Page 83 of All of You

Her face darkened, and mine must have, too.

“I want that for both of you, too,” she said, her voice low.

Nothing but that drop in tenor and the slight shake of her fork would have betrayed any emotion. Bec kept a lock down on herself like I’d never seen when it came to the feelings surrounding her brother, and the fact that her voice and her hand shook told me just exactly how unsettled she was by the conversation with Thatcher.

“I hope you’ll talk to him one last time before you go. I hate to think of you guys parting on bad terms, and you know it’ll tear him up.”

She had to know it would, even if she didn’t fully know the extent to which it would.

She nodded, her face sullen. “I know. I’ll… figure it out.”

I reached across to where her hand rested on the table and patted it. “You will.”

I smiled at her, and she smiled back, and this time, it was a small but real one.

“Enough about me. Let’s talk about you dating the princess of Country music and not even telling me,” she said with an accusatory brow.

“I haven’t seen you. You may have noticed that I kind of freaked out about that, seeing as how I joined Thatcher on the hunt for you a few weeks ago. So it’s not like you’ve been available for updates on my love life.”

“Love life?” she asked, her eyes wide and piercing as she watched me.

I took a bite, let myself chew and swallow carefully, returning her stare.

I wasn’t sure what she saw there, but she broke into a broad smile then, all teeth and sparkling eyes. “Good to know, my friend. Good to know.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Whit

“Hello?”

“Ms. Grantham, we have a Mr. Holder here, who says he’s supposed to meet you?” The nasal tone of the head of Reception came through the hotel room phone just as I walked in.

“Yes. Please send him up immediately,” I said, breathless with the elation that hit at the news that Ben was there.

Ben’s here!

I paced back and forth, wondering just how slowly the Reception people were moving if it was taking him this long to get from the lobby to my room.

Our room.

I hadn’t changed out of the clothes I’d worn all day, a short halter dress and sleek ponytail, requisite stage and camera makeup, heels—I needed to shower, let my hair dry, and get to bed soon. I’d hoped he’d get here sooner, but no doubt the traffic had kept him away.

We’d messaged a few times a day since I’d left. I think he was giving me space and I was giving him space, too. I didn’t know why, but I just wanted him with me. He was calming, even as he set my insides to fizz.

Finally, the knock on the door came, and I practically sprinted to get to it, checking the peep hole to see him turned sideways, probably chatting with the guard stationed in the hallway. My belly flipped, and I pulled the door open.

Ben Holder stood there, a bag in each hand, jeans over gray and red Nike tennis shoes, a rumpled long-sleeved T-shirt, and his hair clean cut on the sides and a bit longer on top like he’d worn on the tour. It hadn’t been all that long since I’d seen him, but he was absolutely gorgeous. Almost to the point that I didn’t know what to do with him, except that I’d been waiting ever since we’d said goodbye Tuesday night for this moment.

“Hi.” I grabbed his arm since his hands were full and pulled him into the room.

I set his bag to one side, and he hung his garment bag to his left on a hook meant for a jacket, though that was fairly ridiculous for LA unless it was a rain jacket.

We both had the same idea.

Our arms wrapped around each other, and the relief washed over me as he pressed me to him, leaned back just a bit to lift me off the floor. Then his mouth was on mine, and the relief turned to a new sense of urgency. He bent just slightly, put his hands on the backs of my thighs, and pulled me up—like it was nothing, mind you—and held me with my legs circling his torso and my head now a few inches higher than his. His arms locked underneath me to hold me in place, and I urged him closer, my hands around his neck.

With a groan, he turned and my back gently slammed against the wall as he pushed closer, let his hands run over my cheeks, my neck, skate down my body as I did the same, relishing having him in front of me, savoring every touch and breath and taste.

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