Love Struck (Miss Match #2) (20 page)

“Yeah, I was thinking something a bit more avant-garde. I hear in Japan the new thing is McDonald’s weddings. My fiancé does tons of business in Japan, so it would look good for us to incorporate some of that stuff into our special day.” The fact that Andy was saying this with a straight face deeply impressed Lacy, who was all but hyperventilating at this point.

Tim, to his credit, didn’t crack. “Where are you girls?”

“A hotel outside of Baltimore. What do you think about the burger buffet?”

“Which hotel, Andrea Dawson? I refuse to discuss this any further with you sober.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Tim. A Marriott or a Wyndham maybe. I wasn’t paying much attention. You know, I think it’s a good thing for me to have more input into this wedding.”

“Is it the Marriott Express near the convention center?” On the screen, Tim was typing away on his phone.

“Perhaps. What are you doing, Tim?” He looked up, eyes blazing.

“What am I doing? I am attempting to find you and order room service for you. Somewhere in Baltimore there is a bottle of rum with the Dawson sisters’ name on it, and I will not rest until it is drained! The only thing worse than working with opinionated brides is working with sober brides. Brides with opinions! You are going to
ruin
this wedding, and I will not stand idly by!” His voice was nearing an actual shriek, the pitch almost matching the laughter neither girl could hold in any more.

They finished the meeting and a second bottle of wine in fear of Tim’s retaliation. They had been sternly informed that no further input from Andy was needed on her own wedding. Lacy’s head was spinning from both the booze and the rapid-fire decisions that had been made.

When they’d finally hung up, Andy tossed her iPad to the floor and lay back into the comforter. “God, that was fun.” She turned to her side and propped her head up with her hand. “See? I wouldn’t have handled that alone.”

Lacy tsked. “You would have. Well, maybe that wasn’t true. And you definitely wouldn’t have punk’d him on your own. But I’m happy to have helped. You know, though, if you really felt like you needed someone to meet with you, you could have asked Blake.”

“That would never have worked out. Tim would have fired Blake on day one.”

Lacy laughed. “That’s probably true.” Blake had a fairly domineering personality at first meeting. He’d loosened up since he’d gotten with Andy, but he still could be awfully abrasive.

“God, I love him though.” Andy’s grin was the kind that took over her whole face, sparking her eyes and flushing her skin.

Lacy smiled too, letting herself remember for half a moment what that was like—loving someone like
that
. With her heart and soul and body. Not meaning to, her eye flickered to Lance’s pillow. Even though she wasn’t even on the bed, she could feel its presence. It had its own warmth and character, a fragment of the person it once belonged to.

God, Lacy had loved him. She still did, only it didn’t come with the sharp pain anymore. Watching her sister plan this wedding to the love of her life should have been debilitating. Yet, she wasn’t feeling the anticipated jealousy. Maybe she had started to heal. Or maybe she’d just stopped paying attention to the wound.

“Hey.” Andy knocked her knee against Lacy’s, pulling her from her daze. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Lacy sounded snippier than she’d meant to. She softened her tone. “I’m fine. Really. Do I seem … not … fine?”

“No. You seem fine.” Andy cocked her head, studying her. “You also seem a bit … I don’t know … quiet.”

Next to Andy, everyone seemed quiet. Lacy decided to go with honesty. Semi-honesty. “I’m working through some things, I suppose. Touring is new. I’m still adjusting.”

Andy waggled her eyebrows, something she really didn’t do very well. Particularly when inebriated. “You should adjust with that Eli. I can’t say what it is, but he’s got something.”

“That something is he’s hot.” Lacy wondered if she should say more and decided she probably should. Andy was her sister, her best friend. They used to share everything. Well, Andy still did, it was only Lacy who’d pulled back. “And I have adjusted with him.”

“Yes. He’s hot. That’s what…” Andy trailed off. “Wait. What did you say? You’ve adjusted with him? Does that mean you’ve”—she lowered her voice even though they were the only two people in the room—“slept with him?”

