by R.S. Grey
Jason.
He was standing at the threshold of my bedroom, rubbing the stubble on his chin with his right hand. He looked significantly more tired than he had a few hours earlier and I wondered if he ever took breaks from working.
“Oh, you were asleep,” he said, taking in my blinking eyes and nightshirt.
I tugged the hem down my legs instinctively and shook my head.
“Just dozed off for a second. What’s up?”
He cleared his throat as his gaze hit mine. “I just wanted you to know that I’ve set aside some time tomorrow morning to work with you if you have the time.”
Of course I had the time. My schedule had literally been cleared off so I could come to Montana. I had a Skype meeting with a clothing line in the afternoon, but even that could be moved around.
“That sounds good,” I said with a warm smile.
He knocked twice on the door frame and then stepped back.
“We’re even now,” he said.
I scrunched my brows. “About what?”
The right side of his sensual lips turned up. “You woke me up the other night and I just woke you up.”
“Ah.”
He turned to head back toward the third story and I was left standing there with the image of his little smirk hanging in my mind. We were so far from even. I’d woken him up with a brief phone call, but the idea of Jason Monroe was going to keep me up the entire night.
When I crawled back into bed later after I’d washed my makeup off, I found a text from Cammie waiting for me.
Cammie: Thanks for the food. We were all about to turn into zombies.
Brooklyn: I hope you got enough.
Cammie: Yeah — two of my classmates fought for the spring rolls though.
Brooklyn: You guys need to eat more. That’s not right.
Cammie: It’s like a rite of passage to be a starving grad student.
Brooklyn: Oh whatever. If you lose any more weight, I’m hooking an IV up to your dumb workstation.
Cammie: Awesome. Let’s put chicken noodle soup in it and we can hook a straw up to my mouth.
Brooklyn: You.Are.So.Weird. PS. I have a writing date tomorrow morning with Jason.
Cammie: What is a “writing date”?
Brooklyn: Oh, I just meant we’re going to try to write together tomorrow morning.
Cammie (1): Oh okay. So not a date at all, you liar.…..He’s so hot. I don’t even know how you’re going to sit by him for that long. Those lips. That voice. Sometimes he takes his shirt off on stage
Cammie (2): because he’s hot and it’s just too much to wear a shirt. Poor guy, wouldn’t want him to get overheated. Will you take a close up picture of his eyes so I can see what they look like?
Cammie (3): I think they’re like a rich dark brown but it’s hard to tell.
Brooklyn: OMG. Stop. You’re blowing up my phone with texts about his dumb eyes.
Cammie: fine. Night. Let me know when to expect my chicken noodle soup IV. PS. Wiki says his eyes are brown. Mmm like Belgian chocolate.
Chapter Eight
I woke up the next morning to a text message from Cammie that included a Photoshopped picture of me and Jason. The little devil didn’t have time to go get dinner, but she apparently had all the time in the world to whip up prank photos. I glanced down at the photo in its full-color HD glory. There was Jason performing on stage without his shirt on, just like Cammie told me he was wont to do, except she’d cropped me into the photo in a compromising pose. I was bent forward, licking Jason’s sweaty chest while he kept right on singing. I had no clue where she’d found that picture of me, but I suspected it was from one of our nights where we stayed in and had one too many bottles of wine. After much deliberation, I decided to keep the photo saved to my phone just for research purposes. Of course.
I didn’t bother texting Cammie back because the message would have just been filled with random curse words and a suggestion of where she could shove a pineapple. Instead, I stretched out in my comfy bed and then I pushed out from beneath my warm blankets to start the day. I knew it was going to be chilly, so after my shower, I wrapped myself in another sweater and paired it with jeans and heeled ankle boots.
When I journeyed downstairs after getting ready, I found the house deserted, save for the delicious aroma of fresh coffee. That smell was like my crack and it pulled me toward the kitchen where I found a note from LuAnne propped up on the counter.
