Page 133 of Red Hot Harmony

“Yeah.” I placed the lid back on the grill and wrapped my arms around Camille’s waist. “They’re in the cabinet by the fridge.”

“I checked. They aren’t there.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive.” She nodded and sniffed the air. “Mmm...smells good.”

“You like?” I slid my palms up her back and tangled my hands in her unruly locks that were arranged into some kind of ponytail.

“Does it taste just as good?”

“It tastes even better, mama,” I whispered in her ear, my thoughts nowhere near food all of a sudden. This urge to swoop her off her feet—literally—and take her upstairs to the bedroom hit me hard.

More noise came from the street and spilled through the yard, announcing the arrival of Ally’s gang. Or at least, I thought so, based on the fact that all the adults except for Renn and her husband were here, but Renn’s vehicle didn’t sound like the Apocalypse in the making. Contrary to the belief that every classic car restoration shop owner drove a vintage, the Morelands preferred hybrid vehicles on most days.

No, the only people I knew with a passion for fast and loud cars were Frankie-boy, old man Rockwell, and Rose Marie—the nineteen-year-old who’d replaced Liar Trent in Systematic shortly after Camille and I’d had a friendly chat with him and Yesterday’s News Braden.

No one took advantage of our kid and made it out unscathed.

No one!

As if on cue, the door to the pool house swung open and Ally poked her head outside, a single curl of what was a promising do once finished bouncing against her shoulder. “That’s Pauline and Rose! Can someone let them in, please? I’m in the middle of fixing my hair.”

Roman volunteered. “You got it, boss!” he shouted from across the pool and rushed off to meet the guests.

“Did he just call my daughter ‘boss’?” Camille smiled that crooked, imperfect one-sided smile that made my stomach curl into itself.

“Our daughter,” I murmured against her cheek.

“Ewww!” came from the pool house. “Stop making out or get a room!” Ally warned. “You’ll scare all my friends!”

The door slammed.

“And here I thought leaked sex tapes were the way to go if an aging rock star wanted to boost his rankings,” I joked.

Harper and Cassy shared a laugh.

“You’re not aging,” Camille said, her face serious. “You’re maturing.”

“Whatever you say, mama.” I grinned.

She shook her head and attempted to hide another smile breaking through, but we were interrupted by teenage squeals.

Pauline and Rose Marie emerged from around the corner, escorted by Roman. Mac, Systematic’s bassist, was trailing a few steps behind.

Once the greetings were done, Pauline neared the grill and made a show of sniffing the air as I removed the lid to take the temperature of the chicken again. “Mmm, smells so good!” she said, circling me.

“Of course it does, darlin’.” I waved the thermometer in front of her nose. “You’re looking at the best chef in SoCal.”

“He’s exaggerating.” Camille squeezed Pauline’s shoulder in that tender motherly manner she practiced with all the youngsters.

“We’ll be back for more,” Pauline announced, then grabbed Rose Marie’s hand and dragged her into the pool house.

“Dang it.” I gritted my teeth. “They’re loud.” More screaming carried over from behind the door seconds later.

“Do you guys need help with anything?” Mac was asking, staring at the prep table as if we’d been working on dead bodies instead of vegetables.

“Sure, pal.” Harper handed him a knife. “Wanna chop some onions?”

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