Burnt Sugar (ACE Series Book 2)

by Layne Harper

  “Got it.” I give her the thumbs up.

  “And for the love of everything holy, don’t drool over Vince.”

  Catching Bella’s reflection in the mirror, I see her eyes roll. “God, Shannon. You treat her like she’s a moron.” They’ve been at each other since Bella arrived about an hour ago.

  Shannon replies, “It’s my job to shepherd MK through this. And what’s your job?”

  “My job is to . . .”

  “Stop it,” I tell both of them. “I’m nervous enough without you two bickering and stressing me out.”

  There’s a knock on the trailer door. Bella yells for whomever it is to enter. As the door opens, she gasps. Vince strolls in looking like the fine male specimen he is. “They’re ready for us.”

  Margo douses my hair with half a bottle of hairspray, steps back, nods her approval, and warns, “Walk quickly. I’m not sure that hairspray will hold in this humidity.”

  Bella stands, tossing her curls over her shoulder and sticks out her hand. “Bella Conner. I’m MK’s best friend and assistant.”

  Vince shakes her hand and then turns, walking over to me. Behind his back, she mouths, God, that man is fine.

  Nodding, it seems that everyone can agree on Vince’s Hollywood good looks.

  He offers me his arm which I’m quite thankful for. These heels Margo put me in are ridiculously high. We head out of the trailer park, past the security guard, and walk the two blocks to my store. When we’re out of ear shot, he asks, “Have plans tonight? We could celebrate your first official day on set.”

  I have plans, but I’d be fine if bad weather kept Aaron’s plane from landing, I’ve told myself. Because there isn’t a cloud in the sky most likely, I’m going to see him tonight, and what I hate to admit to myself is that I can’t wait until eight o’clock. “You’re a brave man for asking. After that LA sandwich shop you took me and then forced me to eat a meatball sub, I’d be scared of where I might take you.” My eyebrow cocks. “You haven’t had to peel a couple of pounds of the spiciest crawfish known to mankind. They’re messy, good, and make grown men cry.”

  He pretends his knees are shaking, as his mouth hangs open in mock terror. “I ain’t afraid of those bugs.” He laughs at his joke and then asks, “Did the marinara come out of your white dress? Which was not a smart thing to wear when you knew I was going to seek revenge for the muffaletta.” Then he adds, “But it sure looked great on you.”

  “A soak in bleach and it was good to go.” We walk around a man who is sitting against a wall asleep. He looks like he might have had one too many drinks last night. “I can’t believe your solution to my stained dress was for me to wear that hideous Venice Beach tourist shirt over it.” We both laugh. “I’m sure people thought I was crazy.”

  He deadpans, “It’s LA. They probably thought you were on the cusp of a new fashion trend.” Pausing, then he asks, “So what about that dinner tonight? I could go for crawfish.”

  I like Vince. He’s easy on the eyes and a boatload of fun, but I think even if Aaron wasn’t in the picture that dating him would be a bad idea. His show films mostly in Los Angeles, and I really don’t want to do the long-distance thing. Aaron’s long distance and you’re seeing him tonight.

  Pushing all thoughts of Aaron from my head, I reply, “I’m sorry, but a friend beat you to the punch.”

  He takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “No worries. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  As he opens the front door to No Pink Caddy, Vince says, “Pause a second and take all this in. You’re walking on the set of your reality show and into the store of you’ve dreamed of owning. MK, own this moment.”

  Looking up at the sky, I do my best to keep the tears from streaming down my cheeks and ruining Margo’s hard work. But one slips down and lands on the concrete making a clean splash on the dirty sidewalk. Pulling out my phone, I take a picture of the front door of No Pink Caddy and attach it to my tweet.

  MK Landry @NoPinkCaddy

  When one door closes, another opens. Welcome to #NoPinkCaddy #BurntSugar

  Chapter Nineteen

  Aaron

  September

  Rock Star Groupies @RockStarGroupies

  @RealJohnnyKnite is in Seattle tonight. Keep an eye out for him. Post if you know his location. #SingleJohnnyKnite

  A thousand horses are racing in my chest.

