Page 132 of Red Hot Harmony

I wasn’t sure how Roman had made him give up the wheel, but neither looked troubled by the swap that had occurred somewhere between the time they’d left my place and now.

“Almost ready,” I told him and we strode back into the house.

I’d been scared of the old man at first. He’d projected immense terror and I’d found myself constantly thinking about how to please him and his wife, how to make them like me. Growing up with shitty parents had been a bummer. Having parents-in-law that despised me was even worse. Often, I wondered if my brain had never been wired for a relationship with parental figures.

I was wrong.

Eloise had taken longer to turn, but one trip to a classic car show with the old man had pretty much made him worship me. Well, that and some Boston covers I’d played for him here and there in private.

Roman was grinning, which was so unlike him. Then again, he wasn’t on duty today.

“Dante!” Harper called from the back yard, his voice drowning in the music and the cheering of the fans on TV. “I’m pretty sure your chicken has entered the well-done phase and needs some checking!”

I gave Camille’s father a pat on the shoulder and rushed off to make sure we didn’t end up without a main course tonight.

Ally would kill me. After all, she advertised the party to her friends as a barbeque and disappointing a horde of hungry teens could never go well.

“So when are we going to meet that mystery man of yours?” I asked Harper as I lifted the lid off the grill and stuck the thermometer in one of the pieces.

“Yeah.” Cassy nudged his ribs with her elbow. “Why didn’t you invite him over?”

“I did.” Harper paused what he was doing, his hands hovering above the mountain of freshly washed vegetables. “He had some other commitments and couldn’t make it.”

“Hmmm.” I noted the temperature of the chicken. “He sounds like he’s avoiding us.”

“That’s not it.” Harper shook his head once and returned to chopping celery. “But you guys need to stop giving me crap about him.”

“Well, how long do you plan on keeping him a secret?” Cassy huffed and then blew at a strand of black hair that had fallen out of her bun and stuck to her nose.

“Says the woman who had a hush-hush affair with a rock star,” Harper came back with a smirk.

“Just so you know, the affair didn’t last very long.” She grinned up at him.

“Yeah, because the man in question is wanted by paparazzi twenty-four seven. I imagine hiding things when you’re being hunted is difficult.”

“It had its charm.” All of a sudden, her eyes had that glazed look I often witnessed when Frankie-boy was in close proximity. “Not sharing him with the world.”

“Then you know exactly where I’m coming from,” Harper drove his point home.

“I suppose I do.”

They continued their little chit-chat while I flipped the chicken and added a pinch of seasoning.

Camille’s silhouette lingered in my peripheral as she stepped out on the terrace and halted for a moment to drink in the scenery.

She and Ally had moved in with me almost a year ago, but even all these months later, seeing this woman in my house like this—a little disheveled and serene and belonging—still took my breath away. I’d never thought I’d enjoy waking up with the same person next to me every morning, but, man, that feeling was all-encompassing. It filled the cavities in my chest that the crazy lifestyle on the road, the drugs, and the booze had once put there.

I shifted my gaze from the grill to the terrace, to that spot where Camille stood. The sun played with her hair and the light wind ruffled her sundress. She was beautiful, I realized, even in that ludicrous apron, and suddenly, I wanted to hold her in my arms.

I wanted to ensure that she and everything that came with her—peace, love, and family—was real and not a figment of my fucked-up imagination.

As if she’d just read my mind, Camille strode over, peeking at the salad in the process.

There was a smudge of flour on her right cheek and I couldn’t resist running my thumb over it and sticking that thumb in my mouth.

“How’s the cake, mama?”

She rubbed the spot I’d touched with her fingers. “I can’t find candles. You did get them, right?”

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