Brand New Sky

by Heidi Hutchinson

  But she wasn't listening. Well, she was, because she totally heard him, but she was going to ignore him. Possibly forever. That was okay, she decided. She was good at ignoring people. She would just go back to her quiet life of sugar-less chocolate cake and general distrust of the human population.

  Clive was waiting for her at her front door and she didn't even slow down as she yanked open the screen door and jetted into the house.

  The warm lighting of the kitchen, the smooth sound of Sinatra, the beeping of the oven finishing its preheating process did little to make her relax. Her hands grasped the knot on the top of her head and she closed her eyes.

  “I'll just drive to the store and buy sugar,” she declared soundly.

  “That would be such a waste, since I just jacked this expensive looking canister from Tawny's countertop.”

  Ryan whirled around to find Sway standing in her foyer, the definition of innocence on his face. Clive gave him a singular wag of his tail. Ryan's eyes cut to her dog.

  “You are the worst guard dog in the history of your breed,” she said.

  “It's not his fault, I have a very disarming persona,” Sway said with a half-grin.

  Ryan slowly took in a breath. “Okay,” she finally said, smoothing down the stray hairs on both sides of her face. “This is weird. What are you doing here?”

  Sway's face gentled in a way that she couldn't explain. His features softened and it was almost like he pulled back a little bit. Not physically, because he didn't move, but... yeah, physically. She felt him shift a half of a step back.

  “You're right,” he said politely. “I overstepped. I'll just...” He looked around and decided on her coffee table. “Leave this here. You can return it when Tawny gets back.”

  Ryan frowned, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Wait,” she said, more to her own brain then to Sway, but he did as told, slowly sliding his hands into his pockets.

  “Just gimme a minute, yeah?” she said. Her mind scrambled for a way to fix the situation. Logically, from the outside, it wasn't that bad. She was the one who was making it weird. For all she knew, this was exactly how neighbors treated each other. The only point of reference she had was Tawny, who came and went as she pleased, but was often out of town for months at a time.

  “Okay,” she said, having decided. “Thank you for the sugar. Would you like to stay while I make the cake?”

  Sway's smile was brighter than she thought possible and she got distracted for a second at the brilliance of it.

  It was so... genuine.

  “I would love to,” he said brightly. But it was off. He'd taken another step back... figuratively.

  She frowned. She knew she was frowning, but didn't stop herself. “Right then,” she mumbled to herself before picking up the sugar canister, spinning on her toes, and returning to her kitchen.

  From her peripheral, she saw Sway look around the living room but he made no attempt to further his progress into the house.

  “Just sit down or something, you're going to make me nervous,” she hollered over a shoulder.

  Again with the bad ideas, she chastised herself silently. No way was she going to be able to return to writing after this. Making the cake was her go-to. Now it was forever tainted. Though, could having Sway burned into her brain connected to chocolate cake really be considered “tainted”?

  “You see something you like?” Sway asked, startling her back to reality.

  “What?” she asked, her shoulders stiffening as she frowned at him.

  His full lips gave a sly knowing smile. “You were staring.”

  “I was not,” she protested with a snort.

  “You were,” he said leaning against the door frame of the kitchen and looking entirely too at home in her home. Like he belonged there. Like he had been standing there since the beginning of time, and the house had been built around him. “You were staring and then you said, 'mmm.'”

  Ryan's face flushed instantly and she faced the other direction, busying her hands with her ingredients and mixing bowls. “I have no idea why you would even suggest that.”

  Sway's chuckle was deep and adorable. He wasn't allowed to be adorable in her kitchen. The kitchen was not the place for that kind of chicanery.

  “How do you know Tawny?” she asked, staying busy with her cake recipe. Butter. Focus on the butter.

  “High school,” he answered. “But we keep in contact. Sometimes we end up in the same places during tour. It's a good opportunity to catch up.”

  “Tour?” she asked, not looking away from the measuring of the sugar that started this whole thing.

  “Yeah, I'm in a band. It's not a big deal.” He shrugged. “I tried flirting with her a long time ago, but—”

  Ryan couldn't stop the laugh that burst out of her. She grinned at him widely. “I'm guessing that went well.”

  Sway smiled and shook his head. “No, she's not one to... appreciate that sort of thing.”

  Ryan cocked her head to the side and studied him for a second. “Are you the rock star?”

  His smile faded just enough for her notice, but he nodded. “Has she mentioned me?”

  Ryan lifted an eyebrow and began to cream together the sugar and butter. Tawny had mentioned the rock star. Enough times that Ryan had considered basing a character on him, but she hadn't gotten around to it. Yet.

  “I take that as a yes,” he said with a sigh.

  Ryan simply smiled.

  “Well, whatever she told you is probably all true,” Sway added.

  “What if it's not?” Ryan asked.

  Sway shrugged. “It's Tawny. She's not one to sensationalize the truth.”

  Ryan looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed... resigned to whatever had been said about him. As if he expected the worst and had no intention of defending it.

  Interesting.

  “She said you liked women,” Ryan said blandly, scraping the sides of the bowl and tapping the rubber spatula on the side before setting it down. She reached for a paper towel and wiped off her fingers before opening the egg carton.

