Here With You (A Laurel Heights Novel)

chapter Two



"I can't believe you're leaving me. You just got here."

"Liar." Grif smiled at his friend KT as he stuffed a pair of jeans into his duffle bag. "You hate having people around. When I showed up on your doorstep, you barely resisted the urge to slam the door in my face."

"Well, I can't deny that. Especially when it's a man with a bag and his guitar." She lounged across her guest room's bed. KT lived like a hermit in the mother-in-law unit of her parents' palatial home. They'd met at a party years ago, after his first hit single Lost. KT had been hiding behind a huge potted plant, looking miserable, and they'd ended up in the music room with her critiquing Lost.

"Remember how you told me you never dated musicians?" He yanked a shirt out from under her. "I'd like to point out that I ended up in your bed."

"My guest bed." She kicked him half-heartedly. "I still don't fraternize with musicians. They're all crazy."

"Yourself included?"

She held two fingers up. "I cannot tell a lie."

Grif smiled. KT was unique, with her own set of quirks, but she was the most talented songwriter he'd ever met. She only wrote for other people and never sang in front of anyone, but that first night they'd met she'd had one too many shots of whiskey and had broken her rule. Angels coveted her voice. He'd asked her once why she wouldn't sing more, but she'd told him to buzz off in less polite terms.

He looked around the room to make sure he remembered everything. His guitar, Tallulah, waited for him by the door. He hadn't opened her case since the last night of the tour he'd just ended. That was three months. He missed her, but at the same time he had no desire to touch her.

"There's this." KT held up his necklace.

"Thanks." He took the leather chain and slipped it over his head.

"How metrosexual of you." His friend smirked at him.

He didn't bother to reply. He wore it because it gave him a place to hang the arrowhead Nicole had given him before he'd set out to make a name for himself. As he'd packed up his car, she'd hugged him, slipped it into his hand, and whispered, "For protection, and to think of me."

KT stretched her long body, hugging a pillow to her. "So tell me about this woman you love."

"It's not like that," he said as he zipped up his bag and set it next to his guitar case. "We've been best friends since junior high."

"It's like that, especially if you're hiding out from your entourage to hang out with her on the sly."

"I told you why I'm hanging out with her."

"To reawaken your muse." She made crazy eyes at him. "Stay with me and I'll bitch-slap your muse awake."

"Thanks for the offer," he replied dryly.

"What are friends for?" She sat up, the pillow still in her lap. "Really. I want to know what the woman who brings the great Griffin Chase to his knees is like."

Nicole was stunning.

It'd hit him right in the middle of his chest when he saw her. Luminous, with her glowing skin and dark shiny hair that trailed over her creamy shoulders.

In retrospect, he guessed he assumed he'd find the same girl he'd left. Pretty and popular Nicole: the smart and funny girl with the ever-ready laugh. The girl everyone loved because she always made a person feel better than he really was.

She was still all that, but with an added layer of complexity.

She was sexy.

Last night she'd worn a flirty dress that left her shoulders bare and knee-high red boots that made him want to strip that dress off and see her in nothing but the footwear. Her voice was even different than it had been years before—deeper, nuanced, and mysterious.

But her eyes got him the most. Her eyes showed the way to heaven.

"Well?" KT prodded him.

It wasn't supposed to be this complicated. He shook his head. "There aren't words to describe her."

"You're such a goner."

"I'm telling you, it's not like that. Look at us. I've stayed friends only with you."

"That's because we're like siblings, and incest grosses both of us out." She gave him a knowing look. "Don't tell me you've never kissed Nicole."

"Kiss" didn't begin to describe it. It'd been more like a wake-up call. He started to get turned on just thinking about the softness of her lips on his. He hadn't meant to do it—it'd been a heat-of-the-moment sort of thing—and now he couldn't get it out of his head.

He wanted to do it again. He wanted to kiss more than just her lips.

"I rest my case," KT said smugly.

He raked a hand through his hair. "I couldn't help myself. I just leaned down and went for it. I'm surprised she didn't slap me, and I can't believe she didn't tell me to take a hike."

"She loves you, too."

"Nine years ago, I left her and never called. She should hate me."

KT shrugged. "Love is a strange emotion."

"Love is overstating it."

"There are all sorts of love. It morphs and changes." She got up and patted his shoulder. "I hope in this case it morphs into what you want."

That was the thing: he didn't know what that was. He'd come back because he had this damn album to write and he'd lost his motivation. He'd closed his last tour date with Lost and had thought of Nicole, like he always did when he played that song, since it was about her. He'd walked off the stage, almost oblivious to the applause as he remembered how excited he'd been to write music back when he'd known her.

Somewhere along the way he'd lost that excitement.

He wasn't used to not knowing what he wanted. He was tired. He'd been on autopilot and couldn't remember what passion felt like.

Nicole had always been passionate about everything she did: drawing, dancing, reading... even babysitting. Her focus changed like the wind, but then that was her charm. Her enthusiasm had been infectious. Around her, life had been bright and inspiring.

He missed her. Obstructing her from his life had been the biggest mistake he'd ever made.

It'd been a crazy idea to track her down and—basically—accost her, but he'd been desperate. He was lucky she'd agreed. He knew he didn't deserve it. He'd just have to make sure he was worthy of her friendship this time.

KT patted his shoulder again. "You better suck up to her big time. Take her flowers or something."

"You think flowers would help?"

"Hell if I know." She tossed the pillow aside. "My sister gets squeally when her beaus send her stuff like that. It's a woman thing, right?"

"Aren't you a woman?"

She recoiled as if he'd insulted her. "Please."

Laughing, he half hugged her. "Thanks for letting me crash in your sanctuary. Thanks for being my friend."

