You'd Be Mine(74)

I nod, imagining him laid out on the floor, passed out and bleeding. “They’re inducting her into the hall of fame and want me to sing in her stead.”

He whistles low. “Are you?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t figure a way out of it that didn’t make me out to be bitter and all emo. Thought I should probably come out here and test the waters before getting onstage in front of millions and singing her praises.”

“And how’d that work out?”

I hold out a scraped-up, dirt-and grass-stained hand featuring chipped fingernails and bruised knuckles. “Better than I’d thought, actually.”

He chuckles low, and my head bounces. He takes my messed-up hand in between both of his and gently cradles it. I thought I was cried out. I was wrong.

He doesn’t say anything, just lets me sniff in silence, my hand in his.



* * *



He follows me back to my new place and pulls into a spot next to mine. I walk ahead, leading him through the entrance and past a doorman to whom I give a small wave. We stand apart in the elevator, quiet but not uncomfortable. Someone gets on the floor below mine, and Jefferson tugs down the brim of his hat automatically. I reach for his hand and give a single squeeze. He releases his breath.

The bell dings for my floor, and I pull him to my front door before taking out my keys. “It’s not as cozy as my gran’s place,” I start to explain. “I just moved in a few weeks ago and haven’t bothered to decorate or anything.”

“No judgment here, believe me. I’m still using my grandmother’s dishes. Lindy and Layla are moving in next month when their lease is up, so my house is currently 1950s housewife meets the modern toddler.” His eyes crinkle happily at the corners.

I push open the door and kick off my shoes before reluctantly releasing his hand to remove my coat, tossing it on the back of the stiff leather couch Connie ordered for me.

“I didn’t know Lindy and Layla were moving in. That’s amazing,” I say. Everyone needs family to come home to. “How are they? Lindy texted me a few months back. We made a date for coffee when I make it back to Indiana.”

Jefferson shrugs off his coat, and my eyes take in his broad shoulders and scruff. Mercy, he’s good-looking. It seems I’ve lost my immunity all over again. I hadn’t the wherewithal to notice while I was having my graveyard breakdown, but in the small space of my studio loft, it’s hard not to notice. “Jesus, take the wheel,” I mutter before clearing my throat.

Just be cool.

“Give me a sec,” I say. I dip into my tiny bathroom to splash warm water on my face to rinse away my tears and makeup and swig some Listerine. Adding a touch of gloss to my lips before rushing back out. “Sorry. I could still taste the meltdown. You were saying?”

“Yeah, the house sits mostly empty except for me and my dog and Fitz whenever he isn’t shacking up with Kacey. Plus, I’ve re-signed with SunCoast, so I’ll be back on the road soon enough. It’ll be good to have the house lived in and loved. Should have done it years ago, honestly.”

My eyes dart to his. “Back up. You re-signed? Really?”

He scratches at his neck, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, I really did. Apparently, someone slipped some exec a clip of my new songs, and they want me back. Wonder who might do something like that?”

I press my lips together, opening my eyes wide. When I think I can pull it off, I shrug. “Probably Trina.”

“Trina’s in Cancún with her fiancée, Melody. Has been for a month, making up for lost time.”

“Oh … right.” I drop the pretense. “Okay, it was me. Are you mad?”

“Nah. They’re letting me start fresh. They like my new sound, and they sure as hell prefer me sober. I’m grateful. Truly.”

My shoulders relax. “They aren’t the only ones who love your new songs. I think I’ve played that clip of ‘Better Man’ a thousand times. It’s a beautiful tribute.” He nods once, shyly, and I can’t help but tease. “Think you might want to head out on tour with me this summer? Opening, of course.”

“Obviously,” he quips, giving me a lopsided smile, and suddenly I can’t look at anything but his mouth. “Can I get back to you? I’m … taking it a bit at a time. I’m not worried about backsliding, but I want to make sure the girls get settled in and—”

I cut him off with my lips. I’ve waited long enough. Honestly, I’m impressed I made it this long.

It takes him half a second before he responds in earnest, engulfing me with his arms and fisting at the shirt on my back. My fingers thread through the longish sandy waves at the nape of his neck and push off his baseball cap as my tongue dances past his lips. We kiss until we’re both breathless, and then I lower onto my feet as his lips chase me down, pecking softly once, twice, three times, before his hands relax their grip and his arms drape in a comfortable hug. I tuck my head into the perfect pocket of his collarbone and inhale, filling my lungs with him.

“Thank you for today, Jefferson,” I whisper. “You were right. I didn’t think I wanted anyone, but I actually just needed you.” He responds by tightening his hold for a minute and then releasing me again. I tug him over to my couch.

“Want tea? Water? Expired milk?”