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“I’ll get us something to drink. What would you like? Iced tea? Water? Beer?”
“Iced tea would be great. Thanks.”
“Coming right up.” Casey turned, and as he walked toward the kitchen, Dev noticed that the hem of his T-shirt was caught on the waistband of his briefs.
Which… Haru totally did not miss.
“Oh, god.” He covered his face with the hand not clutching the guitar case handle. “I really intruded on something, didn’t I?”
Dev chuckled. “It’s fine. We can always pick up later.” He gestured for Haru to sit down on the loveseat and took his own place in the rocker again. “I want to make sure you understand that. Casey and I are solid. I’m fixed here in Home.” He let his glance stray toward the kitchen archway, where Casey was humming snatches of “Wait for It” as he clattered around, collecting glasses and filling them with ice. “I’m fixed with him.” At least for as long as he’s here.
Haru smiled a little wanly. “He seems really nice.”
“He’s more than nice.” Dev glanced toward the kitchen again, his throat thick and his chest tighter than a drum skin. “He’s a superhero,” he murmured. “He’s saved our summer. Hell, he probably saved the whole town.” He fucking saved me. “Anyway.” Dev faced Haru again. “While I’m happy to welcome POV to Home Grown, it wasn’t my idea to invite you. I didn’t contact Joe, and I didn’t contact Nash, and I sure as shit didn’t float the idea of rejoining the band.”
“Oh, I know.” Haru sighed. “Some big shot entrepreneur called Nash about the gig. I think he’s the one who put the idea into Nash’s head that you were looking to get back with us. With him.”
Dev frowned. “Big shot entrepreneur? You know his name?”
“I don’t think Nash ever said, other than that his name was a household word.”
I’ll bet my vintage Les Paul that it was Pillsbury. Damn it, that shithead wasn’t kidding when he threatened to take it all. He hadn’t just meant Dev’s holdings and heritage. He’d meant Dev’s heart. Dev glanced at the kitchen. No way was he telling Casey about this. He’d blame himself, just like he’d blamed himself over the antique fair.
“Mmmphmmm,” Dev said.
“Then Nash started bugging Joe about it until he gave in. As for the other, I think I’ve been fooling myself. But when we met you outside Harrison House and he called me your replacement—”
“That was uncalled for.” Dev scowled. “I never even hinted that I—”
Haru held up both palms, displaying the telltale calluses on the fingertips of his left hand. “I know that too. But you know Nash. He never needs any backup for his own agenda.”
Dev snorted. “Trust me. I’m aware.”
“It’s just…” He sighed again. “I’d hoped that he’d eventually see me as myself, and not as the new Dev. Or that eventually you’d become the old Haru.” He choked out a laugh. “Of course, that would require him to actually call me Haru instead of Harry.”
“What can I say? He’s a dickhead.” Dev winced. “Sorry. I know you must have feelings for him.”
“Feelings, yeah. But the type of feelings are pretty much in flux right now. I should have gotten a clue when he never let me change the arrangements for any of the songs you wrote. I mean”—he shrugged apologetically—“that guitar break in ‘Slow Down, Sonny’ wasn’t exactly inspired, especially that chord change in the middle.”
Dev slapped his forehead. “He kept that in? You’re fucking kidding me. It was a mistake. We only included it on the demo because we didn’t have money for the studio time to re-record it.”
“I offered to fix it. I’ve got my own studio setup. But Nash refused. He claimed it proved the band was real.”
“Proved he was a real dickhead, more like,” Dev muttered. “Shit, that’s so embarrassing.”
“Here we are.” Casey bustled in with a pitcher of iced tea on a tray with two glasses and a plate of Sylvia’s macarons. He set the tray on the coffee table, angling it so that Dev and Haru could both reach it.
Dev frowned at the tray and then up at Casey. “Only two glasses? Aren’t you joining us?”
He patted his back pocket. “Text from Kenny. I’m needed at the registration venue. I might be awhile, but I’ll be back for dinner.” He headed for the door, and, yup, his T-shirt was still caught in his briefs.
“Babe?”
Casey turned, one eyebrow raised. “Yes?”
“If you think I’m letting you go without a kiss, you’re delusional.” Dev crooked a finger. “C’mere.”
Casey shook his head with a crooked grin. “I may be a terrible cook and have an indifferent palate, but I’ll never turn down that treat.” He trotted over and planted a warm, lingering kiss on Dev’s lips.
