I can hear the smile in his voice.“I’m a songwriter.Pop mainly, but I mess around with a rock ballad every now and then—you know, get back to my roots.”
Ah.That explains this place.“I should have guessed.You have the whole”—I wave a hand over his body, my gaze catching on his arms, thighs, hair; it’s ridiculous that anyone can be that attractive—“hot-rocker thing going on.”
“Do I?”He leans closer.“Do you like it?”
Very much.
There’s nothing I can do to fight the flush that comes to my cheeks, and I know he can see it because his eyes start to sparkle.He really knows exactly the effect he has, and despite wanting to be mad at him for it, it only makes me want to kiss him.
I can imagine it all too well.The scrape of his beard against my skin.His bottom lip, pink and soft against my own.Would he be gentle?Tender?Or would he kiss with the same persistence he’s had all morning?Tongue and teeth and passion.I can still feel the force of his hold from earlier, how strong and solid he was against me.
I’ve been staring at his lips for too long.Tearing my eyes away, I expect to find him looking smug, but he doesn’t.Instead, he’s fond, as though we’ve been here before.As if we’re reliving a cherished memory.
It sets my insides going more than his flirting does.
“Do you like it?”I ask because I need a second to think, and maybe if I get to know him better, I can remind myself of why falling for him is a terrible idea.“Writing music?”
“I love it.It’s been my dream since I was a kid.”
My childhood dreams once seemed so possible.Now they feel like a fantasy, wild hopes wished on distant stars, never to be realized.
And yet …
Lucky makes me want to believe.
“What brought you here to Chance anyway?”
“Love,” he says.
And has there ever been a single word more capable of encapsulating a life?It’s thick with meaning, pure, drawn from the very source of him.
“Running to it or away from it?”
His eyes shine amber in the sunlight, flecks of gold glimmering with kindness.“Bit of both.”
“I’m surprised you stayed.”Would I?
I suppose I already am, and there is much more in Chance to love than another person.It’s easy to discover.The laugh of the kid running the coffee cart, every note pouring smooth and easy from the guitarist, a dad getting on one knee to fix the zipper on his daughter’s jacket.
“Some risks are worth taking,” he says.
He’s right.
Risks require unparalleled trust, as does love, and both require a strong heart.Why else would I have moved to Chance?This city is full of risk-takers.I admire that.It’s every reason I was drawn here and drawn to him.
“Or you’re just stubborn,” I say, and I mean it as a compliment.I’m stubborn too.
“See,” he says, sliding his arm around me.“You do know me.”
We’re joined, knee to hip to shoulder.We fit well together.
It gives me an idea.
“What are you doing on Thursday?”
“Anything you want, love.”
Hmm.Maybe there is a way I can salvage this.I can’t find a job in two days, not in this economy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t delay the apartment a little longer.Nothing major … just a nudge to give myself a little more time.
