by Piper Rayne
I roll my eyes and push my hands down on the table so I can lean in, only inches away from him.
“I’m warning you now, stop making me feel guilty. I made a mistake.”
His hands fly up in the air. “You’ve fallen for her.” He points his fork my way again and this time Via reaches out to grab it, but Jagger moves it out of her reach. “I can’t even stop you anymore, you’ve been branded by her.”
“I have not been branded, but yes”—I check to make sure Payne is busy—“I have fallen for her. She’s amazing.”
“Cue glistening eyes and heart pupils.” Jagger buries his head into his meal, his fork scratching along the plate.
“Uncle Jagger is angry,” I say to Via, who is too busy making her eggs and ketchup into a masterpiece to care.
“Now you’re talking baby talk?” He shakes his head, sipping his coffee.
“What did I miss?” Leo slides in next to Jagger.
After shifting closer to the wall, Jagger takes another bite of his pancake before speaking. “Just that Vance is a pussy who can’t keep his dick in his pants.” Jagger’s voice is on that edge between annoyed and joking, but I’m pretty sure he’s venturing into more annoyed territory right now.
“Whoa.” Leo moves to cover Via’s ears. “Innocent ears, man.”
I raise my eyebrows.
Jagger rolls his eyes. “Where are my boys? You’ve both turned so domesticated.”
The waitress comes over, pen and paper poised over her pad, and looks to Leo.
“Just coffee, in a to-go. I gotta run.”
“Run? You aren’t going to eat?” I ask because I’d like him to be a buffer between Jagger and me.
“No, I gotta do an Instagram live thing at the shop.”
“What?” Jagger mumbles with a full mouth, cocking an eyebrow at Leo.
Leo picks up a fork and stabs a three-stack of cut-up pancakes off Jagger’s plate. “Marketing, man.”
Jagger slides his plate away from Leo. “You need a PR person.”
Leo swallows down the pancakes. “No way. I’m not giving up control to some millennial who’s going to tell me I need to connect more with my audience, appeal to my ideal consumer, blah, blah, blah.”
“You’re insane. Your business will suffer if you don’t hand over some responsibility soon. You’re growing way too fast.”
See why I wanted Leo to stick around? Jagger’s moved on to fixing Leo’s life now. Jagger is, and always will be, a fixer.
The waitress returns with Leo’s coffee and a second later he’s standing with his to-go cup in his hand.
“Duggie?” Via reaches out to Leo with a ketchup-covered hand, marking his pants.
“Shit,” he says, examining the damage. Then he bends down to Via and makes a funny face at her while he says, “You’re one lucky girl it was me and not him.” He points to Jagger.
Via giggles.
Leo points outside. “Doggie is outside and needs to get to work.” He winks and then waves at us out the door.
“He’s a moron,” Jagger says, taking another sip of his coffee.
I shake my head. “You’re so opinionated. Why don’t you let us all live our lives?” I ask. “Payne,” I call him over.
“Because you’re bound to screw it up. Mark my words, this situation you’ve gotten yourself in is trouble.” Jagger pushes his plate away, wiping his mouth with the napkin and throwing the balled-up paper on his plate.
“You have no idea what the future holds.”
“Allow me to go Oprah on your ass for a second because here’s what I know for sure—this is L.A., she’s an actress with one marriage under her belt. You’re an aspiring scriptwriter who needs to concentrate on his career for a while and not worry about dipping his writer’s pen in the fountain of youth. This shit is highly combustible material and you’re dancing around all over the place with a lit match. Do I like what’s going on? No, I don’t, not because I don’t want you to have a wife or a kid, but because I’m a dream-maker. That’s what I do for my clients. I make their dreams come true.” He slides out of the booth, grabbing cash from inside his suit jacket, tossing it on the table. “Enjoy playing house, but if the tabloids find out who you are, she’s going to be pissed and you can forget her doing the film, which means we’ll be back to square one searching for a new investor.”
