Page 33 of California Love Songs (The Davenports, #4)

Chapter Twenty-Three

C rystal woke and, in that half-dreamlike state, was still floating on what she thought was the most beautiful dream she’d ever had.

Then she opened her eyes and realized she wasn’t in her own bed, in her own home.

The events of last night came flooding back—images and feelings and emotions, complicated and incredible in equal measure.

Last night had been everything she’d ever dreamed of and more. It wasn’t just the physical. It was that sense of connection she already felt with Damien, intensified now by a night of intimacy.

She’d known she’d be in trouble if she followed her instincts. And now, in the cold light of day, she realized how very deeply that trouble ran. She’d called what she felt for Damien a crush . For fifteen years, she’d been fooling herself.

She turned her head to see him beside her, sleeping peacefully.

She had to hold back from reaching over and touching his face.

Tracing the shadow of stubble. Running her hands through those glorious curls one more time.

But she didn’t want to wake him. Just watching him sleep filled her with contentment…

even as she faced the truth that she’d been avoiding for too long.

She was in love with Damien Davenport.

Worse, Crystal had to accept the fact that her kind of love was the forever kind.

He might never love her back. Probably never would.

Why would he, when he could have anyone?

Anywhere. She was essentially a hometown girl.

She’d never wanted to be an international jet setter.

She didn’t envy him that. But she envied the world, getting to have him.

Of course he’d leave her. She understood that, understood that she only had whatever time he gave her until he packed up his guitar and once more, with a hug and a wave, left her as he’d done so many times in the years she’d known him.

Of all the men she’d met in her life, why did she have to fall in love with Damien?

Why did she have to love the man who couldn’t stay? It just wasn’t in his DNA.

Maybe the same way it hadn’t been in her father’s. But she hadn’t loved him any less for being unreliable; it just hurt her more.

But Damien? She’d known from the beginning that he was a nomad through and through.

Could she not have chosen to love someone more like herself?

Someone who would stick around and build white picket fences.

Put together swing sets in the backyard for the kids.

Why couldn’t she have fallen for Finn? But no, she had to choose a man who was as unattainable and constantly moving as the stars in the sky.

She couldn’t even hold him responsible for their relationship’s moving from a solid friendship to this—this crazy, passionate affair.

He hadn’t seduced her— she was the one who’d come to him last night.

She was the one who’d knocked on his door.

She was the one who’d pretty much given herself to him, no strings attached.

She had to accept that she’d chosen to do this.

Chosen to put her heart in danger. So even if she was never going to be anything more than Damien Davenport’s latest fling, at least she had that. For now.

And for now that had to be enough.

She watched his strong profile, felt the warmth of his body beside her in bed, and despite all her hard truths, the longing for him did not subside.

As much as she knew this would end in heartbreak and tears, she didn’t have the strength to walk away.

No. She loved Damien. And for as long as she could have him, she would build memories.

Hoard them away like money in a savings account, so that she could live on them for a long time to come.

She had worked through her feelings enough that by the time he stretched and opened his eyes, she was ready with a bright smile.

As those gorgeous gray-green eyes settled on hers, she felt as though she were the only woman in the world.

In this moment, she was as special to him as he was to her.

What a gift he had that he could make her feel this way.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she whispered back.

He kissed her and then smiled so broadly and almost goofily that she giggled.

He reached out and skimmed a hand over her breast, and her tired body leaped to life yet again. How many times had they made love in the night? She’d lost count. She’d never known it could be like this. Where his hands had traced a path along her breast, his lips followed.

“Thank you for dropping by last night,” he said against the slope of her breast, his voice rough and early-morning sexy.

“Thank you for inviting me in,” she responded. Her voice was a purr that didn’t even sound like herself.

Once they’d fully satisfied each other one more time, he said, “Do you want some breakfast?”

She realized then that the benefit of their situation was that even though they knew the excitement of new lovers, they also had the comfort of an old friendship.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Is it going to be something plant-based, with a lot of seeds and tofu?”