She snorted but hugged him back. "Don't think this gives you an open door back when Nicole kicks you out."

Nicole wouldn't kick him out. He was going to make sure of it, and he wasn't going to question why it seemed do-or-die.

He loaded his few belongings into his vintage Chevy and then headed to the address Nicole had given him of the store where she worked. According to his GPS, it was a short trip. KT lived on the upper edge of the neighborhood.

Miraculously, he found a spot big enough to park his car. As he maneuvered into it, his phone rang with "Eye of the Tiger."

His manager's special ringtone. Grif knew exactly what Roddy would say. Where are you? Don't you know you have to tell me how to locate you? Are you writing? When the hell are you coming back? Roddy Gallagher was a shark, but he was predictable.

Grif silenced the phone and got out of the car. Later he'd talk to Roddy. Now he had to focus.

As he pulled up the address Nicole had texted him, he spotted a florist on the map.

He paused. Take KT's advice to heart? She wasn't a normal woman—she preferred spending time with her piano over any human, himself and her sister Bijou excepted. But she'd said Bijou loved flowers, and he couldn't think of a girlier girl than Bijou Taylor.

Flowers couldn't hurt. He headed to the shop, which was only a couple blocks away.

"Back to the Fuchsia," he read out loud as he approached. Cute. The door was open, and the space was inviting.

A thin brunette came out from behind a worktable as he walked in. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like"—he took off his sunglasses and surveyed all the colors, sizes, and shapes of flowers before pointing to pink ones in the corner—"those."

"Decisive."

"They look happy and cheerful." Just like Nic.

The woman plucked a bunch from the basket and inspected them. "You want anything else bundled in with the gerbera daisies? Some purple misties or miniature roses?"

"Just the pink flowers." Nicole was a simple woman. At least she used to be.

Not that it was apparent from the kiss last night. That kiss had been complicated. Hot. She'd been pliant and willing and warm in his arms. For him—he didn't have to question whether she kissed him for himself or because he was Griffin Chase, rock star.

In fact, she hadn't really wanted to kiss him. Her body may have been willing, but he could tell her mind knew enough to hold back.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the present.

The flower shop lady stood gawking at him. "You look just like Griffin Chase, but you couldn't be, because what are the chances?"

Damn—he should have worn the hat. He pulled out his wallet. "Pretty high, actually."

"You're saying you're the pop singer?"

He frowned. "I prefer calling my music crossover hits."

"Griffin Chase, who did Lost?"

"Your laughter lights my way in the dark/Saving me, at any cost/From being lost," he sang. Those were his favorite lines. They reminded him most of Nicole.

The flower shop lady pointed at him, eyes narrowed. "You cannot hang out here. One celebrity is enough. And if you're high maintenance, you might as well buy your flowers somewhere else."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I have no intention of hanging out here. I just needed some flowers."

She didn't look like she believed him, but at least she wrapped up the flowers and carried them to the front counter.

"Those are pretty." He nodded at the bouquet as he handed money over. "She'll like them. Thank you."

The woman grunted and rang him up. "Thank me by buying more flowers."

"Okay."

She stopped what she was doing and gave him a disbelieving look.

"What's your name?" he asked, amused.

"Julie," she replied slowly.

"Julie, you're right. My friend deserves more than this. Can you send her a bunch of flowers every day?"

"Every day?" She goggled at him. "Her place will look like a funeral home. Unless she loves flowers?"

"I don't know." Nicole used to love fruit roll-ups and romance novels. He had no idea what she liked now. He'd have to find out. "Let's do every other day. If she hates it I'll cancel the order."

Julie handed over his change. "And I won't alert The Enquirer or anything."

"Deal. Send them to her work. You can charge my card." He gave her the information Nicole had given him. "Thank you, Julie."

She shook her head. As he walked out, he heard her mutter "Kooky celebrities."

Smart woman. Saluting her, he left the store and headed to Romantic Notions and Nicole.

Even if the name didn't give it away, he could tell from the storefront that it was over-the-top feminine. Fortunately, he'd never been the type of guy to shy away from women's underthings.

A soft bell chimed as he entered, the scent of vanilla tickling his senses. He stood in the doorway and looked around at all the lace and satin. Then he saw Nicole, standing next to a dresser, something frilly and red in her hand. She stared wide-eyed at him as though she hadn't expected to see him again.

Trying not to the think about her underwear and if she wore what she sold, he held out the bundle of flowers. "I got these for you."

Setting the lingerie down, she cautiously approached him. She accepted the pink bouquet, eyeing them like they might be poison. "What's the occasion?"

"Because you're being a good friend and I thought you'd like them." He frowned. "Do you like them?"

"They're beautiful," she said, looking confused. "I love flowers."

"I know you must get them all the time—"

"No." She shook her head.

"Your boyfriend doesn't give you flowers?" Not so subtle, but it'd been on his mind. His mom had told him Nicole was seeing someone. He told himself he was just curious, and that he didn't want his staying with her to cause friction.

Well, truthfully, he wanted her all to himself. It was selfish, but accurate.

Her brow furrowed. "My boyfriend and I broke up, but, no, he didn't give me flowers."

"He must have been an ass."

The corners of her mouth quirked. "Maybe."

He stuck his hands in his pockets. "I have my stuff in the car."

She set the lingerie down and held out a key. "My roommate has been out of town for work, but she comes back late tonight. I told her you're couch surfing for a few days, but if she can't take it, you're out."

"Got it." He took the keys.

"You can walk there. It's close." She bit her lip. "I have to work late, and then I have dinner with a friend, so you're on your own."

"Okay."

She looked like she was going to say something else, but then she just smiled gently. "We'll reawaken your passion for music, Grif. Trust me."

Oddly, he did. He already felt better than he had in months, maybe years.