Down on My Knees Page 11

  “I’ll clean it up, Red. Don’t worry,” I say, looking around the bio-hazard I created in her kitchen. “Go get ready and I’ll have the kitchen back good as new.”

  “But…what happened?” she asks, dazed as she surveys the disaster.

  I make my way to her front and take the tray from her hands, breaking her stare from the mess I made. Gently, I turn her around and give her butt a smack. “Go get ready, babe.” Her footsteps are muffled as she walks across the carpet. Turning around, I interlace my fingers on top of my head, surveying the damage. “Where the hell do I start?”

  “Dude, where the hell have you been?” Keith hollers as soon as I put my car in park and open my door.

  “Sorry, man. Had something I had to finish before I left.” I run my hand along the back of my neck.

  “I know that look,” Keith laughs out. “I get the same one every time I have to do something for Sarah. What honey-do were you roped into?”

  “I wasn’t roped into anything. I made Camryn breakfast this morning.”

  “Impressive,” he cuts in, and I give him the side eye.

  “And I pretty much destroyed the kitchen in the process.”

  “Ouch,” Keith says with a wince. “Say no more. I understand. Let’s get in there and get these tracks laid out.”

  Sitting on the stools, we warm up our guitars.

  “How many songs have you written now?” I ask, strumming through the chords, the strings a familiar comfort.

  “Eight now. I have a guy in Nashville who may be interested in one of the ones we’re recording today.”

  “Which one?”

  “Is Love Enough,” he says, tuning his guitar.

  “That is a kick ass song, man. It’ll be a chart climber for whoever records it. If it were heavier, I’d steal it for us,” I reply with a chuckle.

  “I think a couple of the new ones I’ve come up with may fit you guys.”

  I look over at him, surprised. “Really? That’s great. I can run them by the guys tomorrow if you’re ready. We’re going to start working on a new album and we’re gathering song ideas.”

  “You guys ready?” Mac asks from inside the sound booth.

  Glancing over at Keith, he gives me a nod. “Yeah. All set.”

  As he starts the recording process, Keith and I fall into an easy rhythm. Our voices are harmonious as we sing the lyrics, chords in time with each other and tempo on point. After three hours, Mac gives us the thumbs up. The songs are perfect.

  “You two sounded great,” Mac’s voice floats through the speakers. “You should record these as a duo. Chart toppers, I’m telling ya.”

  “I agree. You two were in perfect harmony.” Brian’s voice startles me as he walks into the room. Brian Jefferies, our band manager, the man who put us on the map after hearing us sing one night in Jake’s uncle’s bar.

  “Hey, Brian. Didn’t know you were going to be around today,” I say as we clasp hands.

  “Just thought I’d drop in and see what’s going on when I saw your ride out front. Brian Jefferies,” he introduces himself to Keith before I get the chance.

  “Keith Sterling.”

  “Keith and I go way back. We went to high school together.”

  “Yeah, we reconnected a few months ago at a bar my band was playing at.”

  “What your band’s name?” Brian asks.

  “Southern Drawl,” he replies.

  “Oh, that’s the band shirt you were wearing on tour, right, Isaac?”

  “Sure was. Thought I’d get his name out there even though it’s not our sound.”

  “What do you play?” Brian asks Keith, and I can’t help but smile.

  “Country mainly. I like southern rock, but our lead singer isn’t buying into it.”

  “You’re not the lead singer?” Brian asks, his eyes wide, and I’m not surprised. Keith’s voice is solid and smooth.

  “Nah, lead guitar. I write a lot of our songs, though. That’s what Isaac and I were doing today. Recording some demos.” He nods toward me.

  “He has a couple songs he thinks we may like, Brian. I told him we could run them by the guys tomorrow. See how they feel about them.”

  “Hmmm,” Brian hums out, running his hand across his chin. “Keith, make sure you drop by tomorrow with the songs. Is your band local?”

  “A couple of us are. The drummer, bass player, and back-up singer live near Waco.”

  “When’s your next show?”

  “We have a weekend gig at the Whiskey Saloon in Fort Worth for the next two months.”

