Chapter Ten
“I’m so excited, I could wet myself.” Lucy stood in front of the mirror hanging in the entryway and yanked down her black shirt.
“You act like you’ve never met a musician before,” Rachael said from the couch. “Didn’t Ricky Waters play at StoneMill last weekend?”
Lucy gaped. “You’re comparing Ricky Waters to Cole Turner? Not even close! Cole’s got that charisma, you know?” She snapped. “He’s got that thing.”
Oh, he had that thing all right. She’d seen it and couldn’t erase the image from her mind. She’d tasted him, and couldn’t scrape the yumminess from her tongue.
“Do I look like someone who likes rock music?” Widening her stance, Lucy stuck out her tongue and gave the “I-L-U” sign with her fingers. Or was that the “party hard” sign? Crimson-red curls framed her face. Leather pants stretched tight around her thighs, and black rubber bracelets circled her wrist. “What do you think?”
Lucy was the youngest and wildest entrepreneur Rachael knew. Looking at all she’d done with her life and the weight of the responsibility she bore, it was easy for Rachael to forget that Lucy was only twenty-one when she took over StoneMill after her parents’ passing. She’d always been crazy, a little wild and off-kilter. Owning a successful winery hadn’t changed the person she was at the core, thank goodness.
“If you’re trying to look like a Billy Idol groupie,” Rachael said, sifting through the contents of her purse. “You’re there.”
“Mission accomplished. What are you digging around in there for, anyway?” Lucy lined her lips with glossy pink lipstick and gave an overenthusiastic pucker.
“Nothing.” Rachael pulled out her wallet, opened it up and separated her ID and VISA from her other cards. “I’m getting ready.”
“Aren’t you taking your bag?”
“And risk getting it stolen?”
Lucy spun, glaring. “You honestly think someone’s going to snatch and run at my winery? You know how much I pay for security, and if you don’t, let me tell you it’s an arm and a leg.”
“Yet you still seem to have both of yours.“ Grinning, Rachael slid the cards into her front pocket. “I still can’t believe you’re here. It’s not like you to hand off your duties to Skylie.”
Skylie Evans was Lucy’s operating manager, and the only one she’d found who she could trust to run things when she was out. Even though Skylie had been on staff for over a year, tonight was the first weekend Lucy had ever taken off, leaving things in Skylie’s care.
“It’s not every day you get invited to dinner by a rock star.” Lucy’s eyebrows waggled. “There’s a benefit to stressing about the grapes, you know. For four months of the year, the weather warms up and I can invite whomever I want to play at the amphitheater. Cole Turner’s one of my favorites. If you think I’m going to work the night of his concert, you’re nuts.”
“You’ll still be working,” Rachael argued, grabbing her coat. “You’ll be running around making sure everyone’s doing their job.”
“You know me so well.”
Honk!
Lucy squealed. “That’s him!”
“Nah, it’s someone from his crew. Cole’s been at the winery for hours.”
He’d left shortly after breakfast (without saying a word), and had sent the car back at two o’clock to pick up three bags and two guitar cases. Not that she’d been paying attention or anything. She’d had plenty to do through the afternoon to keep her busy. She’d cleaned the inn top to bottom, baseboards to ceiling. She’d tried to hold her breath when she cleaned Cole’s room and told herself it was from the bleach fumes in the bathroom.
“Didn’t you see him there earlier?” Rachael said, picking a glob of wax off the pad of her finger.
“Of course! I don’t mean it’s him, I mean it’s him. His people.” Running to the door, Lucy crossed her purse over her body and onto her shoulder. “Ready?”
Rachael got the feeling if she weren’t ready, Lucy would leave her behind.
“As I’ll ever be,” Rachael said and opened the door.
“Oh. My.” Lucy gasped. “Limo!”
The thing was black and stretched longer than the width of the inn. People walking the street stopped and ogled; wasn’t every day a limo cruised into Blue Lake. Cars denied the space to pass on the opposite side of the narrow road lined up behind them. The driver stepped onto the curb and opened the rear door.
