“Law’s band. Didn’t he tell you? They’re comin’ over this mornin’ for a photo shoot. These awards shows always gotta do a few photos, ‘specially if you’re performin’.”
“Lawson’s performing at an awards show?”
“Uh huh.” Her gaze lifted. “Hey, baby, why didn’t you tell her you were performin’ here soon?”
I looked and there he was. Lawson. Looking rested and too effing handsome in a pair of jeans and a white Henley. He rubbed the back of his neck, flashed a lopsided smile. His hair was damp from a recent shower.
His mom was still talking. “She stays the night but doesn’t know the first thing ‘bout your schedule? Boy.” She tutted, poured the egg mixture into a buttered skillet. “You’d think you’d learn, but nooo.”
“Mama, really.” His eyes found mine. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah.” I could feel my cheeks getting redder and redder the longer he looked at me. “Really good, actually. Thanks.”
He jammed his fingers in his front pockets. “Cool.”
“You?”
“Yep. Good.”
“Great.”
“Any trouble finding anything?”
“Nope. All good, thanks.”
“Cool.”
Darlene exhaled. “For heaven’s sake, you two. You’re like a couple of third graders. Law, pull us out some plates, would you? Harper, honey, you know how to cook eggs?”
Her ease with me, the southern endearments. I didn’t know what I expected when I met Lawson’s mother, if I ever met her at all, but this was definitely not a part of the image. “Yes, I think so.”
“Good. You tend to these.” She handed me a spatula at the same time the doorbell rang. “Yep. That’d be company. Don’t over-salt ‘em, okay, honey? Maybe a little more than you’re used to. Law, baby, show her.” She took off her apron and left, humming.
“Wow,” I said as Lawson retrieved a shaker of seasoning from the spice rack. “She’s kind of great.”
“I know, right?” He moved beside me, nudged his arm against mine. “Morning,” he said, gazing down at me. “Have I told you yet how glad I am you’re here?”
“Once or twice.” And in between kisses, I thought, remembering his lips on mine, his hands on my face, in my hair, clutching my waist and thighs.
I didn’t know kissing could be like that. Not that I had anything close for comparison, except for late night movies and romance novels. Kissing before, with anyone from my past, had been awkward, either too dry or with too much tongue.
With Lawson, it was crazy, but I felt like I didn’t have a past. Like past didn’t exist. The me before I was me right then, with him, was only a series of snapshots. Photos of moments leading up to the beginning of a really good movie.
Now, the movie was flying, full on, a big screen extravaganza with unbelievable moment after unbelievable moment.
“Hey, you’re gonna wanna stir those eggs around a bit, Columbus.”
“Oh!” I blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t sweat it. Here, let me.” I handed him the spatula and he expertly began fluffing the eggs. “No real art to it, just consistency.” His gaze dropped down my body. “You look comfortable.”
I tugged at the hem of my hoodie, wishing I’d thought to shower and dress beforehand. I hadn’t even glanced in the mirror. “Sorry, I…” Sound completely lame and uneducated.
“No apologies.” He kissed my forehead. “I like you comfortable. In fact…” He turned off the burner, bent and kissed my cheeks, one followed by the other. “I prefer you dressed down.”
The tiny hairs at my nape stood on end. “Yeah?”
“Mmhm.” He nuzzled my neck. His hands slid beneath my hoodie, his fingers snaking beneath my tank top, seeking and finding skin. “What’s this? Goosebumps?”
I murmured a please and a don’t stop that sounded too breathless to make sense.
“Wow, Columbus, do I give you goosebumps?” His thumbs were drawing circles on my skin, his fingers kneading, pulling me closer.
“Don’t get cocky,” I said to his Cheshire grin.
“Wanna run that by me again?” Our bodies fit perfectly, and I could feel him, hard and pressed tight against where I ached for him. His head sank down to mine.
“I said…” Our lips brushed and mine parted for him as if they had no choice.
The response, if I had a response, died. Our tongues met and that was it. I was shuddering, wanting, needing him. Fisting his shirt, rising against him. God, I was wet, and the friction was delicious. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
I wanted everything.
