“I’m not worried,” I lie as I lean over to look out the window.
The setting sun casts a brilliant peach glow over the city, the reflection off mirrored windows making the cityscape seem warm and inviting.
Richmond has been my part-time home for more than a year, yet I haven’t given it the attention it deserves. I’ve barely chanced a brief escape from my isolation to take notice of how beautiful it is.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Linden asks.
“Yeah, it is.” I keep my attention on the skyline, breathing through the ebbing anxiety. “And I’m starting to regret the solitude that’s made me miss sights like this.”
He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t say a word. But the vibe between us changes. Something in the air makes me turn to look at him, finding him staring back at me with heartfelt kindness.
“Do you want me to give you credit for the epiphany?” I drawl.
“Not at all. I don’t think there’s any credit to be taken. You and Mason did what you needed to do to protect yourselves. I’m only glad I could remind you that there’s still a world out here with hidden corners that aren’t filled with assholes.”
“Don’t speak too soon. I’m not entirely convinced yet. But it’s nice here. Thank you for pushing me.”
“You’re welcome.”
I pull my cell from my jeans pocket and swipe to the recording app. “Are you ready to get back into the swing of this song?”
“Sure thing.” A subtle grin tilts his lips. “From memory, our discussion ended at good girl.”
“Who’s a good girl?” Zack approaches and awkwardly steps over the rope barricade, a tray of drinks in his hand. “And can you give her my number?” He places a cocktail glass in front of me, then a beer before Linden.
I claim my beverage, greedily taking a long sip of the pink concoction. The sweet, chilled liquid coats my tongue with an undercurrent of alcohol potent enough to blow my head off.
“We’re talking lyrics.” Linden shoos him away. “This is an important project. Which means we need to keep the booze flowing.”
“As you wish.” Zack leaves with a lazy salute while I keep sip, sip, sipping to soothe my stabilizing nerves.
“Hmm.” Linden slumps into his seat and muses, “Good girl,” over and over as if trying to reignite inspiration.
“The way you say that—with the deep timbre and the devilish tweak to your lips—” I shake my head in awe. “There’s no way this song won’t break records.”
“If we can get it right.”
“We’ll get it right.”
We murmur to ourselves for almost half an hour, throwing lyrics back and forth that don’t quite hit the target as we finish our first drink and move on to another. It’s fun though—blurting dirty one-liners, laughing over lost trains of thought.
I pause mid-sip of my newest cocktail. “What about having something like— be a good girl, get on your knees…”
He smirks. “You know I’m not a hard man to please?”
“It’s definitely tamer than—Let me put this dick between your double Ds.”
He snorts, spitting a dribble of beer onto his chin that he quickly wipes away. “That one might get me banned from mainstream radio.”
“You said you wanted to make waves, right?” A resurgence of alcoholic confidence hits my veins. Either that or the lack of a screaming mob is making me seriously hopeful I might be turning a corner with my hibernation.
“I’d also like to be able to continue looking my mother in the eye,” he adds.
“If that’s the case, your suggestion is definitely better.” I take another gulp of the sweet cocktail. “Or we could save the good girl reference for the chorus and have something like—You’re a good, good girl, in a bad, bad bed. Such a good, good girl, who keeps fucking with my head.”
“So profound. I love it. You have a way with words, Sid.”
“The problem will be creating a clean version that can make an impact without the juiciest lyrics.”
“We can figure that out later.” He taps his thumb against the table, repeating a constant rhythm.
I hum alongside him. “Your blue eyes tame me; your curves slay me. Let’s quit these flirty games and…”
“…and make the world a memory?” He grabs his beer, his attention fixated on the glass. “It would have to be brown eyes, though. Not blue.”
I raise a brow. “Why is that?” Does heartthrob Linden Lee have a love interest the public doesn’t know about?
He shifts in his seat, sheepish despite the playboy smile.
He does have a girlfriend.
“Who knows?” I ask.
“Nobody.” The joy leaves his face, his gaze serious as it meets mine. “And it has to stay that way. She won’t become a part of the media circus. She’ll leave me if that happens.”
My stomach falls.
“And I’m only humoring this conversation because I think you, of all people, will understand this situation.”
“I do,” I say.
“She’s not the limelight type.” His expression turns pained. “So much so that if the light touches her, I’ll lose her.”
It’s clear he adores this woman… But keeping a relationship secret with his growing celebrity status will be near impossible. “Love changes us. She might see things differently when the news breaks.”
“When?” He huffs. “You’re not giving much hope that we can continue hiding.”
The light will eventually touch her. It always does.
“Don’t worry,” he continues. “We’ve been doing this a few months now. And we’re getting better at it. I’ve got faith I can keep it a secret.”
I nod, gently reassuring him despite holding none of his confidence. “I’m sure you’ll both be fine.” I sip my cocktail, shamelessly trying to hide my lack of faith behind my straw. “Do you have a photo of her?”
“What kind are you looking for?” He waggles his brows.
I roll my eyes. “One with clothes on.”
He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out his cell. Then he spends the next few minutes thoughtfully scanning through the device as if he’s reliving heartfelt memories.
“Are you going to show me?” I ask.
He grins. “Nope.”
I reach across the table, attempting to grab the phone. “You can’t tell me your big secret and demand lyrics to represent your mystery woman, then deny me a glimpse.”
He pulls the cell closer to his chest with a chuckle. “Of course I can. This is payback for you walking out on me earlier and leaving me with your agitated husband.”
“Fiancé.” I slide from the booth to crowd him. “Hand it over.” I reach out, palm up, waiting.
He snickers while one finger flicks across the screen as if he’s glancing through a photo album. Taunting me.
I place a knee on the padded booth seat and lunge toward him. He counters with a laugh, tilting his shoulder to block me while he continues to scroll.
“Now you’re just being mean.” I climb onto the booth with both knees and attempt to snatch the device. “Why won’t you let me see?”