6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

C ourage

The sizzle of the fajitas echoes through the kitchen as I slide the skillet onto the trivet on the table. Candy follows close behind, two plates in one hand, a bowl of guacamole in the other. The scent of seared peppers and onions mingles with the tang of lime, making my mouth water.

"I can't believe you cooked," Candy says, setting the dishes down and eyeing the spread appreciatively. "I thought bodyguards just loomed in corners and looked intimidating."

Flashing her a grin, I make sure to expose all four fangs. "What can I say? I'm a wolven of many talents."

She laughs, the sound bright and unguarded. It's a far cry from the tense, brittle woman I met a few weeks ago. The Candy I've come to know is hardworking, driven, and surprisingly down-to-earth.

These last few weeks, I've watched her pour her heart into this acoustic set, strumming her guitar until she got callouses on her callouses, scribbling lyrics at all hours of the night. My respect for her grows with every passing day, every hour she dedicates to her craft.

We settle into our seats, assembling our fajitas in comfortable silence. It's easy, this rhythm we've fallen into. Working side by side, we've shared cereal and DoorDash meals, and talked late into the night about whatever floats through our minds.

As we eat, Candy regales me with stories from her Kids' Network days, her expression animated as she recounts on-set pranks and backstage antics.

"Since the station's initials are KEN, it makes sense their mascot is named Ken. But that's where all good sense went out the window. It's this odd, hairy, gaping-mouthed fish that has feet and walks. Both ludicrous and ugly. I can't tell you how many dances I did with that character."

Although I know something terrible happened during her time at the network, she hasn't breathed a word, choosing instead to stick to the fun anecdotes. She has such a knack for telling stories; I hang on every word, drawn in by her warmth, her wit, and the way she makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world.

It's dangerous, this pull between us. I'm her bodyguard, nothing more. But with every shared smile, every accidental brush of our hands, I feel the attraction building.

We move in sync as we clear the table. Candy washes, and I dry, our elbows bumping as we work. The domesticity of it sends a pang through my chest. I've never before had this easy companionship with a female. If only we'd met under different circumstances… where she wasn't my boss.

As I put away the last plate, Candy turns to me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Hey, Courage? Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." The word comes out rougher than I intended, laden with a weight I'm not quite ready to examine.

"I've been working on my new songs nonstop for two weeks, but I'm not sure they're any good." Her gaze darts away, uncertainty etched on her face. "The tour kicks off soon, and I feel like I'm barely treading water. What if I can't pull this off? What if I'm not cut out for this… stripped-down, soul-baring stuff?"

My heart clenches. How can she not know how incredible she is?

"Candy, look at me." After waiting for her gaze to meet mine, I hold it steady. "I live in the same house as you. I've heard you practice. You were born for this. Your songs, your voice, your heart… they're a gift . You're going to blow them away out there. I guarantee it."

A flush colors her cheeks, but a small smile tugs at her lips. "Thanks. I just… I want to get everything right, you know? We've been calling this the Back-to-Basics Tour, but we all know it's the Candy Wood Redemption Tour. If I'm going to have a future in this business, I need this to work."

I nod, understanding the pressure she's under. "Why don't we take this outside? We could both use some fresh air after being cooped up in the studio all day."

Her eyes light up. "Yes, please. I'm so sick of the same four walls."

We grab a couple of beers and head out to the deck, the cool night breeze ruffling my shoulder pelt. Candy settles cross-legged on a chaise lounge, her guitar cradled in her lap. I give a neighboring lounge a 180, our seats like ships passing in the night, so I can watch her.

"Play me something," I urge, leaning back and putting my palms on the back of my head. "Anything. This isn't practice. You pretend this is a concert and I'll pretend I've never heard you play before. Ladies and gentlemen, Candy Wood unplugged."

Her eyes flare as though she's terrified, though I've heard her play all day every day for weeks. Maybe there's something about this that makes it feel more real. Then her face calms. She digs deep to find the consummate performer lurking under her skin.

"Okay, this first one is called ‘Ripple Effect'." She takes a deep breath, her fingers finding the strings. "It's about second chances, starting over, how one change can lead to a drastic shift."

As she plays, I pretend I'm in a vast audience and the illumination reflecting off the pool is from stage lights. I'm transfixed. Her voice is honey and smoke, wrapping around me like a caress. The lyrics are raw, honest, painting a picture of a woman on the brink of something new, something terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

I close my eyes, letting the music wash over me. She's magnetic, mesmerizing, a force of nature.

The song ends, the last chord hanging in the air between us. Candy's shimmering green eyes are wide and vulnerable as she looks at me, almost fearfully asking, "What did you think?"

"Candy, that was incredible." My voice is hoarse with emotion. "That gold record hanging on your wall wasn't a fluke. I've heard you practice and knew the song was great, but the way you perform it… it's like nothing I've ever seen."

Her face breaks into a grin, her whole body seeming to vibrate with joy. "Really? You're not just saying that?"

"Really." I hold her gaze, trying to compel her to see the truth in my words. "Maury pays me to keep you from fucking up, but he doesn't pay me enough to lie to you. You're going to Own. That. Stage. And I'll be right there in the wings, cheering you on."

She sets her guitar aside, leaning closer to me. "Thanks, Courage. For believing in me."

Her face is inches from mine, her breath ghosting across my lips. It would be so easy to close the distance, to taste her, to lose myself in her warmth.

But I can't. I'm her bodyguard, her protector. Crossing that line would be a betrayal of the trust she's placed in me.

With herculean effort, I pull back, clearing my throat. "Anytime, Candy. I'll always believe in you."

Her smile falters for a moment, but she recovers quickly, reaching for her guitar once more. "Okay, this next one is a little different. It's called ‘Howl at the Moon.' Funny thing, I've written it since I met you."

After a playful wink, she launches into the song. I'm struck by the fun, almost flirtatious edge to the lyrics. She sings of midnight runs and starlit skies, of the thrill of the chase and the allure of the wild.

It makes me think of the ancient wolven courtship rituals, of the songs wolven sang to our intended mates beneath the full moon of An'Wa. My fingers itch for my flute. The instrument I've played since I was a pup is at the bottom of my empty duffel. I haven't unpacked it since I arrived.

But I push the thought away, focusing instead on the way Candy's voice seems to dance on the night air as it bounces off the water. The way her eyes sparkle with mischief and something deeper, something that sets my blood on fire.

I've been trying to tamp down my attraction to the woman I share a house with, but this… intimacy has made it harder.

As Candy launches into the final chorus, her head thrown back in abandon as she ends the song with her pathetic attempts at howling—"Awooooo,"—I can't bring myself to care about the rules. For this moment, under the stars, with her music filling my soul, I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.