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Twenty minutes later, Presley’s mom took Delilah home, much to the little girl’s disappointment. She’d run over to hug Cassie goodbye, and tell her how pretty her voice was, before Presley lifted her up, hugged her tight, and promised her he’d be home soon.
She still felt bad about the way she’d accused him of being a bad dad. Especially when anybody could see how much his daughter adored him.
And how he adored her right back.
It made the back of her neck feel hot as she watched him close his eyes and bury his face in his daughter’s hair, like she was the most precious thing in the world.
After another half an hour, Marley called a break. Alex ran out straight away, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and stuffing one between his lips before he’d even made it out of the door. Marley climbed down from his seat behind the drums and grinned at her.
“Coffee, tea? Or we have beer?”
It turned out the studio had a kitchen that was fully stocked. She ended up getting water as Marley explained that the studio was mostly rented out nowadays. There were accommodations to the rear, and she listened as he reeled off a list of famous bands who’d recorded their albums in this building.
“Silver Thunder was made here?” she asked. “I never knew that.”
“My dad has a lot of connections. He produced that album.”
She hadn’t known that either. Sure, she’d worked out that their dad was THE Gray Hartson. But she had no idea he’d become a producer when he’d retired from recording and performing.
The door behind her swung open, and she felt a gust of cold air, making her shiver.
“Beer?” Marley asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Sure.” Pres nodded, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry. Just wanted to check that Mom and the kid are okay.”
Marley pulled a beer from the refrigerator, and she stepped back to let Presley pass, but the kitchen was small and he was big so his body still brushed against hers.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Pres glanced down at her. She was wearing sneakers, needing the comfort tonight, and he towered over her. He took the bottle from Marley, twisting the top off and lifting it to his lips.
His throat undulated as he swallowed a mouthful.
And then she saw the label on the bottle. “Non alcoholic?” she asked.
“Gotta drive, got a kid.” He shrugged.
“But he likes the taste of beer,” Marley said. “So this has to cut it.”
“Don’t we all like the taste of beer?” Alex asked, striding back in. She could smell the thick aroma of smoke on him.
Good thing he wasn’t a vocalist. His voice would be even raspier than Pres’.
He took his own beer – this one with alcohol in it – and popped the cap. For a moment they all stood there, not talking.
And then she and Presley started at once.
“Is Delilah…” That was her.
“I’m sorry Delilah…” And that one him.
She let out a little laugh. “Sorry. You go first.”
“I’m sorry she kept hanging around you. You must get enough of that during the day at work.”
Cassie blinked. “Not at all. She’s lovely. And so friendly. I imagine she’s like that with most people. Naturally outgoing.”
“No, not really. She can be pretty shy.” He shrugged, picking at the label on his bottle. “But thank you. Apparently she was talking about you the whole way home.”
