As the words passed my lips, I realized that I wasn’t so sure anymore. Just two weeks ago I would have guaranteed my answer, but with this woman in my life my limitations felt more like shackles instead of safety nets.
“Enough about me. If I keep this up then I’ll have to turn in my man–card.”
She laughed and just the sound loosened the tightness that I’d been carrying around since she’d kicked me out of her apartment.
“So, Kit. What’s your story?”
“Don’t you read People magazine?”
Her laugh was awkward and I recognized it for what it was—a lame attempt to avoid the spotlight. She wasn’t getting off that easily.
“Didn’t you tell me not to believe anything I read in a magazine?” When she hesitated, I leaned into the phone and whispered, “Baby.”
“Yeah?”
“Just tell me.”
“I loved Jake Cooper and he loved me. I know he did no matter how it turned out. For a year, we were able to keep it together. I cut back on my touring and he turned down a movie but eventually our careers demanded more of our time. He wanted me to scale back my ambition, but I couldn’t make the leap. I was afraid.”
“Afraid? Of what?”
“Career suicide. Lost opportunity. Missed chances to make money and secure the future for me and the ones who depended on me. It was only a few years ago that I was a homeless teen living on the streets. Jake grew up in the suburbs in a gated community and he had no way to understand where I was coming from.”
I knew what came next. Unless you were living under a rock, the whole world knew.
“Things were bad between us and then he went to Japan to work on a movie and I stayed in the U.S. His ex–wife was his co–star and they started sleeping together again.”
“What an asshole.”
“Yep. But, that wasn’t the reason I left him.”
“I think it was reason enough.”
She hummed in agreement. “I ended it because I wasn’t the woman who was going to make him happy. The things he wanted us to do to be together—it wasn’t wrong. That’s what normal people do and I figured that if I couldn’t or wouldn’t do it for him then I needed to let him go.” Kit attempted a non–committal tone as if the decision hadn’t been a difficult one to make, but the pain in her voice gave it away. “We loved each other—I loved him—but it wasn’t enough.”
I remembered the headlines that followed Kit the year after the break–up. There were the missed concerts, the delay of her album because she was a no–show at the recording studio, and the reports of drinking and rehab.
Kit guessed my train of thought. “Everything printed about me was true. The drinking. The men. I missed work because I was drunk or hung over or in some random guy’s room. I haven’t had a drink in a year. Haven’t wanted one until recently.” Her voice was weary. “I’ve been hitting extra meetings, talking to my sponsor as I work through it all.”
Okay. So we were both fucked up when it came to relationships and that was never destined to end well. I should get out now while the getting was good but I knew I wouldn’t.
I’d thought I was a fan before I met her but “Kit the Singer” was only a fraction of what the awesome “Kit the Woman” was. Jake Cooper had been a clueless douchebag and I was running for the second place title because I intended to walk away when this was all over. Or would I stay? I had a lot of thinking to do in the next two weeks.
Voices came over the line and I could hear Kit murmuring to someone in the background. When she came back on the line, her voice had switched into business mode. “I have to go.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. You go do what you have to do and I’ll see you when you get back to Nashville. Okay?” My fingers itched to touch her and I would have given anything to kiss her at that moment, but that was going to have to wait.
She agreed and ended the call and I flopped back on my bunk and stared at the bed above me. The crisscross of wire that supported the mattress on the upper bunk perfectly matched my emotions.
My head was telling me not to get involved any deeper with Kit but I knew it was too late. I was involved. I wasn’t calling it a love match, but friendship was definitely in the mix and that made all the lines a little blurry.
And for the first time since Sarah, I didn’t mind.
But it did scare the shit out of me.
21
Kit
“Is that a new song?”
Surprised by his question, I strummed my guitar and looked over to where Max was lying on the picnic blanket. We hadn’t talked much since our telephone call. I’d left New York for a short press junket in the Northwest and bad weather in Nashville had pulled Max into a double–shift at the station that ended early this morning. I’d expected him to grab some sleep and then call me later, but he’d called before eight and asked if I wanted to go fishing and have a picnic.
I’d thrown together a cooler full of food and drinks, and grabbed my guitar just in time to meet him downstairs in his truck. We’d driven in silence to private Butler land far out of Nashville.
So far we’d eaten, with Max inhaling the fried chicken, but his fishing pole was still in the truck. He’d collapsed on the blanket and I watched him.
Max didn’t look good. Haggard and exhausted, he had dark shadows under his eyes and his usual, easy conversation was nonexistent.
I knew what was wrong and I let him have his peace. The TV news and the newspaper were full of what Max had dealt with on his long shift. With tourist season in full swing, the bad weather had caused several major accidents with several fatalities. One accident resulted in the deaths of three people, one being a child, and Max’s station had responded to the call.
So, I didn’t press him to talk. I had no idea what to say that would soothe his hurt. He needed time to process everything that had happened and I was content to sit by and work on the song I couldn’t get out of my head.