Andy had this adorable inability to say words that related to sex without getting totally embarrassed. Which, of course, Lacy took advantage of as often as possible. “No, I have not slept with him. But I did bang him. Twice.”

Andy’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God! You
didn’t sleep
with him!”

Yes, that was fun.

But now that the admission was out and the shock expressed from Andy, Lacy had to admit the rest. “It’s not anything though. We’re not anything. It’s done.”

Andy pursed her lips as if trying to bite back whatever it was that she really wanted to say. Finally she settled with, “Is that what
you
want? Or what he wants?”

“It’s what I wanted.” Lacy frowned at her past tense choice of verb. “I mean, it’s what I
want
.” Wasn’t it?

“Do you want to talk about this?”

“Not really. Will you let me get away with that?”

Andy considered for a few heavy seconds. “Yeah. If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to.” She patted Lacy’s thigh. “Put it in a song, and I’ll hear about it all later.”

Yeah.
Put it in a song
. If only it were that easy.

Except there was a niggle somewhere in her chest. An itching that radiated outward through her limbs. As if something were brewing. Maybe she did have a song rumbling around inside. She needed some time by herself with her thoughts to find out. Which was going to be hard to find with company and conversation.

Perhaps, after Andy fell asleep …

The hotel did have a secluded lounge. She could sneak down there for a couple of hours with her guitar and staff pad. See what transpired.

With that plan in mind, Lacy curled up next to Andy to watch some late, late talk show, and waited for the sound of her sister’s snores.

Chapter Sixteen

It was less than thirty minutes later that Lacy found herself in the hotel lobby, her guitar case over her shoulder, staff pad tucked under her arm. She even brought her laptop to record what she worked on. Except for the night clerk, the place was empty. She found a nook out of sight of both the front doors and the front desk and settled in.

Before even attempting any new words, Lacy played through the refrain she’d composed that morning, changing a few of the chords and tightening the melody. She opened her laptop and laid a rough track so she wouldn’t forget it, then turned to her staff pad. Once upon a time, a blank sheet looked like a red cape to her bullheaded approach to life. It taunted her, teased her, begged her to make something of it.

Tonight the empty page stared at her like a dead end street.

Somehow, she had to recapture the emotions she’d had that afternoon with Eli.

She leaned back into the leather upholstery of the wingback chair and closed her eyes. It had been ages since she’d actually gone to a yoga class, but she used to love the meditative nature of the art. Maybe it would help now. Taking a deep breath in and then out, she concentrated on the feeling of her orgasm. The tightness of it followed by the much-needed release.

She’d barely conjured up the memory when a ping from her computer interrupted her thoughts. Glancing down at the screen, she found a message from Folx.

I know you’re not around tonight, but I just wanted to say good night one more time. Thinking of you.

Lacy sat up, retrieving her laptop form the side table.
I’m here! Family emergency over. I thought you’d be asleep by now.
Sure she was supposed to be writing, but chatting with Folx was always preferred.

I couldn’t sleep. I’ve missed you.

Same here.
And, man, had she. Even just one day without talking to him and her world had turned topsy-turvy.
I’m really glad you couldn’t sleep.

Me too. How about you? How are you doing? Why aren’t you sleeping?

Lacy hit her head against the chair several times before responding. The answers to his question were wrapped up in Eli. It took a moment to pick apart the sections of the last two days that didn’t include him. Finally, she typed,
I was attempting to get some words down. I actually wrote a refrain today!

Yes!! I’m grinning like a mad man. What caused the breakthrough?

I’m not sure, exactly.
She paused, wondering how much she could say without explaining her tryst with Eli. Of course, she could leave it vague, but she hated that. She didn’t like walls between her and Folx. More, she wanted to share her theory with him. He’d been her primary confidant in her blockage crisis and she couldn’t imagine shutting him out now.
But I think I have an idea what might help the rest of the block.

What’s that?

