Chasing the Music: For the Love of Music Book 0.5 (26 page)

His fingers dug harder into her hips. “But you know it’s going to take me a long time to get used to someone—”

“To
anyone
taking care of you in any way.” She rested her forehead against his. “Get used to it, because I want to take care of you more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time. And we all know how I love getting what I want,” she teased.

She felt him soften underneath her, and she knew she had him.

“Okay,” he agreed quietly. “But know that this is going to be maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and not something I could do for anyone else.”

Love and excitement and newness swelled in her chest. “I love you.”

“You two want dinner first?” his mom shouted, making Lita jump away. “Or should I leave you alone for a few more?”

“Oh, hell, I’m sorry,” Griffin buried his face in her neck and Lita laughed.

“Coming!” Lita shouted.

He shook his head against her again.

“This is so perfect, Griff. All of it.” And it was.

Going Home

They took every small state highway they could between Georgia and California. Lita played one of his guitars after another. Sometimes from the passenger’s seat. Sometimes while sitting on the trunk, her feet resting in the backseat. That was his favorite. Her hair flying behind her and her looking happier than he’d ever seen her.

Ryker was home with their mom, and Griffin was finally coming to terms with the fact that his life had taken a serious turn in direction. A good one. One where he wasn’t chasing the music. He wasn’t chasing anything. He was in it. He’d be helping put together Lita’s next album. Maybe recording a few songs with her. Meeting up with
Christian Meyer
. Seriously. Awesome.

Every once in a while Stacy would send him a text, and he’d answer, but every day she felt more a part of his past and that was good for all of them.

Lita continually refused to let him buy a meal or pay for gas because she was sure that if he was forced to go “cold turkey” for a while in letting someone take care of everything, that it would be easier for him later to do it only in moderation. Moderation wasn’t starting until they reached California.

Griffin cringed every time she pulled out her credit card and shoved his wallet back in his pants. Everything in him screamed over the wrongness of it, but he was terrified of her threats to call him out on being old fashioned and not for equal rights, so he kept his mouth shut and said thank you. A lot. And in a
lot
of creative ways.

Lita once again sat on the back of the car while they waited for the massive gas tank to fill up. Her hair lung loose around her shoulders, and her bare legs were tanned after only a week of driving. As much as he wanted to jump in and start his new life in California, he also didn’t want the drive to be over. Two more days were all they had. Maybe three.

“I don’t know what’s next for me.” He sat next to her in the back.

“You’re helping me with my album.” She shrugged. “And helping me relax. And hopefully working with both me and Christian Meyer if that all gets set up the way I want it to.”

Griffin smiled. “He’ll be lucky to have your name attached to his.”

“And the other way around.” She leaned into him.

“And that.”

“Did you really not want to perform. Ever?” she asked. “Before I dragged you onstage?”

Griffin stared at his feet. “I don’t know. It wasn’t what I was ever working toward—at least not since I was in high school. I’ve just always written and played for fun. I taught lessons to make money… I knew I wasn’t leaving Georgia, so I always imagined the small scene, you know?”

Her nose pressed into his cheek and he knew she was going to ask him for something, just like he was learning all sorts of little things about her. “Well, I catapulted you right out of that mediocre fantasy.”

“Yes you did.”

“I know I’m not always easy to work with, but we did a good job keeping business and personal stuff separate when we were on the road.”

Griffin laughed. “No we didn’t. You
meant
that sexual harassment warning. I’ve been constantly harassed.”

She pinched his leg and he jumped. “You know what I mean. You still like me after being my PA.”

“I definitely still like you.” He touched her hair, studied her face, gave her a soft kiss. “I love you. And I’m still falling deeper
.
”

Lita touched her nose to his. “If you’re serious about working with me on the next album, you’re going to hate me sometimes.”

She wasn’t the Lita of his dreams anymore, she was the Lita of his reality and that was so, so much better. “No. I might get annoyed, but I’ll tell you.” He smiled and kissed her cheek.

“Just like I get annoyed now when you make me eat and drink or
ask
me about eating and drinking…” she teased. “Or my stress level, or what I’m thinking about…”

“Just like that.”

She leaned into him more. “And it seems to roll off of you.”

“And you’re hiding your eye rolls better.”

“So, we’re really like a match made in heaven,” she teased. “We already know how to put up with each other’s crap.”

Griffin took the guitar from her and set it in the backseat, once again bringing her close and kissing her. Like every time they got close, Griffin’s mind fell in and out of focus. “Something like that, yeah.”

Lita took Griffin’s face in her small hands. “It’s your turn to chase your dream, Griffin. I just want to be along for the ride.”

It was scary. Terrifying. Like taking a leap off a building with no idea what was below. But with her, he was all in. “I love you, Lita James. I’m ready for everything.”

If you enjoyed this book, you can read about Christin Meyer in
BLURRING THE LINES
, and meet a new couple whose love of music brings them together in FINDING THE DREAM (out soon).

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

Yes, I took some liberties with the music business – I make stuff up for a living ;-)

This is the book where I feel like I broke every rule in writing romance – tough rich girl who sort of saves the guy from his life, and he’s with someone else for a large portion of the book… But still. I kept trying to write their story in a more “traditional” way, but Lita and Griffin weren’t having it.

