Page 30 of You Rock My World
I duck my head before she can read my thoughts on my face and flee. “If we’re going to have a picnic, might as well do it right.” I don’t mention how often I’ve sat here alone, guitar in hand, letting the city hum in the distance while I string together broken lyrics.
Josie sets the plates down and kneels across from me, smoothing her skirt under her as she sits. “Not bad,” she jokes, glancing up at me. “For roughing it.”
I smile and pour her a glass of water. Josie takes it as her hair is caught in the breeze, wisps dancing around her face. I’m struck once again by how beautiful she is.
I grab a sandwich. “Shall we test our culinary efforts?” I need to fill my mouth before I blurt out something I’m not sure she’s willing or ready to hear.
Josie accepts the challenge with a grin. “Let’s see if you’re as skilled in the kitchen as you are on stage.”
We both take a bite, chewing thoughtfully. The flavors meld together perfectly. Crisp lettuce, juicy tomato, and savory turkey complemented by a tangy aioli. But something is missing…
“Hmm, good. But my chef makes them tastier.” I frown. “I swear we used the same ingredients.”
Josie laughs. “It’s better than purse food anyway, and the view compensates.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What of the company?”
She blushes. “Can’t complain.”
I take the win home with a smile and don’t push her. Between chews, I tell her more about why I brought her here. “This is a place where I can hear myself think.” I glance sideways at her before turning back to the cityscape as if the comment were casual. It isn’t. It never is with her.
“What are you thinking about right now?”
A ripple of heat skitters over my skin at her question, because the answer is always the same. “You.” I can’t think of anything else.
Her cheeks gain more color, and she looks away. I’ve made her uncomfortable. Quickly, I add, “How’s the last year been for you?”
Josie swallows a bite, considering. “Same old, same old.”
She’s pretending a catch-up is all I meant after admitting I’m thinking about her. But then a shadow of sadness crosses her face as if something had clouded the months we weren’t in each other’s lives. I wonder what could’ve made it worse than when we met. And I can’t play it cool anymore. I have to ask. “So, still unhappily single?”
Her gaze flickers over the blanket and then back to me, guarded.
I stretch my legs out. A casual gesture on the outside as I wait for her answer. But inside, I’m caught between bracing for impact and hoping for a soft landing, like a diver suspended mid-air, unsure if the water will welcome or shatter me.
She swallows a bite before finally asking, “Why do you want to know?”
I shrug, keeping my tone unbothered. “Why not? Just curious.”
Josie sets her almost-finished sandwich down on her plate, her focus narrowing on me in that discerning way she has. It’s not an innocent question, and we both know it. “We shouldn’t discuss my personal life, Dorian.”
I recognize the line she’s drawing, the careful barrier she’s erecting between us. It frustrates me more than it should. Still, I push back. “The other day, we dissected my divorce down to the bones.”
Josie flinches faintly, something she tries to hide as she reaches for her water glass. “That was work,” she counters, her tone measured.
She’s holding the line, or trying to, but I’m not having it. I lean back on one arm, my gaze steady on her. “You asked me all those questions just for work?”
A long moment passes as she studies me with a troubled expression. “What’s happening here?”
I sidestep the question. “Want to play a game?”
Josie stares at the view, stalling. Then, keeping her focus on the skyline, she asks, “What game?”
My mouth quirks. “Let’s play Truth or Truth.”
Josie huffs, a strangled sound that might’ve been a laugh if she’d let herself mean it. “That’s not a real game.”
“We can make it real. We take turns asking questions, and the other has to answer honestly,” I propose.
