by Lane Hayes
“You told me he’s hot and single.”
“And straight,” I reminded him. “Straight men are off-limits.”
“Good call. So… who is your type?” Tim chuckled at my bewildered expression. “It’s a fair question. You’ve got men and women clamoring to climb into your bed, but you always go home alone.”
“I like it that way. I have a hard enough time keeping myself sane. I can’t imagine adding anyone or anything to the mix.”
“True, but trust me, getting laid on the regular helps the sanity issue.” Tim waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“This is your idea of sane?” I asked as Rand and Cory barreled into the room, trading insults and shoving each other like a couple of kindergartners in a playground brawl.
“For now, this is as good as it gets. Call the sexy Brit. I heard he’s doing a Broadway show or something like that.”
“I’m gonna pass.”
“Why? He’s tall, dark, handsome, gay, and obviously interested. Oh—you fucked him.” The “aha” in Tim’s tone was entertaining, but I had more pressing things on my mind than a one-night stand with a good-looking actor I hardly remembered.
“You know I have a strict No Repeat rule, Timmy. I don’t have time for complications.”
“I get it—” Tim glanced up when someone tapped on the door. “Hey, Tara. How’s it going?”
“G-good. Um… good,” she stammered. Her face went from light pink to bright red in seconds flat. If she didn’t seem so fragile, I would have loved teasing her.
“Did you need something?” I asked gently. I stood and moved toward the door.
“Y-yes, b-but I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Don’t worry. It’s cool,” I assured her.
“Uh, y-yes. Ed wanted you to know there was an itinerary change. He said you should ch-check your e-mails.”
Huh? There was no way Ed sent his secretary to tell us to check our mail. We were grown-ups. And the guy who had two secretaries who checked his e-mail would be the last to remind anyone else to stay on top of theirs. The more plausible explanation for Tara lurking was she was on her break and decided to stop by and watch the band practice. Which was totally fine. We had a huge staff we considered family. Unless the door was closed, we welcomed everyone. In fact sometimes we hoped they’d come in to give us a diversion from each other.
“Got it. I’ll tell the guys. Thanks for stopping by.”
Tara’s answering smile was timid at first. She looked down immediately to hide her blush and then glanced up at me again with a worshipful grin. I returned the gesture and gave myself a mental high five at what I took to be progress. When she bit her purple glossed lips and muttered something about getting back to work, with her head bent at an awkward angle, I had a feeling I was being too optimistic.
“Someone has a crush on you,” Tim whispered.
“I know, but it’s weird. She’s sweet, but she’s so shy around me. It kinda creeps me out.”
“She wouldn’t hurt a flea. She just wants to gaze at her guitar hero. Hey, think she might be your biggest fan?”
I knew he was joking, but I thought about it for a moment. “No, I don’t.”
“Hmph. Well, try to put it out of your mind. We’ve all got to get through the next few months mentally and physically in one piece. Do it your way,” he said with a wink.
It was sound advice. I had to find a way to make the excess noise in my life bearable for the next couple of months.
LATER THAT evening I was convinced there was no way to make the unwanted shadow in my life bearable. Brian annoyed me. As we made our way to the waiting car, he used his body to shield me from pedestrians in a maneuver that seemed more appropriate for the president’s Secret Service detail. I had a flashback to earlier in the morning at Starbucks when he’d practically shoved a lady who reached for her latte at the same time I did. Her drink spilled over the counter and splashed her suede boots. I doubted she gave a fuck what my name was after that fiasco.
“You’re going overboard, Bri,” I said in a calm voice.
“It’s my job to—”
“Smother me? No. It’s not. I’m not being trailed. I shouldn’t be racing out of buildings like a fugitive.” I furrowed my brow as I leaned forward to address the driver. “Drop me off at the market on Greenwich.”
Brian looked like he wanted to protest but wisely kept his mouth shut even though questioning my reasoning would have been valid. I used a food delivery service. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d set foot in a grocery store. It had to have been months. Whatever. It hardly mattered. I had a strong desire to do something “normal.”
