Reverse (The Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

I could live a hundred more years of life and will never forget the way she looked at me while I sang for her in the hotel. That will go untouched in memory, as will our kiss tonight.

I’m still unsure who initiated it, but what I do know is that I’ve never had to question who struck first before.

I’ve never lost myself in my senses like I did then.

As ridiculous as it may be, in a matter of days, I’ve become utterly and completely fucking bewitched by Natalie Butler.

Raw ache continues to build as I mentally tick through a small list of dialable, no-strings distractions that could come close to satiating me. A warm body to lose myself in that may help this gnawing that won’t let up.

Within seconds the answer is clear, and she’s in room 212 at The Edgewater Hotel. “Fuck!”

Dad’s head snaps up at my outburst, his brows drawing tight as he stills his hands. It’s then I realize I’ve stopped playing and failed to lose myself in the music, something I’ve rarely if ever, fucking done.

When Dad moves to click the track off, I jerk my head to stop him. Knowing I’m worrying him but unable to help myself, I lay my sticks to rest on the snare and walk out of his studio without explanation.





Crazy for You

Madonna

Natalie



Zipping my suitcase shut, I roll it to the edge of the bed before stepping out onto the balcony of my hotel, which overlooks the water. The sun hovers brightly above as a cluster of seagulls flock together and swoop in my direction, flying eye level with me a few feet from where I stand.

Nervous laughter escapes at the way they’re stalking me, no doubt trained by previous guests to wait for breakfast leftovers. As I take in the view, I realize Seattle has truly taken a back seat, playing more of a backdrop to Easton during my time here. Only now, as I prepare to leave, do I find myself appreciating the view I’ve had access to the entirety of my trip, yet, I have no regrets about why. I also can’t bring myself to regret coming, but hate the way we parted last night. The second I closed the door to his truck and entered the lobby, I felt the loss of him strike. The idea of missing him is insane, but it still rings just as true now as it did last night. Just as I switch my camera to capture a panoramic view against the invading glare of the sun, a knock sounds on my door. Ears perking up, I step inside, unsure if housekeeping announced themselves.

“I’m still here!” I call out. “I asked for late check-out,” I explain, nearing the door.

“I was hoping you were,” rings out in reply as I open the door to find a grinning Joel on the other side. The instant burn in my chest leaves my hopes of seeing Easton before I left dashed.

I manage to muster a smile. “Hey, you. What brings you here?”

“Thought you might want a lift to the airport.”

“Thank you, but my flight doesn’t leave for another four hours.”

“I’ve got time to kill,” he brushes past me to grab my waiting suitcase. “We’ll take the scenic route.”

“Joel, that’s really not necessary. I don’t want to take up your day.”

“You aren’t. It’s either chill with you or be bored in a parking lot,” he says, glancing around the room.

A dozen questions surface, mainly consisting of which parking lot it would be. If Easton occupies the building he’d been waiting outside of and where it’s located.

“Joel, seriously, thank him for me, but—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer, so give it up. Besides, I can think of a lot worse ways to spend a day.” His warm smile puts me at ease.

“Okay,” I agree.

He looks around again. “Got everything?”

“Let me do one last walk through, and I’ll meet you at the elevator.”

“Sounds good.”

Unable to help myself, I grab the remaining two pieces of toast from my breakfast tray and toss them onto my balcony before quickly sealing my door shut, narrowly avoiding the explosion of fluttering wings that follows.

After checking the drawers and bathrooms, I place a bill on the desk to tip housekeeping and glance around the room, knowing my time is up, but the source of my melancholy rests somewhere outside this hotel room. Even so, I find myself grabbing the forty-dollar teddy bear dressed in a red sweater brandishing the hotel logo before I exit, a souvenir of my time here, of the memories I’ll be hard-pressed to forget anytime soon. Especially the minutes in which Easton sang for me, and for the first time publicly.

Joining Joel, who’s already inside a waiting elevator, he ushers me in, eyeing the bear and flashing me a grin. I lift a shoulder in reply.

Once outside, I follow him to the SUV parked at the pass-through. Taking Easton’s jacket draped on the top of my suitcase, I slide it on, unwilling to part with it just yet. Joel barely conceals his smirk as he opens the back door for me, and I give him a “pshh” before circling him and hopping into the front passenger seat. He chuckles as I close the door, and once in the driver’s seat, he turns to me.

“I know of a place that serves the absolute best seafood in the Pacific Northwest. You up for it?”

“Sounds perfect,” I lie.

“It’s a little bit of a drive.”

“Well, we have time,” I remind him.

“All right then, it’s a plan.”

I use the drive to get acquainted with the person who’s probably closest to the man I haven’t been able to chase from my thoughts since the day we met. Long minutes into our drive, our polite chatter turns more personal in nature. So far, I’ve discovered Joel’s ex-Army and served four years before getting hired as Easton’s private driver and bodyguard.

“No wife or kids?”

“Not by choice. I’m ready for it, but I’m being patient. I haven’t found her yet. It will happen when it happens.”

“Do you think it’s the job?”

“No, I’ve had a few long-term relationships,” he shrugs, “they just didn’t work out. Mostly because the women I’m typically attracted to turn out to be bat shit.”

“Well, that’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, more so than this job.”

I run my fingers along the fabric of Easton’s jacket. “How will you know when you’ve found the right one?”

“When I miss her too much to go from one day to the next without her, only then will I consider putting the job last.”

“Not a bad way to gauge it,” I agree, glancing out the window at the trees blurring past us on either side of the road. Briefly, I wonder how good the fare is for what seems like a drive to nowhere. It’s when Joel begins to slow as we approach a deserted, small, dilapidated-looking, one-story building that I turn to him with drawn brows.

“What’s this?”

“A pit stop.”

Confused, I scan for clues until I catch a glimpse of the tailgate of Easton’s truck parked at the side of the isolated building. My heart leaps into a fast rhythm when Joel parks just in front of the entrance.

“You tricked me,” I scold.

“Yeah, you look really unhappy about it,” he replies with a grin I know mirrors my own. “Go on, I’ll be here waiting for you,” he urges as I look back toward the building when Easton appears at the door, knocking the wind out of me.

His eyes sweep me as I exit the SUV in his jacket and prance toward him with a grin. “Hey,” I say, nearing him.

Easton replies with a soft “Hey,” before shifting his gaze to the SUV and lifting his chin to Joel in thanks. I duck under Easton’s arm as he holds the door open and come to a dead stop.

“Where exactly are we?” I ask as the door slams closed behind us, shrouding us in darkness. The only light comes from a dimly lit hallway several feet in front of us. Eyes adjusting to the lack of light, I make out a seating area full of worn leather couches on our left and a small kitchenette to the right.

Easton stands just behind me, his chest brushing my back. I sense some slight tension rolling through him as he speaks. “I wanted to show you something before you go.”

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