I still owed him an answer to his question. “Yep. A new one. But, the words aren’t coming to me.” I struggled to articulate what I was feeling since I couldn’t get it on paper. “It’s not a love song, it’s not a sad song, it’s...”
“It’s bittersweet.”
I closed my eyes and looked up into the sky as I continued to strum. The sun shone a warm red behind my eyelids. He was right. It was bittersweet and needed the perfect lyric. But that would be for another day. I needed to concentrate to the get words down and I couldn’t do that, knowing what Max was dealing with.
I opened my eyes and looked at Max. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that usually led to a nap. Damn, but he was beautiful. With the sun glinting off his ebony hair and his tan skin gleaming, he looked like a dark angel. I laughed at that word choice—he’d always been my angel.
“I like this place.” I soaked in the crystal clear lake, the grassy lawn leading down to the pier and the beautiful, old shade trees. It was secluded, quiet, and perfect for getting away from what troubled you. “Is this a favorite?”
“One of them. I come here to relax. To get away.” His voice was gravelly and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Thanks for coming. I’ve never brought a woman here before.”
My stomach did a triple somersault. What did that mean about how he felt about me? Something between us had shifted, changed. It was still too early to tell but I felt like we were on the edge of moving into new territory for us; something that would take longer than three weeks to figure out.
I’d missed him in New York and he’d preoccupied my thoughts more often than I liked. The week between the awful day in my loft and when I’d finally taken his call had been terrible. It was crazy how much I missed him and how much that fact didn’t bother me. But, what I wanted in my personal life was the total opposite of what Max wanted in a relationship. Realistically, this was all it could ever be and I had to accept it.
I placed my guitar in its case next to the blanket and stretched ou
t next to Max. He reached out with one arm and dragged me closer, our knees touching, eyes locked on each other. I reached out and stroked his face. He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
He kept his eyes closed. “No.”
I kept up the stroking, running my fingers through the soft strands of his hair, a whisper–light trace across the stubble on his jaw, down his muscled bicep. He wasn’t asleep.
“Are you ever scared?”
He opened his eyes, dark lashes and the darkish circles on his skin making the amber stand out.
“Fuck, yeah; every time.”
“Then why do you do it?”
He shifted up on one elbow, looking down at me, the sun behind him making his tanned skin deepen to a bronzed gold. He didn’t give me his usual Max smile. His eyes were somber, the lines around his mouth and eyes tight with tension.
“Are you ever scared? To do what you do?” he asked.
“It’s not the same.”
“Answer the question.” He toyed with the top button on my sundress, slipping it through the hole.
“Yes. I get scared.”
“So why do you do it?” Another button slipped through the hole, the rough callouses of his fingers awakening the nerve endings under my skin
“Because no one else can do what I do. Nobody else can sing my songs.”
“So ask me again.” He leaned forward, kissing the skin he was exposing, a lick of his tongue, a nip of his teeth.
I arched into his touch, squirming underneath him as my belly grew warm and my nipples hard. I could barely think about the question with him all over me.
“So why do you do it?” I asked as he put his finger in his mouth and then lowered the wet digit to circle my nipple, blowing on it gently.
“I do it because nobody else can. It’s my song, in a way.”
He lifted up and stared down at me, desire mixing with something else in his eyes. Sadness. Regret. Grief. I bit back the tears in my eyes. He didn’t need that from me.
I cupped his jaw, stroking over his lower lip. “Was it bad today?”
He closed his eyes, his jaw tight. “Yes.”
“Can you talk about it?”
“I—” He swallowed hard, fingers gripping the blanket. I wanted to take the question back. He’d come here to forget and I’d invited his nightmare. “There was a kid. We couldn’t get them out.”
I gasped, understanding the horror immediately. The TV screen had been filled with the car fire.
“What do you need?” I would give him anything but I didn’t know where to start. He needed to give me an idea and I would let my heart show me the rest of the way.
“I need you.” He lay on his back, on the blanket, his eyes fixed on me. “I was back at the house, putting away the gear, getting cleaned up and all I could think about was you. Do you know why?”
I shook my head.
“Because when I look at you, everything else fades. It just disappears and I can breathe again.” He reached up, his fingers toying with a curl, wrapping it around his finger. “I need you to make it all disappear. You’re the only thing I want to see.”
I leaned over, lowering my lips to his mouth. I pressed my lips to his, the sweetest glide filled with every ounce of my feeling. I pulled back, watching him until his eyes opened in a lazy, sensual motion.
“Just look at me.”
Max stared at me as I sat up completely, shrugging off the sundress and letting the sunshine warm my skin all over. I let my fingers dance across my skin, my breasts, in between my thighs. I was teasing myself, enticing Max with the movement. Drawing him into my spell.
“Just look at me,” I repeated as I slipped off my bra, one strap at a time, letting the weight of the cups pull it down. The breeze off the lake was cool against my fevered flesh, tightening my nipples into hard peaks. I needed his touch, the wet slick of his tongue on my body, but this was about Max.
