I slow my pace as I google Mason Hart.
Images pop up first, and my pulse spikes as I stare at a carousel of shots. I’m like a dirty old woman perving on a teenager, but holy smokes. Teenage Campbell was crazy hot. With the thickest head of hair I’ve ever seen, and just that perfect amount of forehead flop, his locks could not have been more tailor-made for a pop sensation. But his face was to die for. His jaw looks like it’s never met a blade, and he’s bathing in fresh-faced, boyish charm. He’s so dang good-looking and swoony in a Tiger Beat, teenage-wet-dream kind of way.
But he’s also quite different from adult Mason. Or Campbell, I should say. With sinewy muscles, inked arms, delicious stubble, and sexy-as-fuck crinkles around his eyes, he’s handsome as hell now.
And all man.
One hundred percent rough, sexy, dirty man.
And I can’t sleep with him again.
A tear pricks the back of my eye. Or maybe that’s my sex drive crying me a river and cuing the sad trombone. “How is it that a former pop star becomes a music teacher?” I mutter as I stuff the phone back into my pocket.
“From what Barinholtz told me, he always planned to teach. Pay it forward, if you will.” Jamison slows at the corner and stops, leveling me with his gaze. “Do you have a problem with him, Mack?”
Uh-oh.
Time to dial down the inquisition. Time to turn it all the way off. If I let on I know Kyle’s new teacher in the biblical sense, Jamison will never let me live it down. I shake my head and fasten on an all-is-well smile. I don’t want Jamison to know the new teacher is the reason I was glowing on the ride to camp.
“I was just surprised and processing everything. But he looks great,” I say, waving my phone. “His bio is compelling.”
So are his photos.
“He really is talented, and he’s built a reputation as a stellar teacher,” Jamison adds, resuming our pace.
“He seems totally stellar.” In the sack.
“I think as long as Kyle gets along with him, he’ll be a great choice, and that’s not simply because of his background. But I did get a kick out of who he was.”
I got a kick out of him fucking me, and now that’s over.
“I completely loved the Heartbreakers,” Jamison continues. “Sometimes I still listen to their tunes.”
“Oh yeah, me too,” I say lightly, even though that’s not true. I can’t remember the last time I heard one of their songs.
“Good. Because I was worried there.” Jamison grabs his beeping phone from his pocket and swipes his finger across the screen before grimacing. “Crap. I need to get to the office. Our leading lady sprained an ankle, and we open in a week.”
I shoo him toward the nearest subway. “Go, go. You must save Chicago.”
He drops a kiss to my forehead. “Let me know how everyone thinks the lesson went, and if we should keep it up.”
“Of course,” I say, then I wander around his neighborhood for the rest of the hour, my mind occupied the whole time with disappointment that my date on Saturday can’t happen. Dating my son’s music teacher would be a Bad Idea. If things didn’t work out with us, I’d be stuck seeing him for every lesson. It would be awkward for me, but potentially worse for Kyle. I don’t want to risk him losing a shot at working with a musical genius just because I want to bang that teacher. And I don’t want to fire Campbell simply so I can sleep with him. That seems a tad, how shall we say, selfish?
I return to Jamison’s building, using my key to let myself into the apartment.
As soon as the door opens, Kyle’s laughter meets my ears. “That’s awesome. I’ve always wanted to learn that song.”
“If you can master the Brahms, I will teach it to you.”
“Promise?” Kyle asks.
“Dude. Consider it a blood oath.”
“All right. I’m holding you to it.”
A smile stretches across my face as I watch Campbell shake hands with my son.
“How did it go?” I ask.
Please say it was awful and you can’t imagine working together, and that moment I just witnessed was the only time you got along during the entire lesson.
WAIT. Bad Mackenzie. Don’t wish for that.
Kyle beams. “It was awesome. He listened to me play, and then he showed me how to mesh Bach with Jay-Z.”
Campbell shrugs. “Just some rock melodies that sound pretty rad on the violin.”
