The high school choir sang from the stage as the crowd varied between watching the show and meandering toward other booths. Thank God, Zoe’s ex wasn’t the main event. Jesus, how long had it been since Hush Note had been anyone’s opening act? Seven years? Eight? We’d been selling out stadiums for the past few years—long enough for me to take what had been years of struggle for granted.
I glanced over at Zoe with her friends, marveling at her carefree smile, and the ache in my chest sharpened. For all the time I’d spent with her, I didn’t know her nearly as well as I should have.
I ripped my eyes away from Zoe, and then really took in the crowd. Couples swayed on the night-chilled grass as rambunctious toddlers ran happy circles around them. Guys in letterman jackets puffed out their chests for the girls they’d mucked up the courage to talk to. An older couple looked after their grandchildren. There were countless little moments happening in the park, and I tried to catalog them all, to file them away with the scent of apple cider and the taste of lemon cake and raspberry buttercream in my brain to be accessed when I was writing.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Zoe approach without her friends and started toward her, but her ex got there first. Whatever he’d said had her mouth hanging open, but she hadn’t tossed either of those cups of cider in his face, so he had that going for him.
It was probably my duty to warn the guy her temper was pretty vicious.
“You didn’t even make it to LA?” he scoffed, and my hackles rose.
Zoe winced. It was slight, but it was there.
I stilled. This fucker wasn’t allowed to make her flinch like that.
“Nope. The management firm I work for has a branch in Seattle, so I stayed there,” she said calmly, keeping her cool just like she always did.
“And how many bands do you manage, now? Let me guess—none.” He smirked, pointedly looking at her left hand. “And no husband either. So, no career, no family. No wonder you avoid the shop every time you’re home. I wouldn’t want to see me either. I told you you’d fail.”
I fucking lost it.
6
ZOE
Guess Peter hadn’t grown up after all. He looked exactly the same—dark hair, hazel eyes, slightly crooked nose. The same but tired, and about thirty pounds on the Dad-bod side. At one time, my world had revolved around this guy, and now I wasn’t even attracted to him.
I was, however, completely mortified by his on-point assessment of my life.
“The fact that I don’t eat ice cream when I’m in town has nothing to with you,” I assured him, my hands clenching the no-longer-steaming cups of apple cider. It felt like half the town was watching our little reunion.
“Hey, baby.”
Oh God, no.
I turned slightly toward Nixon’s voice and found him smiling down at me. Great, now he’d have more than enough ammunition for the next six months of his let’s-piss-Zoe-off game. Wait. Did he just call me baby?
Before I could form a phrase, his hand splayed possessively over my hip, and he tugged me against him, the fingers of his other hand tunneling through my hair. It was only sheer dumb luck that kept me from spilling the cider.
What the—
He kissed me.
Nixon Winters was kissing me with those impossibly soft lips. It was wrong—I knew that somewhere—but it felt so deliciously good I couldn’t bring myself to care.
He swiped his tongue across my lower lip, and I gasped.
He took complete control, sliding into my mouth like he already owned it, laying claim to every line and curve with nimble strokes and swirls of his tongue. Holy shit, he kissed like he played guitar—like nothing else mattered on the planet, and in that moment, nothing else did. He wiped away the rest of the world and altered the universe so it centered around us.
It blew every kiss I’d ever had out of the water, and I surrendered to it, kissing him back, chasing the taste of lemons and raspberry that clung to his lips. His grip tightened, pulling me closer, angling my head so he could take me deeper, then groaning softly when I flicked my tongue against the roof of his mouth. Then he sucked my tongue all the way in, and I melted.
I wanted to rake my hands through his hair, to tug on the