Max’s eyes were hot and needy as he watched my progress, his hand rubbing against the erection filling the front of his shorts. I snaked a hand around my back and undid the clasp, throwing my bra to the side. I hooked two fingers into my underwear and slid them off my body until I kneeled in front of Max in nothing but my skin.
I was wide open. Pouring everything I had, everything I felt, into this moment with him. He looked me over, his gaze scorching me as he drank me in.
“Just look at me.”
I leaned forward from my kneeling position and undid the button on his shorts, pushing them down and off his body. He was hard, large and hot as I closed my hand around him, squeezing and stroking until he writhed under my touch. He never broke eye contact with me and I was wet just from the sounds he made. Rough. Needy. Raw.
“Fuck. More.” He groaned, writhing under each stroke of his cock. His fingers clenched the blanket at his sides, twisting the fabric. He was gorgeous, skin smooth and damp with sweat. “Please, Kit. More. I need you.”
I ached to touch myself, to ease the deep need building between my thighs, but I held off. This was about Max. This was all for Max.
I straddled his waist, reaching for the condom I’d stowed in the basket. I placed it on him quickly, positioning my slick center over him.
“Just look at me.”
I slid down his length, gasping with the fullness of him. He was so hard, so thick. I stroked my hands over his chest, enjoying his masculinity.
He reached up and cupped my face, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. “You’re so beautiful.”
I blinked back the tears. I was not safe with this man. I wanted to protect him, to soothe him, to laugh with him, to be with him. He’d worked his way inside my heart and I’d done nothing to stop him. It was as if my heart knew what my head would not admit.
He was it for me. He could be—was—my everything.
I traced the contours of his face, his cheekbones, his eyelids, his lips, and then back up to lightly caress the dark shadows underneath his eyes. “You look so tired. You should be at home sleeping.”
His sooty black eyelashes fluttered open, the desire swirling in his eyes causing my breath to catch in my throat. Max reached up, grabbed my hand, and pressed a kiss onto the palm.
“I need you, Kit.” His gaze caught my own in a stare of unapologetic need and desire. “You’re all I need.”
“Max.”
“Always need you.”
He pulled me down and kissed me, his tongue thrusting inside my mouth with a brutal, possessive hunger. I claimed him back, elated to know that I was not alone in this feeling. I needed him to know that he wasn’t alone, either.
I released his mouth and sat up, beginning that slow rise and fall that would bring him release, maybe bring him comfort. I was so wet, my body clasped him on each stroke and I felt the loss of him when he pulled out and the hunger building each time he thrust back in.
I want you.
I need you.
I love you.
I used my body to tell him all the things that I would not say. All the things I knew he did not want to hear. But I shouted them in my head as we rode the wave together. When I came it was sudden, wrenching a long, deep moan from me that I shouted into the open air. Max groaned, his fingers digging painfully into my hips as he shoved me down as he thrust upwards, going deep inside me. I felt him come, swelling inside as he found the oblivion he needed.
I collapsed against him, our bodies slick against each other and warm with the sunshine and our exertion. Max held me and I held him, our bodies shivering with the aftershock. We held each other until the sweat cooled on our bodies and our heartbeats slowed down in tandem. We held each other as we both fell asleep—Max finding his peace and me finding my home.
22
Max
“So, what are you trying to do? Feel good or forget?”
I looked up from the bourbon in my hand and into the face of my best friend. He leaned heavily on the bar and shook his head at
me like he already knew the answer to his question. “Dean, don’t start. I’m not in the mood.”
Dean signaled to the bartender to bring him a beer. When he turned back to me, his voice was brimming with sarcasm. “Yeah, I needed you to tell me that. Thank God, I came over to get that newsflash.”
I took a drink from my glass. “What do you want?”
“I want to know what has you heading straight for the hard stuff.” He nodded towards the glass in my hand.
I knocked back another swig of the whiskey before looking at him. “I’m fine.”
“Go sell that shit somewhere else. Are you still thinking about the shift? You took off pretty fast after the debrief.”
I sighed and slammed my glass down on the bar, spilling some of it on the counter. Dean’s just worried about you. No need to bite his head off. I tried again with less asshole in my tone. “No. I’m okay about the shift. I just...” I struggled with how to describe what was eating me up. “I’m just...”
Giving up, I grabbed my second drink and glanced over his shoulder across the room. My gaze automatically found Kit, beautiful and animated, as she posed for pictures and signed autographs for some of the crowd at Stoney’s, a local bar and grill owned by a retired firefighter, Mike Stoneman. Always gracious, Kit happily complied with her fans’ requests. As usual, she was making every person feel as if they were the only person in the room.
Dean interrupted my thoughts. “So, where did you go? I tried your phone for hours.”
I took another drink, grimaced at the bitter taste, and savored the burn. A couple more of these and I wouldn’t give a shit about the shift or anything else. “I went to the lake.” I anticipated his next question and muttered, “With Kit.”
Dean’s arm paused in mid–air as he lifted his beer to his mouth. His eyes shifted to me as his mouth dropped open in shock. “You never take women to the lake.”
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