“For the most part. I—”
I caught myself, very nearly on the verge of blurting out the whole thing about the ex and the wedding-day disaster and everything else. Things were going well with Noah, I thought, but that didn’t mean he’d be down for hearing about how I’d gotten totally humiliated on my wedding day.
And what if he got to thinking? Maybe wondering if he was doing such a smart thing by getting involved—or whatever was going on—with someone like me, someone who evidently was such an anti-catch that she inspired men to ditch her on the verge of nuptials and run off with a barely legal professional dress-up chick.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just pretty tame when it comes to this kind of stuff.”
If he had any thoughts on the matter, he kept them to himself. The towers of downtown LA grew larger and larger, and before too long the two of us were pulling into the garage of one of them, one that appeared to be a newer condo complex—pretty fancy from what I could tell.
Noah pulled the car into a private spot, and moments later the two of us were being whisked up to the top floor via a very silent elevator. My eyes flicked over to his, and for a moment the two of us were locked in a heated stare.
“Not enough time for that,” he said with a grin. “These new elevators weren’t built with what you’re thinking in mind.”
I was flustered—both at the mention of sex and the fact that he somehow had managed to read my mind.
“What makes you think I was—”
“Call it a hunch,” he said.
My face went fire-engine red, and the doors opened, revealing a massive, modern-looking penthouse.
“Nice place,” I said, stepping inside and looking around, my attention most captured by the sweeping view of the city, a view that stretched all the way to the water.
“Thanks,” he said. “I have some roommates. They’re out for the night, though.”
“Roommates?” I asked.
He nodded toward a small shelf off to the side, one packed with pictures. I stepped over and got a better look at them. Nearly every one of the photos was of some combination of Noah, a middle-aged woman who looked a hell of a lot like him, and an adorable girl with dark hair.
“That’s your little girl, right?” I asked. “The one you adopted?”
“Sophia,” he said, taking one of the pictures of him and her and looking at it with such a warm expression it nearly brought a damn tear to my eye. “The reason I get out of bed in the mornings.”
“And your mom?” I asked.
“Yep,” he said. “She’s been living here for a while—a hell of a help with the little lady.”
“That’s so sweet,” I said.
He smirked. “Mom didn’t really give me a say in the matter. Once she’d heard that the adoption was set to go through she all but kicked my door down coming to help out. They’re both out for the night, probably grabbing In-N-Out and seeing a foreign film, if Sophia has anything to say about it.”
He set down the picture and glanced up at me.
“Your parents?” he asked.
“Just my dad,” I said. “Mom passed a little while back.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he said.
“Thanks. He’s here in town. Hell, we might even be able to see his place with this view of yours.”
I stepped toward the huge glass windows that looked out onto the city, taking in the sights. Noah approached my side, his irresistibly yummy scent wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I turned toward him, noticing now the very, very stark décor of the apartment.
“This is a really nice place,” I said, speaking in a careful tone.
“You can say it,” he said.
“Say what?”
Another “come on now” look.
“It…kind of looks like a big doctor’s office,” I said, letting it out. “But, like, a doctor’s office from the future. So, a cool one. Kind of.”
He handed me a bottle of mineral water as he turned to take in the scene.
“I know, I know,” he said. “But keep in mind this was the late 2000s—if you were a bachelor with some money, you had to have an apartment that looked like this. Pretty much the rule.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, looking around. “I could totally imagine seeing a place like this on a mid-series episode of Cribs.”
He laughed. “Don’t know if I’ve got enough TVs hidden around the place for that. But man, the place could sure go for an update. The style’s just…”
“I think it’s less about style and more guys don’t know how to decorate,” I said with a wink.
“No way,” he said. “I mean, I know how to decorate.” He gestured toward one of the few pieces of wall art hanging, a framed poster of the movie Fight Club, Brad Pitt proudly holding up a bar of soap and Edward Norton glowering at the viewer.
“I…see,” I said, giving the cap of my bottle of water a quick twist.
“And there’s another one,” he said.
He pointed a bit further down where there was another poster, this one for Robocop.
“Robocop, huh?” I asked, more intrigued than I was letting on.
Believe it or not, Robocop was one of my favorites. Not quite sci-fi, but kind of.
“Is that a skeptical tone I detect?” he asked with a smile, opening up his own bottle of water. “Because Robocop is one of the GOATs.”
“Goat?” I asked.
“Greatest of all time,” he said. “You not into sci-fi?”
“No, I am,” I said, realizing that he’d just opened up a whole can of worms.
His eyebrow raised, intrigued. “Is that right?” he asked, his tone one of total surprise. “This I gotta know more about.”
“What?” I asked. “Girls aren’t allowed to be into sci-fi?”
“Girls are allowed to be into whatever they want,” he said. “Just don’t find that many of them are into sci-fi. Especially girls like you.”
I dropped down into the surprisingly soft cushions of his pearl-white sectional couch. “Girls like me?” I asked. “Now, I can’t help but ask what that’s supposed to mean.”
