Page 62 of Fresh Tracks
I swipe to end the call and look over to find Josie, grinning ear to ear. She leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees, pressing her hands together under her chin.
“What was he going to say before you cut him off?”
“Nothing.” My voice betrays me and comes out as a high pitched squeak.
“Oh, come on. Kiss and tell, Rainbow,” she says, dragging out that name and enjoying this way too much.
“Nope,” I say, smirking at her before standing up and walking toward the back of my van to get ready for the day on the slopes.
I turn to find her still watching me. I raise my hands to my side, turning my palms out. “What?”
“Hot Boss likes you,” she says, raising her eyebrows at me.
“Tell me something I don’t know, Josie.” My face heats, remembering the other night and the feeling of his stubble on my thighs.
She shakes her head and laughs. “You like him too, clearly.”
I’m starting to realize that might be more of an understatement than she knows.
I have alwaysloved sunrise in Jackson. The sight of the low valley of the Snake River concealed in fog, bracketed by the low rolling hills painted in iridescent sunlight to the east and the tall, imposing granite peaks of the Teton Mountains to the west, stillcloaked in darkness, is something I will never get tired of. It’s a view I will always cherish after growing up here… a feeling of home.
Today though, when I pull into Tommy’s driveway and head to his backdoor at the crack of dawn, nothing can compare to the thrill I get when I see the lights in his studio on from the patio, telling me he’s already awake.
I rush in the house, quickly making my way straight to the studio. It only took a few weeks, but I’m much more familiar with how to get around in his house now without ending up in the wrong room.
I get to the studio door, finding it cracked open with a familiar sliver of light trickling out into the hallway. I stop and collect myself before slowly pushing the door open. That’s when the familiar notes of the song I heard him playing the other day float through the air. I stand there and lean against the doorframe, listening to the notes while he plays looking out the window.
I watch the muscles of his back ripple under his shirt as he reaches the point where the song stopped before, but now he keeps going. The song continues, the notes building tension as they go until he stops abruptly, dragging out one note that vibrates through the room. It’s both beautiful and harsh, grungy and lively, all at once.
He scribbles something down on his notebook in his lap before carefully setting the guitar on the stand by his side. He reaches up, brushing his unkept hair away from his ear and plucking out his ear bud. I take that as my cue to come in.
“For someone who’s allegedly retired from music and says they don’t play anymore, you’re in here an awful lot.”
He looks over his shoulder, his eyes immediately finding mine. The bright smile he points my way with his dimples popped, makes my thighs clench. I take a second to admire thatshade of blue that reminds me of the sky on a perfect bluebird day on the slopes.
“Missed you, Rainbow.” His deep, smooth voice comes out as a caress.
I step toward him, standing between his thighs, looping my arms around his neck. He wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him by the waistband of my sweatpants, looking up at me and I can see the longing in his eyes, making my heart flutter. I lean down, pressing my lips to his for a short, breathy kiss. When I pull back, he tugs on my lower lip, letting out a low growl.
I let out a short laugh, playfully pushing him in the chest. “I missed you too.”
My eyes roam over him, starting at his ruffled hair, down to his stubble that he clearly hasn’t shaved since I’ve been gone with that just right dusting of gray. He smirks at me, making the corners of his eyes crinkle, as my eyes drift down, admiring how his black v-neck hugs his chest and shoulders. I reach out, playing with his leather necklace, my fingertips lazily grazing his chest hair. I look down between us, spotting that familiar, dusty old notebook in his lap.
“I know you get asked this all the time, but why did you guys stop playing together?”
He follows my eyes to the notebook and nods before tossing it down by the guitar. He pulls me into his lap, pressing a kiss to my neck, prompting me to hum contentedly. His hands run under my hoodie and find the hem of the thin bralette I slept in. He may not be much taller than me, but something about the way he confidently handles my body in his hands is enough to make my core thrum with need.
He reaches up, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. His callused fingertips drift over my neck, over my pulse point,before he cups my nape. “I’m never tired of talking with you. I will always be an open book for you.” His eyes drift to the notebook on the ground and I feel him sigh, his other hand resting on my hip.
“The other guys just cared more and more about money and fame. When we started, they were both good guys. Sure, Vince was a dumbass and would get into trouble all the time, but he was always well-meaning. Then Stan was a blast to hang out with and was creative as hell, but he was always chasing the next girl. You add money and fame to the mix though, it just brought out the worst in them. All I ever cared about was how music made me feel. The longer it went on, the more it killed it for me. And one day, I just woke up and that feeling was gone. It’s like it didn’t love me back anymore, no matter how much I wanted it to. And then finally, I didn’t love it anymore either.” I watch his eyes close and his throat bob when he swallows. He chuckles to himself and shakes his head, looking back at me. “There’s something ironic about it all now.”
I’ve heard the rumors from years ago that there was drama in the band and creative disagreements, but hearing this is different. It’s such an intimate confession and I can feel the tension and pain in him, even after so many years. I nod and raise my eyebrows in question, hoping he continues.
He takes another deep breath, holding me tighter. “I never cared about all of the crap that comes with succeeding in that business. Somehow though, I’m the one that ended up being successful outside of music when I only did it for the love of music.”
I press a kiss to his cheek, rubbing circles on his back. “I can’t exactly relate to all of that, but I’m glad it brought you here.”
He tilts my chin up, peering into my heart with those perfect baby blues. “Me too.”