We rode in silence for the ten-minute drive. When the driver pulled in front of the corner store, I reached for the door handle and attempted a stealthy getaway. It was locked.
Brian gave me a bland look before exiting on the curbside and holding the door for me.
I hurried past a woman walking a Chihuahua and darted inside the small market. Of course he followed. He picked up a green basket and handed it to me, wearing that same dull expression.
“Thanks. I’ve got it from here. You can wait for me in the car or… better yet, take the night off. I can get myself home.”
“I can’t do that, sir. You’re my responsibility,” Brian answered in a low tone.
I gritted my teeth, then swiped my hand over my mouth in frustration, and nodded absently. “Fine. But give me some space. Don’t… walk next to me,” I hissed, managing to sound like a put-upon diva. Or just an asshole.
I adjusted my Yankees cap and headed down the first aisle on my right. Prepackaged containers filled with specialty raisins, nuts, and grains were stacked neatly next to a row of cereal. I studied the Kashi boxes for a full minute before glancing back at Brian standing guard a couple of feet away. What the hell was I doing? I should go home. Skulking in markets wasn’t “normal,” and it wasn’t particularly fun. I grabbed my phone from my pocket for the sake of diversion and impulsively dialed the first number that popped up on my screen.
“Yo. What’s up, roomie?”
“Yo? You’ve been in New York for three months. When did you start talking like a native?” I asked with a half laugh.
“That’s how I roll. Where are you? You sound funny.”
“Funny how?”
“Like you’re pissed. It can’t be me. I haven’t seen you lately. Unless you figured out I played your guitar while you were gone, but—nah. I took good care of it. Can’t be that. What did I do?”
“It’s not you.” My brow creased in puzzlement. “Which guitar?”
“The Fender in the guestroom. I don’t play electric often. It was cool to plug in and let it rip.”
“I can’t believe no one complained.”
“They did. The downstairs neighbor, Janie Meier, tattled. I made her some cookies and apologized. We’re cool now. She loves me.”
“You made cookies?”
“Yep. I make a mean chocolate chip,” he said proudly.
I grinned and almost immediately some of my angst slipped from my shoulders. “You’ll have to make them for me sometime. I love chocolate chip cookies and—oh hey! I’m at the market. Text me the ingredients you need and I’ll get ’em now.”
Genius! I wouldn’t have to wander the aisles like a lost kid. Lame as it was, a cookie-ingredient run was at least a reason to be here.
“Uh… really?”
“Sure, I love cookies,” I said in a cheery tone.
“O-kay. Let me think. Baking soda and chocolate chips for sure. Did you eat eggs this morning? There were three when I left at six.”
“I have no idea how many eggs there are. Are you home? Check the fridge.”
“I’m on a run. Or I was. I’m walking up Greenwich Street now. Where are you?”
“I’m at the market around the corner. I—”
“What do you know? I’m a half block away. I’ll see you inside in a minute.”
Ad
am hung up before I could protest. Not that I would have. I liked the idea of him providing a buffer between my stoic gatekeeper and me. I perused the cereal selection while I waited. I picked up a box and made a show of reading the ingredients. Cinnamon Harvest Crunch. Hmm. I picked up the next one. Berry Blossoms. I put them both in my basket and wandered down the cramped aisle, sensing Brian behind me. I started to turn around when a booming voice called my name like we were miles apart in a rainforest instead of the length of a shopping lane in a small family-owned market.
“Shh!” I waved Adam over and wordlessly signaled to Brian that everything was cool.
“Why are we whispering?” Adam asked, picking the Berry Blossoms Kashi from my basket. “This stuff is no good. Too much sugar. I’ll make you real granola. It’s better than eating store-bought anyway.”
He placed it back on the shelf and gave me a megawatt grin. Damn, he was sexy. He was dressed in black workout leggings, and an electric blue T-shirt that made his eyes pop. His hair was tousled and damp with sweat. Old friend or not, it was hard to deny the guy was seriously hot. I gulped and looked back at Brian.
