Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
ISAIAH
Ever heard the phrase God’s country? That’s the spectacular view from my vantage point.
I turned on the bathroom light just as it caught my attention and flicked it right back off. In stunned silence, I navigate toward the window without tripping by using the soft light cast from Cassidy’s bedroom.
My eyes follow the path she took me on during her tour of the estate. It’s all there. The garden. The pond. The grape trellis next to the field we walked across. The tips of the trees towering over her parent’s house. The roofline of the banquet hall and multi-story winery barn. If I squint, there’s a hint of a warehouse in the distance. That must be what it is. I can recall Cassidy mentioning a building on the property with fermenter and bottling capabilities.
I hear the rustle of the bedsheets and Cassidy hurrying my way. She flips another light on over a vanity.
“You know they can see you from outside,” she says.
“They can?” I cup my hands over my junk and move away from the radius window overlooking the vineyard.
“No.” Cassidy doubles over, holding onto her boobs and having a laugh at my expense. “That’s one-way glass. There’s a film on it so that there’s no need for drapes or blinds.”
I rush her and grab her by the middle. She squeals with delight as her back hits my front. I swing her legs in the air.
Between the PR company and their shittastic ideas to promote the singles before the upcoming tour, the aftermath of my wife’s death and my lackluster songwriting abilities from the stress of it, my life’s been too somber. An ominous gray cloud has hung over every day. I’m tired of being overwhelmed by how serious my problems are when I’m awake. While I understand the headaches won’t disappear anytime soon, being with Cassidy is uncomplicated. She helps me put aside the bad and focus on the good.
“I’m gonna get you for that one.” I set her feet onto the tile floor and move her hair, rubbing my nose along her neck.
Cassidy leans into me. I wrap my arms tighter around her, mentally putting a stop to her escape. Though I understand the eventuality, I want nothing more than to hold her as long as humanly possible.
What would it be like to stay here with her? Not forever. I can’t do that. I have responsibilities. But would a few more days hurt anyone? Would it take the burden off of my shoulders that’s weighed me down since Kylie passed?
Monty’s advice trickles into my ear as I let go of Cassidy. Am I drowning in Kylie’s baggage and, if I am, am I using Cassidy as my lifeline?
One thing is for certain, fucking up whatever this is isn’t an option.
Cassidy is a genuine person. I don’t want whatever is happening right now to come between us later or for it to hurt her. After taking her to bed, I can’t wrap my brain around coming back to Kingsbrier and knowing I blew it when our relationship reverts to nothing more than curt, cordial exchanges.
When she’s in my arms, the concern is secondary. Except, I’d like the opportunity to continue writing songs with her uncle. Whether I make Cassidy the priority or music, I can’t leave Kingsbrier ashamed to show my face here again. And my gut says that even an easy-going guy like Cris would take offense to a celebrity taking advantage of his niece.
“Tell me why my room doesn’t have a view like this,” I say, twisting the hot and cold water to fill a white soaking tub that’s the focal point of the ensuite bathroom.
Forget the shower. This tub has a picture perfect view of everything as far as the eye can see. The whole bathroom belongs in… Well, maybe it belongs at a luxury bed-and-breakfast and I’ve forgotten what it’s like to get out more.
“This was my grandparents room, the master bedroom. The plan is to someday use it for more than something that benefits me. I’m soaking it up for as long as I can. If I knew having a big bathtub was important, I would have suggested Gatlin put you up in a room overlooking the front garden.”
“I have a whirlpool tub like this in my house.” I swish the water around, mixing the hot and cold.
The room grows quiet other than the sound of water spilling into the porcelain basin. I glance up, worrying that I said something conceited without realizing it.
She has this tub. I have mine. Doesn’t that even the playing field?
Still very much in the nude, Cassidy’s arms bind her chest. Her chin rests on her finger, and she’s lazily crossed her legs.
“Did I say something wrong?”
She’s pensive, but not angry.
“That’s the first detail you’ve told me about where you live.”
“I have to have told you more than that.”
“No,” she clearly states.
“Are there things you want to know?” I search through the things that I can tell her about my house. It leaves me with the uncanny desire to bring her with me to Tennessee—Something that I can’t possibly do no matter how much I want to.
“Yes, no. I don’t know. I’m not sure it makes a difference,” she admits what we both know is true.
Maybe it doesn’t make a difference. But what can it hurt to describe where I live? A couch is a couch. She’d be interested to hear about the eight-burner stove in my kitchen and how I can’t boil water on it because you have to turn the igniter, and I’m a push-button kind of slacker when it comes to midnight snacking.
“Get in here with me and I’ll tell you more.” I relax into the water.
“You’re using me for my epic view,” she taunts, accepting the steadying hand and settling between my legs.
“I need you in here because you add to the scenery. You have the most beautiful valleys...” I caress her stomach. Cassidy sucks it in as gooseflesh appears on her skin and her nipples bud. I cup her bare breasts. “Don’t get me started on the mountains.”
I can’t see Cassidy’s face, but I can hear her smile. “If there aren’t any topographical features in Nashville, why do tourists flock there?”
“There are. Just none as tempting as yours.”
I pull a washcloth off of a towel rack. Flicking the lid open on her body wash, I pour a small amount on while inhaling. All of my senses light up.
