Chapter 10
When Raine awoke the next morning, she felt better than she had in ages.
No…better than ever.
And she realized, as she took a long, warm shower, that it was true. She felt light and free, almost like a new person. It was the strangest feeling.
As she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, a little of the pink in her locks washing away with the suds, her mind went back to yesterday.
Despite the excitement of writing such a powerful song, the end of the day had been nagging at her.
What the hell had she done to make Quentin pull back like that, to flinch as if her hands had been radioactive?
Especially when they should have simply been enjoying the moment: she’d had a fucking breakthrough.
As hard as it was to admit it, she also knew he’d been one-hundred percent right in terms of her writing.
The recent songs she’d been working on up until now had been, for lack of a better word, safe.
Easy. Predictable, even. Although she believed her fans would have eaten it up anyway, she knew now that recording those songs would have made her a sellout.
There hadn’t been anything real about any of them.
It had been nothing but fake rage and tears for the masses.
And Quentin had seen through it all.
He’d seen her.
And, up until that odd moment at the end of the session, he hadn’t looked away from her ugliness.
As she toweled off, still turning over those last few minutes together, she thought maybe she’d figured out specifically what had caused his reaction.
It had to be when she’d touched his forearm.
That was when he’d backed away. Before that, she’d felt something else—some kind of shared creative joy and energy, something she wouldn’t be able to describe with words…
but, when she’d touched him, it was almost like a hug of friendship.
Raine wasn’t typically a touchy-feely type of person, but she’d learned after spending five years with Mal as a manager that he often calmed down when she’d do something like that.
There was something to be said about touch.
But that wasn’t why she’d done it. For some reason, she’d felt close to Quentin then, like they’d been partners who’d just won a battle—and touching his arm had felt as natural as breathing. After all, hadn’t they just been through that gauntlet together?
His reaction simply emphasized that she really didn’t know him any more than he knew her. She’d only been there a day, so what had she expected?
Today, she planned to go to the kitchen at seven to enjoy a cup of coffee and leisurely eat breakfast before working. If nothing else, she hoped it would signal that she wasn’t looking for a fight.
Of course, Quentin was already in the kitchen when she got there.
He held a mug of coffee in his hands and stood in front of the counter, looking through the almost-invisible window at the desert.
In the morning light, the scene was breathtaking—orange beams of light struck the Joshua trees and shrubbery in such a way to make them…
dare she say beautiful? She could almost understand why he’d chosen this place as his home.
Almost.
Hearing her shoes on the floor, he turned his head slightly. She said, “You guys don’t have a Starbucks downtown, do you?”
“There’s a coffee shop—but you’re right. No Starbucks. And downtown isn’t like L.A. If you blink, you’ll miss it. But it’s respectable. You can find almost anything you need there.”
She made her way toward the cabinet to search for a cup. “You sure about that? All I saw was a grocery store and a few tourist traps.”
“You came in on the highway and missed part of it. We have a few restaurants and hotels, some gas stations, bars, and liquor stores. A few stoplights and plenty of gift shops.”
“Stoplights? You’re kidding.”
“No. There’s even a small car dealership. Joshua Tree is a little bigger than you think, because you haven’t driven through town. But, yeah, if you’re wanting something that feels like L.A., you’re in the wrong place. And that’s what I like about it.”
“Whatever,” she said, opening a few cabinets. “Do you have any herbal tea, something without caffeine? Or should I go shopping?”
“There’s some over here,” he said, moving toward her and opening a drawer with a selection of various teas.
“And the kettle is here.” Bending over, he pulled out a stainless steel kettle and filled it with water at the sink.
Meanwhile, Raine tried not to notice the scent of the cologne he wore but it smelled spicy—and he had on a similar outfit today, one that she was beginning to think of as his uniform: dark plain short-sleeved t-shirt (today’s was navy blue), dark blue jeans, and those work boots.
She herself had worn something a little different today: an olive-colored long-sleeved t-shirt, faded jeans, and sneakers.
Feeling a little chilly when she’d gotten up, she’d considered bringing her leather jacket but changed her mind.
Working would warm her up. As for her makeup, she hadn’t put on the usual heavy eyeliner this morning, instead keeping it minimal, and had left her hair loose.
“Do you care if I eat what’s left of that pint of blueberries in the fridge?” she asked, her stomach growling. She’d hardly eaten since arriving here and it was catching up with her.
“Yeah, but you’ll want to wash them first.”
That was an invitation to help herself if she’d ever heard of it.
Opening the fridge, she refrained from making a wisecrack that she was shocked they had real food in town.
