Fix It Up - Mary Calmes Page 0,81
up and set my world to rights. And now you’re going to go to Kentucky with me and stay on my aunt’s farm,” he said, grinning crazily, “with the guys.”
“No,” I assured him. “I’ll go back to Chicago, and if you want to call me when you get back to Santa Barbara, maybe we can––”
“No,” he told me. “You can either call your boss and quit Torus now, or tell him that I want you with me in Kentucky and he can bill me, but I think that seems a little like I’m paying him for your time while you sleep in my bed, and that seems a little hinky.”
“I’m sorry, what’d you just say?”
“I think it’s better to tell him you need to go on vacation until you figure out what you want to do.”
“I’m a fixer, for crissakes!” I told him. “I go where––”
“You’re only going where I am, and I don’t see what kind of fixer you can be when I’ll be tagging along, and I thought you wanted me to record my album. How am I supposed to do that if I’m gallivanting all over with you?”
“Gallivanting?”
He turned to look at my mother. “Am I not using that word right?”
“Oh no, darling, you’re using it correctly.”
He turned back to me. “Yeah, gallivanting,” he reiterated.
I threw up my hands.
“Your son is a bit of a pain in the ass,” he told her.
She snorted. “Oh, darling, I know.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side!” I accused her.
“Sweet boy, I’m always on your side.”
“You’re going to like the guys,” he told me, grinning. “And they’re going to be crazy about you.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because I’ve scared them and let them down and put them through hell more times than I can count. They won’t believe it when they get a look at you.”
“What are you––”
“The fact that they agreed to do this with me, make the pilgrimage, keep backing me up instead of looking for new gigs, and basically trusting me to do right by them and not fuck up—again—is insane. They shouldn’t, you know? The bridge should be burned, but they still believe, and I’m very blessed.”
“Listen, honey, I––”
“Also,” he said, grinning at me. “For the record, if you really want me to take you seriously, even for a second, that you don’t want to be with me, then maybe you should try and purge the word honey from the list of endearments you use when you’re talking to me.”
Fuck.
Putting down my fork, I leaned forward and put my head in my hands.
My mother chuckling did nothing for my mood.
I called Jared after dinner and told him what was happening with Nick. For his part, he was pleased to hear about the trip to Kentucky.
“It sounds like it should be very healing for him.”
“I hope so,” I said solemnly.
“Well, just keep me in the loop and let me know when you’ll be back.”
“I’ll be back,” I assured him irritably.
“Okay,” he told me and left it alone.
Walking into my bedroom, I found Nick passed out on the side of the bed closest to the bathroom, farthest from the door, which was where I would have wanted him if I were going to let him stay. As it was, he needed to get up and go back to his room.
Climbing on the bed, I went to shake him, to get him moving, but I couldn’t help myself. The man looked really good lying there with all his gorgeous tan skin and relaxed muscles. His hair was short on the sides and in back, the top longer and sweeping across his forehead. I brushed his hair back and then traced a thumb over his beautiful, thick eyebrows.
“You’re touching me,” he mumbled, not opening his eyes.
I felt like I’d been caught shoplifting or something, and quickly moved my hand away.
He rumbled his displeasure. “You think if you don’t touch me, don’t initiate anything, don’t let your guard down that this will go away.”
“I do,” I assured him.
“And now you’re going to do what, go sleep in my old bed?”
“I’m thinking about it,” I admitted.
“I have a counterproposal.”
“Hit me,” I said, leaning close, sliding my hand down his back, savoring the definition and the satin feel of his skin.
“Admiring your handiwork?”
“What?” I asked, distracted as he eased closer to me.
“You made me strong, nobody else.”
“Marisol and Felix made you––”
“I only listened to them because it was what you wanted.”
“You’re giving me way too much credit for all your time and effort,” I