Page 16 of First Moon

Oscar rubbed against my bare legs and, without thinking, I picked him up for a snuggle. He didn’t protest, which surprised me. Instead, he started purring.

“Aren’t you the sweetest?” I said into his ear, before putting him back on the floor.

“He’s really friendly for a cat,” Jack said. “No one knows why.”

We climbed the wide staircase, the dark wood banister polished smooth under my hand.

Jack showed me three guest rooms, each with its own personality. One had a brass bed, white quilts, and navy ticking stripe pillows. One had twin beds under the eaves, plaid blankets folded at the foot, and a window seat overlooking the pool. The third was softer, with pale blue walls, gauzy curtains, and a little writing desk positioned in front of the window.

“Who stays here?” I asked.

“Mostly nobody.”

“Nobody?”

“My band sometimes. Luci when I can convince her to stop working long enough to visit. Rhett, if he’s too tired to drive home after we’ve been working late. My mom once in a while. She doesn’t stay with me often, though. Says the house is too big. Isn’t that funny? After all those years in a small trailer, I’d have thought she’d welcome space.”

“Small spaces make her feel safe,” I said. “I understand that. Less chance for chaos.”

“That’s the second time you’ve used the word chaos tonight.”

“I want you to understand up front what it’s like to be with me,” I said, only half joking.

We passed a closed door at the end of the hall, and he kept walking.

“What’s in there?” I asked.

“My room.”

“I don’t get to see it?”

He glanced at me, something warm and wicked glinting in his eyes. “You asked for a tour of the house, not a test of my self-control.”

Heat rushed my cheeks. “Very gentlemanly of you.”

“I’m trying.”

“Are you succeeding?”

“By the skin of my teeth. Which means we better head downstairs before it gets ugly up here.”

I laughed. “I doubt it would be ugly. Whatever happened in there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “There’s one more room. Downstairs.”

He led me back down the staircase, across the great room, and into a short hallway I hadn’t noticed before. At the end of it were two old sliding doors, darker than the rest of the house, the wood nicked and scarred in a way that made me think they hadn’t come from any showroom.

“These are vintage, right?” I asked, touching one with my fingertips.

“Salvaged from a grange outside Memphis. Place was being torn down.”

“Why’d you want them?”

“Because there were dances in that grange and music that brought people together. I thought it was a good omen for my music room.”

Lord, this man.

He slid one door open, and I stepped into a room that felt so familiar I had a moment of déjà vu.