Easy Melody

by Kristen Proby

“It’s early,” Callie pouts beside me the next morning as we walk from the hotel to the waterfront and Pike’s Market. “We’re usually going to bed right about now.”

  “That’s an exaggeration, but it is early.”

  “So why are we out of bed? We had room service and sleep and sex back at the hotel.”

  “Because you’ve never been to Seattle, and I want you to experience it.”

  She frowns. “Okay. Can I experience it with coffee?”

  “That’s the first thing on my list,” I assure her and take her hand, link our fingers, and squeeze reassuringly. Three squeezes, to be exact.

  I love you.

  Our first stop is the original Starbucks where we load up on probably way too much caffeine, then I lead her through the market. It’s a little early yet, but vendors are already setting up their tables full of seafood, flowers, jewelry, just about anything you can think of. Callie is happy to slowly browse, stopping to taste some local honey, or accept a slice of apple.

  A pair of earrings catch her eye. “We’ll take them,” I tell the man behind the table, who smiles and reaches for a box.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Callie shakes her head and the man pauses with the box in his hand.

  “Do you like them?”

  “Of course, they’re beautiful.”

  “Perfect.” I nod to the man and he continues boxing her earrings. I pay him and she takes the bag with a thank you, and fifteen minutes later, when she still hasn’t said a word, I decide to break the silence. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Thank you for the earrings.”

  “You’re welcome.” We walk further, tasting oils and vinegars with cut-up bread, and then finally stand and watch the guys who throw the fish put on a show. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, but she doesn’t lean into me the way she usually does. “Spill it, sweetheart,” I murmur into her ear.

  “You’re just a very take-charge kind of person,” she says, her eyes pinned to the fish flying through the air. “And that’s something I have to get used to.”

  “It’s not a big deal. You like the earrings, so I bought them.”

  “And I like the Seahawks so you brought me to Seattle,” she says with a nod. “You just—”

  “I’m sorry if I crossed a line,” I say and drop my arm. Am I coming on too strong? I don’t see it that way. I love her, so I do nice things for her. It’s really that simple.

  “I’ve never been taken care of,” she says softly and finally turns to look up at me. She takes my hand in hers and holds on tightly. “This is just new for me, and I’m not complaining, I’m just—”

  “You’re adjusting your sails,” I finish for her, thinking of my father.

  “What?”

  “My dad used to say we can’t control the wind, but we can adjust our sails.” I lead her around the corner and sigh in bliss when I smell the tiny donuts being made. “So, you’re adjusting your sails a bit, and that’s okay.”

  “That’s actually a really good way to put it,” she agrees with a nod. “But nothing is wrong. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Okay. Just tell me if I do, because I probably will, and I won’t even know that I’m doing it.”

  “Fair enough. Please tell me we’re getting some of these donuts.”

  I grin and nod, already salivating. “This is the only reason I come to Seattle.”

  “You’re kidding.” She frowns as she watches the little pastries float in the cooking oil, then flop into the three-tiered cooking rack. “They’re just donuts.”

  “You wound me,” I reply, my hand over my heart. “These are not just donuts. These are Pike’s Place Market donuts, and believe me when I say after you’ve eaten these, you’ll never be the same.”

  “If you say so,” she says. I order enough for two large brown paper bags full, take one out, still piping hot from the fryer, and pop it in my mouth, then offer her one. She chooses a cinnamon sugar one, takes a bite, and stops in her tracks. “Oh my God.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean, it’s just… so good.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “More.” She takes the bag out of my hands and digs in, bites into another and sighs, moaning as if she’s having really, really good sex.

  “It’s a good thing I bought two bags,” I say with a laugh and open my own bag, but she reaches in and steals one. “Hey!”

  “You took one of mine,” she says primly, licking sugar off her lips. “It’s only fair.”

  I lean in and lick the sugar off her lips myself, then kiss her long and hard, right here for all of Seattle to see. “You can have all the donuts you want, sweetheart.”

