Page 9 of Dirty Mind
She rested her small hand on my forearm, her eyes wide with understanding and compassion. “Hey, if you’d rather not—”
“It’s okay.”
The song had always been a mark of my failure and sadness. It was a cry from a man who was on the verge of breaking and just needed a little understanding from the public to give him peace, and back the hell off.
She began to play before side-eyeing me, presumably to make sure I really was okay with her choice. The lyrics drifted over me, wrapped in her sweet, seductive voice, and suddenly I wasn’t thinking about the pain anymore, I was thinking about the promise on her lips. That’s what I focused on when it was my turn to sing. The taste of her lips. The memory of being lost in her arms, buried in her perfect body, my name a whispered plea as she fell deeper into the magic we were making.
By the time it finally ended, she curled her hand around my neck and whispered, “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy for you, but you have no idea how much it meant to me, having that moment with you.”
“You’re welcome.” My voice was husky when I fastened my hand around her wrist. “But I feel like I should be thanking you. That song’s always been a bitch for me to perform live, but you just gave me a new memory that’s gonna make it a hell of a lot easier movin’ forward.”
She smiled. “Then I love that I chose that song.”
“Me too.” She was so close. I wanted to haul her into my lap, wrap her legs around my waist, and fist my hands in her hair while my mouth claimed hers.
But before I could, she was standing, wandering through the open space shared between the foyer, living room, and kitchen.
There was a separate dining room, office, and powder room down the hall and five bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs. A soundproof music studio, movie room, games room, and fitness center downstairs. Way too much house for one person, that’s probably what she was thinking, but I’d built it when I’d been married to my second wife, and she had a motto: bigger was always better.
“Nice place.” Her eyes landed on mine and we shared a smile. “Seriously. It is.”
“But too much, huh?” I grinned to let know I shared her opinion. “It’s okay, you can say it.”
“Maybe not for a big family.” She wrinkled her nose as she stuck her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. “But for a guy on his own? Probably.” Before I could defend myself, she said, “But hey, I’m not judging. If I had your money, I’d probably be looking for ways to spend it too.”
She was teasing, and I could honestly say it was the first time a woman wasn’t taking me or my money seriously. I didn’t know how I felt about that. I didn’t want to be anyone’s personal ATM, but Charli treated me no differently than the guy who filled her order at the local fast food joint. Maybe money really didn’t mean jack to her. Huh.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” She propped her elbow on the piano before resting her palm in her hand as she stared at me. “And don’t say nothing. I know better.”
We were supposed to be talking about that photo, damage control, and safety issues, but I asked, “You’re really not impressed by all this, are you?”
She pushed off the piano and spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. “Well, it is beautiful, I’ll give you that. And not at all pretentious. It feels homey. It’s big, but not in a McMansion kind of way.”
I smiled at her assessment. I felt that same way, which was the reason I’d hung on to the house and paid my ex in cash instead of giving her the house. “I love the outdoors,” I told her. “Grew up hunting, camping, and fishing, with the old man. Those were some of my favorite memories as a kid. Being in the city makes me feel… restless. So when we designed this house I wanted lots of windows and natural elements, like stone and wood. Plenty of room to roam outside.”
“I know what you mean.”
Her dimples popped when she smiled, and I was tempted to haul my phone out and snap a pic of her. That second, when the dimples transformed her from sexy to adorable, deserved to be some lucky guy’s screensaver and I wanted it to be mine.
“I loved my grandparents’ farm growing up. I could hardly wait ‘til Sunday, when we’d all head over there.” She laughed. “I used to tell everyone I was gonna marry a farmer when I grew up, ‘cause I wanted to live like that. A sweet, simple life.” She shrugged. “Who knows, right? I still might be a farmer’s wife someday.”
I knew I was starting to lose my mind when I thought about asking her if she’d ever thought about being a country singer’s wife. “You don’t have to live on a farm.” I gestured outside, though it was getting dark, and it was tough to see beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that spread across the back of the house. “I lived in the country growing up. At the end of an old dirt road.” I smiled at the memory. “My mama was all about livin’ off the land, so we had chickens, a couple of goats, sheep because she loved to make her own yarn.” I chuckled. “She even tried her hand at bee keepin’.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ve got four times the acreage we had when I was growing up. Could probably have my own little hobby farm right here, if I wanted to.”
She wandered to the kitchen window and peeked outside. “So, why don’t you?”
“I’m not around enough to tend to animals. Always told myself if I had kids, or maybe a wife who was interested in that kind of thing…”
She turned to face me, a smile teasing her lips. “Your previous wives weren’t big on livestock, I take it?” She laughed because even though she didn’t know them personally, I was sure she knew enough to know they would have struggled to keep a parakeet alive.
“Uh no.”
“So, why’d you marry women who were so different from you?”
It was an innocent question, but it narrowed all my mistakes with women down to one. I’d gotten involved with women who were my opposites, when I should have been looking for commonalities. “Honestly? I don’t know.” I looked at her, realizing I did know, but I’d never shared it with anyone. “I’m not proud to admit this, but the business has a way of drawing you in, changing you, at least in the beginning. It was awhile before I realized I’d lost sight of who I was.”
“I can understand that,” she said. “Must have been a whirlwind.”
I walked to the fridge and grabbed two longnecks, popping the top on one before handing it to her. I hadn’t dated a girl who drank beer from a bottle since high school, but I smiled when Charli brought it to her lips without hesitation.