Made you some breakfast. Help yourself, love Lu. PS. There’s a bottle of Bailey’s in the fridge…in case that’s how you roll.
I laughed and placed the note back where I’d found it. The universe would have loved for me to get drunk on my morning cup of coffee. It would have given Jason one more reason to hate me. He’d be trying to write a song and I’d be throwing up on his carpet. Classy.
In the fridge I found a bowl of fresh fruit and on the counter under a tiny heat lamp, there was a plate piled high with bacon and sausage. I loved meat as much as the next girl, but if I started each day off with bacon while in Montana, I’d be heading back to LA in a pair of Derek’s XL sweat pants.
After I’d gathered all the essentials, I sat down at the table where LuAnne and I had eaten dinner the night before. In the morning light, the view from the kitchen windows was even better. As I ate my breakfast, I peered through the glass and noticed there were several paths that led from the base of the house up into the forest. Maybe after lunch I could get in a decent hike.
Maybe I’d find a wilderness man chopping down wood topless and he’d need water. I’d, of course, give him a sip of mine and we’d strike up a conversation about how we’re both dog lovers, but our lifestyles never allowed us to get one of our own. We’d fall down into the brush of the forest and we’d make love to—
“Morning, Brooklyn.”
Oh God, I nearly choked on the piece of fruit I’d been chewing while fantasizing. But I recovered nicely, and by the time I turned around to see Derek piling his plate with food, I knew my face wasn’t as bright red as it’d been a moment before.
“Hi Derek,” I said with a welcoming smile.
He plopped down across from me with enough food on his plate to feed a small group of starving grad students. He probably worked it all off on the ranch each day. I mean, I knew he did because the cowboy was fit.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, trying to make polite conversation.
“Oh, yeah. That bed in the guest room is really comfortable.”
He nodded, “That’s good. It didn’t used to be a guest room, but Jason had it done up before you arrived. I think he used to store guitars or something in that room.”
“Oh, really?” I asked.
That seemed like a thoughtful thing to do. I could have just taken the couch or something. I’m sure it would have been comfortable enough.
“Yeah, said something about ‘a pop princess’ and ‘beauty sleep’,” he answered with a little smile.
I groaned. Thoughtfulness ruined.
Derek must have picked up on my annoyance because he changed the subject. “Do you have some time after breakfast to come out and see the barn and stable? I can show you our new horse and the other animals.”
“Oh, yeah. Okay,” I smiled. I already had plans to inspect the grounds by myself later, but his option seemed better. I didn’t think Jason was even awake yet, and we hadn’t set up a time to start writing, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to peek outside with Derek.
After I’d finished my granola and yogurt, and Derek had wolfed down his food (which probably equated to three small pigs), we headed outside. I was expecting to be greeted by a brisk chill, but the blast of wind that hit me as I walked down the front path had me wrapping my arms around my chest. My damn sweater had too many holes to actually keep me warm, but it was too cute to get rid of.
Derek led the way around the side of the house, following a loose gravel path. The sounds of the animals could already be heard and I wondered if they would reach my room if I ope
ned my windows in the morning. I could wake up to the sounds of horses and chickens. Wait, who am I kidding, I’m not that ‘one with nature’.
“So the barn is up there on the right. We have a few pigs and chickens in there,” he said, pointing to the first wooden structure. “And just beyond that is the horse stable.”
“Oh! Can we go inside the stable?” I asked, anxious to see the horses. I’d ridden once or twice as a girl, but never as an adult. It was definitely on my bucket list though. Well, riding bareback with a sexy man… then after we were done, we’d saddle up and actually go horseback riding. Hah.
“Sure. Let’s go,” he said, resting his hand on the small of my back to steer me toward the building.
The stable itself was nearly twice the size of the barn. A massive wooden door was already pushed to the side. Just beyond the entrance, the gravel path turned into a cobblestone floor. On each side there were rows of stalls, maybe eight in all. They were spacious and open on the top with black metal bars that let us peek inside to see the horses. The stable was impeccably clean, but that aroma of horses was impossible to ignore. I loved it.
