Stripped Love (Guys Next Door #1) - Baylin Crow Page 0,34

right? Or am I just making that up?"

He was only echoing my earlier musings, but still, the flutter worsened. "Yeah, they have."

"Why?" His hazel eyes glittered in the dark. "Did I do something?"

Thrown off slightly, I quickly shook my head. "No…it was me. My…friends, CJ and Caleb." I sighed, and my shoulders hunched as I curled forward. "I told them about you, and they asked if I was okay with you being a stripper—because of the guys, you know."

Phoenix closed his eyes, and his forehead bunched. "I didn't even think about that being an issue. I don't really…date."

I waved the comment away. "No, it's just that I thought they had a point when they said I needed to be sure. I told them it was a little premature, but I couldn't get it out of my head," I admitted.

He picked at invisible lint on his jeans, avoiding looking at me. "And? What's the verdict?"

My gaze drifted to the sky and the faint stars beyond the outer-city smog. "I don't, and won't, like it."

Phoenix cleared his throat and shifted next to me. "Fair enough."

His voice was rough, as if speaking was a challenge, and I hurried to finish my explanation. "But if it were to ever get to the point that I'd have to decide whether I could live with it—I trust you. So yeah, I could."

Strong fingers gripped my chin and Phoenix forced me to look at him. "It's fast, I know. But we are at that point. Or at least I am."

My heart hammered against my ribcage. "I…"

He lips tilted in a crooked grin. "I'm not proposing, Arch. Breathe." A whoosh of air I hadn't realized I'd been holding rushed from my lungs, and his grin broadened. "But I'm not going to pretend that I don't want to see where this goes either."

I blinked. "Well, okay then."

"Okay?" He leaned in and dusted his lips over mine, and I nodded as I pressed closer, parting my lips. "I've created a monster," he mumbled against my mouth and pulled back.

An exasperated sigh rattled in my chest. "You're always pushing me away."

Phoenix chuckled. "Believe me, I'll be taking a quick rain check on that kiss. But I have something I wanted to tell you, and I don't really talk about it anymore."

Worried, I shuffled around to where I was facing him. "You can tell me anything."

He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he considered me. Finally, he relaxed. "I know and that's why I wanted to see you." I waited patiently for him to continue as he dropped his gaze to his rings he began twisting around his fingers.

"Two years ago," he began. "Well, a little more than that now…I lived in Nashville. The pictures on my wall weren't just bands I met because I was a fan. I mean, I was…but I was always trying to make connections."

"Connections?" I tried to catch his gaze and finally he looked at me.

Phoenix’s eye held a note of sadness that clutched my heart. "I saved up to buy that guitar in my living room and then packed up nothing but my clothes, phone and charger. I moved into a small loft I shared with two other artists. During the day I worked at both a diner, bussing tables, and a record store, selling old vinyls." He rubbed his palms along his thighs. "And then at night, I'd be holed up in my room or the park…anywhere I could write. I submitted my songs anywhere and everywhere I could. Even performed my songs for a while, hoping I'd get a lucky break." Stroking his bottom lip, he murmured, "Me and everyone else."

I processed what he'd said, imagining him on stage singing for an audience as he played the guitar I'd seen so many times. "So, you were trying to make it as a singer-songwriter?"

He shook his head slightly. "Not really. I just wanted to write the lyrics. I mean, I liked to sing, but funny thing…" He scoffed and raised his brows at me. "I wasn't a huge fan of performing on stage. The irony, yeah?"

My lips twitched, caught between amusement and disappointment for him. "What happened?"

Phoenix swallowed audibly, and I tensed when he sniffed before clearing his throat. A bad feeling wouldn’t budge from my gut. “My mom got sick and asked me to come home. The bank was threatening foreclosure—I didn't even know she was sick. I hadn't been home in six months at that time and she…didn't look like my