He shook his head again. No. He had a feeling talking to Quinn right now would only lead to mocking and then wedding talk. No thank you.
So that left his twin. Riley loved talking to Owen, he really did. But Owen wasn’t exactly a ladies’ man. Hell, there were times Riley had to wonder if his brother even dated. With a sigh, he scrolled to Owen’s number. “No time like the present to find out.”
“Two phone calls in two days,” Owen said as he answered the phone. “What’s wrong?”
Riley chuckled. “Why does something have to be wrong for me to call you? We talk all the time.”
“We normally talk two to three times a week with a minimum of two days between calls. It’s barely been twenty-four hours. So again, what’s wrong?”
If Riley wasn’t mistaken, his normally mild-mannered twin had a bit of attitude this morning. “Maybe I should be asking you the same question.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, little brother…”
“By two minutes! You are older by two minutes!”
Yeah, Owen was in a snit over something. “As I was saying, it seems to me you’re a little out of sorts this morning. Everything okay in the lab?”
Owen sighed loudly. “I don’t only work in a lab, Riley. I’m here at the university and I spend a lot of time in the observatory and—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…you’ve got options. I get it. But you sound tense and before you tell me you’re not, I’m calling bullshit. What’s going on?”
“Now you’re going to play the twin telepathy thing?”
“Owen, save us both a lot of time and just tell me what’s wrong,” Riley said lightly, knowing he normally had to prod his brother to get him to talk about anything personal.
“The administrators here are on me to be a little more…personable.”
“Personable? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means they think I’m like a…a…robot! Like I don’t interact with my students or other members of the faculty. They want me to work on my people skills!”
“Did you tell them it makes you break out in a rash?” And the thing was, Riley was being completely serious.
“I did,” Owen said dejectedly. “They suggested Benadryl.”
“Well, damn. So what are you gonna do?”
“There’s some faculty dinner next month I have to attend. I had already declined the invitation and was told that wasn’t acceptable. Now I have to show up. And after that, there are some activities on campus I have to go to.” He sighed again. “Why can’t I just teach? What does going to a bonfire have to do with astronomy?”
“I’m sorry, Owen. I really am. But…it could be a good thing.”
“I don’t see how.”
“You might enjoy yourself. You know, make some friends!” Riley was going for optimistic, but he knew his brother too well: being social wasn’t something Owen was interested in.
“Somehow, I doubt it.” He paused. “So what about you? What has you calling?”
Riley told him about Savannah and the interview. “It’s a game changer. Now I’m not sure what my motivation is for doing the damn thing.”
“Hmm. I know this may seem like an odd question, considering how well I know you, but can’t you just, you know, not be attracted to her during the time of the interview?”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way,” Riley said. “And this also just stands to enforce why you need to be around people a little more often.”
“I don’t see how—”
“Haven’t you ever felt an instant pull of attraction to a woman, Owen? I mean, I know you don’t date a lot, but you can’t tell me you haven’t been attracted to a woman before.”
Owen was silent for a solid minute before he answered. “It doesn’t matter. Most women don’t even see me. And can we not talk about this right now? Can we just focus on you?”
As much as Riley wanted to argue with him, he really needed the help. “Fine. But we’re going to come back to this at some point.”
“Fine. Consider me warned,” Owen said. “So you’re attracted to this woman and you think she’s going to be a distraction to the interview.”
“Exactly.”
“It seems to me you really don’t have a choice here. You know you have to do this interview. It’s not negotiable. And you know Savannah’s going to be the one doing it. I think you’re going to have to wait and take your cues from her. This may all be a moot point. She may not feel the same way about you.”
“I kind of think she does—”
“Of course you do. In your line of work, most of the women you meet want to sleep with you,” Owen said, sounding bored.
“Did you just use sarcasm on me?” Riley asked with a chuckle.
“Focus, Riley,” Owen snapped. “If you’re looking for permission to hit on her, it’s not my place to give it. If you’re looking for someone to smack your hand and tell you to back away? That’s not for me either. You’re going to have to wait and see for yourself how it goes. There is no way to plan this one out.”
And this was why he’d called Owen. He had a way of putting it out there bluntly. “I know you’re right.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
Walking over to the bank of windows, Riley noticed the rain had finally stopped and the sun was starting to come out. “I don’t know yet. I’m kind of nervous.”
“That’s good,” Owen said. “I think you—specifically—need that once in a while.”
It was pointless to ask what he meant because Riley already knew. “Yeah, fine. Whatever,” he grumbled but with a smile. “I’m going to call her now. Thanks, bro.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
“Sometimes just talking to you makes me feel better. So…thanks.”
“You do the same for me, Ry,” Owen said.
They hung up and Riley reached for his coffee, finishing it in one big gulp. With a fortifying breath, he looked at his phone and scrolled to Savannah’s number, his finger paused over the send button. His heart was racing and his throat suddenly went dry.
