Page 25 of Always the Baker

Billie’s smile faltered for just a moment.

“Yeah, maybe someday,” she said softly, before quickly changing the subject. “So, tell me about your music. How’d you get started?”

As we moved on to the next exhibit, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Billie’s story than she was letting on. But her warm smile and genuine interest in my own past pushed those thoughts aside. For now, I was just happy to be here with her, surrounded by art and possibilities.

I couldn’t help but stare at Billie as she examined a few paintings. The way her eyes lit up, the slight wrinkle of her brow as she tried to decipher their meaning… it was captivating. She must have felt my gaze because she turned, catching me red-handed.

“What?” she asked as she blushed.

I grinned, not bothering to hide my interest. “Nothing. Just enjoying the view.”

Billie rolled her eyes, but I caught the smile she tried to hide. “Smooth talker. Come on, Romeo, let’s get out of here. I could use some fresh air.”

We left the gallery and started walking with no real destination in mind. Before I knew it, we’d ended up at a small park tucked away right before you got to the river. It was a hidden oasis that not a lot of people came to because it was so small, but it was complete with a bubbling fountain and wrought iron benches.

“This is nice,” Billie said, plopping down on a bench. “Reminds me a bit of home, actually.”

I sat beside her, close enough that our knees touched. “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

She told me about growing up in a small town, painting a picture of summer nights catching lightning bugs and winter mornings sledding down the big hill behind her house. Trail riding, horseback adventures, and moonshine that poured likea fountain. Line dancing and mud stomping that led to river plunges to get clean. I found myself hanging onto every word, imagining this simpler life so different from my own childhood.

“Your turn,” Billie said, nudging my shoulder. “What was little Brax like?”

I chuckled and ran a hand over my head. “Hmm… Where to start? I was a terror as a kid. My parents used to listen to soul and R&B all the time. Al Green, Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding… the greats. But it was when I started listening to Prince and Michael Jackson that changed everything. I saw Prince with his guitar and decided I wanted to be a rock star, so I redecorated my pops favorite guitar with glue and stickers.”

Billie burst out laughing. “No way! What did he do?”

“He was surprisingly cool about it. Said if I was going to wreck instruments, I’d better learn to play them first. That’s when I started taking lessons.”

We traded stories back and forth, laughing at each other’s childhood antics. As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the park, I realized I hadn’t felt this comfortable with someone in a long time.

As we grabbed ice cream, I couldn’t help but smile as Billie recounted another story from her hometown.

“So, there I was, covered from head to toe in mud, no duck to be found, trying to explain to Mrs. Simpson why her prized petunias were completely flattened,” she said, laughing. “I swear, I thought she was going to have a heart attack right there in her garden! She tried to beat my ass, man.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Man, you were quite the troublemaker, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Her grin was infectious. “Small town, big imagination, and a best friend that was just as wild as me… It was a dangerous combination.”

As we continued talking, I found myself more and more drawn to Billie’s authenticity. Every story she shared felt genuine, filled with little details that brought her world to life.

“Real talk,” I said, leaning back on the bench, “I really admire how open you are about your life. It’s… nice.”

Billie’s smile faltered for a moment, and I caught a flicker of something in her eyes. Was it guilt? Sadness? But it was gone so quickly, I thought I might have imagined it.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice a little quieter. “I, uh, I just believe in being honest, you know?”

I nodded, not oblivious to her internal struggle. “I feel you. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

Billie shifted in her seat, tucking a braid behind her ear. “Brax, I…” She trailed off, biting her lip. I waited, curious, but she just shook her head and forced another smile. “Never mind. Hey, tell me more about that time you snuck into your own concert. How did that even work?”

I chuckled, remembering the ridiculous scheme. “Well, it was actually pretty simple. I…”

But as I started to explain, I found myself distracted by Billie’s eyes. The way the setting sun caught them, turning them a brilliant shade of brown that almost looked black. Before I knew it, I was leaning in closer.

Billie’s breath caught, her words trailing off mid-sentence. The air between us seemed to crackle with electricity. I hesitated for a moment, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, I closed the distance.

Our lips met, and it was like striking a match. Soft at first, then building in intensity. I pulled back, needing to make sure she was still okay with this. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes slowly fluttered open.

---