Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(49)

I sighed and discretely covered the top sheet with my arm. “You’ll have access . . . when it’s done. When it’s perfect.”

He shook his head; the long, shaggy layers on top were irresistibly tousled this morning. The shorter layers near the bottom slightly curled around his ears, hugging them. “I don’t care about perfection.” He touched my forehead with his finger. “I care about what’s going on up there. I care about what you think.” Averting his eyes, he added in a quieter voice, “I care about what you think . . . about what happened with us.”

My heart broke when he looked back up at me. His deep blue eyes could hold so much pain sometimes. Not able to say anything, I nodded. It might hurt me, it might hurt him, but I’d stick to our pact of honesty and let him see the deepest, darkest corners of my heart, of my soul. It was only fair, since he constantly let me see his.

Kellan smiled, gave me one last kiss, then exited the control room to go record his masterpiece. Headphones were put on, instruments were plugged in, lights on the board lit up. Evan ducked into his private drum room while Kellan stepped into the vocal room. It was fascinating to watch, but after a while, it did get a little tedious. There was a lot of repetition involved in recording. The song was played several times so the best recordings could be used. By the fifth or six run-through of the song, I stopped listening and worked on my book. I got through the painful part just as Kellan and the guys were finishing up for the day.

“Ready?” Kellan asked, a gleam in his eye.

I nodded and stood up to stretch. Sitting for so long had made part of my butt fall asleep. Hazard of my chosen profession, I supposed. Kellan said goodbye to the guys in the room, who were intently listening to the song they’d just finished mixing. It sounded amazing—a million times crisper and clearer than the live version of it. Hearing Kellan’s voice so pristinely gave me goose bumps. He was going to be so huge.

Eli clasped hands with Kellan, telling him, “We’ll start on the new song after you guys have had a couple of days to practice. Cool?”

Kellan nodded, and my heart sank a little. If they were going to learn a new song that fast, then I wasn’t going to see a whole lot of Kellan. But that was okay, since neither one of us was going anywhere . . . except shopping, apparently.

The next couple of weeks were relaxing and peaceful—for me, at least. I called my parents as often as I could. Mom started crying when I sent her a picture of my new ring. Dad, just slightly less emotional, told me things like, “Now, don’t you go anywhere without Kellan, you hear me?” It made me smile that Dad now saw Kellan as my protector.

Kellan was pretty busy, though. The band learned the new song faster than I would have thought possible. Of course, they only had to learn it, not create it. Creating a fresh piece of music was a time-consuming process. I’d watched the boys debate about a thirty second song intro for three hours once. Every time I’d approached their table at Pete’s, they’d been discussing it. Well, Matt, Evan, and Kellan had been discussing it. Griffin had been trying to convince anyone who would listen that the Starbucks’s logo was kinky.

Once the band had the new song down, they started recording it. I went in every day with Kellan, new laptop in hand, and dutifully worked on my book while Kellan worked on his album. It delighted me to no end that our careers could coexist so peacefully. Kellan’s actually helped mine. His band, his music, and his voice all opened up my mind, and the words poured out of me. In fact, there were several times when he was done for the day and I wanted to keep going. But Kellan was pretty good at persuading me to put away my computer and go home with him. The art of seduction always was one of his greatest talents. Right up there with music, really.

At the end of July, Kellan and the boys were done with their portion of the album; the mixing men would finish the rest. All the guys had left to do was have their photo taken for the album cover. Kellan was morose about it on the drive to the studio. “I don’t see why we have to be on the cover. Couldn’t it be some generic photo of . . . a duck or something?”

“A duck? Really?” I questioned as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear that the wind was continuously whipping into my mouth. Darn convertible.

“What? Ducks are sexy . . . right?” Kellan gave me a sly grin. I rolled my eyes and he chuckled. “They’ve got those long, flat bills, plump bellies, wide, webbed feet.” Still grinning, he brought his eyes back to the road. “What could be hotter than that?”

Staring at the way his dark sunglasses framed his face, amplifying his attractiveness, my immediate thought was,You. Smiling at his ridiculous suggestion, I laughed out loud. “Um, just about anything.”

His perfect face swung my way. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one.”

I was just about to tell him that he would be all alone on his side of the argument when my cell phone rang. Quickly digging it out of my bag, I glanced at the screen before answering it. “Hey, Denny. How are you?”

Kellan’s eyes shifted to the front as he turned the radio down. I played with the guitar-shaped necklace around my throat while I waited for Denny’s response. It was long in coming. “I’m fine. How are you?” The concern in his accent was clear, and confusing.

“I’m great. Why do you sound weird?”

As Kellan pulled onto a side street, he flashed me a brief questioning glance. I shrugged, not knowing any more than he did. In my ear, Denny’s warm voice asked, “You’re okay . . . really okay?”