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“Now?” This was too good to be true.
“Now.”
He wasted no time setting his guitar on the chair by the window and then yanked the blankets off her lap.
“With you, Pres, I’m always willing.” He kissed her and she tasted like coffee. “This shirt.” He feathered his fingertips beneath the hem and touched her bare stomach. “It’s hot.”
“You’re crazy.” She laughed.
He was. And his not being able to stay away from her was proof. He didn’t care what she thought about him, just so long as she accepted him in her bed.
She did, and he spent the next hour and a half doling out part two of his apology.
Friday arrived. Presley tore the tags off the little black dress she’d purchased. It was short and classy, but also comfortable. She paired it with black high heels, also new, and packed a small bag like Cash had suggested. The bag contained her swimsuit, beach towel, a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He assured her the water would be warm enough to dip into if she wanted to do so, and if she didn’t want to do so while naked, to bring a suit. She didn’t plan on climbing into the water, but she would rather be prepared. When it came to Cash, she’d surprised herself a few times already. She simply hadn’t expected to enjoy him quite as much as she had. Lately, every time she was around him, naked was exactly how she’d ended up.
After he’d serenaded her in her room two days ago, they’d had another round and a half of fantastic sex. They didn’t argue when they were done either, which was a nice change of pace. What followed had been a “normal” day, and he’d encouraged her to ask the questions she’d asked the night before. She did, tentatively, but he’d answered without much fuss.
Yesterday they’d sat on the dock and wrote. Cash, guitar in his lap, humming and strumming and occasionally jotting down words into a spiral-bound notebook that had seen better days. There were paper shreds stuck in a badly bent coil and she’d teased him, asking if that was the same notebook from when he went to FSU. That’d earned her a low laugh and a kiss, which she returned without argument.
Tonight was the formal affair at Mags Dumond’s house, and would include her first boat ride since she’d arrived. She was ready for a night off, but acutely aware that tonight wasn’t a night “off” at all. Her article was coming along, but she still needed some key information so she could end it with a bang.
As luck would have it, Hannah Banks and Cash Sutherland wouldn’t be country music’s only superstars in attendance. A source had confided that Carla Strouse would be there—as in Cash’s ex. That source was Hallie, who hadn’t a clue what Presley was up to and if Pres had her way, never would. Alas, when she published her article, everyone would know that she’d been seeking the truth to the inspiration behind Cash’s hit song. She hoped Hallie and her sister, Hannah, Cash and the rest of the Sutherlands could forgive her for it someday.
“Slip out of those shoes,” Cash said as she came downstairs.
She looked down at her black high heels. “Why?”
“We’re taking the boat to the party. It’ll be easier for you to navigate the docks without three-inch heels.” By the time he finished talking, he was standing in front of her and smiling. “Four inches,” he corrected, moving her hair away from her face to tuck it behind her ear. “Like you this tall.”
“Thanks.”
He kissed her. She lingered. When he released her lips, brushing her jaw with his thumb, she somewhat dazedly slipped out of her shoes and into the flip-flops she’d stowed in her bag.
On his deluxe pontoon boat—which was the fanciest pontoon she’d ever set foot on—she sat on one of the cream-colored vinyl seats and admired the shine glinting off every surface. How did he keep it this pristine?
He drove slowly since there were several boats dotting the water and they were in a “no wake” zone. The wind was at a minimum, so she wouldn’t have to fix her hair when they arrived at Mags Dumond’s mansion.
They passed other giant houses on the water, some towering with multiple balconies, others low and sprawling, partially hidden by thick, green-leaved trees.
“Come drive,” Cash invited, holding out a hand.
“Really?”
“I’m insured.”
“You’re hilarious.” She gave him a playful slap on the arm as he pulled her onto his lap. She took the wheel, and he moved her other hand to the throttle, murmuring instructions into her ear. Those instructions turned into praise for how good she smelled and then advanced to kisses on the side of her neck. By the time she closed her eyes, he teasingly reminded her she was going to wreck them into the rocks.
A short while later they arrived at Mags’s lakefront mansion and docked in one of the few available spots left. She carried her shoes in one hand, leaving her boat gear on the pontoon, and walked barefoot up the dock. By the time they reached the walkway cutting through a grass-covered hill, her jaw was on the ground. She toed on her shoes, holding on to Cash for purchase, while watching many, many well-dressed people file into the massive house.
“Let’s get this over with.” His tone was hilariously bored. As if the fanciest, most well-attended party in town was nothing more than a nuisance.
Her stomach jumped as she thought about speaking to Cash’s ex-girlfriend. Tonight might be the night Presley found out if Carla was the woman fueling the sentiment behind his hit song.
Presley told herself she was simply satisfying her own curiosity, but that was a lie. She would have to write about what she learned tonight. Uncovering secrets was part of her job—Delilah had made that clear. And uncovering one this big would not only win her the contest at work, but also catapult her career and make her travel dreams come true.
She’d share what was in the article with Cash before she published it, though. She wasn’t a monster. But she would publish it. And if he couldn’t understand the reasons behind why she needed to, then he’d never understood her at all.