  “I’ll make a point to come see you play a set. Do you have a manager?”

  “No. Kellen manages everything for us.” The dopey smile on Keith’s face makes me laugh.

  “And Kellen is?”

  “Our singer. He does our bookings and such.”

  “Good. I’ll leave you gentleman to it.” Brian shakes both our hands. “See you bright and early in the morning,” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves the room. Keith plops down on the stool, letting out a huge sigh.

  “Did I really just meet Brian motherfucking Jefferies?” Keith asks, his voice filled with awe.

  “Yeah. Brian’s a good guy. Don’t let the reputation fool you.”

  “Did he really say he’s going to catch our act, or was that just a figment of my imagination?”

  “He said it, my friend.” I laugh out loud.

  “Holy shit.”

  “Come on, man. Let’s get something to eat and then head home.” I clap him on the back before putting my guitar back on the stand.

  “Red, you ready to head to the store?” I holler, walking through the front door. Bags laid out on the floor catch my eye, and I saunter into the kitchen, finding her reaching up to place something on the top shelf. The long, dark green blouse she’s wearing rises, and my eyes lock onto the way her tight jeans cup her lush ass.

  “Well…I saw we may get some rain later and I wanted to go ahead and get it done before it hit.”

  Tiptoeing up behind her, I palm her ass before wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against me. Her startled shriek makes me laugh, but then she melts against me, and my heart sings.

  “Geez, you’re quiet when you want to be,” she giggles out. Placing a kiss on the side of her neck, I grab a bag and start to unload it onto the counter. When I reach the steaks, my mouth starts to water.

  “We having steaks tonight?” I ask, my gaze not wavering from the cellophane wrapped package.

  “I thought you might like to grill out, but since it’s going to rain, we may have to wait until later in the week.” She glances out the window, eyeing the dark clouds in the distance.

  “Well, if you’re getting hungry, we can go ahead and light the grill. Hopefully we can beat the weather.”

  “Sure, I’ll get the potatoes in the oven.”

  She starts digging through another bag, and I head out to get the grill fired up. After a few minutes, I walk back into the house. The steaks are now sitting on a plate, seasoned and ready to go. The mixing bowl sitting in the sink has remnants of white, fluffy whipped cream, and I peer into the oven, only to find it empty.

  “Strawberry shortcake.” Her voice comes from behind me, and I jump. Spinning around, she’s bent over laughing.

  “Apparently, I’m not the only one who can be sneaky,” I say, reaching over and drawing her to me, tickling her sides.

  “Uncle, uncle!” she cries out as tears roll down her face.

  “I started a fire outside. Why don’t we sit out there while I cook the steaks?” I pick up the steaks and walk toward the door.

  “That sounds good. Want wine or a beer?”

  “A beer would be great,” I throw over my shoulder as I clear the threshold.

  Drinks in hand, she sits on the outdoor loveseat and curls her legs under her as I arrange the meat on the hot grate. Leaving the top open, I sit beside her, the wicker groaning precariously. As soon as she snuggles into my side, she
hands me a beer. The crackling of the fire is the only sound in the quiet neighborhood. The aroma of burning wood and cooking meat fill the air around us.

  “I could get used to this,” I mutter before taking a swallow of the cold, bitter brew.

  “What’s that?” she murmurs

  “Sitting out here. You beside me. The quiet of the night surrounding us.” Children’s laughter breaks through from the wooden fence to our left, and I chuckle.

  “So much for quiet.” She chuckles before taking a sip of wine.

  I smile as the laughter continues. “It’s not bad. Sooner or later, that’ll end up happening too.”

  “What?” She glances up at me, eyes wide.

  “Kids. Running around, laughing, having fun.”

  “You want kids?”

  “Sure. Eventually.”

  “Kids are a big commitment. And you travel a lot. That’s a big burden to put on the mother of your child.”

