“I’ve never seen one before,” she told Jenna and Colt.
Jenna responded by tilting her head to lean it on Willow’s shoulder.
Colt cleared his throat and replied, “It’s a first for me too, Wills.”
Willow’s throat tightened, and everything inside her seemed to bloom. Maybe this was it. Maybe every little moment like thiswasthe good part amid the beautiful, the sometimes not so beautiful, and the ordinary. She just had to open her eyes and look.
The meteor shower culminated in a predawn bonfire and sing-along, the song list consisting of a little John Denver, a little Neil Diamond, and even a few Willow Morgan originals. When Willow returned home to find the guesthouse still empty, she strode straight into the bathroom, tore another sticky note from the padsomeonehad left on the counter, and next to the one that simply said,I’m all in, she added a second.
I am too.
Willow could wait for the other shoe to drop, for some sign that this—whatever she and Ash were doing—wasright, or she could open her eyes and look at what was right in front of her. Or what would be right in front of her in the next day or two when Ash returned.
She crawled into bed just as the sun began to peek above the horizon, exhaustion covering her like a weighted blanket so that despite the light creeping in through the shades, she sank into the mattress and, soon after, the oblivion of sleep.
She woke to the windows still framed in dim light and to solid arms clasped around her torso, her back pressed against a strong, solid chest.
Willow sucked in a sharp breath.
“I hid all the vases,” Ash said groggily. “Just in case.”
She spun to face him, taking in the sight she never imagined she’d be so happy to see.
“Your hair is wet,” she whispered, reaching to trace a line from his forehead to his cheek. And he was doing that no-shirt thing again that made it hard for her to think.
“Showered,” he replied, his closed eyes fluttering open. “Figured if that didn’t wake you that I was fairly safe from ceramic harm.”
Willow winced. “Thank you for your note,” she told him. “I’m sorry I let you leave without saying goodbye.” He was so close that she saw his blue eyes crinkle at the corners before lowering her gaze to confirm that he was smiling.
“You were spooked,” he replied, and she nodded.
“Still am. It’s going to take some time.”
He pulled her to him so that she had no choice but to hook her leg over his hip so she didn’t knee him in the groin.
“Thanks for your note too,” he continued, tracing lazy circles on the small of her back. “But are you sure?” he asked. “Because if it’s too fast, the couch isn’tthatbad,” he teased. “I just might have to take you with me.”
It was fast. And being this close to him, feeling him already hard against her, made her want to ignore every rational thought from now until eternity if it meant even an eighth of the pleasure she’d felt the other night. But Willow couldn’t let her libido make the decisions when her heart and both their careers were on the line.
She slowly lowered her leg and placed her knee carefully between his.
“I’m all in, Ash…for the song, first. We have to finish what we started professionally before we officially make it personal again.”
His finger stopped mid-circle on her back, and Willow swore she heard the sound of a record scratch.
“Oh,” he replied, all playfulness vanishing in one simple syllable.
“I almost lost everything before my career even started,” she continued. “And right now, I feel like I’m on a ship that could just as easily hit an iceberg as it could make it safely to port. If I want the freedom—and income—to make music on my terms, I have to give the label what they want for this album.”
Ash swallowed, and she watched a muscle in his jaw tick. “So…” he began with a soft laugh. “I guess while I was out of my mind missing you for two days, you were here drumming up a metaphor that makes you the Titanic…and me the iceberg.” There was no menace in his words, only simple resignation. “Guess that sounds about right.”
Willow shook her head and then cupped his face in her hands. “We’rethe ship,” she explained. “And we just need to steer it in the right direction. But that means one destination at a time.” She stroked her thumbs over his cheeks.
He nodded. “I get it,” he admitted. “Your career is important to me too.”
She furrowed her brows. “Andyourcareer. They’re both important.”
“Sure,” Ash replied absently. Then he slid his hands up her back, to her shoulders, and down her arms until he was gently clasping her wrists. “I should let you get your sleep. Heard it was a late night.”
