What Part of Marine Don't You Understand - By Heather Long Page 0,18
a choice, do I?”
“No, not really. Look, you’re in Massachusetts….”
“Actually, I’m in Dallas. It’s a two-hour flight.” She checked her watch. “Let me book some tickets and I’ll text you the flight numbers. How long are we in the studio?”
“We have twelve hours. I’ve listened to what you have so far—I like it. But I’ve only got seven, what are you doing with the last three?”
That was the rub. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she wrestled a few ideas mentally. “I can write two more before then. Just get the studio time. I’ll get the tickets. I like the theme I have and I want to stay in that wheelhouse.”
“Military themes are strong and you’ve got the right jacket story for it.” Phil agreed swiftly enough to tell her she was on the right track. “You need anything?”
“No, but I don’t want to stay over. You mind if I just fly out that night?”
“If I need to pick up tracks, we’re going to have to have you back.”
“No problem.” Frankly, she had more than a few problems. But she could make it work. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“Great. Get me the rest of the songs by tomorrow. And scan in that sheet music….” He listed off a few more items before ringing off. Naomi chewed the idea around and glanced at the clock. She was usually in the park by noon at the latest. She didn’t have a lot of time to get the sheet music scanned in. Gathering her things, she called Luke Dexter’s office.
Hopefully they didn’t mind doing her a favor.
It was almost one by the time she found her way to her favorite spot. Her heart did a little skip—Matt waited for her. Relief spread through his smile when he saw her.
“I’m so sorry I’m late.”
He rose and caught the guitar case, and she gave him a quick, fierce hug. The gesture seemed to startle him, but he slid one arm around her and gave her a firm squeeze. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s great. My producer called and they moved up my recording time.” Stepping away, she dropped down to give Jethro a greeting. The dog held up his stick to her, and she threw it across the common area where he streaked after it.
“You have to leave?” His expression grew troubled.
“Thursday.” She settled on the blanket he’d spread out. She didn’t usually bother with a blanket when the grass was so soft, but he’d brought lunch again. Pleasure fluttered through her at the thoughtfulness. “But just for the day.” She hated the disappointment creasing his face. “I’ll fly out first thing in the morning. I have a four-thirty flight to Nashville. I’ll be in the studio by seven-thirty, we have twelve hours, so I should be able to make the last flight out at nine-fifteen and get to Dallas before midnight.”
It took some arm-twisting and pleading with the booking agent—not to mention cashing in more than a few of her points to get the same-day return at a price that didn’t rival the deficit.
“Thursday…wow.” Matt set the guitar next to her. “Are you going to be ready?”
“Just need to write two more songs and I’m golden.” Her words carried a lot more confidence than she felt. “Do you want to go with me?” Instantly regretting the impulsive invitation, she held her breath.
His expression shuttered. “I’d like to.” He joined her on the blanket, took the stick from Jethro, and tossed it again. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Of course it’s not a good idea. Time to throttle back the desire to blitz through his defenses. “Okay, how about I bring a copy for you? I’m sure I can bribe the technicians to give me a sample….”
A smile eased through the stress tightening his jaw and he nodded. “I’d like that.” He went silent while she unpacked the guitar and settled it in her lap. Watching him from beneath her lashes, she tried not to stare. For the most part, Matt was an upfront guy, but the quieter side of him held a certain appeal. She wished that he didn’t look like someone had just taken away his dog.
Jethro returned with his stick, but instead of offering it, he curled up next to Matt and shoved his head on his lap. The Marine began to pet him automatically, the hard line of his mouth softening with a faint curve of a smile.
“We should probably let you compose—without distraction.” He didn’t sound like