  “That’s why I said eventually. When we’re ready, I plan on cutting back, so I can spend more time at home. I think the guys feel the same way. We’ve already started decreasing the amount of tours we’re doing now that we have women in our lives.” When she doesn’t say a word, I nudge her, so I can stand up. Walking over to the grill, I flip the steaks as she stares into the flames, a pensive look on her face. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Huh? Oh, nothing. I need to go get the potatoes ready. The steaks are ready, right?” she asks before rushing into the house. My brows furrow as I watch her through the window, wondering what caused her shift in mood. She stops at the counter and downs the rest of her wine in a big gulp before looking around the space. I consider going to her, trying to figure out what happened, but then shrug it off. When she’s ready, she’ll come to me…right?

  After dinner, we sit out on the back porch next to the fire watching the rain fall. Camryn was quiet during our meal. Now she’s sitting on her end, knees drawn to her chest with her arms crossed over the top as she stares out into the backyard, her mind a million miles away. How the hell do I get her out of this funk? Grabbing my phone, I pull up the Spotify app and type the song into the search engine. Hitting play, I stand up and hold out my hand to her. As the opening chords of Stellar Revival’s “Saving Grace” start, I pull her up and out into the yard. Wrapping her in my arms, her head tucked under my chin and arms trapped between us, we begin to step together, not really dancing but just holding each other, the rain drenching our hair and clothes. Leaning down, I softly sing, pouring all the emotion I feel for her into the words. Staring into her shining eyes, tears mingle with the raindrops down her face. Her heart is right there on the surface. I caress her soft lips with mine, letting everything bleed into the kiss. Her arms wrap around my shoulders as our bodies communicate everything we haven’t said.

  Camryn

  Sighing, I push my chair back from my desk and stretch my arms over my head. A new case has come across the board, which means hours and hours of research to either prove or disprove the plaintiff’s allegations. Twelve hour days means barely keeping my eyes open at night. I frown at the routine settling in and effecting my personal life. Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. Day in and day out.

  “Hey, sugar, you about to head home?” Sarah asks as she enters through the doorway. “You look exhausted.”

  “I am. If I had a blanket and pillow, I’d be tempted to curl up on the floor.”

  “Well, get the hell out of here.” She gathers her coat and purse from her desk. “I’m ready to get home and see my man. Isaac going to be at home waiting for you?” She gives me the side eye as we walk out the door.

  Pushing the elevator button, I answer, “Probably not. We’ll spend some time together this weekend. If they let us off,” I huff.

  “No shit. Maybe Sunday, but you know they’ll have our asses in here bright and early Saturday morning.”

  “Why hasn’t he moved in yet?” she asks on the ride down.

  “We’re in no way ready for that step yet. It’s only been a couple months.”

  “Sometimes it doesn’t take that long,” she replies with a shrug. “That man is crazy about you.”

  “It’s not him. It’s me. If I gave him the green light, I’m sure he’d have his stuff airdropped in.”

  “Then what’s the hold up?”

  “Me. I’m not ready.”

  “Not ready to let a man who practically worships the ground you walk on move in to pamper you more?” She looks at me like I’m crazy. “You’re still having doubts, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I breathe out as the ding of the bell indicates we’ve reached the garage. As we exit the door, she grabs my arm, forcing me to face her.

  “What’s going through that pretty red head of yours?”

  “I can’t help but feel like he’s going to wake up one morning and think to himself, ‘What the hell am I doing with this chick?’.”

  “That’s not—”

  “I know it’s my hang up, not his. He’s given me no indication that he feels that way. It’s in my head. And I’m working on it.”

  “At least you’re acknowledging it’s your problem.”

  “It’s just hard to wrap my head around, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. I had the same thoughts when I got with Keith. Tall, handsome man could have anyone he wanted, and he picks the short, fat chick? It took me a long time to finally realize I was what he wanted—who he chose to be with.”

  We resume walking toward our vehicles as I let everything sink in. He chose me…but for how long? As we approach my car, I turn and hug Sarah. “Thank you for being such a good friend.”

  “You’re welcome, sugar. Want to do something on Sunday?”

  “Sorry, but I think I need to spend the day with Isaac. I think we both need it.”

  “I understand. I’ll spend the day sexing up my man,” she says with a wink before crossing the aisle to her car.

