It wasn’t until she dropped down onto the sofa, and I got a whiff of her brown sugar body wash and saw that her red hair was still damp, that I realized what had held her up. It was still early in the afternoon, so I figured she must have just woken up.
The only time I got her out of bed before noon was when Rich or I coaxed her out of it since Loren was no better. He was worse, actually. Today was the exception, and I had the feeling he’d woken up early in the hopes of catching her roaming instead of knocking on her door and apologizing.
She felt his stare even now and ignored him. Loren was burning a hole in the side of her face, but Braxton kept her gaze steadfast on her purple nails that my back knew were as sharp as they looked, along with the ten silver rings adorning the index, middle, and ring finger of her left hand.
Deciding to break the silence, I handed over the notepad with the current version of one of our new songs scratched onto the paper.
“What do you think?” I asked, watching her closely after she finally took it from me. My heart was pounding as Braxton read over the lyrics, and I didn’t have to question why. It seemed like it took an eternity for her to be done even though less than a minute had passed.
“I think finding a melody is going to be tricky.”
Damn it.
She’d chosen her tone and expression carefully so that I couldn’t tell what she was really thinking. The only evidence that she was feeling anything at all were the subtle cues she gave, like the slight wrinkling of her nose and purse of her lips as if she tasted or smelled something unexpected.
Nodding, I picked up the acoustic next to me, and her brows shot up when I held it out to her. “Would you prefer a keyboard?”
She continued to gape. “You want me to write the melody?”
“No, this is a guitar, and that’s my song in your lap,” I answered sarcastically. “I thought we’d knit.”
Lifting the notepad, it slapped my chest when she tossed it at me as she stood. Jericho caught her, which I’m sure was more of an excuse to touch her after so long than as a favor to me, and kept her from leaving.
“He’s sorry, I’m sorry, we’re all sorry,” he told her sincerely when she was seated next to me again.
Refusing to look at him, she flipped him off, surprising everyone in the room except Braxton. She’d never given him more than her silence, which rarely lasted long when she was upset with him. Loren and I usually bore the brunt of her wrath.
Jericho tried to nix it off, only to end up looking like his dog died. I refrained from laughing since Braxton would no doubt assume it was directed at her.
“I’ll create the melody,” I pretended to concede after picking up the fallen notepad.
I could see in her eyes that she wanted to do it, possibly since the moment she read the first line, but she was too stubborn to let go of her pride. I was starting to wonder if she’d picked up that trait from her conservative upbringing or if she came by it honestly.
Handing her the notepad again, I hid my surprise when she took it. “Sing it how you think it should sound,” I requested when she just stared at me.
Braxton had a powerful voice, and even though I should be used to it by now, I was always eager to hear it again.
I waited patiently as she silently read over it again, creating a natural rhythm for the verses, chorus, and bridge in her mind before she began. I listened, hopelessly enthralled, as she tried it a second and third time out loud. She shifted her tone and pitch, speeding up and slowing down her pace when needed until it flowed like water from her lips.
“That was good,” I praised as casually as I could manage. Clearing my throat, I lifted the guitar. “Let’s try that again. I’ll do backup.”
She did without argument, singing much slower this time as I tried to find the right chords to match the rhythm she set. We ran through it numerous times until it started to feel cohesive.
“Again,” I said the moment we finished our fourth attempt. It almost sounded like a plea. They might have been my