Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“Sam…Sam…Sam!”
Sam jumped. He’d heard Graham in his periphery, but his brain shelved the noise under general background noise. Cranberry Brothers was busy, but it was almost entirely locals and only a few tourists. The table their little group had secured was shoved into a back corner, which was how Sam liked it anyway.
“What?” Sam asked, reaching for the crumbs in the bottom of the popcorn bowl in the middle of the table.
“You were on a different planet there.” Graham unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.
It was remarkable how relaxed his friend looked two years after moving to Crane Cove. In his previous life, Graham had been the founder and CEO of a thriving tech company until he inherited the hotel in town and left California to run it. That was how he’d met his wife Eloise, and Sam had never seen him genuinely happier. There was a looseness to his shoulders that had never been there before, and any new lines on his face were from smiling instead of stress.
“I got about as far as Jupiter.” Sam showed the bottom of the empty popcorn bowl to Sybil, a notorious popcorn stealer. In response, she calmly sipped her beer. “Did you need something?”
“Some explanations would be nice,” Graham said, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. He and Eloise had come straight from the hotel to make it to barbeque night.
Sam played dumb. “About what?”
“I heard—” Graham began, but paused when his wife sat down next to him with two beers in her hands and a bowl of fresh popcorn balanced on top of them. He helped Eloise sort out her load, then kissed her temple before continuing. “We heard that you’re dating someone in town?”
“Oh, that.” Sam shrugged, ignoring the staccato beat of his heart as he geared up to tell his first big lie to one of the best friends he had in the entire world.
“Some details would be nice,” Graham pressed. “Starting with why I had to find out from Kiki, who found out from Amara, who found out from Lenny the lunchtime line cook.”
“He’s been working on that all day,” Eloise confided in Sam, giving his forearm a companionable squeeze. “We don’t have anyone named Lenny working for us.”
“But Amara still found out from someone who works in the kitchen.”
“Well, Lenny the lunchtime line cook sounds like a very reliable source.” Sam snagged the bowl of popcorn before Sybil could.
“I heard it from Edith, who said she heard it from you,” Sybil said.
“Do you think Edith is a reliable source?” Sam asked, pushing the bowl back toward her as a peace offering.
“Normally I take her with a glacier-sized grain of salt, but since you’re the one who told her…”
“We’re figuring things out.” Not a lie, mostly the truth.
“What does that mean?” Graham pressed.
Eloise massaged the back of her husband’s neck. “Why don’t we give Sam some breathing room? Hm? It’s not like you haven’t met Lacey before.” She gave Sam a soft smile. “We’re happy for you. Don’t let Graham rain on your parade.”
Graham looked ready to launch a rebuttal, but he was cut off by the arrival of their food. Cole and Chase McMahon usually spent the entirety of a Thursday night running around their establishment, but they always took a few minutes out of their busiest night to visit. Or maybe it was to needle their oldest brother, Connor, who had been sitting silently in the deepest corner of their table, nursing his beer.
“Make room. These plates are heavy,” Chase said, and Sam wanted to laugh because Chase could probably have lifted Sam over his head. A plate of brisket was not doing anything.
“You’re so bossy.” Sybil stacked the full popcorn bowl inside of the empty one. “You’d think you owned the place or something.”
Cole placed aluminum tins of sides down. Family style worked better for the group than individual orders.
“Did you ask him yet?” Cole asked his twin brother. Chase shot him a silencing glare.
“Not yet. I was getting to it.”
“I tried to warn you,” Sybil reminded Sam, scooping some mac ’n’ cheese onto her plate before handing it to Eloise to be served brisket.
“Is this about the Boo-wery thing?” Sam asked, taking the tongs from Eloise when she was done and serving himself a hearty portion of brisket. Cole was a genius with meat.
“It’s a fundraiser. For charity,” Chase said with barely restrained eagerness. “You’d be a huge draw for the auction.”
Sam frowned. “I don’t really want to be auctioned off.”
“It’s a silent auction,” Cole added, like that was supposed to help.
“I don’t know…”
“Please,” Chase begged. “It’s going to be a really fun night. There’s a costume contest. And you can bring Lacey.”
Sam’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“It’s an easy date night,” Chase pitched.
“Are date nights supposed to be hard?” Sam asked Graham.
“We donated a romantic weekend package. Two-night stay, spa gift certificate, and dinner for two,” Eloise volunteered. “It’s for a good cause.”
“I don’t even know what I would donate,” Sam said, impending defeat on the horizon.
“A guitar lesson?” Graham suggested.
“No one is learning anything from a single guitar lesson,” Sam pointed out.
“Yeah, but it’s a guitar lesson from Sam Shoop ,” Sybil cooed, saccharine sarcasm dripping off her words.
