“I know. I saw they published my name.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I squeeze his hand. “Although, their facts aren’t one hundred percent true. I didn’t lift my skirt because you called me out in front of an audience.” I wink.
“They have no idea how hard I’m working to have you warm my bed,” he teases.
“Just don’t leave me, once I do.”
“I have no intentions of doing that. In fact, I have a feeling I’ll never want you to leave it.”
“Can you walk the walk?”
“I can do more than that.” He leans in for a kiss and moves us to the couch. “I wanted to show you this. It’s still in the beginning stages, so it’s not perfect.”
He grabs his guitar and begins to strum. His voice is gruff as he sings with nothing else but the sound of strings resonating between his fingers. He closes his eyes and his expression mesmerizes me. He transforms in front me, into a man full of emotion. Although the sound doesn’t flow completely yet, I can see that this is going to be a hell of a song. More soulful, with that unique beat that’s all Cash and Rebel Desire. Their sound being not fully traditional country, but having all the perfect aspects that country music has—traditional messages, while breaking all the rules.
Once he finishes, he stands his guitar against the sofa and looks at me. “I love it,” I say.
“Yeah? Not too cheesy?”
“It’s a little cheesy, but in a good way.”
“Thanks. I’m still working on it, but I wanted to share it with you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Now how can I get the muse for that song to give me more of herself?”
“You’re on the right track,” I whisper.
I don’t know why I’m whispering, as if I think someone will hear me and rip this apart. I know that if I continue to see Cash, I’ll be more in the public eye. Is that something I want? Why can’t we keep our relationship under wraps?
With swift movement, his body pins me against the couch and his lips devour mine. His hunger is evident as he explores every inch of my mouth. His hands keeping most of his weight off me, leaving just enough so I feel him in parts that crave him. His lips move down to my jaw and neck, nipping my skin. Then he pulls away too fast, and I’m left feeling naked and cold.
“Sorry, but if I keep going, I’m going to go all the way.” My chest rises and falls, leaving me speechless. I smile. “God, I love your smile. It drives me all types of wild.”
“Shut up and kiss me again.” I arch my back up from the couch and seek his mouth. His hand moves down from my hip to my knee, squeezing me. It’s so . . . so . . .
I moan into him, and his hand reaches back up, grabbing my butt and pulling me up to him. It’s the epitome of dry humping when he rolls his hips. Something shoots through me and I’m suddenly a feral animal. Who would’ve thought something I always mocked could be so hot. I guess, with the right guy, anything is possible.
He unbuttons my jeans with a quick snap of his fingers and inches in, my skinny jeans holding his hand hostage right where I need to feel pressure. His thumb rubs against me and I jump at the sensation. He holds me down with his weight and continues the sweet torture. I lose myself between his hand and lips, finding a much needed release. My panting is anything but sexy but I can’t seem to slow down until after I have found my release.
“I want to apologize, but I don’t feel one bit sorry.” He moves off me. I lie there and stare at the ceiling while I come down from my orgasm. “Watching you come undone is the best thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
“Thank you. No wait, that sounds bad. Um . . .” He gives me a peck and chuckles.
“You’re welcome,” he says against my lips.
“Ugh,” I groan. He lays us down on the couch as we stare at each other eye to eye in perfect comfort. My orgasm induced sleepiness starts to hit, and I yawn.
“Tired?”
“That was quite a workout.” I giggle.
“Do you want to leave?” The doubt in his question surprises me.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
“Then stay. Nothing more has to happen; I just couldn’t resist myself.”
“Are you even used to having a woman stay, with no direct action?”
“You’d be surprised about me. People can paint a picture about singers, but I’m not like some out there. I was raised to be respectful towards women.”
“Momma done good, then,” I joke.
“Yes, she did.” He smiles proudly.
“Do you see them often?”
“Yeah, I go over as much as I can. We’re a close family. My brothers are both married, so they’ll go over with their wives at least once a week for family dinner. One of them is expecting.”
“So you’re going to be Uncle Cash?”
“Hell yeah, and I’m going to teach that little nugget all about music as soon as I can.”
He’s adorable when he’s talking about everyday stuff. You can see the pride in him for where he came from, but also for where he’s going. And the thought of a man with a baby is enough to make any woman’s ovaries explode.
He tells me about growing up with his siblings and their life working their father’s farm.
“It was a lot of work, and we had to do it after school and on weekends as part of our chores, but it taught us a lot about life and responsibility.” I smile up at him. “My dad worked as well, so he led by example. He’d get home from work and, no matter how tired he was, he’d go out there and do the work that needed to be done. It isn’t a big farm, a few horses, chickens, and crops, but it is enough for him to fulfill his passion. He passed that along to us—following your passion, no matter the cost.”
“That’s important. I think it’s great he was able to do what he loved while working away from the house. When you really want something, you always find a way.”
“Absolutely.” He brushes stray strands from my face. “Your braid is a mess.”
“Thanks to you.” I smile.
“I don’t regret a thing.”
