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The guys don’t even know I do this, especially when it comes to writing.
Which brings me back to the current problem.
Wren was only curious, and I hate that I faulted her for that. The torn look on her face as I was snapping at her is framed perfectly in my mind, showing me exactly how bad my anger rises in unwarranted situations. All I had to do was ask her nicely to let me do this in private, but instead, I had to be rude and scare her off.
I place my guitar back into its case, then lean it against the stand sitting in the middle of the floor and quickly make my way down the hall. There’s no sign of her in here, and my lips tip into a frown – how badly did I scare her away? If she left the property, I would know about it since I’ve got the security cameras set up to detect motion. As soon as her tiny car would pull up to the gate, I’d know that she was leaving.
That means she’s still here, at least.
The relief I feel at knowing that is surprising, but I ignore it and continue my search for her red hair. I’m about to give up when I come back downstairs, but a flash of red from the patio catches my attention, and I saunter over to the sliding glass doors. She’s sitting at the edge of a lounge chair, head in her hands as she bounces her knee up and down frantically with nerves.
I wonder what she’s thinking and if it’s about me.
Before I can chicken out and leave her to her own devices, I push the door open and step out onto the patio with my shoulders slumped in defeat. “Uh, Wren?”
“Yeah?” She asks softly without looking over her shoulder at me.
“Look, I know what I did back there was shitty.”
Wren sighs. “Maybe, but I can understand why you got so upset. It was obviously a personal moment for you, and I interrupted that.” She looks at me, cocking her head to the side, and asks, “Does anyone else know about it?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s only something I do when I’m alone.”
She nods. “Is there a reason why you haven’t opened this door? You’re amazing, you know. I’m sure people would love to hear stuff from you.”
“Singing isn’t something I do,” I say truthfully. “Playing guitar, that’s easy, but letting my voice be heard is entirely different.”
“Do you have fears?”
For the first time since she got here, I don’t fight the question she asks me. “Yeah,” I say softly. “A lot of them.”
“What kind of fears?”
“Brent is the singer. He’s smarter, and the words I write are nothing compared to his. No one would be interested in hearing my stuff.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean people wouldn’t like what you write,” Wren says softly. “You and Brent are two very different people, with different emotions on the inside, you're bound to write differently than one another.”
She shrugs. “Who’s to say someone somewhere isn’t waiting to hear a song that resonates with them? Plenty of people feel the same way as you do, would want to be understood, and you could easily do that for them with a song.”
“It’s too risky,” I say, then shake my head. “Holding the guitar, that’s what I’m meant to be doing.”
“If it helps,” she says. “I’d listen to your music.”
That sends an emotion rolling through me that I don’t quite understand, but now isn’t the time to get into it.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Regardless of my reasons, I should’ve controlled my emotions, so I’m sorry for being so rude to you. I’m not used to someone being around all the time, and it’s going to take getting used to it.” I take tentative steps closer to her and give her a small smile. “Think you can be patient with me?”
She gives me a small smile. “I’m here to be patient with you, Ryker. The only way we get through this time together is if you’re comfortable enough to open up – no matter how long that takes.”
We stare into each other's eyes for a few moments longer than necessary, and the first thought that pops into my head is slamming my lips against hers – that should tell me enough to back away from her.
Yet, that’s not what I do. Instead, I take another step forward and decrease the distance between us. I expect her to back away, silently beg her to do it as we stare into each other’s eyes, but she only takes a deep and ragged breath without moving a single step.
When I take that final step, and her covered breasts brush against my chest, that’s all it takes for me to lean forward and claim her lips with my own. Everything about this kiss makes me feel alive and our surroundings fade around us as I deepen it.
She pushes her tongue into my parted mouth, making me groan low in my throat as I invite her in without a second thought.
We should stop, I know that. I could place my hands against her shoulders and push her away, but it’s not that easy. The way she lifts her hands and twists her fingers through my short hair before tugging on the strands only makes me crave her touch that much more. Her mouth is soft against mine, her body molding into me like the perfect puzzle piece missing in my life.