“Ms. Stone and Ms. McCoy, I presume?” he said.
Lucy dove through the door, like Alice jumping through the limousine’s rabbit hole. “Get your behind in her, Rach! There’s champagne!”
They drove west, out of town and toward the winery. At the last second, before the exit for StoneMill, the driver veered left off the freeway.
There was nothing this way but old gold-mining sites.
The driver parked not far off the road, in the middle of an empty gravel lot. He killed the engine and strode around the back end of the car to open the door. Lucy got out first.
“Where is he?” she asked, spinning around.
Rachael stepped out, and gazed over the grape vineyards below. StoneMill was to the right, over the freeway, but the grassy rows of the amphitheater stood out in the distance.
“Down here,” Cole said.
The deep rumble in his voice sparked something in her belly. How could he elicit that kind of a response so easily?
They walked to the edge of the lot and gazed down the gentle slope of the mountain. On a raised wooden platform that had once been used for some kind of gold-mining contraption, a table and three chairs had been set up. White lights dangled down from the edges. Candlelight flickered over the table. Cole stood in the center of it all, lifting his arms from his sides.
“Welcome to our private dinner party.” He strode to the edge, and kicked his foot on the ladder. “Come on up. There’s a kick ass view from up here!”
Lucy took off first, nearly running down the path. Rachael followed, and climbed up the ladder after her friend. Cole helped her once she reached the top, extending his hand for her to grab ahold of.
But when Rachael reached the top, he said, “Do you got it?”
Of course she did. Would she have liked help? Wouldn’t have freaking hurt.
As she climbed onto the platform and straightened, she couldn’t believe the view. It was breathtaking, with vineyards and rolling mountains as far as the eye could see. Pinks, reds, and oranges streaked across the baby-blue sky as if someone had taken a heavenly paintbrush and smeared the colors together. The air smelled of roses and grapes, sweet and sour. And in the distance, Rachael picked up the soft humming of StoneMill’s speaker system.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” Cole said, pulling out Lucy’s chair.
She smiled in that coy, flirty way she’d mastered so well. “Absolutely my pleasure.”
Oh, boy.
Rachael pulled out her own chair and sat, draping the napkin over her lap. Dinner had already been served: penne pasta with chicken and broccoli. StoneMill Pinot Grigio and French bread. Out of instinct, Rachael checked the temperature of the plate with the side of her hand. Still warm.
Cole must’ve asked Rita to plan dinner so it’d be ready exactly when the limo pulled up. Where was Rita now? Hiding in the bushes around the base of the platform?
“Are you ready for tonight?” Lucy asked, folding her hands over her plate. “I bet you get nervous before a show.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m nervous.” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s more like that anxious, excited feeling you get before you have sex with someone for the first time.”
The air whooshed out of Rachael’s lungs. She knew exactly the feeling he spoke of…she’d felt it last night. Those tingly jolts of anticipation still buzzed through her legs.
“What about you?” he asked Lucy. “Are you nervous?”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“You’ve got a lot riding on this too, don’t you?”
“Rachael had her first kiss under the amphitheater stage,” Lucy blabbed, “though it wasn’t a stage back then. It was a massive Oak tree in the center of the vineyard.”
“Uh-na,” Rachael mumbled, cheeks full. “Dnotalkinboutthat.”
“Really?” Cole leaned over the table. “Now this is getting interesting.”
Swallow. Don’t choke. Chewchewchew. Swallow.
“She kissed the guy who plows the roads.” Lucy matched Cole’s distance across the table. “Though he was much hotter then than he is now.”
“Dom?” Cole’s voice pitched. “The guy from the bar?”
Chew. Swallow. Chew.
Why’d she take such a damn big bite of bread?
“You met Dom?” Lucy laughed. “Then you know how funny it is to picture them together! He’s not much of a looker now, but back in school, he was hot stuff. Rachael was too.”
