I open my mouth to tell him to go fuck himself again, but Holly comes toward me and lays a hand on my arm.
“You can’t fire him over this, Crey. Hit him again, maybe. But then go take him out for a beer and get back to solid ground. He’s just looking out for you, and he’s been important to you for a lot longer than I have. I won’t be the reason that breaks. So, figure your shit out.”
Then she looks to Cannon. “But if you ever call me a piece of ass again, I’ll immortalize you in a song, and I promise, you will not like how it ends. And that’ll be after I take my best shot at knocking your perfect freaking teeth out.”
Turning back to me, she adds, “I’m going to go back to the penthouse now to try to finish up these songs and do damage control with Chance. I’ll be waiting when you’ve finished up your meetings. I actually feel like blowing off my diet and cooking tonight. So make sure you bring your appetite.”
She leans up on her tiptoes once more, and I decide that it’s one of my favorite moves. Her lips press lightly against mine. My hand curves around her hip, anchoring her to me.
When she lowers back down to her heels, I release my hold on her. “I’m glad you’re here, Holly. Really fucking glad.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Her lips curl into a smile, but it’s still not quite as wide as the one I saw on her face on Country Dreams. Once this is all over, I’ll make sure she has even more to smile about.
“Is your kitchen stocked?”
I nod. “Yes, but I’ll have a car take you home.”
She doesn’t argue. “Okay, Crey. I’ll make something that’ll keep, no matter how late you get home.”
Warm contentment settles in my chest. This is an entirely new feeling for me. Working as a team, supporting each other.
“I’ll be home as soon as I can, baby.”
Her smile as she leaves the room only ratchets up that contented feeling, lacing it with determination to put this behind us as quickly as I can so we can move forward.
When the door shuts behind her, Cannon grips his jaw with his hand and cracks it. “One more meeting with the lawyers. You lay out whatever plan you’ve got. They’ll tell you it’s inadvisable. You’ll decide, fuck it, I’m CEO and therefore I can do whatever the fuck I want, and you’ll do it anyway.” He stills his movements and pins me with the blue eyes I’ve known since boarding school. “Is that about how this is going to go?”
I grin. “Yes.”
“Then let’s get it over with quickly so you can get home to the wife.”
I hold out my hand, and he shakes it. “Sounds good.”
I’m going all out tonight. Fried chicken, cornbread, baked beans, steamed broccoli, and cherry cobbler. I know, the broccoli is the odd man out, but it’s my nod at attempting to stick to my nutrition plan.
I’ve got Elle King cranked up, and I’m bobbing along to “America’s Sweetheart” when I feel him behind me. I have no explanation for it. Crey just has a presence, and apparently it’s one that my body is absolutely and completely attuned to.
“Hey, baby. Hope you’re hungry.” I lift the chicken out of the boiling oil and set it aside to drain before I turn to face him.
“Goddamn, I don’t know what smells better—you or the chicken.”
I snort. “I’m going to assume that’s a compliment and just roll with it.”
He leans down to press a kiss to my lips. “It is. And I’ll be having you for dessert.”
I haven’t had an orgasm since the one that I had during our phone sex last night. And damn—has it really only been one night? My body is wound so tight that you couldn’t prove it by me.
“That sounds fabulous.”
Crey turns and sets his briefcase on the bar stool, and I can’t help but smile at the fact that he didn’t set it down before he came to me. He removes his coat, lays it over the briefcase, and comes to stand beside me at the stove.
“What are you feeding me, woman?”
“Are you in caveman mode now? See woman, she cook. She must feed man,” I say in my best caveman voice.
“If you want to play that game later, I’ll drag you back to my cave.”
I shake my head, a laugh spilling from my lips. Even in the midst of this shitstorm, we’re laughing and joking. That means something, right? How you limp along during the bad times means so much more than how you glide along during the good ones, right?
“You’re crazy, Crey. And I love that about you.”
He leans down and this time, sweeps my hair aside and brushes kisses along my neck. I try to swallow back the moan, but it escapes anyway. Even so, reality intrudes.
“Baby, I’ve got hot oil on the stove. You need to let me finish frying the chicken, and then we can pick this up.”
He growls—growls—before backing away. “You already open a bottle of wine?”
“Nope. Left that to you. I’d probably pick something that clashed horribly with the masterpiece we’re about to eat.”