4. Stone
STONE
I can’t fucking resist.
It’s not in my nature.
The second I see my buddy with a gorgeous beauty, I have one mission and one mission only. Hook him up.
Hook him all the way up.
He’s hot for her, and I bet she’s keen on him.
How could she not be? He’s the coolest cat with the biggest heart. And the ladies have always loved him.
Ergo . . .
I smack my bodyguard’s arm as we head to Speakeasy. “Bet me, Jackson. I bet I can get Callum to take her home.”
The retired Marine, who still sports a short, trim cut, shakes his head, grumbling. “You’d do well to stay out of other people’s personal lives.”
I roll my eyes. “Nope. Not my style. Can’t do that.”
“Of course not. Leopards don’t change their spots.”
“C’mon, J-Man. Don’t you like my spots?”
His face is impassive as he ignores me, scanning the joint, making sure I can get to Speakeasy without any crowds chasing us. The SUV dropped us off at the security entrance, and everything is looking good.
I pretend to check out my spots. “I think my leopard spots are hot AF. I bet plenty of others do too.”
“As if you need more adulation.”
“I will take all the adulation I can get,” I say as we head into Speakeasy, toward the private room in the back. My tone goes serious for a few seconds, something it rarely does. “You want to join me? My bud’s in the protective services business too.”
Jackson shakes his head. “I’ll stick to doing my job.”
He stands guard by the entrance to the private room, arms crossed over his chest. Man, if I could get this guy to break, it’d be a goddamn miracle. Maybe someday. Until then, I have other chords to strum.
“See you soon, handsome ,” I say, just to get his goat. I gotta tease him, since the man doesn’t crack a smile often.
I weave my way through the back room, knowing Jackson will make sure the crowds don’t find me. They haven’t yet, because the man is damn good at his job.
Callum spots me in a second and stands, clapping me on the shoulder. “Good to see you, man.”
I bring him in for a bro hug, then my eyes do a very happy dance when I see the beauty by his side. The one, the only, the heiress. And she is fine . “And that’s enough of you,” I say, and turn to the blonde. “Whoever do we have here?” I ask, as if I don’t know one of America’s wealthiest women.
The woman in the curve-hugging black dress rises. “Ivy Carmichael. Pleasure to meet you, Stone.”
She offers her hand, but I don’t shake it. Instead, I plant a kiss on top of it. “Charmed.”
“Likewise,” she says with a smile.
I swear Callum grumbles under his breath.
I scoff, looking at my bud, flashing my megawatt smile, the one that makes panties melt all over the globe. “Don’t worry, Cal.” I swat his arm. “I know she’s yours.”
Ivy blinks. Callum narrows his eyes and gives the slightest shake of his head.
But he knows me. He can’t have invited me here with her if he thought I’d keep my trap shut.
Impossible.
And this man knows me better than anyone.
Knows me because he had my back growing up.
I’m more than six feet now, but it took a long ass time to get here.
Being a late bloomer can suck it. And I’m grateful I had a tank for a friend back when I was a target for my size and my poetic, vulnerable nature , as all the teachers in high school said.
I sink down at the table, stretch out my legs, and spread my arms across the back of the booth, my well-worn T-shirt riding up a bit. As I settle in, the server appears.
“What can I get for you, sir?” the man asks. “On the house, of course.”
“In that case, a sixty-year-old Macallan would be fantastic.”
Ivy flashes a smile. “If that’s what you want, you should have it.”
I laugh. “Just kidding. I’ll take a Macallan on the rocks.”
The man says he’ll be right back, and thirty seconds later, he is. I give Ivy an approving nod. “Consider me insanely impressed. I see you have the best service.”
“We do indeed,” she says.
I lift my glass and offer a toast. “To old friends and new ones.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Callum says.
He clinks back, and Ivy does the same.
I knock back some of the scotch, savoring the taste, wiggling my brows as my taste buds thank me.
“How long are you in town for?” Ivy asks.
I flap my arms like wings. “I take off tomorrow morning.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “I’m staying at the Bellagio tonight.”
She narrows her eyes, making a playful growl. “No, you’re not. Stay here. I’ll arrange for our best suite. It would be my pleasure.”
I grin. “I won’t say no to that.”
“Good. And what brings you to town?”
I inch closer. “Truth?”
“Is the truth interesting?” Ivy asks, keeping up the volley easily.
Callum laughs. “Is it truth, or is it fiction? You never know with this guy.”
I heave a dramatic sigh. “I came to town for my grandma’s birthday party. An epic eightieth birthday party, and it was incredible. Now I’m here tonight with one mission and one mission only.”
