Her eyebrows lift. “He's talented.”
“Yeah, he is.” In more ways than just that. I bite down on the urge to tell her about the band. About how Rook can play damn near any instrument, but he’s the best on the drums, and how he always seems to be able to invent the right music to go with my lyrics. I want to tell her about it because it's such a huge part of my life, but I don't trust myself to talk about it. Not with her. Certainly not here.
When Lori suggested I play for her, the idea latched onto my heart, and now I can't get it out of my head. From the moment I met her, it's been harder to fight the urge to write. And there are all these little pieces of songs and melodies that make me think of her. I want to share those things with her, and a little part of me is aware of how girls have always reacted to my music. Maybe it will impress her and make up for the fact that I've brought her to a grungy cafe instead of a nice restaurant for our first date.
But I know if I do that, if I open that door, I won't be able to shut it again.
And it has to stay shut. Music isn't the way to build a life and support a family. Maybe someday down the road, when Mom and Gwen are settled again, but not now.
So I tell her about my life and my friends without telling her about the music, even as the intricate guitar-playing coming from the corner underscores our conversation. After we talk about me for a while, I turn the tables and say, “How did all your work go yesterday? Did you get it done?”
She fiddles with the straw in her drink as she answers, “Oh, I took care of a pretty big chunk yesterday. Enough that I can take it easy today.”
“So computer stuff, huh? Is that what you think you'll major in, too? You said you were undecided, right?”
“I did. But no, I don't plan on majoring in anything like that. It's just something to bring in money.”
“So then what? You can't go too much longer without picking a focus, can you? You're what … a junior? Will you even be able to graduate on time if you don't pick soon?”
She lifts her cup to her mouth, wrapping her lips around the straw for a long pull. “I might have to go a little longer, yeah. I've been thinking about maybe arts management. I don't really do much in the way of fine arts myself, but I like that world. Arts management would give me an opportunity to be around it still, but with a more business focus.”
“Yeah, Lennox mentioned something about how you fit in with all the artistic people in your group.”
She stiffens a little. “What do you mean?”
“I just noticed that everyone in your friends group is an artist of some sort, and you are the only one who doesn't fit into that mold. She said you kind of work as a sounding board for all of them. It makes sense now. Arts management sounds right up your alley.”
“I don't know. Like I said, it's just something I've been thinking about.”
“You should do it. Who knows, maybe we'd even get in some business classes together.”
“That's right.” She gestures at my office clothes. “You're the business guy.”
“I don't know about that, but I do take classes for it. We should look at your options if you go into arts management. It's not too late to adjust your schedule for next semester. I think it would be cool to have a class together.”
Rather than answering that, she asks, “So the glasses. Do you always wear those to work?”
I reach up, pushing at the frames that I'd forgotten were there. If I'd had time to go home, I would have switched into my contacts.
“Usually,” I answer. “I spend all day looking at a computer or small print on paper, and it irritates my eyes less when I wear them.”
Our food arrives then, and I’d almost forgotten how huge the chicken fried steak is here. It takes up so much of the plate that they bring the sides out in extra little bowls. The conversation slows then in favor of food, and I swear I nearly lose it when she lifts her first bite to her mouth and moans in response.
No longer is the edge between us at the table awkward and nervous. Now, it’s filled with a greedy desire that I’m just barely holding back. It’s incredibly erotic watching the fork slip past her lips, and I’ve never in my life had to fight off an erection just from watching a girl eat. The effort makes me even more quiet as dinner continues, and before I know it, we’re done and she’s declining desert, and it’s time to leave.
We say our goodbyes to Lori, who raises an eyebrow at me on our way out, and I can almost hear her whispering bowling in my ear. That’s why when we’re halfway across the parking lot, I grab hold of Kalli’s wrist and pull her to a stop.
“Wilder?” she asks. “Did you forget something?”
I can still hear the guitar music inside as it filters out through the back door that opens up to a patio that’s closed for the winter months. It’s a slower tune, soft and a little longing.
“Dance with me.”
Kalli blinks a few times. Then laughs.
“What?”
I pull her closer, the gravel shifting beneath her feet, and use a finger to lift her chin. “Dance with me, please.”
“Right here?” she asks, skeptical. But despite her tone, she leans into me, and I slide my free arm around her waist, dragging her tighter against me.
“Why not? We’ve got you, me, and music. We don’t need anything else.”
“We’re outside. It’s December.”
I drop my touch from her jaw to take her hand before leaning close and sliding my cheek against hers. With my mouth near her ear, I promise, “I’ll keep you warm.”
Chapter Nineteen
Kalli
I can feel Wilder’s breath against my lips. More than that, I can see it. The sun has set and the temperature has dropped, and air fogs between us. There’s something about actually seeing it, like our lips are touching, we are touching, despite the distance between. And as we sway from side to side, my heart gradually begins to pick up speed.
The strains of guitar music flowing out from the restaurant are nearly indecipherable over the heavy heartbeat in my ears. But Wilder must hear it. His hands are strong on my body, guiding my movements, and I’m practically clay in his palms.
