“So finish it.”
“I thought we were going hiking.”
The warmth of her slams me, even though we’re not touching. My palms ache to reach out and pull her into me, but I know that will frighten her. “You need to complete it, right?” I let my eyes drift open lazily, staring down at her. She nods, looking up at me uncertainly. “Then we stay. I can fill the time.”
She worries her lower lip. “I can just…write? I won’t bother you?”
Damn, she’s prettier up close than on stage than in her pictures.
“No, princess. My home is yours. Use it how you need. If you want a break, I'll be around.”
Her lips flicker. Once. “Stalking me.”
If that’s what you need to call it.
“That’s right.” I fold my arms and don’t move.
She leans forward. “You need a shower, Drake Bodyguard.”
I huff a laugh. “Is that a prerequisite for your songwriting abilities?”
“Yep.” She swings away, sashaying her hips in those torturous leather pants.
I swear my old shirt never looked so good.
Cha Cha’s music fills my home day after day. I feed her, and she sings. I swear the wind that slides between the mountains visits just to answer her.
Out here, where there’s no neighbors for miles, the only sounds are the creaks from the trees near the house, the occasional wild animal who don’t come near us, and her.
Having company is a different experience for me, too. I know from Cha Cha’s history that she’s rarely home. It’s why I chose to invade her home when I did, when she was on tour. The right thing to do? Hell, no. An example of where her security needs a level up, or five?
Abso-fucking-lutely.
I run through the plans of her house that I printed out earlier in the week as she watches me, picking at her ramen. I’m yet tosee her eat a full meal, but I’m working on it. The more energy she has, the harder we can train together. I refuse to let Cha Cha leave without knowing she can defend herself if I’m not around. That thought gives me pause, and I raise my head to find her watching me.
“You’re supposed to be eating, princess,” I say softly, breaking the pervasive silence that falls between us.
Night obscures the mountains outside, the glass reflective. We never did get that hike in together. I pencil it in mentally for tomorrow. Getting outside is good for her, and she should know the terrain if we stay here much longer.
Cha Cha leans forward and slurps her noodles. Damn, that’s another action I can watch all day. Just being near her is addictive. She finishes up, and pushes her bowl aside. I expect sass, but that’s not what tumbles from her puffy lips.
“Have you received any more letters?”
I cock my head to one side. “What makes you think I’m checking?”
She handed her email accounts over to me a few days ago, unwilling to see the evidence land there herself. Not that either of us expect the stalker to hack her; it’s Shayne we both expect to hear from. There’s been radio silence from her management team since the night I took her away from the stadium where the man who hunts her broke into her dressing room and destroyed her things. Shattered her mirror.
Wrote the message on the glass before he splintered it apart.
Cha Cha fixes me with a challenge she knows I won't back down from. “You’re checking.”
I laugh. “Yeah. I am.” I pick up her bowl and wash it, avoiding her hands when she tries to help. “No, there’s nothing. Not a thing, Cha Cha. I’ll tell you if there is.” I put the bowl away and turn back to find her still studying me.
“Will you?”
I let the quiet between us settle until it becomes too much. Bracing my elbows on the wooden bench top, I lean toward her. Tonight, she’s paired yellow latex pants—another prime pick from the team management pack—with a black knit halter top. There’s nothing beneath it, her body soft and free as she moves, swaying unconsciously toward me.
We’ve spent the last week orbiting around each other while she finishes her songs, producing one after the other. It appears that with the reduction of glitz, glam and distraction, Cha Cha is a powerhouse, discovering inspiration in everything.
