Page 75 of Wingwoman
“Okay then,” I said, changing the subject. If he didn’t want to talk about himself or Maggie, I certainly wasn’t going to push the matter. “I won’t take Hope there tomorrow then.”
“You… wait… what?” Matt asked.
Grinning, I leaned back in my chair. “Yep. She said yes to being my muse. I’m planning our first official date tomorrow where we’re going to tease it to the magazines and hopefully get a little buzz. Then at the rodeo, we’ll fully announce it.”
There was a long pause before Matt finally said, “Buddy, I mean this with no disrespect… but after last night, are you sure about this? That one might be more trouble than she’s worth.”
More Trouble than She’s Worth.
I grabbed the notebook and jotted the phrase down, staring at the words on the blue lined notebook paper in front of me.
I tapped the pen against the paper. “You’re the one who set me up with her.”
“No, I’m the one who convinced you tohireher to find you a muse. I did not tell you tomakeher your muse.”
He had a point. “I get why you would say that. But there’s no denying she inspires me to write. I’ve written more in these last two weeks than I have in years.”
Matt sighed. “Well… that’s good then.”
He didn’t sound like it was good. He sounded wary. Worried for me.
And I guess I couldn’t blame him. I’d been hanging out with Hope for weeks. I saw the good in her. His only interaction had been her drunken outburst last night.
But eventhat. That drama, that fiery attitude is part of what I was drawn to. I stood up, crossing to the door to peek into the hallway, making sure Hope wasn’t within earshot.
Cash’s tags jingled as his head bolted up and he stared at me, making sure I wasn’t leaving him.
I quietly shut my door, then paced to the window that overlooked my pool. “Part of what Ilikeabout her is that she’s a bit dramatic,” I said. “I mean… Matt, look... don’t get me wrong, I don’t want her getting drunk and screaming at her family. That’s not the sort of drama I’m looking for. But a muse who’s just happy and beautiful and smiling all the time? What shitty music can that inspire?”
No, that was the whole point of Hope. She was a firecracker. I could light her fuse and wait to see what happened. Some days she might be a bottle rocket. Others? A sparkler… playful and safe, but still crackling with energy.
Those Miss America types she kept trying to set me up with were too prim and proper. It wasn’t that they didn’t have depth. I’m sure they were all smart and charming and charismatic. And for some musicians, those women might inspire music.
But not me.
“Just be careful,” Matt said. “You’re one bad PR stunt away from losing your label.”
I clicked my tongue. “They say that. But if it’s orchestrated right and paired with an album of top ten hits? I bet they’ll change their tune. And fast.”
I paused as I watched from my window to where the door to the pool swung open. Hope walked out carefully, looking around… probably for me. Even though I’d told her to use the pool, she seemed nervous. Like she was breaking some rule.
I slunk back behind the curtain, still peeking out and watching her like some sort of perv as she slipped the towel from her shoulder, dropping it onto one of the pool chairs. Then her delicate fingers went to the sarong tied at her waist. With a few flicks of her fingers, the billowy silk was tossed aside, revealing her flat stomach and tanned, slim curves.
She adjusted the turquoise two-piece bathing suit I’d put in her room as she dipped a toe in the pool.
Good god, she was perfect. Everything from her sleek brown hair, down her tanned, curvy body, to her painted toenails.
“I’m just saying,” Matt continued, oblivious to the fact I’d gone completely speechless at the sight of her half naked. “She’s a volcano. Yes, she’s beautiful, but be careful of the lava. Because when she erupts, she’ll take down anyone in her path.”
I grinned at the imagery. I couldn’t wait to see her…erupt.
Even so, I shook my head at the metaphor. “You’re wrong, Matt.” In this scenario? I was the volcano.
She was going to be collateral damage.
And I hated myself for it.
Twenty-Two
