Forgetting Popper (Los Rancheros #3) (15 page)

“I know you can. But if there are resources
and connections you can utilize, why not take them?” I know he’s
annoyed because his grammar is getting precise. This is not how I
want this night to go.

I put down the spatula and put both of my
palms on the marble counter top. “I needed to do this myself. After
seven years of ignorance, I had to do this myself, my way. I didn’t
want connections or resources. I made the reservations and paid
with my debit card. And you know what? It felt really good.”

Batty sighs and fluffs the salad in the bowl
to coat the lettuce with dressing. “Alright, baby. I hear you.” I
pull the cork on the wine and add it to the pan. “Hey, don’t put
all of it in there. You aren’t the only one hoping to get lucky
tonight.”

I laugh, because the man doesn’t have to try.
He just has to breathe for me to want him. “There’s another bottle
in the wine cooler over there,” I tell him, pointing with my
spatula to the glass door under the counter.

“Perfect.”

After the garlic bread is done, I plate the
pasta and we take everything out to the deck without a word. The
shrimp are rubbery, and the pasta a little more al dente than I
intended, but Batty asks for seconds, anyway. I don’t make excuses
for my meal. I don’t tell him that it’s the first time I’ve ever
turned on my stove or used these plates. I don’t say a word and he
eats seconds. It causes a tightening in my chest that has only ever
happened at the hospital when a sick kid tells me they’re wildest
dream.

I put my hand there, over my heart and press
down with fingertips that are slightly chilled from the wind. Batty
wipes his mouth and smiles, with a small speck of spinach in his
teeth and I move without thinking, my fingers wrap around his chin
and move the speck away.

I blink slowly, like I’ve been in slow motion
and things go back to regular speed that looks too fast all of a
sudden. I stand and chug the rest of my wine. “Let’s go.” I hold my
hand out and it’s Batty’s turn to do the slow blink as he looks up
at me from his lounge chair. He puts his hand in mine and I pull
him to the stairs leading to the beach.

As we take our shoes off, Batty holds my eyes
then moves them to the waves illuminated by the lights on my porch.
I can see the question on his face, but I ask him first, “Have you
ever been skinny dipping, Finnigan Brennick?”

His eyebrows rise high on his forehead.
“Despite popular opinion, I wasn’t born a thirty-one year old music
mogul.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s a relief then.” I back up
and pull him with me into the cold sand. “Now get naked.”

“That’s something you don’t ever have to tell
me twice, darlin’. But are you sure about doing this in March? We
can get naked and take a shower, say we went into the ocean.”

“Oh come on,
sweetheart
.” I throw my
bra at him. “Are you going to make a liar out of me?” My pants are
next, then I’m jogging into the surf. I get up to my knees before
I’m swept off of my feet and into warm arms. I shriek loudly as my
hands go flying. Batty loses his footing and we both go down in a
heap into water shockingly cold.

I sit up, sputtering as another wave comes
over my head before receding just as fast. I look around me, my
hair clinging to me like a spider web, and finally spot Batty to my
right. I climb to my feet and grab for his bicep. “I’ll save you,
Batman! I’ve got you.” I tug and giggle. “I won’t let you drown.
Say something, my hero!”

I gasp for breath in between laughs as Batty
gets knocked down again and again by small waves. I know he does it
on purpose. “I need mouth to mouth. I don’t think I’m breathing,”
he says with a tug to my hand. I laugh loudly, barely able to see
anything but a silhouette in the dark as he faces the sea, but I
lean down as he sits up and I make contact with his eyes first.
When I try again, I get his chin. I can feel his laughter on my
cheeks and fall to my knees carefully.

With a swipe of my tongue, I ask, “Are you
breathing now?”

“It’s fucking cold as balls out here, woman.
We’ve dipped, I’m calling it.”

The man that kept getting knocked into the
ocean by small waves is suddenly throwing me over his shoulder as
he runs back to my house. The wine makes me dizzy and I yell for
him to put me down. Batty slaps my ass and squeezes as he takes the
stairs, so I slap his back since it’s right there.