“Still is, in my book.” Cole met her gaze for the first time of the night. His eyes were slightly narrowed, his chin angled down, the perfect come-hither-glare.
God, she wished he wouldn’t look at her that way. She got shaky all over, edgy and unsure. The food clumped down her throat, but it was too late. They’d already moved on to talking about something else.
“What do you say we dance?” Cole said, extending his hand to Lucy. “Seeing as how you and I aren’t eating.”
Rachael eyed their full and barely-touched plates. Sighing, she dropped her fork, wrinkled her napkin and pushed away from the table.
“Why’d you invite us to dinner if you aren’t going to eat?” Rachael asked.
“Because that’s what you do when you wine and dine a beautiful woman. You eat, and then you dance.” He stood. “What do you say, Ms. Stone.”
Smiling like she’d been pronounced Mrs. Turner, Lucy put her hand in his and let him swing her to the far end of the platform.
How would they dance without—
On cue, music flowed from the limo. It was slow and sultry. Etta James’s At Last. The limo driver had opened the doors and rolled down the windows. The radio must’ve been on full-blast.
Rachael tried not to stare as Cole held Lucy against him and spun her around, but she couldn’t help it. She tried to ignore the pinch in her side, and the distaste in her mouth, but the penne was cooked to perfection and her clothes were smooth on the inside. There was no logical reason for her to be experiencing either.
Hands in her lap, Rachael stared out over the vineyard toward the direction of the amphitheater. The wind picked up, bringing with it rumble of passing cars. People were already arriving at the winery to snag a seat.
“You’re up.” Lucy shook Rachael’s shoulder. “I’d love to hog him all night, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t give you a turn?”
Rachael caught Cole’s stoic expression over Lucy’s shoulder. His arms may’ve been relaxed at his sides, and his shoulders may’ve rounded forward slightly, but his jaw was clenched tight and a storm raged in his honey-brown eyes.
“It’s all right.” Rachael took a huge gulp of water and chomped on the ice. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“One dance,” he said, extending his hand.
How could she say no?
As Kiss Me from Ed Sheeran resounded from the limo’s speakers, Rachael sighed, and then took Cole’s hand. It was cold and rough, though his hands had been soft last night…
He spun her around and hugged her against him. Keeping her back rigid, Rachael stared over the grapes. When did they prune? How many varieties were there? How many people had already arrived to see Cole’s show?
God, it wasn’t working. She couldn’t pull herself out of this moment no matter how hard she tried. His arms felt too good wrapped around her waist, his hand strong as it held hers.
“Did you get everything straightened out with Joey?” he asked, his feet moving in a slow rhythm.
Nope. “Of course.”
“I’m glad.” His tone was flat. Void of emotion. “He’d be perfect for you.”
“I know.”
It may’ve been the smarter decision—Joey was a sweetheart, he really was—but he wasn’t the one she wanted to sleep with last night. When pressed with the decision to choose between them, she’d made her choice, although it wasn’t the best one for her.
Why couldn’t she have it both ways? Why couldn’t Cole be a firefighter from Blue Lake? Why couldn’t he find a way to fit in here?
Who was she kidding?
Like Joey had said, Cole Turner was from a completely different world.
Cole moved his hand up her back, until his fingers brushed her hair. She wanted to lay her head back in his hand and expose her neck so he’d kiss her there again. What she wouldn’t give to—
“Your friend is nice,” he said, cutting her thoughts short.
“Joey?”
“No, Lucy. She’s great.”
He leaned down so that his head rested beside hers. His chest ballooned slightly, as if he’d breathed in the smell of her hair. She must’ve been mistaken.
“She looks like she knows how to have a good time,” he went on.
Rachael barely resisted the urge to jerk out of his arms. “She sure does.”
