CHAPTER NINE
Jaxon
Ispend too long changing out of my alter ego, Bert. I take off the furry mask that has protected me from thinking too hard about what I’m actually doing. Lying to a woman I’ve asked to give me honesty.
It’s wrong. I’m a selfish person. And the furry costume was a shield from admitting that, because she’s right, I put that shit on Bert instead of myself.
Taking off the suit, the shit all lands on me.
I sink down to sit on the edge of the bed and drop my head into my hands. She’ll find out how I’ve lied about the most vital parts of who I am, my name and my career, and she’ll be too mad to see that I gave her the more valuable part of me, my personality separate from my career and my identity.
That probably won’t be enough in the end. Not that it matters. As soon as she sees the latest tabloid news about me and my ‘cheating’ ways, she’ll want nothing to do with me.
Sitting up, I rub my hands over my face. I don’t go into the bathroom and primp. I change my clothes and put on deodorant and head downstairs, because if her hatred is the price I have to pay for being with someone for the first time in my life without them knowing me as famous first and human second, I’m going to take it.
I want to find out who I am when I’m human first and a rock star second.
Downstairs, she’s got the map laid out on the table. She looks up when I walk into the room. Her eyes don’t light with manic excitement like so many fans’ eyes do when they meet me. Hell, she doesn’t even smile.
I’ve caught her mid-thought and I’m just the guy who’s helping her find something lost.
I’m just the weirdo who dresses like Bigfoot. “What do you think about having a wedding for Barley and Begonia?”
Her brow wrinkles in confusion for just a moment, her thoughts skidding and swerving before hitting my words like a brick wall. “What makes you think they want to get married?”
“Other than the fact they were curled up together when we got back and didn’t even care enough about us to get up, come over, and say hello?”
“They were probably scared of you in that furry costume.” She looks back down at the map, dismissing me.
It’s been a very long time since I’ve been so casually dismissed. Have to say, I don’t love it. “Are they spayed or neutered or whatever?”
She looks up, her smooth, alabaster brow crinkling again, her perfect, pretty lips turning down. “I didn’t even think of that.” She shakes her head. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Does that mean they aren’t?”
She frowns in thought. “Jared, my cousin Brittany’s husband, is a vet. He says it’s too hard to spay female goats. It’s dangerous. The males are typically castrated, but Barley came to us as a baby and we never had it done.”
I wince at the very idea of doing that to my little buddy, but I definitely don’t need a whole herd of goats running around in my backyard. “I guess I need to get that done.” Which would require me going to a vet clinic and being recognized. Maybe Clover or Asher would take Barley in for me.
I’d ask Honey, but then I’d have to explain why I can’t be seen in public.
She nods. “I can ask Jared about coming out here and—” She pulls out her phone.
“No,” I say, way too vehemently. “Look, my aunt doesn’t know I’m here, and she definitely doesn’t know about the Bigfoot thing. The fewer people who know…”
Honey nods, but she doesn’t look convinced. “Jared is very discreet. He’s a good guy.”
“I’ll think about it. My point is, they ought to be officially married in case there are babies.”
She rests her chin in her hand and her gaze goes distant. “There couldn’t be many guests because you’re in hiding or whatever.”
Most people in my life would remind me that Barley and Begonia are goats, then do whatever I wanted the moment I insisted. Honey appears to be actually considering my idea as legitimate. “Barley and Begonia probably don’t have a lot of friends.”
She nods. “They were both loners, even when they had the opportunity to befriend the other animals on the farm.” She looks up at me. “Who would officiate?”
“Are you licensed to marry farm animals, by any chance?”
She smiles, and it’s like striking the perfect note in a song I’ve been working on all day. The smile lights her entire face, making her eyes sparkle, raising her delicate cheekbones and making me want to kiss her more than ever.
With all that light in her eyes, I realize how much dark was resting in them before.
“I am, in fact, licensed to marry all varieties of farm animals, since that’s not actually a certification that exists in the world,” she says.
“Perfect.” I open my mouth to suggest inviting Clover and Asher, but remember her insistence that her sister not know about our arrangement and shut it. I don’t want to do anything to vanquish her smile. “It’ll be a small wedding, but I think that’s just what Barley and Begonia would prefer.”
“My next day off is Thursday.”
“Perfect. Thursday it is.”
“Want me to call Jared about coming out here to neuter Barley?”
I bend over the map. “Where were you thinking about trying next?”
Honey hesitates for just a moment, before accepting my subject change and pointing to a spot on the map. “This area, at the higher elevation, might have more boulders and more places to hide a treasure. Have you been up there?”
