The Price of Love (Rockin' Country Book 2) (3 page)

“Goddamn, you’re a genius sometimes.” He reached over, kissing her on the cheek.

She shrugged, her eyes avoiding his. “I may have done it once or twice myself. Sometimes, as an artist, you just know. It may be the worst mistake you’ve ever made in your life, but Garrett, your fans are so rabid…they’re gonna love anything you do.”

This, right here, was exactly what he had been missing. Someone who believed in him no matter what he wanted to do, no matter how bad of a decision it might be. He needed her confidence in him. There were only so many times he and the guys could try to pump each other up—at some point, it had to come from an outside source. At that moment, he yawned loudly, his jaw cracking from the force of it.

“You tired?” she asked, reaching her hand up to cup his stubbled cheek.

“Yeah, I’ve been worried, so I haven’t been sleeping.”

Grabbing his hand, she led him through the house, to her double-headed shower, turning it on before he even had a chance to speak. “Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed.”

“At,” he checked his watch, “six o’clock?”

“We’re on our own time here.” She waved him off. “Besides, it’s been way too long since I got to sleep in your arms.”

“Tomorrow, maybe we can talk more about getting a house?”

She grinned. “Yeah, we can talk more about you buying me a house.”

The light-hearted joke did more for him than anything could have, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that working in some days off was exactly what he had needed. He vowed he would make the most of it—time with her was precious and he wasn’t going to waste it.

*  *  *

G
arrett opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. The sounds were different than those in his Huntington Beach home, and he could feel warmth beside him. He knew that was Hannah, and knowing that made him happier than he had been in weeks. It wasn’t the same without her; no matter where he was, he wanted her with him. There was a part of him that wasn’t full unless she was beside him. He felt like half of a person without her, and that scared him, but he knew that was part of giving his heart to someone else.

Rolling over, he opened his arms to her and snuggled her against him. She came willingly and gave a soft sigh of contentment as he ran his hands up and down her back. He slowly reached over, not wanting to wake her, and grabbed his cell phone. It was 5:30 a.m.; they had slept for almost twelve hours, but now he wanted to do something with her. They had few precious hours left. Clearing the sleep from his throat, he put his head next to hers and whispered.

“Babe, wake up.”

She stirred beside him, burying deeper into his body. “It’s too early,” she protested.

“But we slept for twelve hours. I don’t wanna waste any time with you. Let’s go do something.”

She sat up, huffing the whole way.

“You’re so cute,” he taunted.

“Seriously? If you’re going to get me up this early, I’m going to need a coffee.”

He laughed, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her to him. “What can we do?”

“Go get coffee.” Her eyebrows were raised, her tone smart.

“We’ll do that, but what else can we do at 5:30 in the morning. Is there a place we can go walk or something?”

Every other time he had been to Nashville, it had only been for a day at a time, and it made sense that he wanted to do something besides lie in bed with her. That didn’t mean that she wanted to do lie in bed all day either, but any other activity this early in the morning was bordering on divorce territory.

“Fine,” she sighed. “We can go run or walk at the park. Is that good for you?”

“Perfect.” He smiled brightly.

“I am going to murder you one morning, I swear,” she grumbled as she got out of the bed and walked over to her dresser.

He watched her, his gaze unabashedly running the length of her body.

“Stop ogling me and get ready.” She threw the shirt she’d slept in at him, covering his face with it as he laughed.

*     *     *

“You embarrass me,” she heaved as they ran in Centennial Park.

“Is it my tattoos?” he asked, as he looked at his bare arms in the tank top that he wore.

“No, not you embarrass me, you are embarrassing me because I’m huffing like a smoker and you’re not even winded.” She stopped for a second, putting her hand deep into her side.

“It’s because I have to work out a lot when you aren’t around. Working out wears me out enough so that I can go to sleep without you there,” he admitted to her, walking circles around her as she massaged the stitch out of her side.

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face was unmistakably tender. “Sometimes you’re too sweet for your own good,” she told him.

“Hey, just doing my job.” He held up his left hand, showing the ring that he wore. “Besides, aren’t you glad I work out for you?”

Hannah stopped heaving a moment to take in the picture that he made standing there before her. The tank top he wore was soaked with sweat from the late-summer Nashville heat, even this early in the morning; the black hat he wore backwards on his head was wet around his forehead, but little rivulets of sweat made their way down his face and to the strong column of his throat. His skin was red with exertion, but that caused his tattoos to stand out in stark relief, and her eyes immediately searched out his newest one, a musical note on his left bicep that intertwined with a script H. That was hers and hers only. His black athletic shorts hung low on his hips, causing her to lick her lips. She was pretty sure she looked like she’d just run a marathon while he looked lickable.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am. I only wish I look as hot as you do working out,” she grumbled.