Kyle laughs. “You do know no one says ‘rad’ anymore, right?”
Campbell scratches his head. “Nope, but I hear I’m not cool either. That’s what my daughter tells me.”
I suppress another smile as I think of our text exchange last night. Neither one of us is cool at all.
Campbell locks eyes with me, and a thousand dirty thoughts flash through my mind. Him bending me over the counter. Fucking me on the counter. Putting me on my hands and knees on my bed.
Those images slip and slide with others. The tenderness he showed in bed when we talked. The questions he asked me. The texts we shared about music, trivia, kids, and more.
We connected physically, but we also started to spark emotionally. He’s the first man I’ve been this excited to go on a date with in years.
As he talks about Kyle’s potential, his raw talent, and where he sees him going, I can tell exactly why Campbell’s good at teaching—there’s a confidence, an ease, and an excitement in his voice. I can tell, too, that Kyle likes him, since he’s listening, and nodding, and smiling.
“That sounds great. I’ll talk to Kyle, and I can circle back to confirm another lesson,” I say, and the subtle message should be clear—I want to make sure the kid likes him too.
But the kid cuts in. “Mom, it’s all good. I like Campbell. I’m ready to schedule more lessons. You don’t have to quiz me privately to find out what I really thought. He challenged me in ways no one has in a long time, so I’m cool with him.”
I laugh. “Way to blow my cover.”
Kyle smiles as he grabs his violin case. “Taylor just texted me. We snagged an extra hour today to practice at the community center, and then we want to play some video games at his house. Can I go see him before dinner?”
“Get out of here,” I say, gesturing to the door, glad he wants to both make music and hang out with his friends in his string quartet. The community center is close enough that he can walk. “I’ll swing by Taylor’s house later to get you.”
He scoots out, and that leaves me alone with the man I want to date but can’t.
Silence cocoons us. Awkwardness slinks between us. I stand five feet away from the man who’s seen me naked, and I’m dying to know what he’s thinking and if his thoughts are as discombobulated as mine.
Campbell holds my gaze. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world.”
“Yeah, some luck this is,” I say, dejectedly.
“I had no idea you were his mother.”
“Yeah, same here.” I tap my chest. “Well, I know I’m his mother, but I had no clue you were going to be his teacher.”
His voice is soft and caring when he crosses the living room and sets his hand on my arm. “Would you rather find another teacher? I understand if you don’t want me around, if it feels too weird. But I meant what I said. I’ve never seen a kid with such raw talent.”
I groan, wishing he’d say anything but that. I mean, I do want that. I just wish this weren’t so frustrating. “How are you a pop star, and a guitar player, and a music teacher?” I blurt out, because I’m still amazed he’s a triple threat.
“I was going to tell you all of that on Saturday night.”
“You had your talking points mapped out for our date?”
“I was worried that without them we’d have nothing to say,” he says drily. “But to answer your question in a nutshell, I’m really musical. It’s in my blood. It’s in my soul. I can play five instruments. I started with violin at age four, added piano at six, and then decided I wanted to learn guitar because i
t was cool. Picked that up when I was twelve. Added bass after.”
“That’s definitely a prodigy.”
He shrugs sheepishly.
“What’s the fifth instrument though?”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “Wait till you see me play the glockenspiel.”
I crack up. “Now I’m even sadder, since that would have been quite a sight—you on that tiny little instrument.”
“But like I said, I can step aside if you prefer.”
Is he asking if I’d rather date him instead of keeping him as my son’s teacher? “Do you mean you’d step aside so we could date?” I ask, but even as I say the words, they sound horribly selfish and completely antithetical to who I am as a mom. I was barely giving myself permission to date him when he wasn’t my son’s new teacher.
“But even if you didn’t want to date, I could excuse myself, if you will, if any of this made you uncomfortable,” he says, gesturing from him to me.
