by Cari Quinn
Juliet laughed. “We have a few. I think we’re doing okay.”
“Yeah, but press never hurts. Speaking of, someone’s getting a lot of sex. Dude, I wouldn’t be answering my phone either if I had two chicks giving me all I need. Way to go, you.”
Juliet flushed from her hairline to her knees. Maybe all the way to her toes. “You heard about that too, huh?”
“Yep. As did Lila. I’d expect a phone call if you haven’t gotten one already.”
“Goody. That will make my evening complete.”
But she wasn’t going to let dealing with Lila rattle her. She’d earned her spot in Warning Sign, and they weren’t going to kick her out.
Finally, she fucking belonged somewhere. In the band and with her guys. Both of them. Assuming they could figure stuff out.
First, she needed to start with Sparks.
“I gotta go, but thanks for the update. And let me know if you hear anything more about the chick.”
“Oh, I will. I think they took her to prison or something. Shame too, because her tits were legit works of art.”
Juliet laughed. “You are a perv.”
“You know it. Don’t think Mal was enamored though. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost as soon as the word ‘groupie’ was mentioned.” West huffed out a breath. “Anyway, see you at rehearsal tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Life would go on, no matter what happened. “See you then.”
She clicked off and pocketed her phone, then walked down the short hallway to her closed bedroom door. On the other side, she heard nothing but silence.
Knocking on her own bedroom door felt weird. It felt even weirder for him not to answer. She knocked again, then cautiously opened the door.
She heard the water running in the attached bathroom and hesitated. Maybe she’d come back later.
She was still debating when the water was turned off. A moment later, Sparks padded out in just a towel, still dripping wet.
He nearly dropped his toothbrush when he saw her, and wasn’t that a kick in the ass?
Not just because he was surprised, but in that unguarded moment, she glimpsed everything in his expression she’d been afraid to hope could be hers.
His respect. His concern. Most of all, his love.
Instead of going with a speech—not that she had one anyway—she followed her instincts and went straight into his arms.
His came around her tightly, so tightly, and she pressed her face into his chest. “Don’t leave me.”
A week ago, she would’ve wanted to slap herself for showing so much vulnerability. Now she had no choice.
Those two men had stripped her bare in every way possible. Just completely unmanned her of all her defenses.
She wished she could hate them for it, but secrets got awfully fucking heavy after a while.
“Not fucking possible.” His voice sounded raw, as raw as the ache in her chest. “I had to wait a damn long time to get you. I’m not about to toss you back.”
His phrasing made her giggle through her pain. “Like a fish?”
“More like a prized Beluga whale.”
“Hmm. Is that a compliment? Because I’m not really sure.”
He stroked her hair. “Yes. I would never do anything but compliment you.”
She eased back to look at him, fighting not to hide her tear-smeared face. His softened the instant he noticed her tears, and he reached for her cheek, touching her so carefully. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what? You didn’t do anything. This was all my fault.”
“I should’ve forced him to listen to us. To really hear what we were saying. Fuck it, I should’ve given him a black eye for not understanding.”
“What were we saying, exactly?”
Sparks rubbed her lower lip. “That we love each other. That we love him too.”
She nodded, helpless to fight the tears that sprung to her eyes.
This time, it felt like her chest was cracking open, and a lifetime of emotions came rushing out. Everything she’d held back and pushed down and slapped a veneer of fake self-assuredness on to make it seem like she was okay.
Nothing had ever hurt her. Nothing ever would. She was too strong, too brave.
And underneath all of it, she was the most cowardly person who had ever lived.
Sparks didn’t question her, just picked her up and carried her to her bed. They curled up together while rare Southern California rain pelted the windows and darkness closed them in.
His heartbeat was her North star and her tears were like an ocean, washing so much pain away. So much fear.
In a halting voice, she told him about her father and his affairs. She couldn’t get out much, and besides, she felt like if she was going to bare all, Tristan needed to be there too.
Even if Tristan closed them out, they would wait for him to change his mind. To figure out what they already had. They loved him enough to give him the space.
“That’s not all you’ve been holding back.” Sparks threaded his fingers through her hair. “You keep blaming yourself for what happened today.”
Swallowing hard, she leaned up to search for his eyes in the dark. “I gave that story about the three of us to the tabloids.”
He didn’t respond right away. After a moment, he linked his fingers with hers. Making sure she understood she wasn’t alone.
That he didn’t hate her.
“Okay. Tell me why.”
She tried to explain about the lies her father had perpetuated, how her mother had fed them so readily to her daughters. But in the end, she didn’t have to, not completely.
Because just like from the beginning, Sparks just got her. He understood how her crazy mind worked.
“You wanted everyone to know he was ours too,” Sparks murmured.
“Yes.” She swallowed deeply and tipped her forehead to his. “That’s all I wanted, but God, he didn’t want that. His reputation will suffer. He’ll think I never cared about him at all. That I was just being heartless.”
“At first, maybe. But we’ll win him over. First, though, we’ll wait him out.”
