Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Pure and total ecstasy. That’s what waking up in Danny’s arms every morning this week felt like.
I stretched and rolled over, his heavy arm draped across my shoulders. I planted a kiss on his cheek before moving his arm, attempting to untangle myself. Without opening his eyes, he grabbed onto me, pulling me toward him and burying his face into the crook of my neck.
“Danny,” I giggled. “I’m going to start the coffee.”
“Don’t leave.”
“You have to be up in fifteen minutes anyway.”
The guys were headed to the mountains again. We’d fallen into a routine the last few days; I’d wake up, make them breakfast, they’d go off and do whatever it was they were doing out there, and I hung back at the cabin. I usually spent most of the day writing.
Sometimes, Danny would come home early and take me somewhere. Yesterday it had been an ill-fated attempt to teach me how to cross-country ski. It’s a good thing he wasn’t looking for a woman to match his athleticism, because that certainly wouldn’t be me.
I was thoroughly enjoying life in our bubble, and I had no intention of popping it any time soon.
The tour was my only obligation and that didn’t start for a couple more weeks.
Of course, my mother wasn’t thrilled with my decisions.
She had tried to call me nearly a dozen times after I’d hung up the other day, which was why I’d returned my phone to airplane mode for some peace and quiet.
Danny seemed to be in no hurry for me to leave, either. I was getting comfortable here. We were getting comfortable.
He nipped my neck before releasing me. I got up and picked up my clothes that were still strewn around the room from the night before. My whole body felt deliciously satisfied, a sensation I was getting quite used to. I blushed just thinking about Danny on top of me last night.
As soon as I stepped into the main room, I was hit with the frigid air.
It was freezing in here. The giant windows sometimes made it hard to heat the space, and there was a cold front moving in.
I tugged on thick socks, hopping on each foot as I stumbled over to the fireplace.
I threw a few logs into it along with a fire starter and lit a match.
Pulling Danny’s fleece sweatshirt tighter around me, I started on making breakfast for everyone.
I put some music on, not so loud that it would jar everyone awake, but enough to keep me company. I started the coffee before tossing some onions in a sizzling pan of butter and throwing the eggs in, letting them cook before folding.
“Ugh, can you just stay here forever?” Jaylon’s voice carried through as he opened the door from downstairs and strode into the kitchen. “It smells incredible in here.”
“I wish,” I said before turning off the burner with the eggs and grabbing four slices of bread to put in the toaster.
Danny swooped into the room then, making a beeline straight for me and catching me around the waist. He planted a kiss on my head, and I couldn’t keep the stupid smile off my face.
I felt like his girlfriend. We hadn’t discussed much, but the happiness radiating off both of us was undeniable, and the fact that we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other counted for something.
“Is today the day you’re finally coming out with us, Trace?” Jaylon asked.
I took one look outside at the wind whipping through the trees and shook my head. A fresh blanket of snow had appeared yesterday.
“Uh, yeah. I think I’m going to pass today.”
Danny snorted. “Too cold?”
“Just a little.”
He smiled. “I’ll take you out there soon.”
“When it warms up,” I added.
He chuckled. “You might be waiting a while for that.”
I had already gotten used to my routine of curling up by myself in front of the fire with my guitar.
Inspiration hadn’t struck like this in ages.
I actually wanted to write—craved it, even—as long as it was acoustic stuff that made me feel something.
My label was going to absolutely hate it, but I wasn’t thinking about them right now.
For a change, I was only thinking about what I wanted.
Barrett’s footsteps echoed loudly up the stairs before he appeared and crashed on the couch face-first. I’d learned that he was the worst morning person of the bunch.
“We should get out there soon. There’s supposed to be a storm later today,” he said, voice muffled as he spoke into the couch cushion, making no move to get ready himself.
Danny poured a cup of coffee and nodded. “We can get footage on the old Devil May Care run and then save the steeper stuff until the coverage increases.”
“Can you run a coffee IV drip into my arm first?” Barrett asked.
I poured a mug and brought it to him.
“Angel,” he muttered, sitting up and taking the cup from my hands.
“You shouldn’t baby him,” Danny said, but there was a twinkle in his eye, like he was happy with how I’d settled into his life.
“Eggs are ready, too. Help yourself.” I’d already gotten plates down and stacked them by the stove.
Danny wrapped an arm around my waist when I walked back into the kitchen. “You don’t have to do all this for us. We’re pretty self-sustaining.”
I shrugged. “I like doing it. I’ve always liked cooking, and it’s fun doing it for a full house.”
Back home, it was usually takeout for me most nights, given all of the late nights at the studio, the photo shoots, and press junkets. And it’d be takeout again once the tour started. I never had time to myself anymore. I cherished these mornings as a result.
Danny piled his plate with food before taking a second plate.
He put a smaller scoop of eggs and a piece of toast on it and handed it to me.
I took it, trying my best not to beam at him.
I shouldn’t be so grateful for these little gestures: serving me before he took his own plate, opening doors for me, always making sure I was comfortable.
I was surrounded by people all the time, but they didn’t treat me with the care that Danny did.
After a quick breakfast and a second pot of coffee, the guys were packing up by the door. Danny kissed me goodbye.
They were gone for hours.
I read a book and stared out at the slowly falling snow, which got me inspired to write.
I took out my guitar—the only item I’d brought with me except for my suitcase of clothes—and I started working on a chord progression I’d been toying with.
Something that sounded more folk than country. Slow and heartfelt.
I put pen to paper, letting myself fall into the fantasy that I was going to stand up for myself.
That I wouldn’t re-sign with my current label.
That I’d go for a smaller, independent one instead.
I didn’t need the arena tours, or the aggressive growth of fame.
I wanted something simpler. Being here at the cabin the past week made me feel brave enough to go for it—to make a life I was excited about, rather than blindly follow a dream that everyone surrounding me had crafted.
I lay on my stomach on the plush rug by the fire, jotting lines down in a journal and working through a bridge. Every once in a while, I stoked the logs.
Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, completely content.