“I should go,” I say.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “I need to get an early start tomorrow, since I’ve had some distractions lately.” I wink at him. I try to stifle my yawn, but it wins out and Cash laughs.
“Thank you for coming,” he pulls me in from the waist.
“I had fun. Thanks for dinner.” I get on my toes and kiss him softly.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He opens the door to his apartment and walks me to my car. “Let me know when you get home.”
“I will. Goodnight, Cash.”
“Goodnight, beautiful.”
Cash Knight has been on my mind day and night for a few weeks now. The more I get to know him, the more I like him. Last night, I watched him perform at Jack’s Bar. The confidence those guys have on stage is admirable. He ended the set with the same song from Country Fest and winked at me as he sang out each word perfectly.
After their set, Cash took his ten minutes to reflect and then I felt his arms wrap around me from behind.
I shiver at the memory of his lips on my neck. Rubbing my eyes, I look back at my computer and try to focus. Not even my extra strong coffee is keeping me straight. I take a deep breath. I’d blame it on my daydreaming abilities, but this time my thoughts are reality.
“Liv?” I look up to see who’s asking.
“Oh, hey, Nathan.”
“Hey, I thought that was you.” I smile awkwardly. What does one do when they run into their ex-boyfriend? Do you hug hello? Handshake? Nope, I just sit there like Queen Awkward as he looks down at me.
“How are you?” I finally ask after looking at each other for a few seconds.
“Good. I just stopped by to get some coffee before work. How are you?”
“Good, doing some work.”
“Awesome. I take it you went freelance?” I nod. “Good for you. Well, I gott
a go, but it was good seeing you.”
“You, too.” I give a tight smile.
I hadn’t seen Nathan since we broke up almost a year ago. Considering how well we know each other, we shouldn’t have been so weird around each other. I know he didn’t want to end things, so that always makes it harder.
I felt like the bad guy for a long time and the guilt almost made me take him back in one of his many attempts, but the memory of what our relationship had turned into knocked sense into me. I refuse to settle for less than spectacular.
I just hope that Cash could be that spectacular I’m looking for.
Leaving the coffee shop, I receive a text message from Cash. I open it up to see an audio attached to it. When I click to listen, expecting him to speak, I get his soulful singing instead. The song he shared with me when I had dinner at his house plays, polished and flowing with the beats adding to the overall message. I smile and call him.
“That’s fantastic!” I say when he answers.
“You liked it? I wanted to give you a preview.”
“I loved it! It turned out perfectly. Congrats to you and the guys.”
“Thanks. What are you up to?”
“Headed home after an unproductive work day. Need to finish up at home.”
“Unproductive?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I told you that you were distracting me.” His laugh comes across the line.
“I’m sorry?” He offers but it’s not real. He loves that he’s on my mind. I can sense it.
“Keep it up and I’ll have to work weekends.”
“You wouldn’t be able to resist me for that long.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Are you ready to lose?” I hear a smile in his voice.
“Remember, I’m competitive by nature and you suck at mini golf.”
“You had to go there, didn’t you? Hurt my ego that way.”
“Oh, puh-lease.” I roll my eyes.
“So, you’re saying you can go without seeing my handsome face?”
“Yup, until I finish my projects and submit them. If I don’t, I’ll never get any work done.”
“Deal. I’ll definitely be winning.”
“No way. You would crack before I do.”
“Is this the best way to get our relationship going?” He asks suddenly.
I laugh. “Probably not, but the wait will make the next encounter sweeter.”
“You gonna give me some when we see each other.” I know he’s teasing, but truth is we still haven’t slept together, for whatever reason. He’s been wooing me, proving each day how sweet he really is, and I’ve been going with the flow of things. Not closing my legs, but I don’t have an open sign hanging from them either.
“You are working for it. I just got home. The sooner I finish, the sooner you see me.” He groans and we hang up.
Cash: Is this no seeing each other til you’re done also a not talking to each other deal?
Olivia: Sorry! We can talk. I’ve been catching up on work and lost track of time.
Cash: You lost track of 36 hours?
Olivia: Umm . . . yeah. How you holding up?
Cash: You really want to know?
Olivia: Hard up?
Cash: You have no idea, babe. Hurry up. I kinda miss you.
Olivia: Kinda?
Cash: If I say I miss you a lot I’d be made fun of by the guys. Ryder is reading this over my shoulder.
I laugh at his response and can imagine Ryder being all nosy as Cash writes to me. Truth is, I’ve been so tempted to call him and see him, but I’m on deadline and I’ve actually accomplished more than half my work in the last day and a half. I guess when Cash is my reward, I work faster. I type back to him.
Olivia: I’ll be mostly done by tomorrow. Do I get my reward then?
Cash: you know it ;)
I get back to work, determined to finish as much as possible so I can surprise Cash tomorrow.
I put my phone down and pick up my beer. The guys and I are taking a break before we get back to work on our set and new songs. I couldn’t help but send Olivia a small part of the new song I showed her. There’s more where that came from, but I won’t show her the rest yet. I want some of it to be a surprise.
