by Mia Josephs
“How did you know where I live?” Corinne asked. He was here. He’d followed her. He was supposed to forget about her within a week. That was the plan. This wasn’t part of the plan.
“Miranda doesn’t have the same loyalty to you as Max does.” His head and shoulders fell a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I don’t…”
The confusion on his face and the uncertainty in his features was enough to soften her. “Put your bag down. Put the guitar down. Take a seat.”
She stepped around the back of the old, leather couch, opened the wood stove and shoved a few more logs on the fire with weak arms. Her heart pounded and that wanting feeling settled into her stomach next to a frantic ball of nerves. Seeing Chris should not have affected her so much. He was just a guy. Someone she barely knew.
“Thanks… You live way off the beaten path,” he commented.
She faced him just briefly, and it was as if someone had ripped his best rock star self out of the pages of Rolling Stone and plopped him on the couch. Expertly worn leather jacket, a white t-shirt that probably cost more than her outfit, and jeans she was sure were more than her monthly car payment. Why was he here?
“I like being off the beaten path. Keeps people away.” She tried to tease, but they both knew she was only half teasing so it fell a bit flat.
They stared, both guarded in posture while Corinne watched him for any sign as to why he’d sought her out. Why now. Why to her home?
“I lost it. Right after you left.” He swallowed but kept eye contact. “I couldn’t write. Trying to stay sober… I’ve been walking right on this edge, and I…”
She walked back around her couch and into the small kitchen that rested under the loft. “Oh.” But his words snaked into her because she’d been down this road with another rock star a few years Chris’ senior. Jonah’s father.
“This isn’t fair to you.” He stood. “I shouldn’t have come.”
No, you shouldn’t have, is what she wanted to say, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. “Sit or you’ll miss tea. Chai tea tonight, and I buy the good stuff.”
His brows pulled together again. Perfect stubble patterned over his strong jaw. Why couldn’t he be one of the odd-looking musicians? There were lots of those. Why?
“Corinne, I really… I…”
“Shhh.” She held her hand out between them, but instead of looking at him and letting her mind wander, she continued with her task of filling up the teapot and setting it on the stove, glad that the counter separated them while she wrapped her head around the fact that Christian Meyer was in her living room. “I’ve written songs with you. You’re here for tea. It’s fine.”
“Okay then.”
She heard the couch creak under his weight and had to force herself from staring again at the gorgeous man in her house.
“Wow. You are a catalog marker, aren’t you?” He chuckled.
“Oh. Those are Heather’s.”
Corinne’s stomach dropped. Crap. No way Heather didn’t notice a car come up her driveway. She’d be here any second to check. Corinne scrambled to find her phone to tell Heather all was well. She wasn’t ready to try to explain Chris’ presence, though she didn’t understand it herself. But a quick knock at the door, followed by the door opening, told Corinne she was too late. Her stomach dropped again. Corinne spun in the kitchen just in time to see Heather’s smile.
“Hey!” Heather said brightly. “I just wanted to check and see…” Her voice faded at about the same moment her eyes landed on Christian Meyer over the back of the couch.
Corinne gripped the edge of the counter so tightly her knuckles whitened. “Heather. This is Chris. He came up...unexpectedly...for...um...business...songwriting stuff…” Corinne knew it was pathetic. She also knew that Heather would see right through her attempts to sound normal.
At the same time, maybe Heather wasn’t paying attention to her at all. Heather’s smile was the biggest Corinne had ever seen as she stepped forward, reaching out her hand to shake Chris’.
“Oh. Hi.” Chris turned on the couch and then stood and walked around the back.
“Oh.” Heather gestured him closer to her. “You’re a friend of Corinne’s. We should meet in a hug.”
Heather gave Corinne a comically wide-grin before she turned back to Chris.
For the first time since Chris arrived, Corinne saw the humor in the situation. Uber famous rock star in a tiny town in Washington with an obsessed fan of a neighbor about to feel his ass when she got her hug.
And just like Corinne predicted, Heather’s hands made it just a hair below the waist of his jeans.
“I’d love to say Corinne told me all about you.” He stood back. “But we tried...to uh...keep it all…” He glanced over his shoulder at her as if she’d somehow know what he was trying to say and be able to help him. “...all, uh...professional.”
Heather snorted in her lame attempt to hold in a laugh. “Professional. Okay then. So…is it tea time?” she asked with the same goofy grin.
Corinne closed her eyes, knowing her friend would catch the hint.
“Maybe another night…” Heather shifted her weight back to Chris. “You know… If you’re around in the next few days.”
“I’d like that.” He ducked his head in a modest sort of nod and shoved his unruly hair back off his face.
Heather paused as she held the door. “Christian Meyer,” she breathed.
He flashed his true famous-guy smile. The kind made to weaken knees. “Great to meet you, Heather.”
“Great.” She swallowed and nodded a few more times. “To meet you, too.”
She gave Corinne one last excited squealy-girl look before backing out the door.
“Good friend of yours?” he asked turning around.
“The best.”
Jonah’s door opened, and unbelievably, Corinne’s stomach dropped again. This was going to come as a surprise...
