Katie laughed, draining the last of her cocktail. “She’s pretty excited about reuniting with her high school sweetheart. They’re both unattached and probably very horny.”
His eyes widened, and he had to shift in his seat again. He noticed a pinkish-hue cross her delicate cheek.
“So,you’re‘Georgia Clay,’ the same guy who wrote all those number ones on the country charts, huh?”
His secret was out. “I’ve written some hit songs. It’s no big deal.” Not wanting her to get carried away with the discovery of exactly who he was, he pulled out his wallet and threw down a couple of bills. “You hungry? I didn’t eat much before this shindig and the alcohol is going straight to my head.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I missed dinner because I was stuck in a pretty major traffic jam trying to get here on time. What did you have in mind?”
He helped her out of the chair and held open the blazer for her to put her arms in, inadvertently pushing her long hair to the side so it wouldn’t get tucked in. “I have an idea.” His fingers traced the creamy, soft skin of her neck sending a tingling sensation throughout his body.
chapter three
The summer cicadas were loud as their late evening song floated in the humid night air. The stars were bright, and Katie could swear they were blinking and winking in celebration for her current situation. Clay had spread an old furniture pad in the back end of his pickup truck and they were enjoying an impromptu picnic of fast-food cheeseburgers, fries, and milkshakes they had picked up along the way. He’d parked the truck in a secluded area by the old high school football stadium not too far down the road from the hotel. Katie had taken her blazer and pointy shoes off and sat with her legs stretched out on the thick blanket with her face turned up toward the sky. The nighttime show Mother Nature displayed was magnificent. With food in her belly, a lingering buzz from the earlier cocktails, and a handsome man by her side, she was feeling pretty good.
“Are the mosquitos getting to you?” Clay asked. One of his relaxed arms hung across the side of the truck and his legs stretched out in front of him with his booted feet crossed at the ankles. She imagined what it would feel like to have his arm draped around her.
“No, they never bother me. I guess my skin tastes pretty bad,” she giggled wrapping her lips around the red straw of her shake and draining the last bit of cold chocolate.
Clay puffed a breath of air through his nose. “I doubt your pretty skin tastes bad.”
She eyed him with raised eyebrows, surprised and delighted by his remark.
“I mean… mosquitos like certain blood types and such. You must not have the kind they like or else they’d be all over you,” he stammered.
She was sure he was blushing, but it was hard to tell in the dark. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
They sat in silence, continuing to listen to the buzzing of the insects and the faint sounds of the interstate traffic whizzing nearby.
“So, what do you do when you’re not working, Katie?” Clay asked.
She shifted her body to where she was lying on her side with her head propped on her bent elbow rubbing her bare feet together. “I dunno. I work all the time. I like to work.”
“Besides work.”
She had to think for a moment. “Well… Stacey and I hook up every week to catch up over cocktails, and I see my family once a month for dinner.”
“Hmmm,” he muttered.
“I’d like to travel more someday, on my own terms, and not because I have to be at a conference for work.”
“Does your job require you to be on the road a lot?” he asked with interest.
“I have to go to the headquarters in Dallas once a month, and then we usually have a national conference in some big city once a year. Last year it was in Memphis.”
“Memphis? Birthplace of Elvis Presley,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Yep. We took a tour of Graceland. It was pretty cool.”
“I’ll bet.”
They sat in silence again before Katie sat up and slowly started to gather their fast-food trash. She wasn’t used to downtime, her idle hands becoming fidgety in the awkward silence. Where this evening was headed, she had no idea.
“Let me help you,” Clay said, getting on his knees and reaching for her yellow cheeseburger wrapper. They both grabbed it at the same time making her giggle again.
“I’ve got it,” she said, shoving it into the open bag he held for her. When they were finished, she swung her legs over the lift-gate of the truck and gripped the metal edge. He followed suit sitting right beside her. They were once again trying to navigate the uncomfortable silence. “So, you’re a pretty quiet guy,” she boldly proclaimed.
“So I’ve been told,” he replied, cocking his head to look at her. In the dim moonlight, she could tell he was smiling as they sat next to each other swinging their legs slowly back and forth, their hands dangerously close. She wished he was more talkative and not so quiet. It was a little bit unnerving.
