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She was too close to him, someone she’d just met, and he certainly didn’t have the advantage of having fantasized about her for ten years, so she sat back in her seat. “What does it mean to you?” But God, the man smelled good. Clean clothes, fresh mountain air, and something woodsy with a hint of campfire.
He gave the slightest grin. “It means we always have a choice.”
Of course, she immediately thought of his photography. She wanted to say, See? You do have a choice. “I like that.” Now, this is the man who lives in Wild Wolff Village, with his stacks of books and pictures of his dogs. A slow spin of excitement started swirling in her chest. Her fingertip slowly skimmed up his arm to the paper airplane tattoo. “And this one?”
He shivered, giving her a curious look. “I’m a homebody. I don’t like travel. So, when I look at this, it reminds me that, since it’s part of the job, I should have fun with it.”
“Oh, that’s really good.” Her gaze flicked up to him, and the connection zapped her heart. He looked at her so intently, like he was trying to see beneath the surface, to figure out who she really was. And, boy, did she want him to know. “I like it a lot.” She wondered what compelled him to pursue a career that didn’t fit. The music, the lyrics…that was all him. But the lifestyle seemed to take too great a toll. “Can I see this one?” She gestured to the back of his neck.
“Sure.”
Sifting through his silky hair, she caressed the ink at the back of his neck.
Goosebumps sprung out on his arms, and he shifted away.
“I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Well, sure. A little. I just met you.”
Says the guy who had two women climbing him like a jungle gym last night.
But they were invited into his pleasure palace. I work for him. Big difference. “Can you tell me what it is?”
He relaxed and lifted his hair. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I was just surprised. Go ahead.”
She traced the skyline. “Is it New York?”
“It’s Vegas. It’s where we’re from.”
See?He said it’s where we’re from. Family means everything to him.
Happiness burbled inside her like the water in the electric kettle. She couldn’t believe it. I get to see the real Van Claybourne. She doubted many people ever did. “I didn’t know that. It’s not in your bio.”
He shifted back around, all that openness shuttering. “Well, we moved around a lot, but that’s where we were living when we were discovered.” Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about his past.
Which only elevated it to the number one thing she wanted to talk about.
But she couldn’t, so she pulled out her phone and scrolled through the list. “Other than tea, is there anything else we need to pick up?”
“Just a few groceries.”
“I guess I’ve never given it much thought, but I assumed the venues fed you, and you stopped for fast food on the highway.”
“We learned early on what works and what doesn’t. Tours are grueling, and we need to feel our best if we’re going to enjoy them. Besides, I prefer to cook.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
He cut her a look. What does that mean?
“I cleaned your kitchen.”
“Right. Of course.” He went back to his phone, noticeably uncomfortable.
He either thinks I’m some kind of stalker, or he’s embarrassed about what I might have seen in his house.
Newsflash: I was totally impressed with everything I saw.
But in case he thought she was creeping on him, she said, “You know I was literally on the shuttle going home when I saw Scat fussing with the rearview mirror, right? I figured it was a tour bus, but there’s no way I could have known whose it was.”