“Okay, boys and girls.” A man’s deep, southern drawl poured a bucket of ice water down on top of us, and we sprung apart. “Some of us haven’t eaten yet.”
“Hey, hey, Ritchie, what’s up man?” Lawson was rounding the corner and shaking the man’s hand as if nothing happened. As if we hadn’t been caught climbing each other by not one, not two, but five grown men walking into the kitchen.
“’Sup, brother?’” The man, Ritchie, hugged Lawson, clapped him on the back. “You been writin’?”
“Little bit.”
“Well, that’s good. Figured you couldn’t stay down for long.” He kicked his head toward me. “Wanna introduce us?”
The other men drew closer, eyeing me curiously. They were young. Not as young as Lawson. Late twenties, early thirties, maybe.
“Ah, yep. Harper?” Lawson motioned for me to come closer, and I did, although I was trying hard not to fidget. “Harper, this is Ritchie, our bass player.”
We shook hands. “How do you do, Miss?” He sounded like Sam Elliott, if Sam Elliott were thirty years younger, had chin-length hair and looked like Ansel Elgort.
“Fine, thanks,” I said.
“And this is Eric, guitarist number one. Jarrod, guitarist number two. Sam, our mandolinist. And, last but definitely not least,” said Lawson, “our percussionist, Carl. Harper, everybody. Everybody, Harper Evans.”
They all greeted me with waves and smiles and nice-to-meet-you’s, while I stood in hyperawareness of Lawson’s hand at the small of my back. These were the guys I’d seen on tv, not just when Lawson performed on Fallon, but almost every video on YouTube. They’d been with him through the years, played a vital part in the rise of a country superstar. That they were still here, still with him, spoke a lot to Lawson’s character.
Darlene reappeared and ordered everybody to make their plates. “Hair and makeup’s here and said they’ll be ready for whoever wants to go first in fifteen.”
Hair and makeup? This was a serious photoshoot.
The boys started milling about, grabbing and filling plates, laughing and talking amongst themselves. They stole periodic glances at me, and I wondered of the last time they saw Lawson with a girl. Were they comparing us? Making mental notes to tell him later? Then again, my sleep attire could’ve warranted their attention.
“Hey.” I stood tiptoe to speak close to Lawson’s ear.
“Hmm?”
“I’m gonna run upstairs and get a shower, okay? Change my clothes.”
“No breakfast?” His brow furrowed. “Coffee?”
“I’ll grab a leftover biscuit or something after I’m finished. Coffee…well.” I glanced back at the pot that’d just finished dripping to full. “Got a to-go cup I can carry upstairs with me?”
His easy grin set fires beneath me skin. “We are a lot alike, Columbus, you know that? I can forgo breakfast—maybe, but coffee? Essential to my mental health.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, and I wished the room would vanish. “I’ll make you a tumbler. Cream and sugar?” he asked, rounding the counter.
“Just cream, thanks.”
I took my time showering and getting dressed. Shaved my legs, washed and dried my hair. Warred with myself over what to wear, which was ridiculous, because who cared? No one. And I certainly shouldn’t have, because I was leaving in a few months, and none of these peo
ple would ever remember me. Nonetheless, I chose my best pair of skinny jeans and a white peasant top. In the short time I’d been downstairs meeting Darlene and Lawson’s bandmates, Savana had texted. Twice. The first was a simple Hey, girl, what’s up? Wanna hang out today, since we’re off? The second was an all caps frantic, OMG YOU’RE AT LAW’S AREN’T YOU?!!1!
How she figured these things out was beyond me.
I called her.
She answered with, “I totally forgot he’s doing a shoot and an interview for the awards show today.”
“That’s what his mom said.”
“Oh, so you are there.”
Relentless, this woman. “Yes, Savana, I’m at Lawson’s.”
She squealed like a child. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. Okay, so, you met Darlene.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She’s nice.” Better than nice, she was genuine. Just like Lawson.