“To agree to a one-night-only show here at my hotel?” Ivy asks, and I blink. Because hot damn. This woman goes for it.
But I was not expecting that .
“I hope it doesn’t bother you that I asked, but I know it’d be great for both of us,” she says.
“And I hope it doesn’t bother you that I invited Ivy along so she could ask, but I know nothing bothers you,” Callum says with a smile.
I stretch my arms out wide. “I am the definition of chill. Nothing gets to me,” I say, though that’s not true.
Not making music is the one thing that always bothers me.
Struggling with creativity hurts my soul.
But I’ve turned a corner, and I’m nearly done with my next album—which is why Ivy’s question intrigues me.
“So, what do you think, Stone? Because I’d like to make you an offer you can’t refuse,” she says.
I whistle, then smack Callum. “No wonder you’re hot for her, Cal. She just lays it on the line.”
“Stone,” he grumbles. “Really?”
I scoff, toss back some more scotch, then set down the glass. “As if she doesn’t know.” I sit up straight and meet the blonde beauty’s gaze. “Ivy, you can tell, can’t you?”
“Tell what?” Her question is ever so innocent.
I turn to Callum, shaking my head. “You should just kiss her. It’d make everything easier.”
He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Why did I invite you over here?”
I cross my arms, egging him on. “Yes, why did you?”
“I believe it was to convince you to say yes to a show here,” he says, his tone serious now as he leans forward, elbows on the table.
“Ivy has something fantastic planned for The Extravagant’s reboot.
And when she mentioned you’re the musician she wants most to kick it off, I said I’d do everything I could to get you to say yes. ”
Since he’s being earnest, I zoom in on the details. “I’m listening,” I say and zero in on the woman of the hour.
She straightens her shoulders, taking a breath. “My parents passed away a few years ago.”
My heart lurches for her. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. But truth be told, it was hard before then. My father was battling cancer, and my mother was taking care of him. So, their attention understandably lagged. We lost focus here at the hotel. We didn’t upgrade.
We didn’t devote our resources to it. Our concentration was on my father.
And all the care he needed took a toll on my mother too.
She had a stroke a few months after he passed away. ”
“Oh, Ivy. I’m terribly sorry.”
“Thank you.” She swipes a hand under her eye.
“I’m not saying this so you’ll feel sorry for me.
But I want you to understand what this place means to me.
They left the hotel—well, all the hotels—to my sister and me.
This is the one we grew up in, though, and this is our home.
It needed work, and we decided to renovate.
To take on all the changes we knew our parents had wanted to tackle.
I’m so proud of The Extravagant now, and thrilled with the new look.
To kick it off, we want to throw a series of one-night-only concerts.
I love ‘Make It Last.’ It got me through so many hard times, and to have you sing it would be a dream come true. ”
My heart squeezes. Hell, I want to say yes. I want to be the guy to help her out. But the media’s been hounding me about my next album. And I need to make sure this will be positioned the way I want.
“I want to say yes, but you know what the media will say. They’ll frame it as my comeback. But hell, I never left. The muse just takes time.”
“Then let’s not frame it as a comeback.”
“I don’t know how it would be viewed any other way. And the rub of it all is this—I have plenty of new material. I just want to control the message. I want it to be about the music, not about me.”
“So, you’re keen on it?” she asks, and her voice is laced with excitement.
Truth be told, I’m more keen than I expected. But I also sense an opportunity. To help out a friend.
I slide right back into shit-stirrer mode. I arch a brow and lick my lips. Then I look at my bud. “I bet if I agreed to play here, she’d kiss you.”
I let that tantalizing little nugget fall on the table.
Just to see if they’ll pick it up.
Maybe I’m an asshole.
But I can read this guy. I can tell how he feels about his client from the things he’s said over the last year, how protective he is of her, how much he admires her, and how he wants to keep her safe.
I know where he’s at.
And I know, too, since he’s a guy with lines, a guy with rules, that he won’t cross them unless he gets a kick in the pants.
It just so happens I give excellent kicks in the pants.
Ivy shoots me an oh no you didn’t stare. “Are you actually making me the stakes in a bet?”
Have I offended her? Oops.
“Seriously. What the hell, Stone? That shit isn’t cool,” Callum says, but his gruff tone seems to excite Ivy. She nibbles on her lips, looking at Callum, and he stares back at her like the world is on fire and he doesn’t care.
I lean back in the booth, cross my arms, and wait for these two to see what’s in front of my eyes.