Shaken Not Stirred (Mixology) (26 page)

“I don’t think anything is open. Want to
drive around?”

“Yeah. Okay.” I hadn’t done that since high
school.

Settled in his car, I tried to stay calm. It
was just hanging out—nothing to get bent out of shape about. We sat
in silence, and I needed to break it.

“So, how long have you been playing
guitar?”

“Since I was eight. It’s pretty much my
life.”

“That’s awesome. I love your music.”

“Yeah?” He took his eyes off the road to
smile at me. “That’s cool.”

“Where do you come up with your ideas? Do you
write the words first or the music?”

He put a hand behind my seat. “Oh. I don’t
even write my own lyrics anymore. I kind of suck at it.”

“What?”

“I actually lucked out. I met a guy around
here who loves writing but hates performing and doesn’t play much.
He gives me notebooks of lyrics, and I write songs. I think he just
likes that the words are out there. You know? I get that. I totally
get that.”

“Who is it?” I gripped the oh-my-god bar.
“Who writes your lyrics?”

“His name’s Colin. He hangs out at the Grille
sometimes.”

“Stop the car!”

“What?”

“We’re only a few blocks from my place. Stop
the car!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. STOP THE CAR!”

It was like one of those eighties movies. The
fist pumping music started, and I had to get to Colin. I barely
waited for the car to stop before I busted out and started running
home. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so
blind? All along those lyrics had been Colin’s? I’d felt such an
intense connection to him and didn’t even know it. Were any of
those songs written for me? Colin was right, he did know me. I was
starting to wonder if he knew me even better than I knew
myself.

***

“If one needed to extend their credit limit
quickly, how would they do it?” I slumped down on Macon’s bed while
he played some game on his computer.

“Well, it depends what one needs the money
for.”

“Why? You don’t have to tell the credit card
company that.”

“No, but you could tell your friend.” He spun
around in his chair to look at me.

“I messed up so bad, Macon. I don’t know how
I let this happen.” That’s when the tears started. I’d kept them in
the whole time, but I couldn’t anymore. “It was his lyrics. They
were his lyrics.”

“Wait. Whose?”

“Colin’s! Colin wrote all the lyrics for
Lyle’s songs!”

Macon burst out laughing. “No fucking
way!”

“Yes, way. I need to see him.” I buried my
face in my hands. “I was already missing him like crazy, and now
this? Things with us might not be perfect, but I need to try. I
shouldn’t have just given up.”

“Finally she gets it. Relationships take
work. Didn’t you say he offered to quit his job for you?”

I nodded.

“That’s extreme, but find a compromise. No
more wasting time finding yourself. That’s bullshit, and you know
it.”

“I know. I just didn’t think he really got
me.”

“You thought wrong.”

“Real helpful.” I stared down at my
hands.

I waited for Macon’s comforting arms, but
they didn’t come. Instead I heard typing. I looked up.

“Try this for helpful. Your credit’s
extended.” Macon gestured for me to join him at his computer. “When
do you want to leave?”

“Now would be great.”

He smiled. “How about I book you a flight for
first thing tomorrow morning?”

“That works too.” I sat down on the edge of
the desk. “But you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

“Because if I was ever broke and needed to
see the love of my life in another country, I’d hope you’d buy the
ticket for me.”

I gave him a huge hug. “Oh my god, Macon.
You’re amazing.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t
already know.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“Let’s get real. It’s Colin we’re talking
about. How long do you think he’ll wait before he sends me a
check?”

I laughed. “I guess it depends on whether he
wants me back.”

“He wants you back.”

“How do you know?”

He typed in my name and birthday so he could
purchase the ticket. “Because you can’t be that easy to get over,
and because the guy’s in love with you.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Me too. I don’t want to have to buy you a
ticket home tomorrow.”

I pushed his arm. “Don’t make me doubt
this.”

“I won’t. I already thought you should make
things work. Now you finally have your proof. Only you, Maddy. Only
you.”

“I can do this.”

“Yeah, you can. But one small detail.” He
forwarded me the email confirmation.

“What’s that?”

“I take it you want to surprise him?”

“Yes. That’s the plan.”

“So how are you going to find out where he’s
staying?”

“Oh. I guess I could call Gabriel. I still
have his number.”

“Skeevy boss guy?”

“Yeah…

Macon leaned back in his desk chair. “Have
fun with that.”

“It’s worth it.”

I pulled out my phone and called Gabriel,
glad I had his number.

He picked up on the first ring. “Maddy?” It
wasn’t until I heard his groggy voice that I realized it was one
a.m.

“Hi. Sorry about the time. I just need
Colin’s address in Paris.”

“Missing him too?”

“Too?”

“I chatted with him this afternoon.”

“Oh. Does he sound okay?”

“He’d be better if he wasn’t picturing you
with other men.”

“Well, I made a mistake.”

“Oh?” Gabriel’s voice rose slightly.

“I need his address so I can surprise
him.”

I could almost hear him smiling through the
phone.

“I have it at the office. What’s your
email?”

I spelled it out for him.

“Okay, I’ll get it to you first thing
tomorrow.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Of course. But Maddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of him.”

“I will.” I hung up the phone. It was time to
pack.

I checked the number on the door one more
time before knocking. I knew I looked like hell from the flight and
jet lag, but I didn’t care. My heart beat a mile a minute.

