It was the kind of place you could smell before you could see it. I'd passed it on the mad drive up here - tailing August like I was James fucking Bond himself - and pegged it for an old fashioned greasy spoon. The heavy aroma of frying oil hung around it in a cloud. I bet it was one of those places that had different kinds of pie rotating inside of a glass case.

I was right. Thank God and all the saints a-fucking-bove, I was right, because now I got to watch August Waverley devour a slice of bright-red cherry pie.

She slid her fork down through the whipped cream first and licked it greedily from the tines. Then she broke the crust and let the cherries ooze out onto the plate before scraping them up with the side of her fork. The way her lips closed around that bite of cherry pie had me ready to write an entire rock opera in their honor. I was transfixed.

She sat up straighter, looking suddenly alarmed, then dove for her purse. When she emerged with her phone in her hand, my heart sank a little. Partly because I wanted to keep watching her eat, mostly because I didn't want to share her with whoever was on the phone. But I was attempting to not be an asshole. At least, not an asshole to her. Eric could go fuck himself.

"All right, love?" I asked as she read the message on her screen.

Her shoulders rose in a deep sigh as her fingers flew over the keypad. "My brother," she said by way of explanation.

"Which one? You have a lot of them"

She set her phone down and glanced at it again. "I'm talking to Leo, who's the oldest after me about Tate, the middle guy."

"He's the one having trouble at uni?" I ventured.

She shot me a grateful glance. "Yeah," she said. "I asked Leo to see about getting in touch since I hadn't heard from him in a few days." She shook her head. "That's not like him. He usually checks in twice a day."

"Maybe he's too busy shagging sorority chicks," I teased, reaching for an extra fork.

She batted my hand away from her pie. "My little brother is pure as the driven snow, thank you very much."

"Aye love. And so am I."

She rolled her eyes. But to my surprise she put her phone away. "You have a point," she said slowly.

"Ah love, I know what that cost you to say that. To admit I'm right."

"I didn't say you were right, I said you have a point," she corrected with that little just of her chin I was falling in love with. "He clearly needs some space, since he's not calling me back." She sighed again and then shrugged and picked up her fork, attacking the pie with renewed vigor. "It's just," she said, pausing to lick a bit of cherry from the corner of her pinkened lips. "I keep having this weird feeling, you know? Like there's more to it." She shook her head. "Probably just being a control freak."

I feigned shock. "You?"

"Hush it." Another bite of pie disappeared into her mouth and a slow, mocking grin spread across her lips. "Oh, sorry," she said. "Did you want some pie? There isn't much left."

I chuckled and held her gaze. "I am definitely in the mood for something sweet."

She shook her head and glanced at her phone again. "We need to be getting back," she sighed. "You guys are looping vocals tonight."

I shrugged. "I don't do vocals, love. No need for me to be there, really." I shot her a grin. "I was only going to be there for moral support. Planned on grabbing a 12-pack and heckling Hudson."

"That's terrible."

"Well, and I also planned on seeing if I could wear you down." I grinned and reached out to scrape my fork against her plate. "But it seems I've already accomplished that goal."

She grinned tightly. "You're the worst. What if they need you?"

"For what?"

"I don't know, to keep time or something."

"That's what the click track is for."

I slid my hand across the table and tried to take her hand but she moved it away. "Well I have to be there, anyway, so..."

"No, love. You actually don't. No other manager on the face of the planet is this wrapped up in the day-to-day of studio-life."

The corner of her lip twitched. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing bad of course." This conversation felt like a plane spinning into a nosedive and I was trying my hardest to yank up on the controls. "It's just... you keep trying to treat this process like a business, you know? With the schedules and the time-tables and the bloody wake up calls. This is rock and roll, love. We're trying to make fucking magic and to do that you sometimes just need to take a bloody day off and shag someone you fancy." I winked.

She pressed her lips into a thin, white line. "See, this is it. Right here."

"What is what?"

"Why I don't date fucking musicians." She stood up. "You think it all just happens? That this shit just magically comes together? No, you smug Brit, it's because I work my bloody ass off for you guys. And that's exactly what this is, work. We work together." She shook her head. "And it's a giant mistake to get involved with someone you work with."

I stood up. "So make a fucking mistake for once, love."

Her eyes flashed.

"I'll tell you what," I said. "I'm going to let you walk away from me again. You've got two directions you can head. One is out that front door. If you do that, I'll drive you back to the cabins and drop you off without laying a hand on you, you have my word. But that'll be the end of it. No more games."

"And what's the other direction."

I leaned in closer. That flush was spreading across the tops of her tits and I knew if I pressed my hand to her heart it would feel like she was running as fast as she could. But she was standing still. Staying.

"The other direction is to the bathroom, love," I told her, brushing my lips past her ear. "You head in that direction, I know you're ready to fuck everything up. Make the best mistake you could make."

She shivered a little. I could feel the heat rising off her skin and it was only the fact that we were standing in a half-empty restaurant that kept me from tearing off her clothes. "Ready to walk away?" I asked her, before I lost control and just threw her onto the table and fucked her right here.

"Mmm," she hummed. Not a real word. Not yes or no. She was still protecting herself. Still playing.

"Calling your bluff, love," I said. And deliberately stepped back.

She looked at me, eyes darting all over my face like she was trying to read me like a book. "Close your eyes," she suddenly demanded.

I had to chuckle. "Still trying to control it?"

"Give me a head start. Count to thirty."

I held her gaze for a moment. And then I deliberately closed my eyes. I took a deep breath. "One..."

I heard her walk away. "Two." The clink of glasses. "Three." I strained to hear a door, any door. "Four." A waitress greeted the couple waiting in the booth behind us. "Six." Was that the front door opening? "Seven." Was that someone coming in or going out? "Eight, Nine, Ten," I sped up the counting as my heart rate increased. "ElevenTwelveThirteenFourteen." How fucking stupid was I to agree to this?" "Fifteen..."

"Fuck!" I growled and opened my eyes, scanning desperately for August's flame-red hair. She was nowhere to be seen.

Heart sinking, I started making my way to the front door. I pushed it open and looked for her silhouette in the van.

She wasn't waiting in the passenger seat. Or the driver's.

I turned and sprinted headlong to the bathroom door.