“The guy standing near the kombucha tea is my bodyguard. He’s nice enough, but he’s driving me crazy.”
Adam and Brian engaged in brief staring contest while I pretended to check out a container of carob chips.
“I remember him. You have to shop with a bodyguard too, huh?”
“There’ve been a few posts from an overzealous fan, and the studio is taking precautionary measures while we’re in high-profile touring mode.” I angled my head sideways. “He’s my precautionary measure. I know he means well, but it’s overkill. I can’t walk two steps without his dick nudging my ass.”
“Thanks for the visual,” Adam murmured, snatching the carob chips from my hand.
“Sorry.” I snickered as I reached for the container again.
Adam stilled my hand and smacked it lightly. “Let’s get the real thing. Come on. I’ll show you what’s what. And I’ll protect you from your bodyguard. The guy’s scrawny. I could take him easy.”
“I think I could too,” I said with a confident nod.
Adam rolled his eyes before moving with purpose down the aisle and around the corner to the next one. I bumped into his back when he stopped suddenly in front of the spice display.
“I think we’re out of vanilla.” He flashed a smile and tossed a small bottle into the basket I was carrying. “On to the real chocolate chips. They should be down here.”
I stared after him, then looked to see if Brian had followed us. Yep. I fought back a new wave of irritation before trudging toward Adam, who was busy studying two bags of chocolate morsels at the far end of the baking aisle.
“No, let’s get the carob chips. They’re naturally low in fat, high in calcium, and they don’t have caffeine,” I informed him, managing to sound like a ridiculous know-it-all.
Adam gave me a blank stare and didn’t look away until I chuckled.
“Yeah. Let’s never put you in charge of dessert. Suggestions like that immediately get filed under ‘how to kill the fun.’ The real decision is dark chocolate or semisweet.”
“Why not milk chocolate?” I asked with a lopsided grin, expecting and quickly receiving another incredulous look.
“Milk chocolate is for candy bars. And you just sealed your fate as second-in-command. I’m in charge now,” he announced, placing a bag of semisweet chips in the basket before moving to the baking soda nearby.
“Of cookies, sure. Hey, how do you know your way around this place so well?” I asked, idly reading the instructions for how to make a seven-layer bar on a bag of butterscotch chips.
“I’m here or at the Whole Foods down the street every other day.”
“Why?”
“Because I like to eat. I think that’s all we need.” Adam nodded and then snapped his fingers. “Oh… brown sugar. And I might as well grab a couple more things while we’re here. Are you going to be around tonight?”
“I think so.” I glanced back at Brian, who was naturally a few steps behind. “I don’t want to go out with him in tow.”
“Afraid he’ll mess with your game?” Adam’s eyes twinkled mischievously.
“Oh, I know he would. Are you working later?”
“No, I’m off. Maybe I should make those cookies tonight.”
“Cool. I’ll help.” My smile morphed into a low chuckle when he rolled his eyes and moved toward the rice-and-pasta section.
I stared at his wide shoulders for a moment. This would be a first. So far most of our interaction had been abbreviated. This could be a good thing. If nothing else, it would give me a chance to ask some pointed questions about his exodus from Springville.
“What do you think of stir-fry?”
“Stir-fry is good. I’m vegetarian, so—”
“Vega-what?”
Adam stopped in his tracks. His thick brow was knit in confusion laced with distaste. I wasn’t offended, though. The name Springville might evoke greens and healthy living, but it was a mecca for greasy fast food and red-meat lovers. Vegetarianism was still a foreign concept there. At least it had been when I was growing up.
“I don’t eat meat.”
“How about fish?”
“If I ate fish, I’d be a pescatarian.”
“Any other weird things I should know about you?” Adam stood with his hands on his hips. He looked like a badass. In light of the current topic of conversation, his fierce scowl and rigid stance were hysterical.
“That’s not weird,” I insisted with a half laugh. “You better get used to the idea that not everyone eats burgers. You might end up dating a non-meat-lover here. Anything goes in New York.”