“Jagger, I plan on telling her.”
His entire body stiffens. “No. You have to keep it quiet at this point.”
“I can’t. She has to know the truth.”
I’ll admit, I’ve waffled myself about coming clean, but the reality is that if I want Layla and I to stand a real chance of lasting I have to tell her the truth.
He blows out a breath, stuffs his hands in the pockets of his slacks, rolling back on his heels. “Do me a favor. We’re flying out to Chicago to meet the investor in two weeks. Just give me until then. Maybe if Hannah loves that boyish grin of yours she’ll still invest after Layla tells you to go fuck yourself.”
“Jagger.” I nod to Via.
“She’s playing with her eggs and ketchup, she doesn’t even understand what we’re saying.”
Payne runs over, finally growing bored of the game and willing to eat his breakfast.
“See you, buddy.” Jagger holds out his fist for a bump.
Payne stares at it and then me and limply fist-bumps him. Guess Jagger Kale doesn’t win everyone over.
“Remember what I said, Vance. Two weeks.” Jagger makes a motion to seal his lips and throw the key away.
I roll my eyes. Dork. “Say bye to Jagger.”
Payne says, “Bye,” and Via waves her soiled hand toward him.
“See you, Manny dearest.”
Then it’s just the three of us left, so I take a selfie of us all and send Layla the picture, taking a moment to stare at the screen and think of how much I’d miss these two if Jagger’s right and this all goes to shit because I’ve been an idiot.
Chapter 17
Layla
“Something smells yummy.” I shut the front door, take off my jacket and place my bag on the floor of the foyer.
Redoing a scene today where I’m stuck in the back of the smallest car ever has left my back aching. On the way to the kitchen to find out what’s baking, I stop to try to crack my back a few times.
A smile graces my lips the minute I step into the sweet-smelling space. There’s flour on the floor, sugar in Vance’s hair, a broken egg on the counter.
“Is there actually something baking, or did you just spread everything around?”
Vance turns from the oven, and I’m sucker-punched by the magnitude of his smile, as if he’s waited all day to see me. He points to the hallway and glances to the family room. There are the kids, Payne on his stomach watching a cartoon and Via lost in her bucket of toys.
I backstep out of the room, but not as fast as Vance approaches me. My back hits the solid wall of his chest and he spins me to face him, his fingers looping through the belt loops of my jeans, and he smashes his lips to mine. It doesn’t take long for our mouths to find our rhythm, our tongues teasing and dancing with each other. I grip his strong shoulders, keeping him exactly where he’s standing.
The kiss ends and he rests his forehead on mine. “I missed you.”
It’s almost as if I can feel the pang of Cupid’s arrow, searing me to this man. I’m not sure Carver ever told me he missed me—ever. And we’d been separated for months at a time depending on where and what we were filming.
“You did?”
He draws back, tilting his head in a questioning way. I smack his chest and he chuckles. “When will you stop doubting my attraction to you?” His arms pull me into a hug, his lips finding his favorite spot—or maybe mine—to kiss my neck.
“It’s not that. I can feel your attraction pressing into my stomach right now. I’m just surprised. You seem to have gone from fun flirting to putting a ring on it.” I raise my hand. “Not that I’m looking for a ring,” I add
.
“You’re right.”
“I am?” Now it’s my head drawing back.
“Yeah.” He shrugs one shoulder and my eyes zero in on his biceps. Another tight t-shirt covering it up. “Are you a witch?” He leans forward, his eyes glimmering with mirth as they stare into mine. “Did you sneak some kind of potion into my drink? I mean it couldn’t possibly be because you’re beautiful, or because you’re funny, or you know what?” He raises his finger in the air. “My mom always said to stick with a woman who can cook and clean.” He takes his finger and runs it along the edge of the table. “I guess one out of two isn’t bad, right?”
I smack his stomach and he chuckles, linking his hand with mine and pulling me further into the kitchen.
“So, what did you bake?” I ask, sitting down on the breakfast stool and swiping some sugar off the counter.