I study the area, comparing it to the places I’ve wandered. “This would be easier if we had a more recent map with trail names on it.” I straighten and head toward the stairs. “I think I might have one upstairs. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”
I take a deep breath as I walk away from her, because I don’t like the feeling of moving out of her orbit. I knew it was a bad idea to get closer to her, but I had no idea how much I would like her and how deep the connection between us would feel after so few hours together.
She doesn’t seem to feel it, so maybe I’m safe.
It takes me about fifteen minutes to find the map among my piles of handwritten song lyrics and books I’ve pulled off shelves for one reason or another. I grab it and turn to the door, only to see Honey standing in the doorway.
“You play the guitar?”
Shit. “Why did you come up here?”
She flinches and takes a step back. I hate that step back with every fiber of my being. “You were gone a long time. I thought I’d help you look. I didn’t mean to… I mean, I didn’t think… This is your private space.” She turns to leave. I’m surprised at how upset she seems. It doesn’t fit with the woman I’m getting to know.
“Honey. It’s okay. I overreacted. You just surprised me.” And I hate that I’m going to have to bury myself under more lies to make this right.
She turns. “No. You’re right to be upset. This is your home. I have a complete respect for privacy and I guess…” She looks away, chewing on her lip. “I guess I just felt comfortable here, and I forgot we aren’t friends.”
Damn, I’m a bastard. “We are friends. I’m sorry. Come on in.”
She takes another step back. If she’s not careful, she’s going to tumble down the stairs.
I lunge and grab her hand, pulling her into the room. I’m not prepared for how her hand feels in mine, so small and warm and right. “Get in here. You can look around.”
She looks down at the map in my hand. “You found it. We should just go back downstairs.”
Letting go of her hand, I grab one of the three guitars in the room. “I do play the guitar. I’ve been playing since I was six.”
“Me, too.” Her gaze roams over my favorite guitar, the wood worn smooth by use over the years.
“You play?”
She looks up at me, meeting my gaze with such intensity I feel dizzy. “I’ve been playing since before I could read.”
“Show me.” I hand her the guitar.
The look in her eyes as she considers my command is wistful. The love she has for the instrument is clear and speaks to the love I feel for music.
“We should make our plan for tomorrow.”
I should let it go, let her walk out of here and keep that space between us. Unfortunately, I’m a spoiled rock star used to getting my way. “You got anywhere to be tonight?”
She hesitates only a moment before she takes the guitar. I start to offer her a seat in my desk chair, but a glance that way reminds me of the lyrics covering my desk. I don’t want to answer the questions those would evoke.
“Let’s go downstairs,” I say instead.
She looks around the office one more time and nods. “Sure. There’s more room to sit down there.”
“What kind of music do you like to play?” I ask as I follow her down the stairs.
“I play Bluegrass mostly. I listen to metal and would love to learn how to play an electric guitar some day.” That would explain why she doesn’t recognize me. If she doesn’t listen to pop music and doesn’t pay attention to celebrity gossip, she’s probably never seen me before I ran naked into my backyard.
“An electric guitar’s not so different.”
She pauses at the bottom of the stairs and looks back at me. “You’ve played one?”
I’ve played just about every kind of guitar there is, plus piano and drums. I’m best on the guitar, but my piano is probably what I miss most about LA.
“A bit.”
“Do you have one here?”
“I don’t. Do you want anything to drink? Are you hungry?”
She stops in the living room and plops on the couch without a mention of the maps we need to go over. Eagerly, she pulls the guitar to her chest and strums. “I’m good.”
She puts her fingers to the fretboard and plays in earnest. Two things become immediately clear. One, she is definitely playing bluegrass and two, she’s really talented. She has a natural, comfortable attitude around the instrument, just like someone who’s been playing since childhood. Just like me.
“Do you only play bluegrass?”
She looks up at me, eyes narrowed. “You don’t like Bluegrass?”
I never listen to it, so I don’t really know. “I don’t have anything against it, I’m just curious about your range.”
She nods, relaxing, and switches into an alternative rock song seamlessly. I can’t help singing along.
She stops abruptly, fingers stilling on the strings, and stares at me. “You can sing.”
“I dabble.” I am the worst kind of liar.
“No,” she says. “You can really sing. You’re better than Asher.”
Now, I’m confused. “I’ve never heard Asher sing.”
She waves a hand. “He’s the lead singer for our band, but you have an amazing voice. You’d be perfect…” She trails off, a crease between her brows the only sign of her annoyance. “But you’re in hiding.”
“You have a band?”
“My sisters and I do. Our dad thought he could get rich touring us around the country.”
