Someone to Watch Over Me Read online

  “Yew tuttle.”

  Biting my lip, I looked apologetically to Tate. “I’m sorry. We can go now. Seriously. I’m done. I won’t laugh anymore. Swear.”

  “I would, but I think I’m lost. I’ve been driving haplessly since you started talking. And since you’ve only,” he flicked the gas gage with the tip of his finger, “a quarter tank, I can’t keep driving in circles acting like I know where I’m going.”

  “Appreciated.” I tapped the screen of my faithful GPS. “What’s the address?” We were stopping at his temporary residence so that he could shower and change. He was staying with Carter’s sister, I believe. She had a house with five bedrooms and a carriage house with another two. Enough rooms for the band and then some.

  “I don’t remember the house number. The street is Cold Spring Road. It’s in Buckingham.”

  “Close enough.”

  “You sure you don’t mind?”

  It was a little out of the way. Well, a lot out of the way, but he needed a fresh change of clothes. “It’s fine. As long as I can make it to work by six.”

  “You could call out.”

  “No, I really can’t.”

  “Are you sure? You could help me out with my issues.”

  “As tempting as that sounds, I still can’t call out. That would leave the other girls shorthanded. I’ve been there. It sucks. I can’t do that to them unless it’s a real emergency.”

  “Everyone needs a break once in awhile, Coop.”

  “It’s not just that. If I call out tonight and then Levy gets sick tomorrow, I’ll be screwed. I have to be careful with my time.”

  “If I begge—”

  “No.”

  “If I was sick?”

  “No!” I exclaimed, laughing.

  “Damn. I feel used. You invited me over just for sex, didn’t you?”

  “And the laundry,” I reminded him. “Especially the laundry.”

  Beside me, Tate laughed. It was a warm, comfortable sound. I tried not to dwell on it. No point in building castles in the air. He was probably flirty and at ease with everyone. Instead, I enjoyed the now. Since he was driving, I stared out the window, taking in the scenery.

  Chapter 5

  After stopping for gas, during which Tate took time to purchase a handful of Slim Jims, a pint of Red Bull and a king sized Hershey bar, we pulled onto Cold Spring Road. The house was an estate if I ever saw one. I’m talking manicured lawns and sprawling pastures filled with sleek thoroughbreds. Ok, maybe they weren’t thoroughbreds. I couldn’t tell the difference between a pony and a horse, but they were definitely sleek and stately, nothing like the nags at Mr. Craig’s farm. And the grass had those fancy lines in it that only professionals could master.

  The driveway was long. Flanked on either side by lengthy stretches of pristine white post and rail fencing. Massive white oaks stood sentinel in even pairs leading up to the main house.

  Currently, it was bustling with traffic. Cars and trucks, or should I say Jags and Beamers cluttered the turn-around. Others were parked between the rows of trees at the far end of the drive. Explaining the pile up, two large bouquets of primary colored balloons hovered at either side of the door. As well as the redwood arbor that led around to the back of the house.

  Tate did a loop around the circle, pulled to a stop by the stoop and beeped the horn. One of the many loiterers looked over, beamed a smile and trotted over, ducking along my window.

  “Twat!”

  “Dick.” Reaching across me, they locked hands.

  “What the hell is this?” Dick, if that was really his name, gestured to my car.

  “It’s Coop’s car. Just toying with it. Dick, this is Cooper. Cooper, Dick. He’s Carter’s brother in law, and the band’s attorney.”

  “Twat?” I asked, taking Dick’s hand. He clasped my hand firmly, accompanying it with a welcoming smile. He was handsome, in a fatherly sort of way, with thinning, mousy hair. His smile was large, with pointed cuspids that gleamed bleach white against his tan complexion.

  “Tate Watkins. Twat. Kind of like J-Lo or K-Stew, but better.”

  “Yeah, but his name’s really Dick.”

  “Richard,” Dick corrected.

  Tate grinned. “Dick.”

  “Dick!” Levy added with an angelic smile. I blushed ten shades of red. He was asleep. Or had been. I knew he’d be repeating that word persistently from here forward. Kids have a natural capacity for picking up words they should never repeat and then repeating them at the most untoward moments.

