“No.”
“You know you did.”
“Maybe.”
His lips twisted into a half grimace, half smile. “I figured. It was bad enough you were hurt. And afraid. But to make it about me… Fuck, I didn’t want to have anything to do with it.”
“I get it.”
“Do you?”
He was so wrecked about it, I couldn’t believe anything else. He had an ego and he loved the limelight on the stage. I wasn’t convinced he liked it when he was off the stage. Not after people had been so invasive today. The only thing I could do was take him at face value. “I believe you. Especially after today. You’re not really excited about people talking about you all the time.”
“No. Not really. I mean, I’m not going to lie. It’s exciting to get people to listen to my music. But this stuff?” He sighed. “This isn’t what I want every day.”
I rested my cheek against his chest. We stood like that for a few minutes. Laughter and the roll of wheels on the sandblasted concrete was an odd soundtrack. But they were good, normal sounds. Not the blanket silence of fear I’d been living with every time I had to travel around there.
And of course, it was Ian who gave me some of that normalcy again. A man who didn’t even know what the word meant lately.
I went on my toes and kissed the scruff on his chin. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For giving a shit.”
He tucked my hair behind my ear. “No worries in that regard.”
“Now let’s get us down on that beach for a little relaxation.” I took my bag and one of his.
“I can definitely get behind that.”
“You know you can’t carry a guitar around and hope to go unnoticed. Just a FYI, pal.”
“And back to busting my arse.”
“One of my favorite things.” I grinned over my shoulder.
Ian had traded his boots for flip-flops with flamingos on them. So of course he bitched the entire way down the hot sand. He was tanning up when it came to shoulders and arms, but his legs still looked like he was fresh off the plane from England.
“Have you ever gone without socks, there, English?”
“Shut up.”
I laughed. Antagonizing Ian was quickly becoming one of my favorite things. I spread out my blanket then convinced him to let me slather him in sunblock. It was a good beach day, but thankfully, the bulk of people were more interested in the boardwalk. Enough that Ian relaxed with me on the blanket. He even fell asleep with his phone in his hand.
I stroked a hand down his hair and he turned his face toward me with a sigh.
It made me wonder how often he’d had a sweet touch in his life. I tried to relax with a book on my phone, but him in repose was too hard to resist. I dug around in my bag and found a small notebook and ballpoint pen at the bottom. He really was ridiculously handsome. I’d even go so far as pretty from a few angles. I would cheerfully pay for his lashes too.
He woke to me drawing him again. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been at it, but enough for him to be groggy when he started moving.
He squinted at me and pulled on a pair of sunglasses. My sunglasses. “You gotta stop.”
“Haven’t gotten a pair of Hugo Boss?” I ignored his comment. I was used to people not loving how I studied them. Most of the time, I asked permission before I sketched, but I didn’t feel the same need with him for some reason.
“What?”
I tapped my temple where I was wearing another cheapie pair. “My pink shades.”