Blurring the Lines (8 page)

“Just came to drop off Corinne’s cell phone.”

Oh. Shit.

“I’m sure this whole situation feels a little...strange,” Chris said. “But I know she needs to be home with Jonah, and I really needed her help.” He sounded so damn sincere, and he was. But her mom was sure to have an opinion.

“And I’m sure you’re paying her well.” Her mother sounded...okay. There were none of the impatient or suspicious undertones that normally rested in her mother’s voice, even though checking in on Chris could be the
only
reason her mother was there after her visit that afternoon. Normally her mother set her phone aside and waited for Corinne to find time to drive down.

“Absolutely,” Chris answered.

She jogged down the stairs, heart thumping, her wet hair bouncing behind her. “Hey, Mom. I wasn’t aware you were coming over.”

Her mother always looked
strange in her house—too neat and tidy for the worn interior.

Corinne paused at the bottom of the stairs and Jonah held up an airplane. “Check it out! And we did two puzzles!”

“That’s...great.” Corinne smiled and wanted to flash a glance to see how Chris was dealing, but kept her eyes on her mother.

“Jonah. I’m headed to Heather’s. Wanna come?”
And help me get Grandma out of the house? And hope Heather is still home?

“No, thanks,” Jonah said. “Chris is teaching me to build paper airplanes.”

“Oh.” She glanced toward her Mom. “Would you like to walk with me?”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed just enough that Corinne knew she was very aware that she was being ushered out.

“It was great to finally meet you, Ms. Bailey.” Chris shook her mother’s hand, and Corinne was still attempting to pull in a deep breath.

She grabbed her coat, tried not to panic over the relationship Jonah was maybe forming with Chris and what her mother thought of this very bizarre situation and stepped onto the porch.

Her mother walked out behind her and Corinne turned, bracing herself.

“He’s much more polite than I would have thought.” Her mom smiled and started for her car.

“That’s it?” Corinne asked as she followed her mother across the driveway.

“I can’t stop you from falling in love or getting your heart broken. He does seem nice. Jonah really likes him… Just…” Her mother paused next to the car. “He assured me that you two were just friends, and I know I’m not going to tell you anything you don’t already know, but Jonah has lost too many people in his life to lose another. Don’t move forward unless you’re sure about moving forward.”

Corinne pressed her fingers into her eyes. “Mom, I don’t…”

Her mom patted her shoulder. “Just think with your head first.”

And with that, her mother slid into her car and drove away.

Think with my head first? What on earth is that even supposed to mean?

Spinning on her heel, she started for Heather’s house, but what was she even going to tell her? And Heather might have already left for her meeting anyway. Maybe it wasn’t a good day to visit her friend. Instead, Corinne moved for the old four-wheeler trail and started walking on the smooth clay. Water droplets dripped from the pine trees after the misty rain that afternoon, and the silence helped calm her heart. Three minutes up the trail, and thoughts slid into her brain one after another.

Should she be home?

Were they okay?

Should she be
limiting the amount of time Jonah and Chris were together?

Should she call her mom to try and explain better?

Well, hell. Corinne let out a sigh and moved through the frost grass back to her cabin.

So much for clearing her head.

Corinne’s mom had been...surprising. The women were built similarly, though Corinne’s body was a bit leaner with all the yoga. But the thought of the wild curly hair and worn jeans of Corinne coming from the pressed pants and patent shoes of her mother was just…off.

And Corinne obviously didn’t want them all chatting together, which should have been fine. It might just be another part of Corinne’s life that she didn’t plan on letting him in on.

He did the final fold on another airplane and let it fly across the room making Jonah clap again. Chris grinned. He glanced back at the two puzzles they’d done, which felt like a million days with his dad. It was so easy to keep Jonah happy. He wanted time, and when he wasn’t frantic, that’s exactly what Chris had to give.

Airplanes littered the small coffee table, the floor, and the couch. “We should probably start picking up our mess.”

Jonah grabbed a plane by the bottom and ran for the kitchen making the same engine-in-flight sounds Chris had as a child. “In a minute!”

