I couldn’t stop laughing for a solid five minutes.
“I’m,” laugh, “so,” laugh, “sorry.”
Jason grinned and shook his head at me before reaching behind him to grab a handful of pine needles from the tree.
“Hey!” I tried to duck out of the way as he threw them, but most of them found their way down my top and into my hair.
“That’s a good look for you,” he joked.
I shot him an evil glare as I shook out my shirt. “Are we even now?”
He smirked. “Not even close. And now it’s my turn to ask a question since you wasted yours.” He tapped his heel against Jasper’s side so that the horse started trotting down the trail again. Dotty and I were left in the dust as I tried to get pine needles out of my bra.
For the next few minutes we rode in silence. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to come up with a good question or just ignoring me. With him, it could have easily been either. Then finally, he turned back to glance at me.
“Do you write your own songs or does the label hire a song writer for you?” he asked with a serious tone, his dark eyes staring straight into mine.
WHAT?
I jerked my head back as the muscles in my neck stiffened. “Are you kidding me?”
His eyes widened in reaction to my anger.
“Of course I write my own songs,” I responded through clenched teeth. “You can look that up yourself.”
He shook his head, “I wanted to know the truth, not what the Internet had to say.”
I narrowed my eyes on him and enunciated every word as sharply as possible. “I write every single one of my songs. They’re my songs.”
It wasn’t out of the norm for singers to have writers feeding them music. Some bands still produced their own songs or used a mix of original content. I’d always wanted to stay true to myself. I wanted to get up on stage and perform my lyrics, my melodies, for my fans. And for Jason to ask that question, in a way in which he clearly thought he had me figured out— it absolutely boiled my blood.
I had the sudden urge to thump my heel into Dotty’s side so she’d take off in a gallop and we could leave Jason behind, but I wasn’t sure how strong of a rider I was yet. So instead, I took a few calming breaths and tried to forget about it. For the length of my entire career, I’ve had people question my authenticity. I should have had a thicker skin about it, but it’d always be a soft spot. Especially when people like Jason Monroe brought it back up.
I knew Jason wanted to apologize, to explain himself. He kept peering back at me with solemn eyes, but I wasn’t going to let him. Let the asshole stew for a bit.
Finally, he cleared his throat.
“I shouldn’t have suggested that you don’t write your own songs. I’m sorry.”
I grunted, unable to loosen the grip on my annoyance with him. But when the silence became too much to handle, I caved.
“Longest time you’ve gone without sex?” I asked, trying to break the tension.
He might have passed over that question ten minutes earlier, but he knew he had some ground to make up with me.
He only hesitated for a moment before replying. “Two months, maybe a little bit more. I’ve never really counted. You?”
I swallowed. Did Brazilian model count? Technically. “A year,” I answered honestly.
“Seriously?”
“Are you using up one of your questions?” I asked with a tilt of my head.
He laughed and shook his head.
“Have you ever been broken up with?” Jason asked.
I smiled down at my saddle. You had to actually be in a relationship to go through a break-up. I decided he didn’t need to know the gritty details, so technically, I told the truth when I replied, “No.”
“Have you?” I asked as an afterthought.
I almost didn’t hear his reply, “Once.”
We came to a clearing in the forest where the grass had overtaken the trees for a few yards. There was a small pond in the center with water so clear that I knew it’d come from a spring. We hopped off the horses and let them rest and get a drink for a few minutes. I sat back on the grass, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my borrowed vest.
“Oh, I have a good one!” I exclaimed, picking up a pinecone and tossing it across the clearing.
He nodded for me to go ahead.
“Would you rather experience love firsthand or write about fictional love in your songs?”
His eyebrows furrowed and then released. “Those are my two options? I either live it or write about it?”
I smiled. “Yup.”
I could feel his gaze on me, his jaw tight, and his arms crossed. I knew if I turned to look at him, our eyes would meet and I’d see more of Jason Monroe than I ever had before. But I didn’t turn. I kept my eyes trained on the water.