Sweet Talk Me (16 page)

And it seemed like a lot of it had its foundations in a childhood filled with random moments of beauty and rapture: Weeds picked by the side of the road for a loving mother. A cake with really gooey frosting baked for a best friend’s birthday. A song plucked out on a fiddle for a family gathered around a table.

Unsolicited advice from a rascally boy telling you how to catch a blue crab on a rickety dock.

Surprises. Symbols of love. Spontaneous and heartfelt.

A wistful smile tugged at True’s lips as she thought about Harrison’s outrageous texting comment. Whoever he wound up with eventually—if that day ever came—would be a lucky woman. She’d never tell him so. It would go straight to his head. But she believed it with all her heart.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

House building under way for Gage—check.

Beautiful ex-lover in need of friendly support in car—check.

Song written for new album—

The big fat buzzer of loserdom went off in Harrison’s head. He had to get a move on when it came to the songwriting, but it was hard when True was sitting next to him. He took a quick glance at her serene face looking straight ahead on Highway 17. Damn, she was hot, but she also had a good head on her shoulders. She’d suggested to him and Vince that Gage’s house have an outdoor kitchen facing the water to attract chicks. He could cook for them on cool autumn days or early-spring ones. Hell, he could cook for them in the dead of winter, too.

“Anything to get him socializing,” she’d said. “He could use a hot tub, of course. And the media center should have theater-style seating and a popcorn machine.”

Harrison was truly grateful for her input.

Vince was, too, because he’d raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You’re a special girl,” he’d said, and threw a distinct what-the-hell-are-you-waiting-for look at Harrison.

“Thank you.” True had smiled shyly. “I like you, too, Vince.”

Harrison put his arm around her. “She’s going to make a beautiful bride in just a couple of weeks when she marries a guy we both knew in high school.”

“Oh,” said Vince, his face falling.

Harrison’s mood fell, too, at the very thought of Dubose wedding True, but it was none of his beeswax. Guitars, jets, hot dates with no strings attached, concert stages, and multimillion-dollar-making careers were his thing.

And so the visit to the construction site had ended on kind of an awkward note. But Harrison was pleased about the house plans. Vince had everything well under control, and the Sexy
Leave It to Beaver
House, as Vince called it, was going to be a spectacular place for Gage to live.

“Hey, are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you to say hello to any of the caterers?” Harrison asked True in the Maserati. They were coming up on Charleston. “Dubose’s mother doesn’t have to know you used me to get somewhere with them.”

True shifted in her seat. “I’m sure. They’ll tell her everything because she’s paying. And then she’ll think I’m useless, and she’ll tell Dubose you helped get his wedding back on track. He’ll hate that. Plus, he really wouldn’t approve of our hanging out together on general principle.”

“The whole town knows I’m at your house. He’s bound to find out.”

She sighed. “I know. I need to just tell him what’s going on.” She took out her purse. “I’m texting him right now.”

“Uh-oh.”

So she did. She wrote him a big, long note with her spindly girl fingers. Harrison was dying to ask her what was in it. Within thirty seconds, she got a text back.

“What does it say?” Harrison was on pins and needles.

She smiled. “It says,
Gamble’s obviously put you in a no-win situation in front of the whole town. It’s up to Maybanks and Warings to make the sacrifices that make a difference, though, so if this will improve the condition of our library, then I’m okay with it. As long as that bastard keeps his hands off you. You tell him I said so, and that his ass is grass if he so much as looks at you sideways.
”

“He’s always liked me,” Harrison said.

True laughed. “I’m glad I did that.”

They drove along in what he thought was damned happy silence for a few minutes.

“We still can’t risk you being seen by anyone,” she said. “That text to Dubose reminded me that you do need to write yourself at least one amazing song ASAP, and you need peace and quiet. Going with me on wedding errands is busywork. It isn’t going to help your cause, especially if some paparazzi land on your trail.”

“I’m an evil genius when it comes to evading the paparazzi.”

“I don’t care. I’m not going to be the reason they descend upon you. Besides, I can do this alone.”

