Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Another breathtaking view walked into my line of sight, and my heartbeat kicked up a notch. Zoe set a piece of chocolate cake down next to me, offered me a ghost of a smile, and retreated toward the kitchen. She knew the cardinal rule of my writing time: never talk to me while writing.
To my unexplainable disappointment, she honored it, but then again, she always followed the rules.
My eyes followed the curve of her ass as she walked away.
Rules had always been more like guidelines to me.
I’d kissed her yesterday. It wasn’t something I’d planned, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it either. Fuck, she’d tasted good—like cider but sweeter—and I’d fallen into her like an all-night bender, with complete abandon and zero thoughts to the consequences.
My fingers moved over the strings as I replayed that kiss in my head. The shock that had been obvious in the set of her lips had evaporated as she’d kissed me back, and our chemistry… I’d never felt anything that intense from something so innocent in my life.
I wanted to feel it again.
My hands moved, physically manifesting the melody that drifted through my mind. The music came first—it always did. The lyrics would follow, putting words to the emotion, but without the music they were nothing, just pretty poetry. It was the notes, the lows that swelled in tone and then pitch that brought the listener to their feet…or their knees, all depending on my mood.
I scribbled down the chord progression and tablature, then tinkered with it a bit as my stomach grumbled. Right, I’d skipped lunch.
Which was probably why Zoe had brought me cake.
I set my guitar down on her padded stand, then dug into the cake. Zoe’s mom was one hell of a baker. The chocolate melted against my tongue, and before I forked in a second bite, I was on the hunt for milk.
I had the refrigerator door open when Zoe walked in, and I forgot all about what I was looking for.
“Hey,” she said, setting an empty glass on the counter. “Everything going okay in there?”
“Yeah,” I answered, shutting the stainless-steel door.
We stared at each other across the expanse of the island, and the air between us shifted, growing thicker with every second we held the contact. She was so damned beautiful. So kissable. So beyond my reach for so many different reasons I couldn’t even start to number them.
Staff. She’s on the staff. I repeated the mantra three times, trying to remember why it was I couldn’t act on my craving for her.
“So…” She tilted her head.
“So.” We’d danced around each other all morning, but there was no avoiding the impending conversation. I opened my mouth, then shut it. This was supposed to be easy, right? Then why was it so hard to say the words—to cut myself off from something I hadn’t even realized I wanted, but now…
“So, I think it goes without saying that what happened last night can’t happen again,” she stated, like she was going over today’s agenda.
“Right,” I said slowly.
“I mean, it was just for Peter’s sake, anyway.” She tucked her hair behind her ears.
“Right,” I repeated. That’s how it had started, but how it had finished was something entirely different, and we both knew it…at least, I thought we both had.
“And it’s not like there’s any chance that we would actually…” She lifted her eyebrows.
“Right.” Why the fuck did I say that? I didn’t even know what she was going to finish that sentence with, and I’d agreed?
It’s for the best. Let it go. That was the mature response.
“So, we’re okay?” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth.
“Right.” I nodded. No wonder I couldn’t write a song. I had a one-word vocabulary at the moment.
“Good talk.” She gave me a thumbs-up but stopped short of rolling her eyes at me.
“It’s fine. We’re fine. It was just a kiss.” I gripped the edge of the counter.
“Absolutely,” she agreed. “It’s not like we slept together.” She cringed. “Not that we would…or that you’d even be interested. I know I’m not—” She slammed her eyes shut, pressed her lips into a tight line, and rubbed her forehead. “I’m just going to stop talking.”
Interested? That word didn’t begin to cover the fantasies I’d had about her, but saying that was going to get us both into a shit ton of trouble, so I kept my mouth shut, exercising some of that self-control my therapist was always harping on me about.
“Let’s just forget it happened.” She sighed.
“Okay.” There was exactly zero chance of that happening. None.
Her eyes widened for a flash, but she quickly shook her head and straightened her spine. “Fine. Look, the San Francisco show is next week, and I just need to know where we’re going to be.”
“In San Francisco.” The thought of it being this awkward between us for the remainder of our time together was enough to have me reaching for a glass. Milk, I remembered. I’d come in for milk.