Spinning around on the leather bench seat I watch Ben running out of the restaurant, searching for us, and mutter to myself, “Oh, I’m gonna hear about this.”

“From who?” Paige asks, those smoky brown eyes of hers fixed on me. The more she drank the more her talons retracted and the real Paige came out. Everything she had to say was interesting, and she didn’t just talk for no reason. During our meal she’d listen and add her opinions and ideas, just like she did with that philosophy on why people do drugs. I’m trying to remember why I called her a bitch, but I’ve got her intoxicating scent in my nostrils and on my clothes from when I carried her, so the reason is buried in the excitement of our escape.

Her lavender dress is hiked up on her left thigh. She sees me looking at her bare knee and reaches to cover up. Delicate fingers push the fabric down and that subtle move is more erotic to me than when that groupie snapped her hot pink garter belt against her hip last Monday night.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“What did you say?” I’m staring at her lips. This girl pisses me off as much as she turns me on.

“Who are you going to hear about this from?”

My hand hovers near her leg. Her breath hitches. Both of us are watching my fingers, wondering what I’m going to do. I’m waiting for her permission or a sign that she’s not going to slap me again. Pulling my hand away I rake my hair back and attempt to relax in my seat despite the erection pushing on my zipper.

“I liked what you said about drugs and spirituality.”

“Are you teasing me, Gabriel?”

“No.”

“You mean what you’re saying?”

“Yeah,” I frown, holding her curious look. She makes me nervous. Now that I’m alone with her I don’t know what to do if it’s not to seduce her. So I decide to try.

As my hand heads her way again she grabs it, gently but still firm, and lays it on my thigh. “Don’t. I’m sure you hear the word ‘yes’ all the time. But I don’t look at sex like a lot of people do.”

My eyebrows twist my forehead. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

Paige laughs, “That’s a conversation I’ll save for another day.”

“You think there will be another day?”

“No,” she flatly says, then looks out the window as if the subject is closed.

I stare at the side of her beautiful face, every curve delicate. She’s not model pretty or trashy hot. She feels like warm milk, especially with that soothing voice of hers. Even when she’s nervous, something about her feels grounded and centered. Like she doesn’t need my opinion of her to tell her who she is. In fact, she doesn’t give a shit what I think about her. Never met a woman like that before. Ever.

“You been teaching yoga long?”

Glancing over to see if I’m really asking or just baiting her, she decides I’m worth a response and says, “Three years, but I’ve been practicing since I was fifteen.”

She pauses to see if I’m bored.

I cock my head to communicate that I want her to continue, go deeper with her answer.

A fresh, shy smile appears and she takes a purposeful breath. “Some very difficult things happened in my family when I was a kid. I needed a way to find peace. Therapy didn’t seem cool – I was just a teenager.”

“Right,” I nod.

“So I went to a yoga class and found that when I was forced to pay attention to my body, everything sort of went away. Things didn’t feel insurmountable to me anymore. Holding the Warrior poses gave me a sense of inner strength, which is exactly what they’re meant to do. Holding stretches for long periods of time helped me release tension and remember who I am, that peace of mind starts with me.” She thinks a moment and sighs, “I’m glad you asked me this because I’ve forgotten lately. When I was in class as a fifteen-year-old, it was the first time where I wasn’t thinking about anything else but my Self, in the literal and spiritual sense of the word. Until then I was always thinking about everyone else and it was exhausting!” Searching my eyes to see if I understand she touches between her breasts. “I was able to get in touch with the still, small voice in here, the one who always knows what to do.”

“Did it make your family problems go away?”

A shadow passes over Paige’s eyes and she gives a regretful, tiny, shake of her head. “No. But it gave me a way to deal with them. It’s all about perception. If you feel like everything is terrible, then it is.” Thoughts pass over her eyes as she turns and stares ahead.

“You okay?”

“Mmm.”

Yeah, I didn’t believe that for a second. But as I go to ask her what’s on her mind the glass divider lowers. “Excuse me Mr. Cocker, is there anywhere you want to go?”

“Ha! We’re just driving around aimlessly, aren’t we? You know what, take us to the old mill in Roswell.”

Paige glances to me in surprise. “That’s not part of the contest thingy.”

“Thingy?” I smile as I dig my phone out. I’ve got text messages from Ben, Maggie and Elijah. “We’ve left that contest thingy behind a long time ago, Paige. Hang on, I have to reply to these.”

To Ben:

Of course I paid the check. I’m sneaky but I’m not a dick. You’re the dick.

To Maggie:

Date’s going better than planned. Now leave me alone.

