Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The barn had emptied by late afternoon, with only the hum of the amps and the gulls outside filling the space. Jami stayed behind, looping a riff he couldn’t let go of, half-finished, half-magic. The kind of melody that felt like a confession.
Carlene’s footsteps sounded behind him. “Still chasing it?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “It’s chasing me back.”
She smiled faintly and crossed the room, setting her laptop on the piano bench. “That’s usually how the good ones start.”
He played the line again, softer this time. “You’d know?”
“I’ve watched enough of you guys to recognize lightning.” She hesitated. “The clip’s going viral. Twenty thousand shares in two hours. You’re trending.”
He looked up. “Is that good or bad?”
“Too soon to tell,” she said, scrolling. “Most of it’s positive. Some... not so much.”
He frowned. “Not so much how?”
She turned the screen toward him. A headline blinked across the top of a gossip site:
Hart’s New Muse? Meet the Woman Behind the Comeback.
Below it, a grainy zoom-lens photo from lunch, his hand on the back of Carlene’s chair as he held it out for her, sunlight catching the moment.
Jami blew out a breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“They tagged the label. Someone must’ve sold the shot,” she breathed. “They’re framing it like a romance reboot.”
He met her eyes. “And it’s not?”
Her lips parted, a quick inhale, but before she could answer, her phone vibrated again. A notification lit the screen. Her expression changed. “Wait, what’s this?”
She tapped, and a new message appeared from an unknown account:
Pretty couple. Be careful what you wish for.
The words sat stark and ugly in the glow of her screen. Attached was a still image of the barn taken from outside through the wide doors.
Jami straightened, the sound in his chest more instinct than thought. “That’s here. Right now.”
Carlene swallowed. “I just got it. How...”
He was already moving. He strode to the doors, scanning the tree line beyond the gravel drive. The sun had dipped low, throwing long shadows across the water. Nothing moved except the wind.
Carlene joined him, tension tightening her shoulders. “It could be someone passing by.”
“It's doubtful. We're up here pretty far; it would be impossible to get that shot from the road, or a boat below,” he said, voice low. “Or someone who knows where to aim a camera.”
They stood there for a long minute, the only sound the water rolling against the rocks below. When he finally turned back, she was watching him, not the rock star, not the PR problem, but the man trying to keep the world from touching her.
“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he said quietly. “At least not until we figure out who sent that.”
“I’m fine,” she started.
“You’re not,” he cut in, gentler. “None of this is.”
She looked down at her phone, then up at him. “You can’t fix every headline, Jami.”
“I’m not trying to fix the headline,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”
Her breath caught. “You can’t save everyone.”
“Maybe I only want to save you.”
The space between them vanished in a heartbeat. She tilted her chin, ready to argue, but his hand found the side of her face first, thumb brushing the line of her jaw. The air shifted; coffee, salt, her perfume, something too human to ignore.
He leaned in, slow enough to stop if she wanted him to. She didn’t.
The kiss started carefully, then deepened when she reached for his shirt, holding on like the ground might give way. The world outside could wait, the cameras, the headlines, the threats. For one stolen moment, it was only them and the music still vibrating in the air.
When they finally broke apart, she stayed close, forehead against his. “This complicates everything.”
He smiled, rough and honest. “It already turned complicated.”
Outside, a gull cried over the water. Inside, the amp hummed a low, unfinished note, like a warning or a promise.
He kissed her again, slow and steady. Her heart tripped in her chest as if she'd run a marathon.
His lips were soft and warm against hers.
His tongue teased her lips, and she opened to let him in.
His tongue slid along hers, slowly. He tasted like coffee, and he smelled like pine and wood and the oil he used on his guitar.
All of it was pure Jami. The butterflies flitted in her tummy as his strong fingers slid into her hair at the nape and held her close to him.
His other hand slipped behind her back and pulled her body into his.
The solid wall of his chest sent a sizzle down her body.
She hadn't felt this alive in...years. She'd grown accustomed to his voice, his quiet strength, and the sadness behind his eyes when he stared off into the distance.
Gripping his shirt tightly in her hands, she held on as if he'd push her over the edge of the bluff. She'd take him with her, and part of her felt like she already had.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes searched hers for a long time.
No words were needed; they simply took in every line around his eyes, every color she saw reflected in his irises.
His lashes were thick and long and enviable.
His lips were slightly pink from their kissing, and she would be lying if she said she didn't love that.
Knowing she was the one who made his lips turn pink and puffy made her stomach flutter and her knees wobble slightly.