  Seamus puts the car in park and opens the driver’s door. I’m assuming he’s getting out to open mine.

  “No. Give me a sec.” I stare at the tall iron fence that runs along the broken sidewalk. The sun has almost escaped this brutally warm day, casting the wrought-iron in an orange glow, making it look like it’s on fire. Behind the fence, everything still looks the same—same white clapboard siding and same black railing leading to her front door. But it’s not the same. She has the high fence installed because of me. She has the gate with a call box because I led the paparazzi and my fans to her front door. I put her in danger. It’s ironic that I used because I couldn’t protect her, yet I left her so vulnerable she felt the need for the fence. My vagabond, free spirit is now contained.

  I feel like such an asshole. It’s one thing to hear her tell me about the pain I’ve caused. It’s another to see the evidence in person.

  I’ve never in my life wanted so badly to rewind time. My muscles twitch with the need to race out of the car, scoop her in my arms, and carry her back to Austin—to the safety of my little house in the middle of my vineyard. Cameras don’t reach us there. The media can’t get close. It’s where Jude learned to ride a bike and played in her now abandoned treehouse. It’s where MK could restore the antiques she loves so much and cook in my Tuscan-styled kitchen until her heart is content.

  Taking a deep breath, I try to slow my shallow breathing. I want to play this cool. I don’t want MK to know just how much these next hours we’ll spend together mean to me. I’m not that well versed in relationships, but even I know that girls don’t like needy, pathetic guys.

  Before I open the car door, I tuck the necklace into my shirt, grab my straw fedora, and pick up my duffle. “Seamus, just keep your phone with you.”

  “Have a good evening,” my New Orleans employee wishes me.

  Yeah. Let’s hope it is.

  My hands drag along the rough denim of my jeans. I don’t want to greet MK with sweaty palms.

  Pushing the button by the gate, her sweet voice causes my stomach to do a flip. “Hi, Aaron. I’ll let you in.”

  “Uh . . . thanks,” I stammer sounding pathetic. Shit. Get it together.

  A buzzing noise lets me know that it’s okay to push the gate open. I walk into MK’s personal space with a tiny prayer that I’m walking to my destiny.

  Her front door opens, and when she steps out onto the small landing, I think I forget to breathe. Brown hair seems to swirl around her firm breasts. Erect nipples push against the R and A of her tank top that reads A girl needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle. I feel pretty confident that this top was chosen specifically to send me a message.

  “Are you going to walk and get out of this heat or are you just going to stand there staring?” she says with a strong Cajun accent. I love when it escapes.

  Shit. I forgot to walk.

  I couldn’t keep the smile from my face if I tried. “It’s hot out here? I haven’t noticed.” A bead of sweat trickles down my back.

  Her eyes roll as she turns around and walks back into her home. I follow like the love-sick fool that I am.

  Words swirl in my brain—things I want to say to her.

  You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

  You make me feel complete just by being in your presence.

  I don’t want to ever be without you.

  Let’s leave this all behind. You and me can be perfect together away from all the distractions.

  Marry me.

  Instead of telling her phrases that she won’t believe, I step into her living room and ask
, “Where in the hell is your furniture?”

  Her head whips around and her hair flies like crazy, sticking to her cheeks. “You.” She marches over to where I’m standing and pushes on my chest. “You got rid of my furniture. You tossed my things without asking my permission. You’re the reason that I work at my kitchen island sitting on an old, uncomfortable barstool.”

  Dropping my bag just inside the door, I grab her hand because frankly her pushing on my sternum hurts. “Yeah. I did all of that, but it’s been like ten months. Why haven’t you bought new stuff?”

  Her eyes narrow as her head turns to the side. “Do you think money grows on trees? I had to ask Grandmother to pay for the fence and gate out front.” She turns and walks away which makes my chest tight. “After you left me raw and exposed to the world, it took me some time before I could write or make videos again. Advertising dollars were pouring in, but I had to save that money. I didn’t know how long it would last or what my future looked like. I couldn’t spend money on furniture, not even thrift store finds.”

