mistakes. Or maybe we weren’t ready to.” She wanted to stay awake but it had been a long few days of writing and not writing, arguing, making love, and running around town. She couldn’t resist the lure of sleeping curled up skin to skin with Chance.
He gave her the softest kiss. “Goodnight, baby. Today was a good day.”
She might have murmured a response back, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she said anything out loud or not.
When she woke up the next day, Chance’s arm was still around her. It felt like a dream.
But then his eyes opened and he squinted at her. “Now that’s the best way to wake up--seeing your beautiful face.”
Then he kissed her.
No dream. This was all real.
Thirteen
Back when they’d been on tour, Chance had established a pre-concert tradition with Jolene. She remembered he had started it in Atlanta, and every night after that he came in to her dressing room to talk to her, and when she wasn’t looking, he left a doodle and a note by the mirror where she’d be sure to see it. The first note had been just a heart drawn on a cocktail napkin and she had been unable to prevent herself from smiling when she’d seen it. It had been the night after they’d had sex for the first time, and she’d been feeling unsure of what came next. That simple note had made her feel amazing. Lucky. Then he’d started to expand on content, leaving her lyrics, comments about how stunning she always looked, or sly references to their sex life.
She had every one of those notes tucked into a box that she had hidden in the back of her closet. It wasn’t a store-bought keepsake box. It was the box that her one and only new pair of shoes as a child had come in. Mama had taken her to the discount store in Ashland and she’d picked out light-up sneakers that had been marked down. Since everything else she’d ever worn had been gotten at a garage sale or church donation bin, Jolene had gloried in those shoes. Even Daddy’s anger with her mother for spending the money hadn’t diminished the joy she’d felt every time she carefully removed those shoes from the box and laced them up.
The shoes had eventually disappeared after her mother’s failed attempt at washing them, and Jolene’s fifth grade growth spurt. But she’d always kept that box as a reminder never to forget where she’d come from and how to appreciate what she had. It had seemed the right place to store the miscellaneous notes of affection from Chance.
When he left one by the coffeepot two days later while she had still been sleeping, Jolene lifted it and held it to her chest.
It said, “I love you,” and the words, written in his tight handwriting, on the back of a receipt for gas, meant everything to her. It made her feel like her heart was damn near bursting and she stood there, grinning, feet bare, and a hair a mess. Chance was in the other room grabbing his guitar and she tucked his note into her bra, glancing behind her to make sure he didn’t pop up and see what she was doing. He didn’t know if she kept the notes or not. They’d never talked about it.
She poured a cup of coffee, and went to the refrigerator for the cream, hugging herself. Maybe she should tell him. Hell, maybe he needed the reassurance she appreciated him. Funny that had never occurred to her before.
“Come on, girl,” she told Dolly, who was watching her intently. “Let’s go outside.”
Jolene poured cream in her coffee, stirred, then opened the back door and went out into the warm, sunny morning. She was just sitting on the back patio watching Dolly destroy a stick she’d found, and sipping her coffee when Chance came back out in nothing but his jeans and a smile. He hadn’t even bothered to snap his pants and it was the sexiest damn thing ever. He tossed his hair out of his eyes and dropped a kiss on her head before sliding into the chair next to her. He didn’t have his guitar, which was what he had gone for. She should say something. Admonish him. Insist they work. But she didn’t want to disturb the calm she was feeling, so instead she just closed her eyes and enjoyed the sun on her face.
They had been creatively avoiding songwriting by spending