“You could do a couple lessons?” Cole suggested cautiously.
“I don’t think I’m much of a teacher,” Sam said.
“You know more than someone just starting.” Chase was grasping at straws. “Experiences tend to go for more than a guitar pick.”
“So you’re saying a football-throwing lesson with Jordy would go for more than a signed football that could be sold?”
The twins exchanged an excited look. “Do you think we could get Jordy to donate a throwing clinic?” Chase asked Cole.
“I’m guessing not, since he’s currently got his arm in a sling,” Graham reminded them. “He can’t even shower without Annie’s help.”
“Which I’m sure has been so difficult for him.” Sybil rolled her eyes.
“Why haven’t you asked me to donate anything?” Connor asked from his corner.
“Because your only auctionable skill is being an overbearing pain in the ass?” Sybil said. She thought for a moment. “And pie.”
“There. I’ll make a pie a month for someone,” Connor offered.
“Not as exciting as a spiral clinic with a future Hall of Fame quarterback, but we’ll add it to the list,” Chase said. “Sam, can you at least promise me you’ll think about donating something? It’s for the puppies and kitties.”
“I will think of something,” Sam promised, even if internally he was crossing his fingers behind his back.
1467 Sycamore Street was a charming yellow and white bungalow with bright pink plastic lawn flamingos guarding the bushes. Sam parked at the curb, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t call Lacey because the street had horrific cell service.
Did he ring the doorbell? Honk? Throw rocks at her window?
No. Honking was rude. Plus, it garnered a lot of unwanted attention.
Since he didn’t know which window was hers, the doorbell it was.
Sam had his foot on the first porch step when the front door swung open and Lacey stepped out.
“Don’t wait up,” she called over her shoulder, and Sam thought he saw Gavin and Leo trying to sneak a peek before she shut the door. She didn’t look much different from normal: black leggings, a cruise ship sweatshirt that had the neck cut out of it so it hung off one shoulder, and her blonde hair twisted into a bun.
So why did he have heart palpitations and dry mouth?
“Hey, stranger.” Lacey’s smile was bright and a little breathless, like she’d sprinted from her room to reach the door before her roommates.
Then it hit him like a ball bouncing off his head. This was so high school. Showing up after dark, walking up to the porch, hoping he didn’t have to talk to the parents. Except Sam had never had this experience in high school. He hadn’t experienced high school. Before the end of his freshman year he had a recording contract and a tutor to homeschool him while he went on tour.
All that was missing from this scene was a jock in a letterman’s jacket threatening to beat him up because he dared to look at the prom queen.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Sam admitted as Lacey practically skipped down the steps.
“I mean, I was hoping for a trench coat and a radio over your head, but I’m impressed you got out of the car. Most guys just honk.”
“So honking is acceptable?”
“No, but the bar is so low it’s buried in hell.” Lacey hopped off the last step. “I believe I was promised ice cream?”
Lacey followed him in her car so he wouldn’t have to drive back into town again. Sam was grateful. He’d spent over an hour driving back and forth that day. Even if he didn’t have a lot to do, that was a lot of wasted time.
Maybe not wasted. He’d spent a lot of that time remembering what happened in Barcelona.
When they got to his house, Lacey boosted herself onto her spot on the kitchen counter.
“How was dinner?”
“There were a lot of people there.” Sam opened the freezer and took out the coveted Tillamook strawberry ice cream.
“Do you ever get overwhelmed by a lot of people?” Lacey asked. “Like it never bothered me when I was on stage, but sometimes I’m in a crowded room and it’s great and I’m in my element, but sometimes it’s too fucking much and I’d rather take off my skin with a potato peeler than be there for another minute.”
Sam stopped mid reach for the bowls. “Take off your skin with a potato peeler? Should I be worried that I’m alone in the woods with you?”
“I said my skin, not your skin.”
“Still. That is…graphic.” Sam shuddered. “I mostly just want to scream.”
“That is a valid and much less violent way of coping.”
“Tell that to my vocal chords.”
Sam put two scoops of strawberry ice cream into each bowl, put the container back in the freezer, then handed Lacey her bowl.
It made sense to him now, how spies got away with it. A change of hair color and makeup had been enough to throw him off. Stick her somewhere he wasn’t expecting to see her, and Sam had never stood a chance.
But where would he have thought he’d see her again? Barcelona?
Details about that night bobbed back to the surface throughout the day like messages in bottles finding the shore of a distant country.
The thumping, throbbing bass in the club he didn’t want to go to in the first place, but he’d gone because it was his drummer’s birthday.
“I was thinking about the night we met,” Sam blurted. “I never actually heard your name. It was too loud.”
“We did all that, and you didn’t know my name?” A laugh laced her voice. “Damn.”
