“What’re you working on?”
“Nothing.” Absently, she jotted more notes in chicken scratch he couldn’t make out.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Another screenplay. Sometimes little ideas come to me, hence the—” She held up the notebook.
“That’s fantastic.” He missed doing that, finding fragments of ideas and letting them out on a sheet of paper. Letting the rhythm of the words do their thing.
“Do you ever miss this part? The creating?”
Only all the time. “Yeah.”
She paused. Thoughtful. “Then you should write that song for Eileen.”
No way in hell. Even if his muse hadn’t deserted him. “Eileen’s impossible.”
Kenzie shrugged. “Still, it’d be awesome if you did it.”
“Why are you so interested in this?” He shifted to turn to her, his seat belt cutting across his shoulder.
“No reason.” Her hair hid her expression so he couldn’t read her.
“Kenzie.”
She released a drawn-out breath. “I’m up for the lead in Eileen’s movie. I want it to be successful. And you doing the song would kind of be an endorsement after the whole toaster thing.”
Tucker’s gut tipped. He should’ve corrected that right away. “Even if I wanted to work with Eileen, which I don’t, I haven’t been able to write anything in over a year.”
Might as well let Kenzie in on his dirty secret.
Her green eyes got huge. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Hence the whole band blowing up and retirement thing.”
“Tucker, I’m so sorry.” Her palm rested against his biceps.
Her touch felt nice. Good. Right.
He reached for her, the skin of her jaw soft under the pads of his fingertips. He traced the soft spot to her neck. Her mouth parted.
Seat belt unhooked, he scooted across the bench seat into her space.
Lifting a handful of red hair, he breathed in the scent of vanilla and flowers. Her signature scent. She’d bottled it. Sold it. But it didn’t smell like this on anyone else. Not that he’d gone around sniffing women, but he’d smelled it in a bottle.
On Kenzie the scent was everything. She was her own brand of intoxication.
“Are you going to kiss me? Or what?” Her lips grazed the air above his cheek, the little hairs there standing at attention.
His mouth met hers, subtle then hungry.
“Oh my lord. Clint, they’re kissing.” His mother’s voice pierced the moment. “Just like in that movie she did with Carter Pearson.”
Tucker jerked back. Kenzie cleared her throat.
And the moment was gone.
Thanks to his mother’s love of movies and Carter Pearson.
