Chapter 28
[Cadence]
“We’re going out,” Ford eagerly announces one night after a week of sneaking into his room. Days with him and his daughters are heavenly. Most of our time is spent orbiting the girls and their activities, plus Ford’s therapy sessions and my occasional break to put lyric thoughts to paper.
The nights of touching and discovering one another have been out of this world.
“I’ll get the girls ready,” I tell him. I’ve enjoyed every second of braiding the girls’ hair in the mornings or making ponytails with extra flare like little twists along their hairlines.
I’ve loved hanging out to play games or giggling at their antics.
Bath time. Bedtime. I’ve fallen into their routines, and it’s been a welcome reprieve for me.
“No, just us.”
I’d been peeling an apple because June doesn’t like the skin on her slices, and I pause, knife in hand, to look up at Ford.
“Ford Sylver, you asking me out on a date?”
“Would you say yes if I did?” His smiles have softened over the weeks I’ve been here. His eyes still piercing but lighter, playful, warm.
“Quack,” I tease.
He chuckles as he approaches me in his kitchen. A shiver runs up my spine every time I think about our first night together, right here near the sink.
“Get dressed. Something fun for you. Something that makes you feel good.”
My mouth falls open ready to tell him I feel good in all my clothing but the heat in his eyes stops me. He’s telling me to make myself feel sexy. Not so much for him but for me. And he’s taking me out.
For a moment, I hesitate. “We might get recognized somewhere public.” I’ve enjoyed our private little bubble here in Sterling Falls where we stick mainly to his house or the homes of his family.
The general public doesn’t seem to bother us, more star-struck by Ford’s return than caring so much about me.
“I’ve got it covered.” He brushes loose hair back over my ear, tickling the backs of his knuckles along my neck. These kinds of touches happen constantly despite our agreement to keep whatever we’re doing separate from the girls.
I don’t know how I’ll leave them when it’s finally safe to return to Nashville.
“Where are we going?”
The corner of Ford’s mouth crooks upward and he lightly swats at my ass. “It’s a surprise. Be ready by seven. Cowgirl hat required.”
Now I’m extra intrigued.
After we feed the girls dinner, Violet arrives to babysit, and Ford and I leave.
We travel along mountain roads vibrantly lined in shades of green. A golden cast covering everything as the sun slowly begins its exit on another day. Another day pretending this life, Ford’s life, is one I could live every day.
With the window down, I wave my hand through the wind.
I’m wearing a lightweight summer dress with my purple swirled cowboy boots and a light brown cowboy hat.
I feel flirty and giddy with Ford driving his Cadillac SUV, wearing faded jeans and another of the million worn cotton tees he owns.
He’s wearing a baseball cap on his head like he often does.
He earns bonus points the nights he wears one backwards in bed with me.
I smile at the images popping through my head and Ford’s eyes shift, catching me. “What?”
I don’t answer him, just watch him drive. His masculine forearm on display. Wrist dangling against the steering wheel. His profile rugged. The tips of his ears turn pink.
“You’re so beautiful, Ford.”
He risks a quick glance at me, his eyes wide.
“I mean it. Not just your physique.” However, there is that. “But the way you love your girls. Fatherhood becomes you.”
“I’m trying,” he says, his voice tight, panic momentarily etched into his expression.
“That’s all any kid can ask.”
Ford clears his throat. “How about we don’t discuss the girls tonight. No heavy stuff. Just us this evening.” He reaches across the seat to take my hand and brings it to his lips.
“Just us,” I whisper, wistfully.
When Ford finally pulls off the mountain road, his SUV jiggles and jostles over rutted terrain before he parks amid a ton of other vehicles.
“Where are we?” I ask, eager to be surprised while still curious.
“You’ll see.” Ford pops open his door and hurries around the truck to help me out.
Holding my hand, he leads me to the back of the SUV and pulls out a blanket and a cooler bag.
Tossing the blanket over his shoulder, he carries the pack while never releasing my hand.
As we walk over the choppy, grassy field mowed down by the number of cars that have driven over the space, Ford leads us to some sort of entrance.
A man wearing a red flannel opened to expose his bare chest greets us.
“Two,” Ford says, handing over a hundred-dollar bill.
“Hey, Ford. Rough season,” the man says.
Ford only chuckles. “Don’t I know it.”