But as I start typing a response to my brother, my thumbs won’t move until I put it on airplane mode. Guess this resentment to his not being there tomorrow night isn’t dead yet. “First time I’ve done this in months.”

“What?” Paige asks.

“Turned my phone off.” I rise off the seat to slide it into my back pocket. Meeting her eyes I hold her confused look. “You think I’m playing you?”

“Yes.”

I stare out the window wondering how to convince her. “Alright ask me anything you want.” We lock eyes and I give her a lopsided smile that I know the ladies love. “Anything you want, ask. I won’t lie.”

“When was the last time you slept with someone?”

“Can’t remember.”

“You said you wouldn’t lie!”

Adjusting in the seat I shrug, “Not lying. I never sleep with anyone. They get attached.”

She blinks as comprehension drifts in. “Oh. But I didn’t mean that. Although that’s good information because wow on so many levels. I meant sex, Gabriel.”

“Then you should have said sex.” She waits for my answer and I smirk, holding her eyes. After maybe ten seconds I lean a little closer. “I’m not answering that question.”

“You said ask anything!”

“Didn’t say I’d answer.”

She jumps in her seat. “God!”

“Too easy a joke to say, Yes?”

Stifling a laugh she side-eyeballs me. “I’m just going to assume that it was very recently that you didn’t sleep with someone, and ask you something deeper. Why did you go into music?”

“Because I had to.” Pushing my hair behind my ear I confess, “Now this I could talk about all day. If I don’t write songs I feel itchy like something’s wrong. I have to put words to the page. The melody is in my head before the lyrics sometimes. I have to sleep with a notepad by my bed because just when I’m about to fall asleep a line will come to me, and more often than not it’s so perfect I know it came from somewhere other than here.” I point to my head.

“It’s the getting quiet so you can hear that I was talking about with yoga,” she offers.

“Exactly. I related to everything you said about your practice. There’s so much noise all day long. And the chatter in here…” I jam the finger into the side of my head. “It’s so fuckin’ loud like it’s trying to keep you from creating, on purpose. Every day I have to fight this noise inside my head, get to the center of the storm so I can write what the Muse tells me to write.”

“You believe in that, in the Muse?”

“Oh yeah! You kidding? She is as real as you and me. You can’t see her but she’s always there. Ever read The War of Art?”

She tilts her head. “You mean Art of War by Sun Tzu?”

“Nah, Steven Pressfield turned it around. It’s a play on words. The War of Art is about the Resistance we all have inside us. It was written originally for artists but it applies to everyone. He says in the beginning, I think it was the prologue, that if everyone did what they wanted to do with their lives there would be no need for anti-depression meds, abuse, addiction, overeating, divorce, and the list goes on. People would be following their sense of purpose, their joys not their fears. But the Resistance is powerful. It’s the demons we all have that tell us we can’t do the thing we want to do.” Paige is really listening to what I’m saying, not just waiting for her chance to talk. I jab my head again. “I have to quiet those. They’re silent when I’m writing. When I’m onstage. When I’m in the studio recording with Uncle Jason. All their annoying chatter and bold-faced lies quiet down because they can’t fight the light. But they don’t tell you that. You feel it when you choose it.”

She’s smiling at me and my gaze drops to her lips. She’s got nothing on them, just her natural color, the skin smooth and kissable.

It’s all I can do to stay where I am.

“I’ve read the book, Gabriel.”

“Shut up.”

“I have!”

Laughing, I lean away from her. “Why’d you have me say all that then?”

“I wanted to hear what you took away from it.”

“Prove it. Tell me something I didn’t say.”

A grin flashes as she glances down. “The amount of Resistance is in direct proportion to the importance of the thing you’re meant to do.”

“You have read it! What the fuck?”

I laugh, and she joins me.

As we settle down she bites her bottom lip then shrugs, “I can be sneaky, too.”

My smile stays where it is as I watch the car head down the sharp decline into the parking lot of the mill. We’re the sole car here since the place is closed after dark. The driver slows and rolls the divider down again. “Park anywhere, Mr. Cocker?”

“Farthest in you can go.”

Edged with concern, Paige looks out the window. “We’re not supposed to be here.”

“So what? I practically lived in these hiking trails as a kid. I could show you the way with only a slivered moon in the sky. My mom took us here whenever dad was forced to work weekends and she refused to join him so we wouldn’t end up raised by a nanny. My cousins came with us a lot.”

“So…is Ben going to show up here, too?”

“Not funny,” I mutter as the car slows to a smooth stop. The driver looks at me through the rearview, silently asking if I want to open my own door again. “You learn quick. Yeah, stay there. Oh, hey, what’s your name?”

“Larry Monroe.”

“I’m Gabriel. This is Paige.”

