Page 14 of Never In My Wildest Dreams

He burst out laughing. “The Chargers are a hockey team, and I don’t get pedicures. Now, it’s your turn. What’s your alter ego doing?”

She’d had three months to dream about her next move. Without financial restraints, she could do anything she wanted. Which made it that much sadder there was nothing she’d rather do than write songs. “I think she’s living on a farm.”

“A farm? You mean with pigs and chickens and shit? Do you have any idea how hard that life is?”

“Fine.” He was probably right. “It’s a flower farm. Do you know the band Blue Fire?”

“Of course. I’ve seen them in concert.”

“Did you know they have a studio on a flower farm?” She’d recorded her fifth album there. The band spent most of their time in Montana, where they were raising their kids, so they rented out their Long Island property to recording artists. It was a beautiful retreat.

“So, you run aflower farm? Do you have a dozen children? Make your own bread?”

Warmth spread through her at the canvas he’d just painted for her. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“And what do you do in this life? Must be the total opposite.”

Well, he was certainly sharp. She’d give him that. “You know, since we’re only going to know each other for a few hours, do you think we could gloss right over the details of each other’s real lives?” She hoped he didn’t try to press for more information.

“You got it.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” How did she explain it?

“We’re good, Hellcat.”

Relief swept through her. She didn’t have to worry about him selling a story about his crazy encounter with Lorelei Calloway.

She nudged him with an elbow. “And I’m only twenty-six.”

“Okay.” He made it sound like he was humoring her.

“Oh, you’re just awful. Am I that unattractive?”

“You realize I can’t see a damn thing, right? I have no idea what you look like.”

Good point. “So, then it’s just my voice that makes me sound like an old lady?”

“I’m six seconds away from a coma. I can’t hear anything but my body screaming for sleep.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll stop talking. But you know what? You’ve just given me something to add to my list.”

“List?” he asked.

“You know, for the end of the year.” She’d been thinking about hers for a while now. “What’re you leaving behind, and what’re you taking into next year?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know how people come up with a power word for the year?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s similar except you think about what you do that’s not working and commit to leaving it behind, and you think about something thatisworking and decide to focus on it going forward.”

“Give me an example.”

Maybe she’d spent too much time alone, but she loved his deep, rough voice. Actually, it wasn’t rough at all. It was sexy. It was the kind of voice that told a woman to meet him in the bathroom and drop her panties. Or that said, “Yeah, just like that,” when a woman went down on him.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” he asked, making her realize she hadn’t answered.

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