One Wicked Lick from the Drummer (The One Book 3)

by Ainslie Paton

  “How much quicker?” Because every day he second-guessed her motives was a day of her happiness overshadowed.

  “We could probably shortcut the process with a fucking good kiss.”

  She pushed away from him a little. “I’m serious. I want to start earning your trust today.” None of this would work if they papered over that crack.

  “So am I.” Both hands to her shoulders, he dipped his head so they were eye to eye. “I understand why you kept your identity secret. I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t. It would’ve been awkward if I didn’t remember you, if I was an entitled dickhead who wrote on every naked hip I met, and if you didn’t feel anything for me now.”

  “You did remember me. If I’d been honest up front, neither of us would’ve been hurt.”

  He screwed up one eye. “Eh. I had a feeling, sixth sense, but I also thought you were a cold bitch first up, not my jam. And you thought I was a wanker.”

  She almost laughed at that, the goofy expression he made. “I didn’t know if you would be and I was worried my past would reflect badly on me at work. I was deliberately cool.”

  “Fat lot of good that did you.” He took his hands away and she shivered at the loss of contact before he wrapped his arms around her, brought her body hard up against his. “I thawed you out.”

  “Like no one else could.”

  “Maybe a kiss won’t be enough, might need to be a lot more than one, on a consistent basis, because I’ve learned about planning for the long-term, analyzing my options, thinking big and minimizing my risks and I know what I want my future to be. I want a friend and a lover and a drumbeat between us, sometimes loud and strong, sometimes softer, resonant, always a steady pulse to hold us together while we chase our dreams. I could do with advice on how to get that? You can see me through the noise, Mena, and I want you in my life plan.”

  Forgiveness was a new start. Hope was music you could build a life with. “It’ll cost you.”

  He gave her that light-up-the-sky grin that made groupies swoon. “I recently learned how to budget.”

  She’d have to thank Caroline for that, and for her unnecessary two-hour appointment with Mr. Lostal Paradiso. “I’ll be nice and let you pay me in kind.”

  His arms tightened around her. “The kind where I get to take you home and make you come on my piano?”

  Her face heated and she put her finger to his lips. She could stop him talking but not the amusement lighting his eyes. It was a relief to see it and she would fight to keep it there always. She wanted this relationship so badly she couldn’t afford fall into it without making sure everything was clear between them.

  “Sometimes a good investment takes time to pay dividends. I made a selfish mistake, but my fundamentals are good, Grip.” Oh God, that sounded so not what you should say to a lover, to a man who you wanted to kiss more than you wanted your heart to keep pumping, but that serious businesslike way of thinking was a part of her, the part she’d worried he would not love.

  He caught her finger and threaded their hands together. “You’re so sexy when you talk advisor to me.”

  All the remaining tension in her let go. They had a shot at this, at something incredible. “Sometimes a good groupie can get obsessive.” That was better. That was the two halves of Philomena Grady asking Mark Grippen to believe in her.

  His brows jumped. “So long as you’re obsessive about me.”

  “About us.” She went to her toes, pressed her lips to his and paid him that first of a sextillion kisses designed to build his trust.

  That was their agenda for some time, roving hands and nonsense words and breathy sighs and lips locked as if unlocking them would stop the show. Mena’s head was swimming and her body was humming with arousal when Grip tapped the table. “What do you think? Should I start earning those dividends now?”

  He didn’t mean . . . They couldn’t.

  He laughed. “We can,” he said, reading her innermost wicked lick of desire. He was so very talented at that, amongst other things.

  Fantasy and reality collided when he maneuvered her to brace on the table, a big hot hand under her skirt to her inside thigh, he said, “We’re going to be extraordinary,” and every excited heartbeat, pleasured gasp and satisfied sigh from then on was right on the money. Their own economy of needs and wants fully satisfied.

  An investment in the best kind of future.

  Love.