  She grows quiet as she opens the refrigerator and pours herself a glass of wine. I watch her throat move up and then down as she takes a large gulp.

  This is not how I had planned our reunion, and I hate myself for being such a careless asshole.

  “I’m . . .” I start before she cuts me off.

  “Don’t say it, Aaron. I don’t want your apologies. But this is another reason why we shouldn’t be together. We’re too different. You don’t have any concept of what it’s like to struggle. You can toss furniture just because it gets dirty. I live month to month. My savings account has twenty dollars in it. How did you think I could afford to replace the things you tossed?”

  Well, this is a role reversal. “Yeah, I have money now, but I didn’t. I worked my ass off for it. I mopped floors and sometimes didn’t eat so Jude could. I’ve known a kind of poor that you’ve only read about in books.”

  Her hands go to her hips. “Then you should have been more sensitive to my struggles when you had my furniture hauled off.”

  She’s infuriating. I had her couch, chair, and coffee table taken to the landfill because they were stained with her blood and vomit. I didn’t want her to have a reminder of that terrible night. I thought I was doing her a favor. It never occurred to me that she could still be this pissed. “Are you always going to punish me for my shit behavior? Because, if so, maybe you’re right, and we shouldn’t be together.” I can’t believe the words come out of my mouth. Immediately, I wish I could grab them before they reach her ears and shove them back inside.

  Tears fall down her cheeks as she takes another slug out of the glass. “Today was the best day of my life. Please don’t ruin it. I don’t want to fight with you. Can we not talk about the past and just try to enjoy the moment? Please don’t make me regret turning down a date with Vince.”

  At the mention of the other guy’s name, I feel as if a knife has been shoved into my side. I walk past the spot on her worn hardwoods where I made the biggest mistake of my life by letting her give up on me.

  Taking the wine from her hand, I rest it on the counter and pull her warm body into my arms as I kiss her forehead. It’s the first time I’ve had a chance to examine her scar up close. Doctor Hebert did a beautiful job. I’m sure it’s easily covered with makeup, but it’s still a physical reminder of one of the scariest nights of my life. I push the thoughts away and try to focus on the present and the fact that I’m competing with another guy for her heart. “I know you don’t want to hear my apologies, but please just let me say that I’m so fucking sorry for everything. I wouldn’t have gotten rid of your stuff if I had known how much it meant to you. I’m sorry I didn’t pay to replace it. I’m sorry I did coke, and I stormed out of your place and didn’t come back. I’m sorry I released the album without giving you any warning, and I’m especially sorry that my thoughtlessness and carelessness made your life difficult. I’m sorry I abandoned you and left you struggling. But what I’m most sorry about is that I turned my back on the one woman I’ve ever loved and left her raw and exposed to my world.”

  Her body quivers, and I hold her so tightly that I think I might squeeze her to death. The smell of her soap lingers on her olive skin and it reminds me of the ocean breeze. “You, MK, are right for me.” Then I say the words that I used to hate. “Teach me to be the man you deserve.”

  She pulls back, reaching up, and removing my fedora. She tosses it on the island before she runs her hands through my hair. Feeling her fingers against my scalp gives me chills. “I’m sorry I told you that. It was a crummy thing for me to say. I promise to not bring up our fight if you promise to never say those horrid words again.”

  Kissing the tip of her nose, I reply, “Deal.”

  “I’m going to have to find a way to live in the present and leave the hurt and pain in the past, or we’ll just keep torturing each other.”

  “We’ll work on it.” She picks up her glass and says with a little side smile, “Want to buy me dinner and in exchange, I’ll tell you all about my day?”

  Warmth spreads from my chest outward. “I guess I could be persuaded to buy you dinner, and if you must tell me about your day, I could possibly listen.”

