“I’m not. But I’m a fan of yours. Figure you know a few non-country covers.”
“I don’t know, Chasin. First asking me to sing someone else’s music, then asking me to cover a non-country song? That’s some sacrilege shit, right there.” Genevieve mocked annoyance, shook her head, then covered her heart with her hand.
But she still went to the guitar case he’d carried in earlier, unlatched the box, and pulled the instrument free.
“What’d you have in mind? Wait. Before you say anything, you hafta know—you ask for some boy-band or teeny-bopper shit, we can’t be friends.”
“That a deal-breaker?” He smiled.
“Absolutely.”
“Noted. You know any Bob Seger or Fleetwood Mac?”
“I approve,” she mumbled, and moved to the dining room table. Once she had the chair turned to face the room, she sat and started plucking. “Give me a sec.”
Chasin went to the fridge, grabbed two beers, popped the tops, and went back to the living room.
“Bobby!” he shouted from the bottom of the stairs.
A few seconds later, she appeared with a scowl. “Why you hollerin’?”
“Get your ass down here.”
“’Scuse me?”
“Genevieve’s gonna play something. Get down here.”
“I’m naked,” she scoffed.
“I’m looking at you, woman, and you’re not naked.”
“My face is.”
Christ.
Not this again.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I can’t—”
“Do you honestly think I give a shit if you’re wearing makeup?”
“This isn’t about you, Chasin, it’s about me and I don’t—”
“Jesus, God, seriously. You gotta know you’re a beautiful woman and it’s not because of that shit you put on your face. I don’t get women, never will, so I’ve given up trying. All I can tell you is, I’m looking right at you and you don’t look any different than you do with that shit painted on.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re single,” she shot back. “You should put some effort into getting women.”
Never mind. Chasin had lost interest in the topic.
“Whatever. Stay up there, makeup-free, and by yourself.”
Chasin turned to find Genevieve staring at him. She was also smiling.
“Told you so.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled again, and Genevieve erupted into laughter.
Hearing that, Chasin knew it was worth the irritating and pointless conversation he’d had with Bobby. He planted his ass on the couch as he heard Bobby coming down the stairs. His gaze went to a disgruntled Bobby then back to Genevieve, who was twisting her lips to stop from laughing again. He winked and smiled.
“Whatever,” she parroted, and this time it was his amusement that filled the room.
Heat seared straight through him as Genevieve’s eyes stayed locked to his even though her fingers were strumming her guitar.
She waited until his laughter stopped before she started singing Bob Seger’s “Night Moves.”
He was mesmerized.
Completely transfixed.
When she finished Seger, she took a moment to adjust her ass on the seat, but her fingers never stopped moving on the strings. And like the professional she was, the transition into Fleetwood Mac’s, “Dreams” was seamless.
Genevieve started humming the beginning of the song and her eyes drifted closed as she got lost in the music. Hell, Chasin was so lost in it he barely registered Bobby nudging him with her knee from beside him.
“You’re in for a treat. This is one of Viv’s favorites,” she whispered.
Fuck, he was already captivated and didn’t think she could top Seger.
Three seconds later, goose bumps rose on his arms and he realized he was wrong—she could top Seger. Not only top it—, but fuck him, he loved Stevie Nicks’ breathy voice—but he thought Genevieve’s was better. Out-of-the-park better.
And there Chasin sat, listening to a song that was written by Stevie Nicks as a ‘fuck you’ to her man as they were breaking up. Yet, he was so enthralled by her voice, it was soul-changing.
The song took on a new meaning.
When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know.
He wanted Genevieve to wash him clean of the memories.
Of all the bitterness.
And in return, he’d do the same for her.
He’d wash her clean, wrap himself around her dreams, but they wouldn’t be about loneliness.
He was spellbound.
Riveted, awestruck, and fully in love.
16
The last few days had been weird.
Strange and weird.
And I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Bobby told me I was over-thinking things, which I tended to do, but I couldn’t stop thinking. For two days, Chasin had been in my face, poking and prodding. Then we came to the farm and…nothing. It’s like he wasn’t Chasin.
Kennedy came over with her beautiful German Shepherd, Tank. We walked around the farm and picked berries from the bushes she found by the barn—by the way, I was in love with that barn. Unfortunately me being who I was when I wasn’t pretending to be the bold and brash Vivi, which was pretty much a dork therefore I very loudly verbalized my love for the barn and how it would be a perfect recording studio.
I’d even gone as far as vocalizing how I’d remodel it. Bobby saw my vision, thought it was inspired, and joined in. By the time we were done, there was a lounge, a bar complete with beer taps in the downstairs area, and a booth and recording area upstairs in the loft.
Of course, Holden’s cool-as-shit silver Airstream parked a few yards away from the old milking parlor only added to the coolness factor of the area. I pointed that out, too.
Then Bobby and I waxed poetic about how badass it would be to build a bonfire and have a jam session outside the barn. Of course, Kennedy jumped on that bandwagon and agreed, adding that it would be kick-ass for me to invite other singers and have an old-school MTV Unplugged-style show. She even went so far as to name my make-believe studio The Farm. To which I shouted, “That would be awesome!”