“I’m not dating anybody,” Adam snorted as he turned to study the display of rice. “But last week I was out with someone from the bar and overheard the conversation from the table next to us. The guy orders a burger, then stops the waiter to ask in-depth questions about the beef. Was it grass-fed? Where was the farm? How far was it from the city? I swear to God. It was like… dude, they don’t give Social Security cards to cows. You’re gonna have to take a chance.”
“I don’t blame him. You should know what you put in your body,” I insisted.
Adam dropped a bag of brown rice in my basket.
“Sure, but—” He stopped in his tracks and stared at a fellow shopper standing at the far end of the aisle.
“What’s wrong?”
“That woman with her cell resting on her boobs is staring at us. I think she’s not-so-subtly taking your picture. Is this where your bodyguard tackles her to the ground and calls for backup to confiscate her phone and throw her in jail?”
“Don’t give him any ideas. And don’t alert him either. I’m used to it now. Most of the time people are cool. Occasionally they’ll ask for an autograph or a selfie. It’s not a big deal to ramble around Manhattan. It’s when you sit still for any length of time that you’re asking for trouble. We should probably check out, though,” I suggested.
“All right.” Adam repositioned himself so he stood between the woman and me. Then he casually pointed at a nearby bottle of sriracha sauce. “You like spicy food still, don’t you? You used to love my mom’s chili. You know she added extra peppers for you.”
“She did?” I studied his profile while he studied condiments.
“Yep. I’d say, ‘Easy with the hot stuff, Ma,’ and she’d just shake her head. ‘Isaac loves it this way,’” he singsonged in a falsetto as he tossed the sriracha in the basket. “I’m ready. Let’s beat it.”
I stared after him for a moment. His offhand talk of home and food had conjured warm thoughts of simpler times. I could almost imagine we were in a time warp and Ned might pop around the corner any second, wondering why we ditched him. Time and space had created a divide, but something intrinsic was still here. It was comforting to be reminded there were people who hadn’t forgotten the real me.
ADAM AND I finished our
shopping, then walked the three blocks to my building, much to Brian’s chagrin. He pulled me aside outside the market door, darting his gaze up and down the darkened street like a cartoon private eye. The second that thought crossed my mind, I had a hard time not laughing outright. He was much too serious for his own good.
“Mr. Dalton, your driver is waiting—”
“Enjoy the ride. I’m walking with Adam.” I turned to my friend and gave him a wide-eyed, meaningful look. “You’ll make sure I get home in one piece, right?”
“Of course. Or I’ll bring your body to shore if anyone throws you in the East River,” Adam deadpanned. I barked a quick laugh but sobered immediately when I saw the joke was lost on Brian.
“He’s kidding,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll see you later.”
I didn’t give Brian a chance to respond. I hefted my grocery bag and headed north on Greenwich Street. There was a farcical element to my current predicament. I was walking on a sparsely populated sidewalk next to a six-foot-four former high-school star linebacker while being “protected” by a much smaller man trailing us like Inspector Clouseau.
“I cannot believe this is my life.” I hung my head mournfully as we waited at the crosswalk.
“Is he making cookies with us?” Adam brushed my arm and gave me a wry grin before crossing the street.
“Hell no. And don’t invite him. Remember my home and the studio are free zones.”
“If the guy bugs you so much, get a new bodyguard. They can’t be that hard to come by.” Adam shifted his bag and peered at me. “Geez, I wonder what he gets paid to follow you around all day. I’d do it for half.”
“You’d drive me crazy too.”
“Hey, we’ve been roommates for a couple weeks, and so far it’s not so bad.” Adam nodded to the doorman and gave him a fist-bump before moving into the lobby.
“That might change if we actually had to spend any length of time together,” I said, pressing the elevator button.
“No way. You like me too much. And after you try one of my cookies, you’re gonna love me.” Adam jumped into the elevator and held the door open for me, smiling slyly. The chivalrous gesture, twinkling gaze, and handsome façade made me gulp. “What’s wrong?”