She waves at him, “Hi.”

“You have something to keep you busy for a while, Larry?”

“Have an audiobook on phone. I’m learning how to manage my finances.”

Pursing my lips on a nod, I climb out, “Okay then, won’t worry about you.”

This time Paige slides her fingers onto my offered palm without hesitation. She stands up and is about to let go but I entwine our fingers instead and shut the door.

“You going to slap me again?”

She tightens her hold, making my heart pick up speed.

Above us moths circle the lampposts’ yellow light. The car engine turns off behind us and soon the chirping song of cicadas harmonizes from nearby trees.

“They’re so mysterious, aren’t they?” She glances up to me. “Oh, you wrote a song called Cicadas!”

“On my second album. It’s about my Uncle Jaxson and Aunt Rachel, when they were little kids and fell in love.”

“I thought it was just a sweet story for the song!”

“Nope, all true. Cool, huh? Here, I’ll climb over first.” I grab the top railing and throw my legs over the low fence that’s really more decoration than boundary.

“This isn’t going to be easy with my dress,” she mutters, climbing up.

“You’re making it look easy.”

“No way!” She laughs as she fumbles and sits sidesaddle on it.

“You are the picture of grace.”

Rolling her eyes she modestly covers herself. I slide my hands around her waist and lift her up and over, setting her onto the dirt path. She meets my eyes a moment. I have the strongest urge to kiss her.

“It’s been so stormy this week,” she laughs, starting to walk. “Glad it’s clear out.”

“Lots of stars,” I agree as I look up. Her fingers slide against mine and lock into place. It startles me that she instigated this, so I look over. She flashes a quick smile and my heart starts pounding.

“Do I hear a waterfall, Gabriel?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh you don’t, huh?”

“Nope.” Through the trees to my right comes the unmistakable, crashing cascade of a humongous waterfall. Pulling my phone out with my free hand I turn on the flashlight feature and shine a beam on the water.

Paige gasps, “It’s gorgeous!”

“Very.”

Glancing to me she tilts her head a little. “Oh, you're so smooth.”

“I’m not being smooth. Don’t you know how beautiful you are?”

Glancing away she runs self-conscious fingers through her hair as she shakes her head. “Stop it.”

“No.” I put the roar of the water behind me and tenderly cup her chin. “You going to slap me if I kiss you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well I’m going to find out,” I rasp, and lean down. Hovering near her mouth I feel the warmth of her skin. I trace my finger up her neck. She searches my eyes like she doesn’t know what to do. Our lips brush as I ask, “You ready for this?”

“Are you?”

“No, not at all.” I kiss her and feel that same crazy sensation all over again, like this is right where I’m supposed to be.

Her response is tentative at first like she thinks she should hold back. Then her arms float up, fingers gently slipping into my hair. Our jaws unlock as the kiss deepens. Only this time it isn’t for the benefit of the reporters. Nobody is here but us and I’m wondering if her pulse is racing like mine is.

Electricity shoots down my chest. I’m getting harder by the second. Hungry for more my hands slowly travel down her sides, exploring her curves. Her breath hitches as I hover near her thighs.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she breathes, letting me go.

“Fuck,” I mutter in awe as I adjust myself. She laughs like she’s embarrassed I’m fixing my erection in front of her. “What? I’m not apologizing for this. That kiss…you turn me on.”

“Gabriel…” She gives me the sweetest smile.

I pull her to me and kiss her one more time. Her tongue touches mine and suddenly I’ve got images of tearing this dress off her. I pull away and try to get ahold of myself. Under my breath I rasp, “Never felt like this. I want you so bad it’s crazy.”

“We just met!”

“Like that ever mattered before,” I chuckle, wiping my brow because I’ve begun to sweat. “I’ve fucked before I even knew first names.”

Paige mumbles, “Well, there will be plenty of girls at the concert tomorrow who will help you with that, and it won’t be me. No no no.” She smoothes her dress down, not that it needs it. She freezes as she looks up at me. “What?”

“You. Me. Out of here. We’ve gotta go.” Taking her hand I head back for the car at a fast clip.

“Slow down! I’m in heels, remember? This isn’t paved!”

“We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Why?” She tugs hard on my hand.

I whip around, pull her to me and groan as I struggle not to grind, but her hip just hit my erection and it felt way too fucking good. “I want to rip your dress, Paige, and this urge is primal and it’s strong and I need you safely back in the car now.” I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder.

“Gabriel!”

“Just be quiet. This is for your own good. I want to nail you so bad it’s killing me. But you said no. And I’m listening despite how much I want to fuck the shit out of you.”

She doesn’t make a sound the whole rest of the way.