Soon, she was assembling a light but hearty meal while Quentin maintained his position looking out the window.
Even though she’d arrived an hour earlier, she realized then that he must have already eaten.
Or maybe he wasn’t hungry. Unlike yesterday, she hadn’t smelled the remnants of food when she’d entered the kitchen.
. “Do you want any toast?”
“No, thanks. There are a few jars of jam in the door of the fridge.”
“Do you have peanut butter?”
He gave her a slight smile as he turned back from the window and nodded toward the cabinet nearest the fridge. “Second shelf.”
There was something gratifying about doing it herself.
So many times back at home, she’d just eat at a nearby café or have something DoorDashed.
Then there was the road—and she ate out all the time while on tour.
Sometimes, she did get sick of eating out, but it was a way to be around people without having to connect.
After her second album, every time she went out, she’d risk being recognized.
As she started spreading peanut butter on her toast, she considered doing more cooking for herself when she returned to her apartment.
In Quentin’s kitchen, she could understand actually liking the process.
When she placed the knife on the counter, she poured the now hot water in the cup and put the tea bag inside so it could brew. As she moved everything to the table, Quentin put his coffee cup down and picked up the knife, washing it in the sink.
“I can get that when I’m done.”
But he finished washing it, then dried it and put it in the drawer.
Whatever.
Sitting at the table, Raine took a big bite of the toast and closed her eyes, relishing the way her taste buds lit up at the slightly sweet peanut butter. After a few seconds, she realized Quentin was taking care of everything she’d left on the counter. “I said I’d get that.”
“I’m just cleaning up.”
Damn, the man was anal. As an afterthought, she added, “I know it’s a rule to do it myself.
” And Raine was hungry, but she tried to keep herself from gobbling the food down as if she’d been starving.
Wow. It tasted so damn good. Way better than anything a restaurant would have put together and yet so simple.
“You sure you don’t want any of these blueberries before I polish them off?”
“Thanks but no.” As he poured himself another cup of coffee, he asked. “Will you need more hot water?”
“Um…maybe later.” She knew he wanted to put the kettle away, but she’d likely have one more cup of tea before heading to the studio.
“So what do you do for fun around here?”
“Why? Are you wanting to go clubbing? Are you missing the movies?”
“No. Unclench, man. It’s just a question.”
When he frowned, he turned back to the window. “I like to take walks when it cools off. And, uh, you could always go to the National Park. It’s not far from here.”
“I wasn’t asking about touristy shit. I was asking what you do.”
He didn’t answer at first. And, when he did, the coolness of his voice shut the conversational door. “I keep myself busy.”
Okay…so clearly he didn’t like talking about himself. When she finished, she stood. “Do you have a dishwasher?”
“Yeah, but I never use it. It’s just me.”
And that meant she’d have to do the dishes herself—even though Quentin had already proved that, if she waited long enough, he’d do it for her.
Considering she had to wash the plate, she decided to take care of the tea cup and spoon as well.
As she stood and walked to the sink, Quentin opened the door underneath it.
“Everything you need is down here.” She quickly spied dish soap and a bowl that held a sponge.
The new black nail polish wouldn’t stand up to the domestic chore, but it wasn’t like she was trying to impress him anyway.
After she’d halfway filled up the sink and washed the plate, she went to rinse it—but Quentin moved beside her and took it, running it under the water and then setting it on the counter.
While she wiped off the spoon with the sponge, Quentin pulled a towel out of a drawer by the sink and started drying off the plate.
Then it went right back in the cabinet where she’d gotten it.
This time, she simply handed him the spoon…and their hands almost touched.
It wasn’t as hard washing the dishes as she’d feared, but he reminded her to wipe off the countertop and the sink as well.
As she watched him putting the tea cup away before folding the towel and draping it over the handle on the oven, she realized that although he seemed overly particular, she could see that he was disciplined.
He had a lot of self-control and, much as she hated to admit it to herself, she found she was impressed by it.
And the silence here was becoming less deafening. Was that because of the desert?
This godforsaken place had, just two days ago, felt like she were being sent off to prison. Today? It felt almost like…a haven. How the hell had that happened?
Quentin said, “Ready to head to the studio?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
As she followed him down the hallway, she noticed something growing inside her, and it wasn’t her usual companion, the monster. It was something that felt so strange, so foreign, and it took her a while to recognize it.
Holy shit. She felt…safe here. Protected. Quentin’s order and even those stupid fucking rules felt like…like shelter.
And that scared the living hell out of her more than anything else.