  “I do like women,” Sway answered softly.

  She wanted to look at him, but managed to focus on cracking open her eggs like it was the most important thing in the world. “What do you like about them?” she asked curiously.

  Sway was quiet for a long time, watching her work.

  “Everything.”

  ***

  Sway wondered what she knew. He wondered what opinions of him had already been formed and why oh why was she still making a cake when she should be kicking him out of her fabulous house.

  It was warm and welcoming, and he wished like hell that Tawny's would burn down in the middle of this moment so that he could stay forever.

  Her hands measured and mixed and moved things around hypnotically. She had really pretty hands. He could stare at those hands for hours.

  Her lithe body, clearly showing that she was a client of Tawny's, moved fluidly, almost like cake baking was a dance. A dance he wouldn't mind cutting in on just to see her eyes flare and her lips part.

  He really did like everything about women. Especially those rare ones that captured his attention, pulled him in, and then kept him guessing.

  She dumped the cake mix into the waiting pans, then looked at him expectantly, her eyebrows raised in question.

  “What's that?” he asked.

  “I asked if you wanted to lick the spoon,” she repeated, a cute smirk playing on her lips. Flirting again? He got the impression she had no idea she was doing it. She probably thought she was just being friendly. Which was still a big move. He'd take it. Not only would he take it, he'd encourage it.

  He rubbed his palm against his stomach. “I better not, trying to watch my figure.” Her eyes followed the movement of his hand and he saw the blush hit high on her cheeks again. “I'll wait for the finished product.”

  “Suit yourself,” she replied with a surprising wink and then her pink tongue
darted out and she licked the spoon.

  She had no idea.

  He knew it as solidly as he knew that even if he left now, this little attraction he'd quickly developed wouldn't just fade away.

  If this had been four years ago and she had been anyone else, Sway knew exactly what his response would have been. And they'd have an amazing week together and then part as friends.

  Since it wasn't the past, and she wasn't just anyone—good freaking grief, she wasn't just anyone—he willed his body to remain relaxed, keeping his face politely impassive.

  The moment she turned around to slide the cake pans into her oven, he was gifted with a look at her perfect heart-shaped rear end in those yoga pants.

  Shit.

  He managed to get his eyes back to her face by the time she turned back around. Maybe now they could sit down and talk some more. Maybe he could get out of her what Tawny had said about him. Maybe she'd come to her senses and use the same tone on him that she had used on Beardy earlier that day.

  “Do you always listen to Sinatra when you're baking?” he asked. He loved Sinatra, they had a lot in common.

  The doorbell interrupted him, and her frown concerned him. Clive stood up on the couch and let out a low growl.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Sway asked, standing up straight and following her out of the kitchen to the front door.

  “No.”

  Peeking through the peephole, she sighed at whoever it was on the other side. Sway's question was answered when she pulled the door open and wide and Liam and a woman with short dark hair stood on her porch.

  The bearded man's beady eyes made a sweep of Ryan's appearance and Sway had to fight back the urge to punch him in the mouth.

  “Cathy and Liam,” Ryan greeted with about as much enthusiasm as Carl had when he'd had to explain to the band what it meant to “practice good hygiene.”

  “How are you feeling, RyRy?” the woman asked, her concern so perky that it reminded Sway of a meercat popping out of her hole in the ground. “Liam said you weren't feeling well—oh! You have company. You must be feeling better.” That last part sounded like she hadn't believed that Ryan had been sick for a minute.

  “Yeah,” Ryan answered, politely dry. “Must have been a twelve hour thing. I feel a lot better.”

  “That's great,” Cathy said, her smile so large Sway had to wonder if it hurt. She looked back and forth between Sway and Ryan, clearly wanting the introduction.

  Ryan started to run her hand through her hair, stopped when she realized it was in a knot, and then smoothed the loose sides down and behind her ears. Nervous gesture.

  “Hi, I'm Maurice Manchester, her accountant,” Sway introduced himself, extending his hand.

  Cathy took his hand as her smile stiffened and her mouth fell open slightly. Sway shook it and then offered it to Liam, who had managed to make his beady eyes even smaller as they squinted at him.

  “Accountant...?” Cathy asked, confused.

  “Yep,” Ryan confirmed, rolling with it. “I haven't been paying my taxes and I might go to jail. So if you could let us get back to our business meeting...?”

  Cathy looked completely bewildered, but bless her heart if she wasn't trying to act like she knew exactly what was happening.

  “Right, of course,” she said, buoyantly. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Unless you know a good place to launder money, I doubt you can help me,” Ryan said, then closed the door on Cathy's shocked expression.

  Ryan slapped one hand over her mouth as she rested her forehead on the thick wood and waited. They heard the car doors close and the engine start. She dropped her hand, biting her bottom lip through her smile and turned her brown eyes to Sway.

  “That. Was. Awesome.”

  Sway grinned, more pleased with himself than he probably should be. But that smile of hers so too entirely rewarding. “Occasionally I'm quick on my head-foot.”

  “You've definitely earned your cake,” she said seriously.

