Take Me Home Tonight (4 page)

All the things his mom liked in an omelet.

After a moment of tension, his dad's disappointment palpable, Calix stepped toward him and grabbed some of the vegetables. “This is great, Dad.” He set them down.

His dad held Calix's gaze, heavy with the question,
She coming in?

He hated to let him down, but what could he say? He gave a slight shake of his head. With a pained look of defeat, his dad let out a breath and turned to Mimi.

“Hey.” He stuck out his hand. “Terrence Bourbon.”

“Hi. Mimi Romano. I hope you don't mind me commandeering your kitchen.”

“Not one bit. Calix says you're friends with Blue Fire?”

“She cooks for them.” Calix pulled another skillet off the rack, set a low flame under it.

“The band has a chef?” His dad seemed surprised.

“Before you start imagining limos and private jets,” Mimi said, “they only hired me as a favor.”

“A lot of people coming and going, crazy hours,” Calix said. “They need the help.”

“True, but I'm not some trained chef. Although—ha!—believe it or not, I just got a gig on the
Verna Bloom Show
.”

Leaning into the fridge to grab the butter, Calix shot her a look over his shoulder. She was leaving them?

“Are you serious?” Lee asked.

Mimi's smile lit up the room. “You know it?”

“Duh,” Lee said. “Who doesn't?”

“She's running a five-week cooking competition, and the winner gets to apprentice with her next season. Somehow I have to pull off being an actual chef.”

“What kind of competition?” his dad asked.

“It's like that show
Chopped
. They give you four random ingredients, and then you get thirty minutes to make something out of it.”

“What about seasonings, oil, flour, stuff like that?” Terrence asked.

“We've got access to Verna's pantry and refrigerator.”

“But you're not a chef?” Terrence asked.

“I'm not.”

“You cook for the band,” Calix said.

“I make the food I'm familiar with—my nonna's meatballs, my dad's fettuccine—but basically, I follow recipes, you know? I don't know what flavors work well
together, the chemistry of cooking, important stuff like that. And the show starts in a week, so I've got a ton of research to do.”

“What kind of research you got planned?” Terrence asked.

“I'll watch
Chopped
to see how the contestants work with what they're given, and then I'll get some cookbooks, learn about measuring and different techniques, cooking times and temperatures. You know, basic stuff like that.”

“More recipes, huh?” Lee said with a teasing smile.

Terrence gave Calix a chin nod. “Calix can help you out.”

He shot his dad a hard look.
What the hell?

Mimi must've seen it, because she laughed. “That's okay. I've got it.”

“No, seriously, Meems,” Lee said. “Calix is a great cook.”

“
Cook
.” He gave her a quelling look. “Not a chef.”

“You guys, he's got enough on his plate with the band.” Mimi waved her hand, as if to dismiss the whole idea. “Dak's driving them nuts with his crazy schedule.”

“Oh, my God, let him,” Lee said. “I mean, watching shows and reading cookbooks is great, but there's nothing like a teacher. And trust me, we were homeschooled, so
everything
was a learning experience. Cooking was basically our science lab. But Calix took it to a whole other level. He's just, I don't know, intuitive in the kitchen.”

As Lee continued to talk to Mimi, Terrence joined him at the stove. “Want this girl in our house.”

With a hunch of his shoulders, he gave his dad a look that said,
Why?

“My bet, you give that girl lessons right here in our kitchen, your ma's gonna get involved.”

Calix's hand on the knife stilled. His mom kept strange hours. Insomnia had her sleeping till noon most days. Then, she'd head out for a walk along the beach, regardless of the weather. Since she avoided family meals, she could be counted on to sneak into the kitchen around three, grab a yogurt from the fridge or a granola bar from the pantry, and then hide out in her studio.

The heart of her home didn't beat anymore.

So for three years, he'd tried to get his family to sit down
to dinner in the hopes it'd draw her out. It hadn't. Nothing had. But giving Mimi cooking lessons in his mom's kitchen . . . would that work?

“You got time tomorrow?” his dad asked.

