Sweet Heat at Bayside (Sweet with Heat

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Sweet Heat at Bayside (Sweet with Heat Page 21

by Addison Cole


  “She left you a card, too?”

  “She left one for me and one for Dean,” Rick said. “I figured she left you one, too. She thanked us for being good bosses and said she appreciated everything we did for her. But in mine, she also said not to let you get so wrapped up in life that you forget your first love—music.”

  Drake shook his head. “Like I could ever forget that?”

  “That’s the point, man. I was thinking about why she’d tell me that, and then it dawned on me. Remember when we first opened the resort, how busy we all were with the renovations and all the paperwork and crap that went into getting it off the ground?”

  “Man, that was a crazy time.” There had been months of digging through paperwork, hiring contractors, meeting with attorneys and insurance professionals to make sure they understood the ins and outs of the business and liabilities. Serena had been with them in the trenches. In fact, she’d been the one to suggest meeting with insurance reps to find out what they didn’t know.

  “Then you remember how she used to traipse up to your apartment and grab your guitar in the middle of all the stuff we were dealing with.”

  The memory brought a wide grin and a wave of longing. “I remember. We’d be complaining about how exhausted we were or about whatever mess we were dealing with, and she’d hand me the stupid guitar, sit on her butt, cross her arms like the stubborn, beautiful woman she is, and say she wasn’t going to move until I played.”

  “Exactly,” Rick said. “She knows you. She wanted me to watch out for the most important part of you. And even though she’s not here, she’s still doing it.” He pointed to the back road, where a line of police cars was escorting a black Suburban.

  “Holy sh… What’s going on?” Drake pushed his way through the mass of people toward the commotion, but the crowd moved with them, shouting and cheering. Drake grabbed Rick’s arm. “What’s happening, Rick? This is my opening. I’ve got to know what’s going on.”

  “Control freak,” Rick hollered back. “Just go with it. Live in the moment.”

  He led Drake around the back of the stage to where their buddy Caden Grant, Evan’s father, who was a police officer, was standing guard alongside several other members of Wellfleet’s finest. The Suburban parked, and a tattooed guy stepped from the vehicle. The crowd went wild, pushing forward and shoving Drake into Rick.

  “Holy cow,” Drake said with awe. “Is that who I think it is?”

  “Boone Stryker,” Rick confirmed, holding his phone up as he videotaped Drake’s reaction. Boone was the lead guitarist in Strykeforce, Drake’s favorite band. “You can thank your girlfriend for this one. She pulled some major favors with just about everyone connected to him.”

  Drake’s chest constricted. He pulled out his phone, then realized Serena was at that stupid company event. “She’s going to miss it!”

  “That’s why I’m videoing it!” Rick hollered over the noise of the crowd. “Wow. She really did knock the wind out of you with this one.”

  Drake looked into the video camera, his emotions bowling him over. “Baby! What have you done? You should be here!” His gaze coasted over the sea of people, and his heart swelled. “I love you, Supergirl, and I will thank you properly when I see you!”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Rick said with a laugh.

  Drake couldn’t shake the awe inside him. “Baby, how did you do this?” he hollered into the video as the crowd pushed him toward the barricades. He’d read in a magazine that Boone and his wife, Trish, an actress, were both on hiatus and spending time with their son. That was just a few weeks ago. How had she managed this? “I wish you were here! Babe, there are no words! Thank you!”

  Rick and Drake barreled through the crowd, catching sight of Boone helping his wife out of the vehicle. She carried their little boy, J.R., in her arms. Drake had read that he was six or seven months old now and was named after Boone’s father, Jeremy Rykerts, which Drake remembered because he hoped to one day honor his own father in the same way.

  An entourage surrounded Boone and Trish as they made their way up to the stage with the rest of his bandmates. Stagehands were busy setting up equipment and mics. Whoops and cheers filled the air as Boone stood centerstage, his arm around Trish. Their baby wore a black-and-white onesie and a bandanna around his head.