“Nice? No. Uh huh, honey, Law’s mom ain’t just nice. Did she ask you to help in the kitchen?”
My mouth opened and closed. “How did you know?”
“Because I know Darlene Hill. Did she?”
“She asked me to check on the biscuits and finish up the eggs.” I didn’t tell her Lawson wound up taking over the latter. Thank goodness for his intervention. Burnt eggs had always smelled like wet dog fur to me and I’d been teetering the line.
“Whoa.” There was a long pause and for a moment I thought I’d lost connection.
“Savana? Are you there?”
“That’s a really big deal, you realize that, don’t you?”
“Um…no?”
“Seriously. Big deal.”
“Why is it a big deal?” I slipped on my white Chucks. “It was just breakfast.”
“Hear me out, Evans. Darlene Hill loves her son, and I know what you’re gonna say—all mothers love their sons, and maybe that’s true. But Darlene has supported Lawson’s music dreams his whole life. She’s watched him rise and fall and rise back up again. And,” Savana said on a sigh, “she’s watched too many stupid girls break his heart.”
Girls. In his life. Spending time with him, like I was. And, according to Savana, who knew him way better than I did, breaking his heart again and again. Hence, his streak of not writing. The imbalance that stole his creativity.
I didn’t want to be one of those girls, the ones he was used to. Who fawned over him, gave him exactly what they thought he wanted. Though Lawson wasn’t technically a rock star, he was close enough. That kind of attention had to be exhausting. The people he met, girls in particular, most of them had probably never bothered to understand the person he really was, the man beneath the eyes, the smile and hot body.
“So, clearly, you’re not just another stupid chick to her. Or him.”
Gosh, there it was again. Fear. Fear of falling. Fear of moving too fast toward nothing, because there was nothing, not for Lawson and me. I may not’ve wanted to be another notch in his belt, just another stupid chick, but this didn’t end well. The final credits featured me leaving. College. Education. Career. A life a lower middle class, motherless girl from Ohio didn’t deserve, but that I’d worked my ass off far too hard to lose sight of.
Lawson was already in his rhythm. In his career. He was young, yes, but he was living his goals and dreams. People loved him. Peopled wanted to be him. To be near him, to bask in the glow of phenomenal talent.
I was still stuck in the weird limbo between high school and the rest of my existence.
“I gotta go.” I brushed sweaty palms down my thighs. Swallowed and told my heart to stop beating so fast. “Talk to you later?”
“Yep. See you on Monday, bright ‘n early.”
“See ya.”
Downstairs in Lawson’s music room, the photoshoot was underway. There were people everywhere, setting up lighting, screens, rearranging instruments. Lawson posed in front of a white screen, holding his blue guitar. I stepped back just outside the doorway. Watched as a woman with a towel thrown over her shoulder rushed forward and tinkered with his hair. Lawson murmured something to her. She giggled, then rushed back behind the cameraman, an unmistakable blush to her cheeks.
The cameraman started taking shots in rapid succession.
I committed the moment to memory. The flash of the camera, the music playing in the background, the band members laughing and chatting with each other. It was like watching some sort of documentary. A We Follow the Band on Tour! kind of thing. Exciting and wildly surreal.
“So, you’re goin’ to school in England in the fall.” Darlene Hill stood beside me, her gaze bouncing over the room as if taking inventory of every knickknack, every photo, every award. “Law school, is it?”
“Yes. Well…eventually.”
“Very ambitious.”
“Yeah, maybe. But I like law. Studying cases, exploring all the ways you can use legal avenues to help people with their problems.”
“Yeah?” She looked at me, then, her eyes twinkling.
“I believe we’re here to help each other. That each of us has a gift that’s supposed to be used to benefit other people.” I should’ve shut my mouth. Should’ve reeled myself in. I didn’t know her. She didn’t know me. Some people weren’t comfortable with what most considered woo-woo nonsense. And yet I kept going. “Sure, it’s up to us to discover what that gift is, but, once you find it, the opportunities are infinite.”
“Like getting a scholarship to Cambridge. Pretty impressive.”
