Page 23 of Veiled

A lot.

“So what are you going to do in the meantime?” I have to ask. He’s going to go out of his damn mind here. I know him. He can’t stay busy in a little town like this.

He shrugs. “Meditate, I guess.”

I snort. “You don’t meditate.”

“Guess I’m going to have to learn.” He looks around at the trees and the sky, which is a bright blue and very clear this morning. “What the hell have you been doing here this whole time?”

“Writing songs. You gonna start doing that too while you meditate?” I tease, the tightness in my chest lifting slowly.

“I’ll leave that to you,” he says with a slow grin, sipping his coffee. I try really damn hard not to stare at those full lips and think about what kissing him was like. I also have to force myself not to suggest we could get naked to pass the time.

It’s a terrible idea.

I know he’s right about keeping it professional. But I can’t seem to really, totally convince myself of that. I’m working on it. It’ll be fine.

“You know you could fly back to Kansas City.” His right eyebrow lifts, and I think it’s in annoyance. He’s ready to argue with me when I add, “We have a week until we need to leave for the gig. You could go back and forth. At least then you won’t be bored.”

Part of me—a part that I’m trying really hard to ignore—wants him to stay. And I don’t know why the hell that is. It was only days ago that I wanted him the hell out of here. Now’s my chance, and I’m silently pleading with him not to go.

Yeah, this is probably really not good.

“No. It sounds like a damn hassle, going back and forth. I’ll just stay. I’ll be fine.”

My lips twitch with a smile, and I hate it, but I’m relieved he’s going to stay here and not leave in between gigs.

I should be worried, but I tell myself it’ll be just fine.

Oh, the lies we tell ourselves.

Well, I managed not to jump him after the gig tonight, but I’m still on a total damn high from performing at the little bar outside of a charming town with a population of eight hundred people.

I kept my set short, at only an hour, and then we fled into the night. And I have to say I’m really damn proud of myself for not jumping Waylon because holy shit, he looks good tonight. Even in his damn suit.

The suit fits him perfectly, tailored to his tight, lithe body. His hair is done perfectly. He’s gorgeous. There’s no denying it, and there’s no denying my attraction to him either. But I kept my hands to myself the entire two-and-a-half-hour drive to the nearest hotel.

He gets us a room, and we get settled inside. This place is definitely a step up from the first place we stayed. But it’s not so grand and expensive that anyone would think to look for us here.

And yeah, the more I have thoughts like that, the more I feel like I’m on the run.

Waylon removes his suit jacket and places it on the back of the office chair by the desk in the room. I watch as he unbuttons the cuffs and rolls up his sleeves, showing off sinewy forearms I can’t look away from.

Fuck, he’s hot. This is not good.

His face says he can read my thoughts, but for whatever reason, he doesn’t call me on it. He also doesn’t indulge me either. “I’m going to go pick up some food. You stay here, maybe wash the bar off you.”

I grin. “I can go too.”

“You could, if you want to risk being seen,” he says simply because he knows I’m not going to argue with him. I nod in agreement, and he leaves with a smile on his face.

This last week, I was certain he’d leave. Go back to Kansas City and tell me he just couldn’t do it, but he stayed. And he actually seemed to be enjoying his time there. Mostly he just read, sitting out on his porch in a swing he had delivered from the same furniture store he ordered a new mattress and couch from. He seems to be making himself right at home.

That should not be a relief to me, but I think it is.

I go into the bathroom and flip on the light, seeing it’s a major improvement from the last place we stayed too. I undress and turn on the water. Tonight felt good. Really damn good.

I hop into the shower and use the hotel shampoo in my hair, thinking about the small poorly lit bar and the smell of smoke and stale beer. It would have been wretched to anyone else, but I loved every second of it.

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