Wallbanger (24 page)

Why the hell are you going back into the city? You’re doing that shoot in Carmel, right?

I just need to pick up some shit for the weekend.

Dude, pack your shit and get your ass to Tahoe.

I will, but I’m picking up Caroline.

I see.

You see nothing.

I see everything.

You sure about that, Big Boy? What about Sophia?

Sophia? Why is everyone asking me about Sophia?

See you in Tahoe.

Text between Mimi and Caroline:

You have some splainin’ to do, Lucy…

Oh no, I hate it when you go Ricardo on me.
What the hell did I do?

Explain to me why you didn’t tell me about your new client.

Caroline, don’t ignore my text! CAROLINE!!

Oh, settle down. This is exactly why I did NOT tell you.

Caroline Reynolds, this is news that obviously
I should have known about!

Look, I can handle it okay?? He’s my client, nothing more. He’s going to spend an obscene amount of money
on this project.

I frankly don’t care how much he’s spending.
I don’t want you working with him.

Listen to yourself! I will take on whatever new client
I damn well please! I have this under control.

We’ll see…Did I hear a rumor that you’re driving
up to Tahoe with Wallbanger?

Wow, subject change. Yes, I am.

Good. Take the long way.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Mimi?? You there??

Damn you, Mimi
…
HELLO??

Text between Caroline and Simon:

Wallbanger
…
come in Wallbanger

Wallbanger isn’t here, only the exorcist

Not even a little bit funny.

What’s up?

What time are you picking me up tom?

I should be back in the city by noon.
If you can knock off work we can beat rush hour.

Already told Jillian I’m taking a half day.
Where are you right now?

In Carmel, on a cliff overlooking the ocean

Boy, are you a closet romantic
…

I’m a photographer. We go where the money shot is.

Oh man, we’re not discussing money shots.

Besides, I thought you were the romantic one

I told you, I’m a practical romantic.

Well then practically speaking, even you would appreciate this sight—waves crashing, sun setting, it’s nice

Are you alone?

Yep

Bet you wish you weren’t.

You have no idea

Pfft
…
you old softie

There’s nothing soft about me, Caroline.

And we’re back
…

Caroline?

Yep

See you tomorrow

Yep

Text between Caroline and Sophia:

Can you give me the address again to the house
so I can plug it into the GPS tom?

No

No?

Not until you tell me WHY YOU’RE HIDING JAMES BROWN.

Jesus, it’s like having 2 more mothers
…

This isn’t about sitting up straight or eating more vegetables, but we do need to have a conversation about your posture.

Unbelievable.

Seriously, Caroline, we just worry.

Seriously, Sophia, I know. Address please?

Let me think about it.

Not gonna ask you again
…

Yes you will. You want to see Simon in that hot tub. Don’t lie.

I hate you
…

Text between Simon and Caroline:

You done with work?

Yep, at home waiting for you.

Now that’s a nice visual…

Prepare yourself, I’m taking bread out of the oven.

Don’t tease me, woman…zucchini?

Cranberry orange. Mmmm
…

No woman has ever done breakfast bread foreplay
the way you do.

Ha! When are you coming?

Can’t. Drive. Straight.

Can we have one conversation where you’re not twelve?

Sorry, I’ll be there in 30

Perfect, that will give me time to frost my buns.

Pardon me?

Oh, I didn’t tell you? I also made cinnamon rolls.

Be there in 25.

“I’m not listening to this.”

“Like hell. It’s my car. Driver picks music.”

“Actually, you’re wrong about that. The passenger always picks music. It’s what you get when you give up driving privileges.”

“Caroline, you don’t even own a car, so how could you ever have driving privileges?”

“Exactly, so we listen to what I pick,” I chided, sitting back after changing the radio station for the hundredth time. I hit the iPod and scrolled until I found something that I thought would please us both.

“Good song,” he admitted, and we hummed along.

The trip had been great so far. When I first met him—
heard
him—I never would have predicted it, but Simon was quickly turning into one of my favorite people. I’d been wrong about him.

I glanced at him: humming along to the song, drumming his thumbs along the steering wheel. As he was concentrating on the road, I took the opportunity to catalogue some of his more swoon-worthy features.

Jaw? Strong.

Hair? Dark and messy.

Stubble? About two days’ worth and nice.

