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Sydney perches on the arm of a leather club chair. “He’s a great friend of Daddy’s.”
I stare at her ruby lips as she smiles at me. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you want your name on one of these plaques?”
She shrugs and the thin strap of her dress slips from her shoulder. “I enjoy writing songs more. I don’t think I want the headache fame brings.”
I step closer and ease the strap back into place. “You have that star quality.”
“Do I?” She rises, but not before I see the goosebumps my touch gave her. “Do you say this to all the women?”
“Never. I never lie about talent.” Which is the truth.
“Is it true you signed Trinity?”
I rub my jaw. Trinity is the biggest diva in the music industry right now. The hell she put her ex through has never been lost on me. “Yes, I did.”
“Do you believe the story between her and her ex-boyfriend?”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure. He moved to Alaska, I heard.”
“I like his shark movies.”
I laugh. “I’ve never seen them.”
“They’re god-awful, but funny.”
“Maybe we’ll watch them together one night.”
“Maybe.”
“We can cuddle close,” I say, inching closer.
She places her hand between us, resting it on my chest. “Did you want to see the rest of the place?”
“Yeah, I’d like to see your bedroom. And not for clandestine purposes.” Technically, that’s not a lie, because my curiosity about her is outweighing my need to rip that dress off her tempting curves.
She laughs, moving away from me. “Ok, but no judging.”
“Promise.”
I follow her back through the house and up the grand staircase that leads to the second floor. When we step inside her old bedroom, it’s like I’m catapulted to a different time.
“Nothing that special,” she says, guiding me into her room.
Pfft. Everything is special. The platform bed with a pink quilt she cuddled under, the bay window full of white pillows where she probably sat and stared out at the landscape a time or two. On the yellow wall by the door are notches marking her growth. This room is full of history, and I want to learn it all. I study everything, trying to get clues about the woman in front of me.
I cross to the dresser and glance at a framed picture. Sydney’s probably eleven or twelve, standing next to a black and white pony.
“That’s when we first got Oreo,” she says, coming to stand next to me.
I gaze at the picture where she’s beaming at whoever held the camera. “You look so happy here.”
“I was happy. I love that horse.”
“Where is the horse now?” I don’t want to bring up a sensitive subject if the horse is no longer with us, but I felt I had to ask.
“He’s in the barn. We’ll go there after the house.”
I smile. “Lead the way.”
We continue moving throughout their home, and I’m in awe of how she grew up. All the pictures of her with her family show a stable upbringing filled with happy times. Much different from the way I grew up, that’s for sure. I can tell she’s Brock’s pride and joy. It’s evidenced by the shrine of photos he has of his daughter in every stage of her life.
When we step outside to check out the property before dinner, I keep close as we amble across the sun-scorched grass toward a red barn. “What was it like growing up here?”
She slows down a bit. “It was great.”
“Really?” I give her a half-grin. “Why don’t I believe you?”
She stops walking, her mouth parted just a bit to take my breath away. What I wouldn’t give right now to touch those lips of hers with mine. “No, really, it was great. But… being here makes me miss my mother.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m an idiot for not making the connection of this ranch to sad feelings because she told me her mother died here and she misses her more than anything.
I reach out, wanting to touch her in some small way. “Want a hug?” I graze my fingers down her forearm.
She watches the movement. “You don’t seem like a hugger.”
“Are you kidding? I’m an award-winning hugger. I’ve given some of the best hugs around.”
She raises a skeptical brow, but her eyes twinkle with laughter. “Really? Who would ever give an award for that?”
I smile, happy that I’ve cheered her up. “You will, after I’ve given you the hug.” I open my arms, hoping more than anything she accepts my offer.
She flies into my chest, like she needs this hug more than anything. I wrap my arms around her, holding her a second longer than I probably should, breathing her in. I’d like to soothe her in any way possible, but she steps away and I shove my hands deep in my pockets, so touching her more won’t tempt me.
