propelled him into motion. He whipped on his plaid, short-sleeved, button-down shirt and dragged both hands through his hair. He’d been writing the whole day, and he’d managed to scratch out another song, but he still wasn’t happy with “Temporary Guest.” It needed more, and he’d been frustrated for the last three hours. Getting out of the apartment would do him some good.
“Where are you going?” Chip closed the lid to his laptop and stood. “You’ve got an hour before showtime.”
“Downstairs. Lacey wants me to sit at the bar.”
He slipped into his boots, but without his guitar, he felt nearly naked as he tromped down the stairs. Chip followed but slipped out the back door with an, “I’ve got to take this call.”
Billy hadn’t even heard the phone ring. He reworked some lyrics in his head as he wandered through the kitchen.
The assistant manager nodded her…what? Approval?
He scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced around for Lacey, and as she emerged from her office, he noted the anxiety across her face. “Thanks for coming down early. Is Chip still up there?”
“He took a call outside.”
She ushered him to the front of the house. “Just sit here. What can I get you?”
She placed him on the end bar stool closest to the open doors.
“Coffee, black,” he requested, only half jesting.
This time, instead of the icy stare, she actually smiled. “Should have known.”
She moved past Timmy, her barista, and disappeared into the kitchen. No sooner had she left him alone than two women almost passed him before pausing.
One of the
m approached him. “We thought you weren’t playing until later.”
He confirmed, “I’m not. Just a customer for now.”
The second one stepped forward. “Well, if you’d like to go for a drink somewhere—”
He could guess where that sentence was heading. “I think I’m good right here.”
The two women pouted. “Could we at least have a picture with you?”
He grinned. “Sure thing.”
Lacey emerged with his coffee. “I’ll take it,” she offered. “Would you mind e-mailing it to me? I’d like to make a wall of photos.” She gestured to a blank wall with a border like a movie reel.
The first woman gushed, “You’re going to put our picture there?”
She nodded. “I wish I thought of it sooner. I’d like to fill the space with photos of my customers and the performers.” She handed the woman a card. “Please e-mail it to me.”
“Absolutely! We better find a table for the show.”
The women moved to a booth, and Lacey punched him in the arm. “It’s working!” Then, she disappeared again.
Billy sipped on his coffee. The kid on stage had a nice vocal quality, but Billy didn’t recognize any of the songs. If they were originals, he had some work to smooth out the lyrics. A waitress brought him an appetizer platter. “These are from Lacey. Just let me know if you need more.”
“Thanks…” He recognized her from the first night but didn’t know her name.
“Carly.”
He nodded. “Carly.”
She moved toward another table, and he swiveled sideways and studied the offerings. But before he could try the barbecue chicken pieces, in his peripheral vision, he saw an arm stretch out and a finger point. “See! I told you!”
Five women entered and approached him. “Can you sign something for us?”
He grinned. “Sure can.”
One of the women held out her arm. “We missed you last night. Are you going to play that song tonight?”
He scrawled his name across her skin. “In about an hour. I’m just hanging out for now.”
“So the tweet was right.”
First YouTube and now Twitter. Considering he hated the Internet, barely posted any status updates, he might owe it an apology for helping relaunch his career. “Tweet?”
“Yeah, someone tweeted you were chilling at the bar.”
The second woman reiterated, “Alone.” She sidled up next to him. “So does that mean this seat is taken?” Without waiting for an answer, she climbed up, her skirt slithering dangerously high.
The first woman showed him the tweet on her phone.
Holy hotness! Billy Hardy is sitting at the bar at Lacey’s Café. Ladies, he looks lonely. #BillyHardy
He didn’t know @imaginenobox, but he certainly owed her a huge thanks.
The other three crowded around him, and he guessed they were in their late thirties. He’d learned South Beach had two types. Easygoing and high maintenance. While Lacey’s Café hinted at easy going, these women wore typical South Beach theatrics. Tiny dresses, fake tits, and high heels. They’d dressed to show off their expensive bodies, and in a previous life, he might have shown his appreciation. But he couldn’t afford to give them the wrong impression, and his number-one priority was his squeaky-clean image.
Another group of women entered and waved at Billy before taking a seat. Several couples also slid into the empty tables along the wall. With the end of each song, the applause increased in volume, and Billy chatted but remained professional with each person who approached him.
They laughed at his jokes, clapped for Dean, and ordered the priciest dainty desserts and bottled water. Lacey wandered by with a huge grin on her face.
One brunette clung to his arm. “Let’s dance.”
He frowned. The one person he wanted to dance with was Lacey, and she looked pretty busy conversing with customers, so instead he gave his best apologetic grin and said, “I wish I could, but my manager insists I not embarrass myself in public.”
As if on cue, Chip entered and sidled up to Billy. “We have to talk.”
Immediately the pouts and pleading came from all directions, but eventually the women relented and formed a loose huddle to dance with each other. Billy nodded to Chip and suggested, “Dressing room?”