Mimi whipped around toward him, startled out of her conversation. “What? No, seriously. You don't have to do that.”

He knew Mimi's schedule. Knew she had time between meals. He supposed he could give it a shot. “Be here at two?”

“Calix, I—”

“Two.”

“But you have to be in the studio.”

Why was she fighting him on this? “Only in the morning.”

“You already know that?”

He gave her a hard look, hoping to end the conversation. “He's laying down vocals with Slater in the afternoon.”

She bit down on that lush bottom lip, brow tight with concern. “You really don't have—”

“You gonna be here at two?”

A wash of pink covered her clear, smooth complexion. “Okay, sure. Thank you.”

Focusing on his mom's dinner, Calix lifted the pan from the flame, shoved the spatula under the omelet, and flipped it. The three of them continued to talk, and Calix couldn't help glancing toward Mimi, who stood with her hip against the counter, one bare foot on top of the other. He did a double-take on her toenails. Tomato red with . . . yellow smiley faces?

In the club tonight, packed with rockers, she'd looked like a businesswoman. He'd had no idea underneath her tight skirt and silk blouse, she had . . . color. Personality. Made him wonder what kind of lingerie she wore.

A flash of Mimi on her back, that deep red mane of hair spread across his pillow, grabbed him by the balls and squeezed.

Oh, hell, no.
He shook his head free of the image and grabbed the skillet with sautéed onions and peppers. He spooned the mixture on top of the omelet.

“I think I figured out why there's so little in your fridge,”
Mimi said. “You guys live off the land. Are you, like, Amish or something?”

Lee laughed. “Not at
all
.”

“Okay, but all this fresh stuff, I think it would give me a heart attack if I tried to eat it.”

“Don't like vegetables?” his dad asked.

“Can't stand them. Total carnivore. Some days I'm just not human until I bite into a thick, juicy steak. I swear, in the zombie apocalypse, I'll have no problem eating the brains of my neighbors.”

His dad burst out laughing, and Calix felt a pain lance through his heart. This laughter. If only his mom could be part of this.

“Give me a week,” his dad said. “I'll bring you over to our side.”

“Like my mom didn't try to get me to eat broccoli? Are you kidding? I remember this one time she pulled the whole
You're not getting up from this table until you eat your broccoli
thing.” She pretended to gag. “I mean, seriously, the first person to look at asparagus and think about putting it in his mouth had to have done it on a dare.” More gagging faces. “Brussels sprouts? Are you kidding me? Did cavemen try eating rocks, too? Fistfuls of sand? Just because it grows in nature doesn't mean we're meant to eat it. Anyway, I'm stuck at the table, and I'm telling you nothing short of waterboarding would've gotten that stalk in my mouth. But then my mom had some meeting to get to, and my housekeeper tossed me a Twinkie and let me go. And that was the end of the
Let's get Mimi to eat her vegetables
saga.”

His dad looked at Mimi with concern. “You an only child?”

Mimi nodded, some of her enthusiasm waning. “Which, of course, meant a lot of broccoli to eat by myself.”

“It's all in the preparation,” his dad said. “Tell you what. I'll bring some vegetables by the house tomorrow. Give you some tips for cooking with them.”

“That would be awesome. Thank you. Just . . . no hurt feelings when I spit them out in a napkin, okay?”

His dad's laughter filled the kitchen, and Calix couldn't keep the smile off his face.

Maybe it would work. Maybe Mimi would draw his mom back into the kitchen. He grabbed the plate. “I'm gonna get this to Mom.”

Calix headed down the hall to the guest bedroom. Footsteps had him whipping back around to find Mimi chasing after him with a bowl in one hand and a bottle of salad dressing in the other.

“Would she like salad?”

Alone in the hallway, he got to see that creamy complexion and expressive mouth up close. Her expensive perfume surrounded him. Not heavy, not thick, but rich and perfect for her.

When he realized she was standing there waiting for him to respond, he said, “Sure, thanks.” He reached for the bowl. But when she thrust the bottle at him, and he had no other hands to take it, she laughed and shoved it under his arm instead.