  “Good, because we might have to make a trip back there before we leave.”

  “I was already planning on it.”

  “This is why I keep you around.”

  “Donuts?” I laugh and shake my head, leading her back toward the hotel where I plan to get her naked and in the enormous pool-size bathtub before we explore more of the city. “And here I thought you kept me around for my good looks.”

  “Well, before this it was for your oral skills, but now it’s donuts.”

  I stop on the sidewalk and stare at her in surprise, then I bust up laughing and pick up the pace to the hotel.

  “Are you in a hurry?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to hone my oral skills.”

  “Oh!” She speeds up, passing me. “Good idea.”

  Chapter Twelve

  ~Callie~

  “Come on! Are you fucking kidding me? Learn to throw the damn ball, Montgomery!” I scream down to the field. “I can throw better than that!”

  “Easy, tiger,” Declan says, pulling me back down in the seat.

  “Did you see that?” I roar and glare down at Seattle’s quarterback. “I mean, what the hell?”

  “This is fun,” Declan says calmly and finishes the last bite of his hot dog. We’re almost at the end of the fourth quarter of the game, and Seattle is up, but only by three.

  “What’s fun? Watching the damn quarterback try to sabotage this game?”

  He shakes his head and chuckles. “No, watching you lose your shit. I hope you never get mad at me. Actually, I take that back. You’re sexy when you’re on fire.”

  “If he doesn’t start throwing like a damn professional, you’ll see an inferno.”

  He just continues to smile, running his hand over my ponytail and down my back.

  “I like your outfit,” he says as we wait for the commercial break to pass so the game can continue. “The team emblem on your cheek is especially hot.”

  I look down at my 12th man jersey, with my favorite player’s name on the back, and grin. “I love this jersey. Thanks for buying it for me yesterday.”

  “I admit, I had ulterior motives,” he says while he leans in and presses his lips to my ear. “I’m hoping you’ll wear it and nothing else later when I continue to practice my oral skills.”

  “Is the game over yet?” I ask and glance at the scoreboard as Declan laughs and pulls his phone out of his pocket to check a text.

  “I need to make a call,” he says and stands. “I’ll be right back. Are you okay?”

  I’m soaking wet in the middle of a football game. What could be wrong?

  “I’m great,” I say, my attention returning to the field as the players assume their position for the next play. “Come on, guys,” I mumble. “You got this. I came a very long way for this game. You can do it.”

  I cross my fingers and hold my breath during the next play. They’re at the fifty yard line, directly in front of me. I don’t know how he did it, given that the home games are sold out for the season, but Declan got us some kickass seats.

  Montgomery calls the play, the ball snaps, and he throws to my favorite player, Sanders, who catches it perfectly and runs it in for a touchdown.

  “That’s right!” I scream and jump
up, clapping. “Woohoo!”

  Declan returns, also clapping and smiling.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Yep, nothing to worry about.”

  I nod and grin at the field. There are only thirty seconds left on the clock, and unless there’s some miraculous act of God, Seattle is gonna win this game. With just a few plays, and Seattle’s defense killing Pittsburgh, Seattle is victorious.

  Declan and I stay in our seats, waiting for the majority of the stadium to empty.

  “Traffic is going to be a bitch as it is. We might as well just wait,” Declan says and fidgets with the neckline of my jersey. “Did you have fun?”

  “It was great,” I reply and lean in, intending to give him a quick kiss, but it swiftly turns into a long, hot kiss, the way it always does where Declan is concerned. We don’t seem to do anything softly or gently. It’s always passionate. Eager. Hungry.

  And I love it. I love that I can just be me with him. My sexual requests don’t seem to startle or repulse him. And when we’re together, just hanging out, we can talk about anything, or simply sit and enjoy the quiet.

  We’re comfortable, in the best way.

  He reaches down and takes my hand, giving it three squeezes. Finally, when most of the place is empty, we stand and he leads me up and out of the stadium and into the parking garage, where we can catch a cab back to the hotel.

