Friends Don't Fall in Love(50)
Jefferson moves into a new song, pressing his lips to the mic and meeting our eyes. “This one’s untried. I wrote it a while back and kind of threw it to the wayside, but I’m suddenly feeling it.” He looks over his shoulders to his bandmates. “I’ll go solo on it unless you wanna jump in.”
Then he meets Mathers’s eyes and starts to strum.
Within a few chords, I know this has to be on the album. I can also tell it’s exceptionally personal and probably biographical. A glance at Mathers and she’s pressing her lips together, pushing her big bold curls out of her face and revealing glittering eyes. The song is about a sinner in love with a saint and is told from the perspective of after. Not as if whatever they had was over, but instead it’s because she’s no longer a saint. He’s corrupted her with their shared sensuality.
By the time he’s done, both Annie and Lorelai, who’s come alongside me, are fanning their pink faces. Arlo removes his hat, swiping at his forehead, and everyone laughs.
I press the speaker and lean forward. “Okay, so that’s going on the album.”
“Gotta check with Annie first.”
“Oh, sure,” Annie pipes over the speaker, chuckling despite the flush in her cheeks, “ask me after you’ve played it for everyone.”
“Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, darlin’. Learned that one from you, little Miss ‘Coattails.’ And ‘You’d Be Mine.’ And ‘That Man’s Gonna.’ And—”
“Okay, okay. We get the picture. I’m just kidding, anyway. How dare you sing that when there’s glass between us and witnesses, including one I’m practically related to.”
Coolidge winks and drags his callused fingers over the strings, and I clear my throat. “Right. We’ll come back to that one and the one before it because as far as I can tell all the songs you have stockpiled there deserve to be laid down as tracks. I have some thoughts on some engineering stuff with regards to overall vibe and maybe some crossover potential if you’re amenable, but first, while I have Lorelai here, what are your thoughts on the duet?”
Annie presses forward again on the button, but she’s talking to Lorelai behind me. “A thousand times yes.”
Coolidge laughs into his mic. “Yeah, what she said. Let’s do it.”
Within moments, we’re settled on chairs, sofas, stools, and even a pair of cushions that Arlo dug out of his office, all cozily crowded around the sound booth. Waters, beers, and for Lorelai, a cup of honey lemon tea are distributed as we workshop the duet. Annie is an impeccable resource on timing and delivery, taking my lyrics and parsing them in a way that feels fresh. After barely thirty minutes, they’re ready to lay it down and head back into the studio, picking up their headphones and stepping up to the mics.
I’m not sure I’ve ever had a recording go so smoothly. I’d sure as hell never experienced anything like it from the other end when I was working under Drake. Everything has come together so seamlessly, it almost makes me second-guess myself, but I can’t second-guess Lorelai and Jefferson. Truth is, sometimes that’s the way it works. Things just click and personalities jibe and vocals marry, and anyway, I called it from the start. I knew these two would be perfect for this song.
After the duet, we decide to call it a night. It’s not that late, but I don’t need anyone straining their vocals and this is a good stopping point. Plus, and maybe more important, I’m dying to get Lorelai alone to talk. We’ve barely scratched the surface on the conversation from earlier and I’ve been itching all fucking day thinking she might still be questioning whether she should be here with me. With us. The duet should have proved it a hundred times over, but I need to be sure.
I more than anyone know firsthand how fucked up Lorelai was after Drake’s rejection, followed by the rejection of the entire industry. It’s been years, but the writing’s on the wall. It’s all coming back in full force, and I can’t let that happen.
Last time, I let her leave and have her space. I won’t be making that mistake again.
“Come back to my place?” I ask, before realizing how it sounds and feeling my face burn.
Lorelai’s face lights up with something and I bite my tongue to keep myself from walking back the offer. After all, I chose this. I made the commitment that whatever she needs, I can do that.
Am I seriously questioning the chance to pleasure this woman? What the fuck is wrong with me, acting as if I haven’t been fighting off hard-ons all day just breathing in her scent?
“Should I stop for some pad thai on the way?” Lorelai asks, completely unaware of my inner turmoil.
Resolved, I shake my head and lean closer, my voice barely a rasp. “I’m hungry for something else tonight.”
That mysterious something is back, lighting up her features again as her full lips spread in a sexy smile.
* * *
We barely make it up the walk before I’ve pressed her up against the front door, the callused pads of my fingers smoothing unspoken thoughts into her petal-soft skin, my split-second decision made that tonight is about Lorelai. After all, it’s what a good friend would do.
I dip my head, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, and gently suck her bottom lip between mine before using my teeth. Lorelai responds immediately, bucking her hips against me in a torturously slow roll, and my grip on her tightens, my body molding against hers. She twists her tongue with mine and I swallow the little gasps that escape when I drag my thumb across her sensitive nipple hidden under the layers of her tee and bra, once, twice, three times circling in time with my hips.