Once Upon a Real Good Time Page 11

  I sigh heavily. “Men and women can work together. Men and women can be friends. Men and women don’t have to be stuck in this Neanderthal existence where they only think and breathe sex.”

  JJ knocks on the side of my skull. “Where is my friend Campbell? What did you do with him?”

  I pat my chest. “I’m right here, being rational.”

  Cade points at me. “No, man. You’re being crazy.”

  As we walk out, JJ clears his throat. “Listen. I know Rebecca’s manager. Want me to reach out to him and put out some feelers?”

  “That’d be great. Thank you.”

  “After that, it’s up to Miller.”

  But I have a hunch this might be exactly what Miller needs.

  Chapter 17

  Mackenzie

  * * *

  The next Wednesday I receive an SOS from my son in the middle of the day. It’s one of those fantastic messages that only a thirteen-year-old can send. Meaning, it requires a Rosetta Stone to actually decipher it. Sort of like the time he sent me a message that said onions today because he needed to pick them up for the Easter food drive.

  This one says Beethoven Sonata.

  I write back and ask for more info.

  His reply is speedy, but obscure and blessed with a typo. Sheer music.

  I fire back. Sheet music? Which ones?

  He replies today, then adds a sorry-faced emoticon along with a begging one.

  I ask again which sheet music.

  But he doesn’t reply, and I suspect he must have stuffed his phone into his backpack to return to class.

  Time for me to spring into action. Fortunately, I’m nearly done with a magazine ad for a watchmaker—I was hired to photoshop the model’s hand. Now he looks like he has the manliest, but softest, hand in the world.

  I save the file, grab my purse and phone, and catch the subway to the music shop where we usually buy our sheet music. The grizzled guy who works there can likely interpret pre-teen hieroglyphics.

  No such luck.

  The ponytailed dude working today is new, and incredibly precise. He lists about fifty thousand Beethoven sonatas. He tells me there are tons of sheet music options. “This just isn’t enough to go on. I want to help you. Trust me, ma’am, I do. But I’d have to relinquish my degree in music if I just willy-nilly plucked sheet music from the shelves. When you don’t know much about music, you need to be more specific.”

  I shoot him a look that says his condescending attitude isn’t welcome. “First, you don’t have to call me ‘ma’am.’ I’m younger than you. And two, I don’t think you’d need to turn in your degree simply to help me. But I’ll figure it out on my own.”

  I turn away from him and call Campbell, hoping I’m not interrupting him. He answers on the first ring. “Former teen sensation at your service. How may I pleasure you?”

  A laugh bursts from my throat. “Campbell, what if my son had called you?”

  “One, he doesn’t call from your phone. Two, he texts. Three, who else would it be but you? Four, if it wasn’t you, I’m not ashamed if the world learned the truth of my second career operating a phone sex line.”

  “You are the biggest troublemaker I’ve ever known, and I’m trying to pick up the sheet music Kyle needs for the next lesson with you. I didn’t want to trouble you, but Kyle’s note didn’t have enough details.”

  “Oh yeah, I gave him some complicated stuff. You need help?”

  “Like pasta needs sauce.”

  “Where are you?”

  I tell him the name of the music store.

  “I’m three blocks away. Stay there. Don’t move. I’m coming to your rescue, m’lady.”

  “I’m not helpless,” I tell him, but I kind of am right now, considering Ponytail’s disdain for me.

  “Let me believe you are. There is something rather sexy about you standing in a music store needing my assistance.”

  Five minutes later, the bell above the door chimes and in strides a guitar god. Campbell walks toward me, wearing faded blue jeans that hug his strong thighs and a form-fitting T-shirt that manages to show off his flat abs and toned arms.

  Ponytail stares at him slack-jawed. No words come out of his open mouth, just a lip sync of oh my God.

  Campbell nods to the man and says, “How you doing?”

  Ponytail squeaks.

  When Campbell arrives by my side, he gives a cocky grin and says, “You’re looking at me like I’m the answer to all your prayers.”

  “How do you do that?”

