True for You(25)

I don’t miss the little slip. My ex-girlfriend had been schooling Bliss on how to flirt during the tour? Interesting. “Your friend had it right. So did you.”

“Oh.” A pleased smile appears on her face and her hands fall away.

The thought of Bliss teasing me banishes any thoughts of my ex having a hand in this. “Would you like to know a guy’s prospective on the subject?”

“Sure.”

“You should do whatever you feel comfortable doing. I’m pretty damn easy to please.” I stab another forkful of pancake. “Feel like touching me, touch me. Feel like kissing me for no other reason than it’s two in the afternoon—go for it. Say what you want. Dirty talking, sweet talking—I don’t care, because I know everything that comes out of those sexy lips are for me alone.” With that I finish off the rest of my pancakes.

Exhaling, her breasts rise and fall under one of my shirts. She watches me as I drain my glass of orange juice and eat the last piece of bacon, but not before I offer it to her first.

I’d love to keep talking to her about flirting, but my libido can’t take anymore. “There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you.”

“Okay.” Settling back into her chair, she waits for me to continue and I smile. I can’t help it. That’s the Bliss I know, not the flirting one. One word answers and silence reigning. Whatever she wants to be around me, I’m fine with, because I don’t think she’s had the chance to be anyone really. Kind of like me.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m impressed as hell that you somehow survived being homeless for so long, but how did you get jobs or even a driver’s license, without being able to read very well?”

“I took jobs that paid under the table, like watching kids, or cleaning homes and offices. Stuff like that.” She let out another shaky breath, drawing up her legs onto the seat of the chair and wrapping her arms around her knees. “My driver’s license is another story… when I lived with the Coreys. Brian Corey worked for the DMV and administered the test. He gave me the answers ahead of time, because he and Helen needed me to be able to drive the kids around when they couldn’t.”

Clenching my jaw at the unfairness of her situations, I managed to ask, “How was that your responsibility?”

“I was earning my keep.”

Beating out a rhythm on the table, I tamper down my fury. Of course, I’m not angry at her. I’m angry for her. But letting that out, in whatever way it would manifest itself, serves nothing, not when I’m getting to know this beautiful girl. Really know her, and not just her body.

“Can I ask you something?” Her eyes are wary behind her glasses.

“Yes.” I scoot my chair closer to hers, and then lift her right out of it. “You belong right here, you know that, don’t you?”

“Sometimes.” She melts into me, snuggling against my chest. “Are you still bent on me being your muse, because you want me to be this person that can inspire you to make music?”

“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. What I do know—when I left the tour, all I wanted was to escape. “I’m not sure of anything, really, when it comes to my career.”

“It’s okay not to know or even to change your mind.” She presses a soft kiss against my throat. “Sometimes what we think we want isn’t what we really need.”

That evening, when I take her to bed, I pull her into my arms and hold her the entire night, not trying to seduce her.

Another storm rages outside, but I’m not worried at all. Just her presence gives me comfort I’ve never known. There’s something so familiar about her, but I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s just the way she accepts me for who am I.

Only problem with that, I’m not sure who I want to be anymore.



***



I’m sitting with Bliss on the dock, fishing for our supper in the sound. The wind blows gently, ruffling her hair.

Usually, fishing makes me calm and contemplative, instead of all amped up. Usually, I fish with my dad or Cameron, not Bliss, the one woman I want and can’t have because I’m holding myself to the promise to courting her.

There’s nothing more I want to do than to lay her down, strip her out of my old clothes, and—

“Ahh!” She squeals, scrambling back from the edge. I catch her fishing pole before it hits the water. “Something bit me!”

“Does it hurt?” I ask, glancing her way. She’s examining her foot, bringing it up to her nose to inspect it. It’s comically arousing. The girl is bendy.