I drag a hand through my hair. The prospect of dating him is far too delicious for my own good. But if he canceled as the teacher, I’d have to explain to Jamison and Kyle, and really, it’s far too new a thing between Campbell and me for that kind of conversation. Hey, I fired our teacher since I banged him and want to see if there’s anything there besides a second or third screw. K, thanks.
I sigh heavily, and the sound is laced with regret. “Look, as much as I want to see you again, in every sense of the word, I don’t want you to step aside. But I think we are going to have to step aside, if you know what I mean.”
He sighs, but smiles too, in acknowledgment. “I get that.”
“I need to do what’s best for Kyle, and being involved with his new teacher isn’t a great idea. His school’s music program isn’t terribly good, so we like to make sure the people he works with outside of school are top-notch.”
He holds up his hands. “Hey, the fact that your kid comes first is yet another reason I like you so much.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh wait, I can’t like you anymore. I’ll just forget I’ve seen you naked and coming hard in my arms.”
“Campbell,” I chide, but I’m fighting back a grin, “you can’t say things like that now.”
“I can’t?” he asks innocently. “But I just did.”
I wag a finger at him. “You’re naughty.”
He steps closer. “So are you, and that’s why I’m not going to easily forget how enticing you look with my dick in your mouth. But I’ll do my best.”
A shudder wracks my body as I stare unabashedly at his gorgeous lips. “I’ll try to pretend I don’t know how filthy your mouth is.”
And we’re right back to flirting, which we shouldn’t do.
“Should we talk about the lessons? How this will work?” I try to focus on being responsible.
“We should. But I have one more question first.” He inches closer and runs his fingers down my arm, making me shiver. “Where was the poster of me? On the wall or above the bed?”
I release a shaky breath. “Above the bed.”
Chapter 13
Campbell
* * *
I let that image linger for a little bit longer—a teenage Mackenzie daydreaming about me. Yeah, that’s wildly inappropriate, but completely awesome. Not gonna lie.
I shake the thought away, though, because I’m more curious about the present-day woman.
I lift my chin. “So . . . Jamison?”
She slashes a hand through the air as she heads into the kitchen, answering quickly. “We’re not together.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I’m clear on that. I also figured as much since you have separate places, and on account of you taking me to your home the other night and fucking my brains out.”
Her eyes pop out and she points at me. “Hey. You fucked my brains out. Please get the order of brain-fucking right. Also,” she says, tilting her head to the side like a curious pup, “why is it called fucking your brains out? Is that the least attractive metaphor for sex ever?”
I hold up one finger. “Technically, the least attractive would be fucking the shit out of someone.”
She cringes and makes a gagging sound. “How did that ever become a saying?” She holds up two mugs from her spot at the counter. “Green tea?”
“Yes, please. And I don’t know how that became a saying. Maybe I don’t want to know. But instead, let’s just say I fucked you senseless three times. Is that better?”
She screws up the corner of her lips as she sets a kettle on the stove. “Don’t shortchange me. Wasn’t it four? I don’t want you to retroactively take away my fourth orgasm.”
I shoot her a look. “Don’t you know, Mackenzie? Orgasms can never be removed retroactively. The Council of Orgasms deems all climaxes everlasting.”
“I love the rules of the Council of Orgasms. Anyway, it was damned impressive. You were damned impressive.”
“You were.”
“No, you were.”
“We were.”
“Fine, we were. Also, to answer your question, Jamison’s gay. I don’t know if you realized that.”
I scratch my jaw as I move to the counter. “I sort of picked up on that. The poster comment and so on. Were you together and then he came out?”
She scoffs. “God, no.”
I crease my brow. “You say that like it’s the most absurd thing ever. That does happen.”
She nods as she fiddles with the kettle. “I’m well aware that it does happen, but in this case, we were best of friends, and if you ever want to know the height of stupidity or the profound depths of friendship, it would be me giving my bisexual bestie a chance to see if he liked girls one drunk night in college, and then getting pregnant because of it.”