  But when we get inside, Declan rattles off an address I don’t recognize.

  “Where are we going?” I scoot as close to him as I can and rest my head on his wide shoulder.

  “You’ll see.”

  In control, as usual.

  “I’m not a huge fan of surprises, you know.”

  “Actually, I don’t know that,” he replies and kisses my forehead, then turns to look out the window and into the already dark evening. We’re quiet as the cab maneuvers through the game traffic. My ears are still rushing from the noise, my throat raw from screaming. When the cab passes the exit to our hotel, I tip my head back and kiss Declan’s cheek.

  “Where did you say we’re going?”

  He smirks. “I didn’t. Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”

  “I hope it’s not fancy,” I say before yawning widely. “I’m not dressed for it.”

  “Not fancy,” he assures me and tips my head back, his finger under my chin, and kisses me sweetly at first, and then more deeply, as if he hasn’t touched me in weeks.

  We drive outside of the city, where lights are fewer and fewer, making the dark settle in. We seem to be following the coast. The cab pulls off the freeway, and then turns onto a smaller two-lane road that meanders for a few miles before ending at a huge iron gate.

  “Stop here,” Declan says and disentangles himself from me. “I’ll be right back.”

  Before I can say anything, he jumps out of the car, walks to the speaker box and talks into it. The gate begins to roll away as he joins me.

  “This is all very 007 of you,” I say, my curiosity piqued.

  “It’s not that dramatic,” he says with a laugh as the cab pulls through and stops at the entrance of a beautiful two-story stone house. It’s craftsman in style, spread out and simply breathtaking.

  I wish I could see it in the daylight.

  I can hear the ocean not far away. “Are we near the beach?”

  “Yes,” Declan says with a smile after he pays the cab and leads me to the door. “This house is on cliffs that sit above the Sound.”

  “Wow.”

  The door swings open and a pretty, small blonde woman smiles widely. A tall, slender, tattooed man is standing right behind her. He has a sleeve that runs down over his hand and to his fingers, and I’d recognize that face anywhere.

  “Hi! I’m Samantha. You must be Callie. Declan has told us a lot about you. This is my husband—”

  “Leo Nash,” I reply for her and feel myself blush. “Sorry. I’m a fan.”

  “And I’m flattered,” Leo replies and shakes my hand. “Hey, Dec.”

  “Hey,” Declan says and the two do the man-hug thing that I don’t understand in the least, as Samantha leads us all into the heart of the home: the kitchen.

  “Your home is beautiful, Samantha.” I’m trying to absorb it all at once, and it’s impossible. The style is contemporary, with little pops of rustic and shabby chic thrown in here and there. The combination is both homey and eye-catching.

  “Thanks. You can call me Sam,” she says with a grin. “We just finished building it about a year ago. I think we just about have it the way we want it.”

  I nod, just as the doorbell rings, and rather than waiting for someone to answer it, the door is opened. “Hey guys! We’re here.”

  “Oh good,” Sam says and all I can do is pray to God that I don’t have the stupid dog look on my face. Because Will Montgomery just walked through that door.

  “Will, this is the friend I told you about, Declan Boudreaux,” Leo says. “And his girlfriend, Callie.”

  “It’s good to meet you both,” Will says, shaking our hands. “This is my wife, Meg.”

  I shake myself out of my stupor to see a beautiful redhead standing next to him. She’s rocking a boho chic style of clothing that I wish with all my might I could pull off. She also has tats on her arm, and she’s smiling kindly.

  “I’m not a cook,” Sam warns us all as we congregate in the kitchen. “I didn’t want to risk killing any of you, so I ordered in from Palomino downtown.”

  “And I picked up some cupcakes from Nic’s bakery,” Leo adds. “I helped.”

  “Yes, you were an integral part of the process,” Sam says and rolls her eyes.

  “Nic is our sister in law,” Will-mother-fucking-Montgomery informs me. “She owns a bakery in Seattle. And I hope you got a lot of them because I’m hungry as hell.”