HUGE thank you to author Nyrae Dawn for giving me notes WAY back when I thought this book would be a novella. And thank you to Allie Brennan and Lenore Kosinski for your awesome ideas. Always thank you to my husband, Mike, for letting me read the final of this book out loud before I jumped into formatting.

Yes, I play the guitar. Yes, the songs I wrote in here are real, and were a BLAST to write ;-)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mia Josephs is a pen name for Jolene Perry. Mostly because sometimes she wants to write love stories just for fun and without any pressure of schedules or deadlines or publishers. Mia Josephs comes from MJ or Mike and Jolene. Also. Jo loves the name Joseph, and her daughter was
almost
a Mia, so there’s that, too.

She lives in Alaska, writes young adult novels, and has cravings for In N Out Burger that she can only quench while traveling.

You can find Mia on her blog
http://miajosephs.blogspot.com
or on twitter @miajosephs

OTHER TITLES BY MIA:

Falling

After All

Unexpectedly You

10 Weeks

Keep reading for the first chapter of BLURRING THE LINES and then the unedited opening of FINDING THE DREAM

Blurring the Lines

ONE

Christian Meyer froze at the bottom of his basement steps, the moment a woman’s voice hit his ears. He leaned against a rusty orange wall as he listened, not ready to show his face even in the sound booth of his small Malibu home. Not yet. After two months of rehab, and four months of writer’s block, this songwriting friend of Max’s was supposed to save him.

He rested his back against the wall as her song continued. Her voice was full and throaty but feminine. He grinned as he thought about what she’d look like. Short, two hundred and some pounds with grey teeth from smoking and probably in some old rock n’ roll tank that no longer fit her figure. Or maybe she’d be all business in a way that didn’t suit her voice at all. Either way, lyricists were notoriously weird.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the words.

“
...anticipation of the first kiss…sometimes you hit, sometimes you miss…
” The riff lowered into a different key. “...
and life
…
continues on
…”

It was the kind of raw sound he wanted after leaving the band. He knew it could kill his career, but he had enough money. He wanted to get back to his roots. To the words. The lyrics. The feel of a big-bodied guitar under his arm instead of the thin strength of electric. Besides, he was leaving on tour with Lita James. Having her on his side—one of the hottest women in rock—was the perfect way to kick off his new sound.  Lita was about to attempt a similar version of the unplugged sound he wanted. Though, her shift in genre was more likely to last only one album, and his was a shift in career.

As a college junior, the gig as lead guitarist in Kincaid had been a dream opportunity. Thirteen years and who knows how many drug experimentations and addictions later, he needed something new. Though, finding his new groove hadn’t proven as easy as he hoped.

Knowing he was shit at meeting new people sober, he wondered how much more time he could kill in the hallway. His blond hair fell over his face as his gaze shifted from the wall to the floor and his worn shoes. “Beach bum shoes” as his dad would have said.

Max jogged out of the sound booth and stopped when he saw Chris against the wall.

“Holy shit, Chris. How long you been here?” He scratched his head of dark, curly hair.

Chris waved Max off. “Just a few minutes. I’m coming in now.”

Max licked his lips and shifted his weight. Chris’ manager had never been able to stand still.

Max’s phone buzzed, and then again.

“You gonna get that?” Chris asked, really just wanting to buy more time before whatever lecture Max had planned.

Jerking his phone from his over-pressed pocket, Max gave Chris a frown. And then frowned further when he checked his phone.

“What emergency now?” Chris asked.

“Jaxen Pritt again.” Max sighed.

Chris scoffed. “If you went back to him, he’d probably make you more money than I will.”

Max shook his head. “He can’t pay me enough to work with him again.” And then Max smiled. “But he’s probably the only person I’d say that about.”

Chris had learned not to pry into Max’s attitude toward certain musicians because Max had a ready opinion on almost everyone, and it wasn’t easily changed.

“I’m assuming you have some kind of warning for me or something? Before I start to work with this mystery songwriter?” Chris asked. Max generally had a list of warnings for Chris in new situations. Not just because Chris was terrible at them, but also because Max was that good.

“So.” Max rubbed his chin. “Corinne is a long time friend of mine. Hands off. Absolutely.”

Chris held up his hands, imagining the graying, strange woman. “Not a problem.”

“And,”—Max pointed at him with a look of seriousness Chris wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before— “don’t bring up her family.”

“We’re here for music,” Chris said as he pushed around Max and into the sound booth ready for the awkward initial meeting to be over with. “It’s fine.”

The woman on the other side of the shaded glass stopped him, stunned, in the sound booth.

Her small frame was almost swallowed whole by his acoustic Guild guitar. Nearly black hair spiraled around her round face and fell over narrow, but muscular shoulders. Her skin was a rich coffee-caramel—gorgeous and soft. A simple white tank, jeans that looked worn from wear rather than from a label, and bare feet. Simple. Perfect. Incredible. Possibly edible.

Max was so close he nearly touched Chris’ back. “I said hands off, Chris. I meant it.”

Chris leaned forward as if to step into the studio but stopped again, feeling almost as if his tongue was swelling in nerves. He didn’t get nervous in front of pretty girls. At least not since he could remember.

This was different. This woman was supposed to maybe save his career. And the best part was that she didn’t want her name on anything. Never did. It’s why Max had selected her in the first place. It felt like cheating, but at that moment Chris was desperate enough that he didn’t care. Loads of artists did it. Hell, most people didn’t read who wrote the lyrics anyway. Just musicians. He thought.