Call You Mine

by Claudia Burgoa

  “What is so funny about them?”

  He starts coughing. “I volunteer to figure out number five. Actually, we should dedicate an entire week to do that.”

  I frown and check my phone because I can’t remember what number five is, and when I see it, I gasp. Finding my G-spot.

  My heart is about to jump out of my chest, and I’m not even sure if it’s panic or lust.

  “We’re not kissing or having sex,” I make everything clear.

  “Kissing is necessary.” He taps his phone. “As a musician, you know that the difference between ordinary and extraordinary is practice.”

  “Stop involving music in this conversation, Aldridge.”

  He smirks. “That’s our language. It’s the best way we can communicate.”

  I stare at him for a couple of beats. There’s a lot involved in that sentence. So much I don’t want to think about because then I’ll have to analyze every note, lyric, and melody we’ve played separately and together.

  To stop myself from evaluating this any further, I warn him, “I might say yes to the kisses, but there won’t be sex involved.”

  “Unless”—he licks his lips—“you ask nicely.”

  “Beacon Kirk Aldridge, we’re not having sex,” I insist.

  “We’re not half-assing this, Grace,” he answers. “You know I’m all in or nothing.”

  He takes my hands, lifting them to his mouth and kissing my fingers gently, softly. It feels like a feather caressing my skin.

  His green eyes look at me, pointedly. “How’s it going to be, Gracie?”

  He takes my face in his hands. Slowly, leaning down his mouth, almost touching mine. I’m holding my breath, staring at his lips. Wishing he’d kiss me. This is a bad idea. But the irrepressible desire to be devoured by his mouth is bigger than the reluctance.

  “Are we going to compose this sonata? I promise it’ll be like Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight.’” His words are playing in my head, just like Beethoven’s Sonata. No. 14, my favorite.

  “You promise nothing will happen to our friendship?”

  “Do you trust me, G?”

  “Always,” I answer. The desire coursing through my veins blinds my judgment.

  His lips brush mine lightly. Mine part with the friction, expectant. He teases me a couple more times before his tongue licks my bottom lip.

  His big hand rests on the back of my neck, the other tilts my chin, and he finally lowers his mouth to mine. He kisses me slow. Very quietly. It’s as if he’s playing a romantic sonata. Not precisely ‘Moonlight,’ but we’re following the rhythm. Beacon is the one dictating the pace. Slow, possessive, hungry.

  It’s nothing like our first sloppy kiss, but it has just the same feel. A deep, sweet caress in my heart. A song that hasn’t been played in forever, but I knew it existed. I just didn’t want to remember it.

  But I remember us.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Beacon

  I don’t know if it was the alarm announcing someone entered, or that I couldn’t help myself and changed the kiss’s rhythm from slow to a fast tune. Something along the lines makes Grace jet off with the excuse of having to visit Arden and baby Carter.

  Lang, Sanford, Manelik, and Fisher stare at the door for a couple of seconds before San gives me a weird look. “Did we miss something?”

  I shake my head.

  Mane, who is the most perceptive of the group, arches an eyebrow. “Seeing as she didn’t kill you, I’m guessing that you guys kissed and made up.”

  Lang shakes his head. “How long did it take, twelve years?”

  “About.” Fisher shrugs. “Maybe in twenty, he’ll ask us to help him pick out a ring.”

  “We’re not discussing Grace,” I warn them.

  “You never discuss her, but you’re always moping,” San complains. “Did you hear that she’s registering for a How to Date Bootcamp? If you don’t wise up, she’s going to be dating a real man and forgetting about you.”

  So, Grace told them about her plan, huh? It doesn’t surprise me. They are her best friends too.

  These guys know my deal with Grace. They’re my family. My brothers. There’s nothing I don’t tell them.

  “She wants me to mentor her.” When I say it out loud, it sounds somehow ridiculous, because why would I want to teach her something she plans to use with someone else?

  Am I capable of letting her go?

