Page 49 of Fresh Tracks
His eyes fall to my lips and I see his nostrils flare and I know that he is.
“Did you get yourself all on the same page yet?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper. I feel the tension between us, the air humming with electricity.
“Rainbow,” he says, his voice radiating conflict and I already have my answer. “I?—”
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then,” I say, his eyes flaring up to mine and I can see the anguish in them. He looks like he’s about to say something until for some stupid reason, I bite down on his thumb. Both of our eyes drop down and then find each other’s again.
He quirks that pierced eyebrow at me and hums in confusion, looking at his thumb and back at me. I let go, realizing just how unhinged I probably seem right now.
I stand up to start walking out of this room, wondering what I’m reading wrong about this again.
“Goodnight, TJ,” I say, reaching the doorway and looking back to see him still kneeling by the guitar stand.
He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a long, frustrated sigh. I still see the mix of emotions swirling, but more than that, I see a look of compassion.
He finally shakes his head and smirks back at me. “Night, Rainbow. And I mean it, don’t beat yourself up. It’s not a big deal.”
I cannot sleep.When I left TJ’s house, I went straight to my van, which now thanks to him, is more than warm running on the electric heater with ample power. It was yet another reminder of how infuriating he is.
So now, I’m wandering around in the dark in his guesthouse, on my way to get a hot shower to try and relax.
Somehow, he’s always doing the right thing. Being a great boss, being overly generous with his time and energy, not treating me like I’m some fragile doll that needs to be constantly watched and cared for. The man gave me free roam of his house and guesthouse, but doesn’t push when I want to spend every night in my van like the feral little heathen that I am. Then there’s the whole part about him smelling and looking like a damn snack that I literally just nibbled on. He definitely has to think I’m unhinged after that.
But he’s been so compassionate too. I still can’t believe he didn’t even bat an eye when I broke his first guitar. How did he not care? I know guys who would lose their shit over way less than that. He just shrugged, smiled at me, and moved on. Hiscompassion doesn’t end with me either. The amount that man has given to charity over the years is astounding.
Then there’s the decisiveness, which is the most maddening of them all. He’s been decisive with every suggestion I’ve made to him at work. He was the same way with running power for my van.
But when it comes to whatever is going on between us, he’s been the opposite, palpably conflicted about it.
I see that same, magnetic pull to spontaneity in him that fuels me to my core. That same lust for living life to the fullest. I just want him to let go and give in to it like I know he wants to.
I know there’s something here. Maybe he just needs a little more of a push than I thought.
CHAPTER 20
TJ
INDECISIVE LOSER
Somehow,I find myself sitting alone in my studio again, holding my old guitar. For the last half hour, I’ve been staring at this old piece of wood, turning it over in my hands, thinking about all the memories we’ve shared.
I remember learning to play on this guitar. I remember the feeling of having something of my own that went from foster home to foster home with me. I remember the way she smiled when I tried to teach her a couple chords.
But most of all, I remember the feeling of her lips on mine, the smell of her lavender shampoo, and the way she looked at me through her bangs with unfettered longing in her beautiful emerald eyes.
Shit. Those perfect, heart stopping eyes that feel like they cut right through me and strip away every façade I could ever try to put up around her.
For the first time tonight, I saw worry — no — terror in them when she broke my guitar. I can’t believe she thought I’d be mad about it. That’s not me. I couldn’t care less about things like that.
What I do care about is her. Maybe it’s time I start thinking about what I should do next. Maybe I should give her morecredit. Hell, she clearly wants me and isn’t shy about it. And god knows I want her.
Part of the reason I’m drawn to her is because she seems like such an old soul, not bothered by things that most people seem to obsess over.
Yeah, I need to talk to her.
I get off my stool, setting the cracked guitar back on its stand by the window. Stepping up to the glass, I see the lights in the guesthouse are on.
Damnit. I hope she’s not inside because there’s a problem with the power for her van heater. Grabbing my phone, I shoot her a text.