Lips? Lickable, but lonely looking. Maybe I could check them out, do my own little tongue inspection…

I sat on my hands to stop myself from launching over the console. He continued to hum and drum.

“What’s going on over there, Nightie Girl? You look a little flushed. Need some more air?” He started for the air conditioner.

“Nope, I’m good,” I answered, my voice sounding ridiculous.

He looked at me strangely, but resumed his hum drum. “I think it’s time we broke out that cranberry-orange bread. Hit me,” he said a moment later as I was indulging in a fantasy about how exactly I could maneuver myself into his lap while still maintaining a good highway speed.

“I’m on it!” I hollered, diving into the backseat and surprising us both. I had my legs in the air and my bottom on display as I clasped my upside-down face in my hands behind the seat. I could feel how red my cheeks were, and I gave myself a little slap to snap me back into this world.

“That is one sweet ass, my friend.” He sighed, leaning his head on it as though it were a pillow.

“Hey. Ass Man. Pay attention to the road and not my heiney, or no bread for you.” I gave his head a bump with my bum and sent myself flailing as he took a turn.

“Caroline, you need to control yourself back there, or I’m pulling over.”

“Oh, zip it. Here’s your damn bread,” I snapped, crawling back into my chair in a graceless way and throwing the bread at him.

“What the hell? Don’t throw this. What if you’d bruised it?” he cried, gently stroking the foil-wrapped loaf.

“I worry about you, Simon. I really do.” I laughed, watching him struggle to open the end of the wrapper. “You want me to cut you a piece—okay, or you could just do that.” I frowned as he took a giant bite out of the end.

“Thif if mine, righ?” he asked, spraying crumbs.

“How do you function in normal society?” I asked, shaking my head as he took another monster bite. He just smiled and continued, eating the entire loaf in less than five minutes.

“You’re gonna be so sick tonight. That’s meant to be eaten piece by piece, not ingested whole,” I said. His only response was to burp loudly and pat his tummy.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re one twisted man, Simon.” I chuckled.

“You’re still intrigued though, aren’t you?” He grinned, turning the blue eyes loose on me.

My panties actually disintegrated. “Oddly, yes,” I admitted, feeling my face flame again.

“I know.” He smirked, and we drove on.

“Okay, the turn should be coming up just around this corner—I remember that house!” I cried, bouncing in my seat. It had been a while since I was up here, and I’d forgotten how beautiful it was. I loved Tahoe in the summertime—all the water sports and everything—but in autumn? Autumn was beautiful.

“Thank God. I need to pee,” Simon groaned, as he’d been doing for the past twenty or so miles.

“That’s your own fault for drinking that Big Gulp,” I admonished, still bouncing away.

“Wow, is that it?” he asked as we turned into the drive. Lanterns lit the way to a sprawling, two-story cedar house with a giant stone fireplace up the left side. Cars were already in the driveway, and I could hear the music spilling out from the back deck.

“Sounds like our friends have already got their party on,” Simon observed. Squealing and laughter joined the music coming from the back side of the house.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. My guess is they’ve been drinking since dinner and are half-naked in the hot tub by now.” I walked around back to grab my bag.

“We’ll just have to catch up, now won’t we?”He winked, pulling a bottle of Galliano from his bag. “I thought we could make some Wallbangers.”

“Now isn’t that interesting. I was thinking the same thing,” I countered, pulling an identical bottle from my duffle.

“I knew you were dying to get me inside you, Caroline.” He chuckled and grabbed my bag as we headed to the door.

“Please, you would make up a drink and call it a Pink Nightie just to have me in your mouth—and don’t even try to lie,” I taunted, nudging him with my shoulder.

He stopped midway up the walk and looked at me fiercely. “Is that an invitation? Cuz I’m a hell of a bartender,” he stated, the eyes glowing in the darkness.

“I’ve no doubt,” I breathed, the space between us now crackling with tension that was becoming ridiculously hard to ignore. I took a deep breath, and noticed he did as well.

“Come on, let’s get sauced and start this weekend.” He chuckled, nudging me with his shoulder and breaking the spell.

“Sauce away,” I muttered, walking up the path behind him.

Finding the front door open, Simon stashed our bags, and we made our way through the house to the back deck. There the lake spread out before us, just barely lit by the tiki torches dotting the dock and pathways that led to the shore. The entire back of the house was flanked with brick patios and decks, and that’s where we found our friends.