by Tessa Layne
He turned and studied her, face inscrutable. “Do you want me to stay?”
Butterflies took flight in her belly as the air between them crackled to life. “Yes,” she spoke with certainty. “Yes, I do.”
He ghosted a smile and for the quickest of seconds – so fast, she might have been imagining it – heat flared to life in his eyes. Her throat parched with wanting. They were alone… there was nothing to stop them from losing themselves in each other, nothing to stop her from jumping into his arms. Warmth rushed through her, sending licks of desire to her clit. She wanted the feel of him inside her, the fullness, the friction, the release.
As if reading her thoughts, he moved to her, stopping so close the heat radiating off him burned her. His scent overwhelmed her, masculine and earthy. Music swirled in her head as she leaned in and tilted her chin to accept his kiss. His lips moved against hers, probing, and with a sigh she opened to receive his tongue, gently sweeping against hers in a silent dance. The sweetness of it brought tears to her eyes. She would take everything this man had to offer. Even if it was only a kiss. His knuckles brushed along her cheek. “So sweet,” he murmured. Too soon, he pulled back. “Do you want some tea?”
She shook her head. “Only water right now.” He looked ready to move past her, to retreat to his office, where he’d hidden out the majority of the last few days while she’d played around with the equipment. “You’re welcome to hang out on the couch while I record. I don’t think it should take too long. I’ve done enough practicing. If she got clean recordings, she’d be done with the bulk of her work in a few hours. She could spend the rest of the night and tomorrow working on post-production.
Cash’s face filled with concern. “Your throat holding up okay?”
She tipped her head, giving a shrug. “I’ve been singing light. It feels fuzzy, but that may just be how it is from here on out. The nice thing about a setup like this is that I don’t have to belt to be heard. The mic will pick up everything.”
The old familiar pre-recording buzz of adrenaline filled her veins. Cash sat on the couch, bracing his arms on his knees, watching her curiously. She felt strangely exposed under his scrutiny. Never before had she allowed anyone to see her process. It was a part of herself she kept intensely private, as if allowing someone to observe her took some of her magic. Yet, every time she glanced over her shoulder at him, her pulse kicked up. He followed her movements with pride in his eyes. Appreciation. More importantly, respect. He respected her expertise, her artistry. And he’d never really heard her sing. She resisted the urge to crawl into his lap and put off recording for another time. As tempting as the thought was, she couldn’t put it off any longer.
Sitting on a stool she’d dragged out from the kitchen, she picked up her guitar, and adjusted the pop filter. Leaning over to a second stool she’d commandeered, she hit the space bar on her laptop, starting the recording. Her blood pumped furiously as she double checked her tuning. She cast a final glance over to Cash. The light in his eyes made her heart trip. She gave him a wink and turned back to the mic, shutting her eyes. Her fingers slid over the chords and rhythms she knew like an old friend. The music washed over her and she gave herself over to the joy of it.
When I was a child, no more’n six, Daddy’d come home, twirl mama ’round, give her a kiss…
Then he’d swing me next, give me his hand and toss me high
And Daddy said
Dance with me – under the stars of a moonless sky
Dance with me we’ll grow old together, our love will never die…
Dance with me – in the shade of the old oak tree
I’ll swing you ’round and carry you home if you’ll just Dance with me…
It didn’t matter she’d changed the words in the moment. It was still her song. And she was finally recording it the way she liked. The way she’d imagined. As she circled back to the refrain a final time, she changed up the melody, letting her voice go where it willed. She dropped her head back as the last chord died away and counted to three. Then as quietly as she could, she reached over and hit the space bar, stopping the recording. A rush of excitement flooded her, and she grinned over at Cash, who silently returned her smile with two thumbs up.
“We can talk now,” she murmured quietly.
“That was damn near perfect,” he said, awe filling his voice. “You’re something else, Kate.”
Her throat ached as a wave of emotion welled up in her chest. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
He held her gaze. “Me too.”
