Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Whenever you want, papi.” A yawn broke free, keeping me from scoffing at my own behavior. Listen to me. Nicky called Gideon papi all the time; he musta rubbed off on me. “When do we have to get up tomorrow?”
“I set my alarm earlier. I figured six thirty would be safe. Then we don’t have to rush through breakfast.”
Six thirty. Cazzo. I wasn’t used to getting up that early. The Initiative had contracts with a few different elementary schools in our area, but even they didn’t schedule music before ten. And the rest of the classes were private, so they were obviously scheduled to start once school was out for the day.
“Then we better get some shut-eye,” I said, stretching out along his body. “I’m not the friendliest person in the morning.”
August smiled and scrubbed his hands over his face. “No one’s worse than Camden.”
We’d see.
Chapter 8
Washed by the Water - I
I chugged half a bottle of water as Luiz and Chris guided us into what was the most challenging song for me, personally. I had to bring out the gospel singer in me, and I glanced back to find Maria giving me a reassuring nod.
Chris’s bass danced with Luiz’s crashing cymbals, and Nicky unleashed the feedback effect from his guitar. It was about everything I’d get where backup sound was concerned, at least through the parts where my singing was the focus.
I cleared my throat and gestured to Luiz that I was ready.
Have mercy.
I summoned all the strength I could at the bottom of my stomach and screwed my eyes shut. Only Maria and Matt existed at the forefront of my mind; it was them I sang with, them I led through the first two minutes of the eight-minute-long song.
Have mercy.
Then I got a quick breather but made sure I never looked out over the crowd. This song was too personal; I put every fiber and emotion of myself into it. Luiz took it away, expertly, and marked on the tom right before everyone else joined in. Bass, drums, guitars, keyboard, choir.
I bent the strings and bobbed my head to the beat, delivering a short solo that Sylvia took over soon enough.
Have fucking mercy.
In my defense, the reason I wasn’t feeling moody the following morning was August.
“If you’d canceled your reservation yesterday like I told you to, they wouldn’t be charging you for a second night you’re not even there.” He nuzzled my neck and nipped at my skin, sharply enough for me to wince.
“Lesson learned?” I grinned lazily and set down my phone on the kitchen counter. Then I locked my arms around his neck and sought out his lips. “I didn’t know youse were gonna want me to stay beyond the first night, and the motel had already charged me for that.”
He hummed into a slow, tongue-teasing kiss. “Well, now you know. You’re mine for the rest of your stay in Nashville.”
I could live with that.
I deepened the kiss and thought, I could live with this too. Waking up in August’s bed, to his kisses, to him seducing me, to him fucking me like a god in the shower, then coming down here to make breakfast together while the sun rose outside.
The coffee was ready.
The eggs were scrambled and cooking on low heat.
Bacon strips in the oven.
“Daddy!” Camden whined sleepily from upstairs. “Why’d’ju set my ’laaarm?”
August and I laughed a little and broke our kiss, and he rested his forehead on my shoulder for a second.
Okay, so maybe Camden took the prize for morning crankiness.
“One day, he’s gonna learn that we don’t allow yellin’ in this house,” August murmured.
“Today’s not that day,” I chuckled.
Camden stomped down the stairs and huffed and puffed to himself all the way to the kitchen.
Christ, he was adorable. Hair pointing in every direction, sleep in his eyes, Darth Vader pajama pants. He must’ve changed them.
“Mornin’, baby boy.” August withdrew from my arms and went to check the bacon in the oven. “What have we said about hollerin’ across the house?”
“That it’s okay for emergencies,” Camden grumbled. “I’m not goin’ to the festival. Why did you wake me?”
“Because I thought you’d want breakfast with us before we take off,” August replied. “We need to discuss your chores for the day too.”
“Darn it,” Camden complained. “I don’t like chores.”
No one did, but I was eager to find out more about their dynamic. So far, I was hooked on the family feel of it all.
Camden continued moaning in agony at his merciless fate of having chores while we finished up preparing breakfast. I was in charge of the toaster that August brought out from a cupboard, and Camden was told to bring out some blankets to the patio.
Maybe their Southern asses couldn’t handle anything below sixty-five, I didn’t know.
It was jeans and T-shirt weather for me.