  Do I want to let her go?

  My bandmates burst into loud laughter that lasts for several minutes.

  “Come here, Little Red Riding Hood. I’ll teach you the ways. Sincerely, the Big Bad Wolf,” San jokes.

  I flip him the finger.

  “He’s no wolf. He’s just a fucking pup,” Lang says. “Grace snaps her fingers, and he sits like a good little boy.”

  “Stop it!”

  The four of them ignore me.

  “I bet he’s forgotten how to fuck,” Sanford continues. “Not that he’s going to be able to do it. Mr. B will have him killed when he learns Beacon has made a move.”

  “He can try whatever he wants. I can take him,” I say, partially bluffing. If he sends the entire organization to hunt me, then I have no way to defend myself.

  Mason Bradley adores his daughter. He’s so protective of her that even though he lets her be a part of The Organization, he has someone watching her all the time—me.

  “See, he went silent. He’s worried because he’s going to need a sex-ed refresher.” San pulls out a condom from his wallet and throws it at me. “Lesson one, always use one of these before you fuck.”

  “You shouldn’t worry, man. It’s like riding a bike, Beac,” Lang says, smirking. “I can buy you some porn in case you forgot what to do with it, other than jerking.”

  “Fuck you,” I mumble.

  Mane clears his throat. “How long has it been?”

  I shrug in response. It’s not his damn business. People swear that men can’t keep it zipped.

  We can.

  Though it’s fucking hard when the star of all my fantasies is always around me, and all I want to do is take her into my arms and make love to her. I can’t act upon it. Well, that ends today. Bradley wants me to take some time off. I will do so and enjoy the perks.

  “You have it bad.” San pats my back. “Are you planning on giving up everything and getting the girl?”

  “We don’t discuss that part of my life,” I remind them.

  “Beacon, you’re losing your shit,” Mane gives me that serious stare. “This is the first time I have to interrupt my annual trip with the family because you’re MIA. Honestly, I thought you went rogue and did something stupid until Grace said your brothers couldn’t open the bunker.”

  “It’s designed to keep undesirable people away,” I remind them. “I wanted some time alone. My brothers blew everything out of proportion.”

  Let’s hope Jerome Parrish didn’t hear about it.

  “I wish I had five fuckers giving a shit about me the way your brothers do,” Lang complains. “If I die, my parents and siblings wouldn’t give a shit—unless they have to pay someone off to keep any scandals away from them.”

  That’s how Lang and I bonded when we were young. Our shitty families. His family doesn’t care about him or each other. It’s pretty depressing.

  “Just because they seem to care today, that doesn’t mean they’ll care in a year. May I remind you how they’ve never given a shit before.”

  “That’s fair. I wouldn’t believe it if my family had a sudden change of heart either.”

  The rest of the guys nod in agreement. We’ve been through a lot. How can they forget everything just because my brothers seem nice?

  “I’m not doing this just to fuck with them,” I assure them. “I lost my grandfather, then grandma. I know I have you guys, but I needed to take a day off.”

  “You disappeared for three days without warning us.” San shows me three fingers.

  “I know how to count.”


  “It’s okay to go off the grid. Next time, call us, idiot,” Lang remarks.

  “What the fuck happened?” Fisher crosses his arms.

  “I was being stupid,” I say, because there’s no other explanation.

  “Tell us something we don’t know,” Mane argues, then says, “I’m not joking. You owe us at least that. I need to know why it is that you shut everyone down for so long.”

  “It was the thought of Grace and the new guy,” I mumble.

  Mane rolls his eyes and says, “There’ll never be a new guy. You two are this weird couple that can’t accept they are meant for each other. I can’t say that she’s in love with you because if she is, she hides it pretty well, but we know you adore her.”

  I tell them about my decision and Grace’s proposition.

  “What’s going to happen when you have to go back to your life?”

