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Too often, he was tense and stressed, always working on solving problems so me and the guys could be the stars and do our thing. But he couldn’t keep up that pace all the time.
The industry required you to give a hundred and fifty percent, and even then, there were never really vacations or time off.
You were always focused on the next album, the next tour, the next promo.
The next, the next, the next.
And musicians weren’t the only ones in danger of burning out.
“I’ll agree to record the song with you. But you need to give me something in return,” he replied.
“Anything.”
“We have to tell Greg about us.”
I shook my head. “He’s going to let you go since you violated the terms of your contract.”
“Maybe, maybe not. He’s been known to bend the rules himself.”
“You mean, he’s had relationships with musicians on his roster?”
Van sighed and nodded. “I don’t like to deal in rumors, but sometimes these things have truth to them. I only know this because of a claim made by one of his ex-wives.”
“No surprise there. Most people in this business hook up with each other. I’ve probably slept with half the guys on our tour roster. And, of course, there are people you meet at music awards and other events, on the road—”
“Stop,” Van growled. “Bad enough, I have a good imagination.”
I chuckled and tightened my hold on him. “Is it wrong that I find your jealousy hot as hell?”
“I’m in so much fucking trouble,” Van admitted and shook his head. “So, are we telling Greg?”
“Let’s wait until the new year. We’re not in the studio or on tour for the next two months. Let’s give ourselves some time together. Just us. Then, before we head back to work in January, we can tell him and go public and deal with all the media craziness.”
“Maybe you’ll be sick of me by then,” Van teased.
“Maybe you should stick to writing songs and not jokes,” I returned.
Sick of him? Please. He didn’t know it yet, but I would never let him go.
Then, I silenced any more of his insane thinking by kissing him.
And using a lot of tongue to get my point across.
“What are your plans when you return to Nashville?” he asked when I finally let him take a breath of air.
I was not expecting that question. Then, an idea occurred.
“I was going to stay in town for a few weeks and then go see my family in Rhode Island for Thanksgiving. But I think I’d like to go home earlier. Come with me.”
His body jolted. “Really?”
“Yeah. We can stay at my cottage.”
He smiled. “I love that place. You can see the ocean from every room, and there’s no one around for miles.”
“Exactly. It’s quiet, peaceful, private. I had a studio built this year at the back of the property beside the pool. It’s got these huge skylights. At night, when it’s clear, you can see all the stars in the sky. It’s amazing. We can work on new songs and go for long walks on the beach and, most importantly, fuck under those stars.”
“There’s only one star I want to get under,” Van teased, and I gave him a playful bite on the neck.