My hair tries to wrap around Batty’s knees as
he jogs up the stairs and into my bathroom, so I raise my head as
much as possible. When he puts me back on my feet, I’m in the large
glass shower stall and pushed up against the wall before the blood
can flow back out of my head. Batty covers my chilled skin with his
as he twists his hand on the knob. In seconds, steam fills the
room, water raining down on us from the ceiling as he takes my
mouth.

One hand holds my jaw from beneath while the
other grabs a thigh. I wrap a calf around his ass and use it to
pull him into me. I grip his shoulders as my head spins. I can feel
his erection on my stomach and push my hips into him.

“Second date,” Batty whispers against my
lips. “Usually that’s second base, but I’m hoping for third.” Third
base? I suck at baseball euphemisms but I’m thinking that doesn’t
end with him fucking me. I’m about to protest when he sinks to his
knees. I groan in understanding.

I rake my fingers in his hair as he palms my
breasts, tweaking my nipples with just the right amount of pain to
mix with the pleasure. “I don’t want you to think I’m easy. If I
let you get to third will you ever respect me?” I pant.

Batty presses his mouth to my stomach as he
chuckles, before tonguing my belly button. He circles it lightly
while I melt into the tiles at my back, then plunges in and I can
practically feel the motion hit my core. “You have it, baby. Don’t
ever doubt that.”

He moves down and sucks the tender skin
between hip and pelvic bone. I shudder. I watch Batty look up at
me, those grey eyes the color of steel as he lightly rubs his chin
closer to where I need him to be. “Your sounds are my favorite
music, Sadie. Play me a song.”

When he opens his mouth over my lips and
sucks, I gasp and widen my legs. His hands move up the insides of
my legs, until he’s gripping the inside of my thighs. I can feel
ever fingertip as they grip me. I feel like it’s the only thing
keeping me standing. When he parts my folds and latches his mouth
on my clit, I cry out. The sound carries with the acoustics of the
room and Batty hums appreciatively.

I push harder into his mouth, so that my hips
and lower back are off of the wall. Batty adds a finger, then two,
and I know I’m close, but almost know it won’t happen for me like
this. Batty knows it too, he’s just drawing it out. Then he curls
his fingers and moves his hand rapidly over some magical place
that’s like my hidden pot of gold. I shriek, my body exploding
apart, my hair standing up, my skin covered in goose bumps. My
whole body spasms, my toes curl and I collapse, shattered. Batty
follows me down, licking and sucking the inside of my thighs as I
lay under the water.

I blink through the droplets of water on my
lashes when he rises above me. I grab his cock as it juts against
me and move my hand rapidly. He throws his head back on a moan, but
opens his eyes when he erupts on my stomach seconds later. I move
my hands to rub it against my skin, but the water quickly washes
the evidence away.

Batty helps me sit up and we catch our breath
with little smirks on our faces. “This dating stuff is fun,” I say
when I can speak again. Batty rolls his head as he laughs.

“With you, yes.”

“When’s the last time you had a girlfriend,
Finnigan?”

“Finn.”

“Finnigan.” I get a mock glare and an eye
roll.

“Years ago. I haven’t had time in my
life.”

“And you do now?” I ask.

“Nah,” he says on a sigh. When his eyes come
back to me, they look extremely tired. “Now I make time.” My heart
pounds with a mixture of panic and a strange hope.

Striving for levity, I push his shoulder,
making him rock to the side. “Oh, stop it. You’ll make a girl
blush, Finnigan.”

“Finn.”

“Batty.” He sighs.

“I would pay a lot of money to see you blush.
You’re so pale, I bet it would make you look like a lobster.”

“Hey!” I sit up and yell. Batty curls an arm
around my neck with a smile and kisses the side of my head before
he pushes me away again.

“JK, babe. JK.”

“JK?”

“Just kidding, isn’t that what the kids are
calling it these days?” I sigh.

“Oh, Batty.”

MONDAY

I yawn and grab the Starbucks cup from the
holder as I drive over another hill. Batty and I stayed up way too
late, but damn it was worth it. I shiver just thinking about it.
Now it’s insane o’clock in the morning and I’m driving to Los
Rancheros for Daniel’s part of the audition videos. Mine was filmed
at dusk to catch the sunset on the water. His is early because he
has a flight to catch in the afternoon.