“The other ones might not be as polished. They’re too new.”
“I don’t believe it.”
She laughed a little self-consciously, warming under his intense stare. “Might as well make yourself comfortable, these next songs might take a while.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Her mouth spontaneously curled up. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she’d invited him to stay, but singing in front of him was so easy. Like breathing. She took comfort in his quiet support. It wouldn’t matter if she made a mistake. Sang a note not quite true, or bent a note wrong on the guitar. There would be no judgment from Cash.
“Would it help if I shut my eyes?” His voice had gone husky.
She couldn’t stop smiling at him. “Sure. Whatever you like.” She dragged her eyes away and detuned the e-string for the next piece. When she was ready, she hit record, took a breath and let her fingers fly over the strings. The months of practicing the mandolin had made her a better picker, and this song was perfect for her new skills.
Love’s a fickle lady.
She don’t stick around for long.
Gotta stake your claim, take it while you can.
’Cause when love comes dancing in, you hold on… You hold on…
Will you hold on? Build a house of love, fill it with more?
She won’t come knocking twice
I wanna make it last, I wanna hold on, hold on… Will you hold on?
She lost herself in the intricacies of the guitar part, in the way the verses wove a story of a love greater than the mountains, older than time. As the final note died away, she heard Cash’s rhythmic, relaxed breathing. Sure enough, his head was thrown back, resting on the back of the couch. In sleep, his face was softer, gentler. Poor man. She could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. She retuned, letting the recording continue to run, she could separate the tracks later.
The final songs flowed easily, and she poured her heart and soul into every word, secretly singing every love song to Cash. Whatever the future held for them, she could at least give him this gift. They might not be her cleanest recordings, her voice was huskier, and she no longer had soaring high notes. A stadium concert was permanently out of reach, but a studio album? Not so much. Especially if she recorded the songs in short bursts. Her throat ached. She’d have to spend the next couple of days recovering, but it had felt worse.
Emma’s phone number stared up at her from a pad of paper on the coffee table. Guilt niggled at her as she replaced her guitar in its case, and slowly packed up the microphones and cords. The video hadn’t been Emma’s fault, and if it really had over four-million views, maybe she could turn what felt like a disaster into something good. Reaching for her phone, she shot off a quick text to her lawyer.
K: Any word from Franco?
A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.
B: He got the message loud and clear.
K: You’re the best! :)
B: That’s why you pay me the big bucks :)
And he was worth every penny. He’d gone over her contract with a fine-toothed comb, and sent Franco DiAngelo a stern letter about frivolous lawsuits, and pointing out what clause in her contract allowed her to fire him at will.
I wonder what Helene thought of all that. She could see her mother’s face pinched with frustration at the thought. Too bad. It was time for her to run things for herself from here on out.
Taking a deep
breath, she dialed Emma’s number.
“This is Emma.”
Kate could hear the exhaustion in her voice, and her heart went out to the young woman. This whole ordeal had obviously been hard on Emma too. Taking a big breath, she jumped into the conversation before she could chicken out. “Emma, hi. This is Kate Montgomery… Kaycee Starr?”
Emma hesitated before speaking. “Yes?”
“I assume you heard from my lawyer?”
Emma let out a sigh. “Two days ago. Thank you for dropping the suit,” she said quietly.
Kate swallowed, tongue in knots and nervous energy fluttering in her chest.
Emma ended the awkward silence. “Kate, I’m so sorry. I never intended–”
“I wanted to let you know that if the offer still stands,” Kate rushed before she chickened out. “I-I’d be honored to make an appearance at the fundraiser you’re putting together in a few weeks.”
“You will?” She sounded incredulous.
“I’m not sure how good it will sound–”
“Oh you’ll be incredible,” Emma gushed. “People will be thrilled.”
“I hope so. I do ask that you keep it under wraps. Let it be a surprise to the audience. That way the ranch won’t be overwhelmed.”
