Kane shrugged the growing tension from his shoulders. Sabella’d grabbed a sleeping bag from her bedroom and plucked her purse from a hook by her door before they left. Now they stood in line at a café. He couldn’t wait to get to whatever park she had in mind. A picnic, his guitar, hopefully somewhere secluded—it was perfect.
Mostly he just wanted to tug her into his arms. Even though she’d changed from the skimpy outfit he’d found her in, she still looked unbelievably sexy. There was just something about her curves… And he didn’t mind the fact that she was short enough to nestle comfortably under his arm.
He was ready to be disappointed by a cold dose of reality, but he had to get the fantasy out of his mind. For weeks, all he’d had were memories of her. That had been torment enough but nothing like actually having her near.
“What are you in the mood for?” Sabella asked, twisting back to him.
Kane cleared his throat. “Whatever you’re having,” he heard himself answering.
“Two vegan salads it is,” she said, though he caught a twinkle in her eyes.
“Definitely not.” He glanced up at the menu board. “How about a roast beef sandwich?” He hadn’t had anything other than a croissant and coffee on the plane. He wanted something a bit more filling, even if food wasn’t his top priority right now.
“Okay, then,” she said and turned back toward the cashier. Finally the last person in front of them was done, and Sabella placed their order: two roast beef sandwiches, a couple iced teas, and she added a side of potato salad. Not bad.
Kane pulled out his credit card, handing it to the cashier before Sabella had a chance to take out her wallet. She started to protest, but he cut her off. “Where I come from, the man pays.” A part of him expected her to protest anyway.
Instead, she cocked an eyebrow, smiled, and remained silent. The cashier shifted her gaze between the two of them, unsure if she should run the card. Kane looked back at her, about to turn on the charm, when Sabella nodded at the girl. “Go ahead, Daisy.”
After he’d gotten his card back, the two of them stepped out of the way to wait for their order. “You come here often?” Kane asked, though it wasn’t really a question.
“Sometimes, when I’m tired of writing at home.” They stood in silence for a minute. “They have pretty great sandwiches, actually,” Sabella added.
Kane nodded in response. The ease of their night in Nashville was clearly gone. It was exactly what he’d expected, but he still found himself disappointed.
~*~
Sabella puffed her breath out as the two of them walked to Kane’s rental car. He was being perfectly polite, the epitome of a good old Southern boy, even going as far as to insist on carrying their food, but somehow it all reminded her that, ultimately, they were strangers. Maybe their chemistry had been a perfectly normal side effect of alcohol consumption. How depressing.
The car chirped, and Kane opened the passenger door for her, ever the gentleman. Sabella kept her eyes down, desperately looking for something to say. Her eyes fell on the back seat, but all she saw there was a jacket, the sleeping bag Kane had tossed in, and a guitar case she hadn’t noticed earlier. Her head jerked up. “You brought your guitar?” she asked, looking up at him. Other than the metal door between them, they were standing closer than she had previously realized.
The question seemed to catch him off-guard. “I, uh, yeah. I take it everywhere,” he answered after a moment.
Sabella smiled, slipped the bag of food from his left hand, and slid into the seat. Kane hesitated for a second, then shut the door and rounded the car.
Once they’d made their way out of the parking lot, Sabella directed him to the Waterfront Park. Portland had no shortage of parks, both in downtown and outside of the city center, but she loved sitting on the waterfront, alternately looking over the river and facing the city, depending on her mood. Maybe sitting by the river would somehow help revive the chemistry they had had in Nashville.
In the park, she chose a solid-looking tree with full branches—one of her personal favorites. People passed by on the bike path that snaked near the water. They were few and far between, and the path itself was still a ways away, but the two of them wouldn’t be completely alone.
“What do you think?” she asked, turning back to Kane.
“Looks good.” He set down his guitar and laid out the sleeping bag between them.
Sabella knelt on the edge and pulled out the sandwiches, salad, forks, napkins, and iced teas, placing everything between her spot and the tree. Kane still stood near the other edge of the sleeping bag, by his guitar case, as if uncertain whether he should sit down.