“I’ve already fed them this morning, but I’ve got some sugar cubes in the office. I’ll be right back,” he said, turning and heading toward a door near the entrance, which led to what I assumed to be the office. I turned back toward the stables and crept forward hoping to get a good look at the horses. The first stall on the right was occupied by a small white horse who was sticking its nose out on top of the black bars, anxious to see who’d just entered the stable. I stepped forward tentatively and held my hand out to see if the horse would scare. It pushed its body against the door even more, trying to get to my hand. I laughed and stroked its cheek. Its mane was brushed free of tangles and it felt so soft to pet that I stood there for a few minutes rubbing back and forth before Derek came back out of the door.
“Sorry about that, I couldn’t find any. I’ll have to grab some at the store when I run into town later.”
I smiled, keeping my hand on the horse. “No worries, I think this one likes me even without the sugar cubes.”
He laughed, “That’s Dotty. She’ll love anyone who will give her a bit of attention. Don't expect the same from Jason Jr. though.”
“Aw man,” I said, suddenly feeling much less special. For a second I thought I’d been a horse whisperer.
Derek took me down the aisle of horses, introducing each one to me until we finished up at the end where there was a black horse sticking close to the back wall. I knew right away that the horse was Jasper, the Arabian gelding that Jason had told me about the night before. (Aka Jason Jr.) His coat was a deep, shiny black and his mane was just as dark and glossy. He held his head high, but didn’t make a move to greet us.
“This is our newest one. We got him a couple months ago and I still haven’t quite figured him out yet,” Derek said, propping his elbows up on the stall.
“He’s gorgeous.”
“Yeah, he is,” a voice said from across the stable. I whipped my head around to see Jason standing near the door with his hands shoved in the front pockets of his dark jeans. The morning light silhouetted him from behind and I stood motionless for a moment, unsure of what to do. Oh, jeez. Was I not allowed to look at his precious horse?
“Mornin’ Jason,” Derek said, pushing off of Jasper’s stall and nodding toward his boss.
Jason dipped his head in greeting but didn’t offer anything more as he strolled toward us. He was wearing a white long-sleeved Henley shirt. He’d tugged the sleeves up to his elbows and his dark expression was aimed straight at me. I swallowed hard as I waited for whatever he clearly wanted to yell at me about. That morning it could have been nearly anything. Maybe I’d snored in my sleep and woken him up. Maybe I was just breathing wrong and it was pissing him off.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, stopping a few feet in front of me.
I frowned. “I came out here after breakfast. Derek wanted to show me the place,” I explained, looking to Derek for back-up. He was eyeing Jason with a curious brow, but didn’t offer any backup. Gee, thanks.
“Did you forget about our plan to write this morning?” he asked, his brows furrowed in annoyance.
“No,” I said, meeting his attitude head on. "I was just about to head back inside.”
He nodded once, glaring at Derek, and then he moved past me toward Jasper’s stall. He clicked his tongue twice and the horse shook out its mane and walked slowly toward the front of the stall. Jason reached his hand out and Jasper gently rubbed his head against it, emitting a low rumble through his nostrils that made Jason smile.
Derek and I just stood there, watching him. It was a side of Jason I wasn’t used to seeing. What was it about the horse that Jason was drawn to and vice versa? Were they just both brooding types that called to one another? Maybe that’s why Jason hated me. I wasn’t exactly quiet or contemplative.
After another minute, Jason stepped away from Jasper’s stall and started heading toward the door of the stable.
“Coming?” he asked over his shoulder.
Derek and I exchanged an amused glance and then I trotted to catch up to him, my high-heeled boots clacking against the cobblestone floor. Just as I was about to catch up, the heel on my left shoe got caught in-between two cobblestones and I fell forward, smack dab into Jason. (Picture my face squashed against his back.) He grunted as our bodies collided, and then he turned quickly to wrap an arm around my shoulder to steady me.