“I know you can,” he said. “But are you sure you don’t want me to call an out-of-town caterer? Or celebrity chef? They can handle southern cuisine, if that’s your sticking point. And then this mess will be behind you and you can do all that fun bride stuff like painting your toenails or whatever it is brides do.”

“No, thanks.” She flipped her hair out for no reason at all, which he loved. “This sounds snobby, but getting a caterer or celebrity chef from ‘off’ would be considered tacky. And I’m still without a location. I need a big room overlooking the water. Something grand that’ll suit a string quartet, and then it needs a stage for the band.”

“What’ll they play?”

“Mainly old standards. Dubose’s law partners will be there. So will Penn’s friends. They never do anything with the Waring stamp on it that’s not entirely tasteful.”

“Thank God for the classy among us,” Harrison said drily, “saving us from our own worst selves.”

“What about you and your songwriting? How will you go about that?”

“Well, I can’t just sit down and say to the gods of country music,
Hit me.
I don’t know how it works. It seems that the more I try to come up with something, the worse my output is. Maybe my subconscious mind is working on a song right now.”

About a hot girl named True in a funky little dress.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” True asked.

“I don’t think so,” he lied.

God, yes.
He hadn’t had sex like he’d had with her since he saw her last. He’d written his first hit song over the next two days. Was there a connection?

Yes.

No.

Hell if he knew. Even if there wasn’t, his body insisted on pretending there was. Any excuse to get that girl back in his bed. And sure, he’d steal her away from Dubose and not feel a smidgeon of guilt if that were the right thing to do. But he knew it wasn’t. She deserved top billing in someone’s life, but apart from his lifelong devotion to Gage, that slot would always go to his career. Besides, True wasn’t cut out to be a groupie, tagging along with him all over the world. She belonged in Biscuit Creek.

Keeping her at arm’s length was the order of the day. But so was being a friend to her. He could manage both if he took a cold shower every night and imagined his mother and all the angels floating right above him, watching his every move.

No,
X
out the part about his mother and the angels. He’d stick with the cold shower. And maybe punishing himself with the Shopping Network channel if his thoughts strayed to the sexy.

“You can’t do a thing to help.” Harrison put a further lid on his raging libido by reminding himself that he’d been able to write twenty-four additional Top Ten country hits without having access to True’s sexual favors. “Being around a songwriter is like watching a squirrel reaching for an acorn on the other side of a window. Painful. Pitiful. And in the end, you’re mad at the squirrel for wasting your time, and you start to think he’s pretty dumb.”

Thank God they were getting close to town. Harrison needed out of the car. True smelled like flowers again, and her lips were all plump and ready for kissing. It was too much for a man to tolerate in a small, enclosed space without wanting to reach his hand across and grab her thigh and give it a good rub up and down.

He’d turn on the radio, but it would only remind him that he still had music to write. So instead, he asked True all about the politics of the city now. Who was mayor of Charleston? Was it still Joe Riley? Who ran the school board? How were they handling the tourism trade? What was happening with the port?

She knew everything about everything and loved to talk about it, which made him wonder if she was as relieved as he was not to think about sex. Or maybe it was the opposite—sex wasn’t on her mind at all. And this talking of hers was just what she wanted to do anyway.

Thank God the Ravenel Bridge loomed ahead, and the city was on the other side. Last time he’d been here was when he’d worked a couple of nights a week as a busboy at Carolina’s the second semester of his senior year in high school.

“I’d never think of you as a squirrel,” she said out of the blue.

“Um … thanks?”

She sent him a sideways look of semi-amusement.

“What animal do I remind you of?” He was dying to know. “And don’t you dare say a jackass. That’s too easy.”

“All right.” She feigned disappointment. “If I had to choose something else, you’d be a … lion.”

“Really? Or are you just saying that to make me feel good?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Oh. Right. Why would you? Our history pretty much sucks, except for those halcyon days when we were tweens, and then—”

“Don’t say it,” she said, but she wasn’t angry. She simply didn’t want to talk about that spectacular night they’d gotten together.

