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“That… Jesus, Jamie. That was so much more than I thought it would be.”
“That’s lovely. What a brilliant compliment,” I deadpanned.
“I meant it as one. It was intense. Real.”
I sighed. “It is.”
Too bloody real.
Chapter Eighteen
KILLIAN
Something warm was sitting on my chest. Warm and…purring? I blinked open my eyes to see the little orange tabby staring me down from where he was curled up right in the center of my chest.
“Morning to you, too, little fella.”
Bringing my hand up, I gently stroked him between his ears. He closed his eyes, his head chasing the touch every time I brought my fingers close. I was on the couch, which meant I had finally passed the fuck out last night. Jameson must’ve put a blanket over me at some point. That made my heart swell. It was a tender gesture, simple and caring.
The little cat began kneading my shirt with his—ouch—very sharp claws. “Okay, that’s enough. Thank you for being my little alarm clock, but I am not interested in being your pin cushion.”
Holding him to me, I sat up and then carefully deposited the furball on the couch. My neck was stiff from sleeping here instead of my bed, and as I stood and stretched, the symphony of pops and cracks that followed proved my point. I was too old to sleep on a damn couch.
My songwriting book lay open on the coffee table, lyrics and chord changes scrawled across the paper, my handwriting getting sloppier and sloppier the more tired I’d become. Jamie and I had worked into the wee hours of the morning, putting another two songs on paper. My phone was right next to the notebook, and I grinned as I remembered our latest number, knowing how fucking good it was deep in my bones. We’d come to an understanding, him and I, that we were too good together not to take this beyond co-writing a few songs or even an album. Last night fueled by a little too much whiskey and a lot of courage, we’d mutually agreed that Lorde and Wilde would be our new adventure. We were in it for the long haul. I honestly thought we could go the distance. Build something powerful. Knowing he wanted this just as much as me eased some of my stress.
I wasn’t a solo act, and I never had been. Shit, I was hardly even a front man. I might have been deemed that because I was the lead singer of Big Sky, but it wasn’t a one-man show. I’d never wanted it to be. Now I had a partner. Someone I could see writing songs with until we retired.
I pressed play on the recording we made last night, a tingle of excitement shooting down my spine as Jameson’s low, smoky voice came over the speaker, counting us off. As I listened, I shuffled into the kitchen and got a pot of coffee brewing. It was only eight am, and we’d been at it for a long time last night, so I didn’t know if Jamie was gonna get up any time soon. But my stomach was grumbling, and I needed a caffeine injection as soon as possible.
I set about making pancakes, knowing those would heat up easily, no matter what time he woke. The coffee pot beeped, letting me know it had done its job like the good boy it was. Before I did anything else, I collected two mugs and set Jamie’s on the counter. Pouring myself a full cup, I inhaled the rich scent and took a sip.
“Good morning, you beautiful, beautiful beast, you.”
Was I making love to my coffee? Yes, I was, and I didn’t give a damn.
I sang along with the music playing on my phone as I flipped pancake after pancake and moved the bacon around from its place in the frying pan to keep it from burning. That was when I felt him. Jamie was right behind me, his tall frame pressed against my back, one hand on my waist, and his lips brushing my ear.
I desperately tried to keep my cool as he murmured, “Good morning. Did you sleep okay?”
My fucking god. I’d been worried that Jamie had changed his mind about us crossing the line after his concert at The Silver Spur two nights ago. We’d sort of danced around the fact that everything had changed, neither of us really talking about it and instead focusing on work. Avoidance, the healthiest of tactics, right?
“I’ve slept better,” I admitted reaching out and turning off the burners after plopping the last pancake on the plate next to me.
I turned to face him, the stubble on his jaw longer, giving him a roguish pirate-like appearance I really liked.
“I’m sorry I passed out.”
He shrugged, backing away and leaning against the counter behind him. “It was kind of adorable, actually. One moment you were prattling on about something you thought would make a good bridge, then the next, it was off to dreamland for you.”
I chuckled. “That’s usually how it happens. I go until I can’t hold myself up anymore.”
“You could have told me you were tired.”
“No way. I didn’t want to miss a minute. We were making magic.”
Affection flashed in his eyes, which only served to cause my heart to thump wildly.
“I tried to wake you and take you to bed.”
