That dragged his thoughts away from sex and her body. Maybe she was right. Maybe doing a breakup album was going to be too hard. His throat tightened. “I’m sorry about that, Jolene. I truly am. Throwing that guitar in the pool was childish and a real asshole move. I know how expensive it was. I owe you what you paid for it.”
“I had it restored,” she said. “It wasn’t in the water for more than five minutes. It’s fine. You can have it back if you want. I gave it to you.”
He wanted to accept her offer. He’d loved that guitar, and he loved her for understanding how much it would mean to him to have it back. It wasn’t his favorite guitar to play on the fly, but it had good sound for the stage. She must have paid twenty grand or more for it, and he’d tossed it in the fucking pool. What the hell was wrong with him? “You should sell it, then. Get your money back.”
For a second she hesitated as if she wanted to tell him something. Then she just shrugged with a grin. “I may have to if my career goes south. Until then, I’m not going to worry about it.”
“Your career isn’t going to head south. You’re too talented.”
“Tastes change. Nothing lasts forever.” She leaned over, giving him a heart-stopping shot of her cleavage. She pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag. “Let’s get to work.”
He nodded and started to play around with the chords, testing a melody to her words. “Sing for me so I can hear what I need to tweak.”
She opened her mouth and sang the words she’d spoken in the pond. Though Jolene looked like she would have a husky, sex-soaked voice, she didn’t. Her sound was sweet: pure, angelic country sweetheart. When she was sitting here like this, without any accompaniment but his acoustic picking, her voice really soared. It wasn’t the big notes, diva delivery, but rather a voice that made you feel peaceful. In love. Her voice made fans fall in love with her because it was open and honest.
He found a better harmony, playing around until he felt like he had it right. She experimented with more lyrics, scratching them out in her notebook and singing softly under her breath. She crossed out phrases, switched them around. He offered some suggestions and together they had a song in an hour.
He’d missed this. The creative process with her. For some reason, their egos stayed out of their writing. Strange that it hadn’t been so true with their dating. “We’re onto something,” he told her. “Let’s take a break. I’m starving.”
She smiled and fluffed her hair, which had partially dried. It was curly and messy and sexy as hell. “This wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”
Chance was resting back on his elbows and couldn’t help himself. He leaned over and took her hand. He laced their fingers together while she looked at him in surprise.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice dripping with suspicion.
“Holding your hand.” It just felt right.
“I think the heat is getting to you,” she scoffed, but he noticed she didn’t pull away.
“Nah.” Chance sat up so he could move his body alongside hers. Her skin was cool from the pond dunking, water trailing down her temple. As he stroked her hand, he felt goosebumps rise on her. “Jolene.”
She gave a shiver. “What?”
“Nothing.” Then he kissed her.
Chapter 4
Jolene had known Chance was going to kiss her. She’d been anticipating it, expecting it. But nothing could entirely prepare her for the sensation of having that man’s lips on her mouth again. The feeling was familiar yet entirely new. She sighed into him, wanting to just breathe him in, enjoy the feeling while she could. Her fingers rose to his cheek to stroke the stubble of his beard. She opened her mouth for him, and his tongue swept inside to tease at the tip of hers.
It wasn’t like the first kiss they’d shared, when Chance had leaned over while they were writing and taken her mouth hungrily, possessively. This was almost like a goodbye kiss. A kiss marked by regret, apology. Melancholy. Chance eased her back onto her sundress with a touch more gentle than any from him in recent memory. No roaming hands, no grinding. No anger, which had marred so many of their pre-breakup embraces. No words, either. Just kissing. Good old-fashioned make-out-in-a-teen-boyfriend’s-truck kissing. With soft sighs and swollen lips and the need to taste each other thoroughly. She wasn’t sure how long they would have kept at it, but Dolly decided to make the moment a threesome, coming over and resting her head on Jolene’s bare belly. That made her laugh, and Chance shook his head as they broke apart. “Really, dog?”