  EPILOGUE

  THE BRIDESMAN

  Jay’s face was an odd color. The guy looked ready to puke, and that was not a good vibe given the need for epic history-making kissing to happen in roughly twenty minutes by Grip’s watch.

  He put both hands to Jay’s shoulders and dug his fingers into suit coat and the tight muscle underneath. “Loosen up man, this is a zero-fail event.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re green.”

  Jay heaved a breath. “I’m—shit. I’m all shaky inside.”

  Grip gave Jay what he hoped was a reassuring amount of manly massaging. “Like I said, it’s a sure thing.”

  “Nothing, nothing is ever sure.” Jay walked out of his hold, went to the dresser and picked up a hairbrush, squeezed the handle like it was him or the brush and only one of them could survive. “We convince ourselves we’re right and safe and we plunge in and hope for the best.”

  Okay, unexpected, roll with it. “If you and Evie are not a sure thing, then I have no hope getting something to stick with Mena.”

  Jay’s eyes met Grip’s in the dresser mirror. Matcha, that’s the color he was. “But you and Mena are good?” Jay said.

  “Yeah and you and Evie are everything I want to have with Mena.”

  Grip flapped his arms, trying rid himself of the heebie-jeebies. Low fuss wedding, they’d said. He’d be the bridesmaid and the best man, he’d offered. And since Evie was giving herself away and Jay wasn’t fussed about tradition, that was the deal. Easy A. Except now, here he was negotiating with an inconveniently reluctant groom while their guests were drinking Haydn Delaney’s wine cellar dry on the fantastic pool deck of the house he shared with Evie’s bestie, Teela. “You’re wigging me out, dude.”

  “So much can go wrong between two people.”

  “Holy butt fuck.” Yep, said that aloud. “Is this just stage fright or are you seriously standing here thinking doomsday thoughts about marrying the fucking love of your life?”

  “I—ah.” Jay tossed the dead brush aside and turned to face Grip. “What if it’s the wrong thing for her?”

  Grip closed his eyes tight, shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. It was a stress dream. He’d wake up with Mena’s hand on his chest and her lips kiss-ready and they’d start the day with some high impact bedroom gymnastics with sensational dismounts they’d stick.

  “Evie’s career as a songwriter is just taking off and she’s still running Tice Social. What if I’m standing in her way? What if being married drags her down.”

  He opened his eyes. Jay was still the color of Japanese tea and they were still in Hayden and Teela’s guest room and Grip was wearing a suit he’d had to have tailored. He looked suave as fuck.

  “That’s the old idea Errol sold you. Convinced you to leave Evie so she could focus on her career. It was wrong then, it’s wrong now. You both know that.” It was nearly the end of Evie’s relationship with her dad when she found out.

  Jay looked at his shoes. “What if it’s not wrong now?”

  Grip’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He stared at Jay. This was no dream and his closest friend was not messing about. “Hold on.” He took his phone out, on screen a text from Evie. We’ve got a problem.

  No shit we do.

  “Hang here,” he said to Jay. Don’t do anything but look pretty. “I’ll be back.

  He left Jay to brood and wound his way to the other side of the house where Evie was. He had to scoot past the doorway to the deck where everyone was waiting. Mena was out there. He hadn’t seen her since she devoured his
ricotta pancakes at breakfast. He almost detoured just to catch a glimpse of her all dressed up, but being the bridesman was his first responsibility, so he knocked on the door to the room where Evie was waiting and barged in.

  There were dogs, and Evie wasn’t exactly dressed like he thought a bride would be dressed but this was Evie so who knew if brides got married in black these days. It wasn’t like he was experienced at weddings.

  “What kind of a problem?” he said. He needed to scout a solution and get back to Jay, before the guy tossed his lunch and called the wedding off.

  Evie sat cross-legged on the bed, accessorized by a black Labrador sprawled in her lap. There was another dog, scruffy, breed indeterminate, on the floor by her side. It woofed. It had an excellent baritone.

  “You can’t tell from looking,” Evie said.

