Chapter Seven
By the time Thursday night of the following week rolled around, they’d settled into a nice routine. Gunnar would help her prepare dinner. They’d enjoy a glass of wine on the patio, maybe help their daughters with homework, and watch some TV.
They’d sit next to each other on the couch. His thigh or arm would brush hers from time to time, but he hadn’t tried to kiss her again and she was getting antsy wondering when or if it would happen.
She knew he was trying to respect her boundaries, but the sexual tension was so thick she could feel it every time he walked into the room.
“Hey, Mom,” Ramsey said, running downstairs with her cell phone clutched in her hand. “Can me and Keegan spend the night at Jordan’s house tomorrow night?”
Jordan had a sister Keegan’s age and she’d become one of Ramsey’s closest friends. “Um, are their parents going to be there?”
Ramsey rolled her eyes. “Of course.”
“No boys or alcohol, right?” Gianna asked, reaching for a handful of pretzels from the bowl Gunnar held.
“No, Mom,” she said, sounding annoyed. “So, can we go?”
“Fine, but you know I will be texting Jordan’s mom to make sure everything you just told me is true, right?”
“Whatever.”
Gianna watched her run back up the stairs as she muttered, “Teenagers.”
Gunnar laughed. “I love watching the way you handle them. Just so you know, I’m taking notes.”
Gunnar had always been the fun one while she’d been the disciplinarian. “You can’t become the bad cop,” she said, smiling at him. “There can only be one of those. We have to complement each other, after all.”
“I think we do complement each other.”
Damn. He was looking at her like he wanted to devour her again and she was thirty seconds away from overturning that bowl and hopping on his lap. “You do, huh?”
“In. Every. Way.”
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes fixed on her heaving chest. She was braless, with an oversized sweatshirt that slipped off one shoulder.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered. “It could be dangerous.”
“I want to kiss you.”
She smiled. “I want you to kiss me. But we can’t. The girls are upstairs. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea about us.”
He sighed. “We’ll have the whole house to ourselves tomorrow night though.”
“Indeed we will.” It wasn’t exactly an invitation, but it might as well have been. Needing to change the subject, she said, “That song you were working on when I came in sounded amazing. Have you been getting a lot of work done since you’ve been here?”
“It’s crazy,” he said, reaching for the remote to lower the volume. “I can’t believe how easy the writing’s been. It’s like I flipped a switch and I’m back in the zone.”
“That must feel good.”
“It does.” He paused, looking hesitant. “Still, I’m not sure I want to tour to promote a new album anytime soon.”
“How would your label feel about that?” she asked, knowing the answer even before she posed the question.
“They wouldn’t like it, but screw ’em. I’ve paid my dues. It’s time I started calling some of my own shots. And if they won’t let me, I could always start my own label.”
“Your own label?” she echoed, feeling that familiar knot of tension in her stomach. That sounded like a lot of work, which meant he wasn’t tired of the grind as she’d originally hoped. He was just looking for a new challenge.
“It wouldn’t be the worst idea, would it?” Before she could respond, he said, “You know, these new songs I’ve been writing are different from anything I’ve ever written before. More ballads. Love songs, I guess.”
