Page 51 of Chasin’s Surrender

“I’m naked,” she scoffed.

“I’m looking at you, woman, and you’re not naked.”

“My face is.”

Christ.

Not this again.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I can’t—”

“Do you honestly think I give a shit if you’re wearing makeup?”

“This isn’t about you, Chasin, it’s about me and I don’t—”

“Jesus, God, seriously. You gotta know you’re a beautiful woman and it’s not because of that shit you put on your face. I don’t get women, never will, so I’ve given up trying. All I can tell you is, I’m looking right at you and you don’t look any different than you do with that shit painted on.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re single,” she shot back. “You should put some effort into getting women.”

Never mind. Chasin had lost interest in the topic.

“Whatever. Stay up there, makeup-free, and by yourself.”

Chasin turned to find Genevieve staring at him. She was also smiling.

“Told you so.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled again, and Genevieve erupted into laughter.

Hearing that, Chasin knew it was worth the irritating and pointless conversation he’d had with Bobby. He planted his ass on the couch as he heard Bobby coming down the stairs. His gaze went to a disgruntled Bobby then back to Genevieve, who was twisting her lips to stop from laughing again. He winked and smiled.

“Whatever,” she parroted, and this time it was his amusement that filled the room.

Heat seared straight through him as Genevieve’s eyes stayed locked to his even though her fingers were strumming her guitar.

She waited until his laughter stopped before she started singing Bob Seger’s “Night Moves.”

He was mesmerized.

Completely transfixed.

When she finished Seger, she took a moment to adjust her ass on the seat, but her fingers never stopped moving on the strings. And like the professional she was, the transition into Fleetwood Mac’s, “Dreams” was seamless.

Genevieve started humming the beginning of the song and her eyes drifted closed as she got lost in the music. Hell, Chasin was so lost in it he barely registered Bobby nudging him with her knee from beside him.

“You’re in for a treat. This is one of Viv’s favorites,” she whispered.

Fuck, he was already captivated and didn’t think she could top Seger.

Three seconds later, goose bumps rose on his arms and he realized he was wrong—she could top Seger. Not only top it—, but fuck him, he loved Stevie Nicks’ breathy voice—but he thought Genevieve’s was better. Out-of-the-park better.

And there Chasin sat, listening to a song that was written by Stevie Nicks as a ‘fuck you’ to her man as they were breaking up. Yet, he was so enthralled by her voice, it was soul-changing.

The song took on a new meaning.

When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know.