“Of course, I can work with Travis and Weston on extra security measures as well.”
“I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”
“Yes?”
It had only just occurred to her while she was recording her final song, but she might as well float it and see what Emma thought. “I just finished recording four songs. I was thinking about releasing them as an EP, and donating all the proceeds to Resolution Ranch. What do you think?”
“Are you kidding?” Emma squeaked. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Tying your name to the ranch will raise its profile immensely. And you have the power to help raise significant revenue for the ranch. Having you partner with us would be a dream come true.”
CHAPTER 27
They passed the remainder of the day slowly, Kate curled up next to him in one of his sweatshirts, alternately writing in her notebook and perusing the paper he’d grabbed earlier. Cash was content to stay there, letting his mind wander and cat-napping on occasion. Neither of them wanted to address the elephant in the room. He’d put it off as long as possible, because why would he voluntarily rip his still-beating heart from his chest?
As the late afternoon light faded and the living room grew dim, he couldn’t torture himself any longer. “When are you leaving?” he asked gruffly.
Kate raised her head, giving him an unfathomable look. Her mouth drew down in a motion that arrowed straight to his soul. She bit on her top lip as her eyes filled with deep sadness. “I thought about tomorrow morning,” she whispered, face bleak.
He couldn’t begin to describe the pain that shot through him as her words registered. Like he’d lost a limb. Or his best friend. So this is what it meant to be heartsick. He nodded, unable to speak for the lump squeezing his throat shut.
She cupped his face, eyes mournful pools. “Cash, I have to face this head-on. It’s time.”
The ache was so fierce, his stomach clenched. “I see.” He didn’t trust himself to say anything more.
Emotions flickered across her face, and when she spoke, there was a little catch in her voice. “What about you?”
“Once you’re safely on the plane, I’ll head back to the ranch.” Though the thought brought him no joy, no peace. He couldn’t imagine the ranch without her sunny, sweet presence. “It’s my home for the time being. I don’t do well on my own,” he added after a long moment.
It hurt to make that admission, even after everything they’d shared. But, baby steps. “And,” he looked around the room. “Being here without you would hurt too much.” It would hurt too, bitterly, at the ranch. But at least Travis and Sterling were there and would help him stay grounded. While he might resent it, they would ensure he didn’t hole up and disappear into his head. And someone would need to look after the horses with Kate gone.
He started to speak at the same time she answered with a sympathetic noise while pressing a kiss to his jawline. “Oh, Cash.” She pulled back, eyes flicking over him. “You, first.”
He spun a lock of her hair around his finger, then slowly unwound it and tucked it behind her ear, fingers brushing along her hairline. The need to memorize every inch of her directing his movements. “I want you to know I’m only a phone call away. I’ll come running the second you need. Always.” He pressed tender kisses along the path his fingers traced.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I know. And I love you for it.”
“I feel like my heart is ripping out.” Pain stabbed through him, punctuating his words.
“Me too.” Her fingers traced a path along his jawline, as if she was memorizing him, too.
“I don’t want you to go,” he whispered.
“I can’t run anymore,” she whispered back. “And you wouldn’t want me if I did. You know that. We both have to stand on our own two feet so we can stand together.”
She was right, and he hated it. Because what if she decided this was just a fling? That he had been nothing more than a pleasant distraction while she pieced her life back together? The searing realization that she could break him, tore through him. Pushing down the fear, he cupped her face, covering her in kisses.
She shifted, angling her body toward his, and opened to him, her tongue tentatively tasting his lower lip.
“Yes,” he groaned quietly, opening to her request. She tasted like heaven. Honey and spring days, and endless sunshine. He stroked his hands down her back, needing to touch her, needing to memorize every curve, every hollow. Slipping his hands under the hem of the sweatshirt, he skated his fingers over her satiny skin, pleased to discover she wore no bra.