I can’t help it. I chuckle. That’s too much. “That would indeed be the definition of friendship, to lay your body down like that. But it’s cool you can be such good friends and co-parent.”
“I’m lucky. There’s actually no one I’d rather have a kid with. Is that weird?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not. It makes complete sense. Families can come about in the most unusual ways.”
The kettle whistles, and she turns it off then pours. “I’m sure it’s easy to say now because I have my kiddo—and look, we can all go ahead and admit I have the most amazing kid in the world, because I do,” she says with a huge smile. “But it all worked out in a weird and wonderful way.”
As she heads into the living room with the mugs, I make my way to the couch. “It does seem like it worked out for you. Have you been with anyone else since? Ever marry?”
Shaking her head, she takes a seat next to me and blows on the steaming mug. “I’ve dated here and there. Over the years there were a couple guys, but none who I truly connected with on a meaningful level.”
I nod, understanding completely. “That’s how it’s been for me, too, since Samantha was little. I’ve dated, but I haven’t really found anybody who totally gets the situation.”
She clears her throat. “What about you? I have to confess, I’m not a big celebrity news person. I don’t really know the story of you and your kid.”
A smile sneaks across my face. “I love that you’re not a celebrity news junkie,” I say, running my finger down her arm. That’s probably something I shouldn’t do. This kind of contact is something I should resist, but touching her feels so natural. Her humor, her wit, her kindness, and her ridiculous sexiness make me want to get my hands on her. “In fact, I love that you had no clue who I was.”
“It’s not that easy to connect the dots. You’re . . . what? Thirty-four?”
I gesture to the ceiling with my thumb. Go higher. “Thirty-five.”
“My point. You’re thirty-five, not seventeen. You don’t exactly look the same.”
I pout then take a drink of the tea as I let go of her arm.
She taps her chest. “Nor do I! It’s okay if we don’t look like our teenage selves.”
“True. I didn’t have all this ink
when I was a teenager.” I hold out my arm. She stares at the tattoos on it then traces the string of musical notes wrapped above my elbow and the sunburst on my bicep.
“This is beautiful. I love the sunburst. It’s so bright and brilliant. That’s some fantastic design work.”
“It is, but you know what’s even better?”
“What?”
I reach my hand over my head, grabbing at the hem of my shirt. In one swift move, I tug it off.
Her eyes widen. “Campbell,” she whispers.
“Don’t worry. I’ll put it back on.” I turn so she can see the back of my shoulder. “You probably missed it the other night.”
She gasps. “That is the best Sam-I-Am ever.” Her fingers dart out, and I can feel her traveling along the illustration of the Dr. Seuss character wearing a red hat and holding a plate of green eggs and ham.
“I had that done when she was three. It was her favorite book. I read it to her probably ten times a day. At least it felt that way.”
“‘Would you eat them in a box? Would you eat them with a fox?’” she says softly.
“‘Not in a box. Not with a fox. Not in a house. Not with a mouse,’” I answer, relaxing into her touch as she outlines my ink.
“‘I would not eat them here or there. I would not eat them anywhere,’” we say together.
Her hand drops. “Great ink.”
“Thanks.” I tug the shirt back on and turn around to face her. “Your hummingbirds are pretty awesome too.” And because they’re peeking out her collar, I dive in for a quick kiss, pressing my lips to the birds then licking across them.
She trembles as I kiss her. “We’re not supposed to do this.”
“I know, but they’re so damn alluring, and I didn’t get to kiss them the other night.” I kiss my way up the birds, inhaling her sweet skin, savoring the way she responds to the barest of kisses. It pains me to stop, but I manage to pull away, doing my best to play by the rules.
She brushes her hands against her thighs. “Well, I’m not hot and bothered at all.”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “Me neither.”
“My point, before you played dirty, is that you didn’t have all this sexy, manly stubble in your teen days, or the laugh lines I happen to think are mega hot. I did look you up during the lesson.” A sheepish look crosses her face.
Once Upon a Real Good Time Page 8
