Page 6 of Rock My Girl

CASSIE

Itook a few deep breaths to clear my mind before hitting play.

The first time listening to this collection of songs felt important, and I was relieved that Ford had walked away to give me a bit of space. It felt like he wanted to be close to me, but he also cared about my comfort. That meant a lot.

Opening my notebook to jot down the title of the first song, there was a page filled with unfamiliar handwriting. Ford must have actually been writing during our photoshoot.

"Cassie, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I'm sitting here watching you take photos, and want to take the camera and turn it on you. Hopefully I'll find the courage to ask you out, but either way, please know that this has already been the best photo shoot of my life."

A surge of heat flared through me. Such an incredibly sexy man was actually interested in me?

I couldn't believe it. Glancing over to where he was cheerfully washing a few pots and pans, his large frame swayed gently as if he were humming to himself. I lifted the headphones for a second to check. He was.

I smiled. I loved that he wasn't the brooding artist type.

Finally hitting play, I listened carefully to all eleven songs. My eyes were mostly closed as I scribbled pages of notes, quickly abandoning my notebook for the larger legal pads. When I opened my eyes, I saw Ford standing across the room by the window, staring outside, lost in thought.

He was a beautiful, beautiful man. Although I didn't follow his career very closely, I could see why he was a rock star. The perfectly sculpted, slightly dramatic face. The tall, strong frame. His unusual grace would look incredible moving around a stage.

The summer his first album was released, I recall he had been interviewed by everyone. I didn't read many of them, but the few I skimmed he seemed fairly down to earth.

And anyone who would leap so fast to protect a stranger from an angry drunk must be a good man, right? I wanted to trust him.

Maybe if I stopped being shy, and was completely open with my ideas about his music, he’d trust me in return.

Unplugging the headphones, I turned up the volume on the laptop, then played the first song.

Staring down at my notes, I sang along with Ford's recorded voice. I changed the tune slightly in a few places, modified the lyrics in the chorus, and sang a different harmony in the bridge.

When I finished, I tapped the spacebar to stop the music, and took a sip of water.

Ford had been frozen, staring down at the floor as he listened intently. Then his eyes lifted up to meet mine.

"Cassie," he whispered. "That was incredible."

He came to sit beside me on the couch and took my hand. "You instinctively knew everything that was missing, and filled it in."

I didn't know what to say. "It was only my first try."

Ford grinned, showing perfect white teeth, and a few tiny smile lines around his eyes. "Just yesterday I was starting to panic, thinking that I couldn't find a way to make this album shine."

I couldn't help smiling and my stomach tightened when his fingers slipped so naturally through mine.

"I've been working on these songs for so long that I don’t hear them clearly anymore," he continued. "But you instantly knew what it needed."

"I don't think I really know anything," I said. "Just you asked me to goof around, so I did."

"Can you do it again?" he asked. "Let me record a scratch track, and send it to my manager James. He's deathly honest."

Ford squeezed my hand, then darted into the next room. By the time I caught up to him he was lowering a microphone to my height. He took the page of lyric fragments from me and taped it to the wall at eye level.

Ford placed a different pair of headphones on me, adjusting them carefully. Then he rested his hands on my shoulders. "Just sing naturally," he said. "This is just for you, me, and James. And maybe Frank, and a couple of the label people, if they start digging into why I'm running a bit late on this."

Geez, that wasn't nerve-wracking at all.

Ford lingered behind me, keeping his hands on my shoulders for a few more seconds. My nervousness shifted from singing to wondering if he was genuinely interested.

I've never dated. I've never really been interested, assuming that I'd get around to it when my life was in order.

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