Chapter 13 #3
Riley’s dress is yellow, matching the sunflowers. I’m pretty sure it’s the same one she was wearing the first time I saw her, although why I can remember that detail, I don’t know. Everything is all earth colors, yellows and greens and browns, with the bright pop of red from her cowboy boots.
And, of course, her hair. The sun is reflecting off it in a way that makes it glow, and I hope the photos can truly capture how perfect she looks right now.
When I hand her back her phone, she says, “Hold on,” tugging at my wrist to prevent me from stepping away.
And before I can question what she wants, she’s pulling me in even closer to her and turning to stand directly beside me.
Then she holds her phone up in the air and tells me to smile as she snaps a few selfies of us.
My heart soars at the confirmation that she does want to remember being here with me.
I’m tempted to ask her to send me the pictures, but I don’t.
I have a feeling that I won’t be forgetting any details about this after she leaves.
She’s already left a hell of an impression on me, and I’m not sure I’ll want a physical reminder of her too. It might be too depressing.
Eventually, we make our way back to the store, where I buy a couple tiny jars of jam from Mrs. Shaw before we leave.
In the car, Riley tells me about all the other stuff the farm does. They host Mayweather’s fall festival every year, with a pumpkin patch, corn maze, and haunted hayride.
“One year, when I was a kid,” she says, “I got separated from my parents in the maze, and I was so lost, I started crying. Connor and his friends ran into me, and Connor left them to help me find the way out. That might be where my crush on him started, though it didn’t hit full blown obsessive status until high school. ”
“You never dated him, though?”
She shakes her head. “No, he’s a few years older than me.
Which wouldn’t matter now, but when we were teens, that felt like a huge gap.
I wrote so many songs about him, it’s embarrassing.
But those songs helped me land my first record deal, so I guess it worked out.
Honestly, if someone flat out gave me the choice back then, either get the guy or make my dreams come true, I would’ve chosen my dreams anyway. ”
“And now?” I ask, wondering if now, after having huge success in music and not much success in relationships, her priority is still music. If it always will be.
She’s quiet a little too long, then she says, “I already told you that even after all my failed relationships, I still believe in love.”
That didn’t answer my question.
“If you were forced to pick between your career and love?” I try.
She frowns. “I’m not sure how much of a career I’ll have left for me by the time I go back to Nashville. So it might be pointless asking me to choose.”
I’m not sure why she seems to be avoiding the question, and I’m also not sure why I care so much to hear her answer it. It’s a random hypothetical. And coming from me, someone who thinks love is for suckers, I don’t even know what kind of answer I have the right to expect.
I can’t stop myself from pressing her, though. Pulling into the parking area at the inn, I shut off the engine and turn to face her. “Riley. If it came down to making a choice, if you could only have one...?
The look on her face suggests that it might be painful for her to contemplate it, only getting to have one or the other. And again, I wonder what the heck I’m doing. I’m not trying to hurt her.
Finally, she says in almost a whisper, “I really don’t know.”
Well, all right.
There’s no logical reason why it should bother me to hear that, and yet, it feels unsettling.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” I tell her, putting my hand on her leg. “You’re right. It was a pointless question.”
She glances down at where I’m touching her, then shrugs as she looks back up at me.
“I’d like to think I’ll be able to have both.
But who know if that’s true. So I guess I’d rather not think about it until I have a reason to.
Until I find someone who loves me the right way, who wants to stick around no matter what the public’s opinion of me is at any given time.
Until I fall in love with someone who’s actually right for me. ..”
Something unseen hangs in the air between us as her words trail off.
She slowly reaches down and laces her fingers with mine where they rest above her knee. I flip my hand so I can give hers a squeeze. I want to assure her that she will find that love. But I know it can’t be me, and at the same time, I don’t want to think about it being someone else.
I don’t want to picture some future, unknown person out there loving her the way she deserves to be loved, while I’m still here, living my ordinary life without her around. And I don’t know what to do with this startling realization.
“So anyway,” she says, dropping my hand but offering me a smile instead. “I had fun today. Thank you for doing this with me.”
“I had fun too,” I tell her. Because I did.
She doesn’t say anything else, but she makes no move to get out of the car. I almost offer to walk her inside, because it seems like the polite thing to do. But we don’t need anyone seeing us and getting nosy. And it’s not like this was a date.
After a few seconds, she unclips her seatbelt. Then she leans over the console and into my space. Her eyes are hesitant, but as I start to lean in closer, she bridges the gap, her hand coming up to grab my shoulder as she kisses me. I can almost taste the summer sunshine on her lips.
When she ends the kiss and settles back in her seat, she smooths out the bottom of her dress. “Sorry,” she says, biting at her lip before releasing it a second later. “I don’t know if that was okay.”
“It was more than okay. I can’t imagine I’d ever object to being kissed by you, Strawberry. You have my permission to do that whenever you want.”
She lets out a pleased little laugh. “I think I’ll be taking you up on that.”
I give her a grin. “Looking forward to it.”
And then she surprises me by leaning in and kissing me again.
Before I can think better of it, I’m grabbing for her hips and urging her over the console and onto my lap.
I slide my hand up her back and then into her hair, burying my fingers in the long, wavy strands.
Her thighs are spread on either side of mine, and I’m sure if I looked, I’d get a peek at her underwear, her short dress useless at protecting her modesty in this position. But she certainly doesn’t seem to care.
She has one hand pressed flat to my collarbone and the other curled around my waist as she continues to kiss me like oxygen means nothing to her. She explores my mouth with her tongue, and I explore the soft skin of her inner thighs, my fingers light and teasing.
The sweetest little sounds start spilling from her, and I want to take her upstairs to her guest room, get her undressed, and see how many more sounds I can pull from her throat. I want to see if I can make her scream with pleasure.
But we are, in fact, still in my car parked in the inn’s lot where anyone could see us.
And while it’s flattering that she seems to be forgetting this, I don’t want us to do anything that might jeopardize her career.
The media and her fans already got themselves in a tizzy over catching her kissing a woman once.
If she’s caught again, I doubt even the best publicist in the business will be able to convince everyone that she’s as straight as people apparently want her to be.
I’m not sure if she’s going to take that route, claiming she’s still straight. And, truthfully, I don’t think she’ll be happy if she does. But it should be her decision.
So I force myself to separate my lips from hers and try to catch my breath. Her lips are shiny with spit, tempting me to pull her back down for more, but I don’t.
Everything since last night has been a whirlwind, and she probably needs more time to process it. And I’ve left Freddie alone for a day and a half now. He has his automatic feeder and water fountain, so I know he’s fine, but I’m sure he’s not happy with me.
“I should get home,” I say reluctantly, cupping her face and running my thumb along her cheekbone. “Check on my cat.”
She presses her cheek into my hand for a second before nodding and crawling off my lap. She tugs at the hem of her dress again, then opens the passenger door and steps out of the car. But instead of closing it, she leans her face back inside. “I’ll see you later?” she asks.
I smile. “You know where to find me.”