Al looks at the two of us, his head cocked. “Well, at least something positive came of this.”
Kinley blushes deeply, which is adorable, and I point out the items I’d like.
She puts her hands on her hips. “This is about to take over my sitting room, isn’t it?”
I walk over and stand toe to toe with her, imitating her posture. “Prior to our practice sessions, when was the last time anybody sat in that sitting room?”
“Last year at my father’s funeral.”
“Are you planning on any funerals in the next couple of weeks?”
She turns to me and puts on a smile. “No, I suppose not. Though that does depend on your behavior.”
I carefully kneel and hold her hands. “Kinley, dear, will you please allow me to take over your sitting room so I can write the next great American country album?”
She bites her lip and drops her chin. “Yes, Mackenzie Nash, you may write the next great American country album in my sitting room. If you take it easy and don’t overdo it.”
I stand, less wobbly this time, and pump my fist. “Yes.Sucker.”
She flips me off, then goes over to help Al with one of the heavier pieces. It’s still a little difficult for me with the cane, but I grab my Stratocaster and follow them into the house.
Nudging the large square box with her toe, Kinley asks, “And what is this?”
I lean over and unclip it, opening the case. “My very own portable soundboard.”
She looks at me, playfully narrowing her eyes. “You’re gonna tack acoustic foam all over my walls, aren’t you?”
Al, coming up behind her with an open box full of acoustic foam, pauses, looking between us. I grin broadly, like the emoji, and hold out my hands.
“It’s just for the windows, in case they’re not, you know, double-paned.”
“I upgraded all the windows after my father’s death.”
“That’s good. Uh, what kind of drapes do you have in there?”
“Sheer.”
“Oh, okay. The foam will help prevent the sound from echoing off flat surfaces. Unless you happen to have any thick drapery lying around.”
She snarls, but she doesn’t mean it. “Fine.Fine. Take over my beautiful sitting room with all of my grandmother’s antique furniture and turn it into some dark lesbian music studio.”
“Now you’re talking.” I grin, pulling her in for another kiss.
“It’s a good thing you’re sexy,” she says, poking my shoulder. “Otherwise, this would never fly.”
I let my eyes drift down and smirk. Those loud nipples of hers are telling all her secrets. She follows my line of sight and crosses her arms over her chest.
My eyes drift up to the cleavage that creates, and she throws her hands in the air and walks toward the house. “I give up. I am a sucker. Make sure Al stays for dinner.”
I glance over at Al, and he gives me a thumbs-up.
I would offer to let him stay the night—with Kinley’s permission, of course—but I know Al. He prefers being on the road and really likes driving at night. He won’t stop until he hits Kansas, and I wouldn’t put it past the crazy bastard to try to make it to Topeka.
Kinley’s voice rings out from the house, distracting me.
“Why are therefiveguitars in my foyer?”
I snort and make my way up the steps. She’s standing by the five cases, unable to hide her amusement.