He sat down next to me, close enough to put some distance between us, but near enough that he was definitely in my bubble. And I wanted him to be in more than that.
“You know,” he said. “High-powered women with corner offices, the kind who like to drink green smoothies after their spin classes.”
I couldn’t help but let out a big bark of a laugh that exploded through the vast space of the apartment. “That’s what you think I am?” I asked.
“Am I wrong?”
I wanted to tell him that yes, he most certainly was wrong. But then I realized that he wasn’t too far off the mark.
“I mean, sort of. I do have an office—not a corner one though. And I like to think I have a little bit of power. But as far as the spin class and smoothie part? No way. Whatever good shape I’m in is from being too busy to eat anything other than a few quick bites of takeout here and there.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing,” he said, “it’s working.” He gave me a goofy look that suggested he know just how corny he was being.
“Such a gentleman,” I said. “But anyway, despite how oh-so-glamorous my life might look, yes, I’m into sci-fi.”
The subject was, strangely, weird and kind of uncomfortable to bring up. I’d sort of put that part of me away ever since the wedding. These days I couldn’t glance at the spines of my old cheesy paperbacks without feeling a stab to the gut.
Had George and his wedding-day crap ruined the genre for me forever?
“Then you’re a Robocop aficionado, I take it,” he said.
“Naturally,” I said right back. “But while one is great, two is really overlooked. Nothing can match Verhoeven, obviously, but they really managed to get the satirical tone of the first locked down.”
It all came out in a strange rush. And Noah simply regarded me with something that was alm
ost like wonderment.
“A girl who knows her Robocop,” he said, nodding his head slowly in approval. “Got to love that.”
Then his eyes gave my expression a once-over.
“You cool over there?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Just…don’t really find too many people I can talk about Robocop with.”
It was probably one of the weirdest sentences I’d ever said in my life. But the look on Noah’s face suggested he got it, totally. And got that there was something more than what I was letting on.
“Well,” he said. “Good to know that you’ve got good taste in addition to being stunningly beautiful.”
I was about to give him a tease for his charmingly eye-roll-worthy comment, but he wasn’t done.
“Then again,” he said. “I already knew you had great taste.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Because you were at my show, of course.”
I couldn’t help but laugh before giving him a swat on the shoulder. And, like always, I noticed as soon as I touched him just how hard his body was.
It got me thinking about what we’d been up to in the car, how I’d had him nearly naked, those gorgeous muscles tight and just incredible to behold.
And I wanted it again. Whatever apprehensions I’d had before were gone, and I moved my butt over the couch closer to him. Just like that I was wrapped up again in his scent and his eyes and his everything else.
“Something I can help you with, young lady?” he asked, noticing that I’d cut the distance between us down to nothing.
“You know there is,” I said.
“All this talk about Robocop get you in the mood?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But as hot as a guy covered in metal always gets me, I think you’re what’s getting me in the mood right now.”
I was done talking. I wanted Noah, and I wanted to finish what we’d started. There was something about him that was just magical, something that managed to make me forget about the wedding and the book and everything else. At that moment, it was just me and him.
Noah slipped his hand into my hair and brought my face close. Our lips brushed in a teasing way before they locked, the kiss just as heated and lovely and everything else as it had been before.
But right at the moment we started going for one another’s clothes, a chime sounded through the apartment. I gasped, looking over. Sure enough, in the direction of the noise was an open elevator, a woman and a little girl standing with looks of shock on their faces.
Busted.
Again.
16
PEPPER
Two women stepped out of the elevator. Well, a girl and a woman. The woman was tall and trim, with a flash to her eyes and a sandy blonde to her hair that let me know instantly that she was related to Noah.
His mom. Looking just as lovely and motherly as she had in the photo.
And then the girl. She was tiny and skinny and totally adorable, her sharp features framed with a choppy bob of black hair. She didn’t look all that much like Noah, but there was still something in her that reminded me of him all the same.
Daughter.
And in her hands were two bags, the bottoms dark with grease.
Burgers.
Noah and I took our hands off one another instantly, both of us shooting to the far ends of the couch.
“Hey!” said Noah, running his hand through his hair. “It’s…you guys!”
“It’s us guys,” said the mom, her eyes locked onto me as she and the little girl made their way into the room.
“Brought some burgers,” said the girl, setting the bags on the coffee table.
At that moment I didn’t know if I was about to be welcomed with some tasty treats from—for my money—the best burger spot in the country, or if I was about to get tossed from a very tall balcony by two women, one a Boomer and the other very much Gen Z—an intergenerational team-up.
“Didn’t know you were going to be having company tonight,” said the mom.
“I…didn’t either,” said Noah. “But, ah, this is Pepper Barnes. She’s with Penrose Publishing, and she and I were meeting to talk about a book.”
“Didn’t look like there was much talking going on,” said Mom.
Wasn’t looking good. The odds of me sailing through the LA sky before the burgers had a chance to cool seemed to be increasing by the moment.
