4 - It's a Hybrid, Darlin'

“Hey, baby doll!”   

“Hey, yourself,” Jon returned with a smile as the garage door slammed shut. 

Putting the twice-read newspaper aside, he spun the kitchen stool and lifted his face for a kiss, but she was oblivious.  Cassidy breezed past him in a cloud of antiseptic and blue scrubs without stopping.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick.  Do me a favor and grab my jeans from the dryer, would ya?  Not the faded or the dark, but the ones with….”  She drew up short, waving an impatient hand and pivoting back toward the laundry room. “Nevermind.  It’s easier to do it myself.  How was your day?”

“Fine.  And slow the fuck down.  You’re early, so we’ve got plenty of time. 

“Not in Friday evenin’ traffic we don’t.”

When she emerged from the laundry room with jeans in tow, Jon snagged an elbow before she could escape.  With one eyebrow lifted, he pointedly observed, “You drive like a bat out of hell.  Pretty sure you can make up the time it takes to give me a damn kiss.”

“I’m not drivin’ tonight,” she countered but graced him with a smiling smooch before slipping free.

“What?  You actually gonna let me drive?” 

She never let him behind the wheel of her little SUV, claiming – much as she had with the jeans – that it was easier to do it herself.  He admittedly wasn’t as familiar with the streets in Nashville but didn’t agree that a Jersey boy didn’t have the patience to drive in the South.  Huffing and swearing under his breath weren’t anywhere close to flat-out road rage, but whatever made her happy made him happy, so Jon went with it.

“No,” she chuckled.  “A car is gonna to pick us up in twenty minutes.  I almost got a ticket for textin’ and drivin’ but I managed to get one.”

Okay, fine.  She didn’t want to drive and didn’t trust him to.  Jon wasn’t all that keen on trying to find parking downtown, anyway.  A driver was the logical choice.  Still…

“You realize I’m capable of ordering car service, right?” he called after her.

“My way is better,” was the laughing assurance from the staircase.

A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as Jon grunted in quiet disgust.  This day wasn’t going at all as planned.

Oh sure, he’d accomplished his errand and was pleased with the finished product, but that was the only thing going for him.  Between Cassidy’s full workday and rushing around to get ready for a dinner Jon didn’t care about, they had yet to spend a full minute together.

That made it exceptionally hard to find the “right” time to present her with that finished product – or bring up performing tomorrow night.  It also eliminated any opportunity for something as mundane as holding her hand and talking while soaking in her smile and slow, sweet drawl. 

These last few weeks had been necessary, but they sure as hell hadn’t been fun.  Jon missed his girl.

Now, instead of taking advantage of the hired car’s backseat in more pleasurable ways, he had to take care of business, as it were.  Because there was no way he could let Cassidy blindly walk into Merchants tonight without knowing his plan to put her on stage.  If he did, David would make a concentrated effort to break the news first – and do it with an evil smile.

The trick was finding an angle that kept her from immediately digging in her stubborn heels and refusing. 

Easier said than done. 

Six months he’d spent trying to come up with one logical explanation that wouldn’t invite her obstinacy, and still no luck.  Chances were good that she wouldn’t listen to ten words once she got the gist of what he was saying, because the woman was hell-bent on doing everything on her own.

Every.  Fucking.  Thing.

She loved having Jon in residence anytime he wanted to come, but there was no doubt who this house belonged to. 

Cassidy paid the mortgage, insurance and utilities.  She had the numbers for her favorite handyman and plumber on the refrigerator – right under the magnet with the lawn service name and logo.  She thought the lawn service charged too much for snow removal, though, so her teenage neighbor was in charge of shoveling the driveway.  The downstairs guest bath had needed remodeling last fall, and she did the demolition work – with the help of Libby -  to reduce the cost of contract labor. 

It was obvious she’d never been married or been coddled by a father who took care of everything.  When her parents had died, they left her with a strong woman who had raised Cassidy in her image. 

Jon admired that strength and was damn proud of her. 

There were just sometimes when…

“How do I look?”

It had been mere minutes since she went upstairs, but Cassidy looked like a million bucks as she sauntered back into the kitchen, ready to go. 

Her makeup and ponytail were now flawless, as was the curve of her backside in the Levi’s she’d chosen from the dryer.  The powder blue of a soft cowl neck sweater made her already bright blue eyes pop with light and stacked-heel ankle boots thumped gently on the hardwood until she stopped in front of before him.  When both arms lifted straight out to her sides, he caught sight of the leather bracelets made from his belt. 

“Fucking beautiful.”

“Sweet talkin’ brevity.  It makes my heart go pitty pat,” she teased gently when crossing those braceleted wrists behind his neck. 

Jon cupped the backs of shapely thighs that wedged between his and wished he didn’t have to worry about dinner, careers or stubbornness tonight.  He’d give anything to crawl between her legs for a dose of the soul-soothing sanity he couldn’t find anywhere else. 