  “Oh dear,” said Richard, genuinely contrite. “Didn’t see him back there.”

  “That’s Mini Cooper,” Tate said in introduction.

  “Levy,” I explained. “My son.”

  “Sorry about that.” Leaning further into the car, he took a good look at Levy. “Did you come for the party? We have a moon bounce and a ball pit. And there’ll be pony rides later.”

  Interest piqued, Tate raised his brows. “A ball pit?”

  “I can’t,” I said impulsively, glaring at Tate. In one of the most humiliating displays of femininity, I ran a hand through my hair, and smoothed out my clothes.

  “What?” Tate asked, oblivious to the reason for my distress.

  “I just—” rolled out of bed, I almost said. But that would’ve sounded trashy. Though it was true. “I didn’t dress for this. I would’ve worn something nicer.”

  “You’re fine,” said Richard. “You’re dressed like most of the other kids here.”

  My lips pressed tightly together. God. I was officially white trash. He just called me a kid. I was a kid with a kid. I was the floozy that showed up on the arm of the rock star and crashed the party. This was so not happening.

  “I’m in,” said Tate, climbing out of the car. Tugging the back door open, he began unfastening Levy from his seat. “What do you say, Mini Cooper, wanna go in the ball pit?”

  “Baw pit?”

  “That’s right. The ball pit.” Giving his hands a sharp clap, he pulled Levy into his arms. “Come on Coop. We’re going in the ball pit.”

  “Mon Momma, in da baw pit!”

  Tate gave me that crooked smile from over his shoulder and took off running, Levy bouncing in his arms, squealing gleefully. With no other choice, I slid out of the car.

  “I’ll park it for you,” Richard assured. “Go on. Have fun.”

  Fun? I thought doubtfully, and started after Tate and my son. I was seriously regretting the Juicy pants and the white jersey tee. They were ok for the playground but an estate with a lawn set up for afternoon tea, they weren’t the ideal choice of garb. Ok, it wasn’t as formal as I expected. There was a great big red moon bounce and a coordinating mustard yellow ball pit, as well as a large white pavilion set up beside the in-ground pool. They had a barbeque going that smelled divine, and a game of horseshoes commencing along the back of the property.

  I found Tate by a table, chatting with his friends, swinging Levy by his ankles. Levy appeared unbothered by the detour, or the rush of blood to his head. I could hear him giggling from across the yard, his platinum hair fanning like a halo around his puce face.

  “That’s not a boy,” said some woman with long, silky brown hair. “He’s got longer hair than Gabi. And the color…I think I might actually be jealous.”

  “Thank you,” I said politely, reaching for Levy. Tate took a step backward, twisting so that Levy hung behind his back, just out of my reach.

  “Are you coming in the ball pit with us?”

  “Well, I wasn’t going in the ball pit. I was going to watch him from outside.”

  “Then you can stay here and shoot the breeze with Jess and the rest of the ladies.” Jess was the only girl at the table, but I grasped the intended insult thrown toward his band mates.

  “Tate—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll bring him back when his diaper needs changing.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “No one ever accused me of being selfish.”


  Once again, Tate ran off with Levy in tow. I watched with part distress, part amusement as he lifted him by the waist of his pants and reeled back to toss him in head first, but at the last second he stopped short and dropped him gently through the canvas flap, glancing in my direction with an errant smile. Toeing off his shoes, he dove in after him, growling and snarling like a fiend. The ball pit shook and shuddered. Through the netting, I could see balls flying left and right. Levy’s screams of delightful terror pierced the air.

  “I swear all men age backward in dog years,” Jess commented. “It’s the only way to explain the enigma of their maturity.”

  “That’s what makes us so lovable,” Carter replied. “We’re always kids at heart.” Shocking the hell out of me, he smiled congenially. “Have a seat Cooper, and tell us why you wear a dress suit five days a weeks when you’ve got lungs like Bessie Smith.”