“Ah, anyway,” said Noah. “Pepper, this is my mom, Mary. And this is Sophia, my daughter.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, trying to swallow my nervousness as I stuck my hand out to the little girl.
Relief hit me when she took it.
“Pleased to meet you too,” she said. “You want a burger? We always get extra.”
Actually, a burger did sound kind of good. And if I wasn’t going to get satisfied in the way I wanted, greasy food would be a pretty good way to feed my hunger.
“Uh, sure,” I said. “I love In-N-Out.”
“Why don’t you get the plate settings out, kid,” said Noah. “Just because it’s animal-style doesn’t mean we need to eat like them.”
“OK, Dad,” said Sophia, hurrying off to the kitchen.
Then it was just the three of us.
“So,” said Mary. “A book?”
To my relief, it looked like she was softening up a bit. Just my luck I’d meet a rock star who was actually into me, only to be thwarted by a domineering mom who thought no one was good enough for her boy.
“Right,” I said. “A book about Noah. And the band.”
The clatter of plates and glasses getting set out sounded from the other room. And my eyes kept flicking back to those burgers.
“I didn’t know you were thinking about getting into writing,” said Mary.
“Ready!” shouted Sophia.
“I don’t think I’d be writing it,” said Noah, the three of us grabbing the burgers and drinks and heading over to the long, glass table near the kitchen. “Right? I guess we never got that far into the talk.”
He was right about that—we’d gotten distracted.
“No,” I said. “I mean, unless you really wanted to.”
“Nah,” said Noah, dropping into one of the seats. “I think lyrics is about the only kind of writing I can do.”
“Then we’d be setting you up with one of our writers. She’d have a few interviews with you, and then she’d do all the work.”
“‘She’?” asked Noah as he reached into the bag and began taking out burgers.
Moira appeared in my mind, a tinge of jealousy running through me—one I dismissed right away. No, this was all professionalism. No chance she’d try to make a move on Noah during their work together. High school was years ago, right?
“Yeah, her name’s Moira Walsh. She’s been working with us for years. Once she’s done talking to you, she’d put it all together, and that’d be that.”
“It sounds fun,” said Sophia, her eyes flashing with excitement. “A book about you? I already want to read it.”
Mary said nothing, seeming skeptical about it and me and everything else.
“Anyway,” said Noah. “I never agreed to it, and I don’t think I’m going to.”
“What?” asked Sophia. “Why?”
“Because that’s not who I am anymore,” he said, scooping up some fries into his hand. “Lover Boys was fun, and the reunion was a cool dip into the past, but…I just want to leave that all behind.”
“Bo-ring,” said Sophia.
“And your job is to talk him into it, I take it?” asked Mary as she unwrapped her burger, the scent of delicious, greasy food filling the air.
I was trying to get a read on Mary to figure out what side she was on. But she was a tough one to crack. Part of me wondered if she was simply trying to puzzle out this strange woman who had almost gotten busy with her son right there on the sectional.
“We hadn’t really gotten to the ‘talking into’ part of the process,” I said. “More that I�
�d just explained it to him, and he’d shot it down.”
“Aw,” said Sophia. “Lame.”
Mary looked away, thoughtfully. “Huh,” she said.
“What?” asked Noah. “Got an opinion on the matter, Mom?”
“Just thinking…you could make some serious money from this,” she said.
“Money’s the last thing I need,” said Noah. “Between the day job and the royalties from the music, I’m set.”
“No,” said Mary. “Not money for you—that project you were talking about.”
Project? Now I was intrigued.
“What kind of project?” I asked, getting my own burger ready for its first bite.
“It’s nothing,” said Noah. “Just something I’d kind of been kicking around in my head.”
“You mean something that you’ve been talking about for the last month nonstop,” said Mary.
“I’m curious,” I said. “Tell me.”
Noah appeared conflicted for a moment, then finally, with a relenting sigh, he went into it.
“You know my work, right?” he asked.
“You’re a lawyer,” I replied. “Working with some of the hard-knock cases in the city.”
“Right,” he said. “Trying to give something back, you know?”
“Oh, I know,” I said with a smile.
Everyone who knew the slightest bit about Lover Boys knew what a sweetheart Noah was, how when he passed the bar he did charity work instead of going into the high-profile world of the LA legal system.
“And I’d been thinking about doing a little more, setting up a scholarship program that could help some of these kids get into college. So many of them finish high school and have no idea what to do with themselves. And they’re so damn bright—it’s such a waste, you know?”
I nodded, letting him go on.
“So, I was thinking that if I set up something like this I could do something to give them a shot. Problem is that setting up a scholarship like this is no small thing. I’d either need to take time off from work to do it, or I’d have to pay some killer lawyers to take care of it all for me. And money’s normally no object, but all my cash is tied up right now—it’d take months to liquidate what I need.”
“Then this is perfect!” I exclaimed. “You can use the advance from the book to get all this started. And then once this thing sells like I know it will, you can send whatever royalties you make into the scholarship fund. It’d be perfect!”
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