There was no denying he felt like an idiot showing up at Corinne’s house. He felt pathetic enough that he didn’t say anything about how weird it was. How desperate he was for help. And now this.
This kid who...looked to have none of Corinne’s dark features, rubbing his eyes in striped pajamas.
“Auntie Corinne?” he asked in a sleepy voice.
Chris hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until the word “auntie” came out. It shouldn’t matter if she had a kid or not. But ‘auntie’ made him feel like he was slightly less left out of her life.
The boy’s bedroom opened into the back of the kitchen and it was another reminder of how tiny her house was. It looked like a small log cabin from the driveway, well...and from the inside, too. The only thing that helped it be less claustrophobic was the tall A-Frame ceiling. But there seemed to be a bathroom and bedroom door behind the kitchen. Small, but efficient.
There was a narrow living room with mismatched leather furniture, a kitchen tucked under a tiny loft, and it was apparently a home that held a kid.
“Hey, Jonah,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. My friend came up from California. We’ll try to be more quiet, okay?”
Jonah nodded.
She pulled him into a tight hug, and the kid turned back into his room.
“Auntie, huh?” Chris asked his mind still spinning.
Corinne’s expression was pained. “His mom was… This falls under the things I don’t talk about.”
He wondered if coming up had pushed them even farther apart than she’d tried to keep him in California...well, aside from the sex… His eyes floated over her body briefly before his mind caught back up to their conversation.
“Can we not be friends?” Chris asked.
“I have a bad track record,” Corinne answered and their eyes locked.
What did that mean? Was she seriously telling him she didn’t even want a friend? He lost his breath and he could feel the twitching start in his fingertips.
The teapot whistled. She jumped. Chris jumped. He shouldn’t have come.
His gaze floated toward the door, but he’d come so far. He wasn’t ready to leave.
Chris sat down and began scanning the photos on the wall in silence. A woman who looked similar to Corinne posed on the grass with a much younger version of the boy he’d just seen. She stood with a man who was almost definitely her husband. A few of the kid at various ages. One of Corinne with her probably-sister. A picture of Corinne’s arms around a clean cut guy in a police uniform, and he wondered just how much he might have screwed up by sleeping with her. Were they together?
When she sat, she sat in the middle of the couch instead of at the end furthest from him and immediately pulled her knees to her chest, handing him his tea, and clutching hers on her knees.
“Are you okay?” He fingered the pottery mug.
Her dark eyes settled on him, framed by thick lashes and the wild curly hair he’d buried his face in, brushed off her neck, her back…
“I think I should be asking you that question?”
He breathed in the sweet, spicy smell of his drink and wished he knew what to tell her. “I know you’re a private person, and you’ve made it very clear that you’re not interested in us being friends or getting to know each other. I’ve shown up at your house, I’ve invaded your privacy, and by sitting in this comfortable room and holding this cup of tea you’ve made for me, I feel like… I think I chose wrong.”
“Set that aside for a moment.” She took another sip of her tea. “Does this feel like where you should be right now?”
In a strange sort of way, it did. It was so removed from his life to be here, that it did feel like where he should be. Chris didn’t rush his answer, but instead took a long swallow of the hot milky tea and thought.
“I hoped to stick around. I’d like to be here, around you, and not feel hopelessly pathetic. I guess I’m hoping that spending more time with you will rub off on me and I’ll be able to keep writing. I don’t want to give up on my solo career before it’s even started.”
She rested her hand on his arm, still hot from her mug. “You’re in the right place then, but Chris…”
He wasn’t sure how he’d handle it if she told him to go. “No buts. Please.”
She laughed softly. “I’m private. I just am. I have to protect myself. I work odd hours teaching yoga. Jonah lives here. When I’m not teaching yoga I’m cutting wood or helping my parents who are endlessly clueless about simple things like sending email and my friend Heather drops in unannounced often.”
He breathed in the smell of the tea and the woodstove and some kind of earthy spices that were probably a permanent part of her house. “Thank you. I’ll leave you for tonight, and find myself a room in town, but I’d love to get together tomorrow. I don’t know. I’ll work around your schedule. Anything. And I’ll pay you. Whatever you want.”
“I know you’ll be fair with the money, though I have no idea how to even begin charging for this…” She shook her head as she held in her smile. “I’m ill equipped here, but town is even worse. It’s one of the reasons I’m here. Besides, it’s a bit of a drive, and it’s late.”
His heart jumped at the thought of staying in this small haven because the longer he was there the more it felt like just that. He’d grown up in a house not too dissimilar in Oregon, and everything about the place reminded him of home—except the small size.
“I sleep in the loft, but the loft has a closet I sometimes use as a bedroom. It’s tight quarters, but I spent a lot of time on a sailboat growing up, so tight quarters don’t bother me.”
“Another piece,” he said quietly.
She cocked her head to the side. “Another what?”
“Oh.” He shifted his mug. “Another piece of Corinne. That’s all. I always…”
Just like that her face closed off. “Learn about people. I remember.”
