Starlight (Peaches Monroe #2)(25)
Author: Mimi Strong

“Shape aside, I don’t fit the profile. My father’s in my life, but I do have a problem with cupcakes.”

He grinned, staring ahead at the traffic, then giving me a quick glance before looking the other way to change lanes. In the golden early-evening light, Mitchell looked cherubic with his blue eyes and curly hair.

He said, “You’re going back to your real life right after this, aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan.”

“What about Dalton Deangelo?”

“We’re done. Broken up. Kaput. Over. Please don’t tell anyone, though. I’d rather go quietly back to Washington without a lot of nosy questions.”

He reached over and patted my knee, which was such a sweet and perfect gesture, I nearly told him I loved him.

We got to the sushi restaurant, parked, and went in quickly, only to have to stand in line to be seated. The place was packed, and unlike the few sushi places I’d been to, didn’t smell of bleach, but of food. Waitresses sailed back and forth with plates of food—tempura vegetables, teriyaki beef, and rolls of spectacular size.

Mitchell turned to me. “There’s nothing quite as life-affirming as a great live band, or a busy restaurant after a long day’s work.”

“Thanks for taking me here. Everything looks really good.”

The hostess took our name and told us the wait wouldn’t be long.

Mitchell, looking sly, turned to me and said, “Didn’t you come here Sunday, with Keith?”

“No, we, um…” My cheeks were burning with embarrassment. “We went to a steak house. I forget the name. He’s friends with the owners.”

Mitchell’s blue eyes got huge, his blond lashes blinking to accentuate his interest. “Tell me you didn’t. No. Tell me you did, and then tell me everything.”

“I thought you didn’t approve.”

He waved his hand. “Cat’s out of the bag now. May as well have some fun while we’re all on this planet.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “Is Keith the reason you and Dalton broke up?”

“No, those were completely separate events.” As I said the words, I detected a lie. It was a small lie, but the events weren’t entirely unrelated. I’d already kissed Keith, and I was at his apartment when I broke up with Dalton. If I’d been at Dalton’s house that night, or even at a hotel—one that didn’t have the waiting arms of another man on the other side of my door—would I have done the same thing?

Did Keith break us up?

I felt dizzy. Everything in my life was happening so fast, out of my control.

Dalton would be back in LA the next day, and my stuff was still at his house. The clothes were expendable, but I had to get my laptop. What would seeing him do to me?

The hostess took us to a seat in the window and told us we were a beautiful couple. I wrinkled my nose, because Mitchell was shorter than me and probably weighed the same as my purse, but he gave her a heartfelt thank-you anyway, which I suppose is the proper response to a compliment.

The menu had twelve pages, with photographs of everything. I’d never seen anything like it, and admitted to Mitchell I was in way over my head, and that he should order for me.

He did, and we enjoyed a sumptuous feast with a bit of everything. Even the rice was delicious, and it was just plain rice, but cooked perfectly. The thing that surprised me was the spinach gomaae, which was lightly cooked spinach with a peanut sauce. It was delicious, and probably my second favorite thing of the night.

My favorite thing was Mitchell telling me all his hilarious stories about dating models. He dated one guy who was obsessed with crafting the perfect root beer, and succeeded mainly in spraying sticky soda all over the kitchen. Another one had a chew-and-spit eating disorder that was the cause of many fights—not so much about the disorder, but the wasting of pricey food, because he also liked fancy restaurants. A third male model was just exceptionally dumb and sent sexy text messages that were incomprehensible. Mitchell received one of his texts, then responded with a na**d torso shot, which he thought was what the guy wanted. It turned out the man’s brother had been shot in the chest and was at the hospital. Now, before you get all bummed out thinking that last story was just sad and not funny at all, I should mention the brother was just fine, as he’d actually been “shot” in the chest with a champagne cork, right before he fell over a railing and broke his leg.

I could have stayed all night, eating green tea ice cream and hearing Mitchell’s stories, but I had to get back to Keith’s place.

Mitchell drove me there, and made sure we had each other’s phone numbers in case I needed anything else from him while I was in LA.

“Just gimme one of those awesome Mitchell hugs,” I said, and he gave me one.

I knocked on Keith’s door, which had regular music playing on the other side—top forty stuff.

He opened the door wide, wearing absolutely nothing but a big grin. “Hi, honey, you’re home!”

I herded his na**d body back into the apartment and pulled the door shut behind us. “Are you drinking?” I asked, though the empty bottles on the kitchen counter should have been my first clue.

“Let’s go swimming,” he answered, his goodies waggling back and forth.

“Only if you put some shorts on.”

CHAPTER 10

Keith waved his hand clumsily. “They don’t care around here. The neighbors are very lacka—” He hiccuped. “Lacka-da-da-daisies. That word.”

“Lackadaisical.”

“Yes. Let’s go swimming. Just us. Nobody else.”

I looked around the apartment for signs of drugs, but this seemed to be a garden-variety, one-person booze party, and I can’t say I haven’t done the same from time to time.

He walked into his bedroom, so I followed his cute buns and watched as he rooted around inside dresser drawers for a swimsuit.

“Keith, I’m so sorry they pulled you off the shoot. They’re absolute idiots. That Sven guy is a big jerkwad, and I’m sure the photos won’t be good. I’ll probably have a look of disgust on my face in every shot.”

He stopped rummaging and turned to me. “Disgust? Did he do something to you?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll kill him.” He seemed to sober up instantly.

“Let’s go for that swim,” I said, reaching into the drawer around him and pulling out what looked and felt like swim trunks. “It’s been a long day, and I’d love to go for a swim with you.”