Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ben
W hat a weird thing, knocking on Whit’s door and knowing that inside would be one of the biggest rock stars on the planet.
Let’s set aside the fact that I was currently dating one of the biggest Country stars out there, that I got to hold her hand and eat grilled cheese at her kitchen table and fall asleep with her tucked under my arm on her ridiculously comfortable couch.
Yeah, never mind that because no big deal , right?
But I was actually kind of a fan of Jamie Morris.
In fact, pretty much everyone I knew was. He was just good . His band was good, his voice was good, and his songs were good. He hovered somewhere between the singer song writer and the rock star in that he wrote his own songs and had an awesome voice, but a darker edge than the solo acts usually had, which gave him a sweet spot where men wanted to listen, and women fell in love.
He toured like a banshee. I’d seen him in concert before deployment a few years back—dude was amazing live.
So knocking on that giant wood panel again felt more than a little surreal. Nikki opened the door and ushered me in, her phone tucked against one shoulder and her head. She jerked her chin toward the living room, and I nodded in thanks then walked around the corner to find my girlfriend, Country star Whit Grantham, sitting cross-legged with her guitar in her lap, jotting notes down in her notebook
Along with Jamie Morris, musical icon and rock god, breaker of hearts and stealer of souls (okay, maybe that was a bit much), holding his guitar just the same, his long-ish hair in one of those man-buns that only musicians can make look anything other than trying-too-hard .
Ho. Ly. Sh. It.
My heart rate reached a canter and kept on mounting, my palms beginning to sweat. Jamie Morris was the first to look up and notice me, and Whit must have seen his casual nod to me, because she turned around and rewarded my presence with a blazing smile.
Oh, I like her , my dumb heart thought at the sight.
“Jamie, this is my boyfriend, Ben.” She set aside her guitar and came to hug me, kiss my cheek, tug my hand in the direction of Jamie Morris.
“Good to meet you, man.” Jamie Morris stood and offered me a hand.
In an other-worldly moment, I stretched out my own hand and watched myself shaking Jamie Morris’ tattooed one, his strong grip grasping mine, then dropping it. He then backed up to sit on the couch and settle his guitar back on his knee .
I hadn’t spoken and cleared my throat. “Nice to meet you, Jamie Morris.”
Did my voice sound weird? Or was everything kind of weird right now—that strange tilt of the afternoon sun coming through Whit’s shutters, the flickering firelight, the recessed lighting in the ceiling, and was it hot? It was definitely hot in here.
“Wait, are you… is this really happening?” Whit yanked on my hand until I faced her, that gorgeous face full of amazement. “It is .”
My face flamed at her statement, and I ducked my chin, pulling a breath in through my nose to calm myself and get a break because I was embarrassing myself.
“You have at no point shown even the barest hint that you cared about celebrity. You were hardly even surprised when Reese introduced me. And now you’re speechless?”
I let out a strangled cough-laugh-bark thing, trying to cover my embarrassment, my nerves.
“I’m a fan. So sue me.” I must have been giving her the most pathetic look of all time.
Her wide smile looked so completely pleased, I couldn’t feel bad. I did not, however, take another glance at Jamie Morris, who I was man enough to admit was a super good-looking guy and all the more so in person. I could see why both of my sisters had been obsessed with him when he debuted his first album years ago. Hell, I sure had been.
The thought flashed across my mind: how is Whit not in love with this guy?
“You’ve met every single big name in Country. You’ve met all the living legends in Country… I just, I’m blown away. I didn’t even know you liked Jamie.”
A snicker came from the general vicinity of Jamie Morris, and then he spoke. “It may surprise you to find that a lot of people like Jamie.”
Whit shot him an annoyed look. “Yes, I know, Mr. Grammy himself, but please. I’m not kidding you. This man right here—” she gestured to me with a thumb over her shoulder, “—has met everyone. Half the time, he seems like he doesn’t even realize the person is famous. The other half, he’s practically rude to the person.”
“That’s not true!” I had to say something in my defense.
“If it’s Colton Danes, it’s true,” Whit said.
“Obviously Ben’s a man of discerning tastes,” Jamie Morris said, and when I met his eyes, he gave me an approving nod.
Somewhere in my head, I recognized I would likely never think of him as simply Jamie —he was Jamie Morris, and that was that.
“It’s not hard to feel a bucket full of disdain for Danes. He’s constantly hitting on you, so how am I supposed to act?” A wave of irritation ran through me at the memory of the multiple times I’d come upon Danes hitting on Whit in front of his own date or me.
Whit set a hand on my arm and squeezed so I’d look at her. Her eyes were soft as she said, “You do just fine with him. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
I found myself smiling back at her, my heart beating to a rhythm she set in me anytime we made eye contact.
“Can I get you some water, Jamie?” Whit asked, not looking away from me.
“Please.”
Lazy strums of the guitar filled the air around us as she took my hand and pulled me out of the living room through to the kitchen. When she got there, she dropped my hand and faced me, crossing her arms .
“So…”
My cheeks grew hot again, leaving me only mildly irritated that she’d pulled me away and I was now blushing for the second time in less than ten minutes. “So.”
“You’re a Jamie Morris fan.” She cracked a half-smile, but smothered it by pressing her lips together.
“I am.”
“How did you never tell me this?”
“It was irrelevant.” I let my eyes flick around the kitchen to avoid hers, but that was pretty impossible.
She blinked slowly and eyed me from under her lashes.
“Okay, fine. It wasn’t exactly on the top of my list to admit that I’m a moderately big fan of your ex-boyfriend. That just seemed weird.” I shifted from foot to foot, unable to find a comfortable stance.
She watched me for a moment, no change in her expression. Then she swallowed, and all at once, reached out, pulled my face to hers, and crushed herself against me in a kiss. Just as suddenly, she let me go. “I like you a little too much, you know?”
I was perplexed, thrilled, and now mildly turned on with a side order of still-awkward and over-excited that Jamie Morris was still sitting in the other room, strumming what must be one of his infamous practice guitars.
“Too much?” I asked, my voice coming from some other guy.
She just smiled, grabbed my hand, and said, “Come on, let’s go hang with your idol.”