The last time I wrote anything
—never mind that it was just that morning—
I’d been inspired by sex. So I’m thinking … what if orgasms inspire me?

Man, did that sound lame. Thank God for the anonymity of her username. Otherwise she was sure she’d be dying of humiliation at the moment.

Wait a minute, wait a minute
 
…
Folx said nothing more for several seconds and she was afraid maybe he’d put two and two together—if she’d written that day and this was her theory, then shouldn’t it follow that she’d had sex with someone?

But Folx’s next words went another direction entirely.
If you think that sex might be the missing ingredient to your songwriting, and you haven’t been able to write in almost a year, does that mean that it’s … been that long?

Well, wasn’t that just as humiliating? She almost wished she could tell him about her recent escapade—
escapades
, she’d almost forgotten it was plural now—just so she didn’t have to confess the truth of her pre–last night sexual status.

No, she didn’t want him to know about Eli. Even if he understood now, when he realized who she was, he’d certainly be upset that she’d slept with his bandmate. His bandmate, of all people!

More guilt. More ignoring. She took a deep breath and typed.
I haven’t been with anyone in a while.
She added a winky face to make the admission less painful.

I didn’t realize how long a while was.

God, now he probably thought she was ugly or that there was something wrong with her. Actually, it might not be far off from the truth.

He typed again before she could think of anything to say.
But not even, you know, manually? You’ve been orgasm free?

Until last night …
Not even manually
.
If she hadn’t been blushing before, she certainly was now.

Wow. I mean, really. Wow. You have to know this is turning my thoughts dirty.

She had to read that twice.
Dirty? Why? Because my lack of orgasms in all forms gets you off somehow?
Though, now that she let herself think about it, underneath the humiliation the talk was kind of arousing. She crossed her legs to ease the pulse that had taken up between her thighs.

Because now I’m thinking about how I can help you test out your theory. But, I must admit, online sex is new to me.

Oh.
The pulsing turned to throbbing as heat bloomed inside her. Online sex with Folx. That was totally next level. The idea had her squirming and intrigued. And really freaking turned on.

She paused for a moment before responding further, about the moderators of the forum—did talking sexy count as personal information exchange?

But then she remembered the entire chat room on SoWriAn dedicated specifically to this sort of stimulating conversation. The foreword had read,
“Since inspiration is sometimes best found in the erotic…”
and then followed with a reiteration of the necessity of assumed identities.

After she took a peek inside, she had a better understanding of said “necessity.” The filthy chats there made
Fifty Shades of Grey
seem like a Disney cartoon. She could just imagine the media backlash that might occur if one of those naughty songwriters turned out to be, well, anyone.

Point being—if the mods let that kinky porn happen, then she and Folx could certainly indulge in a round of sex-chat.

Then she remembered where she was. In a public place. Her disappointment was immeasurable as she typed,
I can’t.

Oh, ok. Sorry to cross the line.

Cross the line.
That’s what Eli had said when he’d spoken out about Lance. It was a popular expression, but she hated the way she kept thinking back to Eli. It was distracting and made her slow in her response.
Wait, no! Not because of that. Please don’t think that. I’d love to. Really, I would. I’m just not exactly alone at the moment. Rain check?

Now
she
was planting connections in
his
head. Jax had offered her one earlier that night. She wondered if he remembered that as he read it on his screen now. If he thought of Lacy Dawson and began to pair her with the girl he knew as LoveCoda.

That is a rain check that I will definitely take you up on.

It was silly how twisted up and excited that simple statement made her. In many ways, it was a reassurance. It was a confirmation that she’d chosen right when she’d decided to commit herself to a man she’d never met in real life.

It was a reminder that she’d mucked it all up when she’d sexed up Eli. Twice.

Good thing she’d made the mistake before she actually made a verbal commitment to Folx. Now it was out of the way and she could move on. No more trysts with Eli. No more trysts with anyone. She was saving herself for Folx. For Jax.