  “I…”

  I need to figure that out because it can get messy. I stare at the wall, thinking of a solution when Fish says, “We support whatever you choose to do. Just don’t fuck it up because she’s our friend too. You know we’re in this together.”

  By this, he means life, and she’s a big part of it.

  “He’s going to move in here permanently, marry Grace, and become a farmer like his big brothers,” San jokes.

  “We still need to figure out Grace’s housing if she’s staying for this experiment,” I say, moving the conversation along. We can make fun of my brothers another day.

  “Why can’t she stay in your room?” Lang reminds me.

  So many reasons. Let me count a few. If Parrish suspects that we’re dating and serious about it, he’s going to try to impose my father’s sanctions onto her. If she stays in my room, but she’s not ready to go all the way with me, I’ll have to sleep in the studio—or on the sofa. I can only fake that I’m sleeping in my bedroom for so long.

  “It’s too complicated.”

  “Tucker’s place?” Mane suggests.

  Grace loves her cousin, and the family is really close, but I doubt she’ll want to live there for a year.

  “Nope,” I answer. “You know he’ll take that as a big brother project, and we might end up fighting.”

  “I’ll pay to see who wins. My money is on Tucker.” Lang laughs.

  “Fuck you,” I growl.

  Tucker worked for The Organization after his band broke up. He only lasted a couple of years. He retired after he got shot and almost died. His family begged him to quit. I think I would win because I have more practice, but I have no desire to find out if I’m right.

  “We can buy a house,” Lang suggests.

  Why am I not surprised? Buying shit is his answer for everything. He’s better than his family, but he still has some traits from their shitty attitude. Not everything is for sale. Money won’t buy you happiness.

  “We can use it for the band,” he continues. “The next time we want to visit, lay a few tracks or just play at the bar, we don’t have to stay underground. The place is cool but creepy.”

  Though it sounds like a great idea, it worries me that if I have to fly out without permission, my brothers—or worse, the lawyer—will catch me. Then again, The Organization isn’t giving the team any new cases until next year.

  I don’t argue with them that it’s up to Grace where she wants to stay. The woman hates when others make decisions for her.

  Lang scratches his temple. “So now that your life is somehow solved, let’s talk about the band. Can we set up some shows this year? We promise to bring you back before curfew, Cinderella.”

  I ignore the last comment. In theory, I am allowed to leave the town and the state for concerts. The catch is being back on time.

  “Why would we want to do it?”

  “I’m bored to tears, and I need something more than just coming to this town to do absolutely-fucking nothing,” Lang complains. “Watching you guys play in the studio isn’t the highlight of my life.”

  Instead of Julliard, Lang went to Columbia for business and Yale for law school. His family thought he’d be joining their business. It wasn’t pretty when he told them he was becoming a music manager.

  “You manage other bands,” I remind him.

  “It’s not the same,” he growls. “I have to be fucking professional with them.”

  San laughs. “Just give this poor man something to do. He spent the holidays like a good Mr. Scrooge planning some gigs.”

  “I don’t know, guys,” I say concerned, because I really don’t want to be the one who fucks the town—even if I can save it later. “What do you have in mind?”

  “We were thinking about the stipulations, and if we recall, you can play as long as you’re back on time,” Lang begins. He explains a couple of scenarios and names a few cities. “We’d have to talk with Jacob and Pria, but we think it’s doable.”

  “You haven’t run it through our label and our PR?” I huff. “They might say no, it’s last minute or something like that.”

  “Please, Jacob doesn’t sell your souls because he can’t find a buyer,” Lang jokes. “We can work out something this week.”

  “Okay, but you have to work the schedule and be precise. The concert is over by eleven, and I’m back no later than two in the morning,” I remind them.

  “It’s feasible. As I explained, we stick to the West Coast,” Lang assures me, and the guys nod.

  “Vegas is also a possibility, yes?” Fish asks, hopeful.

  “Let me sit down with my brothers and talk about it before you get on the phone with Jacob.” I stop them before they announce the Northwestern tour, or however they might want to call it. “Just like I don’t trust them, they don’t trust me either.”

