Chapter 10
10
Shane
“I won’t be able to drive home if I have another glass.” She’s had one glass of wine and swings the wineglass out by the stem before bringing it back in to take the last sip.
Setting the bottle on the table, I say, “You could always stay.” No harm in trying. I’m lying to myself. There’s harm in trying with Cat. I can’t hurt her. I don’t want to, and if she stays, that will inevitably happen when I take off in the morning.
The fact that I want her to stay in my sanctuary makes me question if I’ve had one too many to drink myself. But I drink more than two beers when I’m out, so the effects shouldn’t be different at home. My bet is on her being the difference and not the alcohol consumption.
“I have such a long drive home, too,” she groans, sitting up. She’s taken ownership of that lounge chair since she arrived. She wasn’t lying earlier when she said she’d spend all her time out here if she had this to come home to.
“I can call a car to drive you home. You can return tomorrow to pick up your car.”
“You’ll be gone tomorrow. How would I get in? Climb the gate?” She tries to bury her curiosity in humor, but I’m on to her. There’s an attraction that she’s clearly denying. It’s written in how her eyes light up when they meet mine and linger on my body when she thinks I’m not looking.
“What if I gave you the code?” Testing the waters has never made me nervous until now.
She looks at me with disapproval written all over her face. “I’m worried about you, Shane.”
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“You shouldn’t be offering your code to every stalker you meet.”
I’m starting to think she’s testing the same waters I am. “I judged you too quickly.”
“Can’t be sure these days. It’s best to take it slow and get to know someone first.” She tips the glass back but receives a cruel reminder when not a drop falls out. Lowering it down, she says, “I should go.”
Between her, the beer, and the full stomach, I’m getting too comfortable in her company, and my thoughts are all over the place. “I’m not a relationship guy.” What the fuck am I saying?
She had just set her feet on the decking but doesn’t get up. Instead, with an empty plate in one hand and a wineglass in the other, she says, “I know.” She stands as if nothing was said at all and walks inside the house.
Maybe she’s doing me a favor by not making it a big deal. It was stupid to say anything, so I don’t know why I did.
I trail her inside and set my plate next to hers on the counter. Appearing to start washing them, she positions herself in front of the sink and turns on the water. I turn it off. “I can clean up after us. You’re a guest.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I reply with a grin and shake my head. “I’m sure.” Staring at each other in the smaller space of the cooking area, I’m at a loss for words with her. I want to warn her to stay away from me but turn around that message and have her stay. Am I lonely?
It’s not loneliness.
It’s Cat Farin.
She has me feeling differently about being home.
“It’s been fun to catch up,” I say, still feeling like she’ll believe the bad press if I don’t confess first.
She grips the edge of the counter, leaning back against it. “Why is this so awkward, Shane?” Tilting her head, she asks, “It’s been so easy between us—to talk, to spend time together, to deal with the marriage mess. And now . . . and now it’s not. Is it because we have to get a divorce?” She crosses the space between us, invading mine with full intention. “It’s just paperwork. I’ve said it before, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not asking for anything. In return, you’ll get your freedom back.”
“I’m not free. I never will be again. You saw the paparazzi at the clerk’s office.”
With a soft laugh, she pats me on the chest. “Free from me, silly.” She turns to walk away, but I catch her by the wrist.
“With you is the freest I’ve felt in years.” Our eyes are latched, her browns to my blues. The long hair hanging over her shoulders doesn’t hide the rise and fall of her chest from heavier breaths.
She licks her lips, captivating me to watch the sexiest of gestures. She doesn’t even have to try, and I’m mesmerized by her. “Shane—” Her gaze drops to the phone on the counter, the vibration making it buzz. Her expression falls as disillusionment settles in. I’ve seen that face enough to recognize it. Pulling her wrist away, she exhales an exhaustive breath. “I have a long drive.”
“What just happened?”
“Nothing.” She walks around the counter and grabs the bottle of water she started before the wine. “Nothing at all.”
The phone buzzes again. This time, I glance down at it to find a screen full of messages. Fuck.
“You should get it. It must be important for Teri with an I to send so many texts.”
Teri was insistent that I spelled her name with an I on the end the first time we met. It became a running joke all two times we’ve hooked up. “It’s not important.”