“More like hard work,” I said reactively and popped a hand over my mouth. Shit. What the hell, Evans? “That is…well…”
“No, no, you’re right.” Like Lawson’s, her smile reached her eyes. “An accomplishment like Cambridge clearly wasn’t just given to you. Really, Harper, I’m impressed. And my son, he’s sure as heck impressed. Not too often he meets someone with ambitions that match his own. Last girl he dated, Jenna, she was ambitious enough, but there was no humbleness there, no grounding. You know?”
No, I didn’t know. But I wanted to. “Was this the one he dated for—”
“Three years?” She laughed airlessly. “Yeah. That’s her. Somethin’ else, I’ll tell ya. Somethin’ else. But then who could blame him for hanging on for so long?” She wasn’t looking at me anymore. She was looking at Lawson. We both were. A room full of people and it was hard not to home in on him. He commanded that level of attention. “He thought they shared common interests. We all did. She’s a musician, too, you see. Well,” she said, correcting herself, “a singer, I should say. She didn’t play an instrument. Still doesn’t, I don’t think.”
“What happened?” I asked. “What went wrong?”
“Would you believe me if I said he’s too nice?”
Darlene and I looked at one another, then returned our focus to Lawson. Surprising and yet not surprising at all that Savana had mentioned something similar. He was too nice. But then was he? Sure, he was kind and generous. Thoughtful. Sexy as hell, but that had nothing to do with being nice and everything to do with how I felt whenever I was around him. Too nice, though? Was there such a thing as being too nice?
“Nice guys finish last,” said Darlene. “Isn’t that what they say?”
“I imagine being nice as a good trait.”
“I suppose. But some women find nice boring.”
“Boring?” I said it a little too loud, and heads whipped around, eyes searched to find the culprit, including Lawson’s, which landed on me and sparkled with humor.
I ducked my head, cheeks flaming. Such an idiot.
Darlene was laughing. “Yes, boring. I know, right?”
I cleared my throat. “I can’t understand how anyone could find him boring.”
Another miniscule lift of her shoulders. “She did, though. Told him she wanted more, more excitement, more adventure, I don’t know. They went all over the place together. California, New York, Paris. Don’t know how much more adventure she wanted, but…in the end, I guess it
wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. Not for her.”
Tension stretched inside my chest. So, she…Jenna…had broken up with him because he wasn’t fun? Even the sound of it in my head rang ridiculous. I thought back to last night, when we’d vegged on the couch and watched movies. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed myself so much. When I’d felt that relaxed. And safe. Maybe never.
“He’s hopelessly romantic,” said Darlene. “Guess I’m to blame for that. Falls too fast, too hard, goes all in. There’s no in between with Lawson. It’s all or nothing.”
All.
Or nothing.
Someone yelled for a fifteen-minute break, and Lawson set down his guitar and jogged over to us. “You two look like you’re plotting.” He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me in to his side.
“Just girl plotting,” said Darlene. “Cooking, knitting, world domination. The usual.”
“Sounds about right.” Lawson pulled back and surveyed my face. “Look at these eyes, Mama, did you see her eyes?”
I couldn’t have hidden my blush if I’d tried. “Lawson.” I was hoping my expression conveyed the rest: that his mother was the right there and could he please not?
“I’m serious. Prettiest eyes on earth, these eyes. Like light from the sky reflected in the ocean.” He tilted his head. “Light shining through blue glass.”
“You do have pretty eyes, dear,” said Darlene, but she was checking her watch. “I’ve got a hair appointment at two. Y’all good here?”
“Yep, thanks,” said Lawson, “and for all your help this morning.”
“Aww, you know it ain’t nothin’, sweetheart.” They kissed each other on the cheek. “Y’all be good, now, ya hear?” She looked at both of us pointedly, but her tone was light. “Stay outta trouble. Not too many late nights.”
“Yes ma’am,” Lawson said at the same time I said, “Okay.”
She left and Lawson locked his hands around my waist, drew back just enough to gaze down at me, one eyebrow cocked. What was he up to? “So, I have a proposition for you.”
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