  Evie was her usual color and sarcasm, though her regular melody was off, like Jay’s had been and she wasn’t juggling any tech. Grip heard the jangled notes in her. “I don’t exactly know what I’m looking at.”

  She gestured and Grip turned to follow her hand to spy a wedding dress on a hanger. “It doesn’t fit?” There was a fix to that, safety pins, gaffer tape. No problem.

  “What if marrying Jay hurts his career?

  Problem. He glared at Evie. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No, no, I’m not. I am not a fan favorite. I watch his socials. His hard-core fans don’t think I’m good enough for him.”

  “You think Jay is worried about mean comments from randoms on social?”

  “No, I just—” Evie avoided his eyes and scratched the dog’s head, “I’m worried. What if being married holds Jay back?” She buried her face in dog neck.

  “From what?” Jay was the reigning king of rock, wasn’t much he couldn’t have if he asked for it. Except a stronger stomach and apparently a low fuss wedding.

  Evie straightened up. “From everything. He will put me first, you know that, and he can’t do that and still be the best.”

  Oh, fucking hell.

  He sat on the bed. The dog on the ground woofed. The one on the bed whined and whumped his tail. He was just as confused as Grip was. “Couldn’t you just have said the dress doesn’t fit?”

  “Why would I have a dress that doesn’t fit on my wedding day? It’s a Vera Chan, of course it fits.”

  “I don’t know. This is my first time as bridesman. Why would you suddenly think getting married to Jay was going to wreck his career, on your wedding day?” Why would Jay think the same thing?

  “Better on my wedding day than the day after. There’s still time to be sensible.”

  “And do what,” Grip whined. His tail was tucked somewhere between the legs of his new most fucking unlucky pants.

  “Tell him I love him but there’s no reason for us to be married. We can do everything we were doing, everything we planned, without putting a ring on it.”

  “This is just pre-getting-hitched jitters.” It was highly contagious.

  “It’s a realization but yeah, my timing sucks.”

  Chronic disaster. Buck tradition and not have bridesmaids and best men and you didn’t get a wedding either. That blew chunks. The baritone dog on the floor rolled over on his back. The one on the bed slobbered in Evie’s lap.

  Grip stood. “Don’t go anywhere.” He had to fix this and fast.

  “You don’t have to tell Jay, that’s my job.”

  “Don’t do anything. Just wait.”

  Evie quit playing with her lapdog’s ears. “Why?”

  “I’ll be back.” The other option was fetch Mena and get the fuck out of here, because this was turning into a real life panic room adventure, a reluctant bride or groom behind every door.

  “You can’t just leave me.”

  “You have fur friends. And you look like shit so you’re not going anywhere.”

  “I do not look—”

  Grip had his hand on the door. “Not arguing. Leaving.”

  “Wait.” Mega amounts of unhappiness in Evie’s voice. “How is Jay?”

  “He’s got his puke face on.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know that doesn’t mean much.” Jay’s stress went straight to his stomach and exited via his mouth on the semi-regular.

  “Or it does. What are you not telling me?”

  “Nothing.” Right now. “I need to think.”

  “You need to think. It’s not your wedding.”

  But it could be. He could be Jay, he could be Evie, thinking about how wanting to make a life with Mena was all kinds of selfish. She’d be saddled with music world chaos and that wasn’t a good fit for the strait-laced world of finance she worked in. She’d just gotten a partnership after losing it when they hooked up and one more scandal linked to him could mess that up for her. Again.

  “Stay,” he said and slipped out the door. The dogs might do as he said but he didn’t trust Evie so he had to be quick sorting this.

  He called a council of advisers. Teela and Haydn. The only couple he knew other than his own parents who had their shit together. They took shelter in a sitting room where there were two more dogs, a terrier wearing a bandana and a large brown poodle with one eye.

  “I have this problem,” he said. The poodle sidled up to him and leaned on his leg. Its head level with Grip’s hand.

  Teela got straight to it. “Jay.”

  Except Haydn said, “Evie,” and the two of them squared off.