  “Geez, Carter, a compliment?” I smiled back. “You must’ve had your sugar today.” I was once in awe of his talent, but he had burned that image away when he insulted my driving.

  “He scraped half the icing from Gabi’s birthday cake. So, yeah, he’s feeling just chipper today. Name’s Jess.” She extended her hand. I was surprised to find her hands rough. A working girl. “I’m Carter’s sister and Richard’s wife. I imagine you met him coming in.”

  “Yes, I did. Nice to meet you.” I could see the resemblance now that she pointed it out. She had the same curls as Carter. The same winsome smile. “So nobody really calls him Dick?”

  “Just Twat.” My smile widened on its own accord. She took a sip from her glass of tea. Tilted it in my direction. “Sit, sweetheart. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. I’m good.” I didn’t want to impose.

  “Nonsense. Jake, go get the girl a glass of tea.”

  “Me?” Jake objected, pointing a finger at his chest. He was the California boy with the sun-bleached hair. He played keyboards for the band. “You’re the hostess!”

  “Jake, you’re not a guest in my house. You’re a revolving resident. Now go get her a glass of tea or you can sleep in the bus tonight. Comprendes?”

  “There used to be a day when you hung on my every word,” Jake complained, vacating his chair. Jess winked, smiling over the rim of her glass. I realized a second later her focus was over my shoulder.

  “That was before I met Richard and all his money.”

  “And that money’s supposed to pay for your silence,” Richard scoffed, coming up behind me. “What good’s the arm candy if everyone knows it’s all a charade?”

  “Because you’re the only one I need to fool.”

  “Words of true love. Be still my heart.” After pressing a quick kiss to Jess’s cheek, he turned and dropped my keys into my hand. “Great first car.”

  “Thanks,” I said, though it was my second car. My first car was somewhere in California. We’d left it behind when I flew home. Dad sold it to another student on campus.

  “So Carter tells us you sing.”

  “On occasion.” I cringed inwardly. They were granting no mercy with their line of questioning. I wouldn’t call the twit stuff real singing, and up until last night, that’s all I sang.

  Sitting back in his chair, Carter spoke up. “She’s being modest.”

  “I only do it for the extra cash,” I said in dismissal. “Once, twice a week during intermissions. And I don’t make much at all. It’s no big deal. Really.”

  “You’re getting paid,” Shane observed. He was the drummer with the bottle black hair. “That’s something. Most musicians don’t make anything at the start of their career.”

  Carter’s gaze flickered toward his friend, the corner of his mouth crooking derisively. “That’s why Tate and I handle the negotiations for the band. If you were in charge, we’d all still be playing for drinks.”

  They exchanged a friendly fire of flip-offs before Carter turned his attention back to me. Much to my disappointment. “I still say you’re selling yourself short. You’ve done enough intermissions that you have your own following. You should have your own gig.”

  “He’s right,” Richard agreed. “If you’re as good as he says, your boss might be waiting for you to step up. Take the initiative.”

  “More like he’s milking the cow,” Carter voiced. “While you’re on stage, he sets up a tip jar at the bar with your name on it. I can guarantee that what he’s paying you is only half what he collects.”

  Well damn, I didn’t know that. No one ever said a word to me about a tip jar. Not even Marshall.

  “Do you have a contract, anything in writing?” Richard asked. “I can take a look at it if you want.”

  “No, it was just a verbal agreement.”

  “If you’re interested I could draw something up.”

  “No, but thanks. If I went in there with a contract now, I might just lose my job. Billy’s not one for negotiating. He’s more of a there’s-the-door kind of guy. I know from experience.”

  “You have a day job,” Carter pointed out. “Tell ‘Billy’ to go fuck himself.”

  “Carter,” Jess intervened. At least someone had the sense to halt the interrogation. I could feel the muscles in my jaw relax. I wasn’t looking to pursue a career in music. It just wasn’t in the cards. I had a child now. “Watch the language. This is a children’s party.”

  Language? So much for the intervention.

