“Well, Thursday night I have this industry thing to go to. Cocktails, schmoozing, maybe a little dancing. It’s the kind of shindig that makes me completely miserable, but I’m expected to be there. I’m also expected to bring a date.”
Bree’s breath caught in her throat. Was he asking her to go on a date once they were back in Nashville? That was a big deal. It was as if he was acknowledging that the two of them might be viable outside of this cabin. He’d hinted at it with their talk about fantasy vacations, but this was real. Concrete plans. Bree wasn’t nearly as certain of their longevity as he was. Sure, he’d played the guitar a couple of times. He was trying, but he was still a far cry from being the carefree Ian she remembered. Right now, she was just a distraction from his laptop. Could there really be more? She both craved and feared finding out the answer.
“I RSVP’d last week to go to this thing with Missy,” he continued, unaware of the tension that had leaked into her muscles. “Obviously, that’s no longer an option. I could go by myself, but I really don’t want to face all those people on my own. Since I’ve unplugged, I have no idea how the fake pregnancy scandal is all going down, but I’m sure everyone will be whispering behind my back or feeling sorry for me. I thought if I showed up with a blonde bombshell on my arm, it might shut them up. It might also be a lot of fun having you there. What do you think? Would you like to go with me?”
Bree hesitated. She wanted to go, yet she was afraid to say yes. If Ian was trying to have a life outside work, she needed to support that, or she had no room to criticize. She didn’t have to work Thursday night. She could go. She wanted to go. She just didn’t know if she should go. A glamorous night out, champagne with important people, bodies pressed close together while dancing across polished marble floors... Was her heart strong enough to withstand a romantic assault of that caliber?
“Okay,” she said at last.
A wide smile broke out across Ian’s face. “Really? Awesome. I think you’ll enjoy yourself. I can introduce you to some musicians. Quite a few will be there. Do you like Jack Wheeler’s music?”
Bree’s eyes got big. Jack Wheeler had once been a member of one of the biggest bands in rock. He was an icon. A member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He was also a photographer who had put out several books in addition to gallery showings and magazine spreads. Yeah, she wanted to meet him. That would be amazing. “Sure,” she said, trying not to sound too eager.
That just brought the worry back into her mind, this time of a more frivolous nature. She was going to a party with rock stars. What was she going to wear? She felt her chest tighten with panic. She didn’t dress up very often. For weddings where she was shooting, she wore black pants and a black blouse so she could move almost invisibly through the party. She wanted to get great shots but not at the expense of the people at the wedding. She might have a cocktail dress. Maybe. Perhaps Amelia did. They were close to the same size, although Amelia was doubly blessed when it came to “the girls.” She’d have to go shopping. She didn’t want to embarrass Ian in front of his peers.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t look very enthused. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“No, no,” she argued. “I want to go. I’m just not sure what I’m going to wear.”
“Judging by the women I’ve seen at events like this, something chic and sparkly. And if I can inject my personal preference into the equation, something on the shorter, tighter side so I can spend all night imagining you taking it off when we get home.”
That brought a smile to Bree’s lips. “I suppose I can manage that. I’ll go shopping when I get back to Nashville. Or I’ll raid Amelia’s closet. She will know just what to do. She’s the fashionista. I’m just the photographer.”
“Always behind the camera,” he noted, referencing their earlier conversation.
“That’s how I prefer it.”
“And I,” Ian began, “prefer you without that top on.” He lifted the empty breakfast tray and moved it to the nightstand before snuggling up beside her. “Here’s to making the most of our last day here,” he said before pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.
The moment his lips touched hers, all her worries vanished. There were no parties, no rock stars, no fancy dresses and no painful past. Just him and her together, cherishing their last day in the safe haven of the cabin. Tomorrow, they would return to the real world. And despite how carefully she had tried to hold back with Ian, she knew she couldn’t last much longer. Soon she would give in and be his, no matter what the consequences. She’d tried to be strong, but his touch and his words made her weak.
Resistance was futile.
* * *
Ian stepped out onto the front porch the next morning and took one of his last lungfuls of fresh mountain air. The roads were clear and finally open. Their time here was at an end.
For some reason that bothered him. He didn’t know why. He should be happy to get home and return to work and life as usual, but suddenly his everyday life didn’t seem that appealing anymore. It felt empty, like he was just a robot going through the motions each day.
It was just like Bree to be able to sow seeds of doubt into his life in only a few short days. He’d gone nine years without playing a guitar or picking up a pen to write a song. As long as he kept those thoughts from his mind, he was okay. Now, his fingers were achy and restless to get back to playing. That wasn’t what he needed to be spending his time and energy on. He was a four-hour drive from Nashville and the personal and professional cluster that awaited him in the wake of the fake pregnancy scandal.
He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with any of that, most especially dealing with Missy. She might not be his fiancée any longer, but she was still one of his artists. Until the final terms of her contract were met, he’d have to work with her, but it would not be much longer. In maybe another month, he could cut ties with Missy and never have to think about her ever again.
Bree came out onto the porch behind him, her camera equipment slung over her arms to load into her SUV. There was the other woman that would plague his thoughts. If Ian was smart, he would cut ties and not think about Bree again, either, but that wasn’t going to happen. When it came to his college love, he was the dumbest man in the world.
“I can help you with that,” he said, stepping into the driveway and scooping a heavy bag off her shoulder.
“I’ve got it, but thank you,” she said with a smile. “I’m used to hauling all this stuff around on my own, you know.”
“Is there any more?”
“Just my backpack and the tripod. They’re in the living room.”
“I’ll go get them.” Ian went inside, climbing up the stairs two at a time. He found her bag and the tripod and picked them up. He gave a quick scan over the house and didn’t see anything else that belonged to her. He went back outside and handed her the last items to put in her car.
“I guess that’s it,” she said, stepping back to slam the hatch closed. Bree swayed nervously in her Converse, her hands buried in her back pockets.
Her hair was braided again today, the same way it had been when they’d played in the snow. He felt the memory threaten to ignite a fire in him, but now was not the time. He’d had all day yesterday to get his fill of Bree. Now, he would have to wait until Thursday, at least. Even if he wanted to see her, it would take days to manage the mess he’d been ignoring when he unplugged.