We dance, eyes on eyes, lips nearly on lips, and there is lightning beneath my skin each time his body brushes against mine in a new way. His touch is firm, but gentle, never pushing or pressuring, though I can tell from the dark look in his eyes that he’s just as affected as I am. The music shifts, building to a crescendo, and he spins us. My chest pushes tight against his, and I bite back a gasp. I don’t know if it’s the cold or him or some combination of both, but the tips of my breasts are painfully tight. Just the pressure of my bra is enough to rub them raw.
I remember the night at his apartment, the way he’d taken his time learning my body. I think of the heat of his mouth on my skin, and the memory alone is enough to make me shiver and clench.
He’s back to being business, grown-up Wilder tonight in his button down and glasses. Only now that I know him, it doesn’t seem like such a stark difference. He is neither the straight-laced man nor the tattooed bad boy. Or perhaps he’s both. Regardless of what he’s wearing, Wilder is caring and loyal and strong and so sexy that I’m having trouble remembering why I shouldn’t push him into the backseat of his SUV and crawl on top of him.
It doesn’t help matters when he leans in to place a feather light kiss on my jaw. He pauses there for long enough that I wonder if the kiss might have just been an accident, but then he shifts a little lower, kissing the spot just below my ear. My fingers tighten on his shoulder, and when he plants his next kiss farther down my neck just above my scarf, it’s no longer light, but hot and wet with just an edge of teeth.
“Wilder,” I breathe, unable to stay silent any longer.
He spins me again, continuing to dance even when I feel like my legs have turned liquid below me. Then softly, slowly he gives the same treatment to the other side of my neck. And when he reaches that final, sucking kiss he continues down, nudging my scarf
aside as far as it will go. I’m trying to stay quiet, but little noises keep escaping with each breath anyway.
“I think I neglected to tell you how beautiful you look tonight. I’m sorry. It should have been the very first thing that left my mouth.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t.”
He pulls back, and I groan at the loss of his mouth. Resting his forehead against mine, he stares in my eyes and asks, “Why?”
I break our gaze, even as I tell myself not to. I don’t know why I’m shy with him, or even if that’s what it is. I’ve never had any issues with confidence, but being with Wilder is different. I never wanted the other men to see anything beneath the surface. Beauty and magic were all I gave them, and I knew the worth of both of those things.
But it’s been a long time since I offered anyone the rest of me, and that’s not a worth I know, especially when it has to be balanced with all the dangers and drawbacks of who I am.
“Kalli,” he whispers, tipping my chin up and forcing me to meet his eyes.
“I like the idea that you might like more about me than the way I look.”
He kisses me then, and even though my nose and my fingers and my limbs are cold, heat flashes through me, quick and potent. I release his hand to wrap mine around his neck and pull him closer. He’s tall enough that I have to be on my tiptoes and he has to bend, but the need to be close to him is so strong that I don’t even notice the burn in my calves. His tongue sweeps against mine, hot and just shy of frenzied.
He breaks the kiss, and I desperately try to follow, but his cheek presses against mine. Against my ear, he rasps, “I do like the way you look. I like it way too much considering we’re in public. But I also like the easy way you smile. The way you listen. I like that you’re a mystery I can’t wait to unravel. I like how good you are with my sister, and that you’re the kind of girl who doesn’t blink an eye when I bring her somewhere like this for a first date or ask her to dance in a cold parking lot. I like the sound of your voice and your dedication to chocolate and your skill in a water fight.”
I descend into laughter, and even as I’m struggling to catch my breath, a part of me notices the way he watches me. The way his eyes light up because of me. It’s my turn to kiss him then. His lips move hard and fast against mine, not quite pushing over that line that would lead to more, but it’s close. His whole body is tense with tight control, holding us both away from that edge.
And on the other side, heat beckons. Heat and relief and the memory of all the other talented things he can do with his mouth.
When I find myself rooting for that control to snap, I know it’s time to pull back. My lips are wet and swollen as I bury my face in the crook of his neck. I place a small kiss there, so he knows that my stopping wasn’t a rejection, and his chest rumbles with a groan against me. I wrap my arms around him, tunneling under his jacket for warmth, and his arms twine around my back, pinning us together.
We’re no longer dancing. Not really. There’s a slight sway to his body that I follow, but our feet don’t move, nor do we make any attempt to leave the cold and get in our vehicles.
I don’t think either of us wants the night to end. I’ve never been this greedy for someone’s time and attention, and I’m baffled at how I waited a few days for this. It won’t be that easy next time. Now that I know what it’s like to be with him, I start imagining the way his presence could alter every other moment in my life. I think of us in class like he said, and going to the grocery store, and the movies, and studying. I imagine all the mundane human tasks that I do to fill the time or keep up appearances, and they’re no longer a hassle in my head, but a new opportunity to spend time with him. A new way to see this world.
I lift my head to look him in the eye and ask, “You need some company while you babysit?”
His smile tightens the thread binding us, reeling us closer together, and I wonder if there will come a point when it’s more than not wanting to leave his side. What if there comes a time when I can’t?
