Page 28 of Whiskey Promises
"How did you go from all of this to rockstar?"
"Accidentally," I admit with a rueful laugh. "I always enjoyed playing, but I never intended to do it professionally. I had a buddy in college who needed a guitarist for a show and roped me into it. Things spiraled from there."
"How do you find time for both?" she asks, genuine curiosity in her voice as she turns to face me, her arms crossed over her breasts, pushing them up in her t-shirt. "This isn't exactlya small vineyard. You guys have a winery, a restaurant, and a whole wine line."
"There's always time for what's important, princess," I murmur, my gaze burning a hole in her.
She blushes, glancing away from me for a moment before her gaze naturally drifts back. It's like she can't help herself. She may not want to admit it, but she feels the same thing I do. I think it pisses her off a little bit that she feels it, but she feels it.
"This is my last tour."
"Really?" She blinks at me, surprise stamped across her face. "You're giving up the rockstar life?"
"I never wanted the rockstar life. I fell into it. It's not hard to give up something you never intended to keep."
"What about your fans?"
"You mean Nadia's fans."
"No." She shakes her head. "I meanyourfans. Half the women who come to her shows are there for you and the band, not for my sister. They're obsessed with you guys."
"They don't know me, Zoya," I say softly. "They show up for the illusion, not the reality."
"Is there a difference?"
I narrow my eyes, pacing toward her. "You know damn well that there is, princess. I play guitar because I enjoy it. I'm not defined by it, as much as people like to think I am. The fame that came with it isn't my reality. This place is reality. It's in my blood. It's my heart. This is where I belong."
She swallows hard, tilting her head back to look up at me. Her gaze drifts across my face like she's trying to figure me out, but doesn’t quite know where to start. I don't like whatever she decides, though. It has her taking a step away from me, her expression almost…wistful.
"Well, good luck with that," she murmurs. "I should go."
I thrust my arm out in front of her, halting her. There's not a chance in hell that I'm letting her run off on me again. Not until she tells me what that look is about.
"Jareth…"
I ignore the warning in her voice, crowding her up against the side of the harvester. "What did I say that upset you?"
"Nothing. I'm not upset."
"You're a terrible liar, baby."
"I'm not lying." She rolls her eyes at me. "I just think your life is not like mine, that's all."
I process that for a minute, not entirely sure what she means. I don't think my life is like anyone's, frankly. But that doesn't mean she and I are all that much different. I'm not my job. I'm not the vineyard. I'm just a motherfucker trying to secure his future. With her.
"Why are you so determined not to like me, princess?"
"I'm not," she lies.
"Yeah, you are. You've convinced yourself that I'm chasing after you for the hell of it, like it's something I do regularly." I crook a finger under her chin, forcing her to see me. "It's not, Zoya. I don't fuck around."
"Good for you." She licks her lips, her gaze darting away again. "That has nothing to do with me."
"It has everything to do with you, and you know it," I growl, my chest brushing her tits as I lean down over her. "I don't want other women. Never have. But you? You're different."
"Well, too bad. I have a boyfriend," she mumbles.
"Right. And where is he again?" I make a show of looking around. "Because, gotta tell you, princess, you've spent more time away from him since you got here than you have with him."
