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“What do we do now?” I dare to ask him.
He smooths down my hair, grabbing the base of my neck with the palm of his hand. “You get on the back of my bike,” he says gruffly.
“I’LL HAVE THE blueberry pancakes,” I say, handing the waitress my menu.
“I’ll have the same,” Cash adds.
We rode the rest of the way up Laurel Canyon and stopped at Jinky’s for food. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until we walked in and I smelled pancakes from a nearby table. Breakfast sounded so good, and I could eat a tall stack right now.
I turn my coffee cup over and watch as the waitress pours coffee into it from a fresh pot. Cash shakes his head and she takes the cup and saucer from out of his way. Steam billows out from the top, but I can’t wait until it cools to take a sip. The heat warms my hands as I wrap them around the cup.
“You’re not going to be able to sleep tonight,” he reminds me, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he looks at me from across the table.
“It’s decaf,” I reply, licking my lips as I set the cup back down.
“Not what I was referring to.” Suddenly, the distance between us is too great, but maybe that’s a good thing. I have missed this playful Cash.
I gulp, pressing my thighs together as heat radiates from my center. I watch him from across the table and imagine what he would be willing do if I were sitting next to him in the booth. Would he slide his hand under my skirt, or let his elbow brush across my already hardened nipple? There is a promise hanging in the air, and I intend to collect.
Instead, I look out the window and watch as people walk by. It’s late and the traffic has thinned, tourists safely tucked back into their hotel room beds. Upper Laurel Canyon is a small community off the highway with a few shops and restaurants. There’s a farmers market on the weekends that I’ve been to a few times when Jack and I finally had enough money to make the trip up. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here, and it’s nice to rediscover it with Cash.
L.A. has too many ghosts, and I will never be able to escape them. I have to learn to embrace them because these are memories that made me who I am.
“Have you been writing?” Cash asks out of the blue, bringing my focus back to him.
The waitress brings our food and in between bites, I answer him.
“Haven’t you heard? I’m the boss now.” I wiggle my eyebrows and Cash looks at me confused.
“I have my own publishing company,” I explain. “Under Bret’s label, but it’s all mine.” I stuff my mouth with a forkful of pancakes.
Cash grunts and busies himself by dragging a forkful of pancakes through the syrup on his plate.
“It’s completely separate from…” I start to say but he interrupts me.
“You don’t need to explain.” He looks up at me with a mournful look, and I know that Jack will always be between us.
I focus my eyes on my plate, concentrating on the syrup that pools to one side. I liked the easy nature of our banter, the promises, and the heated looks that start a fire in me. I don’t want that to end.
“I’m impressed, but I always thought you should record your songs,” he tells me.
“I was never comfortable on stage, you know that.”
“That’s too bad, because the stage sure fucking loved you,” he states, making me blush. If I wanted to I could have a solo career, but I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. If anything, I’ve already done that.
I press a palm to my plump belly and laugh. “Oh boy, at this rate I’ll gain fifty pounds,” I laugh, looking down at my nearly empty plate. All that remains are a few mushy blueberries soaking up the syrup I left behind.
“You’d still be beautiful.” In his heated stare, I can see how much he means that. His hand reaches across the table and he links his fingers with mine. I can feel an electric current between us.
I love when his lip pulls at the corner with a bashful smile.
I love the way he runs his hand through his hair when he’s nervous or frustrated.
I love the way he looks on that bike, strong and in control.
I love him.
“What about you?” I ask. “What do you want to do now?”