“Are you going to join me?” she asked tentatively. Suddenly, the reality of the situation pressed around her. What was she doing on a picnic with Kane Hartridge? It wasn’t as though she was particularly fascinating or pretty, or anything resembling his type, which probably tended more toward leggy, gorgeous, and effortlessly flirty women. She would have been only mildly surprised if he had chosen to turn around and drive off right then.
~*~
Sabella stiffened then licked her lips. She looked unsure, expectant. Kane lowered himself to the corner of the sleeping bag on the other side of the tree from where she sat, letting his legs go off the edge and into the grass. He kept one knee bent and leaned onto his right hand. Sabella shifted onto one hip, leaving her legs folded to her side. Both of them were left awkwardly just a bit too far from the food she’d laid out. She’d gotten nervous, but he wasn’t sure why. He did know how to put a girl at ease, though.
He flashed her a smile. “You’re right, this does look good.”
Sabella exhaled and said, “Hopefully, it tastes even better.” She cocked her head and added, “You must be pretty hungry if you just flew in.”
“That I am.” He waited for her to make a move toward the food.
She looked at him, the hint of a smile back in her eyes. “It’s not poisoned. Well.” She paused. “Not as far as I know.”
Kane pushed up from his position and resettled closer to the tree. He reached for an iced tea, twisted it open, and offered it to her.
“Thanks.” She accepted it with a smile. Then she tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned forward to open the box of potato salad. Kane’s mama had raised him better, but that didn’t stop him from taking in the sight of Sabella’s cleavage. It did make him pretend he hadn’t when she sat up and held out the opened container to him along with a plastic fork.
They ate seated like that. Occasionally, Kane passed her the potato salad. She would take a couple bites then give it back, so he ended up eating most of it. They chatted a bit, but it was mostly frustrating, idle small talk. When they finished their sandwiches, she gathered the trash and walked it over to a nearby bin. Her hips swayed with every step. He took a sip of iced tea as he watched her walk back toward him. A soft wind tousled her hair, tempting Kane to tangle his fingers in it.
Sabella stopped when she reached the edge of the sleeping bag. “So, are you going to leave your guitar just lying there? Abandoned?”
Kane smiled at the feigned concern on her face. Her expressive eyes showed every emotion. He placed his hand on the guitar case. “What do I get if I take it out?”
“Nothing,” she said with a smile. “But,” she continued a second later, sitting back down, “you might get something for a song.”
That made him chuckle. “What’d that be?”
“It would be a surprise,” she answered, barely hesitating.
“Who picks?” Kane asked softly, without humor. His gaze slipped to her lips just as she licked them. He forced himself to focus on her eyes again.
“Depends on how well you sing, I guess.” Challenge joined the mischief in her eyes, but her voice sounded a bit breathier. Kane turned away to get his guitar. There was a chance he’d judged the day too quickly.
~*~
Sabella settled comfortably and waited as Kane tuned his guitar. With his focus diverted, she could watch him without any pretense of admiring the nature surrounding them. He sat with both knees bent, one leg laid flat against the sleeping bag while the other supported the guitar. His upper body curved slightly over the instrument while he tuned, which made his hair drift forward on the right side, falling over his eyebrow. His left wrist was adorned with the same woven bracelet he had worn in Nashville. She made a mental note to ask him about it the next time there was a lull in their conversation.
Finished tuning, Kane straightened and brushed his hair back. His voice was incredible: so pure, yet touched with a husky raggedness that heightened the sincerity of the emotions and experiences behind his words. This was why she had made a point of going to the Fiddle and Steel Guitar specifically for their open mic night. She might never come to appreciate the country music genre as a whole, but she definitely didn’t mind the country feel to his songs; he was so good, she had no difficulty looking past the genre, or even the occasional syntactical errors in his lyrics, to enjoy his music wholeheartedly.
Like when he had been on stage, Kane alternated between closing his eyes and taking in his surroundings, though this time, there was no question he was looking at her. At the conclusion of the song, a soft smile curled his lips just enough to round his cheeks and narrow his eyes almost imperceptibly.
“Your voice is amazing,” Sabella murmured, not wanting to disturb the air, which still felt suffused with his last notes.
For a moment, Kane said nothing; he simply sat, hugging the guitar effortlessly, as if it was an ingrained part of him. “Thanks,” he whispered finally, so quietly she realized he had spoken more because his lips moved than anything else.