“You just can’t sit still today, can you?”
Jack gives me a laughing look from over the top of his canvas when I shift for what is probably the thousandth time.
“What has you so restless?” he asks.
The fact that I’m having Wilder withdrawals after only a few days without him. That I lied and told him I had work to do this afternoon before I could go out with him and meet his friends tonight for New Year’s Eve. That I’m here with Jack at all.
The whole thing feels wrong.
But this is what I have to do to make it work, so I need to find a way to be okay with it. It’s either this or do without Wilder completely.
As if he can feel me thinking about him, my phone rings and when I shift to answer it, Wilder’s name is on the screen. Feeling queasy, I send the call to voicemail and say, “Sorry Jack.”
I put the phone on silent, and try to be the good little muse, but it’s not easy. I sit for another half hour, my eyes directed off to the wall in an attempt to ignore Jack’s gaze on me. It’s not as if I’m doing anything risqué. I’m fully clothed. I’m in a dress, but it’s not overtly sexual. But still … we’re alone. And there’s a reason why my typical artist/muse relationship has always been romantic in nature. Art is already an intimate thing, and staring at someone long enough to capture her likeness amplifies that. I concentrate on allowing the inspiration to escape my system in small, gradual waves. When I’m nearly empty and have started thinking about ways to extricate myself from Jack’s apartment, his phone rings.
He starts to ignore it, but then he glances over at me where I’m fidgeting once again and answers it with a sigh. “Yep.”
It has always bothered me that he answers his phone that way. No hello, nothing.
“I don’t have much of anything planned. I was hoping to just stay in and get some work done.” He glances at me again. “Let me ask Kalli, she’s here.”
He rests the phone against his shoulder and says, “Lennox traded shifts and is now free tonight. She wants to go out for New Years. You in?”
I give him a half-hearted smile. “I’ve got plans actually.”
I don’t miss the way he stiffens, setting down the paintbrush he’d been using.
Lennox talks for a moment on the other line, and then he wordlessly holds out the phone to me. I hop off the chair he has me seated in and cross to take it.
“Hello?”
“Who do you have plans with, and why do I not know about them?” Lennox demands. I turn my back to Jack, wishing I could leave the room, but considering I’m talking on his phone that would be incredibly rude.
“I’m going out with Wilder. Meeting some of his friends.”
She whistles and says in a sing-song tone, “Meeting the friends. That sounds promising.”
I have the urge to tell her that it’s more than promising. It’s lovely and exhilarating and beyond my wildest dreams. Wilder is everything I could possibly want, if I can just find a way to make it work.
But the careful silence of the room reminds me that Jack is listening.
“Yeah.”
“Are you excited? Nervous?”
“Both. A lot of both.”
“We should combine groups. That way you’ll have back-up.”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on. I’ll be the perfect wing woman, I swear.”
“It’s not really my decision to make, Lennox. It’s his friends.”
“Great. I’ll call him then.”
“Wait, Len—”
The phone clicks off. I squeeze my eyes closed for a few moments before turning and offering Jack back his phone.
“What’s she up to?” he asks.
I shrug and say, “I think she’s calling Wilder. Wants to combine plans.”
He starts cleaning up his supplies, so I guess we’re done for the day. I relax, glad for that.
“So, you’re seeing him?”
I lick my lips nervously and nod. One
of the main benefits to this new style of inspiration is that as friends, I can stay with everyone longer. And I can continue to add new people to my circle. But if Jack makes a big deal out of this, it might not be possible. It could ruin everything.
“Since when?”
“Christmas officially. But we met a little over a month before that.”
He frowns and then moves off to the kitchen in his studio apartment to wash his brushes. Unsure of what else to do, I start gathering my things. When I’m done, I think about just calling out a goodbye and leaving, but I know that’s not the right way to handle it. So, I take a seat back in my chair and wait.
He finishes washing his brushes, and then turns. “Thanks for sitting for me.”
“Of course. You know I love your work.”
He nods.
Oh gods. Could this be any more awkward?
“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you soon. How many more sessions do you think you’ll need before we’re finished?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Two maybe. I didn’t get as much done today with all your wiggling.” He gives me a half smile, and I relax a little at the friendly gesture. Jack is a nice guy. We’ll get past this weird patch, and it will all be fine.
“Who knows, maybe I’ll see you tonight if Lennox has her way.”
My stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought. I don’t really want to see Wilder and Jack together again. It will kill me to have this secret between us.
“Maybe.”
I grab my things and head for the door, but at the last second I pause, the twisting in my gut nearly painful.
“Listen,” I say. “If you do come tonight, can you not mention to Wilder that I was here? I haven’t told him yet because you and I are friends, and I didn’t want anything to come between that.”
“You think he’ll be jealous?”
Yes. And I don’t like the slightly eager tone to his question.
“I don’t know. But if you could just … not mention it until I find a way to ease him into the idea, that would be great.”
His eyes linger on mine for a second longer than is comfortable. “Sure, Kalli. You know I’m good for whatever you need.”