Love Songs (9 page)

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. His grandmother never even washed his clothes. That had been his job.

No woman had ever listened to his songs with that same spark in their eye either.

Clara hadn’t been mad that he hadn’t answered her. It was as if she understood that he’d completely lost track of time—of everything.

She walked around the wall from the laundry room with one of his shirts. “You’re not going to actually wear this shirt again are you?”

She held up a T-shirt he’d had since—well he wasn’t sure since when. “Of course.”

Clara shook her head. “I assume it used to be black. It is a green-gray color now and full of holes. I’m throwing this away.”

Warner bit into his sandwich again. And just like that, the woman of his dreams was throwing away his bachelorhood.

The bite of his bologna lodged in his throat with his thought. He coughed to clear the blockage.

She was taking over his life and his clothes. Already she’d taken over his mind which was leading to his heart.

As she walked away with the shirt wadded up in her hand, he cleared his throat. He’d officially tumbled in love with her. Damn—that was fast.

When Warner was finished with his sandwich he walked his plate to the sink. There were no other dishes in the sink. Clara’s bedroom, her most intimate space was cluttered with her individuality, but her home was tidy.

The dishwasher was running a load of dishes already. Now what?

He let out a chuckle.
You wash the damn thing,
he thought.

Warner opened the cupboard under the sink and took out the bottle of dish soap and a sponge. When the plate was clean, he held it over the sink and looked around for a towel. One hung from the handle of the oven.
Sunday
was stitched on it.

As he pulled it down and dried his dish he had to think hard. It wasn’t really Sunday was it? No…no he knew that for a fact.

Clara walked into the kitchen and stopped. She smiled easily and he liked that.

“Did you wash that plate? You could have just set it in the sink.”

“That didn’t seem right. I’ve been cleaning all day. Maybe I’m still in the cleaning mood.”

“If you say so.” She pulled out a chair from around the kitchen table and sat down. “I have a show tomorrow night.”

Warner tucked the towel back over the handle of the oven and looked at Clara for direction as where to put the plate. She pointed to a cupboard.

He had to admit there was a bit of alarm in his chest when he noticed a pink handled pistol sitting there.

Hoping he was discreet enough, he put the plate on the stack, closed the door quickly, and sat down across from Clara.

“Last four shows, right?”

“Yeah. Friday night. Matinee on Saturday. Saturday night and Sunday night.”

Warner nodded. “And the gig on Sunday.”

“I won’t be there.”

“I know.” He swallowed hard. “I’m trying to still wrap my head around that.”

She leaned in over her arms which rested on the table. “I want you to come and see me. My family is coming tomorrow night. I’d like you to be there.”

Heat rose in his body. The feeling was uncomfortable enough, but when he hadn’t showered all day it wasn’t good either. “And when you say your whole family you don’t just mean your mom and dad.”

“You catch on quick.” She laughed and sat back in her chair. “In fact, I think Darcy’s dad is here from Florida with a lady friend and he’s coming too.”

“Of course, because the Keller family isn’t big enough.”

That made her laugh hard. “Right.”

Was this a test? Would he pass if he refused? What was he thinking? He didn’t want to refuse. He wanted to be there.

“I’d love to come. Where do I buy a ticket?”

Clara’s eyes softened and so did her body. “God you are cute.” She stood up and walked to him. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “One will be at the box office waiting for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, you march upstairs and get a shower. Christian has some lounge pants on the dryer you could wear until we get your clothes clean.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She cupped his chin in her hands and looked down at him. “And then I want to show you what I set up for us.”

Huh, he couldn’t even begin to imagine where that was leading, but anywhere with her was where he wanted to be.

Clara was the perfect hostess. She’d handed Warner a warm towel and a toiletry kit with a toothbrush and a razor.

“The snarky man in me wants to ask if you have overnight guests a lot. But the gentleman in me knows that’s not why you have these.” He held up the sealed bag she’d handed him.

“Christian throws those in his suitcase when he travels. He can’t remember to pack those items when he’s leaving, so the bags are easy. And he can’t remember to bring them home, so they are disposable.”

“Nice.”

“I’ll be downstairs.” She handed him a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt and walked out of the room.

By the time he made it downstairs, after his shower—and shave—the kitchen table was filled with his clean clothes. They were neatly folded into like piles and he could hear Clara starting the washer again.

She smiled when she saw him. “You look better.”

“Thanks.”

“No disrespect. I’ve seen Randy get that way too. He gets to working on songs and never surfaces for days.”

That twisted in his gut. But he thought to her brother’s expressions when he’d made a comment about Clara having a relationship with the man. Obviously they just worked together and there was no attraction. Warner was wise enough to be grateful for that.

“Are you ready to see what I set up?” Clara opened the door to the basement.

“Sure.” He walked across the cold kitchen floor toward her. She turned on the light to the stairs and headed to the basement.

At the end of the stairs there was another kitchen which he knew led to the apartment where her cousin had lived.

Clara turned on more lights and led him down the hall to the bedroom.

“John helped me put this together today,” she said as she turned on the light.

The bedroom had heavy moving blankets hung up on the walls. The bed had been disassembled and sat propped up against the wall. Two stools sat in the center of the room. A music stand sat in front of them, a towel draped over it.

“You built a recording studio?”

She smiled at him. “I don’t have any equipment, but…”

“I do,” he interrupted. “I mean I have what we need.” His voice had risen in pitch. A surge of adrenaline had bolted though him when he realized what she had done.

Sure, it was simple, in a room that wasn’t being used. But it was the thought. She had done this for him—for them. She’d included her family.

“I’m free tomorrow until two,” she added. “We could start recording…”

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. Warner grabbed her arm and pulled her to him with a thud.

She let out a grunt, but his mouth was on hers quickly.

