“Sorry. I smelled whatever it is you got going on there.” I point to the oven.
“Yeah, I went to the grocery store and decided to make a breakfast roll.”
“Breakfast roll?”
“Yeah, it’s croissants with sausage, cream cheese, and shredded cheddar cheese. You layer it and then roll it and bake it. It’s good, I promise.”
“I have no doubt from the smell. How much longer?” I ask as I make my way toward the coffee pot, which is also next to Logan.
“Just about ten more minutes.”
I busy myself making a cup of coffee. Leaning back against the counter, I cross my legs and take a sip. My eyes follow her as she bustles around my kitchen. She chose to wash the dishes by hand instead of placing them in the dishwasher. My guess is that she’s trying to keep the place decent for Nancy.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” she asks as she leans against the island, facing me.
“Writing.”
“How’s it going?”
“Good, last night we pretty much finished an entire song. We usually work on each one until we get it perfect, well, perfect for us. We’ll fine-tune it a little today, and then move on to the next one.”
“Do you all just stop at a certain number of songs?”
She seems to be genuinely interested. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation like this about my passion with anyone other than the guys or our parents, definitely not with a woman.
“Not really. We have several that we’ve written in the past, but we decided not to record them on the album. We usually have between ten and fifteen songs on each album.” I take a drink of my coffee. Her eyes stays glued to me; I have her undivided attention. “We usually write ten or so more than we will need. Then we even go back to old works and combine everything to determine what will go on the album. Sometimes we change a few lyrics and the beat on something we wrote two years ago, and it makes the cut. All four of us get to choose one each that we insist goes onto each album. The rest of the songs have to be mutually agreed upon by all four of us.”
“That’s awesome! I love how you each get to have your own pick, your mark on the album. I mean, your mark is there because it’s your material, but to know that you can pick one song that really speaks to you, you’re lucky the label lets you have that freedom.”
“They pretty much let us have all the say. We’ve made them a lot of money. Actually, the guys and I have thought about starting our own label.”
“Really? Wouldn’t that take time away from touring?” she asks.
I nod. “It would, but we all agree that being on the road all the time is not what we want to do forever.”
“No?”
I take another sip of my coffee. I’ve already given her more than most. Then again, the others have never asked, not like Logan did. There’s just something about her.
“So, what is it you want out of life, Kacen?”
Lifting my head, I capture her gaze. Those big brown eyes are watching me, waiting for an answer. Logan is a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of girl, the girl next door. She doesn’t play games, and she doesn’t care what my net worth is.
She’s real.
She deserves nothing but the same in return. Real. So I give it to her. “I want to make music. The writing process is what I love. It’s always been a passion of mine. Don’t get me wrong, I love performing, but the constant travel and being shoved into the limelight gets old quick. I could do without the groupies.”
She chuckles at this. “Come on, really?” she asks.
“Yes, really. Do you know what it’s like to never know if the person you’re with is with you for the right reasons?” I watch as her cute little button nose scrunches up as she processes my words. Might as well go all in. “I hope to someday be married and have a family. How is that supposed to happen when I can’t trust anyone around me? Fame brings deceit, and even though that same fame has given me a comfortable life, I find myself more often than not wishing for the normalcy.”
“Wow,” she whispers. “I guess I’ve never really thought of it that way. Your life, the lives of other musicians and celebrities, just seems so glamorous. I guess what they say is right: the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.”
This causes my lips to tilt up in a smile. “Have you been hanging out with my mother?” I ask her.
“Uh . . .”
Her response only makes my grin grow wider. “I’ve heard her say that exact phrase my entire life.”
I see understanding cross her face. “Well, she must be an amazing woman, your mother.”
The oven timer goes off and Logan springs into action, our conversation over. “Should I go wake the guys?”
“Nah, they’ll smell it and wander in.” I’m not ready to give up this time with her. I really like talking to her. From the moment I met her, there has been this . . . magnetic field that pulls me toward her. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced. It’s also hard to fight. I have to continue to remind myself that she’s now my employee.
Chapter 17
Logan
Saved by the timer. Kacen, at first glance, is eye candy. Kacen opening up, admitting that he wants a wife and kids in his future, that Kacen, he’s captivating. The combination is lethal.
I pull a knife from the butcher’s block on the counter and start slicing the breakfast roll. I freeze when I feel his hand on my body. He places it gently on the small of my back as he steps around me. His feather-light touch lingers as he reaches in the cabinet and pulls down five plates and places them on the counter next to me.
“Thank you.” My voice is breathy. I need to get myself together.
Must not lust after the boss.
I feel his breath against my cheek. “You’re welcome,” he says, leaning in close, his front is pressed against my back. His voice is deep and sexy as hell. Is it normal to be turned on by just his voice?
He slowly steps away and I miss the feel of his body pressed against mine.
“Fuck, that smells so good,” Cole announces as he strides into the kitchen and straight to the stove to see what I’ve made. “What is it? You know what, it doesn’t matter. It looks as good as it smells.”
I smile and hand him a plate. “You’re the best, Log,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
“Damn, girl, I could get used to waking up to you,” Tristan says, joining us.
“We may have to draw straws,” Gavin says as he follows Tristan to the stove.
“Enough!” Kacen barks.
I don’t turn around. Instead, I hand Tristan and Gavin their plates and then make one for Kacen. I turn to take it to him and he’s there. Our chests bump into one another and he reaches out his hand to steady the arm that holds his plate, while his other hand locks around my hip, holding me to him. I look up to find his eyes, those cerulean orbs, filled with heat. My breath catches in my chest.
Very slowly, he lifts the hand that reached out to steady mine and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Leaning in, he softly whispers, “Sorry.” His hands then drop to his sides and he takes a step back.