Page 69 of Bonding the Band

“ButI’llnotice.”

“We’ll make sure it’s finished in time,” I promised. “Now, could I tempt you with some ice cream, or would you prefer to settle in for a while?”

Meadow perked up. “Ice cream is my weakness.”

“Then I guess we’d better get you some. If you tell Beck your favorites, he’ll make sure the freezer is stocked.”

“Rocky road and brownie fudge swirl. With extra chocolate chips, and chocolate syrup, and strawberry syrup. Oooh, maybe some caramel syrup, too.”

“That’s the most omega ice cream order I’ve ever heard.”

He might have made quiet fun of her ice cream preferences, but I saw him add all of those to a grocery cart, anyway.

We led Meadow out to our ratty-ass station wagon that I’d bought as my first car. The thing had already been old as fuck when I’d bought it, but it had served us well.

“Um…” Meadow turned to me for some explanation.

“It lets us travel incognito.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

With the bench seating, we were all able to sit up front, and Meadow was safely tucked between Beckett and me while I told her about this incredible little hole-in-the-wall gelateria that made the best gelato outside of Italy. I knew, because the nonna who ran it told me every time, and I’ve eaten alotof gelato in my day.

“I know it’s not traditional ice cream,” I said, “but I need it to grace your tongue.”

“If it’s delicious, I’m more than happy to put it in my mouth,” Meadow promised.

Beckett’s oakmoss and new leaves scent filled the car, setting off Meadow’s florals. I took my time looking at her when we stopped at a red light. She took what I’m sure she hoped was an inconspicuous deep breath, but it made her pupils dilate and she wiggled in her seat. She had never commented on my scent before, or Beckett’s, but they were probably constantly overshadowed by Arlo and Hendrix being in her face at all hours. Did she like ours?

“Camping,” she said quietly.

Beckett tilted his head, examining her. “Camping?”

“That’s what your scents remind me of. My mom was a tea drinker growing up, never coffee, and when you wake up in the misty forest to the scent of freshly brewed tea staying warm nearthe fire, it’s just perfect. That’s what the two of you remind me of.”

“I guess Hen fits into that, too,” I added, “since he’s woodsmoke. Not sure how the citrus fits in, though.”

“Vanilla Earl Grey,” she replied. “That’s what I always brought when I got old enough to make my own treat choices. You haven’t lived until you’ve made a London Fog fireside. Hmm, Arlo still fits, too. When I was younger, I was an apple cider packet girly.”

“That’s sweet. Not the sexiest comparison for a rock band,” Beckett said with an amused smile, “but I’ll take it.”

He slipped his fingers into Meadow’s, and she held on, giving him a tentative smile in return. At times like this, I wished I was comfortable using only one hand to drive. I wanted to hold her hand, too, but it would have to wait.

Once we arrived, we hustled her inside, where Nonna Russo waved to us. “I was beginning to think you had been kidnapped.”

“Just on tour,” I replied, delivering an air kiss to each of her cheeks.

“You brought a friend?”

Beckett lifted a finger to his lips and Nonna nodded, her eyes gleaming.

“Nonna, this is Meadow. Meadow, this is Nonna Russo, gelato goddess. Can I please get a scoop of hazelnut and a scoop of dark chocolate?”

Nonna nodded and got it ready before turning to Beckett. “For you?”

“Nocciola and amarena, please.”

“And your secret friend?”

---