Unfortunately, Chasin and Holden were both there to witness my craziness. And since then, Chasin had not been Chasin.
Then there was last night during dinner when I reminded Bobby to remind me to call my real estate agent so I could get my house on the market. I was never going back there, not even to pack it up. She understood why and told me she’d find movers to pack the house. I asked her to hold off.
I needed to think about what was in that house and what I wanted. Other than what was in my studio and my personal effects, I didn’t think I wanted the furniture. I hadn’t picked out anything in that house. Leslie had arranged for an interior designer to kit the place out. I couldn’t say it was horrible, but it wasn’t my taste. Bobby agreed.
Nixon Swagger’s farm was cool. I wanted it. But I’d never offend the man by asking him to sell it to me, because it meant something to him.
In the meantime, Chasin had been giving me space. He said I had songs to write and he had a stalker to find. So he was on the phone a lot, at his computer a lot, but he didn’t leave the house to go into the office. And I hadn’t left the property either, but I’d gone for walks every day.
The only good thing about Chasin giving me the cold shoulder was I’d written two songs. Apparently, fresh air and uncertainty made me reflective and fueled my creativity.
But now I was over it.
It wasn’t lost on me that for two weeks, I wanted nothing to do with Chasin—after a weekend wanting everything from him. Now I was back to wanting something and he didn’t seem to want anything from me.
Are we all confused yet?
I sure as hell was. But this wasn’t a classic case of wanting what I couldn’t have. As I said, it was weird and strange. There’d been no more pushy, demanding talks. He w
as generous with information, and not just with me, with Bobby, too. She could be intrusive and ask personal questions and Chasin had answered them. She was not shy about how much she liked Chasin, which meant she showed him in a lot of ways how perfect she thought he was. She’d even taking to saying, “You’re perfect.” Every time she said it, he chuckled and I rolled my eyes.
I knew he’d been in the Navy and had been a SEAL. He grew up in Ohio and hated it there. Bobby asked if that was why he joined the Navy and he’d answered in the affirmative. He was a three-season athlete in high school. Football in the fall, swimming in the winter, and baseball in spring. He’d admitted he was ‘good’ but I figured he was downplaying that and he was really great at sports. He sounded popular and well-liked.
He touched on the topic of his one long-term girlfriend. She sounded like a bitch, at least that was what I told myself. He ended things because she cheated. He had no proof it was the physical kind, but the sneaking around, secret texting, and meeting up for drinks was enough for him to end things. Surprisingly that didn’t bring up bad feelings about what had happened between the two of us. Instead, it made me realize how deep his mother’s cheating had scarred him. And that was saying something considering I had firsthand, heartbreaking experience with his issues.
Listening to him tell the story, I knew it was about cheating but it wasn’t, it was about trust and loyalty. Two things I, myself, had hang-ups about. I knew to my soul what it was like to have people lie and steal from you.
So over the last few days, I’d gotten to know Chasin. He’d also gotten to know me. He didn’t ask about my music career other than to ask how it got started. And when I caught him looking up Vivi Rush on the internet and jotting down notes about my last tour, watching videos of the concerts my fans posted online, reading fan forums, I confronted him about why he didn’t just ask me.
Typical Chasin—he didn’t mince words when he said, “Because this shit”—he pointed to his laptop—“isn’t about you. It’s about how your fans react to Vivi, what they say. You wanna tell me how you, Genevieve, feel about this, I’ll listen. When I need to know something about Genevieve, I’ll ask you. But right now, I’m digging into Vivi Rush, the country music phenomenon. And just to say, woman, I don’t like country music, but this shit is good. I know you’re putting on an act when you get on that stage, but, goddamn, Genevieve, your ass can strut. Vivi or Genevieve, you light up and rock the house. Damn impressive.”
I loved his answer. I loved it so much I fell for him a little more. Which was to say I was no longer half in love with him, I was more like two-thirds of the way back to where I was before our misunderstanding.
He got it.
He saw the difference.
Most people would find it strange that I was two completely different people, but not him.
He saw me.
But now that he’d put the brakes on, I wasn’t sure what to do.
“What’s on your mind?” Chasin’s voice came from behind me.
I felt heat hit my back as he stepped closer. My body locked, my heart hammered, and I braced my hands on the countertop in front of me. But he didn’t touch me.
It was now or never.
You got one life, baby, just one.
I plucked up all the bravery I could find and went for it.
“Us,” I admitted.
“Us?”
“Yep. I was thinking about the last few days and was trying to figure out what had changed and why.”
There, I said it. And it wasn’t that hard. But I was also facing the coffee pot and not looking at him, so there was that. Not so brave after all, because if I was looking into his hazel eyes and saw his handsome face, I probably would’ve chickened out.
One of his hands went to my hip. The other brushed my hair off my shoulder and I felt the cool air of the room hit my fevered neck.
Oh, boy.
