Page 49 of High Note

“I’m glad.” Kirsten just let her touch and love on her and all.

Like it really was all about them and here and now.

“How long doesit take to put all that makeup and hair and stuff on when you’re performing?” Kirsten massaged the shampoo into Skyla’s scalp, smiling as Skyla melted under the shower. They’d fill up the tub after, or maybe they’d just go to bed. Who knew?

“Oh God. That depends on the performance. Just for a stage show? Maybe half an hour. But for an awards show or a Christmas TV special? It can be an hour or two. They want you to look just soo for TV.”

“Man, I would think the big screen at the shows would be harsher.”

“Nah. That guy works for me. And in a concert, people expect me to work.”

She dug into the scalp massage. “What’s your favorite thing to do, performance-wise?”

“Rodeo concerts, believe it or not. The big ones like Houston and Austin. It’s only an hour, so I never run out of steam, and the folks are always loud and happy.”

“I’ve been to Rodeo Houston, believe it or not.”

“You? My tattooed, pierced woman?”

“Started out with hair to my waist.” Embarrassing, but true.

“No shit? Who did you go see? Was it the rock and roll show, or a country one?” Skyla hummed, the water running down over them and allowing Kirsten to rinse out that long hair.

“Shania Twain once and George Strait once.”

“Ah, King George.” Skyla chuckled. “I sang with him once in Cheyenne. He’s a hoot.” Skyla turned to wash her, sudsing her up good.

“Neat. I think every Texan has to see him once.”

“I can see that. Like Willie Nelson.”

“Oh, man. Talk about someone who can pick.”

Skyla laughed, poking her. “He also writes songs occasionally.”

“Ow! Watch that, woman. I have no padding.”

“You have some.” Skyla pinched one of her nipples.

“Cheeky!” She laughed at Skyla, wiggling in the spray. “So mean to me.”

“Not even a little.” Skyla was beautiful bare—and it made Kirsten’s mouth dry.

They rinsed off, and she turned off the water, letting Skyla wrap her in a big fluffy towel. “You mind if we just go flop, honey? I love soaking with you, but I’m ready to snuggle without Reba for a bit.”

Reba had gone out for her last bathroom break and was in her soft-sided crate for the night. Just to be safe. The cats were used to having the run of the house, and Kirsten hadn’t wanted that to change too much.

“Absolutely. I want to just hold you. Snuggle.” Pretend for a second that they were a normal, regular couple.

“Maybe put on some music that neither one of us made…”

She hooted. “We can. Maybe some classic R&B? Marvin Gaye type stuff?”

“Sexay. And yes, I love that stuff.” Skyla wrapped a towel around her hair, then led her to the loft.

Kirsten had changed the sheets, and the bed was piled high with comforters and pillows in all different colors. It went well with the deep red paint on the walls, the unwired chandeliers sparkling in the lamplight. She thought it set a good scene, and Skyla seemed to appreciate it, too, making a happy noise as they dropped towels and snuggled into bed.

“So, tell me about your bus.” Kirsten was desperately curious to know the weird little details about Skyla’s life. Hers was so basic. So incredibly normal.

---