She didn't say another word, but there was something in her eyes. An understanding, and that, accompanied by a gentle smile, nearly undid him.

“Thanks.” His voice came out gruff. He started to turn when she held a napkin out to him. From the heft, he realized she'd put in a fork and knife. Unnerved, he caught it between two fingers and set off in search of his mom.

My bet, you give that girl lessons right here in our kitchen, your ma's gonna get involved.

Yeah, his dad might be right.

He'd sure as hell give it a try.

By the time Calix got back to the kitchen, his family had gathered around Gus's laptop, the live version of his parents' hit “Can't Get Enough” playing. He hung back, watching.

Mimi looked over at him, eyes shining with delight. “I can't believe your parents are 100 Proof.” She turned to Terrence. “How come no one knows you live out here?”

“No one cares,” his dad said.

“They've been here close to thirty years,” Gus said. “People're used to us.”

Calix needed to get Mimi home. “You want to get going?” Leonie and Gus shot him nasty looks. “What? It's late.”

Right then the door opened and Shay breezed in. With her long limbs and straight blond hair, her beckoning eyes and a mouth that had pleased him more times than he could count, she walked right into his arms.

“Hey, babe.” As she pressed her lithe body up to his, she got up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. She smelled like an ocean breeze, and her skin was cool to the touch.

She headed over to Gus and gave him a fist bump. “S'up, guys?”

“Hey, Shay,” Lee said.

“Surf's ridiculous right now.” Shay took in the food on the table.

“That's right.” His dad shut off the music. “Storm's offshore.”

Shay grabbed a fork and speared a sausage. “You guys in?” she asked his brother and sister before biting off the end.

“Hell, yeah.” Gus shut down his laptop.

She set the fork down. “Get your wetsuits. Let's go.”

As soon as Gus left the room, Shay took in the scene. It seemed to take her a moment to process a table full of food and dirty dishes, the family gathered around at midnight. “What's going on?” And then her gaze settled on Mimi. She pushed away from the table. “Who're you?”

“Mimi Romano.” She motioned to him. “A friend of Calix.”

The easy smile faded. “How do you know Calix?”

“I'm friends with Blue Fire.”

Shay thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Cool.” She snagged a slice of red pepper out of the salad bowl. “You surf?”

“Uh, no. Not at all.” Mimi waved a hand. “But don't worry about me. You guys go. I'll call a cab.”

“No,” Calix said. “I'm taking you.”

Gus came back into the room, wearing an unzipped wetsuit, his top half bare. “Let's do this.” He jammed his feet into some flip-flops in the mudroom by the back door.

“Is it safe to surf at night?” Mimi asked.

“We've surfed here our whole lives,” Gus said. “We know the breaks.”

“But it's so cloudy you won't be able to see anything.”

Shay's tongue took a slow sweep across her lips. As teenagers, she'd make Calix hard all the time doing shit like that. Every move, every expression, every touch, every damn thing about her used to make him think of sex.

“It's a blast on nights like tonight.” She picked a tomato quarter out of the salad and popped it in her mouth.

Lee brought her plate to the sink and turned on the faucet. “You should come down to the beach anyway. There'll be a bonfire, and not everybody will be surfing.”

He stepped forward, digging his keys out of his pocket. Mimi hanging out with his friends? He didn't think that'd be her scene. “I'll take her now.”

“Where to?” Shay turned her sultry eyes to him.

“Eden's Landing,” Mimi said.

“Oh, forget that,” Shay said. “That'll take an hour, there and back. You'll miss all the best swells. Let her take a cab.” She looked at Mimi. “You okay with that?”

“I just said I was. It's no big deal.”

“Come on, Mimi. You really want to go home now?”

The meaningful look his sister gave Mimi made Calix think about the man she'd argued with outside the club. The way they'd acted around each other—the man's concern, and Mimi's defiance—he'd figured it had been Mimi's dad. Dressed in slacks, a sport coat, and a big, fancy watch, the man had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair—not red, like Mimi's—but he had the same expressive features and hands.

“Quit talkin' and let's go,” Gus said. “How often do we get swells around here?”