“If you could only see what I see.” He caught her around the waist and spun them around in a circle, causing her to squeal.

It was so different here; he realized it each time he came to Nashville. There were people who saw them together and asked for a picture or autograph, sometimes they took pictures of the two of them, but those people never invaded their space. They didn’t have to be quiet so that others wouldn’t know that they were there. They could be just like any other newlywed couple. He was thankful that she was able to give them this experience. He knew they wouldn’t be able to have it in California. There were too many people there that made their money off invading others’ privacy.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he gripped her hips, his fingers tickling her sides. “Stop,” she laughed, trying to get away from him.

“Well if it isn’t the hottest married couple in the world right now,” a voice said behind them.

Garrett didn’t know who the man was that ran in place behind them, but he was interested as to why he felt the need to come up and talk to them.

Hannah laughed, smiling as she turned around. “Hey, Bryson.” She reached over, giving him a friendly hug.

Bryson. Garrett had heard that name more than a few places. This was one of the new hotshot country rockers that liked to wear tattoos and piercings just like he did. He’d actually listened to a few of the other man’s songs and he liked them, but he did not like the way Bryson watched his wife.

“Garrett, please meet Bryson Grant, the next big thing in outlaw country.”

Garrett put his arm protectively around Hannah, pulling her closer to him before offering his hand. “What’s up? I’m Garrett.”

“Nice to meet you.” He pumped Garrett’s hand enthusiastically. “I’m a huge Black Friday fan. It’s an honor, man.”

“Thanks, I’ve heard a few of your songs, I like what you have going on.”

Hannah looked between the two of the, not liking the way Garrett’s body stiffened and the way he gripped her harder against him.

“Well, it was really good to see you, Bryson.” She smiled at her friend. “But we need to go get some breakfast, I’m starving.”

“See ya around, Hannah.” He waved as he jogged in the opposite direction.

She eyed Garrett closely. “There is no reason in this world for you to be jealous. He and I are friends that go way back. I mean, we went to high school together. That’s how far back it goes,” she told her husband, putting her arms around his waist.

His mind told him that she was right, there was no reason for him to be jealous; she loved him, there was no doubt in his mind that she loved him. It ticked him off that he couldn’t be with her all the time when there were a million other men that could.

“High school, huh?” he asked as they made their way to the car.

“Yes, he saw me in all my awkwardness. There is no way he would ever have any inkling of a reason to want me,” she laughed.

“Now that’s a fuckin’ lie.” Garrett shook his head. “You’re hot, regardless of what you think.”

She screwed her mouth up at his language. “C’mon, feed me, I’m hungry.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him back to their car.

Garrett cranked up the AC when they got back to the car as the two of them sat, cooling off and gulping down water. “You are hot, ya know?” he told her, turning so that they could face one another.

“So are you, but that doesn’t mean I can get jealous of every girl that takes a picture with you or knows your real name. Once I do that, I give them power.” She pointed to a group of people that had cameras trained on them.

“At least they’re not real paparazzi,” he told her as he reached over and cupped her chin in his hand. Their lips met in a kiss that meant everything in the world to both of them.

No one would be able to break the bond they had unless they gave someone else power. It would be something that they would have to constantly remind themselves, they both knew it and at the same time knew they couldn’t forget it.

*  *  *

“I
don’t care. I hate the idea,” Hannah argued with Shell as they sat in the recording studio, going over new songs for the day’s recording session.

Garrett had left the day before, and Hannah had been in a foul mood since. They’d managed to look at a few houses together, but even thinking back to that experience wasn’t making her happy.

Shell shook her head. “Bryson is the hottest thing going right now besides you. It would do you both good to record a duet together.”

“The only duet I want to record is going to be with my husband, please understand that. I wrote this song for him, I can’t sing this with someone else.” Hannah hitched her chin up at a stubborn angle.

“Well, you learned the fucking chin hitch from him, I’ll give you that.” Shell blew out a frustrated breath. “Do you want to be labeled as someone difficult to work with?”

“No,” Hannah cried. “What I want is to for everyone else to take my marriage as seriously as I take it,” she yelled before getting up and slamming out of the studio.

She quickly walked to the exit and out into the night. She had a seat on the curb and looked down at her cell phone. She calculated the time difference in California and hit a button on her pre-sets.

“Hey, babe.” His voice was smooth and deep as it came over the phone.

“Hey.” She sniffed, not even sure why she was crying. She was so mad.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.