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“You miss them?”
I paused a moment before answering. “I just saw them. I was in Scotland two weeks ago.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you go back there often?”
Fuck no. I avoided it like the plague. That was only the second time I’d been back in six years and I’d only gone because I had to in order to renew my visa. I’d counted down every torturous day until I got out of there.
I knew my mum missed me and that made me feel bad about staying away. My father was a silent, stoic bastard, so who knew if he cared? I’d drifted apart from my brothers so visiting with them had felt strained and awkward.
Just being back in Scotland had been even more horrible this time than the last which was saying something. No one in Scotland had heard of Ghost Parker the first time, but afterOkay Babehad put us on the map worldwide, my local celebrity status had grown exponentially. Once it got out that I was back in town, I was hounded non-stop and the local press had a field day picking up the story about when my fiancee died. All the old shit was drudged up again.
I hated being there. It had stirred up bad memories. Things I wasn’t ready to deal with. Even my old recurring nightmares had started up again. I’d felt trapped back home in Scotland and I didn’t have my music to keep me grounded or my bandmates to keep me sane.
I had been sucked right back into the past. Drenched in guilt and crushing anger. Reliving the pain and heartbreak. Drowning in a swirl of confusion mixed in with sorrow and a hefty dose of anxiety.
After being in Scotland for a week, I’d tried to sneak into the local pub to avoid the fans and local press and drown my sorrows, but peace eluded me even there. I’d run into an old mate. I hadn’t seen him in six years. He tried to talk to me, but I blew him off and walked right back out the door. He was once my best mate, but now the sight of him made me physically sick.
When I finally returned to L.A., I was still mired down by my past. I couldn’t shake it. I was untethered. Restless and bored. I had too much time on my hands while Ghost Parker was on break. And then I ran into Summer. She’d lit up something inside me. I was no longer stewing in the past.
Summer was waiting for my response, so I shook off my thoughts of Scotland and forced myself to recall what she’d asked: Do you go back there often?
“I don’t get the chance to go back that much.” That sounded reasonable. “Is this third degree finished yet?”
“I’ve got one more.” She looked like she had about a hundred more questions, but I guess she could see that I was finished. “Do you play the bagpipes?”
The sassy lass was mocking me and she looked quite proud of herself. A mischievous smile slowly lit her face even while she fought to contain it. Lord, she was beautiful. She was like a burst of sunshine on a cloudy day. She was goodness, happiness, and joy all rolled up into one feisty little package.
What the hell was wrong with me? I felt like a fool reciting poetry in my head to her beauty. At any moment, I might break into a song with lyrics as equally stupid asOkay Babe, but hell, maybe we’d have another mega-hit on our hands.
I smiled slyly at her cheeky bagpipe question. “I have, but I don’t. I’m more of a guitar man.”
“Guitar, hmmm. Bagpipes are so much sexier.” The corner of her lips twitched upward. “So, what do you want to know about me?”
Right now, I wanted to know what she looked like naked, but I kept that to myself. Beyond that, I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head to ask her. I was stumped.
I’d studiously avoided getting to know any woman for years. I hadn’t gone on a date with a woman — no dinners, no movies, no solo time together unless we were naked — since I was in school. For what I wanted from a woman, no-strings raunchy sex, I didn’t have to talk to them. Or care about them.
And no lass had asked any questions about me that didn’t have to do with the band. After years of not caring, I’d simply forgotten how to converse with a lass like a normal person.
The silence, while I scrambled to think of what to ask, was getting uncomfortable, so I quickly decided a variation on the same questions she asked me would have to do. “Where did you grow up? Your mum mentioned Kentucky, I think?”
“That’s right. I was born and raised in southern Kentucky. My parents still live there in the same house I grew up in. I went to the University of Kentucky for college where I was a Business, Management, and Marketing major and graduated cum laude. I was president of Theta Kappa Delta sorority senior year and won Sorority Woman of the Year...”
Her answer was nowhere near as succinct as mine. In fact, she was still listing all the philanthropic organizations, women’s clubs, and historic preservation societies she had been a member of in Kentucky. I was listening to every word she spoke. There was something about the sexy southern drawl that was starting to blend naturally into her speech that had me mesmerized. I wondered what she’d think if she knew her innocent and prim answer in that smooth-as-honey, lilting accent had my dick as hard as steel once again imagining doing sexy things with her.
“...treasurer of the Jewels of Southern Central Kentucky.”
I shifted in my seat, trying to adjust myself discreetly, as I asked the next question. “What made you leave for L.A.?”
She smiled widely, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “A fantastic job opportunity came up.” Her smile was as fake as her answer.
“At the makeup factory, was it?”
The lines around her mouth tightened. “At an international cosmetics company, yes.”
I waited, but she didn’t add any more details. It was curious that she didn’t expound on her job as she had about everything back home in Kentucky.
“Where do you live now?”