  “Drake!” Caden waved them toward the barricades. He said something to the officer next to him, and then he made his way over to Drake and Rick and told them to come through.

  They climbed over the barricade while Caden and several other officers kept the rest of the crowd back.

  “What’s the plan?” Drake asked, feeling like a fanboy, gawking at his hero on the stage. Boone had come from nothing, literally, and had taken the music world by storm. Drake’s idol was standing before him, his brother was by his side, and they were surrounded by loads of people he knew—and hordes he didn’t—and all Drake could think about was the absence of the only woman he wanted by his side.

  Rick shrugged, but his smirk told Drake he knew exactly what Serena had been planning all along.

  “How did all these people know he was coming and I didn’t?” he asked Rick.

  “Boone tweeted earlier today.”

  Tweeted. Serena had long ago hired a social media assistant to handle their social pages for the store and the resort. He’d forgotten they even had them.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Boone’s deep voice cut through the din of the crowd, and more cheers rang out. “Thank you! My beautiful wife and I are so happy to be here to celebrate the opening of Drake Savage’s Bayside Music and Arts!” The crowd went crazy. “That’s right, so make sure you head inside before you leave and show your appreciation. Buy something from the man who brought this show to you! And just to make it even more enticing, I’ll be autographing purchases for thirty minutes after my set.”

  More applause and shouts rang out.

  “Before we get started,” Boone said as he gazed out over the crowd, “I’d like to bring Serena Mallery and my man Drake to the stage. Let’s hear it for Serena and Drake!”

  The crowd chanted, “Serena and Drake! Serena and Drake!”

  The air rushed from Drake’s lungs.

  “Go on, man.” Rick nudged him in the direction of the stage, videoing once again.

  Drake’s head spun as he crossed the stage.

  Boone was a formidable guy, and as he embraced Drake, he said, “Congrats, man. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for coming.”

  Boone put a hand on Trish’s back and said, “This is my wife, Trish, and our little man, J.R.”

  Trish opened her arms, giving Drake a warm hug. She was tall and slim, with long dark hair, and dressed in jeans and a pretty blouse, there was not a bit of pretentiousness about her. Their little boy reached for Drake and clung to his shirt. He had a fake tattoo of a heart with Mom written across it on his tiny arm.

  “I guess you get to hold J.R.,” Trish said as she handed him the little boy. “Serena said you were amazing with children.”

  A collective aww rose from the crowd.

  “Where is Serena?” Trish asked. “I was looking forward to meeting her. We’ve been talking about this event for months.”

  Months? Serena had set this up for him before they’d even come together as a couple? Drake’s heart broke even more for her to have missed it.

  “She got held up in Boston, but she wishes she could be here.” The baby reached up and touched Drake’s cheek with his soft little hand. Drake glanced in the direction where he’d left Rick and was glad to see him standing by the stage, still videoing.

  Boone handed Drake the mic and said, “Sell your business, man. Now’s your time.”

  As Drake looked out over the crowd, holding the baby in his arms, he spotted friends, neighbors, and too many strangers to count. He had no idea what he was supposed to say in a moment like this, but when he lifted the mic, his words came easily. “Thank you all
for coming out for the grand opening and to hear Boone play. Unfortunately, you’ve missed out on meeting one heck of a special woman. My girlfriend, Serena, got tied up in Boston, but she’s the one who pulled this incredible event together and made it possible for you to see this legendary musician.”

  Cheers and shouts ensued.

  “I hope you enjoy the show,” Drake said, and handed the mic back to Boone. “Thank you for coming out today. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” He stepped away.

  Boone grabbed Drake’s arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Trish took the baby from Drake and said, “Have fun!”

  She hurried off the stage as another guy handed Drake a Fender Stratocaster guitar and a pick and set up a mic. Drake shot a look at Rick, who was grinning like a fool, just like he was. He mouthed, Holy cow. This is really happening!

  “I think you know this one,” Boone said as he grabbed his guitar. He put the mic on the stand, and the pianist began playing “Don’t Stop Believin’.”

