But something in me rebels at the thought. The crowds, the music, all of it belongs to a different version of mylife. A different version of me. I’ve spent the last two years trying to figure out who I am, if not a musician, and I don’t need the reminder of everything that came before.
I text her:
Enjoy your evening, darlin.
A few minutes later, I get a kissy-face emoji in response.
I smile at my phone like an idiot.
And then I put the screen down, pocket the phone, and head out to the pool.
Twelve-hour days of ranch work have built me bigger and tougher than any personal trainer in Nashville ever managed, and most nights the physical exhaustion is enough. But not tonight. I push through lap after lap until my shoulders burn and my lungs work.
But the energy my body’s humming with won’t be burned out with exercise.
Because the physical activity my body is craving?
It’s sex.
Sex with one particular, maddening, unforgettable redhead.
And right now she’s at a bar full of men who are allowed to want her. Allowed to shoot their shot with her.
What if one of them succeeds?
She said she was coming home tonight but it’s a summer night and the whiskey will be flowing at Sutton’s and she’s a beautiful girl.
Fuck, maybe I should go down there. Just to make sure nobody’s creeping on her.
The problem is that I don’t trust myself to sit next to her and take it easy. I’m gonna want to drape an arm around theback of her chair like I’m staking out my territory. I’m gonna give any guy who tries to talk to her the death glare.
I already know none of them will be worthy of her.
I’m her boss. Her employer.
I’mnother boyfriend.
I keep repeating it to myself as I do another twenty laps instead.
When my muscles and lungs are burning again, I take a break to float on my back for awhile and stare at the stars.
There was a time in my life where I could find inspiration in a view like this. Where I could find inspiration inanything. A stray overheard comment. The sight of the Milky Way over the mountains. A kiss.
Anything could be magic.
But the magic is gone now.
I’m still in the middle of swimming laps when I hear a car coming up the road. It’s fucking absurd, the way my pulse picks up as soon as I hear it. It has to be her.
I swim to the edge of the pool and slug back some whiskey. It burns down my throat, adding to the heat of the summer night, the blood already heating in my body.
The lamps are on low inside, and my truck's outside, so she knows I'm here.
“Walker?” she calls out tentatively.
“In the pool,” I answer.
There's a stutter in her step as she comes through the back door and her eyes find me. That bright blue gaze sweeps down my body. Over my chest, my abs. Lower.