Can I really do this? he asked himself. There wasn’t a clear answer. He was going to have to wait and see and keep his fingers crossed that everything was going to be all right. Lifting his head, he looked outside and smiled.
A rainbow.
“Yeah. I got this,” he said and immediately hit Send.
Chapter 3
In the last year, Savannah had interviewed some of the biggest names in the music business along with some who were on their way up. She’d gone into each of those meetings filled with confidence and an attitude that basically said, “They’re no different than me.”
Yeah, that wasn’t the case today.
Riley had called her three hours ago and suggested they meet at his place for lunch. At first she was apprehensive, but then she remembered how things had gotten out of hand last night with the crowds and figured he was doing it more for the sake of privacy than anything else. Savannah could respect that—it wasn’t uncommon to meet one of her subjects at their home or the hotel they were staying at while on tour. It wasn’t the norm to meet someplace public.
And yet it was sort of what she had been hoping for with this first official meeting with Riley.
The thought of being alone with him was a bit…overwhelming. Considering that twenty-four hours ago she’d wanted nothing to do with the guy and now she was suddenly nervous and fluttering around like a schoolgirl, was it any wonder she would have preferred the safety of a public space?
Looking at her reflection one last time, she cursed. This was her fourth outfit, and no matter what she put on, none of it felt right.
And that just pissed her off.
While not a slave to fashion, Savannah did enjoy clothes and had the closet to prove it
. Why then couldn’t she seem to put together one simple outfit so she could leave and get to Riley’s on time?
Because you want to impress him.
“No, I don’t,” she said out loud to her reflection. “I don’t have to impress him. This is who I am and I have nothing to prove. He needs to impress me—not the other way around.”
Turning, she growled and peeled off her jeans. As she tossed them in the corner with a little more force than necessary, she went with the “they made my butt look big” excuse for not wearing them.
“Okay! That’s it!” she cried. Whipping her shirt off, she stood there in her underwear and stalked back into her closet. “Whatever goes on isn’t coming off. This is ridiculous!”
Three more outfits later, she climbed into her Jeep.
She drove the thirty miles to Riley’s place with a nervous stomach and a running dialogue in her head. Looking down at herself briefly, she still questioned her clothing choice—long black maxi skirt, white tank, black sandals, and tons of clunky, multicolored jewelry. It wasn’t anything original but at least she was comfortable and looked a tiny bit professional.
She yawned. There’d been very little sleeping the previous night. After spending time with Riley, Savannah had been inspired to start planning out the article. Online research had given her the basics she’d needed to get started, but she wasn’t so much interested in Riley’s past and how he got started. She wanted this piece to really flesh out who he was at this moment in time.
Why had he decided to go solo?
Why was he taking a hiatus from public life?
And why was this new album taking so long to finish?
And those questions were just the tip of the iceberg, she was sure. Her usual method was to have a loose outline of the things she wanted to know but then let her subject take the lead. Sometimes she ended up with fascinating information no one had ever written about before, and other times she ended up with a whole lot of nothing because the celebrities in question only wanted to brag about themselves.
That was the category she had pegged Riley for.
Why? Mainly because for so long he was just…everywhere. Every magazine, tabloid, late night talk show, radio station…there was no escaping Riley and his band. Primarily Riley. He knew how to schmooze and work the crowds, and it had always seemed to rub Savannah the wrong way because no one was that nice, that friendly, that damn personable! It had to be an act!
She was hoping she was wrong.
Pulling in to Riley’s neighborhood, she was met with security gates and a guard. Savannah gave her name, showed her ID, and waited to be let through. She was used to the routine, and two minutes later, she was stopping in front of his house. For a moment, Savannah could only stare—she’d almost driven right by. With the exception of a wide front walkway, the entire front of the house was covered with a wall of greenery. Looking around, she didn’t see any other cars parked on the street so she pulled forward until she found the driveway. When she climbed out and grabbed her bags, she found herself to be a little surprised.
This wasn’t a mansion. And it wasn’t some ultra-modern monstrosity. It was just a cool-looking bungalow high in the hills. She almost couldn’t wait to get inside and look out the back to see the view. With a shaky breath, she walked to the front door and before she could knock, Riley pulled it open.
His smile almost had her in a puddle at his feet.
“Hey,” he said softly, stepping aside for Savannah to enter.
As she did, her arm grazed his and she had to stifle a groan—painfully aware she might not survive the story.
* * *
He knew immediately she was nervous.
Riley wasn’t normally a people watcher or even a decent judge of character, but something about Savannah just resonated with him. It was as if he already knew her, which was weird since twenty-four hours ago, he didn’t.
While she looked around, he took advantage of her distraction to really look at her. She was taller than he thought. With a pair of heels on, she’d almost be his height. Her skirt swished around her ankles, and he caught a glimpse of red on her toes. But the snug-fitting white tank top almost had him swallowing his tongue. He hadn’t quite noticed her curvy figure last night. Between their crazy conversation at the restaurant and then in the Jeep, she’d been sitting most of the time. But now? Ho-ly…
He swallowed hard. She wasn’t slim—not by today’s standards. No, Savannah had the body of a 1950s pinup girl—all lush curves. Damn. Dressed as she was right now, she looked a lot softer than she had the previous night. If he could just get the clip out of her hair, he’d be one hell of a happy man.
