“Why? Are you wanting to go clubbing? Are you missing the movies?”
“No. Unclench, man. It’s just a question.”
When he frowned, he turned back to the window. “I like to take walks when it cools off. And, uh, you could always go to the National Park. It’s not far from here.”
“I wasn’t asking about touristy shit. I was asking what you do.”
He didn’t answer at first. And, when he did, the coolness of his voice shut the conversational door. “I keep myself busy.”
Okay…so clearly he didn’t like talking about himself. When she finished, she stood. “Do you have a dishwasher?”
“Yeah, but I never use it. It’s just me.”
And that meant she’d have to do the dishes herself—even though Quentin had already proved that, if she waited long enough, he’d do it for her. Considering she had to wash the plate, she decided to take care of the tea cup and spoon as well. As she stood and walked to the sink, Quentin opened the door underneath it. “Everything you need is down here.” She quickly spied dish soap and a bowl that held a sponge. The new black nail polish wouldn’t stand up to the domestic chore, but it wasn’t like she was trying to impress him anyway.
After she’d halfway filled up the sink and washed the plate, she went to rinse it—but Quentin moved beside her and took it, running it under the water and then setting it on the counter. While she wiped off the spoon with the sponge, Quentin pulled a towel out of a drawer by the sink and started drying off the plate. Then it went right back in the cabinet where she’d gotten it.
This time, she simply handed him the spoon…and their hands almost touched.
It wasn’t as hard washing the dishes as she’d feared, but he reminded her to wipe off the countertop and the sink as well. As she watched him putting the tea cup away before folding the towel and draping it over the handle on the oven, she realized that although he seemed overly particular, she could see that he was disciplined. He had a lot of self-control and, much as she hated to admit it to herself, she found she was impressed by it.
And the silence here was becoming less deafening. Was that because of the desert?
This godforsaken place had, just two days ago, felt like she were being sent off to prison. Today? It felt almost like…a haven. How the hell had that happened?
Quentin said, “Ready to head to the studio?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
As she followed him down the hallway, she noticed something growing inside her, and it wasn’t her usual companion, the monster. It was something that felt so strange, so foreign, and it took her a while to recognize it.
Holy shit. She felt…safe here. Protected. Quentin’s order and even those stupid fucking rules felt like…like shelter.
And that scared the living hell out of her more than anything else.
Chapter 11
Almost two weeks later, the two of them had settled into a routine. They’d made a few adjustments to the music of her first song, refining it and making it better—and he’d helped coax her to continue writing more honestly. Every evening after dinner, she’d retreat to her room and force herself to look deep inside.
She was thirteen days in when she realized something huge.
She hadn’t taken a single Xanax. Not one. In fact, she hadn’t even thought about them—even with feeling a little stress here and there.
Before going to breakfast that morning, she poured the pills into the toilet. The rules were there for a reason and, as her respect for Quentin Russo grew, so did her thoughts about his wishes.
If she needed Xanax when she was back in L.A., all she’d have to do would be to call her doctor.
It wasn’t long before they were back in the studio, ready to finish up work on the second song and begin tackling the third. They’d both found that returning to yesterday’s work often got them in a good space to get started immediately instead of having to figure out where and how to begin that day’s work. Unlike the first couple of days, though, they were taking more time as Raine worked through her creative process with the goal of putting it all out there.
That first song had flowed easily like a mountain stream. The other songs, not so much.
Before they began the morning session, Quentin said something that almost made her feel like he’d been spying on her. “I just wanted to mention…I appreciate that you’ve been following the rules.”
A chill made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight. But she knew he hadn’t actually seen that she’d flushed the pills. “Yeah. I agreed to follow them.”
“I know, but—I can see that you’re taking them seriously and I thought I should mention how much I appreciate it.”
Um… “You’re welcome.”
