He stood out in his beach bum chic…swim trunks and an unbuttoned plaid shirt, but no one else seemed to notice. They swayed to the music while I stared at Gray. He gave me a knowing look before unfastening the fly on his trunks and freeing his cock. He crooked his finger and next thing I knew, I was on my knees, fumbling with my belt buckle with my mouth wide open and—
What the hell? I flattened my hand over the strings and cast a wary glance around the now-bustling café before reading over what I’d written.
I want you over me, inside of me, hands in my hair, mouth everywhere
The words jumped from the page and immediately suggested a beat. Something sultry and bluesy. As the music built inside me, the imagery sharpened. And it was all Gray. I could practically feel his hands and his lips. I didn’t stop to wonder why I was so obsessed with him. I learned not to question the process when the words flowed and the song practically wrote itself.
I don’t want you to take your time
I don’t want to make you mine
Take it harder, take it faster, take it—
“Sounds sexy.”
I started in surprise and frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“Coffee.” Gray lifted his to-go cup as proof. “Mind if I join you?”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like to talk to you,” he replied patiently.
“Uh…” I held his stare as I tried to get my heart rate under control.
This was weird. It was like I had a magic pen that somehow conjured what I’d written. Or maybe I was still dreaming. If I blinked and found myself on a giant stage in a noisy arena with a raging hard-on, I might just drift back to sleep and—
“Are you okay?” Gray cocked his head and gave me a concerned look.
I nodded before dropping my backpack on the floor. “Be my guest.”
Fuck, he was hot. He looked like a construction worker in his plaid shirt and Levis. His dark hair was mussed like he’d just rolled out of bed, and his beard was thicker, like he hadn’t bothered shaving. It didn’t cover his dimple, though. And nothing could hide the obvious humor in his twinkling eyes. I wondered what the hell he was smiling about. We hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms. And in spite of what I’d told Tegan, I hadn’t called Gray. My pride kept getting in the way. Ugh. I was such an idiot sometimes.
I cradled my guitar and reached for my lukewarm latte as Gray pulled out the chair next to mine. And then presented me with a bouquet of mini red roses. “These are for you.”
“You bought me flowers?” I asked incredulously.
“Yeah.” He gave me a bashful shrug and looked away. “I’m sorry about last week. I was wrong and I apologize for offending you.”
“You didn’t offend me,” I bluffed, brushing my thumb over the tiny petals. “Okay, fine. You did, but you didn’t have to buy me flowers. Ice cream would have worked.”
Gray chuckled. “Believe it or not, I brought a pint of Häagen-Dazs chocolate chip for you yesterday and the day before. You weren’t here, so I had to eat it myself. I was on track to gain ten pounds if I kept missing you, so I switched to roses. The florist was very specific about the type and the color. She said red is for lovers, and since we don’t know each other well, she suggested the miniature ones. Don’t let this freak you out, though. They’re just flowers.”
“No one’s ever bought me flowers in my life,” I assured him with wide-eyed wonder. “I’m totally freaked out. But in a good way.”
“So, you forgive me?”
“Yeah. I might have overreacted. I’m a hothead sometimes. I get anxious and lash out when I don’t know what’s going on and…you know, I had no fucking idea you were famous.”
“I’m not famous, Justin. I’m just a writer.”
“I googled you, dude. You’re famous. You’ve written tons of songs. Good ones too. I heard the one they’re using for the Apple commercial the other day. It usually pisses me off to see a good song ruined by the corporate machine, but it was pretty well done. So don’t tell me you’re not famous. You are. Christ, you even have a Wikipedia entry. Why didn’t you tell me your name at Carmine’s?”
“ ’Cause you didn’t want to know it,” he reminded me. “You wanted anonymity, remember?”
“I was having a bad night. But it got better.”
“Mine too. You know, I didn’t want to go to Carmine’s that night. Seb’s always trying to drag me out of the house. I love live music, but I don’t like going places where someone wants a piece of my time to further their career. I didn’t know why he wanted me there until the next day. He mentioned Xena, but I didn’t know about the contract. And once I did, I figured I’d wait to see if you called me. But you didn’t.”