“None of my rules apply to him,” she snapped, frustrated at Camille for bringing up everything Fallon already knew. She knew Rafe had found a way to slip through the cracks, causing her to break her well-constructed rules—and it worried her. “He’s found a way to break them, Cam. He slept over, took me to a cookout, and somehow managed to get me to spend the night in his bed.”
A pleased grin curled on Camille’s red lips. “Good. You needed someone to break your damn rules. I never liked your rule book anyway. You need a little fun and attention from a man.”
“Since when have you known me to need anything from anyone?” she challenged.
Camille leaned forward in her seat and sharpened her eyes on Fallon. “That’s exactly the problem, Fallon. Everyone needs something—someone. It’s time you let yourself love. Or hell, at least let yourself want. You need this. And it’s time you let someone need you.”
Let someone need her? She’d need to let someone in, completely in. Not just within arm’s length. She’d have to break down the remaining walls that were still holding her together. And she just couldn’t do that.
“So what time are auditions?” she asked, changing the subject. But Camille was used to her antics.
Cam shook her head in mock defeat and rolled her eyes. It looked like Fallon was off the hook, at least for now. The one thing she had playing in her favor was that, like Fallon, Camille didn’t mess around when it came to the clubs. “Auditions start this afternoon at three. You’ll teach the girls the group number; then they’ll audition it as a whole tomorrow morning. Then your talented butt is going to hire my choreographer. I’ve got three lined up for auditions tomorrow after the girls perform their solo routines for you.”
“You’re making them do their solo numbers again?” she asked.
“Yep. I want your opinion. These girls here are no joke, sweets. They remind me a lot of you. They’re talented. We can take Velour to a whole new level here.” She beamed. Her excitement was tangible and Fallon couldn’t help but reciprocate it.
Standing up, Camille made her way to the solarium. “Come on, sweets. Go get ready for auditions and we’ll grab lunch before we go to the club.”
Typical Cam, always on the go. That woman didn’t stop or slow down for anyone. More than likely the reason her apartment looked like a showroom instead of a home.
“And, Fallon,” she said, her steps halting as she spun back around to face her. “We’ve both become experts on the way a man looks when he wants something. But Rafe, baby—that man didn’t just look at you like he wanted you right then and there in the middle of the road in every delicious way a man could want a woman. He looked at you like he needed you. In the way a woman wants to be needed. In the way a woman deserves to be needed. And, baby, I’d say that man is exactly what you need.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Stubbing out the cherry of his cigarette in the ashtray on the small wicker table, Rafe leaned back in the old wooden rocking chair on the front porch and crossed his ankle over his knee. He’d finally talked to Leo that morning, and the guy sounded rough. Rafe didn’t know what was going on with him, and he was pretty positive that Leo wouldn’t tell him either. And that shit didn’t sit well with him.
“Hey, kid,” his dad said, pushing through the screen door.
Lifting his head, he nodded. “Hey, old man.”
He handed Rafe a beer. “You waiting on that woman of yours?” He grunted as he sat down in the rocking chair on the other side of the wicker table and pulled a Marlboro Red from the front pocket of his T-shirt.
“Eh, I’m just thinking.”
“Not a whole lotta good thinking does for a man, Rafael.”
He inhaled a fortifying breath and blew it out. His dad was right. Unless Leo wanted to talk to him about whatever the fuck was going on, there was nothing Rafe could do. His brother was a grown man. And thinking about what he could or couldn’t do to help him wouldn’t do him any good.
“You’re a wise man when you want to be, Pop.”
His dad took a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry quickly burning the paper closer to his fingers. “I’m a wise man all the time—you shits just have selective hearing.”
Laughing, Rafe nodded in agreement.
“So you gonna tell me about this woman you and your brother bribed into coming here?”
“What do you want to know? Because I don’t know a whole lot,” he admitted. Of course, that wasn’t completely true. He knew the way her body looked astride him, the way her mouth tasted, and the breathy sounds she made when his face was between her thighs. He also knew that whatever was between them was heavy; it was insane, and fast, and uncontrollably real.