But a different kind of heat than Texas hellfire. The AC on full blast in the cabin making it bearable. It’s the feeling of serenity here that has me melting into the seat, relaxed, the atmosphere unlike any I’ve ever known. Being in this part of the desert is like existing underwater, tranquil and slow-moving. Like the outside world exists, but it’s muffled and seems unimportant. As if all of the rest of the world’s chaos doesn’t apply here.
“This is a dream,” I declare over the music. Easton doesn’t reply but lifts my left hand as he has a dozen or more times since we woke, pressing another gentle kiss to my ring finger. The pleasure he takes in the act is clear in his features when he does it. Easton turns the radio dial to settle on another song. We’d turned off our phones last night before we boarded the jet and have taken every precaution since to keep ourselves concealed and under the radar.
We only let the top down when we are miles into the drive on the two-lane road. Our surreal surroundings only add to the fuzzy haze of the hours preceding this. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was slumped against my apartment door, questioning my fit into Easton’s life.
Thumbing my ring now, I decide the fit is fucking perfect.
Feeling utterly at peace in my surroundings and my position and place with the man by my side, I appreciate him more due to the fact he didn’t want me to miss this, even when we have the divine right to be naked hermits. Still, I fight to keep my eyes on the spectacular terrain instead of the view next to me.
“Space Song” croons through the cabin as Easton drives quietly at my side. Turning to him, I realize he hasn’t replied to me because he’s lost somewhere in his music subspace, far beyond my reach. Silently, I wait for him to come back to me, knowing whatever magic going on inside his head deserves the attention he’s giving it. A few minutes later, he speaks up.
“Sorry, did you say something, Beauty?”
I grip his hand and kiss along his knuckles. “Nothing important.”
“What was it?”
“I said this is a dream, and I love it here, but then I noticed you were doing your thing.”
“What thing?”
“You know, when you blast off into a musical coma at random.”
He chuckles. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not getting in the way of that for anything.”
“That so?” I’m graced with a half-smile.
“Honestly? I’m dying to know what’s happening in there. Where did you go?”
“Playing around with a melody that sounds a lot like you.”
“Will you play it for me sometime?”
“Of course,” he quips as if it’s a given. “And I’ll try to be more conscious about my space travels, especially now.”
“No!” I shout, and he flinches, gripping the wheel tighter.
“Beauty. I love you, I do, but please fucking refrain from screaming out when we’re on narrow, winding roads in the middle of the mountains.”
I wince. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just…if you get lost, stay there. I’ll come for you when it’s important.”
“It’s not exactly a habit I want to maintain when we’re together.”
“Fuck that noise. It’s your process, Easton. I won’t disturb your momentum for anything.” I tilt my head back and get the perfect panoramic view of red mountain and turquoise sky. “God, Easton, you make the most beautiful music. I cannot wait to hear what you come up with next. Neither can the world and,” I spout with pride, admiring my band, “the next show I attend, I’ll be stage side as your wife.”
Easton slides his glasses onto his head and slows on the straightaway, his eyes trailing over my profile before he flicks his gaze back to the road.
“What?” I ask as he slows to a stop and parks on a designated shoulder next to some giant evergreens. “Why are we stopping?” I glance around, looking for a landmark of some sort. “Are we taking pictures?”
Without a word, he closes the top, and locks us in, turning down the music as the air cools our skin. Glancing over, I lift a brow.
“Good sir, we cannot do…whatever it is you’re thinking of doing, and I’m pretty sure what you’re thinking will include an arrest. This is a state park.”
Eyes intent, he reaches over and caresses my face, his features relaxed, his eyes softening.
“What?” I grin. “What is it?”
“You know what my father calls my mother?”
“Grenade.”
“Yeah. That’s his pet name for her. Because that’s the way he saw her when they met. A ball of destruction.”
“Are you saying—”
“Oh, hell yes, you are. That’s what you are for me. Charging into my life wearing a dozen mismatched sweaters, pissed off about the fact that you hadn’t been properly loved, kissed, or fucked.”
“I said no such thing.”
“You didn’t have to,” he murmurs.
“You pulled me over to tell me I’m a nightmare?”
“Yes, but there’s more, so shut up, Beauty.” He positions his thumb over my lips, and I give him a dead stare which makes him chuckle.
“I always wondered why I never gave too much of myself away to anyone in a personal capacity and felt more comfortable in isolation. Sometimes it would worry me. Like maybe I was lacking some basic human need…until I met you.” His confession lingers between us as my eyes begin to water. “I’ve also never shared a comfortable silence with anyone but my parents—until you. I’ve never felt as seen, known, or understood as I have with you.” He swallows before his lips twist ironically. “Who would have thought I would find so much comfort in who I am with—a Texas fireball full of opposition who disguised herself as a journalist.”
“Damn it, man,” I scold, tears spilling over.
“Thinking back now,” he continues, “I think I knew you existed and was waiting.” He kisses me soundly and pulls away. “My wife,” his tone full of wonder. “You found me.”
“Easton,” I sigh, as my heart swells unbearably, “you have seriously got to stop this. I was okay with you being gorgeous, brilliant, talented, selfless, and really, really, good in bed, but adding hopeless romantic is going way too far.”
He chuckles before brushing his lips across mine. “Baby, you have no idea how good it feels to know that you love me the same way I love you.”
“And how do we love each other?”
“Wholly, unconditionally, and definitively.”
“Jesus,” I sniff, climbing over the console. “You just had to play hardball, huh? Fine.” I situate myself around him in the tiny space, deciding to risk jail time.
He’s worth it.
Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby
Cigarettes After Sex
Natalie
At the peak of some of the mountainous terrain we just traveled through, we park and stretch our legs before taking a short walk to the overlook that sits past a waist-high brick partition.
“Oh, wow, Easton. Wow,” I say, glancing around. “Sucks we don’t have a camera.”
“I have my phone,” he offers, pulling it out of his pocket.
“No phones,” I say.
We stare at the other in trepidation briefly before he whispers, “Fuck it,” and powers it on. Not long after, a grin lights up his face as he turns it to me. “No service.”
“Thank God,” I exhale a breath of relief we were spared the roulette bullet as he keeps it powered up long enough to take a selfie of us. Twin smiles the main focus, he also manages to capture the blanket of tree tops in the valley below along with a little of the surrounding cliffs. He takes a few more shots of the panoramic view before powering his phone back off and taking my hand. On our way back to the car, I stop at the group of clustered craft tables that we bypassed on our walk and cautiously pause at the first, eyeing the woman sitting behind it for any hint of recognition for the rock star lingering close by. She greets me warmly, nothing telling in her answering expression as I lift a solid white dream catcher from where it hangs on the side of her table.
“This is beautiful,” I tell her before holding it up to Easton, who’s shopping a table over. “Babe, mine?”
Easton instantly nods in reply as he lifts a plate-sized, hand-crafted drum, dark wooden sticks dangling atop it. “Also yours, for your next lesson.”
“Yes, please.”