But he needed to focus and get them back on track. “That’s a lot of bags you have with you,” he said, motioning to the multiple bags hanging over Savannah’s shoulder.
“Oh,” she said and chuckled. “One’s my purse, one holds my laptop, one has my notepads, pens, tape recorder, and whatnot, and the last one has snacks.”
He looked at her oddly. “I’m sorry, did you say…snacks?”
Blushing, Savannah nodded. “I’ve learned that not everyone thinks about these things, and I tend to nosh while I work.”
“Nosh?”
She nodded again.
Riley chuckled. “Okay, I’ve got to know… What kinds of things do you…um…nosh on?” He nodded toward the bag.
Rather than answer right away, Savannah walked farther into the house and put her things down on what she assumed was the dining room table. Taking her snack bag out of the pile, she looked at Riley and grinned. “Fine. But no judging.”
He held up his hands as if to say, “Who me?”
There was only a moment’s hesitation before she opened the bag and began pulling things out. “I have pretzels, crackers, Twizzlers, M&Ms, cookies.” She paused and dug around a little. “Um…Pop-Tarts, Funyuns.” She looked up and shrugged. “I tend to use those at the end so no one has to deal with onion breath.” Back into the bag. “Starburst, a couple bottles of water, and…microwave popcorn.”
Riley stepped closer, inspected the pile, and whistled. “Wow…that’s impressive.” He looked at her. “Do most of your subjects starve you?”
She laughed at his question. “Not intentionally, but I have gone on several interviews where the person I was talking with had their staff bring them full-on meals while I had to sit there and watch them eat. After the third time it happened, I started packing my own food.”
“This looks like a little bit of everything you’d find at a rest-stop gas station.”
“It pretty much is. Like I said, it just makes it easier for me to have it with me. This way I don’t interrupt the interview and I can snack when the mood strikes.”
“Do you share?” he asked, grinning.
“That depends,” she replied, unable to stop her own smile.
“On…?”
Savannah picked up the microwave popcorn package. “Will I be allowed to use your microwave should the urge strike?”
Right then and there he wanted to tell her that whatever he had was hers. Her face was glowing with humor, and for a minute all he could do was stare.
“Riley?”
“Oh, right…of course. And just for the record, I planned on feeding you.” He motioned toward the kitchen and then led the way. “I’m no gourmet, but I can put a meal together when I need to.”
“You really didn’t have to go to any trouble.”
“I invited you to lunch,” he said over his shoulder, still smiling. “Although after seeing your stash of junk food, I may suggest skipping lunch and just going for the snacks.”
Savannah laughed. “Tell you what,” she began. “You feed me lunch, and I promise if at any point during the interview you want a snack, I’ll share.”
“You’re on.” They walked through the kitchen, which was done
in dark wood and granite with stainless steel appliances, and out onto the deck. Savannah stopped in her tracks and gasped.
Riley didn’t pretend not to know what she was reacting to. “I know. The view is amazing, right?”
“I would never leave here,” she said softly, walking to the edge of the deck.
“On a clear day, you can see straight through to the Pacific Ocean. That’s what sold me on this house. I hadn’t planned on buying anything at the time. I was looking to rent. But my realtor took a chance and showed me this place. It was a clear day and I was sold.”
“I’ll bet,” she said in wonder. “You must spend a lot of time out here.”
“Believe it or not, the view is just as spectacular at night. The entire city is lit up and yet it’s peaceful up here.” He stood beside her and simply enjoyed looking at the city with her. A soft breeze blew and Riley knew if he didn’t get them seated, lunch would be ruined. “Come on and have a seat. I’ll grab the food.”
“Can I help with anything?” she asked.
“I’m good,” he assured her. “Sit down and enjoy the view and I’ll be out in a minute.”
Once he was back in the kitchen, Riley wondered if he’d gone a little overboard. Cooking really wasn’t his thing but he knew how to. And once he’d called Savannah and she’d agreed to come over, he had wanted to do something to prove he wasn’t lazy or pampered. He didn’t have a staff on hand, and he’d prepared their meal himself. “Too late to change that now,” he muttered, putting oven mitts on and reaching into the oven to pull out their covered plates. Walking out to the deck, he was once again taken in by Savannah’s beauty. Her hair was up in a clip—no doubt because she drove with the Jeep open—but her head was thrown back, her eyes closed as she sat, obviously enjoying the sunshine.
Clearing his throat, he walked over to her. “I really hope I made the right choice here. I knew you aren’t vegan or anything like that because of your burger last night. But this is one of my favorites.” Carefully placing their dishes on the table, he lifted the lid off hers first. “Beef shish kebobs, rice, pita wedges, and hummus.”
This Is Our Song Page 5