  He flashes a too-debonair smile. “How do I exude rugged charm every single second of the day? It is quite a talent, isn’t it?”

  I point to his midsection. “No. How do you have such flat abs?”

  “Ah, you like my abs?”

  “Yes. Is it not obvious?”

  He scratches his jaw. “I don’t recall your hands on my belly enough to know if it’s obvious. Show me.” He gestures to his stomach.

  I laugh. “Not here in the store.”

  He leans in close as we stand in the aisle amid the drum music. “I won’t count it against you.”

  “Count it against me in what?”

  “In your efforts to be a good girl. I feel this would be a worthwhile exception to your good-girl pursuits.”

  One little touch won’t change the score. I drag my nails down his stomach, and I nearly howl in pleasure.

  Campbell groans in a delicious voice that sends sparks dancing up and down my spine. “Well, that’s not fair. You rendered me helpless after I arrived to rescue you.”

  “Rescue me, then,” I tell him.

  He tips his chin to the violin music, and without batting an eye, he snatches the music for several violin sonatas, rattling off the names as he plucks each one from the shelf. Once I purchase the music, we head to the street. “Thanks again. I guess I should go.”

  He tilts his head to the side, his playful eyes sparkling. “Or we could get a cup of coffee, since we sort of happened to run into each other in the middle of the day.”

  “It was quite happenstance, wasn’t it?”

  “Completely. I know the guy who runs the shop next door.”

  “Happenstance coffee next door sounds great.”

  After all, we’re friends. We like each other’s company. There’s no reason not to have a cup of joe.

  We turn into Dr. Insomnia’s Tea and Coffee Emporium. Campbell knocks fists with the tall guy behind the counter. “Hey, Tommy. What’ll it take to get a coffee in this joint?”

  The guy breathes out hard. “Don’t know. That’s a tough one.”

  Campbell asks what I’d like, then places our order and guides me to a table near the back. “Let me grab our drinks.”

  He makes small talk at the counter with his friend then joins me a minute later, drinks in hand. “Tell me more about Mackadoodle.”

  I laugh and take a drink. “What do you want to know?”

  “Any sisters or brothers?”

  “I have one sister. Jackie lives in Connecticut and has three little kids, all under the age of five. We were close growing up.”

  “Are you still?”

  “For the most part. I try to get out there often and see her—and my parents, since they live there too.”

  “What did you and Jackie like to do when you were kids?”

  “I loved to read to her. She was kind of a scaredy-cat, so I broke her down and trained her to like Goosebumps.”

  “You trained her?” He arches his brow as he drinks his coffee.

  “Of course.” I square my shoulders proudly. “No sister of mine was going to be a sissy. I taught her she could handle creepy ventriloquist villains and scary talking cars. And when I wasn’t toughening her up, we pretended we were rock stars.”

  He smiles widely. “Did you play an instrument?”

  I shake my head. “I shredded a most amazing air guitar, and she pounded away on a fantastic set of mime drums.”

  “Excellent. I see you
hit all the basic requirements for growing up.”

  “Pretending to be in a band is definitely one of them. Sort of like having a treehouse. Did you and your brothers have a treehouse?”

  “Yes, and we played music in it.”

  I laugh, loving that image. “That’s brilliant. I can see that.”

  “We’re pretty close now too, like you and your sister.” He drums his fingers on the table. “Three kids. That’s a handful.”

  “Yes, indeed. But Jackie’s happiest when she’s up to her elbows in mac and cheese and Legos.”

  “What about you?”

  “I do love mac and cheese too.”

  He smiles. “Do you wish you had any more kids like Jackie does?”

  I arch a brow. “This really is a deep-dive conversation.”

  “I’m making the most of my happenstance coffee.”

  He is indeed. In fact, I like that about Campbell. He doesn’t waste time or words. He grabs hold of opportunities, like he did the first night with me, like asking for the chance for a second date, and then at Jamison’s house when he grabbed the opportunity to get to know me more. He seems to sink his teeth into life’s moments and savor them when they come around.