Corinne stepped back inside, running her hands through her hair. Her eyes focused on her shoes and on the hook on the wall where she hung her coat.
Her mouth was tight, and he wanted to know what she was thinking.

“Sorry,
” she said.

“Sorry for what?” he asked.

“I’m sure my mom had a hundred questions for you.” She sighed.

“It’s fine. Of course she did. She’s your mother.” Chris crossed the room and leaned against the back of the couch facing Corinne. “How’s Heather?”

“I didn’t go.” She pushed out a breath.

“Hey…” Chris reached out, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. “You okay?”

Corinne’s brown eyes found his and she shrugged. “Weird day.”

Weird? It was more than that. Chris reached out and slowly pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry if my being here is causing you stress.”

She felt like a board next to him, and Chris ran his hand up and down her back, wishing she’d relax against him. “It’s fine.”

“Corinne,” he started, but didn’t know what to say. How could he help if he wasn’t sure why she was upset? “Relax. Please.”

He felt her body move with an exhale and she half melted into him. Chris breathed in the smell of her shampoo and felt again how her body fit perfectly against his, and wondered if there might be any chance of being with her for real.

EIGHT

Chris took another long drink of water as he pushed out the door of the small sound booth. Recording was a lot more fun high.
He was spent. The dark rooms with the sound panels felt suffocating, even though he’d been in what felt like a million others. His home studio had spoiled him.

“Sounded great, Mr. Meyer.” Josh, the owner, gave him a too-big smile. “I’ll get this down to your sound guy right away. We have this system that works really well for downloading files this massive with no degradation, and—”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you.” Chris nodded and thanked Josh again, and Josh edged a few more photos across the counter making Chris smile, despite how tired he was.

He took the pen from Josh’s hand and signed the photos. Pictures from years ago. A lifetime ago.

“Thank you, again,” Josh said. “It’s a big deal here. You are, I mean.”

“Well.” Chris sighed as he clutched his guitar. “Le
t’s hope people don’t think the new music is total shit.”

Josh laughed a squeaky, nervous laugh. “Well, I think it’s great, but we both know what assholes people tend to be.”

Yeah. Chris knew.

The fall air bit into him as he jogged to the crap rental car he’d been driving and he headed back to Corinne’s.

Seven days. That’s how long he’d been in her house. The strangest part about it was that it wasn’t strange. He left Seattle behind him and drove up I-90 into Snoqualmie Pass—the busy roadways and buildings giving way to tall trees and steep hills. He became lighter knowing he was going to be in her house soon. Sitting on the couch strumming on his guitar while Jonah did homework.

Corinne had taught a few extra yoga classes with him around to watch Jonah, and he even liked just hanging with the kid.

But at night, once Jonah went to bed, they talked music. His lyrics. His plan. His excitement. She had yet to open up about anything, and he’d all but given up asking questions. Still… The routine of normal mixed with his chaos felt right in a way he never saw coming.

His small car slowed as he drove up Corinne’s long, windy, driveway and he wondered again what had driven her so far off the beaten path. At least he was finally here and could put his feet up for a while.

He pushed open the car door and glanced at his phone. Just after dinner. A few banging sounds came from the far side of the house and Chris moved past the front porch and toward the noise. Massive pine trees towered above him, once again making him feel small. But he didn’t mind feeling insignificant—it was an odd sort of relief.

Once he reached the corner of the house,
he was stopped by a massive pile of logs that reached nearly as high as his head. “Corinne?”

“Back here!” she call
ed and he moved around the woodpile.

Her face was flushed, sweat tinged her brow, and she moved a stack of logs from the pile into a makeshift shed
made of two by fours and a tarp.

“What are you doing?” he asked
stupidly.

She set the logs down in a neat stack and then stepped back out of the shed and started filling her arms again. “Stacking logs. And burning off excess energy.”

He watched her set down the next set of logs in her arms before he stepped forward. “Let me help.”

“No, no.” She waved him away. “You’re paying me to basically be your muse. You’re not hauling wood.”