  “Why would you say it was Evie?” Teela said.

  Haydn made a what gives gesture and said, “Why would you say it was Jay?”

  “It’s obvious it’s Jay. He left Evie once.”

  Haydn reached for Teela. “I left you once.”

  She smiled and walked into his embrace. “That was different. We weren’t really together.”

  They were going to kiss and make up in a minute and Grip didn’t have time for that. He stroked the poodle’s head. “Guys. Not helping. So not helping. Evie’s not dressed. She thinks she’d going to wreck Jay’s career. Jay is dressed, he looks ace, except for the puke green face and he thinks he’s going to wreck Evie’s career.”

  “Is that all?” Haydn asked.

  “That’s a lot,” Teela said.

  Haydn wiped a hand over his face. “Tee, sweetheart. We had that same worry. We almost weren’t a thing without getting past it.”

  Grip cut in. “How exactly did you do that?” If they told him it took months, no one was ever going to ask him to be bridesman again and he would need to drink a shitload.

  Teela looked up at Haydn. “We talked a lot.”

  “We learned how to trust each other,” Haydn said. “I knew there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Teela, but that I wasn’t a mind reader and I shouldn’t make assumptions about what she wanted from me.”

  “And I figured out that just because he’d do anything for me that didn’t mean I couldn’t speak up for myself about what I wanted.” Teela said.

  Haydn put his face in Teela’s hair. “She’d do anything for me too.”

  She sighed. “True. So many dogs.”

  One of those dogs licked Grip’s hand. “But you’re not married.” There was a sparkler the size of a small island on Teela’s finger and Grip knew from Evie that Haydn had a vasectomy reversed in case Teela should ever want kids. If that wasn’t evidence of a commitment, he didn’t know what was.

  “It’s complicated,” Teela said.

  “That is not what I want to hear right now.” Grip looked at his watch. Way off schedule.

  Haydn ran a hand through his hair. “We need to find the right time. There’s this year’s awards schedule and I don’t want to have to drag Teela along on a promo tour and she just opened a new office, and we were building this house and—”

  Bandanna dog yawned and Grip took that as his cue and cut Hollywood’s sexiest man alive off. “All I’m hearing is excuses.”

  “You’re right, Grip.” Haydn turned to Teela. “Want to get married t
oday?”

  Her eyes bugged. “Today?”

  “We have a celebrant. We have the people we love here. My dad is visiting. There’s no media circus to worry about. We can work out how to fit a honeymoon in.” He frowned. “But you don’t have the dress or the shoes.”

  She threw her arms around him. “I have everything I need. More than I ever thought possible. Let’s get married today.”

  Grip held his hands up. “Okay, okay, wigging me out.”

  “Oh no. You’re right. We can’t crash Evie and Jay’s day,” Teela said.

  “They’re crashing their own day unless I can talk some sense into them.” At least he could give the people one wedding. “Wait here. I’ll go ask.”

  He went back to Jay, his new best friend, the one-eyed poodle at his heels.

  “Where have you been?” Jay said, mid-stride, and a better color when Grip walked in. There was a track in the plush carpet where he’d been pacing.

  “The whole world peace thing, it’s not a one size fits all.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. How do you feel about Haydn and Teela getting married today as well?”

  “As well.”

  Grip slapped his forehead. “Getting ahead of myself.”

  “It is their house. Yeah, I don’t see a problem. What does Evie say?”

  Grip said, “Sit, stay,” and included the dog in that, and ignoring Jay’s protests, left to go back to Evie.

  “Where have you been?” Evie said, when he stepped into the room where she was still not doing things he thought brides would do. Both dogs were asleep on the floor and at least one of them had farted.

  He wrinkled his nose and skipped the world peace snark. “Where do you think I’ve been? Fishing?”

  “Jerking off somewhere,” she said.

  “My dick is so shriveled by all this I might never be able to get it up again.”

  She laughed. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

  “No shit. How do you feel about Teela and Haydn crashing your wedding day?”

  “Really?”