That sounds too close to home for comfort. “Did you?” I sound like a frog croaking. “Did you tour around the country?”
“We didn’t have a singer and Dad lost interest.”
She starts back up. “Keep singing.”
I move over to the couch and sit next to her because, dangerous as it is, I want to be near her. As she hits the chord that’s my cue, I sing. I don’t hold anything back and I don’t consider that maybe a part of me wants her to figure out who I am.
Surely, she’s heard one of my songs somewhere, at some point in her life.
If she figures it out, she takes the choice out of my hands and I know, left to my own devices, I’ll be walking down the aisle to her, still holding onto my secret.
The song ends, and we sit in silence. I’m assuming she’s as awed as I am by what we just created.
“Son of a bitch,” she says. “This is like the worst sick joke.”
I twist to face her, sure she’s discovered my secret. Apparently, I have no sense of self-preservation, because I lean in closer. “What is?”
“That you can sing like this and you’re out here hiding from the world. Our gig is in Vance Vale. Your aunt won’t go all the way out there, right? And how many people from Catalpa Creek would actually recognize you?”
All of them. “I spent every summer here growing up, Honey.” She has no idea how badly I wish I could do this for her. I reach up and brush back a strand of her ebony hair, pushing it behind her small ear, be-ringed with six silver earrings. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare and she leans toward me, her sweet scent filling my space. Her gaze drops to my lips, and she licks her own. I meet her halfway, pressing my lips gently against hers. She lets out a little gasp and I straighten.
“Sorry. Obviously I read that—”
She throws her arms around my neck and pulls me down. Her lips part as she presses them against mine.
The risk cost analysis in my brain has only gotten better over the years, because being famous makes everything riskier, but all I can think about as I slide my tongue between her lips is how sweet she tastes and how much this feels like drowning.
It’s the good kind of drowning. The kind of drowning that’s sinking into pleasure and sensation. I’m surrounded by her scent of roses and something that’s just her. Her soft hair brushes my cheeks as she kisses me with the same abandon and wildness I feel. Like she can’t get enough of me, like she wants to kiss me all day.
I nip the corner of her mouth and press my hands flat against her back, pulling her tight against me.
She moans, then pulls away, leaping off the couch.
I’m dazed as I look up to see her frowning, her brow creased.
“This is a bad idea,” she says. “I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t even thinking about kissing you, but then…” She presses a hand to her lips. “I can’t do this, Mac. I can’t just do what feels good and make a stupid choice.”
That hits me right in the chest so hard I’m glad I’m sitting down. “I’m a stupid choice?”
She looks at the ceiling and pulls in a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant. This is about my sisters. I can’t make it about a guy.”
“You aren’t just some girl to me, Honey. I really like you.”
She pops her hands on her hips. “That doesn’t make it better. I don’t want to sound like I’m feeding you a line, but I’m genuinely not in a good place right now.” She hesitates, narrowing her eyes. “And you’re on sabbatical from whatever college you work for. I’m assuming it’s not the university here, since your aunt doesn’t know you’re in the area, but I don’t know, because I don’t know you.”
“I teach at a college in California.” I get as close to the truth as I dare. “And you do know me. You know I love to play guitar and I’m outdoorsy. You know my best friend is a goat and—”
Her eyes go wide. “Your best friend is a goat?”
I hadn’t put a lot of thought into the words before I spoke them, but I can’t deny them. I have a lot of friends, but few I trust and even fewer I can count on when things get rough. Since my messy, explosive break up from Lucia, I’ve heard from only a handful of people and mostly just to make sure we’re still on for whatever project we’d agreed to work on together.
Rafaella and Heidi have been the only ones truly on my side, and I pay them.
“Barley is the only person in my life who doesn’t want something from me,” I say, more honestly than I mean to.
I freeze for a moment, but Honey just looks at me sympathetically. “It’s lonely, isn’t it?”
“So lonely.”
“So maybe you just kissed me because you’re lonely and horny?” She says it hopefully, and it’s an arrow to my chest.
“Sure.” That’s what she wants to hear, and I can’t bear more rejection right now. “You’re right. We shouldn’t have done that. We’re partners. We don’t need to muddy the waters.”
She nods, but she’s frowning thoughtfully. She tilts her head toward the door. “I should go?”
“Stay. If you leave, I’ll just sit here, strumming my guitar and singing sad, lonely songs.”
She smiles, finally. “That does sound awful.”
“It’s the worst.”
She tilts her chin down, her long lashes brushing her cheek as she blinks. “I should warn you, I’m hyper competitive, even when it comes to playing music.”
My heart swells with a dangerous kind of hope. “I can handle it.”