Page 79 of Almost Perfect
My heart pattered wildly in my chest, and I kissed his neck, then his cheek, then stepped away. “Night, Wyatt. See you in the morning.”
I turned and padded in the direction of my room before he said, “Let me know what you need.”
And it was that wording that stopped me before I reached my door.Let me know what you needlike he knew I needed something. Like maybe he knew I neededhim. He hadn’t said, “Let me know if you need anything,” a possibility. He knew.
So that was the reason I turned around, walked straight back to him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him.
THIRTY-FOUR
Wyatt
Some events in life mark a shift, after which nothing is ever the same. I’d had a small handful of moments like this—some good, like the day I met Sheridan or filing the paperwork for expanding the ranch years ago, and others soul-scarring, like losing my father.
I now recognized that Calla Rice coming to live at the guesthouse was akin to an earthquake on my house of cards.
But just now? I didn’t mind that there was a mess on the theoretical floor of my mind. Because today, I woke with Calla in my bed. Outside, the world lay shrouded in wintry darkness, though I could tell the main power had come back on. No humming generator sound. Even that news couldn’t cause disappointment to break through the moment since it meant Calla would go back to her place today.
Or… would she? Of course, yes, she would. But would she stay over there?
She shifted next to me, curling into her side and closer to my chest. I ducked my chin to inhale the sweet scent of her shampoo. She smelled so good. Shefeltso good.
“Morning,” she said, not moving her face or opening her eyes.
My heart cracked open and spilled warmth into my chest. “Morning.”
I pulled her closer to me, running a hand under her shirt across the smooth skin of her back.
We had no reason to roll out of bed early or worry about anything. When was the last time I’d stayed in bed and just snoozed and relaxed?
Possibly never. It hadn’t been something that appealed to me. Normally, I felt a little anxious to start the day, to get going on what list of things awaited me. But today presented no such anxieties. For that matter, I couldn’t remember feeling more certain that Ididn’twant to leave the bed. I hadn’t felt such permeating peace.
She made a groaning, pained noise but still didn’t open her eyes. It sounded truly miserable, and I laughed and squeezed her close. “Didn’t sleep well?”
“No, I slept okay. I just want to be able to sleep in. And my brain is now fully awake.” She loosed a regretful sigh.
“Sorry, honey. Wish I could help. But I say we lay here a while longer, even if we’re both awake.” I smoothed a path from her neck down her spine to her hip. Once again, the utter beauty of her body hit me, but I didn’t let myself get dragged into those thoughts. “Tell me about your lyrics.”
She rolled onto her back and let her head drop to the side before her eyes finally opened. Meeting her gaze made my stomach drop low and my blood heat. We’d made love hours ago, we’d spent the night together, and she only needed to look at me to send my heart racing again.
It didn’t hurt that we’d woken up in the same bed and that I’d been caressing her back, but those eyes did me in.
“They’re lines I wrote.” She pulled the shirt up to bare the taut, lovely skin of her stomach. Slanted, sprawling script started at her midline and wrapped around to her back. On our date, I’d wished to discover the full tattoos. I hadn’t properly admired them last night, but I’d read the words.
Surprise jumped through me. “They’re your songs?”
She gave me a look. “I’ve only had a few writing credits, and most of them are courtesies. These are songs I wrote but have never been recorded.”
“The lyrics are beautiful.” I traced the path of one at the top of the expanse of her, reveling in the warm, smooth skin under my fingertip. “Can you record these songs? Would you?”
Her chest rose high on an inhale and fell suddenly with a sharp exhale. “I would, but I’m fairly sure my label won’t want them. I tried on the last album, right before Candy passed, and they patted me on the head and said keep doing what I do.”
“Writing songs and making music isn’t what you do?”
She caught my gaze and stared at me, her face so serious, something about it raised an alarm in my mind.
“No. I’m the body. I’m the vessel or the puppet. I’m the show.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I bent and kissed the first word I’d just touched, then dropped my head to her chest and held her to me. “You are far, far more than that.”
