Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Looking back over my shoulder, I catch her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t play. I play the guitar all the time. It’s still one of my biggest outlets, along with surfing. But . . .” Should I confess my fears? She shared hers, so is this only fair?
“But what?”
There’s a reason I didn’t want her to know I was in a band. “I don’t want you to see me differently. The fame is nonsense. The money is . . . it’s whatever.”
“The music is what matters, Laird.” She reaches forward to rub my shoulder. “You don’t have to play if you don’t want to. I won’t be upset.”
I strum, still glancing back at her. The drunken delight she wore on her face at Maggie’s has changed. Her eyes are hooded, and her smile is softer, one that I have a feeling most will never see. It’s the one she smiles when looking at me. I reach over and tap her nose because she’s irresistible, but then start playing a song this time. “I’ll leave the singing to Nikki.”
“You sing with her, sometimes even duets.”
“Why do you have to call me out like that?” I give her a wink and a click of my tongue.
“What can I say? I’m a fan.”
Turning back to watch my fingers move across the strings, I hide my grin from her. She’s a fan. I fucking love it. I glance back. “I’m a fan of yours as well.” I kick into the chorus and sing a few lines about sunsets over San Diego and getting laid at the beach on Coronado. “Nikki still laughs every time I sing those lines. She doesn’t know they’re based on real-life experiences.”
“Trying to make me jealous again?”
I keep singing, improvising as I go along, “If by jealous you mean telling all of Maggie’s that I was a great lay? Then yes, that’s what I’m doing.”
“Those weren’t my words.”
“What did you say, then?”
“I’ll have the cheeseburger with extra pickles.”
“Same thing.” I keep playing until she’s laughing so hard she falls back.
After a quick wipe of tears from laughter, she says, “If this is how it’s going to be every time we go out, then I might have to keep you at home.”
Home. It’s not lost on me. Home with her sounds like something I want to happen. “I’m yours. I’ll give you anything you want, baby.”
Setting the guitar down, I lean over to kiss her, but as always with her, one thing leads to another. She stops suddenly, her eyes focused on mine, and grabs my shoulders. Her mouth falls open, and she takes a breath. “Say that again.”
“What? I’m yours. Is it not obvious?” I chuckle.
Sounding serious, she says, “No, the other part.”
“I’ll give you anything you want?”
“That.” She scoots forward on the couch, and tears overwhelm her. “I just had a memory.”
22
Poppy
“Holy shit!”
Laird jumps from the bed, ready to take down an intruder as every light in the house comes on, the appliances beep, and the alarm rolls through its reset tune.
Trying to figure out where my heart leaped, I sit up in bed, panting like a wildebeest, and slowly realize what’s happening. “Oh my God, Laird. You scared me.”
He slips on jeans, not bothering to fasten them, and is almost into the hallway when he reaches toward me in protective mode. “Stay here.”
“Guess the electricity is back on.” The clock flashes beside the bed, so I have no idea what time it is. I can still tap our phones since we charged at Maggie’s while at dinner. 3:46 a.m.
My head pounds, so I drink the water Laird put on the nightstand for me before bed and then slip on my sweatshirt and pajama pants. Padding down the hall into the living room, I find him resetting the alarm box at the door. He glances back. “Who knew we left so many lights on?”
“My heart is still racing.”
“Not a good way to wake up.”
I stand there, crossing my arms over my chest, noticing how domesticated this scenario is. I had a flash of a memory last night before it vanished, but this is a real peek into the future. I could only be so lucky.
Instead of standing there doing nothing, I work my way through the kitchen, resetting the clocks on the ovens and the microwave. I head down the hall to the room where I was staying and set that clock as well. As soon as I flip off the overhead light, I hear Laird’s footsteps, though I don’t see him.
He’s a figure in the dark hallway when he approaches. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Rubbing my shoulders, he asks, “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” Reaching out, I find the comfort of him to hold on to, already knowing my hand is over his guitar tattoos. “It’s good to have electricity again. Gives us more options for things to do, and I can cook for you.”