Page 78 of Rockstar Baby

Laughing right then couldn’t have been wise. I just couldn’t stop myself. “Christ, you’re a sight,” I said as she whirled to stab her finger into my chest.

“Andthat.That isn’t fair. You wind me up and then you compliment me and deflate any argument I might have. You know why? I have no reason to argue. You never lied to me. It was always just sex and you’d be gone in the morning.”

I tried to keep from checking out of the corner of my eye if we were being overheard. Not important. She was entitled to her feelings—including how loudly she was currently conveying them. So what if this was a farm meant for families and children?

It wasn’t as if a telephoto lens would come through the trees of this bucolic scene and catch something unsavory for a tabloid. I wasn’t a true rocker, after all. I just played one now and then when it suited my aims.

As I did most things. This weekend, I’d played the role of boyfriend.

Soon enough, I’d play the role of the asshole who couldn’t commit and hop on a plane without a care in the world.

Right.

I nodded toward the grove ahead of us. “Let’s walk, yeah?”

She gave me a healthy dose of side eye, but she did as I asked. She made no move to get closer to me, so I gave her some space. It was better for her at least, if not for me.

We wandered along the path, passing only a few people coming out of the grove. The deeper we went, following the beams of the descending sun, the more alone we became. After a bit, no one passed us, and I would’ve sworn it got chillier.

The scents of fresh earth and flowers I couldn’t name filled my head. We were surrounded by trees, cushioned in a silence broken only by occasional songs from the birds overhead.

We might have been the only people left on earth.

The property seemed vast. Endless. As if we walked forever. Then she surprised me by taking my hand and veering off the path, rushing so fast that I had to chuckle as I picked my way over exposed roots and around rocks and greenery. She seemed to know where she was going, and I definitely did not.

We emerged into a clearing that led to a short rise. I followed her up it and caught my breath as we stood together viewing the countryside in all its rose-gold splendor below us. Trees bursting with new life, miles and miles of land. Farms and quaint country churches with their steeples mixed with sprawling ranches and businesses in the hills and valleys below. I couldn’t take it all in and had to shield my eyes from the last of the sun. But the air seemed even clearer up here, as if it wasn’t my imagination we were closer to the sky.

Fanciful sot, aren’t you?

But I wouldn’t have said I was particularly. At least not before Crescent Cove and Turnbull had gotten their hooks into me.

Before Ivy.

I unfolded the spread I’d tucked in my guitar case, then sat in the grass and patted the spot beside me. She joined me on the ground, her knees bumping mine. I smiled in silent thanks.

She always eased the way.

Swallowing the knot in my throat, I pulled out my Epiphone. I could feel her shock as if it was a tangible thing.

I wanted to make a joke.Thought I was carrying this as a prop, did you?

But I said nothing so as not to diminish the moment.

The words I’d written for her came easily to hand as I strummed the opening chords. I’d toyed with the song here and there, but it was still very much a work in progress. Still, new lyrics came to me, aided by the soft flutter of the breeze through her hair and the gentle, insistent press of her leg to mine.

A steady reminder.

Light in her eyes, not meant to go out

Broken by me, never

Not a doubt

But places inside me

She has laid claim

To go on with her