“Bonjour?” a woman in a robe answered the
door.

I wanted to vomit. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Puis-je vous aider?”

“Uh. Forget it.” Another lesson learned: make
sure to study up on basic phrases before visiting a foreign
country.

The woman gave me another look before closing
the door. I slid down to the floor in the hall. Now what? Could I
call Macon for a ticket home? Had Colin really moved on that
fast?

I closed my eyes, and let myself wallow in
self-pity for a few minutes. At least I wasn’t sitting outside in
the rain.

“Maddy?”

I opened my eyes to see Colin kneeling down
in front of me.

“Hi.”

“You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

I barely registered what was happening before
he had me in his arms and was pushing open the door—number six, not
eight.

“Gabriel gave me the wrong number. You’re not
with that woman?” I pointed to number eight.

“What? I already told you I don’t want anyone
else.”

He didn’t stop moving until we were on his
bed. His really small bed. “I’m going to assume that you didn’t fly
this far to remind me why we shouldn’t be together?”

“No. I didn’t.” I locked eyes with him. “I
came to tell you that I love you.”

His eyes lit up. “I can’t tell you how happy
I am to hear that.”

“And I know about your lyrics. I know about
the songs you write.”

He smiled. “Someone told you my little
secret?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

“I do.”

He smiled. “Okay. I write song lyrics.”

“I love them.” I wanted to tell him how they
got me in a place I didn’t think music could, and that he was right
about how connected we were, but words weren’t what we needed.

“And I love you.” His lips met mine while his
arms wrapped around me. My exhaustion melted away as soon as his
tongue pushed its way into my mouth, and his hand made its way
under my sweater. “Damn, I’ve missed you.” His lips left mine long
enough to pull my sweater over my head.

“I’ve missed you too. So much.” I unbuttoned
his pink dress shirt, quickly discarding it. He got to his t-shirt
before I could.

My hands moved down his chest on their own
volition—at least it felt that way. It also felt that way when I
took off his pants seconds later. He did the same with mine.

He moved so quickly with my bra that he
ripped the lace. Yes, I’d flown that far in a lace bra—I wanted to
be prepared.

He hesitated with a finger underneath the
edge of my panties. “You’re really here, right? This isn’t some
dream I’m going to wake up from feeling like crap?”

“Have you had a lot of those dreams?”

“A few.”

“It’s not a dream.” I urged his hand down to
remove the lacy fabric while I got rid of his briefs. I needed his
naked body against mine.

“Can you prove it?”

“Prove it’s not a dream?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s only one way I know how to do
that.”

I climbed on top of him, knowing that neither
of us had any need or desire for foreplay. “I’m hoping this is
going to be better than your imagination.”

“I like that line of thinking—”

He didn’t finish the sentence as I guided him
in.

We watched one another like we were looking
at each other for the first time. His hands gripped my hips, and I
enjoyed every sensation. Maybe it was the two weeks apart—or the
fact that I now knew the truth about his songs, but that night was
like magic. Nothing else existed as we moved together
perfectly.

He rolled me over, kissing my neck in just
the right spot as he introduced me to a new level of completeness.
One that was equal parts emotion and physical satisfaction. It was
as though we both took down invisible walls.

Afterward, we cuddled until we fell asleep.
Other than a few essential trips for basic human necessities, we
didn’t leave his bed until three in the afternoon. Colin took the
entire day off work and didn’t touch his phone after calling in his
day off.

We ordered in room service—a nice benefit of
living in a hotel, and we didn’t venture out until it was almost
dinnertime.

“What should we get to drink?” he asked,
holding both of my hands over the bar.

“I don’t know. Do you want a gin and tonic or
something? Or just beer?”

He looked at me funny. “I’d rather have a
different drink.”

“Aren’t they your favorite?”

He looked down. “No.”

“What? Why’d you make it seem like they
were?”

“You seemed so proud of yourself. I couldn’t
destroy that.”

“So what do you like?”

“I really like Manhattans.”

“Seriously?” My chest tightened.

“Yeah.”

I’d been right. The Manhattan was perfect—I’d
just made it for the wrong guy. I reached over and grabbed Colin’s
face, pushing it into mine. If he was surprised by my sudden attack
on his face, he didn’t show it, and moments later, I was in his
lap.

The bartender shouted something in French.
The only word I understood was “brothel.” We took that as our cue
to leave.

We walked back to the hotel hand in hand, and
I watched the setting sun. I’d been wrong about so many things that
year. I was wrong about drinks, about Lyle, about Colin, and most
importantly, me.

Mixing the perfect drink is kind of like
finding the perfect guy: It’s all about the taste and presentation.
Who would have thought that I’d like mine in a suit and tasting a
whole lot like cinnamon?

Keep reading for a preview of
The Hazards
of Skinny Dipping
, a New Adult Romantic Comedy by Alyssa Rose
Ivy. For more information about Alyssa Rose Ivy’s books, please
visit her online at:

www.AlyssaRoseIvy.com

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By Alyssa Rose Ivy

Prologue

Skinny dipping was the last thing on my list.
Of the five items, it was the hardest one for me. It wasn’t a
bucket list or anything like that—I wasn’t thinking about death. It
was a things-to-do-before-college list my cousin, Amy, made for
me.