Chris scoffed. “I’m certainly not going to stand here while you haul wood.”

That had been the dreaded chore when he was a kid. It was either raining and miserable, or the log pile was so filled with spiders that it made him shiver even now.

Corinne paused at the edge of her shed, her eyes on Chris first and then the massive pile of logs in front of her. “This can be your payment for today then.” She reached inside the small building and tossed him a pair of leather gloves.

Chris nodded, and he opened his mouth to make a joke but she was tired, and obviously in the work-zone so he just followed her lead.

Trip after trip Chris made from the woodpile into the shed, and while the shed seemed to fill fairly quickly, the woodpile hadn’t shrank nearly enough.

“How long will this last you?” he asked as he gasped for air, loading up his arms, and wondering how long she’d been doing this when he arrived.

“In the winter? A couple months. Three if I’m lucky.” She passed him in the doorway as he stepped back inside the shed and she moved back out. “Depends on the weather.”

He set down his latest pile and waited for Corinne to step back inside. Only a few months? Did she normally do this
alone
?

“This is a lot of work.” He stared, Corinne once again
appearing so much stronger, smarter and more capable than he felt.

“Yes it is.” She tapped his shoulder with a smile. “I’m going to call it a night before my arms fall off. Jonah’s at Heather’s, so I’m gonna go pick him up, okay?”

“I’ll walk with you.” And he started on the path before letting her say no. “We haven’t talked about specific amounts. You know, that I’m paying you.”

“I’m sure you and Max will come up with something that’s fair, and if it doesn’t feel fair, I’ll let you know. He called by the way.”

“How did that go?” Chris asked.

Corinne chuckled. “Fine. I told him I was fine and that you were
behaving yourself. He’s been texting more often than normal.”

“Sounds…” Not at all like Max, aside from this bizarre side of Max that came out around Corinne. “Sounds like him,” he finished.

“Max is a good guy.”

He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a smile as they walked back around the house. “There was part of me that expected you to put up a fight about being paid for this. I would have paid you anyway, but still.”

“Better to keep this” —she gestured between them with a gloved hand— “professional.”

“Am I that bad?” he asked. Chris slowed until they walked side by side on the narrow path.

She stared at her feet as she slowed. “No.”

“Frustrating?”

She was so forward and vocal with anything that wasn’t remotely personal.

A corner of her mouth tugged upward. “Sometimes.”

They walked a few steps in silence, and Chris had to lighten the mood somehow. “Was our night together that bad?”

“The opposite, actually…”

Was she actually, finally admitting it was maybe as good as he thought it was? Chris stopped on the trail.

“So wait.” He rubbed his forehead. “Me paying you will help keep this professional, which you really want.”

She turned and faced him. “Yes.”

“Only we get along, even in close quarters. We write together. We’re pretty damn sexually compatible. And you’re not even sure you want to be friends?” he asked, realizing only then that he felt very much like the last kid picked for a team in gym.

She folded her arms in an almost protective posture. “It’s not who you are, it’s
what
you are.”

He took a few steps closer as his heart hollowed. “Wait, wait, wait… I’ll never get a chance at anything but a professional business relationship because of my job?”

His breath stuck in his lungs as Corinne shifted her weight a few times.

Corinne’s arms tightened around her front. “Yes.”

Yes? That was it. Total dismissal, and… He blinked. Blinked again. Even though she hadn’t shared much of her past with him, every night they talked lyrics. Every night she sat next to him and helped him with word choice, with chords, riffs, intros… How could she not give him any kind of chance?

His mouth dried out and all the work from the day hurt his head and his arms and his legs, and holy hell he wanted a drink or anything to numb any part of him from the thought that she wouldn’t even entertain the i
dea of friendship. What was he doing?

Her mouth opened like she was going to say something but no words came. Chris stepped back once, and Corinne held still.