Before the Shawna fiasco, the record deal, and the rise to almost fame, he’d never quite acclimated to the groupies. But these women differentiated themselves from the others he’d known. These ladies didn’t focus solely on him. He liked that. He felt comfortable with that.
When he passed Lacey, he leaned into her ear. “Do you tweet?”
“Of course I eat!”
He grinned and pulled her closer. With his nose buried in her hair, he caught the sweet scent of sugar and coconuts. “Tweet! As in Twitter?”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “No. But Megan does. I should. To promote business.”
Megan. The assistant manager. “I think she’s already promoting for you.”
Lacey’s eyebrows rose, and Billy pulled up the tweet on his phone. Lacey squinted into the backlit screen and then squealed, clapping her hands in front of her mouth. “I need to give that girl a raise!”
“So I guess your plan worked,” he admitted.
She bobbed her head. “I know! This is fabulous! I owe you big time.”
She crushed him in a hug, and he almost lost his balance. She squeezed her arms around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides. He felt her breast flatten against his biceps, and he realized the unfairness of the situation. He couldn’t hit on Lacey in the café in front of her customers. But once they got home…
He swore under his breath and calculated his chances of sneaking out to buy condoms.
…
Lacey closed her office door and gave a fist pump. Three nights in a row closing at her intended benchmark. She had complete and utter confidence going into her meeting with Dimistar Enterprises tomorrow, especially with the solid numbers. She wanted to celebrate.
Her gaze slid over the brown paper bag Kira had slipped into her office with the words, “Just in case.” Lacey kept thinking how they’d almost done it, and she hated fighting her indecision about how to act.
She’d dreamed about sex with him since college, only then it hadn’t even been a possibility. She might not trust men, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t enjoy him while he was here. And if her heart sped up a little at the thought of his deep baritones grunting her name, well, she didn’t deny her femininity.
Her decision made, she grabbed the bag but dropped it when Chip entered her office. “Where’s Billy?”
“He’s not out there?” She peeked through the window to the front of the darkened house. The last of her staff finished wiping down the tables. “Is everything all right?”
She couldn’t mistake Chip’s excitement when he yelled, “All right? Everything is fucking fantastic! I need to find him! He can’t pass up this opportunity!”
“What opportunity?”
“He didn’t tell you?” Chip looked as surprised as she felt. The manager’s voice softened, but his eyes bulged with excitement. “Lacey, he’s interested a high-profile producer. This guy Meyers wants to get Billy in a recording studio and on the airwaves.”
Something clammy crawled along her bare arms. Billy was going to leave her. Instinct had her thinking the worst kind of betrayal, and she closed her eyes and asked, “Is he breaking contract?” She opened her eyes and caught sight of her binder of bills. Her tongue thickened in her mouth.
It couldn’t happen that quickly. Executives took time. They planned meetings. They scheduled discussions. They did not just contact the singer’s manager and whisk him out from under her nose. Anger knotted in her gut. She hadn’t even slept with him.
Mentally smacking her forehead at that errant thought, she listened as Chip evaded answering her question. “It’s difficult to book studio time, Lacey. We were lucky there was an opening. Another artist canceled f
or tomorrow. I have to get him on a plane.”
She shook her head. “No. He signed a contract.” Tomorrow was the Fourth of July. She needed him here. She had a whole Independence Day celebration planned.
“I’ll buy him out of it.”
A flicker of anxiety coursed over her. She’d never find someone so soon and at such a cut rate. Her meeting was tomorrow. Her investor wouldn’t want her. She was screwed.
Panic froze her. Trapped in her office, there was no escape. She needed to confront him. Right now. But first she had to find him.
“Chip, I have to go.”
“Lacey, I already called a cab. I need to find him before I go back to the hotel. He doesn’t know about the urgency of the deal. I need him on a plane first thing tomorrow morning.”
“No. Call him later.”
She dashed out of the office. Then she smoothed down her hair and took the side hall to the dressing room.
She entered without knocking and found him on the sofa, the guitar in his lap.
He shot her a cocky grin. “Full house tonight.”
She read his body language. He thought he was amazing. He thought she owed him since he’d been the magnet to attract the crowd. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did owe him. All he’d asked for was dinner, but if he left, they’d never go on their date. Emotions rioted inside of her. She had so much to say.
She felt so sad for what they’d never have. “You.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “Me.”
She gestured toward the discarded phone. “Chip.”
He cocked his head. “Chip?”
All the frustration and anxiety about opening a café slammed into her. Fear clogged her throat, and she blinked at the odious sting of unwanted tears. Her mood must have finally penetrated his thick skull, because he set aside his guitar before regarding her warily.
After several deep huffs, she managed to swallow back her heartache and pin him with an accusatory glare. “You’re leaving.”
The shock on his face didn’t help her. She wanted to wring his neck. How dare he give her a false sense of security? How dare he waltz into her coffeehouse, sing in that sexy voice, and make her want him? She squeezed her eyes tight. She wanted to scream.
Reforming the Cowboy Page 5