His dark eyes were inches away from mine and I thought of what Cammie had said the night before. She was absolutely right. It was his eyes that pulled me closer. It was his eyes that made my breath pause as I tried to take them in as quickly as possible. It felt like I was getting a glimpse into a world that didn’t belong to me, but I wanted more. Just a little bit more.
“Don’t you have other shoes to wear?” he asked, pushing me back to stand on my own.
I was a twenty-seven year old woman and Jason had an uncanny ability to make me feel like I was five again. With a hard scowl and a whip of my blonde hair, I brushed past him and made sure to walk as sexy as I possibly could on my high-heels. I’d wear them every day if I wanted to; he could go fuck himself.
I heard Derek chuckle on the other end of the stable, but Jason didn’t say a word as he followed me back to the house.
I’d assumed we’d go up to the third floor to write. I knew that’s where he kept his instruments because they weren’t anywhere else in the house. But instead, when we made it to the second story landing, he pointed to the wraparound porch.
“I’ll meet you out there. Get some paper and a pen,” he ordered before he took the third-story stairs two at a time and disappeared.
I purposely ignored his instructions and went out on the porch with my hands empty and chin raised. Jason might rule over everyone else in his life, but he wasn’t my boss and he sure as shit wasn’t going to order me around and expect me to follow his instructions blindly.
The porch, of course, was styled like the rest of the house with dark brown wicker furniture topped with plush white pillows and cushions. I chose a small two-seater couch and relaxed back into the cushions just as Jason pulled open the porch door. I glanced up to see him with a guitar in his right hand, a pad of paper in his left, and a pen stuck behind his lips. Even if he was annoying me, the sight was too cute not to elicit a smile. Even just a little, private one.
He sat across from me so that we were separated by the coffee table. It was a smart move considering how much tension was brewing between us. He threw down the pen and paper onto the coffee table, adjusted his guitar over his lap, and then finally glanced up to find me empty handed.
“Did you forget to pack a single pen in all of your twelve suitcases?” he asked with an arched brow.
“Nope,” I answered. “But I don’t need one.”
He smirked. “Is that so?”
“I have a good memory.”
He grunted
and then reached for his pen and pad. Silence hung before us and then he glanced back up to me.
“So I’m assuming they want us to write a love song.”
I laughed, a bark of a laugh, because the idea of co-writing a love song with Jason seemed like the funniest idea in the world.
“My thoughts exactly,” he replied, tapping his pen on the paper.
“We could write a break-up song?” I suggested.
He nodded, staring out beyond the porch. “That could work.”
“Are we actually agreeing on something?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Jason didn’t respond. He picked up his guitar, absentmindedly strumming the strings. I felt an instant pang of envy. I’d been taking guitar lessons for the past ten years, and I was good, good enough to play on stage, but Jason was a natural. His fingers worked the guitar strings like he was born to do it.
“Okay, let’s just start throwing out some ideas, things we’d want the song to sound like,” I suggested.
He arched a brow, his fingers eternally strumming the guitar. “That’s not how I usually write.”
I smiled tightly. “Well, we’re going to have to compromise.”
“Sounds good. You go in the other room and talk to yourself and I’ll just write the song by myself,” he said with a confident smirk. Oh, wasn’t he just the funniest thing ever.
“Let’s write a song about a guy who is an arrogant asshole,” I said.
He shook his head with a smug, unimpressed look.
There was a knock on the porch door and then a moment later, a perfectly coifed LuAnne stepped out wearing her standard preppy. Her hair was curled and poufy like she was hosting a southern dinner party, but she pulled it off well. In her hands there was a polished silver tray with tea and snacks arranged artfully on a china plate.
“How’s the writing going?” she asked with a wide smile as she glanced between us. Her smile faltered when she saw our matching scowls.
“Really well,” I lied, reaching for the glass of water.
“Great,” Jason said.
LuAnne’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? What do you have so far?”