  I meet his gaze, my tone serious. “Is that because of what happened to you? Losing Sam’s mom? Is that why you grab these moments and make the most of them?”

  He cocks his head to the side as if considering that for the first time. “That’s a good point. I hadn’t thought of it like that, but yeah, maybe it is. I try not to waste time doing pointless shit. I want to savor every moment.” He gestures to me. “And that means I want to understand this fascinating woman I like spending random moments with. So, back to you. More kids—yay or nay?”

  “Ah, my turn again. And I’ve thought about it—more kids. But it’s not in the cards. And that’s okay. Besides, I can’t imagine starting over again now. Can you?”

  He scoffs, shaking his head adamantly. “No way. I feel like I’m the astronaut who made it around the moon and now I’m circling home. Almost done, you know?”

  “We’re nearly in the homestretch. I honestly have to laugh sometimes when I hear from my mom friends with toddlers and babies. They’re up to their arms in diapers and have kids with their fingers reaching for sockets. Don’t you feel like you’ve earned your badge?”

  “I have my war wounds. That’s not to say that having a teenager is easy. I really do think the teen years are my favorite though. That might sound crazy, but there’s something nice about being able to discuss the state of the world, or politics, or the environment, or right or wrong, or bullying with your kid, know what I mean?”

  “Yes, and when they suddenly like to talk about other things besides toy trucks or princess dresses, you can make an impact in a brand-new way.”

  “Precisely.”

  As we drain our coffees, we chat more about the ups and downs of parenthood, favorite games we played as kids, and whether we’re close with our families. I learn Sam visits with Campbell’s mom and dad once a month in Jersey and always has, and Campbell relishes that closeness she has with her grandparents. I tell him that Kyle is tight with my parents and my sister. Neither of us says it aloud, but I suspect we’re both secretly delighted we’re similar in how we’ve raised our kids. It’s a bond I never sought to have with a man, yet it’s one I like a lot.

  “Hey, Mackadoodle,” he says, holding up his empty mug.

  “Yeah?”

  He leans forward, his eyes holding mine. My stomach flips. “I like talking to you.”

  I smile like a giddy woman who really likes a guy. As way more than a friend. “I like talking to you too.”

  He stands up and moves to the same side of the table as me, wrapping his arm around the back of my chair, leaning in close. “I like looking at your mouth.”

  I shiver. “You do?”

  “Your lips are so fucking sexy. I know you think I’m a filthy bastard.”

  “I don’t think that,” I whisper. I lower my head, my bangs falling over my forehead.

  He brushes them away. “Did I embarrass you?”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s just you’re doing it again.”

  “What am I doing?” he asks, but he has to know. The sexy smirk tells me he does.

  “You’re turning me on when you’re not supposed to.”

  He groans and brushes strands of hair off my shoulder. I tremble from his touch. “You get turned on when I tell you how sexy your lips are?”

  I nod as pleasure lights up my skin.

  “Do you get turned on when I flirt with you?”

  “All. The. Time.”

  He grins. “What else turns you on?”

  A part of me is keenly aware I’m playing with fire. This kind of flirting is dangerous. It threatens the stable, comfortable life I’ve carved out—one that now includes Campbell as a regular fixture in it.

  But the fire feels so good. It draws me in and heats me up. I want to feel the flame, so I nibble on my lip. “Sometimes, when you’re at my house and I walk past you while you’re teaching my son, I swear butterflies launch a full-scale attack in my belly, and I’m thinking filthy thoughts, and kissing thoughts, and crazy thoughts, and it’s all a mess.”

  Something like a growl comes from his throat. “Kind of a mess for me too. And sometimes I want to make a mess of your hair.” He drags a hand up the back of my neck, and I tremble. Then I gasp as he tugs on a chunk of my hair. “Would you think I was a dirty bastard if I told you I was rock-hard right now?”

  I purse my lips and shake my head. “Would you think I was dirty if I tried to cop a feel?”

  “Fuck no.”