  “He’s right, honey. If you want to make money in music, you can’t be a pushover. Don’t be modest about your talent. Stand firm. Don’t settle until you’re happy with the terms.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the advice. Really. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “We’re trying to help you here,” Carter pressed. “Why’re you blowing us off?”

  Dropping my head, I pinched the bridge of my nose, said a silent prayer for either a savior or a whole lot of patience. While I didn’t mind sharing my past with Tate or others when it was necessary, I didn’t blather about it needlessly. Nor did I feel like explaining my finances to a bunch of strangers that had no idea of what it was like to walk a day in my shoes.

  Answering my appeal, Tate slid his hand along the nape of my neck. I could do little to hide the relief that flitted across my face when I looked up at him.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We were just talking. Where’s Levy?” I asked, panning the immediate area, secretly thankful for his absence. It allowed for a temporary distraction and a change of subject. While I was thankful for his immaculate timing, I could see the concern in his eyes, and the last thing I wanted was to come between him and his friends because he felt the need to defend me.

  “Gabi and her friends are in the ball pit cooing over him.”

  “I should go keep an eye on him.”

  “He’s fine,” he assured, turning his attention to Jess. “Did Coop tell you she rides? She lives above a stable.”

  My mouth popped open but Carter was the first to speak, beating me to the draw. “Are you going to deny that too? You’re probably a grand prix equestrian, but it’s no big deal, right?”

  Having heard enough, Jess rose from her chair. “Why don’t I take you to see the barn and show you the horses, Coop? I have to get the pony saddled for the kids anyhow.”

  “Levy—”

  “Gabi will keep him busy, and Richard will be right here.” Confident that I would follow, she turned and started across the lawn. “Besides, I could really use the help catching Freckles from the pasture. He’s a sweetheart, but he’s a real escape artist. And I’m afraid he’s long since seen through bribes of apples and carrots.”

  I knew what they were doing, and I didn’t like it one bit, but I didn’t want to make a scene so I went along quietly. Nevertheless, walking away left a bitter taste in my mouth. I was about to become public knowledge. And for what reason? None. Because nothing would come of it except looks of pity and awkward conversation, which was why it was a need to know basis.

 
“So how long have you been riding?”

  Looking up from the grass, I found Jess slowing her pace until I walked at her side. I unfolded my arms from my chest, dropping the unintentional gesture of hostility.

  “I could count the number of times on one hand, and I wouldn’t call it riding. It’s more like sitting on the horse while he goes where he wants.”

  “Where do you ride?”

  “Usually into trees with low branches and bushes with thorns, or the occasional stream. The horse I ride, his name is Barrel. I used to think it was because of his shape, but now I think it’s his Modus Operandi for unseating his rider, mainly me.”

  Laughing, Jess looped her arm around mine and patted my shoulder. “We’ll have to see if we can remedy that. Make Tate bring you back. I’ll give you a lesson or two.”

  I smiled and nodded, despite thinking Tate and I wouldn’t be seeing each other much longer. I had expected a quick fling and he would go on his merry old way, but things were getting complicated. Really complicated. Family functions weren’t part of the plan.

  “Don’t be angry with him. He means well.”

  “Carter?” What was I supposed to say? He was her brother. It wasn’t as if I could tell her what I really thought about him. “I’m sure he does, but he’s wrong. I wasn’t blowing anyone off. I just don’t have the option to follow your advice. My life’s a little complicated right now.”

  “I meant Tate, actually. I just don’t want you to be angry with him for wanting to speak with the guys alone. I’m sure he was sparing you the discomfort of watching them argue.”

  “Oh.” Didn’t I feel transparent. I might as well have flat out admitted that I thought Carter, her brother, was an ass.

  “I know you don’t know me, Coop, but if you need to talk to anyone…”

  “Oh…I…uh…”

  “It was an offer, Coop. You don’t have to.”

  Because I really didn’t want to recite the story again, I accepted her reprieve. Richard would divulge what Tate told him in any case. By then I would be long gone, so I left it at that.

  Freckles, I found, was all white with a speckling of brown freckles across his coat. He was short and round with a fluff of white mane and tail that bounced animatedly with his gait.