When the man looks at me, he does a double take before his eyes narrow. “Are you—”
“Caitlin Calloway.” Ford drops my hand and wraps his arm around me, tucking me into his side. “This is Caitlin Calloway,” he states again, cutting off the man’s inquiry.
“You look kind of like—”
“Caitlin Calloway,” Ford says again. “Don’t be flirting with my girl, Perry.”
With my hand pressed against Ford’s chest, I peer up at him. His girl.
He’s also calling me Caitlin. He’s protecting me from recognition. He’s downright demanding I’m me. My smile grows wider, and I turn back toward this Perry guy, giving him a wink. “Yeah, Perry. Don’t flirt with me in front of my man.”
Perry incoherently stutters a second before waving us forward through the makeshift entrance. I flutter my fingers at the poor, confused guy as Ford leads us on and I hear music flare to life.
As we reach the top of a grassy knoll, our destination becomes clearer. The slight incline of the landscape forms a natural amphitheater filled with tons of people. Most are seated on blankets along the dip, while those closer to a stage stand.
“Is this a concert?” My question has an obvious answer from the guy breaking into song, strumming his guitar while his band plays behind him.
“I don’t have any idea if this guy is good. Or if the later band is either, but you said you never get to go to concerts as a fan and missed it.”
With my mouth agape, I turn toward Ford. “You brought me to a concert.” My throat is scratchy. My eyes prickly with happy tears. “This is so . . .” Thoughtful. Romantic. Special.
However, I don’t say any of those things.
I tip up on my toes, cup his jaw, and bring his mouth to mine kissing him here where we’re blocking others from entering the area and making a public scene.
The kiss quickly heats. Ford drops the cooler bag, whips the bill of his baseball cap backward and cups my face in return, taking our lips meeting to tongues swirling until I’m leaning into Ford’s strength and holding my hat on the back of my head with my hand.
“Let’s find a seat,” he breathlessly says after pulling away from me too quickly. He grabs my hand again and keeps us at the top of the knoll, leading us toward a stand of trees near stage right. Fewer people sit this high up. Darkness creeps in faster under the shadow of the trees.
Ford stops a safe distance from both the woods and others, spreading out a blanket and tugging me downward. He opens the cooler while I ask, “What is this place?”
“Perry’s Field. Every June they host a music festival. Most people are local talent, but sometimes he has bigger names, up and coming groups. I don’t know who this is.” Ford nods toward the stage. “But later tonight is some guy named Tennessee Hampton.”
I pull my gaze away from the stage and blink at Ford. “I’ve heard of him. He has a song on country radio.” And I’m betting he’ll have more in the future.
“So he’s good?” Ford questions, giving away how little he knows about country music.
Leaning toward him, I bop his nose. “You did good, cowboy.” He’s so sweet and I can’t seem to stop touching him.
Or kissing him. I steal another one and be quick to draw away.
Only Ford catches the back of my neck and brings my mouth to his again.
The kiss is slow but no less heated than only moments ago.
He takes his time to tug at my lips and suck at my tongue before releasing me.
“I’m promising myself to be good, tonight.”
“Now, where is the fun it that?” I tease.
Ford and I haven’t had sex, but we’d done so much else and I’m never disappointed.
Our nightly hijinks are more than the act of two people coming together.
We’re learning what the other likes. We’re finding new things to do to one another.
The experience has been unlike any I’ve ever had, and I’m thinking that’s because I have real feelings for this man.
Lasting feelings that scare and thrill me at the same time.
He isn’t Evan. He is just Ford.
We smile at one another with my flirty question before Ford snaps off the cap on a beer and hands it to me. On this warm summer evening, we tap the long necks together and drink. And listen to music echo over the mountains in a little basket of space.
I’m certain I’ve never been happier.
As the first act finishes, I mention needing a bathroom and Ford leads me to the portable kind set up in long rows. Keeping his arms around me, my back tight to his chest, he rests his chin on my shoulder, knocking into my hat on occasion.
“Hmm. Didn’t consider the hat,” he mutters against my skin, pressing soft kisses there.
With my hand on my head, holding my hat in place, I smile and shiver. “That tickles.”
“I know something else that would tickle.” With a slight tilt to his hips, I feel what he means.
“Don’t tease me, cowboy.”