Vance concentrates on my finger as I lick the sugar off. Once I realize he’s staring, I place it in my mouth and suck it off.
“Well, Payne said you love sugar cookies.” He takes a couple of steps to the side and glances into the family room. “He lasted until the eggs,” he whispers.
I chuckle. “Sounds about right.”
He wipes down the counter. “Bad part is I have no dinner because I guess I’m not the baker I thought I was.”
“You thought you were a baker?” My eyes find the sink full of discarded bowls and spoons and I stifle a laugh.
“My mom had a rule during the holidays. Everyone does something. I always did desserts with my sister. I guess I never realized she did the majority of the work.” His lips tip up at the corner in that ‘I kind of really knew that though’ way.
“I bet your sister has a lot of stories about you.”
He pours me a glass of wine and places it in front of me. “It’ll be a long time before you meet Charlie.”
“Charlie’s your sister?”
He twists open his beer bottle with his shirt, granting me a sneak peek of that taut stomach that sends a thrill straight to my girly parts.
“Charlotte, actually, but the entire town calls her Charlie. She recently just hooked up with my best friend from high school.”
My eyes widen. “You allowed that?”
He chuckles, his head falling back. “You’ll understand how I have zero control over what she does or doesn’t do when you meet my sister.”
The fact he’s implying that I will one day meet her calms the nerves that have been running like a freight train through my veins lately. I mean, is Vance really different than every other man in this town? He feels different, but this city sells fantasy for a living.
“Plus”—he rolls his eyes—“she’s loved him since she was a kid, so I kinda think she deserves him and I couldn’t have handpicked a better guy for her. They’re expecting their first child together and I’m telling you… I couldn’t be more excited to be an uncle.”
I sip my wine, admiring the way he talks about his family. There’s a warmth in his voice that seems to be reserved only for them. Carver hated his and never even invited them to the baptism for either Payne or Via. I’m not a huge fan of mine since they siphoned money away from me when I was a kid, but I tolerate them. At times they were all I had.
“Tell me about your town,” I say, not wanting him to stop, wanting to know anything and everything about this man.
He leans against the counter, staring off toward the fridge. “It’s a small town in Oregon. One where everyone knows everyone’s business, but it’s also the kindest town with the best people. Yeah, it can take you about an hour to run an errand because of how many people you have to stop and chat up, but everyone wants the best for everyone. There’s fundraisers when someone has a hardship, a Christmas parade and a tree-lighting ceremony everyone attends. Sometimes I think I’ll end up back there if I visit too much, so I keep my distance.”
“Makes me wonder why you ever left.”
A soft laugh comes from his closed mouth. When he talks to his feet, his lips tip down for the first time in our conversation. “I wanted more. I wanted to be part of the rich and famous lifestyle, wanted to be the superstar.” He shrugs.
“How many scripts have you sold?”
He raises his head and inhales a deep breath. “This is my first.” His voice is so low I can barely hear him.
“Then what have you been doing? Did you come down here to act originally?” I sip my wine, wondering if I’m prying too much, but he’s been so open tonight and I figure he’ll tell me if I am.
“No, I wanted to be a scriptwriter since I moved to L.A. a decade ago. My first one was horrible and I kept getting rejections. Eventually all the money I had saved up was gone and I had to find a job.” He downs a big gulp of beer. “I took a job as an assistant to an assistant of a producer. Over the years, I climbed my way up.”
“Long hours, I bet.”
He huffs. “Yeah, but then last year I realized I hadn’t been happy for a while and decided it was time to finally do what I set out to do. Try to make the dream happen.”
I smile. “That’s awesome. That takes a lot of guts.” I lean across the counter. “Makes me want to act even better for your film so it’s a success.” I laugh so he knows I’m totally joking.
He nods. “I still wonder if it’s actually going to happen. I’ll believe it when I’m walking down that red carpet.”
