Make Me Yours(26)

“What?”

“Lillie has a great ear for music. She never gets off key, and she keeps the tempo steady, even a capella. That’s really huge for a four-year-old.”

Not what I expected, although I like hearing it. “I thought all children could sing those songs. They all seem to.”

“Um, no. Most little kids are all over the place. Lillie’s special.” Her voice turns soft. “Like you.”

An unexpected compliment. It sends my mind flying down that old familiar rabbit hole, but she changes direction quickly. “What kind of band were you in? Rock and roll?”

“Classic country.”

She almost chokes on her sip, covering her mouth and laughing. “No way!”

“Way.”

“You are a very unexpected man, Remington.”

“Call me Remi.” I give her a wink and polish off my glass. “I’m sure you wouldn’t know a song on our set list.”

“Ha! That’s where you’d be wrong.” She points her finger as she polishes off her wine. I reach for the bottle and pour us each another glass. “My mom is a huge classic country fan. It’s how I got my name.”

Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “You’re named after the Kenny Rogers song?”

“I am indeed. Ma loves it. She’s fascinated by the Asian war angle.”

“It’s kind of depressing.” I sip my wine, thinking about the lyrics. “Ruby leaves her crippled husband at home to cat around in town.”

“First, it’s not clear he was her husband.” She’s counting off on one hand, holding her wine in the other. Absolutely adorable. “Second, a woman her age has wants and needs.”

“Still, she leaves him to… take her love to town.” I cock an eyebrow, and she raises hers as she sips her wine. “We should have dinner with your mom. I’d like to discuss our shared love of Kenny.”

“Do you love Kenny Rogers?” She gives me a skeptical look, and I take her hand, singing the first line of his song…

“Everyone considered him the coward of the county…”

She laughs, and it’s sort of magical. We’re out on the flagstone patio under the stars, singing, drinking wine under the moon with the lake gleaming behind us. I want her to sit beside me so I can put my arm around her shoulders and pull her close, kiss her head, her lips…

“My favorite is The Gambler.”

“He made a life out of reading people’s faces.” I study hers, wondering if I’m reading it right. If so…

“I thought it was weird how they made a whole TV series out of that song. It’s really sad. He dies.” She whispers that part as if it’s a secret.

“He broke even.”

A breeze filters through, sweeping a long dark wave over her shoulder. Her chin drops, and I’m fascinated by her. She’s so pretty. When she looks up at me again, her eyes are deep, like she’s contemplating telling me something.

“What?”

“You said you don’t want to be like your father, but when you sing, when you listen to your daughter sing and love it, you’re already not like him.”

Her words flood my chest with warmth. “You said you’ll help me be sure I’m not.”

“I will.” She smiles and stands. “If I can keep my vision of you clear.”

I stand with her, and we’re face to face again, close. “What does that mean?”

She puts her hand on my chest. “It means you tend to cloud my vision.”

I put my hand over hers, loving the flow of electricity between us. “How do I do that?” My voice is low, confident.

“You’re a good man, Remi, and you’re so sweet to your daughter.” Her chin lifts and the moon bathes her face in silver. “When you look at me, I find it very hard to be objective.”

“Objectively, I enjoy looking at you, so good to know.”

She exhales a laugh, taking a step back. “Sing me your favorite Kenny Rogers song.”

“Wow… okay… I have to think about that one.” I set my wine glass on the table, retracing our conversation, the things she said. Then I have it. “She believes in me. I’ll never know just what she sees in me…”

I hold the note and her eyes close. “Mm… that’s nice. You have an amazing voice.”

Her eyes blink open slowly, and when they meet mine, I want to carry her to my bedroom.

I’m caught off guard by what she does next. She steps forward, and the hand on my chest slides higher to my collar. At the same time, she places her other hand on my cheek. Before I’m fully aware of what’s happening, she rises on her toes and lightly presses those full, pouty lips to mine.

It’s a closed-mouth kiss, but my hands are on her at once, pulling her closer, sliding higher to hold her face, threading my fingers in her silky hair, as I open her mouth with mine.

She makes a little noise when our tongues touch and curl together, and heat floods my torso, centering in my pelvis. I’m instantly hard, and God, I want her in my bed. She tastes like expensive dry wine, and she smells like heaven.

Sliding my arms around her, I can’t help noting how perfectly she fits against my body, shoulder to chest to stomach. I chase after another, deeper kiss, but she turns her face, pressing her palms against me.