He chuckled, swinging out of bed and standing to stretch, all naked and gorgeous.

Everything she’d ever wanted. “I always keep a few other things stocked in the house. You never know. One of my siblings, most likely Mila, will turn up at the door and demand ‘real food.’ Let me see what I can rustle up.”

She didn’t even have to tell him her likes and dislikes. She’d been to enough Davenport family breakfasts that he already knew how she liked her eggs, that she preferred whole wheat toast over white, and was a sucker for something sweet.

Luckily he left the room before she had to get out of bed, because she wasn’t quite brave enough to stand there naked in the morning light.

As soon as he was gone, she dashed into the ensuite bathroom and treated herself to a long, hot shower with his expensive shower gel.

It smelled like Damien and as she lathered herself up, she couldn’t help but feel sexy all over again.

It was like she was wearing him. But when she got out, she had no choice but to actually wear last night’s clothes.

So as she left the bedroom and headed downstairs, she really felt as though she was doing the walk of shame.

In the kitchen, she found him in a pair of cut-off shorts and an old T-shirt worn for comfort rather than style. And still her mouth went dry at the sight of him.

He was scrambling eggs and humming some tune she didn’t recognize. He already had a cup of green tea on the go, but bless him, he had made a pot of coffee for her. She went straight to it. She needed a decent cup of coffee more than she needed to take her next breath.

And somehow they were just easy with each other. She’d worried that it would be super awkward, but maybe they had the template of all those big family breakfasts to go by. So while he finished the eggs and put in the toast, she set the table and sliced some fresh tropical fruit.

It was companionable. Nice. When they sat down to breakfast—which for him was a bowl of something that looked very much like seeds and tofu, although he did join her in the whole wheat toast—he said, “That was so great, what you and Erin did yesterday. You really helped me out of a tough situation.”

Crystal shrugged. With a cheeky glimmer in her eyes, she said, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“I hope when the interview airs, it puts any gossip to rest.”

Crystal nodded. “I hope so too. I can see why you were so impressed with Opal when you first heard her. That girl has talent coming out of her ears.”

Damien seemed interested in her opinion.

“You really think so? Now that she’s come here and there’s all this media interest surrounding her already, I’m worried I may have overstepped.

I don’t want to give her false hope. No one knows better than I do how tough it is to make it in the music business. ”

She loved that he felt nervous on Opal’s behalf. “I’m no expert,” she said, “but even in the few hours you were working together, I could hear that song getting better. And I love her voice. I love the honesty in her lyrics.”

He nodded and took a mouthful of his healthy bowl. “Good. I want to make sure that I’m helping her and not letting my big old ego get in the way.”

Crystal smiled. “For one of the biggest rock stars in the world, your ego is really not that bad. Your taste in breakfast, not so much.”

He laughed and took a sip of green tea. “You know my family. If anybody’s ego gets too big, there’s always a Davenport around to smack it down.”

Betsy and Howie Davenport had managed somehow to raise their children with a belief in themselves and their talent, but without big egos. It was an incredible feat.

“Well then,” she said, “I don’t feel so bad telling you that you make a mean plate of scrambled eggs.”

There was a pause, and then Damien reached across the table and took her hand. She glanced up to find him looking at her in a way that stirred her blood. Again.

“So… I did not see this coming. When you used to get me my first gigs in high school, I got to know you as a friend. You’ve been one of my closest friends—my best friend—for a long time. I never thought we’d?—”

She swallowed hard. Was he already ending it? She had to ask. “Are you sorry it happened?”

His look of shock was so real that there was no faking it. “Are you kidding me? Last night was—I don’t even have the words. It felt like… when we were dancing. That incredible chemistry and the way we moved together felt so right, like I knew your body. It was… everything.”

She felt the same way. Intimacy with Damien was like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life. Given that he must have been with an enormous number of women compared to the few men she had slept with, she was incredibly happy that his world had also been rocked.