I place my hand on his forearm. “It will happen and it’s going to be a great success. I have intuition on these things.”
“Unless you’re psychic, I’ll be one breath from an anxiety attack until then.” He chugs the rest of his beer and the bottle clinks onto my granite countertop.
“So, what did you produce? Anything I’d know?”
The buzzer goes off for the cookies and Payne runs into the kitchen.
“Hi, Mommy!” He gives me a quick hug and then looks at Vance. “Are they ready?” He’s jumping up and down, excitement brimming out of him.
“Hold on, let me get them out.” Vance takes the tray out and the circular sugar cookies look lightly browned and the perfect amount of crisp.
“I’d say you do that pretty well.”
Vance shares a heated look with me before returning his attention to the baking tray. Via toddles in, so I pick her up before she latches onto Vance’s leg.
“I’m crossing fingers they taste as good as they look.” He catches my eyes above Payne’s head and I so want to kiss him right now, but I know I can’t do that to the kids just yet. We need more time before the kids think anything is going on with us.
“Can I have one?” Payne asks, his fingers already moving to the hot sheet.
“Let them cool for at least a couple of minutes,” Vance says and then his gaze veers over to me again. “And you have to ask your mom.” He winks.
“Make me the bad guy, huh?” I move Via’s hands away from reaching out. “One each and then dinner.”
“Yay!” Payne runs around in circles. Via takes the cue from her brother and follows suit, screaming her excitement even though she doesn’t know what’s going on.
“How about we order pizza for dinner?” Vance asks, pulling his phone out.
“You do realize you’re going to have to write in that your female lead is ten pounds heavier pretty soon, right?” I place Via in her high chair and glance over my shoulder at him.
Vance’s eyes are focused on my ass. “You have no problem there.”
A supercharged current concentrates itself between my legs. If my kids weren’t here, I think I’d crawl up on the counter and have him eat me rather than the cookies.
Vance shuts Payne’s door quietly behind him. I’ll admit my feelings were a tad hurt when Payne asked for Vance to read him his story tonight instead of me. Even with my heart soaring seeing the two of them side by side on Payne’s bed reading about dinosaurs, I kind of wish there was room for three.
Via’s been fast asleep since right after dinner so I check on her and then shut the door, leaving us a
lone in the hallway.
“I have to frost the cookies,” Vance says, dodging me in my bedroom doorway and heading down the stairs.
“Seriously?” I ask, flabbergasted that the man who’s been eyeing my tits and ass all night just passed up on the promise of seeing them in all their glory to… frost cookies.
“I promised Payne I’d do it,” he tosses out over his shoulder before heading down the stairs.
Reluctantly, I follow. “Vance.” I stand in the doorway to the kitchen where he’s pulling out a stainless-steel bowl.
He looks up at me. “Don’t worry, babe, I plan on sugaring your cookie tonight, too.” He winks.
I push off the wall and decide I might as well help him to get it done faster. “Do you know how to make icing?” I ask, watching him dump a bunch of powdered sugar into a bowl.
“Not really, but I looked up a recipe online.”
“Okay, pull out your phone.”
“I looked at it earlier. I think I can wing it.”
I cock an eyebrow. Not that I’m a better option. Other than playing a baker’s assistant for a made-for-TV movie once, I know nothing about baking. “Interesting. Do you wing everything you do?”
He pours the milk in without measuring. “Pretty sure you enjoy it when I wing it.” He knocks his shoulder to mine and places his lips out for me, requesting a kiss.
I grant his wish, planting a short kiss to his lips, and then he pours some vanilla into the bowl. It’s anyone’s guess as to how much.
“I’m pretty sure baking isn’t like cooking. You need to measure.” I hoist myself up on the counter.
Grabbing the hand mixer, he starts beating the ingredients together. Ingredients I didn’t even know I had. I have to assume my mom bought them when she made Christmas pies here last month.
“Trust me,” he says, and even though I know he’s just talking about the cookies, I find that I do—on an even deeper level.