The line moves, and Ford walks me forward as if we are attached.
“You’re the one teasing me tonight, songbird. With this dress.” He hums at my neck again. “And those boots.” The hum turns to a low groan.
The distinct sound of a plastic portable potty door opening signals I’m up next, and I giggle as I shimmy out from underneath Ford’s arms. “Be right back.”
I’m still giggling as I do my business and praise the heavenly beings that there is toilet paper and hand sanitizer in the stall.
Stepping back out into the now dark night, I quickly find Ford still waiting on me.
He takes my hand again and leads me back toward our blanket.
Only we hardly stop as he whips off my cowboy hat and sets it down on the cooler bag then guides us beneath the nearby trees.
Seems a few other people have the same idea as Ford, and these are the moments I miss about music fests. The stolen moments on the edge of everything—potentially getting caught while getting frisky.
Ford backs me up against a tree and props his good arm over my head. With my back against the bark and my hands behind me, I tip up my face and meet his eyes.
“You’re so beautiful, Caitlin.”
Caitlin. Not Cadence. Not the superstar. Just a woman wanting to love a man. Could this be real? My throat thickens at the possibility. Words clog my airway.
Then he’s kissing me.
I remain with my hands pressed behind my back a second, just melting into the way Ford’s mouth commands mine. His tongue demanding. His lips sweet. But after seconds, I cannot resist touching him, and I fold my arms over his shoulders.
Ford leans forward, the length of his body meeting mine as the kiss turns more desperate, hungry even. His hand tugs up the side of my dress and he hums against my mouth. “This dress.”
The lightweight fabric slowly collects over his hand as he dips it beneath the material, running his large palm along my outer thigh.
His skin is hot against mine and a rapid pulse ratchets up between my thighs, but Ford’s hand doesn’t wander there.
Instead, he curls around to my backside and breaks our kiss before pressing his forehead lightly against mine.
“So fucking sexy,” he murmurs, kneading the hint of my ass that has escaped the high cut panty. He runs his fingertips along the swell where my butt meets my leg, then firmly cups me a second, tugging me tighter against his body. “I want to be inside you.”
“Yes,” I whisper, but I somehow know Ford isn’t going to take me against a thick tree trunk just feet from other couples making out and doing other things. I’m not opposed to such an idea, but Ford won’t do it. Not yet. Not here.
His mouth is on mine again, hot and heavy, and I fist my hands in his tee, holding him against me as I tilt my hips forward, nudging the hard bulge in his jeans. Ford grinds back as our mouths grow more impatient. His fingers tighten against my ass beneath the skirt of my dress.
And as we make out beneath the dark sky, sheltered underneath trees, I feel myself on the edge of everything in a new way.
I’m in love with Ford Sylver.
The first chord of the headlining band strikes up and Ford pulls back, looking up over his shoulder as if he forgot for a second where we are. I chuckle and drop my head to his chest, and he presses a kiss to my hair.
“Concert’s starting.” His voice is rough. His palm is still on my backside but holding me more than kneading my flesh.
“I hear that.” Stating the obvious, I lift my head and meet Ford’s eyes which are illuminated in the sudden brightness of stage lights beaming outward, reaching this dark corner.
Ford kisses the tip of my nose. Then one eye lid before the other. “Let’s go listen to the music.”
I nod, but I already have a soundtrack playing in my head. One that includes Ford, and his girls, and a life I never thought I’d have, complete with worldwide success and stolen moments.
Taking both my hands, Ford lifts them and presses a lingering kiss to my knuckles. “Thank you,” he whispers.
Something inside me cracks, and my voice matches the splintering. “For what, darlin’?”
“Just being here with me. With the girls.” He looks up at me as he lowers my hands.
“Thank you for letting me crash your party.” He’ll never know how much it means to me that I was able to escape to this small town and have the good fortune to end up being his roommate.
My good luck duck has been watching out for me.
Ford nods, then slips an arm around my shoulders and leads us back to our blanket.
Although Tennessee Hampton’s music isn’t romantic ballads, more gravelly tomes about heartbreak, Ford wraps an arm over my collarbone, and places the other around my belly, pulling my back to his chest, and we sway to the sound like we’re at a private concert.
One where only two hearts sing the refrain, thumping in time to the pulsing beat.
Love. Love. Love.