He must see the alarm on my face because he chuckles again and kisses me swiftly.
“I’m picking you up for date number two tomorrow at noon.” His eyes take one more leisurely stroll down my naked body and he curses under his breath.
“Okay,” I respond, a bit unsure, and sit up, tug my dress over my head and stand as he also rises from the floor.
“You are incredible.” He cups my face in his hands and leans down to kiss me softly.
I lead him to the front door, punch the code into the alarm system to disarm it and open the door for him.
“Noon tomorrow,” he reminds me, as if I could ever forget.
“It’s a date.” I smile shyly at him.
“Set this alarm when I leave.” He glares down at me, daring me to defy him and I giggle.
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter Seven
“How many times have you been here?” Will asks me as we stand in line waiting to purchase tickets for Seattle’s Experience Music Project Museum. It’s a music museum, and so much more.
I love this place.
“Dozens,” I smile up at him, geez he’s tall and squeeze his hand. “It changes all the time, with new exhibits and stuff. Plus, I could just sit and stare at the guitars for days. Have you ever been?”
“No, I’ve just never taken the time.” He winks down at me. “I’m a rookie.”
“That’s okay, I’ll protect you.”
He smirks and pays for our tickets, and I lead him into the museum.
We wander up to the second floor where the exhibits are and I get lost in Jimi Hendrix, Nirvana, The Stones, the guitar gallery. I point out interesting tid bits of information for Will and drag him from room to room.
I love sharing this with him, and I love how interested he seems. He’s not just tagging along, trying to make me happy.
Best. Date. Ever.
We head up to the third floor and stand and stare at the enormous guitar sculpture. It’s at least fifty feet tall and is made up of real guitars, of all different shapes and sizes and colors. My eyes travel up it, examining the instruments, and I feel Will’s eyes on me.
“What?” I ask without looking at him.
“You look awesome in that outfit.”
“This old thing?” I ask and smirk, still not looking away from the sculpture. I’m in a white v-neck t-shirt with a loose, brown cotton vest over skinny blue jeans.
After a few moments, he’s still watching me.
“Do I have something on my face?” I ask dryly.
“No, you’re just so beautiful, with your auburn hair spilling down your back and pink lips parted. I like watching you. You love this, don’t you?”
“More than almost anything,” I respond truthfully. Music saved me when I was taken from Sylvia. It was my whole life in college.
“I’ve heard there’s a place here where you can get on stage,” Will comments casually and I grin.
“There is. No, I’m not getting on it,” I murmur before he can suggest it.
“Why?”
“Stage fright,” I reply and start to lead him away from the sculpture.
“Bullshit.” Will laughs and pulls me against him, his front to my back, and wraps his arms around my waist, kissing my head. “You’re not shy, sweetheart.”
“I just don’t want to.”
“I would love to hear you. Please?”
I sigh against him. I haven’t sung for anyone other than my patients since college. Since the band broke up and Leo left town.
“Maybe,” I mutter and he chuckles behind me.
“Let’s go find it. Before you change your mind.”
“It’s not far.”
We turn a corner, and sure enough, there it is. There’s a room with a stage boasting instruments, lights, even a sound machine that will emit applause and crowd sounds if you really want to feel like a rock star.
Because it’s the middle of the week, there aren’t many people wandering through the museum today, and this room is empty, which is unusual because most people love interactive exhibits.
“Go ahead. I’m dying here.”
I grin up at him and wrinkle up my nose, then gaze back at the stage.
“Why not?” I shrug and climb on stage. I grab an acoustic guitar, plug it into the amp and sit on a stool in the middle of the stage.
There’s suddenly a spotlight on me, and one of the museum employees waves at me and speaks into a mic. “You’re ready to go, miss.”
I nod and strum the guitar, making sure it’s in tune, and speak to Will through the mic.
“What do you want to hear, sir?”
Will laughs. “Whatever you know.”
“I know a lot.” I search through the library in my head and settle on one. “Okay, this one is called I Never Told You.”
I strum the guitar and clear my throat and murmur, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Will laughs at me, his eyes happy and trained intently on me and I just smile and shake my head and continue playing the intro, and then start singing about a blue eyed boy whom I miss after all the things we’d been through. The song is sweet and a little sad, and reminds me a little of Leo, although I was never in love with Leo.
The song comes to an end. I open my eyes and look out at Will. His face is completely sober, his eyes unblinking and still trained on me. He’s leaned his elbows on his knees and isn’t moving.