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Roman: Buy her something nice and tell her she’s pretty. Haha
King: If only she were that easy ...
Roman: I’ll work on her, but you know how she is
King: Yeah, I do. That’s why I’m worried
Roman: Sorry, man. Skye’s calling me, gotta bolt. Safe trip. Keep me posted on what you find out
King: Will do
“Everything okay?”
Juliet’s voice startles me, and I almost drop my phone. She’s standing at the foot of the stairs in one of my T-shirts, the fabric skimming her upper thigh. Sexy as hell.
“Yeah, all good. Why?”
“You’re scowling.” She crosses the kitchen, winding her arms around my neck and pressing her warm lips to mine. I relax into her, minty toothpaste tingling as I slide my tongue over her teeth.
“Not anymore,” I murmur, palming her bare ass. My fingers itch to dive into her wet heat, drive her wild right here in the kitchen. But we need to get going. Figure there’ll be plenty of time for that later.
Pulling away before I change my mind, I brush a lock of hair from her face. “You want coffee? Breakfast? I can scramble some eggs before we head out.”
“Coffee sounds good. I don’t usually eat a big breakfast.”
“Okay. We can always stop for an early lunch on the road. But we should head out soon. It’s a solid drive. Don’t want to pull into Peachtree Grove too late.”
“Agreed. I’ll throw on my clothes, and then we can hit the road.” She flashes a bright smile at me, and my anxiety slides away.
Half an hour later, I’m easing onto I-75, heading north toward Atlanta. Windows rolled down, music cranked up, Juliet singing along to Every. Single. Song. Like, word for word.
“You know every song on the radio?” I cut my eyes at her, marvel at her full pink lips as she belts out the chorus to Garth Brooks’s “The Thunder Rolls.”
She laughs, throwing her head back, the waves of her hair brushing over her narrow shoulders.
“Not every song. But most of them. I used to want to be a singer. Back before I realized that only about one in a million make it in Nashville.”
She tucks a leg up under her, twirls a strand of hair in her fingers.
“You have a great voice. You ever try to sing, like with a band or something?”
Juliet guffaws. “Sure. With all that spare time I have.”
“For what it’s worth, I love listening to you sing.” I squeeze her thigh, and she shoots me a wide smile.
“Thanks, King. But you may be a touch biased.”
“Why? Because you’re my girlfriend?”
The word feels weird coming out of my mouth. Strange, different. But not bad.
Her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink, and she glances over at me.
“Yeah. Because you’re my boyfriend. And that’s something a boyfriend would say.”
“Well, I’m just speaking the truth.”
“Thanks. If American Idol ever comes to town, I’ll be sure to audition.”