  Pulling into my drive, I smile. Isaac is parked out front, the engine still running. As soon as I turn the ignition off, he’s at my side, opening the door. He wraps me in his arms the second I get out of the car, his heart thudding in my ear as he presses me close.

  “Damn, I’ve missed you, Red,” he breathes against the top of my head.

  “Missed you too,” I say, my reply muffled against his chest.

  “Come on. Let’s get you fed and in bed.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’m so tired.”

  “You’re working too hard,” he complains as we walk in the front door, his arm draped across my shoulders. “Why don’t you got get a shower or take a bath and relax. I’ll get you something to eat and we can watch a movie or something.”

  “Okay.” His cheek brushes the side of my hair, and the touch is comforting. With a pat on the ass, he sends me in the direction of the bedroom. Grabbing one of the shirts I stole from him last time he was here, I head into the bathroom and start the shower, knowing I won’t have the energy to get out if I soak in the tub. The hot water beats against my back, easing the pent-up tension as I soap up and rinse. After drying off, I apply my lotion as the last of my energy drains. Pulling on his shirt, I shuffle into the bedroom and climb under the covers, my eyes drifting shut to the sounds of him in the other room.

  “Red, wake up. You need to at least eat a little something before sleeping.” The hushed voice and gentle shake rouses me from slumber.

  “There are those pretty eyes.” He smiles down at me. “I made you a grilled cheese and some tomato soup.” He nods toward the tray in his hands.

  “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” I say around a yawn.

  “It wasn’t hard.”

  “Thank you.” I dunk a corner of the sandwich in the soup and take a bite. The buttery bread and melty cheese taste heavenly. Halfway through, I catch myself dozing off and try to recover.

  “Okay. I think you’re done. The way it’s going, you’ll be face first in the soup,” Isaac says as he removes the tray from my l
ap.

  I want to argue, but my eyelids feel as if they have weights attached to them. I burrow further under the covers, and everything around me fades away.

  “Red, Camryn. Wake up, babe. You’re going to be late for work.” Isaac’s voice barely penetrates my slumber.

  What the hell is he talking about? I just went to sleep. I crack open my eyes. The sun has barely risen. “It can’t be morning already,” I whine.

  “Sorry to disappoint. If you don’t get up, you’ll be late,” he says, placing a kiss on my lips before I can dodge it.

  “Don’t kiss me! I have morning breath!”

  When he starts laughing, I slap his thigh. “I don’t care about your damn morning breath. I’m going to round you up some breakfast before I leave and meet the guys at the gym.”

  “No breakfast,” I say as I sit up. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Babe—”

  “I’ll grab something from the café in the building. I promise.”

  “You better,” he warns before kissing me again. As he walks out of the room, I can’t help but stare at his ass in those jeans. Lord have mercy, thank you to the makers of Levi’s.

  Getting out of bed, I start getting ready for work. The whir of the blender in the kitchen is the only noise in the house. He must be making one of those nasty protein shakes. Yuck.

  Sliding my foot inside my black, calf-high boot, Isaac walks back in the room, Yeti cup in hand. After pulling up the zipper, he shoves the cup in my face.

  “I made you a smoothie.” At my wince, he chuckles. “I didn’t add any protein powder. It’s just yogurt, fruit, and almond milk.”

  Taking the cold cup, I place it on the table before reaching for the other boot.

  “Okay. I’ve gotta go before I’m late.” Placing a finger under my chin, he lifts my face for his kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “You don’t have to come by if you don’t want to. I’ll probably just crash like I did last night,” I call to his retreating back.

  Grabbing his bag off the floor, he glances back over his shoulder. “I’ll be here tonight.”

  “Isaac?” I croak out, my voice sleep roughened. I run my hand across the cool cotton sheet behind me. Either Isaac never came over last night or he’s been up for a while. I don’t remember a thing after my head hit the pillow. As I sit up and stretch, my phone dings with a text from an unknown number. Before I even think about checking it, my bladder makes itself known, sending me scurrying into the bathroom. As I brush my teeth, the phone rings. Knowing the ringtone belongs to Sarah, I grab it off the table and hit the speaker button.