Page 17 of All of You

“I do. I do feel guilty. It’s a weird thing to ask someone, and ultimately, you’re getting nothing from it.” A breath huffed out—his apparent refusal to take this seriously proved exasperating.

He leaned farther over the counter, bringing him a few inches closer so we were only about two feet apart, separated by a cold slab of marble.

“I thought you said there’d be incentives. Why don’t you tell me about those? Sell me on it—what do I get out of this? Why should I do it?”

My lashes fluttered as I pulled in a breath and resisted the heat racing through me at the way he’d said those words. I cleared my throat, crushing the physical response to what was, at least in one sense, a logical and business-focused question.

“Sure. Yes. Okay. Good.” I pulled out my planner and flipped to a page in the back where I’d made the list. “First, you’d get to tour with me if that works out with your schedule. I’m framing that as a positive because I’d pay for all your expenses, and we’re going to some major cities. You wouldn’t be obligated to stay with me all the time, so you could explore a bit. Obviously, if you hate traveling, then that’s a drawback?—”

“I don’t. Next?”

“Okay. Um, next, again schedule permitting, you’d escort me to the Oscars. I realize that also may not be something you’d want to do. But that one would be a big one for me, so it’s kind of non-negotiable unless you really can’t miss work.”

The nerves fluttered through me. I’d be singing with Jamie if our song got nominated, which it almost certainly would be. The singing would be easy—the whispers of the audience would not.

“I have no idea, but that’s something that, if you have the dates well in advance, I can request sooner than later, and that always helps.”

His voice calmed me. Was he staying so reasonable and unflustered to counteract my raging nervous energy?

The cool stone helped soothe my burning palms as my fingers spread out on the countertop. “There’s one other thing, but I’m still in talks about it, and it only applies if you like football.”

He perked up then, his eyes asking the question for him.

“I may be performing at pretty big football half-time show this year.”

He froze, then his face brightened, and he laughed. “Pretty big—no kidding?”

“No kidding. They’re trying to do a big Country roundup or something. It won’t just be me, so it’s not?—”

“That’s a really big deal.” His lips spread into a smile that showcased straight white teeth and, inevitably, dimples in his lean cheeks.

Goodness, he’s cute.

“Thanks. Yeah, it is, kind of. But I don’t know for sure if it’ll go through. If it does, you’d get to go with me, if you wanted.”

“I would want,” he assured quickly.

I nodded. “Okay, then. So… those are the things you get out of all this. Plus any events or dates or appearances we go on, I would pay for any travel and expense, including the activity or food associated with the interaction.”

“You’re forgetting something,” he said, catching my eye.

“I am?”

“Yes. By doing this, I also get to spend time with you,” he added, a completely genuine look on his face.

Giddiness and embarrassment crashed against each other in my mind.

“I—that’s true. Yeah, you get to spend time with fancy old me.” A little laugh escaped me.

“I’m inclined to do it, Whit. But your hesitation makes me hesitate. So tell me what you’re most worried about.” He leaned on his elbows now, his arms crossed on the counter.

Again, no beating around the bush. He had this knack for putting his finger on the most disconcerting details, which made me squirm. This was going to come out fast, direct, a little disorganized.

“I’m concerned you’ll feel exploited. I’m doing everything shy of paying you an hourly wage, which we could talk about, if you wanted, but that seems a little bit more toward the escort range of things. And I wouldn’t expect anything—you know, not anything like that. I just don’t want you to feel used, which is messed up because you are getting used.”

I swallowed, then grabbed my glass and took a drink of the cool liquid to help chase away the sudden overheating caused by that last thought, my light sweater and jeans now sweltering as heat crept up my chest and neck.

Ben took a moment, watching me fiddle with my planner, click my pen open and closed, take another drink.

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