He breathed in the warm smell of her home again and half-heartedly said, “You don’t need to put me up.”
“You can stay here as long as you keep paying me well,” she countered with a smile. “I don’t work many hours, I want to spend time with Jonah, and we both know you can afford it.”
Something about the way she offered, all business and money, told him that he should stay. That even though part of her minded, part of her didn’t. And he immediately clung to the idea that maybe him being there was okay.
It was strange. He barely knew her. The songwriting was amazing, almost as amazing as the sex, but he had no idea how to get to know a woman who had zero interest in getting to know him. “Thanks. I’d love that. Maybe you’ll be rid of me sooner. Or maybe I’ll go broke before I’m able to write again.”
Corinne chuckled and then took another sip of her tea—her smooth lips lining up with the rim of the cup. Holy hell being in close quarters with her was going to be rough.
“It’s actually fine,” Corinne said with a small smile. “You’re okay to be here.”
And in that moment, he chose to believe her.
SIX
Corinne’s head swam as Christian followed her up the narrow stairs to the open loft. Why had she allowed him to stay? Why hadn’t she sent him back into town to stay in that crap motel on the highway? More than that. Why had she let him through the front door?
It would be so convenient to say she needed the money, but even though she couldn’t put her finger on why she’d said yes, she knew money wasn’t the whole reason.
She wasn’t used to facing someone she’d slept with. Not unless she was dating them, and she had zero intention of being with Christian Meyer again, no matter how her body reacted to his presence. Like how it buzzed knowing he was two steps behind her. How she wanted to rake her hands over his hard body and feel the strength of him wrapped around her.
They stopped in the loft. Her bed rested against the far wall—her massive closet on one side that served as an extra bedroom and her bathroom on the other side. He’d walk past her every time he went to the bathroom…
“So…” She paused in the tiny space, trying not to feel ashamed of how incredibly modest it all was. At least her embarrassment had tempered her memories. “The room I have isn’t much. More like a closet with a door.”
“Corinne. Really. It’s all fine. This is way more than you need to do.”
She spun to face him suddenly suspicious. “You’re not after more of…”
His brows knitted in confusion.
“More of…” She gestured with her hands but couldn’t force out the words. She’d had sex with him. What kind of weird prude was she? Actually. She wasn’t. It was just something she’d never done lightly before.
A smile broke across his face making her stumble even more.
“Well. I’d be lying if I said thoughts of that night don’t cross my mind when I’m around you, and a bit when I’m not around you, but that’s not what brought me here.”
She pressed small fingers to her forehead because that’s exactly how she felt. This was not going to be easy. “I’ve just never done that before, and I—”
His laughter cut her off. “Could have fooled me. Because the way you moved makes me think you’ve definitely had practice.”
She knew she should tease him back but heat washed over her face and she stared at the floor trying to regain some amount of composure.
“I’m teasing, Corinne.” He tipped her chin with his finger until she let him pull her face level with his. “I didn’t come here for that. I wouldn’t argue if you wanted more…” His smile widened and then softened, a million little wants floating through her body that she tried to ignore.
Chris continued, “I felt like… Writing was easy again with you. You’re easy to be around, despite the fact I seem to be constantly stepping on the lines you’d like drawn between us.”
With how his deep voice vibrated and how he was close enough that she could feel his warmth and that there wasn’t one, but two beds near… All the wanting feeling from having him so close were much harder to push down.
She felt hersel
f lean in just as he did… Closer, closer, closer…
Corinne barked out a laugh. They both froze. Chris smiled, shook his head and they each took a step back. Moment broken.
“I sleep here.” She pointed to the small loft space between the bedroom and the bathroom. “Bathroom there.” She pointed again. “And your bedroom is also sort of my closet.”
Chris peered in the doorway. “This is so cool. All the wood. Small. Perfect.”
“Okay.” Corinne let out a nervous chuckle. “I’ll use the bathroom real quick and then it’s all yours. The sheets are clean and all that...”
Chris shoved both hands in his back pockets. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“It’s not what you’re used to, but—”
Chris waved her down again. “The house I grew up in was very much like this, only older.”
“And probably bigger?” she asked.
He shrugged in concession.
After a few minutes in the bathroom she adjusted herself in bed, knowing relaxing would be nigh on impossible. Chris wandered from his small room, past her bed, to the bathroom. His silhouette filled the small doorway and she could see all the lean muscles and slim body. A rush of memories of his mouth trailing up her bare sides and hands on her hips as he moved against her rocked her body hard.
She squeezed her eyes tight, and hoped he went back home before she did something stupid. Like fall for him.
Some muffled banging woke Chris, but not completely. He rolled over, pulling the blankets more tightly around him, and crashed as the house went silent again. His dream was vivid perfection. Corinne’s body wound tightly around his, her lips moving down his neck, down his chest, down his stomach, grasping…
And then she was gone. And so were the blankets. And he was freezing…
Chris woke with such a start he found himself sitting in bed, clutching the sheets and shivering. He blinked for a moment, trying to figure out why he was in a tiny wood-paneled room with clothes hanging along one side.