“I felt like saying ‘Hey, what was your name again?’ would’ve killed the mood.”
“You’re right. I don’t lick the assholes of guys who can’t remember my name.”
Not for the first time that day, blood rushed to his cock. Because those memories had popped up a lot too, except he kept substituting Now Lacey for Then Lacey.
“Did you ever get that tattoo?” he asked.
Lacey’s spoon stopped part way to her mouth. “You remember that?”
“It randomly pops into my head,” Sam admitted. Once he’d gotten her naked, she’d made a comment about how different her unmarked skin looked next to his ink, and he’d asked if she’d ever get one while scraping his teeth along her hip bone.
“Yeah. Vampire fangs right there,” she’d responded breathlessly, lifting her hips to try and guide him. He’d bitten her instead.
“No, I never did.” Lacey’s cheeks were as pink as her ice cream. “If you’d told me then I’d be sitting on your counter one day eating ice cream and getting ready to pretend to be your girlfriend, I would’ve laughed.”
“At which part?”
“All of it. You were supposed to be just one wild night.”
“I was on your bucket list?”
“Not you, necessarily.” Lacey pretended to write in the air. “‘Fuck someone successful.’ Check.”
Sam laughed. It was hard to act like his ego was wounded with that kind of delivery. Besides, he’d had enough people jump into his bed because he was Sam Shoop that it was almost a relief that, at least for one person, he could’ve been anyone.
Lacey smiled. “Didn’t we have an agenda? ”
“Right.” Sam dropped his spoon into his bowl. “Let me find some paper.”
“Are you afraid you’ll forget?” Lacey called after him as he went down the hall to his bedroom to grab his journal.
When he came back, Lacey’s bowl was on the counter, empty, and he caught her red-handed taking a sneaky bite of his ice cream.
“Were you not done?” she asked around a mouthful of his ice cream.
“No, I wasn’t.” Sam dropped his notebook on the counter and slid his bowl away from her. “Aren’t you afraid I might have cooties?”
Lacey grinned. “Remember that time I stuck my tongue in your butthole?”
“Is that going to be your comeback to everything?”
“Probably for at least the next week.”
“Maybe don’t say that in public.” Sam tore a blank page from the back of his journal and wrote down
1. Do Not Bring Up Buttholes In Public.
“So we’re not being honest about how we met?” Lacey asked.
“Not that honest.”
Sam considered the meet-cute dilemma. Graham, Peter, and Jordy were all aware that “Barcelona” was about a one-night stand he’d had. Was Lacey aware that the song was about her and their experience? If she wasn’t, Sam didn’t know if he wanted to tell her. Would she think it was weird? Or would she make the same mistake the majority of listeners made and think it was a love song and he’d been pining after her for years?
“What if we tell a version of the truth and say we met during dance lessons for Graham and Eloise’s wedding?” he suggested.
“I do find the best way to lie is to tell the truth,” Lacey agreed. “So we met at Graham and Eloise’s dance lesson. Then what?”
“A little more honesty. We kept running into each other around town, fought over some strawberry ice cream, and I made you dinner.”
“We sound sickeningly adorable. Can I haveyour ice cream, by the way? It’s just sitting over there, melting, begging to be eaten.”
Sam sighed and pushed his bowl back in her direction.
“Don’t sigh at me. You have custody of the ice cream.” She tossed his spoon into the sink. “Rule number two: affection remains public.”
2. Affection remains public
“How public are we going to be?” Sam asked, looking up at her from his paper.
“I mean, I don’t think we should attend any orgies,” Lacey said, and he was embarrassed at how long it took him to realize she was joking. “But if this is going to be believable, we need to be seen in public together at some point acting like we’re together.”
It was a cheese grater to his nerves, but she was right. They needed to be seen together.
“I don’t really want this to go beyond Crane Cove,” he said. “So please don’t post about me on any social media.”
“My twelve followers will be very disappointed, but I think that’s smart. I don’t want your legions of groupies hunting me down.” Lacey tapped her spoon against her bottom lip. “We need a launch event. Something that shouts ‘We’re a couple!’ and proves this isn’t just a rumor.”
“What about the Boo-wery?” Sam suggested.
“The what now?”
“Cranberry Brothers is doing a fundraiser. There’s supposed to be a costume thing, a silent auction. I’m assuming since Chase and Cole are in charge, there’s going to be a decent turnout.”
“Oh yeah. Gavin and Leo donated to that.” Lacey tilted her head at him. “You want to do a costume contest?”
Sam shook his head. “No. I wanted to skip the event entirely, but it’s the only thing I can think of that fits your parameters.”
“We could rent a parade float and ride down Main Street.”
“The costume thing will be fine.”