My gaze lands on one of the pictures of Harmony and me in the homemade frame. It’s a photo of us lying on the pull-out couch. She’s lying on my arm as she holds the phone out to take a selfie of us.
It’s the same one I drew as a surprise present for later. I tucked it into her bag before she left. Normally I’m not so sappy, but it’s a really great photo. Our hair is messy, the sheet is rumpled, and we look happy. Truly happy.
She hasn’t mentioned the drawing, so I assume she hasn’t dug anything out of that bag yet. I know her wardrobe on tour is planned clear down to the casual stuff she wears when she’s not on stage.
She looks so beautiful it takes my breath away. My hand finds my erection under the blanket. It’s how I survive now that she’s gone. I could honestly jack off at least five times a day thinking about her, but I force myself to wait until bedtime.
My eyes close as I punish myself for letting her walk out my door. I know I had no choice, but sometimes I wonder if everything could be different.
I remember how she looked under me in the soft glow of the fireplace. Her soft blue eyes would turn smokey as she got close. Then she would close them as she rode out her orgasm. The one I gave her. It was a gift she let me in on every damn time.
The lazy smile as she lay in my arms after is emblazoned in my mind forever. Her responses to the things I said like muscle memory running through my body.
My efforts spill over my hand in an unsatisfactory end. This is never enough. I want to be with her. I want to roll my eyes at her movie selections, complain when she insists that I help her create some elementary school art project, and fall asleep withher soft breath on my neck. Quite simply, I’ve fallen in love with someone I can’t have, and it’s ripping me apart.
eighteen
HARMONY
“Hello?”I say, answering a phone call from an unknown caller. My phone is so locked down it’s rare I get unknown calls. It’s rare for me to get phone calls at all. Most people have to go through at least Robin to get a hold of me.
“Can you hear me?” the voice says from the other end. My heart starts racing.
“Beau? Oh my gosh, is it really you?” I feel every emotion at once it seems. My palms are sweaty, my cheeks heat, and I can’t get enough air. Who knew just a single voice could render me a basket case?
“Yeah, sweetheart, it is. Damn, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“But, how? Where are you?”
“At home. I caved to high-speed satellite internet. Didn’t know how much I needed it until now.” My stomach flutters. “How are you?”
“I’m so much better now,” I answer. I swear I can hear him smile over the phone. “What have you been doing? How’s Reacher? And Joe and Hoss? Tell me everything!” He laughs this time.
“Everyone is good. Reacher is still moping. Hang on, I’ll put you on speakerphone so he can hear you.” I hear the phone click.
“Reacher, sweet baby,” I purr. There’s a bark at the other end. The phone clicks back over.
“That’s enough from him. He’ll just hog your attention, and I want it all to myself.”
God, how does this man know exactly what to say? If I was there, I’d climb on his lap, rip all his clothes off and ride him like a tornado in a Kansas trailer park. I want to be with him so badly, it physically hurts.
“So, if you have fancy internet, can we video chat?” I have an idea, but I don’t want to propose it here in the middle of the band on the bus.
“We can. Any time you want, just let me know so I’m not outside working.”
“That means we can have—” I take a look around me. Most of the guys are in the back. Luke is sitting on one of the sofas, but he’s got his headphones on. “Video sex?” Beau laughs again.
“Sure. Do I get to role play?”
“Oooh, you have me intrigued.”
“Yeah, me too. I guess I’d better start working on that,” he says. “I should probably get back to work. I just wanted to let you know you can get a hold of me in the evenings now. I sort of miss your yammering.”
“Aww, I’ve started to grow on you,” I tease. “I miss you too, Beau,” I whisper before he ends the call.
“Is that grin from ear to ear because of that phone call?” Luke asks. “Wouldn’t be your mystery man from back home, would it?”
“Yeah,” I admit, moving to the sofa across from him. “It won’t last, but it’s nice to have someone for now.”