“You in?” Lee asked Mimi.

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

“I'll get my wetsuit,” Calix said. “Meet you down there.”

Shay set a hand on his hip, gave him a lazy look. “I'll come with.”

He held her gaze, wishing he had something—anything—to give her. But he just didn't. He turned and left the room, not even looking to see if she followed.

*   *   *

Paddling
against a rough current, sea spray pelting his face, Calix angled his board toward the pocket. He popped up to a crouch and held a rail into the wave face, but at the bottom of the trough he got sucked up and over the falls.

The churning water holding him down, he stroked hard until he broke the surface, taking in great gasps of air. With another huge swell approaching, he had to duck under again.

That's it. I'm out
. He powered toward shore.

Once his feet hit sand, he bent over and ripped the Velcro
of his ankle leash. He turned back to watch his friends get beat up and battered by the thrashing sea.

Catching his board under his arm, he headed for the bonfire. Gusts of wind battered his exposed skin, making him shiver
.

“Fuckin' hard to drop, man.” His friend came up beside him.

“Too much blow back.” Calix swiped the hair out of his eyes, his body still humming. Setting his board down, he unzipped his wet suit, leaving the top half dangling off his hips.

“That was awesome.” Another of the guys jogged up from the ocean. He high-fived Calix. All three of them headed toward the bonfire.

“Calix,” someone called.

He looked up to see his friend with one hand digging in a cooler, the other tossing him a beer. He caught it. “Thanks.” Standing just beyond the circle gathered around the fire, he grabbed his towel and swiped his face and chest. Pulling his T-shirt over his head, he wondered where Mimi had gone.

Hopefully, Lee was looking out for her. But then he saw his sister with a group of her friends, and Mimi wasn't among them. Had she left on her own? With the competition a week away, he imagined she'd want to get right to work. Probably in her room right then, watching
Chopped
and scouring the Internet for cooking tips. Ambitious woman like her? Yeah, she wouldn't be hanging around when she had a show to do.

Laughter rang out, and Calix looked over to find a group of his buddies clustered together, Mimi right in the middle of them. With her animated expression and gestures, she looked like she'd known these guys for years.

But she didn't know them at all. And while she might be having fun right then, she probably wouldn't want anything to do with them in about an hour. After surfing, they'd smoke some weed and drink beers, and then they'd start hooking up.

He should get her home.

With the next burst of laughter, her gaze caught on his and the smile faded. Something crackled in his chest. It had been a long time since a woman had affected him like that.

Mimi got up, swatted the sand off her ass, and headed toward him. Her brow creased the closer she got. Just before reaching him, she swiped a clean towel off a stack by the cooler.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He didn't answer, just took a pull from his beer. Something about her made him go all quiet inside. She didn't look at him the way most women did. Nothing flirty or suggestive about her. She looked like she was trying to figure him out.

Waste of time, really. He wouldn't be around her long enough to matter. He looked toward shore.

But her soft hand cupped his cheek, turning him back to her. When he jerked away, she looked at him in confusion and then laughed. “You've got some blood on your cheek. At least I think it's blood. Here.” She took the edge of the towel and wiped.

It stung, so he guessed his board had scraped him on that last dunking. “Leave it.”

“Don't be silly. Come here.” She wrapped her hand around his wrist and tugged him toward the big white cooler. Leaning over, she dug out a water bottle, and then dropped to her knees. She motioned for him to sit beside her.

He went to rub the scrape but was startled to feel an incision. Before he could give it another thought, her hand grabbed his board shorts and pulled. He settled beside her on the cool sand. “You're making a big deal out of nothing.”

“I'm wiping blood off your cheek. Not using urchin spikes and sea grass to stitch you up.”

He tried to hold back his laughter and failed—not many people hit that particular spot in him. When the wind whipped her long hair around her face, he surprised himself by pushing it back. The touch of her creamy skin sent a buzz of awareness through him.

He pulled his hand back. “I should get you home.”

“Hang on. Let me clean this up first.” Uncapping the bottle, she poured some water onto the towel and dabbed the wound. It burned, and he sucked in a breath.

