One of Johnny’s eyebrows came up. “You’re going to cure me of my writer’s block?”
“No, you’re going to cure yourself.” She lifted her chin, the movement tossing her hair back over one shoulder. “I’m just here to supervise.”
“Goddamn, Hope,” he growled, shaking his head. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
The breath whooshed out of her lungs, and just like earlier tonight, her thighs felt delicious and melted, like they’d been waiting for his hands to touch them since they were formed by her maker. “Thank you.”
For a few seconds, their labored breaths were so loud in the silent space of the car, her heartbeat so intense, she swore Johnny was going to reach for her—and if he pushed her panties down this time, she wasn’t sure she could resist. “Come on,” he said finally, his voice like gravel as he opened the car door. “Show me around.”
Hope took a steadying breath and pushed out of the car, circling the front bumper in Johnny’s direction. “There isn’t much to show you. That’s the beauty of it.”
“I see that,” Johnny said, turning in a circle. “I can’t remember ever standing in the middle of this much open space. Not without festival tents and thousands of people, at least. It doesn’t seem to end.”
“What about the noise in your head?” Hope asked softly. “Is it gone?”
“It’s been gone since I saw you.” He turned to look at Hope, his soul-heavy eyes resting on her face. “This is just icing.”
Positive the swoon-pocalypse taking place in her belly was also showing on her face, Hope crossed to the trunk of her car, popped it and took out a blanket. She carried it to her usual spot at the base of the angel oak and spread it out, taking a seat on one side. All the while, she sensed Johnny’s scrutiny, his simultaneous eagerness and hesitance to come sit beside her on the blanket—and she could relate. She wanted to be close, to be near him, but gravity seemed to be pushing them together, begging them to touch. To give in now.
“Hey,” he said, lying on his side next to Hope, head propped on one hand.
“Hey,” she breathed back, goosebumps tickling her neck. “So when you leave here, where will you go next?”
Something like dread danced in his eyes before he cast his glance down toward the blanket. “Minneapolis, maybe? Or Detroit.” His mouth twisted. “Could be Chicago.”
“You can’t tell them apart?”
“I used to be able to. When I could leave the hotel without getting recognized.” His lips edged up into a smile. “Chicago has the best food. Detroit has the best underground music clubs. New York crowds are sort of aloof, which is a nice challenge.” He shrugged. “Somewhere along the line, it all turned into a blur.”
Hope slid down onto her side, facing Johnny and his eyes heated, roaming over the curve of her hip and lingering at the hem of her dress where it flirted with the tops of her thighs. “I see.” She swallowed hard. “Why don’t you take a break?”
Johnny seemed to search for an answer. “We’re at the height of our success. People on our road crew need the job, the money. My bandmates don’t want to slow down. I’d be pissing everyone off. Not to mention, taking time off to revive my creativity is kind of a diva move.”
“You’re the furthest thing from a diva.”
“You think so?” He reached a hand out and rasped his palm through the valley of her hip. “I was ready to tear the arena down and start firing people if you weren’t brought backstage tonight.”
Heat crawled up the insides of her thighs and pooled in her sex, coaxing slickness between her folds. “I couldn’t have stayed away if I wanted to.”
He cursed, his hand fisting the material of her dress. “I wish I was staying longer, Hope.”
“Me too.” She wet her lips. “Maybe you’ll come back someday.”
Johnny’s throat muscles flexed, his focus on Hope intense. “What do you do here in South Carolina? I want to know everything.”
Hope couldn’t help but shift closer to his body heat, his hand tugging her nearer, too. “Me? Hmm, let’s see. I live with my brother, which can be a challenge, because he does grumpy like it’s his job. I’m a waitress in town. My uniform is hideous, but I love my regulars. They’re mostly truck drivers and I have a bad habit of eavesdropping on their stories from the road.” She sighed. “I’m going to go to college someday. Soon. I want to get into social work so I can help kids in the same situation I went through.” She pressed her lips together. “I might have gone to school already, but too much structure makes me nervous, so I keep putting it off. Tight schedules, cinderblock walls, authority figures. It reminds me too much of being in the home.”