  I’ve zoomed past restraint, because the next thing I know my exploring hand slides along his thigh, inching up to his crotch. I’m feeling him up underneath the table, stroking the hard outline of his erection through his jeans. In this moment, I don’t care about good-girl pursuits and what counts and doesn’t count. The only thing that counts is this fire that needs to be quenched.

  “Love the way you feel,” I tell him.

  He groans, low and carnal, and brings his lips to my ear. “Time for that rain check?”

  Chapter 18

  Campbell

  * * *

  You know those commercials where the guy is out on the golf range, and he’s just hit a fabulous shot? Or where the dude is proudly sailing the seven seas as skipper of his own rig? And the ads say: This is my happy place?

  Those guys have nothing on me.

  Right here. Happy place.

  My buddy Tommy letting me pop into the tiny office at the back of his coffee shop for a midday blow job—that’s cause for jumping for joy. Not that I told him explicitly what was going to go down. I just said, “Do me a solid and let me check out your office for ten minutes.”

  Mackenzie’s hands are speed demons as she unzips my jeans and pushes down my briefs. My cock greets her with a full-on salute.

  “Nice to see you too,” she murmurs, staring at my dick.

  “I bet the view’s even better from your knees.”

  “Smart-ass.”

  I set my hands on her shoulders. “Allow me to help you.”

  I guide her to the floor. I’m so fucking grateful we’re abandoning the we-don’t-want-to-screw-each-other-senseless act, at least for the moment. “I’d like to make a mess of your hair, and now your lipstick.”

  She flashes a grin as she wraps a hand around my shaft, her touch sending jolts of electricity through me. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” She flicks her tongue over the tip, pure desire flashing across her brown eyes as she strokes and licks.

  “That’s a beautiful view.”

  “How’s this?” She presses her cheek against my shaft.

  I shudder. It’s filthy and reverent at the same time. She rubs me against the side of her face, and holy fucking hell. My dick looks good against her soft skin.

  She moans and whispers as she rubs, and I could die ri
ght now. She is so fucking sexy like this. Especially when she slaps my dick lightly against her face. Dear Lord.

  “Do it again,” I tell her, and she obliges, and I’m nearly burned alive with lust.

  Like my dirtiest prayers have been answered, she drags my cock to her soft, warm lips and draws me in an inch. I growl in incomprehensible pleasure as her mouth engulfs the tip.

  “Yeah, just like that,” I mutter as she swirls her tongue across the head.

  She lifts her hooded eyes up to me as she sucks. She’s going to tease me, toy with me. My legs are shaking with desire, my muscles strung tight with wanting. “Don’t,” I warn.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t tease me, Sunshine.”

  Her eyes twinkle with naughtiness. Laughing, she peppers kisses on the side of my shaft. I curl my hands around her head, gripping her skull. “That’s not what I need, and you know it.”

  She smiles with the head of my dick in her mouth. “It’s not?” she mumbles.

  I shake my head. “Get your lips all the way around me.”

  She flicks her tongue along my length, licking her way up and down, teasing me as if it’s her favorite thing to do. Sliding her hand between my legs, she cups my balls, fondling. I shudder as she runs her nails across them. It’s like she’s delivering an electric charge to every single cell in my body. I’m lit up. I’m on fire.

  “Please,” I groan.

  “Please what?”

  “Please suck me hard.”

  She wiggles her eyebrows and dives in. All the way. She goes from zero to sixty in two seconds. “That’s it, Sunshine. That’s fucking it. Suck me so hard your cheeks hurt.”

  My dick hits the back of her throat, and somewhere birds sing. The heavens open. A comet streaks across the sky.

  Wrapping my hands tighter around her head, I fuck and fuck. “This is my happy place,” I mutter as my dick slides in and out of her mouth. Her pink lips are so tight, her eyes so fierce. Her attention is a thing of beauty.

  The friction in her mouth is astonishing, and she sucks with such abandon, such determination I can barely take it. Pleasure sizzles up and down my spine. Fucking bliss takes over, throwing me into a tailspin of ecstatic oblivion.