  “I take it you don't like Cathy so much,” Sway guessed.

  Ryan rolled her eyes and then walked back to the kitchen. “I don't want to talk about her. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Ryan turned the water on in her sink and looked over her shoulder at him. “Yeah, I assume I'll be seeing you a lot since we're neighbors and all. I mean, you just lied to the meanest girl in school. That means we're practically besties.”

  Chapter 4

  Little Bird

  Sway knew he laughed harder at her than was probably appropriate. But it couldn't be helped. She was funny. Her sarcasm caught him off guard because it was so natural sounding but completely unexpected.

  “So,” he said after his laughter had quelled and he'd finished enjoying her pleased smile. He trailed a finger along the bookshelf at the back wall in her living room. “You write books.”

  “I do,” she said, still moving about in the kitchen.

  “What's that like?” he asked, not seeing her name on any of the spines. Most of them were classics: Hemingway, Austen, Dickens, Lee, Fitzgerald, Wilde, Keats, Whitman. But they didn't look like display books. They were worn and tattered. Some of the titles unreadable because they'd been rubbed off from being in hands that paged through them and loved them the way books are meant to be loved.

  “Oh, it's awful and wonderful and the hardest thing I could have possibly decided to do with my life,” she answered distractedly.

  Sway gently tugged a hardcover off of the shelf and had to hold it with both hands to keep the book intact. Jack London's Call of the Wild.

  “Have you read it?”

  He looked up to see Ryan leaning one shoulder against the door frame of the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest. The light from the kitchen highlighting her exposed neck elegantly. Her dark eyes studied him seriously, like he was a problem that needed a solution.

  She wasn't just hot. She wasn't just good-looking or attractive. She was beautiful. Classically, elegantly, mysteriously.

  Dangerously.

  For him.

  “Not since I was a kid.” He lifted the book and his eyebrows. “This one seems to have gotten around, though.”

  She nodded. “It's a favorite.”

  “Can I borrow it?”

  She visibly flinched, one side of her mouth twitching up before settling in a flat line.

  “Never mind,” he said quickly. “I'll just get my own copy.”

  Ryan swallowed and took a deep breath. “You can read it while you're here.”

  “I'd rather talk to you while I'm here,” Sway said, slowly closing the book and returning it to its place on the shelf.

  “What if I'm not in the mood to talk? What if I'm busy working?” she asked, her dark eyes flashing behind her even darker eyelashes.

  “Maybe I shouldn't bother you while you're working,” he said deciding she was too far away and he suddenly needed to be a lot closer to her.

  He took four slow strides and stopped inches away. She held her stance, though he saw her pulse rate increase by the flutter in her neck.

  “Why is it a favorite?” he asked, memorizing the flare of her eyes, the curve of her cheek, the pink hue of her naked lips.

  Her delicate eyebrows dipped suspiciously. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Curiosity,” he said softly.

  “I guess... I relate to Buck. As weird as that sounds.” It was an honest answer. One she wasn't accustomed to sharing. He could tell because of the way she braced for a response. Like she expected him to misunderstand.

  “The dog?”

  Something shifted in her eyes, a spark of interest or maybe it was distrust. “Why did you only read it once?”

  “I've been busy,” he said with a half-smile.

  She mirrored his expression and added a head tilt. “Busy? Doing what? Being the rock star?”

  His grin was reflexive. He loved that his occupation was more of an irritant to her than something to s
woon over. And for some reason being called a “rock star” didn't bother him coming from her lips as much as it did others. Though, he still corrected her.

  “I'm a very serious musician.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What's the difference?”

  He found himself leaning closer to her and rested one hand on the door frame she was propped up against. “Rock stars make music because they care about the after-party. Musicians make music because... I'd die if I didn't.”

  “So you're saying that your reputation is all a lie? You're a mis-typed and misunderstood musician?”

  “No,” he admitted slowly. “But the music has always come first for me, not the other way around.”

  If she was uncomfortable with his proximity, she hid it well. Her body remained perfectly still. This close, he could smell her shampoo competing with the smell of cake coming from the kitchen. His eyes skated over her messy hair, her face, settling on her eyes where he found her studying him.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “I'm just trying to figure you out,” she answered honestly.

  “That makes two of us.”

  Her lips parted slightly in surprise and then she grinned. It was like a spotlight being turned on, it was so bright. “You're throwing me off my game,” she said with a short laugh.

  “You have game?” he teased in response, knowing the risk to outright flirting and not caring.

  Her grin warmed into a smile that reached her eyes before she straightened fully and turned around to resume her cleaning of the kitchen.

  “It'll be a bit before the cake is ready to eat, what do you suggest we do until then?” she asked.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  She lifted only her eyes and waited for him to continue.

  “Why haven't you kicked me out yet?” he asked seriously. “I mean, I can tell you're not used to having people over for visits. Tawny even warned me that you're a very private person. So why haven't you asked me to leave yet?”

  Her cheeks began to turn red and she swallowed as her eyes dropped to the counter top. She shrugged and then rested her hands on her hips, her expression guarded. The shutters blowing closed again. “You can leave if you want.”