Kate shifted to her side, inviting him to slide his hand forward. He brushed the swell of her breast, aching at the softness of her skin, the way it tightened under him. He took her fullness in hand, memorizing the weight against his palm, the way her nipple puckered, ready for his touch. He grazed the tight peak, feeling the pulse at her neck spike under his lips. “So beautiful,” he murmured.
“Take off your shirt,” she muttered, hand fluttering across his chest.
Sitting up, he grabbed a fleece blanket from a basket next to the armrest and stood, laying it out on the floor by the windows. Then he pulled off his shirt and turned to face her, smiling in surprise at what waited for him.
Kate perched in the center of the couch, sweatshirt clutched in her hands, creamy, perfect globes punctuated with rosy buds begging for his mouth. She dropped his sweatshirt as she stood, and holding his gaze, pushed down her leggings, straightening to stand before him in nothing but a barely-there pair of see-through panties he couldn’t wait to rip off. His mouth went dry at the beauty of her.
Her eyes lit hungrily as she closed the distance between them and slipped her fingers inside his waistband, eagerly working at the button and then the zipper. His denims slipped off with a whoosh, and he stepped out of the legs, kicking them away. “I want to know every inch of you,” he murmured huskily, overcome by her beauty and her lack of pretense.
“Know me.”
“I want to taste every inch of you.”
“Taste me.”
His cock turned to steel at her comment. He would taste her and so much more.
She placed a hand on his chest. “I’m yours.” Her hand slid lower and came to rest on the bulge in his shorts, stroking him through the cotton. “And you’re mine, Cash.” She gave a gentle squeeze as she caressed his length, pulling a groan from him.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping her neck and drawing her in for a kiss, open-mouthed and possessive. She was his, and he would spend all night showing her in every way he could imagine. Her sweetness threatened to drown him, the way her tongue danced against his, thrusting and teasing. He licked at her, dimly aware of her hands squeez
ing his biceps. Twisting his fingers through her hair, he tugged, tilting her chin back to expose the pale column of her neck. His cock jerked at the beauty of her, eyes glazed, lips swollen from his kisses. He bent and started at her ear, suckling her skin, tasting her perfume and the faint saltiness of her. At the hollow of her throat, he licked and sucked until she cried out, bowing toward him, pressing her breasts against his chest.
Holding her, he lowered them both to the blanket, inviting her to stretch out beneath him. Bracing on his forearm, he lay on his side, running a palm down her length. Her hip curved perfectly into his palm. With his tongue, he traced a path from the hollow at her throat down between her breasts, bathing the swell until she arched, offering her rigid peaks for his mouth. He took her nipple deep into his mouth, running his tongue over and around as he sucked. Hard. Then gently scraped his teeth against the most sensitive part. Her hand came to his head, pressing his mouth closer. Not wanting to neglect the other, he gently rolled the peak between thumb and forefinger, giving a little tug. Her breath drew in sharply. “More?” he asked into her flushed skin.
“Yes,” she hissed.
He switched sides, repeating the same pattern until she clutched at his head, body trembling.
“I want you so much,” she whispered, head tossing side to side.
“I’m right here,” he answered, kissing his way lower. “You have me.” He kissed the softness of her belly below her navel, slowly bringing his tongue closer to the edge of those pretty lace panties. He licked over the lace, giving the hem a little bite. Then he moved lower, pressing an open kiss into her mound, and smiling as she arched her hips up, asking for more. With pleasure, he complied, wetting the lace with his tongue, as her hips rocked rhythmically. The scent of her desire perfumed the air as he caught the barest taste of her through the fabric.
He glanced up and met her eyes, dark and hooded. His baby liked to watch? Fuck, that was hot. His cock was so hard it ached, straining against his shorts. He hooked a finger through her panties at the hip and pulled roughly, the tear acting like a spark on a powder keg. “Up on your elbows if you like to watch, babe,” he uttered. “Don’t be shy.” He pushed away the fabric to feast on the vision before him, golden curls partially obscuring her pussy, swollen and slick with her arousal.