“Yeah, I figured we’d give him tonight, then—”
“Tonight, and tomorrow night, and as many other nights as it takes for him to get his head on straight.
“What?” Her head popped up again. “How long?”
“As long as it takes.”
“What if he never does? He’s very stubborn. Male, you know.”
“Yeah, I have some experience with that condition,” Sparks said drily, making her giggle. “Okay, we’ll give him to Christmas. If he doesn’t pull his head out of his ass by then, we attack.”
“Attack sounds so romantic.”
For the first time in her life, that word didn’t make her want to hurl. She figured that had to be progress.
“Oh, it will be. We just need to come up with a plan.”
“I like plans.” She snuggled against his chest, realizing for the first time she’d barely been aware of the fact he was naked and, um, quite well-endowed under his towel. She lifted her head again. “It’s not just about sex!”
“No, honey,” he said patiently, as if she’d fallen and hit her head on a pointy object.
She laughed. “I mean, we were lying here and I was so upset and so focused on Tristan and us and just what it means to, you know, go all in that I didn’t even think about your cock.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good, I guess?”
She laughed again. “Yes, it’s good. So very good.” She buried her face in that comforting crook between his neck and his shoulder. He smelled like her soap. Delicious. “It feels good to love you, Sparks.”
“Again.” He fisted a hand in her hair and drew up her head. “Say it again. Slowly.”
Her lips curved. “I love you, Randy Pruitt.”
His hands came up to frame her face. “I love you, Juliet Reece. Pretty sure I have since January of this year.”
She grinned. “When I ripped y
ou a new one over the fire?”
His expression darkened, and that familiar fear crowded out the joy in her heart. But just for a moment.
“There’s something there,” he said softly, and she nodded.
“I promise, I’ll tell you everything. But with him, okay? Tristan should be there too.”
Sparks nodded and cupping her head, tucked her back against his chest. “With him,” he echoed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“What the fuck, Leigh? I’ve already got twenty-three tables. You think I can pull a fucking twelve course meal out of my ass for an engagement party?”
“Yep.” Leigh, his expeditor, flipped through his iPad. “I’ve got eight people coming in and taking over the back wall. A-lister with a surprise party. Kate’s call.”
“Fuck.” Kate was the manager for The Hollow. She normally didn’t get involved in Tristan’s kitchen, but the holidays in Los Angeles were insane. She would choose a photo-op and social media push over him in a heartbeat.
He shuffled dishes in his head and pulled out his cell. He growled inwardly at the lock screen on his phone. He kept forgetting to change out the picture of him, Rand, and Jules during one of their movie marathons.
Jules had made a fort with every cushion, blanket and pillow in his damn loft for a Scream watch party. They’d ended up restarting the third movie four times. It wasn’t exactly the best of the bunch anyway. Her screams were a helluva lot more entertaining than Gale and Sidney’s in the movie.
He swallowed the quick burn of anger and took three seconds to change the picture to one of the solo sunrises he’d taken last week. Sleeping wasn’t an option for him lately, so he’d been getting his runs in at dawn for the last three weeks.
Today was turning into one of the longest days in history. He opened his notes app and scanned for one of the specialty plans he’d created. Again, no sleep—he’d been creating menus and recipes at three in the morning after working twelve-hour shifts.
He swiped a hand over his beardy face. Maybe tonight he’d actually sleep out of pure exhaustion.
“All right, pull my emergency card over at Billy’s for this list.” Tristan shot a text to one of his minions. He nodded to his sauté and line chef, Rome. “Start on those recipes.”
Rome nodded. “Got it, Chef.”
“Kendra!”
“Yo,” she hollered from the front of the kitchen.
Tristan shifted his brain into go-time. He might bitch, but this was exactly why he’d been hired as head chef at The Hollow. He could pull together a five-star meal in an hour if need be. “I need you on the front line. Call in Cory and Brendan. They officially have lost their night off status. I’m going to have to figure out some additional special plates.”
“Got it.”
His kitchen ran like clockwork. Everyone’s A-game was on point and he didn’t need to worry about the day to day. Kendra would pick up the slack. She always did.
The evening blended into night. He even designed a special dessert for the happy couple and wished them well personally. He tried to put it out of his mind that the actress having her perfect night looked way too much like Juliet. And look at that, her guy bore a slight resemblance to Sparky.
Fucking phenomenal.
He wondered if Jules and Sparks were together right now.
He still had Juliet’s schedule in his phone, so he knew she was off for the evening. The band was getting ready for their huge show tomorrow at the Greek Theatre. He didn’t get to go to many shows of course, but he’d been looking forward to that one.
He might’ve had to stick behind the scenes, but being Randy’s best friend—former best friend—afforded him some benefits.
Now…well, now he’d just have to watch from the tabloids like the rest of the world. The threesome gossip had started to die down once Randy and Jules had been spotted together a few times alone. Juliet was damn photogenic, so the sites loved to keep her in their crosshairs.
Randy, always the protective one, was forever in the background hovering around her. And here he was with the scent of rosemary clinging to his fingers and chef jacket while they lived the glamorous life of rockstars.