“You got it bad, boy,” Ryder chuckles. I can’t even deny it.
“We knew that would happen. Cash is the nice guy here. Or at least the nicest one.” Jason grins.
“I think it’s great. His music is getting better,” Cole mocks.
“Fuck you guys. My music was great before. There’s a reason you all decided to join me on this crazy adventure.”
“That’s true. We’re fucking insane, but it’s so worth it,” Cole adds.
“Cheers to that, brother.” I raise my bottle. We drink and talk about the upcoming football season before going back to practice our new songs.
“How about we switch out, and use this beat in the chorus?” Jason plays a few notes on his bass guitar, adding a deeper sound than we had and Cole jumps in, both playing in rhythm and count. I listen intently and sing the chorus in my mind, tweaking where necessary to make it flow. I scratch out a few words on my notebook, substituting for what just popped up as they played. I signal for them to keep going and after an eight count, Ryder begins on the guitar.
I grab the microphone in our studio and sing the chorus with the changes and continue with the rest of the song. The sound is slower and more emotion-filled. Perfect for the theme of the song. It’s less country and more R&B with a twang.
I know my music makes me transparent with the boys. They know the words I write are words I feel and have lived, so that means they can read me clearly when I create new music. I have always been okay with that because, up until now, my music has reflected my past. This time it’s being written as I’m living it. It’s different, but I’m also not one to cover up what I’m feeling. I just hate the speculation that I’m using Olivia for the sake of my music. I haven’t lost my inspiration and I don’t want her to feel like she’s a tool I need to get ahead in my career.
We wrap up our practice and head out for some food and a few more drinks. Knowing Olivia put that deal in front of me is killing me. What is it with wanting what we can’t have? Of course, I need to keep my promise because I already lost to her at miniature golf. She’ll just rag on me if I give in. I also want her to be successful and get done with what she’s been working so hard on. I love that she’s driven and admire her passion for her work. I’m grateful she’s decided to give me her time, when I know she tends to protect it.
“How are things going with Jen?” I ask Ryder.
“Having fun.” He shrugs.
“Just don’t be a dick to her.” I warn.
“She knows what we’re doing. Besides, I think she’ll be the one to break my heart if given the chance. That woman is a spitfire,” he laughs.
“I can tell. You keep going back to her more than you have any other woman.”
“I know.” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe it himself. “Are you going to try fantasy football this season?” He changes the subject.
“I’d rather watch the games than attend to some fantasy game.”
“It’s fun,” he defends.
“So you can do it. I’m getting ready to watch stats and see how my Vols do.”
“Your Vols are no comparison to my Alabama. Keep dreaming, boy.” Ryder is a die-hard Alabama fan and alum. We actually met at a game our senior year, when his trash talk landed on me and I rebutted with as much trash. Despite our rival teams, we became friends and he called me up when he moved back to Nashville after college. He was the last addition to our band and a mighty strong one. His guitar skills are amazing and women drool over him. “Anyway, fantasy football is for the big boys in the NFL.”
“You keep me posted with your team.”
The waitress takes our orders and I laugh at Cole eyeing her. We’re a bunch of guys, mostly single since I made sure I was off the market, even if Olivia has
n’t quite labeled us yet. Eyeing women and trying to make a move on them is part of our life. It is always entertaining watching one of them play the musician card and seeing women eat it up at first.
“So, what’s the deal with Bri?” Cole asks.
I shake my head. “Stay away. She’s taken.”
“How come I never see her with a guy?”
“You mean the two times you’ve seen her?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs.
“He’s got a crush,” Jason adds.
“Her boyfriend’s deployed. That’s what Olivia told me.”
“So she needs a man to take care of her?” Cole jokes.
“Asshole,” I mutter. He laughs loudly.
“I’m kidding. I respect it. Can’t imagine what it must be like, to live like that. We get to play our music; the only concern is what they’re going to spin about us.” I nod.
Cole is right. We all sit silent for a second, each of us pensive on what he just said before Jason says, “Fuck! I’ll drink to that!” And orders another round for the table.
We have gotten used to people coming up to us while we are out and asking for our autograph or photograph. They want to know about our appearances or they share their experience watching us perform. Although we have yet to do a bigger stadium show, our performances have drawn a steady crowd so far, and our songs are slowly rising in the charts. Actually, as soon as “Know You” came out on the radio, it climbed faster than any of our other songs. I’m guessing the Country Fest outcome helped with that.
Olivia’s anger when she walked into the bar that night amused me. She looked beautiful, all messy and drunk, spitting out words and accusations that only made my dick harder. I smile to myself and am interrupted by someone.
“Hey, Cash?” The man says.
“Yeah?” I look at him and try to smile. His face is serious, and then he grins.
“Great. I thought that was you. Sorry to interrupt your boys’ night, but my girlfriend is a huge fan.”
“Cool. You want me to sign something for her?”
“That’d be great.” He pulls out a copy of our independent album. The guy seems like an asshole, but who am I to judge someone’s appearance?
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