Since that wasn’t an option right now, he squeezed her thighs with a lopsided grin.  “I’ve always known what makes your panties wet.”

“That you have,” she agreed with an affectionate stroke of his cheek.  “But how ‘bout we keep ‘em dry until after dinner, hmm?”

Jon’s fingers crept around her thighs to rub at the center seam on the jeans, and he grinned when she jumped.  He was sure it had nothing to do with the text message chiming from her back pocket.  “Wet’s a helluva lot more fun.”

“While I don’t disagree, it would appear as though our ride’s here.”  After softly brushing their lips together, Cassidy back-pedaled out of his grasp.  “Where’s your jacket?  Hall closet?”

“Yeah, but I’ll get it.”

Her natural-nailed hand waved him off for the second time in twenty minutes.  “I’m halfway there already.  Besides, I need mine.  I got a new one you’ll like.”

Jon had little choice but to follow along like a puppy, but it didn’t keep him from complaining, “Valentine’s was three days ago.  Why didn’t you tell me about a coat when I asked what you wanted?”

“Because you were tryin’ to pretend you actually gave a fig about Valentine’s when you don’t, and I’d already ordered it,” she explained easily, handing his black leather out of the closet.  While he slipped it on, she also pushed her arms into sleeves and turned with a smile.  “Like it?”

Even through the annoyance that she was right about his Valentine’s Day sentiments, he could acknowledge she’d made a good choice with the jacket.  It was deep-red leather that perfectly hugged her curves, and the banded collar sat perfectly beneath her sweater’s neckline. 

The color was nearly the same as that of her guitar and would go well with…

“Nice, but what?  No ruby heels?”

Cassidy patted the voluminous bag she’d pulled from the closet and was using for a purse tonight.  Her grin was Cheshire Cat worthy when outlining, “Boots for outdoors and ruby slippers for indoors.  Now let’s get goin’ before our Uber leaves us.”

“Uber?” he demanded as the crisp winter air hit his lungs.  “That’s what you’re calling a hired car?”

Even under the porch light’s muted glow, he could see that the eyes cutting his way danced with amusement.  “You pay ‘em to drive you.  That’s the definition of hired, baby doll.”

The sun had set over an hour ago, so Jon couldn’t decipher the make and model of the vehicle whose lights were glowing in the driveway, but it damn-sure wasn’t his preferred SUV.  It wasn’t even a Town Car.    

“It looks like a damn Matchbox car.”

She laughed at his quiet mutter.  “The app said a Prius.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“It’s a hybrid, darlin’.  Good for the environment.”

Jon was all about conserving the environment, but he’d rather not sit in the driver’s lap to do it.  He would’ve told her that if she wasn’t already leaning in the open back door with a cheery, “Hi there!  How are ya this evenin’?”

“Great,” the twenty-something guy returned, a smile slashing through the dark beard and moustache.  “You Cassidy?”

“I am.  And you must be Elliott.” 

“True story.  Dinner at Merchants, right?”

Her shapely rear slid across the short back seat to make room for Jon, whose foot got caught on the doorway.  Swearing under his breath, he decided next time he’d take his chances on parking availability. 

“We’re supposed to be there at seven,” she confirmed with apology.  “Since that’s only fifteen minutes from now, I know we’re not gonna make it, but if you could do your best, we’d be real appreciative.  Wouldn’t we, honey?”

Jon grunted when a petite elbow dug into his ribs.  “Yeah.  Right.”

“Elliott, this here’s Jon.  He’s the strong silent type, so don’t be offended if he don’t talk your ear off.”

The driver’s eyes found his in the rearview mirror and grew wide with recognition.  “Uhh…  Hi.  Wow.  I….  You don’t have a limousine or something?  Man.  Jon Bon Jovi is in my Prius.  I can’t believe it.”

Neither can I, man.  Neither can I.

Swallowing his sigh, Jon forced his features into some semblance of pleasantry.  “No limo.  My girl likes to keep me humble.”

“Oh, man!  You’re that Cassidy?  Cassidy Starr?”  To his credit, the guy’s gushing didn’t stop him from peeling the Prius out of the driveway and zipping down the street.  “My girlfriend loves the song you’ve got on the radio.  Well, I do, too.  We’re both going to the Bon Jovi show tomorrow night.  Any chance you’re opening for them, since he’s… you know?”

Her laughter was light and friendly when slipping a hand inside Jon’s.  “Well, I ‘preciate you thinkin’ I’d be good enough to open for the likes of Bon Jovi, but that’s not gonna happen.”

And any chance I had of it happening, just got pissed into the wind. 

There was no way he could have that conversation now, with fan-boy Elliott chattering away about what a shame it was.  Cassidy was going to find out from David, which meant there wasn’t a chance in hell of Jon convincing her to do it. 

Unless I get to Dave first.

While the driver asked about her album release, Jon pulled the phone from his back pocket. 

[6:49 PM]JON: I need a favor, Lema.  A big one.