“I always wish I had learned to play an instrument,” Sabella confided. “Music is not really my forte, though,” she added, dismissing the idea.
Kane lifted the guitar from his knee. “I could show you.”
“You wouldn’t mind? I wouldn’t want to take advantage of your expertise, or to bore you.”
“We got time.” He shifted so that he sat with both legs out in front of him, bent at the knees. “Come ’ere,” he added.
Sabella lifted onto her knees and scooted closer to him, in what probably looked like an unbecoming half-crawl. She stopped when she was beside his foot and sat back onto her heels.
“What’re you, scared of me now?” Kane taunted with a smile and a lift of an eyebrow.
She held her hands out, palms up. “Where do you want me?”
Kane’s smile dropped, and suggestion replaced the humor in his eyes.
Sabella opened her mouth to clarify then shut it with an exhale, smiling despite herself. “You know what I meant.”
Kane leaned away from the tree trunk and held out his left hand toward her, still holding onto the guitar with his right. She lifted onto her knees again and placed her hand in his, enjoying its warmth and the sensation of his calluses against the softer skin of her palm. He pulled her gently forward and to the side, so she twisted, landing right in front of him with her back to his chest. A new tension vibrated through both of them as Kane straightened his right leg and brought the guitar in front of her so that the head rested against the front of his left knee.
“Watch,” he said, drawing her attention first to his face, so close to hers, then down to the neck of the guitar. He placed three fingers deliberately on the strings in sequence, ensuring she had a chance to note the position of each one. When he dropped his hand, Sabella brought hers to the guitar to replicate the position he had demonstrated. He shifted her ring finger so it rested exactly below her middle finger then strummed the chord. “A minor,” he told her.
“Okay,” she acknowledged.
Kane picked her right arm up from her lap and brought it over the guitar. His muscles shifted against her back with each of his movements. He placed his hand on the body of the guitar, and Sabella took that as an invitation to strum the chord herself. She drew her fingers slowly against the strings, and the guitar sounded each note in succession.
“A little faster,” Kane corrected. “Good,” he praised when she produced a smooth-sounding chord.
Sabella struck the chord again rather than speaking.
“Now,” she felt him say by her ear, “move each finger one string up.”
For a second, Sabella debated what he meant by “up,” but then she shifted her fingers closer to the sky and strummed the new chord.
“E major,” Kane said.
“Easier than I thought it would be.” She strummed the chord again then switched back to the first one. “I don’t know why I was so impressed.” She looked up at him to ensure he had caught her sarcasm.
He was smiling back at her. “Yeah? So you can play me a song now.”
“Nah,” she backtracked, “I think I’ll leave the playing to you, in case you have a superiority complex.” She smiled up at him then licked her lips. His vibrantly green eyes melded perfectly with their surroundings, and there was something oddly appealing about the hint of stubble covering his jaw.
“You want to hear somethin’ else?” Kane asked without breaking eye contact.
“Yes, please,” she said earnestly and returned her attention to the guitar. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it seemed they had made it past the earlier disconnected unease. Don’t get your hopes up, Sabella.
“Scootch back a bit,” he directed.
She placed her hands on the ground, pushing off so she could lift up and land a touch closer to him. He leaned back against the tree trunk, but she stayed sitting straight until his hand on her shoulder prompted her to settle against him. Kane switched his legs, straightening his left knee so that leg lay straight alongside hers and bringing up his right knee to support the guitar again. Sabella kept both her hands resting on her thighs, but that barely lessened the intimacy of their position. Like it or not, she was nestled against him, surrounded by his body. If she were to be honest with herself, she would have admitted it felt wonderful, but she resolutely avoided thinking about that.
Kane started playing a ballad about a lost high school love. Sabella let the music wash over her, relaxing against his chest. Eventually, she leaned her head back on his shoulder so she could watch him sing. From this angle, she observed the movement of his jaw, saw a slight breeze puff his hair away from his ear for a moment, and noticed the thick, lush branches above them that provided a natural backdrop to his laidback posture. He gazed into the distance, as if seeing the story of the song unfold among the trees before him.
At the song’s bridge, Kane turned his head to look at her. He kept playing but didn’t continue to sing. After a few bars of them watching each other, he leaned down to kiss her.