“What about Cash? It sounded like he was leaving.”
“He is,” he replied. “He’s going to Charleston, but he’ll be back in a couple of days.”
I nodded. “What’s in Charleston? Does he have family there?”
“He’s going to spend some time with his in-laws.”
“Wait. What?” I snapped my head in his direction. “Cash ismarried?Wow. I thought he kinda had a thing for Ella. I misjudged the heck out of that.”
“You didn’t,” he said gently. “Cash’s wife, Carrie, died almost a year ago. It was the week after Thanksgiving. Brain cancer.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He gazed at the houses we passed for a moment, lost in thought. “Cash is like our brother, and Carrie was kind of like our protective big sister. We called her our den mother. She was the one who made sure we had enough time off. She was always reminding us of that Dolly Parton quote,‘don’t get so busy making a living that you forget to make a life.’She was the one who made sure we didn’t exist solely on fast food and ramen. She made sure we took time to see the sights on some of our concert stops, where ordinarily, we wouldn’t have seen anything outside the venue or the hotel.”
“Well, any woman that quotes Dolly is good in my book,” I said. “It sounds like she was a really special person.”
“She was.” He nodded. “Cash still tries to go visit his in-laws as often as he can because, besides us, he doesn’t really have anyone else. Carrie’s parents really accepted him. He has a few other clients on his roster, but he’s with us most of the time, so we’ve sort of become his family.”
“It’s sweet how much you guys care about each other.”
“I can tell he digs Ella, but I think he’s honestly still a little lost,” he admitted. “He and Carrie were married for twelve years. I think he’s still trying to figure out how to live without her.” Thunder rumbled, causing the ground to tremble beneath our feet. A few raindrops announced their presence, splatting against the pavement. “It’sdefinitelygoing to rain.”
“We’re almost there.” I could see my white bungalow with the navy-blue shutters a few yards away.
“That’s your place up there, right?” Jax asked, gesturing toward my house. “It’s nice. I love the navy shu—” Before he could finish his sentence, the rain launched a monsoon level assault on us all at once. “Shit.”
“Run for it!” I screeched as we splashed down the sidewalk. We barreled up the stone walkway, not stopping until we were finally under the safety of the porch covering. “Oh my God.” I didn’t even have to see my reflection to know I looked like a drowned rat. I looked up at Jax, his long-sleeved black T-shirt clinging to every curve of his muscles.
“Wow.” He raked his fingers through his now sopping wet hair and looked down at his clothes. “The jeans didn’t fare too bad, but I think the shirt was a total loss.”
“I’m so sorry.” I fished my key out of my bag, shoving it in the lock and opening the door. “Let me throw your shirt in the dryer for you. I have some old concert T-shirts, and I bet one of them will fit you.” I trudged into the house, kicking my boots off by the door. He followed me inside, discarding his wet Chuck Taylors.
“I don’t think we’re exactly the same size.” He chuckled, following behind me as I padded my way down the hall.
“I know.” I laughed. “I used to have a thing for oversized concert T-shirts. It was a phase. Anyway, I’m pretty sure I still have a couple.” He followed me into my room, and my stomach lurched into my chest. I realized this was the first time I’d been in a bedroom, let alone a bedroom that belonged tome,with any man besides Ben. My heart began to race, and I was suddenly thankful I’d read that article a couple of months ago about the benefits of making your bed every day.
I tossed my purse on the bed and strode over to the closet, stepping inside. My mouth went dry as I rifled through the clothes, trying to focus on the shirt-seeking mission at hand and not the fact that Jaxon Slade was in my bedroom. I squatted down, sifting through the folded clothes in the organizing cubes.
“Is that… is that a guitar case?” Jax’s voice interrupted my search.
“Huh?” I asked absentmindedly. “Oh. Yeah. It is.”
“You play? Why didn’t you tell me?” I could hear the enthusiasm in his voice.
“I used to,” I replied nonchalantly. “As in past tense.”
“Whatever. You never forget how. It’s like riding a bike.”
My fingers finally landed on what I’d been looking for. I pulled the worn charcoal-grey Aerosmith shirt from its pile, checking the label inside the T-shirt before turning toward him. “Found it. It’s oversized on me, but it will probably fit y—” Before I could finish my sentence, he ripped his shirt over his head, and I stood face to face with a very gorgeous, very shirtless, Jax. His chest was smooth, a perfect crease leading down his center, dividing an impressive six-pack that narrowed in a v at the waistline of his jeans. His entire body glistened, damp with the rain that soaked through his shirt. “Uh. Um. Here.” I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I shoved the shirt toward him. I quickly turned my head to prevent myself from staring, or worse still, drooling. I waited until I saw him pull the other shirt over his head out of the corner of my eye before I allowed my gaze to return to him, looking unfairly sexy in my shirt. I cleared my throat as he placed the wet garment in my waiting hand.
“I had my doubts, but you were right.” Jax looked down at the shirt. “This is exactly the size I would buy. At least now I know how cute you’re gonna look if you borrow my T-shirts.” He said it so casually that if I hadn’t already been hanging on to his every word, I might have missed it.
The laugh that escaped my mouth was so high pitched, it didn’t even sound like it belonged to me. My fingers and toes tingled as I looked down at my feet, unable to maintain eye contact with him. “Told you,” I mumbled almost unintelligibly.
“Aerosmith is one of my favorites.”
“Mine, too. I love anything Steven Tyler does.” I stepped forward to make my way out of the closet, but he didn’t move. “I should go put your shirt in the dryer and change.”
