Take Me with You (Take Me #2)(64)

“Oh,” she said with a giant smile on her face. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Hey, baby,” a girl said, sliding onto my lap and planting a kiss on my cheek. “It’s good to see you out with the guys again.”

Aribel glared at the girl. “Who the hell are you?”

“Don’t worry, honey. There’s enough of him to go around.”

I stood, depositing the girl on the floor. I had no patience for her antics. She was hot and had been throwing herself at me since New Year’s. I was f*cking tired of it. She knew she had no f*cking shot, and she was acting this way to try to piss off Ari.

“Jaci, go blow Vin or something.”

She scrambled to her feet, straightening her tiny skirt out. “What the f*ck, Grant?”

“Nothing has ever happened with us Jaci. Nothing is ever going to happen with us. If you didn’t notice, my girlfriend is here,” I said, pointing at Ari. “Get some f*cking manners.”

“Will she be at the next show? Because I’m free.” She winked at me.

“Are girls normally this brazen?” Ari asked in shock.

Miller shrugged. “With Grant.”

“Whatever, Jaci. You know I’m not f*cking interested. Wouldn’t you rather take it up the ass with Vin again instead of acting so f*cking desperate around me?”

Her cheeks colored. I didn’t feel bad calling her out about it. Maybe I was finally getting through.

“Fine,” she grumbled and then stomped toward Vin.

His face lit up at her approach, and then they were exiting the building.

I shook my head and sank back down. With her ridiculous demonstration out of the way, I slung my arm over Ari’s shoulders and tried to enjoy the rest of the evening. It was damn good, having my girl here with me. It felt right.

It was the piece that had been missing on this tour. But I knew she would never follow us around like these sluts. She was too smart and independent for that, and I wouldn’t f*cking change that for the world. It was what had made me fall in love with her.

On nights like this, with her nestled in my arms after hours of sex while surrounded by my friends, it started to sound like the dream.

But tomorrow, I knew that reality would return with all its nightmares.

Grant and I stood outside of my parents’ house. He couldn’t stop staring at the massive building, and I couldn’t blame him. It was an enormous six-bedroom brick creation that had been built in the early 1800s. My parents had purchased it when I was three, and it had undergone more historical upkeep and renovations over the years than the White House.

“This is where you grew up?” Grant asked.

“Um, yeah. Home sweet home.”

“Fuck.”

I nodded. I couldn’t imagine what this was like for him. He’d come from a broken home, his parents had been lost to him at ten years old, he’d grown up and worked at his uncle’s pizza place on the shore…and now, he was seeing this. It made me feel self-conscious, which was a feeling I certainly wasn’t used to.

“Come on. Let’s go inside.”

I’d ditched my leather jacket in favor of a pale blue sundress and ballet flats. I’d even been sure to pull a straightener through my hair, which was well past my shoulders at this point.

Grant looked presentable but still like…Grant. He didn’t have a lot of clothing choices on tour and even fewer opportunities to iron his clothes, not that I suspected he did it at home either. He was in dark-wash jeans and a plain black T-shirt. His hair was still unbelievably messy but in a way that made me want to walk him back to the hotel and give it a reason for being messy. I could tell his nerves had set in, making my confident boyfriend ill at ease.

We were a match set.

I brought Grant in through the front door even though I typically entered through the garage door. The house opened up into an impressive two-story foyer and a large winding staircase. My father’s office was off to the left, so I immediately walked Grant in the opposite direction.

“Aribel,” my mother said. She greeted us in the formal living room, looking like a Stepford wife in an A-line dress, perfect pumps, and pearls. Her blonde hair was coifed and stunning.

I’d always been told that I looked like my mother, but I was as stubborn as my father, so I frequently felt like that resemblance was lacking.

“Mom.” I smiled softly. There were no warm hugs in my family. “This is my boyfriend, Grant.”

She reached her slender hand out and shook his once, almost as if she were afraid his germs would rub off on her. “Pleased to meet you.”

“You, too,” Grant said.

Then, we all stood there in awkward silence. My mother, the ultimate hostess, made us uncomfortably stand there as if it were the most natural thing for her to do.

“Mother!” I snapped. “Dinner? Dad? Aaron? Don’t we have plans?”

She blinked. “Yes, of course. I’ll go speak with your father. Why don’t you show your friend around?”

My friend.

Great, Mom.

“Come on, Grant.” I tugged him away from my mother and into the kitchen. I sighed when we entered the bustling room. “Sorry about that.”

“Went better than I’d expected.”

I warily looked at him. “Really?”