“Fuck!” It has to be that I’m punchy from a long day, but I’m as excited as I was about the picture window. “This is it, isn’t it? It isn’t anything you baked. Your berry candy perfume comes from a bottle.”
I’ve never smelled anything so edible. No wonder I can’t stop licking Cassidy.
“Paisley brings us samples from a shop when she and Jake visit from North Carolina. All the products from Mind your Own Beeswax make you feel pampered. They combined something sweet with an elderberry scent for this one. It’s my favorite. I ordered the entire line from the online store. Shampoo, lotion, you name it. It is yummy.” There’s a scant smugness to Cassidy as she shimmies her bottom, dipping her chest further under the now deep water and tenting her knees higher.
I twist the bottle to inspect the label. I need some for myself. Not to open and use, but to get me high when I’m low.
While I lather the body wash over Cassidy’s arms, I tell her how the autumn leaves outside of my living room slider look changing colors. If I hadn’t been too depressed to ignore them this fall, they would’ve been striking. There’s a sports sedan in my garage I used to drive. A Tomahawk that, in a brief moment of despair, I considered wrapping around a tree Kylie-style. Monty bolsters my spirits at two am, laying waste to zombies in the game room. If the man has as quick a draw in real life as he has for the VR undead, I’ll never have a problem.
The tracks on the soundtrack of my life I cut out are how empty my bed is, and how full of ghosts the other bedrooms seem. Those details seem less important because, almost overnight, I’ve shrugged out of the heavy cloak I’ve worn.
I want Cassidy to know this me, not the miserable man who has mourned the trappings of a glamorous life. None of what I thought was real had any authenticity, and I agonize over the reality life smacked me with.
“I really love it here,” I whisper, looking out over the property and pressing my lips to her scalp. I must’ve needed a vacation.
“In my tub?”
“At your ranch.”
“Like anything else, the shine wears off after a while.” Cassidy sighs sleepily.
“Have you lived here all your life?”
“Every day. Watching people come and go.” She waves. Water droplets falling from her fingertips make circular ripples in the still water. I think she’s talking about the guests until she says, “I was too young to notice when my sister and older cousins went to college. One by one, the older kids disappeared. Before I knew it, only Gatlin and I were around. But then he got exiled to the tropics for his antics.”
“What did you do?”
“Me? I ate my feelings.”
“I don’t believe you.” I pinch her bicep.
Cassidy’s got some meat on her bones, but she’s not flabby. A baker would have to roll out a lot of dough to get her upper body strength.
She twists in my arms, resting her head on my chest.
“I wasn’t the best student, but cooking was something I was good at since I was knee high. I found the former housekeeper’s recipe box on a shelf in the summer kitchen a long time ago.
‘My gran spoke of Benita so fondly I wanted to try every last one of them. When I was a teenager, I waited tables in the banquet hall. I adored the shiny stainless steel and the scents coming out of the commercial kitchen. Everything in there was big and industrial, and the crew operated like an assembly line. But when the doors swung open, and I approached a customer’s table, there was an intimacy to each plate I served. It was special. Just for that person.
“Once Rhi left for art school, I began working my way up from Vegetable Chef to Station Chef to Sous Chef. I managed all the specific dietary orders for special functions like nobody’s business. The bustle of the kitchen was my happy place.
“I should’ve taken over eventually. It’s just sort of what we do here. The next generation replaces the former, like the way my father and uncle assumed the helm at Cavanaugh Construction. But the B&B opening had brought a surge of business to the banquet hall. Uncle Cris is the majority shareholder in the winery. Our parents make up the estate trust. They voted to hire someone older with more experience. Supposedly, it was a temporary fix until I was more qualified. The new head chef stripped my recipes off the menu and sucked the joy out of my life.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? You didn’t get me booted out of my family legacy.”
“No. But I’ve thought things were going one way and, when they didn’t, I had to regroup.”
I’d like to express my change in opinion about her uncle Cris, but Cassidy mentioned it was a unanimous decision to hire someone else as head chef.
“True… Anyway, the breakfast cook at the inn stuck around because of her affinity for my grandfather. When Myrna retired, Gracyn threw me a bone by offering me the empty position. That was the summer Bellamy and Gatlin got together. Moving into my grandparents’ house allowed me to move out of my parents’. Which is all a big ‘ol mouthful of me saying I never considered pulling up roots.”
I’m about to tell Cassidy I’m glad she stuck around, so that wee could meet, when I realize the Cavanaughs aren’t a family with limited resources.
“Why didn’t you go to school to be a chef?” I ask instead.
“I didn’t want to. I still don’t. I have the skills and I cook because I love cooking. I enjoy feeding people. I don’t need formal training or anyone to teach me the secret ingredient. It’s love. Like Benita, the housekeeper told Gran, you’re a success by loving what you do, not because someone else told you that you are.”
I get the impression Cassidy might love what she does, but not always where she does it.
“What about you? Did you go to college?” she inquires.
“No. I sing. I mean, I’ve had voice coaches, but I didn’t need a degree for a skill I’d already mastered by the time I was twenty.”
“See, you get it. There’s room for improvement, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t successful.”
“Thanks for trusting me with all of that.” I get the impression this is an issue Cassidy struggles with.
“Who are you telling?”
Who indeed? Because I want to tell more people than my bodyguard about her and I can’t.
We stay in the tub until the water cools and our fingers prune. Then we return to Cassidy’s bed to make love again.