Page 45 of Rockstar Baby

The condoms didn’t mean I was thinking about Ivy. Naturally not. But I certainly wasn’t thinking about any other women, in Crescent Cove or elsewhere. In the month I’d been gone, I’d barely even noticed any of the other females in my midst. That was saying plenty since I worked with rockstars who paraded around enough beautiful ladies to make the mind spin.

But not mine. Only one woman had registered with me.

I reached across the seat to grab my leather portfolio, flipping it open to scan the sheet on the top of the pad inside.

Surrounded by fire

Soaked in her glow

Be with her tonight

Before I go

Tomorrow I’ll be on a plane

Gone far away

A lock of flame in my pocket

The words I couldn’t say

My excuse before was that we were thousands of miles apart. I didn’t have contact info, although that was probably partially my fault. Now I would have no such excuses.

Not that I had a handle on my emotions. I had barely come to terms with even having some, outside of the ones I needed to access to write a good song. Identifying them was way beyond my paygrade.

I just knew I was looking forward to seeing her again.

After grabbing my phone and my portfolio, I climbed out of the car and glanced toward the lake. I couldn’t see most of the water from this vantage point, but it looked so different without a layer of ice and frost. The April day was sunny and windy, with a nip in the air that necessitated a light jacket for those who weren’t hot-blooded.

As used to California as I was, I was fucking frozen. It couldn’t have been more than forty-five damn degrees, but a woman in shorts rollerbladed past me on the sidewalk.

She smiled at me, but I didn’t smile back. I didn’t know what to make of this small town charm thing. The friendliness of Crescent Cove’s citizens always slid over my skin like an ill-fitting suit. Some found California welcoming, but I was too busy working to even look around most of the time.

Here, it was impossible not to. Slowing down wasn’t optional. It was imperative.

Holy shite, there was a sailboat bobbing across the lake. Not a speedboat. A sailboat with its colorful mast billowing in the wind. My da would love such a thing. It would be a whimsical bit of fun for a man who rarely took time for anything but work. I should look into getting him one—

I tucked my portfolio under my arm and gripped my phone. What was I doing? First off, thinking of him as my da rather than simply calling him my father, even in my head. Then pondering buying him a fanciful gift. As if he’d know what to do with a sailboat. He’d probably laugh and clap my shoulder while he gently chided my impulse.

Hope you didn’t spend too much on that, boyo. You know I don’t have time for such things.

This damn town. It made a person wish. And pretend their life could be different than the way they’d purposely designed it.

The way that had worked just fine for them—nay, workedperfectly—for more than half a dozen years.

My phone buzzed in my hand. Another text from Kellan.

I see you standing outside. You sightseeing?

I sent him back a middle finger emoji and crossed the sidewalk to go into the diner.

The jangle of the bell made me swallow hard. I glanced around the place, filled to the brim with patrons on this sunny afternoon. Elvis wasn’t playing on the juke. Snow didn’t dot the windows. And Ivy didn’t come toward me wearing a smile and braids that made me think of altogether filthy things.

“Hello there. Can I help ya?” A smiling waitress—so not Ivy—rushed up to me.

My gaze drifted over the packed tables and landed on a hulking man sitting alone. He was crammed into the booth, his hood up, big can headphones over his ears. Shades and a beard disguised half of his face. No one paid him any mind as he tapped on the table with one hand and read his phone with the other.

“Meeting a friend. Thanks though.”