She pulled her hand back. “Okay?”

Her gentle patting, along with the rustle of beach grass, settled him down. For as bold as she could be, Mimi Romano had a surprisingly gentle touch.

“I can't believe I didn't know your parents are 100 Proof. That's crazy.” When he didn't respond, she pulled back to look at him. “Why'd they stop playing?”

“They wanted a family.”

“They couldn't play and raise a family?”

He didn't want to get into it. “Didn't want to raise kids in that lifestyle. They wanted something more wholesome for us.”

“And look at you, all up in the music industry.” Gently, she dabbed at the wound, the wind whipping all that sleek hair around her face. “Way to stick it to the 'rents.”

“Yeah.” She'd meant it as a joke, obviously, but the simple comment sliced across his heart.

“This place is amazing.” Her voice was soft, gentle. “You must've loved growing up here.”

A cold burst of wind sent sand spattering against his ankles. The next time she reached out to his wound, he noticed goose bumps on her arm. He pulled the towel from her hands, shook it out, and wrapped it around her. “Was that your dad you bailed on tonight?”

She nodded, drawing the towel more tightly around her, like she was snuggling into it.

“Seemed pretty pissed.”

“Him or me?”

“You seemed pissed, but your dad . . . looked like he was worried about you.”

Her hands settled in her lap. “We disagree on how to run my life.”

“Aren't you twenty-four?”

“Exactly. But he's set in his ways. And while I respect his opinion, it's not like his way is the
only
way. I just wish he'd be proud of me when I don't listen to him. You know? I mean, do you sometimes feel like you have to jump through hoops to make your parents happy?”

“No.”

“Well, okay, then.” She laughed. “In any event, my dad
thinks I'm making a huge mistake by being on the
Verna Bloom Show
.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm not a chef, and he thinks I'll make a fool of myself on national television. But I can't let him get in my head. I need to stay positive. I mean, look what happened when I told your dad about it. First thing out of his mouth was, ‘What's your plan?' And the second thing? ‘Calix can help you.' That's what I wanted my dad to say.”

He nodded. His dad was a good guy.

“To be honest, though.” She worried the edge of the towel. “It hurt because everything he said was right. I mean, I have an MBA. Why
would
they choose me to be on the show?”

“'Cause you're beautiful. And smart. And you light up a room.”

Her eyes widened, her lips softly parted, and she seemed at a loss for words. “Um, thank you. I . . . I didn't know you even noticed me.”

“Hard not to.”

She kept her gaze on him, as though trying to figure him out.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing. I just . . . I'm surprised to hear you say that.” She shook her head. “Whatever. It is what it is. I'm doing the show, and I'm going to kick ass.”

“I don't know what your dad was talking about. You're not a ditz. How could you make a fool of yourself?”

“He thinks they chose me—Dino Romano's pampered princess socialite daughter—for the ratings.”

“That's harsh.” And totally wrong.

“Yeah. But there's truth in it.”

“Are you a pampered princess socialite?”

“Of course not. But he's saying they'll spin it that way. He's thinking it's reality TV.”

“Okay, even if he's right, which doesn't make sense to me, I still say it can't go down that way. Ten minutes into the first show they'll see the truth about you. No question.”

“You're absolutely right. Funny how I let him get into my head like that.”

“I can see you on TV.” For all the months he'd known her, he'd kept his distance. Something about her made him uncomfortable. But just then, being so close and really noticing her, he got it. She had a natural sensuality that belied her businesswoman demeanor and had him thinking of her in ways he shouldn't. She worked with the band. Off-limits.

“You can?”

“
Fuck a duck
.” He said it in the same exercised tone she used.

She eyed him questioningly, like she thought he was making fun of her.

“First day I met you.
Fuck a duck
.”

She smiled, and even in the moonlight her pale skin flushed sweetly.

“First words that came out of your mouth.”

“I'm a delicate flower.” She grinned. “What can I say?”

“You'd just quit your job. Said the guy who hired you didn't have any use for you if he couldn't have access to your dad's bank account.”