The drive is straight north and about two
hours. He lives in some gated community that’s a bitch to get into,
even with a permission slip from the mister to enter. They even
search my car. By the time I get to his house, I’ve seen enough
farms to give me hives.

At Daniel’s personal gate, I get buzzed in
and have to sigh at the cows dotting his property. A country
singer, with cows. Shocker. I’m surprised I can’t smell them when I
step out of my car, but know I’m late. The door is open, with
people all around setting up lights and carrying cables around. I
dodge around until I see a familiar face.

“Fandy. Save me,” I say to get his attention.
The rocker turns with a smirk and gestures to the two story windows
showcasing a kids play set, barn and the cows I drove past to get
here.

“It’s enough to make you nauseous,
right?”

“Fuck yeah, it is. Who would live out
here?”

“Little ears!” I hear behind me and turn to
see Daniel walking with a little boy. “And Deklan lives down the
street, so it’s not just the hillbillies out here,” he explains,
referring to the lead singer of the same band that Fandy is in.

“Aw. There goes the neighborhood,” I joke and
Fandy laughs with a nod to his head in agreement.

“Sadie, this is Ollie. He’s three.” I lean
down on my leather spiked boots and hold a hand out to him.

“How you doin’, buddy?” He’s slow to take my
hand, but I barely notice because the similarities are
unmistakable. He’s a mini Daniel Walsh. “Well, there’s no denying
that one, is there?”

Daniel laughs and shakes his head. “Dude.
Long story.”

“Alright everyone, if we can get you on the
couch, we want to take some test shots.” Some producer with a
headset says, grabbing our attention. Ollie gets swept up by a
woman almost as tall as I am and they make their way upstairs.

I sink into the plush couch and moan. “Oh,
yeah. Hillbillies have comfy furniture.”

Daniel laughs—the guy is always laughing,
I’ve noticed. “It’s to sooth our bruised asses after a long day on
the trail, darlin’,” he says in a southern drawl. I point my finger
at him.

“That’s good shit. I bet that got you loads
of action, am I right?” Fandy turns to look over his shoulder and
leans closer. “Before the wife, of course.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. It still works on her
every time.”

We all laugh and the time flies after that.
The contestants are hit and miss. The song choices mostly
repetitive and there’s no alcohol in sight.

“You should have had a driver, Sadie. Way to
bring us all down,” Fandy says. I nod my head and sigh.

“I know. But I thought it was so early in the
morning, no way would I need it.” I wave to the flat screen hooked
up to the laptop on the coffee table. “I had no idea.”

“Next time, don’t drive yourself.” Fandy
holds out his tea glass to me and I clink mine to it.

“Noted.”

We spend hours upon hours scouring YouTube
for undiscovered talent. Some kids are in their bedrooms, backpacks
hanging on the door handles. Some are live performances in coffee
shops. Others actually have recording equipment.

“See this guy, he has all of the right
equipment. Why not add a beat to it?” Danny asks. He plays the
video again and leans forward to pound a beat with his hands on the
coffee table.

Fandy leans closer in excitement and pulls
out his phone to tap out a rhythm on an app that sounds like a
guitar. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, man. Add in some of this right
here.”

I just stand up and start dancing as cheesily
as I can. I move my fists to my chest and back over and over,
spinning in a circle as we all laugh. When the song gets to the
popular Oh oh ohs, we all lean our heads back and yell it out,
collapsing back on the couch to laugh. We might be slightly
delusional after five hours of this.

I sigh and giggle again after we’ve quieted
down. The video is done and it’s quiet. Fandy pockets his phone as
I stack my feet onto the coffee table on top of each other. Daniel
speaks first. “You know what I think?”

“I am not cow tipping anything, cowboy. I
don’t even know what that means.” Daniel pushes my shoulders.

“Call me Danny, both of you. And I was
thinking we should record some shit together.”

“What do you mean, like a band? I’ve got one
of those already,” Fandy points out. I raise my hand.

“Yeah and I just got out of mine. Besides
what would we call ourselves?”

We all look to the logo on the rug in front
of the TV and say in unison, “Triple Threat.”

“Nah,” Danny waves a hand. “Never mind. We
just seem to work well together.”

“Maybe we can write together, though. I bet
we can come up with some dope songs,” Fandy suggests. I nod.

“I would be down for that if you boys
are.”