  “You’re always hungry,” Meg says and shakes her head. “Feeding him is the same as feeding a third-world country.”

  “Best cupcakes in the world,” Sam says as she pulls warming dishes out of the oven and sets everything out in her gourmet kitchen buffet-style.

  “I like your jersey,” Will says to me with a smile. “Except the wrong name is on the back.”

  I’m beginning to relax now, not exactly sure how I feel about having dinner with a rock star and a football hero, but at least I can breathe.

  Kind of.

  “No, it’s not,” I reply and link my fingers with Declan’s as I lean against the kitchen island.

  “It doesn’t say Montgomery,” Will says, as if I’m slow.

  “No. It doesn’t. Sanders is my favorite player,” I reply with a laugh.

  “What?” He covers his heart, as though he’s been stabbed and is dying a slow death. “This hurts.”

  “Sanders is an excellent running back, and when you managed to throw the ball at someone on your own team today, he’s the one that ran it in for a touchdown.”

  Silence descends on the room for several long seconds, and then everyone, including Will, busts up laughing.

  “I like her,” Sam says, wiping tears from the corner of her eye. “She can stay.”

  “Well, despite the abuse you’re slinging at me, I had the team sign the game ball for you today.” He jogs over to the entryway and returns with the ball, then passes it to me.

  “Wow, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Declan said you’re a big fan, so I thought I’d send you back to New Orleans with something special.”

  “Thank you.” I grin, turning the ball in my hands, looking at all the signatures. Then I surprise even myself when I throw it over to Will, who catches it easily and throws it right back.

  “Good arm. Looking for a job?”

  “No.” I laugh and set the ball aside. “So how do you and Declan know each other?” I ask Leo. “I’m assuming it’s through music.”

  “You’re right,” Leo says with a nod. “Declan helped write and produce several songs on a few of our albums.”

  “W
ow.” Stop saying wow. My gaze turns to Declan, who’s watching me with happy hazel eyes. “Impressive.”

  “Hasn’t he told you who he’s worked with?” Meg asks, while loading up a plate. “I used to play with Leo, before Nash went nuts. He’s my brother. Well,” she clarifies with a shrug, “the closest thing I have to a brother anyway.”

  “Who have you worked with?” I ask Declan, who just shakes his head.

  “Lots of people.”

  “Okay, he’s being modest,” Leo says with a grin. “I’ll tell you. He works with us, but he’s also worked with Bruce Springsteen, Adele, Coldplay, just to name a few.”

  My eyes are trained on Declan, who won’t meet my gaze. If I’m not mistaken, he’s blushing.

  He’s embarrassed.

  “That’s something to be proud of,” I murmur and kiss his shoulder. “What do you do, Meg?”

  Taking the focus off of Declan makes him relax, and I learn that Meg is a nurse at the children’s hospital and Sam is a magazine editor.

  I love, love, that these women are married to important, wealthy men, but have maintained their own careers, their own identities. I have a lot of respect for Sam and Meg.

  Dinner is delicious, but I can’t eat much. I’m too nervous and excited to eat. After dinner, Meg, Leo and Declan wander into the sunroom/music room off the kitchen to play songs and talk music.

  Sam, Will and I are cleaning up from dinner, which is easy given that dishes go in the dishwasher and the food just needs to be recovered and put in the fridge. We take our cupcakes, Will grabs four of them—grumbling when Meg yells out that he can’t have six because other people want to eat them too—some coffee, and sit in the living room. We can hear the music and murmurs from the next room, but we can still talk.

  “How did you meet him?” Sam asks right away and bites into a lemon cupcake.

  “I own the bar that he plays in a few nights a week,” I reply and take a bite of my own chocolate cupcake, and just about die in ecstasy. “Oh my God, these are so good.”

  “Best ever,” Sam agrees. “Nic is a genius when it comes to cake.”

  “Nic is my new favorite person,” I say as I stuff the rest in my mouth, not even caring that I’m not by myself.

  Will smiles proudly. “Atta girl.”