I SMILE—AGAIN—as I gaze out the window, admiring the clouds that cover the sky beneath me. I haven’t been able to stop smiling since dad dropped me off at the airport. When I caught sight of this private jet, I can’t deny that I felt like someone important, knowing it was going to be my ride to Nashville. As horrible as it might sound, the thought of traveling in such luxury made it a little easier to say goodbye to my old man.
I’ve been feeling guilty all week about leaving him to deal with the shop over the long weekend. He won’t be by himself, a truth he’s reminded me of repeatedly, but Ruth—as sweet as she is—isn’t exactly our star employee. She can make a cup of coffee just fine, but she’s not nearly as helpful as Corie was. And Ruby, Ruth’s little sister, has more focus, but she’s a bit of a klutz. With me gone, that means more work for dad over the next few days. Nevertheless, he pushed me out the door anyway, and there was only so much I could resist. I haven’t seen Corie in months.
It’s strange to think that this is how she lives now—strange and exhilarating. It’s one thing to hear about it, to see her face on the front of magazine covers, or even to see her picture appear on a celebrity gossip site after a night out with her man; but it’s another thing entirely to experience it. Corie left Dillon, Colorado months ago, and she hasn’t looked back. I wouldn’t either, if Ashley Hicks—one of the biggest names on the music scene today—came and swept me off my feet. Sometimes, it still amazes me that he was a frequent guest at the coffee shop for weeks without either of us recognizing him. Though, in a way, I think it was meant to be. For both of them. She got to see his sweet, down-to-earth, gentleman charm, and he got to see her endearing, lovely, brave personality, neither of them factoring in such things as fame and fortune as they explored their feelings for one another.
If I allowed myself to be, this plane ride—this taste of the life she now lives—it would have me drowning in envy. She now enjoys a fabulous life filled with love and adventures. Granted, it’s not all sunshine and daisies. The struggle for privacy is a real thing for her these days; but that’s just a byproduct of her fairytale ending. And honestly? She deserves the fairytale—without my judgment or my envy, she deserves it. The woman she is, the hard work she’s put in so that she could escape our small town, and the life that she’s had to endure with my uncle—her alcoholic father—it’s just proof that it was her time. Some good was due her, and Ashley is that good. The truth is, I’m too busy being excited for her to envy her, and that’s the way I like it. Besides, as her cousin/best friend, her new status means I get to enjoy a little extravagance, too.
When Ashley contacted me about flying out to Tennessee, in order to surprise Corie for her birthday weekend, I agreed without even thinking about it. I miss that girl, and it’s about time we graduated from phone calls and text messages in order to catch up. I’m sure the weekend ahead of us is going to be amazing. With not much opportunity to travel, this is my first time ever leaving the state of Colorado. I’m looking forward to getting the chance to explore someplace new and foreign to me. I’m also anxious to spend time, not just with Corie, but with Ashley, too. He’ll be family soon—which still blows my mind—and having not spent a ton of time with him before, I’d like to see for myself how happy he makes Corie. Then again, considering the fact that I’m sitting in a quiet, private jet, headed for the airport where I’m to meet up with my best friend, I think it’s safe to say that it’s pretty clear—he’s absolutely worthy of her.
AS SOON AS the side door pops open, the stairs easing their way down onto the tarmac, I jog the distance between the limousine and the jet. With instructions to escort Corie’s cousin back to the vehicle, my mind is focused on the task at hand. I have no idea what to expect when she steps out of the plane, but that matters little.
Fourth of July weekend in Ashley’s home town means I have to be extra vigilant. It’s my job to make sure that he can go where he wants, when he wants, with no concern for his safety. He’s not a small guy himself, but the paparazzi, his fans—his fame is why I’m employed. Holiday weekends mean more activity, bigger crowds, and higher chances of Ashley being recognized—especially here in Nashville. With a reputation like his, it’s pretty standard for him to be spotted just about anywhere we go. When he’s home, I like to stay sharp.
That’s why, when I reach the foot of the stairs, looking up just as she starts her descent, I mutter a curse under my breath. She’s fucking gorgeous. Too gorgeous. Distractingly gorgeous. It’s been a while since I’ve had pussy, but this weekend is not the weekend to be tempted—and Corie’s cousin, her fucking cousin, is not the chick to fuck with. Though, the closer she gets, the more my dick would like to argue that fact.
While Corie isn’t what I’d consider tall, she is above average height for a woman; her body is curvy and voluptuous, her eyes a distinct brown, and her hair a few shades darker. The woman before me is different. Incredibly, stunningly different. By my guess, she’s no taller than five-four, a little more than a foot shorter than me. Her body looks pliable. She’s thin, yet toned—delicate and petite—and her hair is some sort of ashy blonde, grown out long and flowing halfway down her back. When she looks straight at me, taking her last step onto the ground, I bite back another curse at the sight of her big, blue eyes.
Dangerously adorable.
Fuck.
“Um, hi,” she murmurs, reaching up to sweep a bit of hair behind her ears. “Are you Leo?”
I offer her no more than a curt nod, my attention jerking back up the staircase as the pilot descends with a small piece of luggage. “This your only bag?”
“Yeah. Well, and my backpack,” she replies, twisting around slightly to show me.
“I’ll take both.”
“Oh, well, you don’t have to. I—”
“It’s all right,” I insist, gently slipping the strap from off of her shoulder. Stepping around her, I reach to take hold of her suitcase from the pilot as well.
“Thank you,” she murmurs sheepishly. “I’m Jill, by the way.”
I meet her eyes once more, and the way she looks up at me—her cheeks tinted in a soft blush—I have to concentrate to keep my dick from growing hard. I dip my chin in acknowledgment of her introduction, but I say nothing in reply before I start leading the way to the limo. “This way,” I instruct.
She hurries alongside of me, and we cross the distance in silence. The fact that she doesn’t chatter on incessantly only makes me like her more. I wish she’d give me some reason to stay away from her. I’m already starting to forget the reasons I insisted on myself.
Upon reaching the limo, I step aside, allowing her full access to the back passenger-side door. She looks up at me in silent question, and I tell her, “Go ahead.”
She grins at me before she reaches for the handle, and I clench my jaw as I pull in a slow, deep breath.
“Surprise!” she calls out, her body bent as she peers inside of the vehicle. For a moment, I hear nothing—then Jill demands, “Babe, stop crying and hug me!”
Corie squeals in excitement before I see her come crawling out of the door, wrapping her arms around Jill obediently. I watch as they embrace each other, both of them responding with tears and laughter, and I get what I asked for—a reason to stay away from her. The way they’re responding to one another, it speaks of a bond that’s deep and a connection that’s real. It tells me that she comes from a home that knows affection, kindness, and love.
Jill is not a woman you fuck. She’s a woman you cherish—and I can’t fucking do that.
I clear my throat, turning my gaze from them, but my eyes only look away for a second. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t take my attention off of her. When Jill pulls away from Corie, she looks right at me, brushing her fingers against her cheeks in an attempt to dry them as she murmurs an apology.
“Take your time,” I assure her, not wishing to rob her of anything.
She turns her back to me, Corie following suit, and I carry Jill’s bags to the trunk. Stowing them with the rest of our luggage, I remind myself that I’m not good for her. I need to stay away. I’m not a tender man, and she appears to be a gentle woman. Oil and water don’t mix.