There was no protest. Not that he’d expected any.

Clara wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss he had started.

Warner moved her until she was pressed up against the mattress which was leaning up against the wall.

The air in the room was growing thick. His was becoming heavy, the kiss more intense, his need—uncontrollable.

“Warner,” her voice was heavy on the air—thick with lust.

He moaned something that urged her to continue as he moved his lips to her neck.

“Let’s go upstairs.” She swallowed hard beneath his lips. “My room.” Her breath was being gulped in as she pulled her fingers through his hair. “I have protection up there.”

He was hearing her words, but he wasn’t believing them. Then again he was sure as hell going to take her up on it. Thank goodness she was practical too.

Warner pressed his over willing body close to her and she held him tight. “Are you sure about that?”

“Uh-huh.”

She escaped from beneath him and took his hand, pulling his out of the room and back up the stairs. They were a mess of tangled limbs as they tried to hurry through the kitchen and the living room, their mouths still attached.

They tried to skirt in front of the couch, but her foot caught the edge of the coffee table and she yelped a curse and fell to the couch below.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

She pulled her leg up, crossing her knees to look and laughed. “Yes.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not. Give me a second and I’ll be fine. It just hurts.”

Warner nodded and watched her rub the pain from her foot. He looked down at the table where he’d dropped his keys and his cell phone. The yellow piece of paper he’d written the song on lay there crumbled up. He’d pulled it off his door and it was the closest thing he’d had when he needed to write on something. But now the front of it was face up.

EVIC was all he could see.

He quickly reached for it and pulled it open.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” He tried to unwrinkle the message.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m evicted.”

“Evicted?” Clara jumped to her feet, obviously forgetting about the pain she had been in. “Why would they evict you?”

He looked the paper over. “Because they sold the damn building.” He read down further. “Oh no she didn’t!”

He reached for his phone.

“What are you talking about?” Clara took the paper out of his hand. “They sold to the P. M. L. group?”

He dialed the number and put it to his ear. “Patricia Morgan Little.”

“Oh!”

The phone rang in his ear and then her nasty and annoying voice mail took over the call. He pushed the end button and nearly threw down the phone—of course he had a better mind about it. He didn’t have three hundred dollars to replace a phone. And to top it all off, the bitch had kicked him out of his house.

“Warner, maybe I can have Zach look into this.”

“Why? This is how she works. She just a nasty…”

“Why would she do this to you?”

“Because this is how she works. She’s had four step children and she does crap like this all the time to all of us. And none of us are even involved in her life anymore.”

Clara shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“What is she going to talk about on that stupid show of hers if she doesn’t have one of us to belittle and upset? This is a shock factor maneuver. She’s doing this to hurt us and then her ratings go up. She’s all about being the nasty bitch on that show and they pay her handsomely for it. She doesn’t care what people think of her.”

“Then you move in here.”

“Clara, you’re not making any sense.”

She fisted her hands on her hips and stood there glaring at him. “I’m making perfect sense. You move in here with me.”

“I’m sure your family would think differently of that.”

Her hands came up and she huffed out a breath. “I’m offering you a perfectly good place to live. No one can evict you from here. And you could record your music and get your songs out there. Isn’t that what you want?” She turned to walk out of the room and turned right back around. “I’ll tell you what. You can live here until you have a fancy tour bus and then you can live there. But I’m trying to help you out. I won’t just have someone I love thrown out on the streets and treated like this. That woman can go to hell for all I care.”

He was sure the blood had drained from his head. That was his cue to sit down and he did.

“You’re just going to sit there?” She slapped her hands down to her sides. “Lord, you’re a pain.”

She moved to walk past him and he grabbed her hand. “Do you even know what you’ve just said?”

“I said move in here. Patricia Little doesn’t affect me. I can have her…”

“No. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Now you’re not making sense.”

He loosened his grip. “Why do you want me here?”

“You’re important to me.”

He stood up and looked down into her dark eyes. “This has nothing to do with her now.” He reached his hand to her cheek and caressed her soft skin. “Tell me again what you said before. About me being thrown out.”

“Oh.” Her cheek grew warm under the tips of his fingers. “I said I wouldn’t have anyone I loved be treated like this.”

“Love?”

She let out a sigh. “Love.”

“That is one hefty word.”

“It sure is,” she agreed. She moved in closer to him. “I don’t just say it either.”

“I’ve never had anyone say it to me at all.”

“Never?” She pressed against him.

“Never.”

Her lips moved to his neck. “I think that should change.”

He swallowed hard. Was he ready for this? Why was he so nervous?

“Warner,” she whispered in his ear.

“Huh?”

“I love you.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t ready for the words. His heart rate kicked up harder than it had when she’d had her hands on him in the basement. His palms grew sweaty and his mouth had gone dry.

“Clara…”

“Shhh, don’t say anything. I don’t want you to repeat the words. Not yet.” She gently pressed her lips to his. “Now, the offer stands.”

“Me living here?”

“That one too.” She took his hand and started toward the stairs. “We can discuss that in the morning. Patricia Little is not about to ruin what I was already working on.”

“Oh.” His voice cracked as Clara started up the stairs.

Warner could have died right there in Clara’s arms and been perfectly content with the life he’d lived. The memory of the night they’d shared filled his mind as he drove down the highway. Every night could be like that. The rest of his life could be like that.

The woman loved him.

What an amazing feeling to have someone want to be with you, he thought. It wasn’t like he was some sad virgin. He’d had a lot of sexual experience, but this was the first time someone had actually been in love with him and it made all the difference in the world.

All he could do was pray he didn’t screw it up.

Warner pulled up in front of his apartment building. Already one of the units was moving out. This was the first time he’d ever been grateful that he didn’t have anything.