One touch, a barely-there skim of his fingers, and my body heated. His face lowered and his lips got close to my ear. Feather-light, his words washed over me. “Turn around, Genevieve.”
“No.”
Chasin’s hand on my hip tightened and I remembered what that grip felt like against my naked skin.
The full-body shiver that accompanied the memory was involuntary, but that didn’t mean Chasin didn’t feel it. He did and I knew it when he fitted his big frame to my back, bringing us closer together.
“Turn around.” His gentle tone was deceiving. He wasn’t asking, he was commanding.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I turn around I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve,” I admitted.
So much for being brave. I couldn’t even look at him.
“How ‘bout this? You tell me what you think has changed, but when I tell you what hasn’t, you turn around so I can look at you.”
Now I was confused and afraid because I wasn’t sure what he was trying to say.
“What do you mean what hasn’t changed?”
“You gotta look at me if you want the answer to that.”
I started to turn, knowing my movements had less to do with bravery and everything to do with curiosity. As soon as I was facing Chasin, his hands went to my face and he cupped my cheeks. God, I loved it when he did that.
“Nothing’s changed, Evie.”
Evie.
What in the world? He hadn’t called me that in days, but it still made my legs feel like jelly.
“Something has,” I argued.
“Right. My approach changed but nothing else.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You ready to hear this?”
Um. What does that mean?
“Hear what?”
“About what hasn’t changed.”
I’ve always considered myself fairly smart, maybe not the sharpest tool, but certainly not the dullest. However, right then I was feeling pretty dumb.
“Why wouldn’t I be ready to hear about what hasn’t changed?”
“Because what hasn’t changed might freak you out and you have an album to write, a house to sell, movers to coordinate, an assistant to convince not to quit, though I think you’re pretty safe on that front. Your manager has called three times in the last two days wanting a meeting. And I’ve asked you to avoid Leslie, which means she’s getting antsy and calling Bobby off the hook, wanting updates on the new album. So with everything you got going on, the last thing you need to be is freaked out.”
It must be noted that all of what Chasin said was factual, though nowhere in the list of things I had to deal with did he mention my stalker.
That was because that was not on my to-do list—that was on his. Something he’d made clear at dinner one night. His job was to keep me safe, and my job was to relax. At that declaration, Bobby had smiled like a crazy dingbat.
“Well, now, I think I need to hear what you have to say,” I told him.
Chasin took a moment to hold my stare. I watched as his eyes did the visual scan I’d become accustomed to.
“Okay then, nothing’s changed. The other day in your kitchen I was straight with you. I told you I wasn’t letting you go again and I’m not. I also told you I wasn’t stupid. I know when to push and when not to. You have a lot going on and you needed a minute to catch your breath.”
“But I thought you said you weren’t gonna give me time to think.”
Man-oh-man, being as we were up close and personal, his face right in front of mine, I could hardly miss the wolfish grin that pulled at his mouth and made his eyes heat. And thank God I didn’t—the smile was a mix of cocky and sexy and caused my girly parts to tingle.
“I said I wasn’t gonna let you think of ways to lock me out. And that still stands; you start to build those walls again, I’m fighting my way through. But I’m not an asshole and I know how important your music is to you. I also know you needed time for you and Bobby to work through your shit. She’s important to you. Since we’ve gotten here, you’ve given
me the woman I first met. You’ve been at ease, you’ve been open, you’ve been happy. I already knew I wasn’t letting you go, but watching you these last few days has only solidified my resolve. I’m not letting you go. Which means we got a lot to work out. To do that, I’m gonna want all of your time and right now, I can’t have it. When the time’s right—”
“The time’s right,” I blurted out.
Chasin’s body went solid and I couldn’t blame him. I, too, was shocked at my words. I wasn’t entirely sure where that bout of courage came from, but the words were out there hanging between us and I hoped like hell he’d catch them, because I wasn’t sure I could take his rejection.
No, I was sure.
Very, very sure that if Chasin rejected me, it was going to kill.
One hand left my face and trailed down my neck, over my shoulder, down my arm that was lamely dangling at my side, and his fingers locked around my wrist. Slowly, he brought my hand to his chest and settled my palm over his heart. Once he had me situated, his fingertips grazed over my tattoo.
“I love your tatts. Colorful and vibrant, just like the woman who wears them.”
The swift change of topic had me off-balance. I didn’t know where he was leading the conversation but I was pretty positive the butterflies in my stomach weren’t the good kind. They were the ones that warned you of the danger up ahead.
“This one’s new. What’s it mean?”
Yep. Danger.
My mind was screaming to lie.
I watched as he traced the words inked on my skin. Words I’d marked on my body in haste in an effort to protect myself. I had very few regrets in my life, I chose to view my mistakes as opportunities to grow. But now, looking at the tattoo, I regretted it.
“Evie?” he prompted.
Lie.
Just lie.
“You said that to me.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, the vibe in the room went scary electric. Something big had changed. No, something huge was at play and it freaked me out.
So much for lying.
Chasin's Surrender (Gemini Group Book 5) Page 13