AllFreeNovel
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“Why that name?”
“Well, I love that it includes the town name, especially since we’re all here now, and well gold for many reasons. Gold is still on par with a pop music look. It will market well even though I think this album will be a mixture of pop and bluegrass, and gold reminds me of sunrises. Sunrises inspire that moment when we reflect on what happened yesterday but are excited about the possibility of what the new day will bring. It’s calm, warm, and hopeful.”
“And here I thought you picked gold because I call you Goldie.” I smirk.
“You wish.” She smiles back as she moves toward her pantry to put away the dry goods.
“So bluegrass?”
“Yeah, I think it fits where we are right now.” She moves to the refrigerator and takes out a cone-shaped plastic bag with some sort of tip and yellow cream. “In combination with American folk music, I want to combine the elements found in bluegrass music. There’s old-time mountain music, fiddling that Emma can do, blues, gospel, and jazz. It’s a different vibe from our other albums, but still us, and I think we can pull it off.” She sets it on the counter next to the freshly baked cupcakes.
“I didn’t realize you play the piano too.”
She smiles brightly at me like I’m a dumbass while collecting the dirty dishes and then moves to the sink to drop them and grab a bottle of cleaner and paper towels.
“Most musicians can play the piano to some varying degree. The cello is the tenor voice of the instruments. It plays in the lower octave. Typically, it doesn’t carry the main melody, it accompanies it. The piano helps me create the basic chord progression, the rift, the overall melody. This one is digital, so it records what I’ve come up with. I send it to Avery, and she does her thing from there.”
“So how does it work? Songwriting. Is it hard?”
She begins wiping down the work area. “I don’t know that I think it’s easy, but I love it. We all do. Some of my favorite memories are when we can get together and have jam sessions. Usually, it all starts with a feeling. There’s something that we each feel, and it resonates deep inside. This becomes the concept or theme. Like this time with the bluegrass. It just feels right. From there, we break off into two parts. We start jotting down story ideas for the lyrics and working on the chords. The best way I know to describe writing a song is like building a house. You put up the frame and then slowly build around it.”
“That’s good that you love it. Most people never find the thing that they love.”
“Well, you should try telling my family that this weekend,” she tosses out.
Hearing that they don’t support her twists and shifts something inside me. Goldie is quickly becoming one of my favorite people, and I probably like her a lot more than I should. She should never feel any less worthy than who she is or what she does, and this wave of protectiveness blankets me.
“Is there anything I need to know before we go?”
“No. Clay and Emma are going with us. We’re going to meet them for a quick bite beforehand. We’re eating at one of my favorite places, and this way, you won’t be led into the lion’s den alone.” She tosses the paper towels into the garbage and returns to the counter with the cupcakes, a bowl of icing, and the bag.
“I’m not worried. Consider me an elephant. They take out lions.”
“An elephant?” She laughs while glancing at me. She’s so pretty when she laughs. Hell, she’s pretty when she’s scowling at me too.
“Yes, you should see my trunk.” I wiggle my brows, and her cheeks flush pink again.
“Oh. My. God. It’s like you have no filter. None. You just say whatever you want, whenever you want.”
I’m smiling so big, my cheeks hurt, and I watch as her eyes drift over my face and linger on my lips.
“Not whenever, just with those I feel comfortable with. Otherwise, I don’t talk much at all.”
She tilts her head as she thinks about this and maybe remembers our first few interactions. I’m not sure when I became comfortable with her, but it’s been a while now, and like the night I crashed at her house, I’m constantly drawn to her and her light.
I lick my lips. Her eyes flare a tiny bit, then she spins to face the counter.
“Come taste this icing and tell me what you think. I’m going over to Avery’s in a bit to take them to her, and I want to make sure it’s not too sweet,” she says, grabbing the wooden spoon in the bowl and stirring it a few times.
Hesitating just for a beat, I make a flash decision, and instead of moving next to her, I walk up behind her and crowd her into the counter. I want to be closer to her, and I want to feel her pressed up against me.
She lets out a small sound as my front leans into her back. I reach over her to stick my finger in the bowl, then put it in my mouth. She glances back at me over her shoulder to watch my reaction, but I don’t give her one. It’s the perfect buttercream, and filthy thoughts race through my mind about what I’d like to do with this icing, her, and my tongue.
Never breaking eye contact, I stick my finger back in the icing and hold it out in front of her in a silent challenge. She turns a little, looks at my finger, at me, and then back at my finger. My heart rate picks up as I’m dying to know what she will do.
And then, very slowly, she leans forward, wraps her lips around my finger, keeps her eyes locked on mine, swirls her warm tongue around me, and sucks it off.
It’s probably the single most erotic moment of my life, and now all I can think about is her lips and tongue wrapped around other parts of me.