  Adrenaline pumped through Drake’s veins as his fingers hit the strings, and for the next few minutes he played like he’d never played before—and every single note, every single breath he took was for Serena.

  SERENA SCHMOOZED, SMILED, and said all the right things at KHB’s Client Appreciation Day, but the entire time she’d thought about nothing other than wanting to see Drake’s face when he opened the front doors of the store to customers for the very first time and the moment Boone showed up and Drake finally met his idol. He’d told her he wouldn’t text during her work event, and he hadn’t. She hoped that for once in his life he was enjoying the day and not worrying about her. She had dozens of messages from the girls with pictures of the opening. It looked just as fantastic as she’d hoped it would. They were lifesavers, helping out at the spur of the moment. Rick had sent a link to a video he had uploaded to YouTube of Drake hearing the news about Boone, meeting him, and playing onstage. She’d shed tears of happiness while watching, and she’d noticed that the video already had more than eleven thousand views. Trish had told her that one tweet from her and Boone would make the news of the event go viral. She must have tweeted about the video, too. Serena was sad not to have met Trish and Boone in person, but Trish had left her a message saying they were sorry they’d missed each other and they’d like to plan a trip in the fall and catch up, when there weren’t as many tourists around.

  “I know you’re upset about missing Drake’s surprise and his grand opening,” Gavin said as they headed into the parking garage after the KHB event. “But you did well in there. Your clients, and your team, love you.”

  “Thank you. You did, too,” she said as they entered the garage. “I can’t believe they do this every month. Don’t you get sick of it? It seems like more of an excuse to eat expensive food, drink, and brag about KHB’s newest design awards than anything else.”

  Clients had showed up in droves, and Suzanne gave each and every one of them a good bit of attention, which Serena was actually impressed by. “I can see the value in doing it every once in a while, but every month seems like overkill.”

  “Hey, if I were Suzanne, I’d do something once a year, and I’d invite current clients as well as past clients.”

  “Yes! Exactly. Fewer events could yield higher returns, bringing back past clients and making everyone want to attend because it’s special. I spent my internship working for a design firm in Dartmouth and learning from my sixty-plus-year-old boss. That man had been around. He’s since retired and sold his company, but he believed grassroots marketing efforts and personalized service went a lot further than putting on airs. And I have to tell you, that shaped my thinking.”

  “That’s a good thing. Companies who rely on spending to earn end up having more trouble when economies tank.” Gavin pointed to his car. “That’s mine.”

  “Enjoy the rest of your weekend, and I’ll see you Monday.”

  “You too. And, Serena, I know it seems like you’re constantly fighting the system, but I want you to know that I appreciate the fact that you stand up for what you believe in. You’re a refreshing change to have around and a good reminder of how much I’ve changed.” The sincerity in his eyes shone in stark contrast to the usual lightheartedness she saw.

  “Really? What happened to your small-town roots keeping you grounded?”

  He shook his head with a wry smile. “A stubborn chick showed up and unknowingly made me realize that I accept crap even when I don’t agree with it. Maybe it’s time for me to change that.”

  She took a few steps toward the row her car was in and said, “Why do I have the feeling I’m going to be blamed for something bad in the near future?”

  He laughed as he unlocked his car and waved.

  She sat in her car and watched the video of Drake again. Elated for him, she sent off a quick text before leaving the garage. More than 11,000 views. I’m dating a rock star! I’m not above kicking the life out of fangirls, so don’t get any ideas, Mr. Hottie. Xox.

  Two and a half hours later, she climbed out of her car at the resort and inhaled the salty sea air. She followed the undercurrent of smoky wood toward the Bayside community center, where Hagen was sitting on Drake’s lap roasting marshmallows beside Mira and Matt. Emery held a stick over the fire, and behind her Dean stood with one hand on her shoulder, talking on his cell phone. Serena’s entire being exhaled, releasing all her stress and disappointment.

