Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
He sighed and kept his gaze on the dogs skittering across the sand. “I mean, at the time I did. Crystal is obviously gorgeous and sweet and smart and fun to be around, and we’d been dancing all night. It just felt natural.” He paused. Natural wasn’t nearly enough to describe the intensity between them. “Not just natural. It felt good. I mean sexy.”
Erin spun round then and he could feel the glare right through her polarized sunglasses. Obviously, it was not easy to hear her brother describe kissing her best friend as sexy. He swallowed.
“Is that all that happened? A kiss?” She didn’t sound thrilled about this news.
He nodded sharply. “I—yes, that’s all that happened. I mean, I think there was a moment when we both thought about more, and then she pulled away and told me—” He took a breath. “—that she wouldn’t be one of my groupies.”
As he said the words aloud, he realized how much they had hurt him. When had he ever thought of Crystal as a groupie? She was his closest friend. And yet, a small voice inside him said that maybe what she really meant was that she didn’t want casual sex.
What if she hadn’t stopped him? Was that all it would have been? A night of pleasure for them both with no promises, no commitments?
But no, this was Crystal. Nothing between them could be casual. They knew each other too well, were too embroiled in each other’s lives. His mom already treated her like another daughter.
“What did you say?” Erin asked.
He felt sort of stupid now. “I said something about us being friends, maybe more than friends.”
Erin nodded and they kept walking. This time it was her turn to throw the ball when Buster dropped it at her feet. He wished he could enjoy the beach as much as the dogs, whose only worry was who got to the ball first, the three of them running for the joy of running. Maybe that’s what he should have done instead of walking with Erin. Maybe he should be pounding the sand in running shoes, getting some of this frustration out of his body and giving his swirling head a rest.
Finally, Erin spoke. “You know Crystal isn’t the casual sex type, don’t you?”
Of course he knew that. He nodded grimly. He could tell his sister was not exactly pleased about his revelation.
Erin continued, “I know she’s hot and sexy and puts on these great parties, but she’s a very traditional woman at heart. You can’t mess with her.”
“I wasn’t,” he said, feeling like he was struggling to defend himself. “I would never, ever do anything to hurt Crystal. You know I wouldn’t.”
“Sometimes we hurt people without meaning to. How did you leave it?”
He shrugged. “I watched her go inside her house and shut the door. I drove home and I stayed up all night and wrote a song.”
She looked slightly mollified at that. “Well, I’m pleased to know that you can feel bad after messing with my friend.”
“I didn’t mess with her, okay? One kiss. That’s all it was.” Then he thought about it and had to amend his statement. “One spectacular, out-of-this-world kiss.”
Now she took off her sunglasses altogether to stare at him. She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. It was in her expression.
Uh-oh.
Uh-oh was right. Maybe talking to Erin had been a bad idea. Maybe he had messed up even more than he’d realized.
Chapter Fourteen
Damien and Erin walked a little farther down the beach, silent for a while as he let Erin process that her brother and her best friend had kissed. They passed a couple of moms with small children making sandcastles, and she finally smiled again.
Damien took the opportunity to tell her the rest of the story. “And there’s another thing. There’s this singer I’ve been mentoring.”
Erin looked confused at this change of subject. “You’re mentoring another musician?”
“Don’t look so surprised. Sure I am. Someone gave me a break when I was young and it’s my way of paying it forward, I guess.”
She nodded thoughtfully. Maybe he was redeeming himself in her eyes. “What kind of musician?”
It was easier just to tell her the story. “You remember last year when I did a couple of concerts in New York?”
“Yeah, of course. It was on the news. They both sold out within minutes.”
He felt mildly embarrassed that she remembered that, and he quickly glossed over the comment with the rest of his story. “Well, I was just walking through Brooklyn, and I randomly went into this coffeehouse for a matcha and there was a singer performing. Her name’s Opal Dahlberg. She’s amazing. She writes her own stuff and it’s good. Raw and honest, and her voice just kind of drags you in. I was at a table in the back. She didn’t know who I was—she didn’t even notice me. No one did. It was great.” He was always relieved when he could act like a normal person, one who wasn’t famous, wasn’t stalked, wasn’t constantly asked for autographs or selfies. Not that he minded—his fans kept him doing the thing he loved—but sometimes he wanted to sit quietly in a coffeehouse and listen to somebody else perform. “When her set finished, I went up and introduced myself.”