  My sarcasm makes her laugh. It’s the finest piece of music I’ve ever heard. She balls up her fist and punches me in my right arm. A bolt of electricity travels to my hand, and it takes everything that I have to not double over from the pain and remain passive. My middle finger twitches and rolls inward against my palm.

  “Let me change tops, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  When her bedroom door shuts, I race to my bag and dig with my left hand until I find the Tylenol. I throw a handful in my mouth and use MK’s left over wine to wash them down. My whole hand aches but my finger hurts the worst. Using the thumb on my left hand, I manually straighten it and then press my palm against the cold marble of her kitchen island to keep it from curling back.

  I’m not sure if the Tylenol kicks in or if my muscles decide to relax, but fortunately, by the time she walks into the empty living space, I can act normal. I’m not letting whatever this is come between me and my future.

  ***

  I’ve never seen her so animated.

  “You should see my shop. It’s crazy. Like there are lights placed on ladder-looking things suspended from the ceiling. And there’s Murray, who’s a camera guy. He’s really funny and sweet. Eugene doesn’t like me because he says I don’t understand blocking. And well, I don’t. This is all new to me. And there’s Kat. She holds this xylophone looking thing around her neck. She mixes the sound while we’re filming. Is that not crazy?”

  The waiter places a bowl of pad Thai in front of her, but she barely seems to notice. “Then there’s this other camera guy. I don’t think he likes me very much, but I just said in my head, ‘Self, don’t let him rain on your parade.’”

  She picks up her chopsticks and uses them to grab a piece of chicken.

  We’re in the back corner of some Asian fusion restaurant that she said was good. We could be eating paper for all I care. I just love watching and listening to her share her day.

  Grabbing the spoon, I take a sip of the soup I ordered. “Is he an asshole?” One phone call and I could have him fired. Janet and Cindy work with the guy who I got hired as the network head of the cable company. So MK’s boss owes me some huge favors.

  She shakes her head. “No. He’s just grumpy.”

  “Have they started the renovation?”

  She’s beaming. “Yes. I helped Vince and his crew build the kitchen cabinets today.”

  There’s that name again, Vince. “So who’s this Vince guy?”

  MK rests her chopsticks on the side of the plate. “He’s Vince Asher.” She says this like I must be dense. “Famous contractor. Has his own show. Janet and Cindy produce his also. They thought it would be good promotion for my show if he was the contractor. So we’re kinda like filming both at once.”

&nb
sp; I make a mental note to get Zed to run a check on this Vince Asher. Then I ask the question that I don’t want the answer to. “Are you seeing him?” Now that I’m putting two and two together, I think he’s the one she ditched me for in LA.

  “Seeing? Like he’s my boyfriend?” She shakes her head as she picks up her chopsticks. “No. We’ve gone on a few dates.”

  “Like how many is a few?”

  Her head turns to the side causing her hair to form a curtain around the left side of her face. “More than one.” She stares at her plate like the food is really fucking interesting. “Enough about me. How’s the tour?”

  I don’t want to talk about me. Or my tour. Or anything else. I want to hear more about these few dates with the contractor. Reminding myself to not be an asshole, I reply, “Fine. It’s going well.”

  Her laugh is gorgeous. “Okay, man of few words, can you tell me a little more than fine?”

  Pushing my bowl of soup aside, I lean forward. “Do you really want to hear the boring shit? That’s what touring is. It’s boring. It’s two hours of the best experience ever and then three days of boring.”

  Her nose crinkles. “How can traveling to different cities, or even countries, be called boring?” MK’s voice changes to one that can only be described as patronizing. “Poor little rock star has to sing his songs on stage while thousands of people imagine themselves either being him or being made love to by him.”

  Then before I can stop myself, I reply, “You’re the only one who knows what it’s like to have the poor little rock star make love to them.”

  Our eyes lock across the table. There’s a moment. There’s something between us. She’s into me also. Her mouth forms a perfect little O. Her eyes slant and an audible gasp escapes her cherry-red lips. I’m so hopeful that I’m not making up this chemistry. She swallows hard and then stares down at her plate of noodles.