“Why am I like a lion, then?” he asked. “I’ve got a massive ego. I need to know so I can get my secretary to write it in my gold-plated journal.”

“Because you watch after Gage. And you have great hair. You’ve also got a temper.”

“Is that all?”

She made a face. “Okay, you’re sexy and you know it. Lions know they’re hot. Feel better now?” She scrunched down in her seat. “As if you don’t already have the whole world lying at your feet,” she muttered.

“And
you
,” he said grandly, “remind me of Lady in
Lady and the Tramp
, tough and smart but always elegant. Perhaps a little demanding, too?” He was driving down King Street, where Charlestonians did most of their shopping. “Lady’s my favorite girl Disney character. She beats out all the princesses.”

“So I’m a dog,” True said. “I notice you didn’t use the word.”

“I’m not an idiot, that’s why. Although who doesn’t love dogs? I miss having them.”

“You can’t?”

“Not really. They’d be ignored most of the time. I don’t want to do that to an animal—or a person.” He pulled over into a parking space. “My life has enough space for one—me.”

There. The lines were clearly drawn between them, which meant he could have more fun now. Not that he wasn’t already.

“You were born lucky,” True said. “I can never get parking down here by Bits of Lace. And look! They’re having their annual sale!” She obviously didn’t give a crap that his life had space only for one. “I still need a few things for my honeymoon.”

Did she now.

“I’m going to run in there first,” she said in that breathless way women did when they saw a good sale, “and then can we check back via text in an hour? All three caterers are either on King or Wentworth.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Oh, and Ben Silver is up the street near the city market.”

“Good.”

“While you’re there, would you mind looking at what they might have for groomsmen gifts? Dubose didn’t have time to work on that.”

“Not a problem.” He scratched the back of his neck. Damn Dubose.

She smiled. “Thank you, Harrison. Really.”

They were both searching for quarters to put in the meter when his phone chirped. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was a New York area code. Curiosity made him pick up, just in case it was someone from the studio.

“Hey, you.” Bad timing. It was Valerie Wren, the hottest single female country singer in Nashville. Her voice was like sweet bourbon going down slow.

True held up two quarters. “Not enough,” she mouthed.

“Hey, Valerie,” he said, and pointed at the glove compartment.

True got the message.

“How are ya?” Valerie purred.

“Great, great.” She was a sex kitten. No doubt about it.

True opened the glove compartment, and a pair of pink, polka-dotted panties fell out.

Damn. Those were actually brand new, never worn, and Dan had given them to him to give to Valerie. Dan liked to live vicariously, the sicko, all while pretending to help Harrison out with his lady friends, the way a thoughtful concierge would. Harrison had literally stuck them on Dan’s head, and this was Dan’s puny revenge—hiding them in his car.

True sent him the laser look of death and kept looking for quarters.

Harrison shrugged and tried to look like a choirboy.

“I was thinking about coming to visit you since you can’t come up here,” Valerie said. “These Yankees know how to throw some parties.”

“You’re sweet,” he said, “but I’m kinda busy, Val.”

“Too busy for me?” Valerie practically meowed.

True slammed the glove compartment shut and started rummaging through the little recess beneath the radio and then beneath her seat. Finally, she took out her purse and pulled everything out. No quarters.

“I’m too busy for everyone,” Harrison said into his cell. “I have some songs to write. But let’s catch up soon, huh? Maybe we’ll do a duet at the CMAs. They should be calling soon, don’t you think, with this year’s lineup?”

“I have no idea.” Valerie was pouting through the phone. “I’m busy, too, you know.”

Harrison pulled out his wallet and handed it to True. Then he pointed at a store. “Change,” he mouthed.

She glared at him, opened the wallet, pulled out a twenty—and a condom fell out between them.

God, no.

True stared at it then, without looking at him, tried to get out of the car.

“Hey, Val, I hate to go but I really need to.” True was practically yanking off the door handle. “You’re sweet to call.”

“Whatever.” Valerie hung up.

Harrison reached across True—the prettiest fire-breathing dragon he ever saw—and opened the door. She got out without a word and strode into the store.