As midnight came and went, Tristan pushed thoughts of them to the back of his mind where they lived while he was in work mode. They haunted him well enough the minute he got into the loft. He’d been working later and later to avoid the stillness of his place.
For fuck’s sake, he’d even considered getting a cat just to break the monotony.
He was so fucked.
When would he start to move on?
“Chef?”
Tristan looked up from the pile of scraps on his cutting board. He’d shooed the rest of his crew out the door over an hour ago. The rest of the kitchen was gleaming and the scent of bleach was pervasive enough to sear his eyeballs.
Just as he liked it.
Kendra stood there in her paisley pants and hot pink jacket. “You didn’t go home yet?”
“I tried to field this one, but this customer refuses to leave without talking to you personally.”
He glanced down at his watch. “The engagement party left already. I said goodnight to them myself.”
“Nah. This one came in complaining about something a few weeks ago.”
Tristan fisted his hands as he tipped his head back. “Jesus, like I need this tonight.”
“I tried to handle it, but Kate’s gone and this customer is really, really intent on talking to you tonight. Like jonesing.”
“She?”
“A guy and girl. Young. Entitled. The usual douchebags. I tried to hand it off, but there was no swaying them.”
“Awesome.” Tristan sighed. “Thanks, I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you head out? Or should I worry they have a knife or gun? How much did we screw up?” He grinned. “At least in her mind, because I never screw up.”
“Of course not, Chef.”
“You say it like you agree and yet, I can actually taste your sarcasm.”
“Is it savory?”
“No. Definitely tart.”
Kendra grinned. “I like tart.”
“You would.” He held out an arm. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
Tristan pushed through the double doors to the mini-kitchen that showed out into the restaurant. Kate liked the appearance of the rustic kitchen that could be seen by anyone in The Hollow. Tristan would actually stab someone in the forehead with a chef’s knife if he had to perform every night.
So there was mostly just pizza and breads made in that kitchen. Occasionally, he would come out and make himself seen, but it was a damn rare night. He breezed through to the bar area and contemplated a shot of vodka to face the firing squad that would be waiting for him.
The house lights were dimmed save for the dais where the piano was. He turned around to ask Kendra where the customers were when the entire room went black. The familiar notes of a song that was probably—actually, no definitely—older than him filled the space.
Instead of Steve Perry, a husky female voice came out of the dark. His entire body tightened and his chest ached. She may not be the small town girl, but he was definitely a city boy who had allowed her into his world for a moment in time.
Her fingers danced up and down the keys as the song built and lights circled around her like a halo. Randy stood behind her, iPad in hand, fingers moving just as quickly. Ever the lighting guy, he maximized the setup The Hollow used for mood.
She didn’t look up, her dark curtain of hair fell forward as she played her heart out with Randy right there for moral support. Love shone in his best friend’s eyes. This woman had blown into their lives and disrupted everything.
So much of their relationship as a trio had been stopgaps between Juliet’s rising career, Tristan’s own insane life, and the ever steady Randy as their center axis. Was it any wonder that he’d been so lost without them both?
She finally looked up at Tristan as the song built to the end. Her hu
ge dark eyes pleading for him to never stop believing.
There was no way he was going to be able to withstand her in this space. He was already moving toward the piano as if she was his very own magnet. The problem was, there was another polarity right behind her.
One that he’d never truly be able to compete with.
He’d always been the odd man out.
One of these things is not like the other. The chef who would always be trapped on the sidelines while the two musical stars shot off to places beyond his reach. The song ended and she reached back for Randy’s hand to meet him on the edge of the stage.
“We don’t work without you, Tris. I swear we’ll figure out some way to make this work, to make us work. I don’t want to hide anymore. Sparks doesn’t want to either.” She glanced over her shoulder at Randy with a soft smile. Then she reached out for Tristan. “Please don’t push us away anymore. We can’t take it.”
How could he expect them to understand that this fairy tale was never going to work? As worldly as Juliet thought she was, there was no hope for them. Judgement would follow them for the rest of their lives. She didn’t deserve that, he didn’t either.
Tristan’s gaze locked with Rand’s. There was nothing there but clear eyes and strong shoulders. He didn’t stay behind her this time. Instead Rand came out beside her and linked his fingers with hers. “It might be easier to break us up, but in this instance easier isn’t better. I miss you, man. We miss you.”
Tristan jammed his hands into his pockets. Partly because he was afraid he’d come out swinging, and the other half of him was terrified he’d grab them both. He was getting tired of being the dirty little secret. “Oh, I bet you miss me. Now you have her all to yourself, just like you always wanted.”
Randy jumped off the miniature stage. “You’re the one who has that hang up, not us. I may have started out with some infatuation for a beautiful woman I worked with, but the moment we started this up at Owen and Callie’s wedding it became more.” He crowded into Tristan’s space. “You might want it to be just another hookup, but you can’t deny we’re more.” Randy sliced his hand through the air. “We’ve always been more since the three of us got into the same space.”