As they spun, his attention shifted to Lucy, who was pouring a second glass of wine. He was totally checking her out. Of course. Why wouldn’t he? Lucy was bubbly and petite. Full of energy and one hell of a good time. She’d be exactly the type of girl who’d fit into Cole’s lifestyle: lots of fun, low pressure. She wasn’t looking for anything serious with anyone in particular, and Cole Turner was her dream guy.
“This may strike you as an odd question,” Cole whispered, his deep voice buzzing in her ear, “but do you know if she’s single?”
Line totally crossed.
“Know what? I have to go.” As something snapped in Rachael’s middle, she stepped out of his arms. “Is it all right if I have the limo take me back?”
“Yes, but—“
“Will you and Lucy have another way to get to the concert?”
Even now, when she wanted to be selfish, when she wanted to take the limo and leave them up here to figure out their own way back, she had to make sure they wouldn’t be put out.
“I can have Rita send another car,” he said, “but you don’t have to go.”
“Yes,” she said, tears stinging her throat. “I really do.” The anxiety in her stomach balled into one giant knot as Lucy’s gaze shot her way. “Sweetie,” she said to her friend, “I hope you have the best time of your life tonight. But I’m going to head home.”
“What’s the matter?” Lucy’s face puzzled in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Don’t look at him. Just don’t look at him. “I’m just not feeling up to tonight. I hope you have an amazing time at the concert, and I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
Frantic to get away from the two of them, Rachael bent over the top rung of the ladder and lowered herself down.
“Rachael, wait,” Cole said, striding to the edge. “I was hoping you’d stay for the concert.”
“Sorry.” She descended faster still, her hands and feet flying down the rungs. “Can’t stay. Have fun, you two!”
“Rachael, I think you’ve—“
In her mad dash, Rachael’s foot slipped off the step. She swung toward the ladder, her face swinging dangerously close to the wood. She screeched, and dropped her hand to the next rung, but missed that too. Her grip slipped, and she fell to the ground, landing on her knees before slamming onto her backside.
“Rachael!” Cole bent over the side. “Are you hurt?”
Pride, yes. Body, not so much.
“I’m fine.” She pulled herself off the ground and checked the damage. No holes in her jeans,
but her knees were scraped underneath, and her hands were raw and red. Skinned.
“Rachael!” Lucy gasped, joining Cole at the ladder. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I said I was fine!” She took off down the path to the parking lot, rubbing her hands on her jeans. “Don’t worry about me!”
She’d be more than fine. Sunday was only two days away and then Cole would be out of her life for good. She could handle anything for two days, and that included watching her best friend go out with the man she had a crazy-stupid crush on.
As soon as the door to the limo shut, Rachael curled up onto the cold leather seat and let her tears fall.
Chapter Eleven
Cole stood in his dressing room, geared up in his first outfit of the night: dark-washed jeans with a white handkerchief hanging out the back pocket, combat boots, long-sleeve black shirt and black vest with spikes on the collar. If he had his way he’d ditch the handkerchief and vest with the spikes. He’d wear head-to-toe black and channel the simple, bluesy notes of Johnny Cash. But Rita had made it perfectly clear: do things her way for a while, and then he could do things his way.
He tightened the guitar strap over his shoulder and played a few notes, his thoughts swarming around Rachael and the way she’d left.
She’d been angry. She’d thought he was asking if Lucy was single so that he could date her. She’d been dead wrong. He’d wanted to set her up with Ronnie, his drummer. Ronnie was a sucker for gingers.
But Rachael had no right whatsoever to be angry. No damned right.
If she didn’t want to be with him, what did she care if he dated every single woman in Blue Lake?
That woman tied him up in so many damn knots, he could burst.
Someone banged on the door to his dressing room.
Rachael.
“Come in,” he said, his throat drying up.
The door opened wide and Rita charged through in a leather coat that flowed around her ankles. “Do you hear them out there? They’re going wild!”
Screams and shouts blended into one ear-splitting roar. As the crowd chanted his name, their voices blended into a deep rumble that shook the walls of his dressing room.
Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set Page 111