  Okay, so maybe if I want them to trust me, I need to confide in them too. This better be fucking worth it. I’m not sure what exactly I’m talking about. My brothers, Grace, the band, or this year. I just hope it doesn’t fuck me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Grace

  Fireworks go off when Beacon begins to kiss me. My knees weaken. I want this to last longer—for an eternity. The sound of the alarm announcing someone is entering the house makes me stop. I push away from his embrace. I touch my lips and stare at him. There’s a wildfire happening in his eyes.

  I have a hard time recovering my breath.

  “G,” he whispers.

  The steps in the hallway remind me that someone is coming. I say, “I need baby hugs from Arden and Carter.” And I leave.

  On my way to the exit, I happen upon Mane, Fish, Lang, and San.

  “What’s the rush, little fawn?” Mane asks. His dark brown eyes examine me. “You okay?”

  “Yep, just need to leave.”

  “Okay, then. We’re in a hurry,” one of them jokes. I’m pretty sure it is Lang, but I don’t engage. “Do you need anything, princess?”

  Definitely Lang. He’s the only one who still calls me princess. I owe that to my dear family.

  Do I need anything? Another kiss, Beacon’s arms, a plane to fly away.

  All I know is that I have to get out of the house. Maybe leave the property all at once.

  Or Baker’s Creek…

  Maybe the country.

  That kiss wasn’t what I expected. I don’t remember him kissing in that way. I could feel him all the way down to my soul, branding his name. Flares of desire began to spread in my skin. I’m still burning, and if I don’t extinguish the flames, they might consume me.

  As I walk outside Beacon’s place, I shiver. It’s not the cold air. It’s the lust that’s giving me Beacon withdrawal—yes, it’s real.

  God, what did he do to me?

  I need to cool down.

  Instead of going to the main house to visit his family, I jog to Tucker’s place. It seems like the best way to put out the fire. I’m burning, and not even the steady fall of snowflakes can extinguish it.

  I haven’t walked two blocks from the Aldridge mansion when I stumble upon my brother.

&
nbsp; “Good, I was coming to find you,” Seth mumbles, pulls the sleeve of his coat, and checks the time. “Gotta go, princess. Are you staying?”

  “Nope, I need to go home…” But I can’t just yet.

  There are things Beacon and I have to discuss before I do so. We have to clear the air. I need to make sure that things between us won’t get awkward.

  I mean, that kiss was…How do I describe it without adding feelings to it?

  You don’t kiss your best friend like that and say, “Hey, go and find your forever man.” Do you?

  That kiss felt like an “I want you to be mine forever. I want to be your guy.”

  Okay, so it was incredible and so, so good that I’m making up stuff in my head.

  How can I not when the kiss just keeps replaying in my head and makes my lips and everything inside me tingle?

  I’m so confused.

  This is one of those times where I’d call Beacon or Mom to ask for advice, and I don’t think that’s a good idea at the moment.

  Beacon is the source of all this mess.

  Mom…I can hear her saying, “He’s a celebrity. Those relationships never last. You’re better as friends.”

  She’ll then add the laundry list of stories she knows about celebrity romances going bad—including her own. The one she had when she was sixteen. She dated this famous guy who had been her friend for a long time, and it ended up in tragedy.

  The same one she used as a cautionary tale when I told her I kissed Beacon. I might’ve lied because the first kiss happened two years before. We had done a lot more since then. I felt like it was time to come clean and tell her about us. I stopped myself from telling her more. As of today, we’ve never discussed what I had with Beac.

  I can hear her already, “It won’t work. You know his reputation. Men don’t just change because they claim they’ve found the right woman. That’s just fantasy.”

  I know his reputation. The same way I know he fabricates all that publicity. I’ll never understand why he makes up so many stories. He’s not a saint, but he’s neither the playboy he personifies when he’s not at home.