The smile she gave me was coy. Slightly shy. “I do. You’ll have to settle for a picture, though, because mine isn’t as… accessible as yours.”
What. The. Fuck.
“Are we talking about a foot and ankle situation, or…” I couldn’t help but drag my eyes along her skin, looking for any hint of ink and cataloguing all the parts of her that were covered.
Again, Cleo blushed. “Definitelyor.”
And there went my dick, rising from half-mast to fully stiff. Honestly, how was I supposed to make it back to my mom and dad like this? Talk about freaking awkward. This was horrible. All I could do was wonder where it was, what it looked like, and how she would shiver if I ran my tongue along the inked lines.
Christ. Get it together, Grady. You can’t be out here lusting after your ex-girlfriend like this. Especially when you haven’t seen or talked to her in over four years.
No matter what I told myself, it didn’t work. It’d been too damn long since I had a woman in my bed. After the breakup, I’d drowned myself in anything that could numb the pain, even if only for a moment or two. It wasn’t until Liv told me that shit was going to get me a one-way ticket to a fatherhood that I straightened my shit out.
I still had company from time to time, but I was much more careful with my choices and made sure no matter what… I never had a one-night stand while on tour.
“Okay, fuck it,” I said, taking a breath and lifting the hem of my shirt to reveal the artwork along my ribs. It was of two birds, one perched alone in a cage while the other took flight. Flowers bloomed along the vines coiled around the bars while the trapped bird sang its mournful lament.
It was the story of us. While most people would likely think of me as the one running away, I was, in fact, the one trapped because a life without her love was no life at all.
Cleo reached out the lines, and I held my breath, scared I would spook her if I moved at all. When she finished, she looked up at me through thick lashes. I expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“Thank you,” I said, a little hoarse, letting my shirt fall. “So, a deal’s a deal. Let’s see yours now.”
She straightened up, fidgeting with her the drink in her hands. “Can I see you again?”
“Is it a requirement of the deal? Don’t you have a picture?” Not that I was opposed to the idea of seeing her again. In fact, I wanted to. And then I wanted to trace her own tattoo, just as she had mine. I wanted her to feel the torture of having me trace her skin and not be able to act on it.
Cleo smiled, but it was a nervous smile. “No, it’s just I really think I want to see you again. It’s been so long,” she looked down, biting her lip, “and this has been really nice.”
“Just nice?”
“More than nice,” she murmured. “So, say yes. Say I can see you again, and?—”
Just then, a tall man in jeans and a polo came up and draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her to his side. He looked about our age, maybe a year or two older, with dark brown hair tucked beneath a Black Springs Ranch ball cap. “Thought I lost you.”
“No, sorry. I got caught up talking to an old friend,” she said, stumbling over the last word. “Thomas, this is Grady. Grady, meet Thomas.” I could see how much he wanted her by the way he looked me up and down, like I was his competition, and he needed to squash me. “Thomas is visiting this weekend from Austin.”
“Grady, huh?” he said, sticking out his other hand for a shake. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Was this her new boyfriend? Jesus, what a douche. What the hell did she see in him? “Thomas, was it?” I asked, squeezing his hand. “Funny. I can’t say the same about you. How are you liking Ashwood?”
Thomas snapped his mouth shut, grinding his molars together before finally speaking. “It’s been great. I love small towns like this. Reminds me of home back in Montana. And Cleo’s parents have been so accommodating. Ruby and Doug have been great hosts.”
Not only did he have his arm around her, but he was also staying at her place? At the ranch?
“That’s great,” I replied.
Silence stretched before Cleo pried herself from under his grip. “Is your phone number still the same?” she asked.
I nodded once, keeping my gaze locked on hers. Even though no words were spoken, no promises uttered, I still felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. And it was my own fault. I had no one to blame but myself, because I was delusional enough to think maybe her wanting to meet up meant we would eventually get back together.
It had been a shit week on top of this, so I knew I was being irrational, but my mom had fucking cancer, and Cleo had a fucking boyfriend. I had what? A music career. Sure, it was great and all, but nothing was promised. Not even the big contract with Hartstrings. There were always better artists out there. Even if I met every parameter Liv’s uncle wanted to see, there was always better talent out there. Someone could come in and blow them away, more than I ever could, and then where would I be?
“Well, I probably better get new drinks. I’m sure Mom is wondering where I’ve been.” I pointed behind me to the concession stand. “It was good seeing you,” I mumbled.
I’d only taken two steps before I felt Cleo’s hand on my wrist, tugging me gently back. I turned as her body collided with my own. She wrapped her arms around my middle, hugging me so goddamn tightly it felt like she was trying to hold me together. Maybe she was, but I had to remember it wouldn’t last. She would let go, and then I’d be left with all these emotions I didn’t know what to do with.
“I’m here if you need anything,” she said, pressing her face into my chest. “My number is the same, too. I’ll text you tonight. We can grab dinner or something.”
