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“Wait,” I snapped. My entire body shook with adrenaline. “Please. Please don’t go anywhere.”
He looked back up at me in surprise. “But you’re Gentry Kane,” he breathed. “Gentry Kane the singer.”
I nodded, never once taking my eyes off him for fear he’d disappear in a puff of smoke. “I am. And I hurt my hand. I need your help.” I held out my hand with the brace on it as if that would convince him he was at the right address.
Curiosity appeared in his eyes as if I’d appealed to the professional, caring side of him. “But the name on the chart is Kevin Jones,” he said, disbelieving. After a beat, he shook his head and muttered, “I’m an idiot. Of course you would have used a fake name.”
I nodded. “I didn’t want the media to find out. Then they’d ask how it happened.”
“How did it happen?”
I opened my mouth to tell him but then quickly realized it had pretty much happened because of him. “Can I maybe tell you over a cup of coffee? I made some gingerbread, and I’d really like an excuse to eat some more of it.”
Winter still looked terrified. I wondered what would happen if he turned and bolted for the jeep to make a big escape. Would I run after him? Tackle him to the ground and beg him to stay?
Possibly.
“Please,” I added gently.
He swallowed and nodded. I opened the door and led him inside where some instrumental jazz was playing softly from my Bluetooth speakers and the fire was going strong in the big fireplace.
I walked to the kitchen area to make the coffee. “I have regular, decaf, or hazelnut. Any preference?”
“Hazelnut would be great, thanks.”
If only the coffee maker held the secrets to how to break this unbearable tension. I busied myself with the familiar process of working the Keurig.
“I saw you play in Denver,” he blurted. “After Christmas. At Sweet Splits.”
My heart thundered in my chest at the confirmation this was the man I thought it was. “Yes. I saw you.” I tried to sound calmer than I felt. “You were near the front.”
“You were amazing,” he said carefully, as if he was afraid of upsetting me by coming off as a fan instead of a professional healthcare worker. “Truly. I’m a fan.”
Then he let out a laugh. “That’s… well, it’s an understatement. But I promise not to let it interfere with my job.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to be just as careful. It was like a giant trembling balloon sat between us in the air and if either one of us moved or spoke too suddenly, it would burst with a loud, startling bang. “I mean, thank you for the compliment. I’m not worried about it interfering with the job.”
He moved over to the small wooden table and set his messenger bag down before taking a seat at one of the chairs and wiping his palms down his jean-clad thighs. “I’m sure you get crazy fans invading your privacy. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
I let out a soft laugh. “It takes some getting used to. But it’s also ironic. The ones who get in your face are the ones you don’t want, and the ones you do want are the ones who run away.”
I watched his reaction, but he didn’t seem to make the connection.
“I can’t imagine anyone running away,” he said before scraping his teeth along his top lip. “I mean… your music is so beautiful. I could listen to you sing until you ran out of breath.”
The coffee maker finished filling the second mug, and I took them to the table before returning to the counter for the gingerbread and some plates and forks. When we finally had everything we needed, I sat down in the chair opposite him and gestured for him to help himself to cream and sugar. “Are you from Aster Valley?” I asked politely as he doctored his coffee. “I’ve never been here before, but it’s beautiful.”
He finished his first sip and shook his head. “No. I’m from Colorado Springs. After I completed my hand therapy certification, I looked for a placement in a smaller town where the cost of living wasn’t as high as Denver or Boulder. I have tons of student loans to pay off, and I’m… and, uh, other things like that. The clinic attached to the hospital here was hiring, and it was a great opportunity for job security. I’m the only hand specialist on staff, so I get plenty of work.”
I wanted to know what he’d been about to add. He had student debt and what else?
“Do you still have family in Colorado Springs?” Yes, it was small talk, but I wanted to relax him a little. If I wanted any chance of getting him naked and slaking this crazy thirst of mine, he needed to let his guard down a little.