Her eyebrows rise as if she thought I’d say something else. She grabs her keys off the coffee table, then levels me with a look. “That makes it worse.”
She starts for the door before I catch up—with her meaning and her steps. “What’s worse?”
“She was worth your time when you were sleeping with her but not after. I feel sorry for Teri with an I.”
I stop at the entrance to the hallway and lean against the wall. “I’m not chasing you, Cat.”
“Thank God.”
“I won’t apologize for how I live my life either.”
She turns back. “No one says you need to, but you should be honest with her.”
“With her . . . or you? I told you I don’t do relationships. She knew that when we met, so I’d say that’s pretty fucking honest.”
Flipping her hair over her right shoulder as if the language is too crass, she looks down at the floor between us. I bet if she had pearls, she’d be clutching them.
As if those texts didn’t already cause enough damage, my phone buzzes on the counter where I left it.
I exhale my frustration with the damn phone adding to my issues and justifying myself to Cat like I need to. I don’t. “I can’t control the text messages I get from other women.”
She looks up with a mission in her eyes. “No one says you need to, but you should be honest with her.”
“It’s my business, babe.”
“So you can bring up my sex life whenever it suits you, but yours is off-limits? Got it, babe .”
“Whose sex life are we talking about again? I was only aware of one.”
Red seeps up her neck and strikes her cheeks. “Screw you, Shane.”
“Watch your language, sweetheart.”
She tugs the door open with enough force to damage the sheetrock, but she doesn’t release it. She stands there with her back to me, her hand holding the handle like she needs the support. “Why did you have to ruin it?” she asks, her voice much quieter.
“It’s what I do.”
Nodding slowly, she walks forward, closing the door behind her.
I stand in the wake of her disappointment, left alone in my righteous indignation. Closing my eyes, I condemn every thought I have telling me to go after her. Nothing good will come of it. I’ll disappoint her now or hurt her later. Cat doesn’t deserve either.
Fuck it.
I tug open the door, ready to chase her down the driveway like I said I wouldn’t. “Whoa!” I catch myself before tripping over her sitting on the top step. “Fuck, give a guy a heart attack, why don’t you. You almost got trampled.” She glances up as I walk down the other two steps and turn to face her. “What are you doing?”
“Beating myself up.” She looks at me. “I have no right to judge you.” Standing, she adds, “To the world, even to you before a few days ago, you were single.”
I probably shouldn’t smile, but her staking claim over me because of some error is adorable. I knowingly acknowledge that’s typically the last thing I want a girl to do to me. Again, Cat is different. Not sure why, but I’d like to find out. “So you don’t consider yourself single?”
The question has her searching our surroundings for an answer, but she won’t find it there. Just like I didn’t. “I haven’t thought about it, but I guess I am. A technicality doesn’t change anything.”
“Except in the state’s view,” I add.
“Or if we were dating other people?—”
“Good thing we’re not.”
“Right,” she replies eagerly. “It’s one less knot we don’t need to undo.”
Propping my foot one step higher, I ask, “Where do we go from here? I can have my attorney draw up the papers. You won’t need to spare the expense.”
“I can pay for an attorney?—”
“You said you don’t want anything, so it shouldn’t be complicated.”
She steps down, bringing us closer. “We should look into annulments. It might be a time-saver, and I imagine that we’d qualify based on . . .”
“Based on what?”
“We haven’t consummated the marriage.”
She’s staring at me like she won a prize, but I’m not seeing that option as a positive. I refuse to lose this staring contest, though. She blinks first and says, “I’ll do some research.”
Coming down two more steps puts her right in front of me. “When will you be back from touring?”
“Um . . .” I rummage through the schedule in my head. “Maybe Monday. Could be Tuesday.”
“Touch base when you’re back, and I’ll share the data I’ve collected.” Seeing how excited she is, I start grinning like she is.
When I touch her hip this time, she stops and turns back. Question marks dangle in her eyes, but my mind’s gone blank in the proximity of her beauty. She pokes my stomach, and whispers, “See you next week, Shane.”
“Yes.” That’s all I manage before she goes to her car and opens the door. With a quick wave of her hand, she then disappears inside, taking my breath and heartbeats with her.
Who needs those anyway?
They come in handy as a drummer. Fuck it, I can survive a few days without.