Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“Why not? It’s not like Nashville is that far. A couple hours on a plane.”
“She’s going on another tour soon, and I’ve got a business to open. We’re just too busy. Our lives are too separate.” The pit was starting to fill with an uncomfortable longing for something I didn’t want to think about. And I was good at locking uncomfortable feelings away into boxes. “Anyway, I hope you have a great day. Enjoy the last year of your twenties.”
“I’d enjoy it more if it ended with me getting that promotion. I can’t believe how bad I fucked this up without even knowing it. I mean, what are the chances? Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you know?”
“I know. But hey, was it worth it?”
“You know what?” He was silent a moment, like he was into the memory. “It was.”
Later that afternoon, I pinned Kelly to the ground, knees on either side of her hips, hands locked around her wrists, pushing them into the ground. “What do you do if someone gets you like this?”
“Bridge high, throw low.”
“Do it.”
She bucked her hips up hard, causing me to pitch forward—a guy would face plant above her head if he didn’t release her wrists to catch himself. As soon as her arms were free, she swept them down to her sides along the grass snow-angel style, then immediately wrapped them around my torso, turning her face to the side to avoid my chest smashing her face.
“Tighter,” I commanded. “You can’t leave any space in between when you hug the tree, or he’ll get an arm back in between you.”
She squeezed harder, her cheek against my chest. “Like that?”
“Yes. Now what?”
“Climb the tree. Wrap the arm.” She scooted up, hooked her left arm around my right bicep, and rolled me onto my back. “And from here . . .” Her elbow came slicing toward my face from the right, and after I blocked it, she jabbed the same elbow straight down, stopping just short of my gut. Then she jumped up and ran.
“Good job,” I said, getting to my knees. “Now come back and let’s do it again.”
She hurried back to me and lay on the grass again, letting me pin her down. I didn’t love being outside like this—I imagined photos were being taken of us right this second, and without the context of self-defense lessons, they’d look like something else was going on—but I did like knowing that the asshole with the camera would see she could protect herself. And fuck what anyone else thought. As long as she was safe, I didn’t care.
“You sure you want me to escape this time?” she teased.
“Yes,” I said seriously. “I want you to escape every time.”
“Okay, but kiss me first.”
“Kelly, I’m not playing. I want you to learn this stuff. I hope you never have to use it, but if you do, I want there to be no hesitation whatsoever.”
“I am learning! And if anyone but you was pinning me like this, I would not hesitate. I promise.” She smiled. “One kiss?”
“Earn it first. Go.”
She thrust up explosively, forcing me to break my fall. She repeated the tree climb and the arm wrap, successfully getting me beneath her before fake-delivering the elbow jabs. But she didn’t run this time.
“Now can I have my kiss?”
“Inside.”
She looked around. “You really think someone is still out there?”
“I think we have to assume so.”
“And would you be embarrassed to be seen kissing Pixie Hart?”
“Of course not. It’s just nobody’s fucking business. You don’t have to give them that piece of you.” I want all of you to myself.
“You’re right. I don’t.” She smiled. “Let’s go inside.”
That night, we were invited for dinner over at Austin’s. On the ride over, Kelly seemed distracted. Her hands were in her lap, and she kept scrunching up the material of her dress—this one was white with blue flowers on it, and it had ties on each shoulder and a flirty little skirt. Worried she was having second thoughts about those photographs, I asked her what was on her mind.
“I got a text from my manager while you were in the shower,” she said. “The performance at the Music City Awards is a sure thing. One of the producers got in touch.”
“That’s great news, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but Duke must be in everyone’s ears, because now even my manager wants me to get back to Nashville immediately to start rehearsals.”
“Like when?”
“Like tomorrow.”
“Fuck that,” I said, reluctant to end our private days and nights together. “They want you, they get you when they get you.”
She laughed ruefully. “It doesn’t really work that way if you’re me. I don’t have tons of leverage. And the thing is, it’s not so much about going home three days sooner as it is about not wanting Duke to think he calls the shots for me.”