“I need to make a call.” Chris spun on his heel and dialed his sponsor as he moved toward Corinne’s house. Did he walk away? Or fight? At that moment, he hoped his sponsor wouldn’t answer so he could dig through her pantry and try to find...anything to drink or swallow that might take him out of this world for a while. How had he gotten to this place so fast? Both of really liking her, and really not caring so much about the days of sobriety he’d racked up.

Corinne watched Chris’ shoulders fall as he moved for her house. He was a mess. He didn’t know what he wanted for himself or what he was asking of her.

Yes. Because she hadn’t told him about what she was running from.

This wasn’t supposed to be so complicated. She was supposed to go to California, help some just-out-of-rehab star write a few songs and then go home. That’s it. She wasn’t supposed to feel any kind of connection with him—good dancer or not. Similar ideas about music and lyrics or not. Great in bed, or not.

Chris jogged up the steps to the house and she headed toward Heather’s. She was definitely ready for some time with her friend.

“Seven days, Corinne.” Heather shook her head on the porch, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “What are you two doing?” Her brows waggled.

Corinne let out a long breath before climbing Heather’s porch stairs. Everywhere Corinne’s house was small, Heather’s was large. Sprawling porch, vast windows, two big stories and a daylight basement. But she had a husband with a solid job and three kids she needed room for.

“He came to write and he’s writing. So, I guess it’s working. Once he has enough down that he feels confident he can put together his album, he’ll be done and he’ll go home.” Corinne pulled her coat more tightly around her and sat on the frosty lawn furniture Heather still had on her porch.

Heather slumped in defeat. “Man, I was really, really hoping for some dirty details.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” She blinked and once again felt the way he’d grasped her waist in his room, laid her on the bed…
She had to stop.

Heather rolled her e
yes. “You’re not nearly sorry enough for disappointing me.”

“No. I’m not.” She couldn’t take the complication.

Heather sat next to her. “But that’s just crazy, Corinne. I get that with your past, you’d be more careful, but Christian Meyer isn’t the same guy as the one who screwed you over.”

“No. He’s an
exact copy
aside from looks. Everything else is the same.”

Heather folded her arms, so Corinne gave her the list. “Broken. Unable to write. Mega-famous and probably has slept with more women than… than I’d ever want to know about. Wants me as a friend. Tells me he couldn’t do this alone. Tells me I’m saving him. No one understands him like me. Wants me as more…”

Heather quickly leaned forward. “
Does
Chris want more? Has he said those things to you?”

Had he? What had he
just been asking for on the trail? Really, just friendship. How big an idiot was she? Maybe she was closing herself off for no real reason.

Corinne sat stunned for a moment about Chris maybe
not
wanting more than friendship. “Actually. I don’t know.”

Shifting the mug in her hands, Heather smirked. “So. Let’s not put words in the poor guy’s mouth then.”

“Yeah. I guess.” But the thought of him
not
wanting more left her feeling...less…
Oh. No.

Heathers arms came around her from the side. “I know that look. Let me know if you need anything.”

Corinne shook her head, hoping to push away some of the new feelings. “Yeah. Okay. Tell Dan I said hi next time you two chat.”

“If you’re okay with
Christian Meyer
hanging with us for a girls’ movie night, I’d like to know…”

Corinne snorted. Only Heather could dispel some of the awkward tension with something as simple as a movie night. “Will do.”

“And Jonah’s already home.” She pointed to Corinne’s house. “He went on the back trail.”

“Oh.” Corinne pushed off the frosty furniture. “I should go rescue Chris then.”

“Yeah.” Heather gave her a mischievous smile. “You do that.”

Corinne had been quiet through dinner and through putting Jonah
to bed, and all Chris could do was watch. Well...and text Max about a million times to keep him from coming up and dragging Chris away. Texts were better than Max’s pissed off voice over the phone.

“So.” Corinne sat on the floor in front of the fire and Chris pulled his feet onto the couch.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Play for me?” she asked.

“Why don’t you play for me?” he suggested.

“Okay.” She reached out for his guitar. “Hand it over. Yours is nicer than mine.”

He slid off the couch and joined her next to the fire wondering if whatever happened on the trail was going to drive some kind of wedge between them. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”