  Hagen hopped off Drake’s lap, and as Drake took the marshmallow off the stick, Hagen spotted Serena. He dropped the stick, getting sticky marshmallow all over Drake, and sprinted toward her, yelling, “Auntie Serena is here!”

  “Don’t touch her—” Mira called out.

  She scooped Hagen into her arms. Her eyes met Drake’s as he rose to his feet, pushing away all the shadows in her heart. A bottomless sense of peace came over her, and she knew this was where she was meant to be. This was home. But her life had become complicated, and she had no idea what home really meant anymore.

  “Hey, kiddo!” She kissed Hagen’s cheek.

  “We’re making s’mores,” he said as he wriggled free. “Uncle Drake is using two pieces of chocolate instead of graham crackers because we ran out. See?” He held up his sticky chocolate fingers.

  Mira rushed over. “I’m sorry! I tried to stop him.”

  Serena looked down at the forest-green V-neck dress she’d worn to the event. There were little chocolate handprints on her hip and shoulder and a chocolate smear across the three sheer lines of material at her waist. After spending the day doing her best to look and act professional and comfortable, being prim and proper and saying all the right things, careful to sit with her knees together and watch her language, she couldn’t help but laugh.

  She ran her finger along the chocolate on her dress and touched it to Hagen’s nose, earning silly giggles. “I wonder if you can convince Uncle Drake to make me one, too? I think chocolate will go a long way tonight.”

  “Uncle Drake, will you make her a s’more?” Hagen ran to Drake as he approached and tugged on Drake’s shirt.

  Drake reached down and patted Hagen’s head. “I’ll make her anything she wants, buddy.”

  “Hey, gorgeous.” Drake reached for her hand, pulling her against him and kissing her smiling lips. “I didn’t expect you tonight.”

  “I couldn’t stay away,” she said honestly. After watching the video again, all she’d wanted was to be in his arms.

  “You blew me away today, Supergirl. I want to hear all about your day.”

  He kissed her again, and all she could think about was how he blew her away every day with his endless patience and encouragement.

  Drake looked down at her chest pressed against his sternum. “I’m getting marshmallow in your chocolate.”

  She lowered her voice and said, “Careful. If you get any on my skin, you might have to lick it off.”

  Heat flared in his eyes. “Hagen,” he said without taking his eyes o
ff Serena. “Let’s get busy melting those marshmallows. Uncle Drake has an insatiable appetite. We might need to use the whole bag.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  DRAKE AWOKE TO Serena’s soft lips kissing their way down his stomach. He didn’t even try to suppress his smile as he threaded his fingers into her hair, loving the feel of it—and her hot mouth—against his skin. He’d wanted to take her home the minute he’d seen her beautiful face appear in the darkness last night, but they’d stayed at the bonfire catching up with the others for almost an hour before they’d finally turned in.

  She kissed her way back up his body, passion brimming in her eyes, so different from the joy that had radiated off her when he’d seen her in her office. That happiness had driven him to toy with the idea of buying the guitar store that was going out of business in Boston. Leaving the Cape had never been in his plans, but as he’d come to realize, neither had a life without Serena.

  “I love you, Supergirl,” he said vehemently. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember.”

  “A big YouTube star like you?” A rascally look rose in her eyes. “I bet you say that to all the fangirls.”

  “Only the really special one who loved me before I was famous.”

  The emotions in her eyes told him how she felt before she said another word. But when she said, “I loved you when you were a skinny teenager carrying around a beat-up guitar and too cool to like me back,” sweetly and honestly, he got all choked up.

  “I was never too cool for you. You’ve always been out of my league.” He pressed his lips to hers, then said, “And just so we’re clear, sass-mouth, other than family, you’re the only woman I’ve ever said those three words to.”

  Her eyes filled with darkness so alluring, so lustful, his mouth watered. His every fantasy come true. The woman he loved, every gorgeous curve his for the loving.

  “Take all of me, rock star,” she whispered.

  “So trusting,” he whispered as he pressed kisses to her cheeks. “So sweet.

 

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