Girl in Love (11 page)

“Okay. Since you’ve all decided to play hard-asses today, how about I just give it to everyone straight?” Davies cleared his throat and when no one interrupted, he continued. “The label has decided that the best way to launch Trace’s comeback and Kylie’s
Not a Nice Girl
album is to send both of you on an arena tour. You’ll both have
The Other Side of Me
on your next albums, so that’ll be the headline for the tour. One bus, some promos hinting that the two of you might be romantically involved, joint interviews, and then afterwards, you’re both free to do whatever you want.”

Noel’s words hung heavy in the air and silence descended on the room. Until everyone began talking at once.

“That’s not even—”

“I don’t see how that will—”

“Maybe we should just—”

“Well then, I see you all have some things to discuss. Feel free to stay in here as long as necessary until these contracts are signed.” With that, Noel Davies stood, slid two stacks of paper to each side of the table, and left. Trace’s hatred for the smug bastard intensified.

Once the door closed, he took a deep breath and met the gorgeous blues of a girl he knew would wreck him. In more ways than one.

“What do you think, Kylie Lou? Can we do this?”

He could hear the voice of Gretchen Gibson in his head.

No. You can’t handle this. You aren’t strong enough and she’s not worth your sobriety. You’ll only be repeating the same mistakes.

Kylie was out of reaching distance, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the connection. It was like watching a movie playing in her eyes as mutual memories flickered between them. The fights. The laughter. The lovemaking. The goodbye.

And when it ended, pure, unadulterated fear slipped past the bravado and she was as exposed to him as the first time they’d slept together.

A year ago, a look like that would have brought him to his knees. Even now, if they’d been alone, he would’ve dropped down and begged for forgiveness, pleaded once more for the right to kiss her, to hold her.

But as it was, they weren’t alone. And this was business. Kylie cleared her throat and broke their stare. Turning to her manager, she nodded.

The man nodded back and then at Maude. Suddenly, Trace had the feeling it wasn’t Kylie who was being ambushed at all.

“So here’s what we have,” Maude began. “Kylie is open to this possibility. Contingent upon some specifications, she’s willing to co-headline on this tour.”

Trace felt his eyes widen. So she had just been playing reluctant for Davies? Or was Maude playing everyone? He wasn’t sure, but he damn sure wasn’t up for being played.

He stared at Kylie, but she kept her gaze focused out the window. He wondered what Nashville looked like through her eyes now.

“Let’s hear these
specifications.
I might have a few of my own.”

That got her attention. He leaned back in his chair as she turned toward him.

“One,” Maude began, “she wants it in the contract that there is to be no drinking on your part. And if you’re so much as one minute late to a soundcheck or a show, she walks.”

He cocked a brow and tried to pretend it didn’t sting that she still didn’t trust him. Not that he’d done much to deserve her trust. But he could work on that.

“Two,” Maude continued, “no fake promos about your relationship or lack thereof, and you are to have separate living spaces of equal size on the bus. And in any hotels you stay in during the tour.”

Tilting his head, he continued to listen as their agent discussed the rest of Kylie’s conditions. He did his best to put off an air of boredom. As if these things were inconsequential to him. But in reality? Separate living spaces or no, this was not something he was sure he could handle.

He’d been depending on her to shut this whole crazy thing down. Even if she agreed to tour with him, she was a big damn deal these days. Sharing a bus was the biggest fake promo there was.

It said to the world that they were practically living together. Which they would be. Sharing a bus with her, knowing deep down that what he felt for her was bound to burst through the surface any second, might be the death of him. He was going to have to risk hurting her feelings and saying so in a room full of people.

But when she stood and he got a glimpse of her tight little body in that tiny dress, those smooth, tan legs that he’d once had wrapped around his waist while buried so deep inside of her he couldn’t remember his own name, all he could think was,
What a way to go.

“D
ON’T YOU
think I know that?” Kylie said into the phone wedged against her ear as she balanced precariously on one foot while trying to put a boot on.

“It’s just, it’s him, you know? And after everything the two of you have been through…after how bad things ended last year, I’m not sure this is the best idea. For either of you.”

“Lu, I’m aware of this. Believe me. But he agreed to all of my conditions, and the truth is, I think this tour is what my fans want. So even though it might be hell getting through it, I owe it to them. Without them, I’d still be waitressing at The Rum Room.”

She heard her friend huff out a breath. “Kylie—”

“Remember when I called you from Nashville? The first time?” Her friend didn’t answer right away, so she rushed on. “Remember how worried you were? And what did I tell you?”

“That you were going to be okay. You promised.”

Kylie grinned even though her friend couldn’t see. “Right. And I am going to be okay this time, too.”

I hope.

“And this time I’ll be with you,” Lulu added. “So if you and Country Ken Doll get yourselves into a mess, I’ll be there to junk-punch the both of you.”

For the first time in days, Kylie laughed. “Well thank God for that.”

“So my flight gets in tomorrow morning. I hate that I can’t be there tonight.”

Kylie’s laughter died in her throat. Tonight was the kickoff party for the tour. At The Rum Room. And she was going alone. “Yeah, um, no big. Promise I’ll be fine.”

“You do realize what happened last time you said those words to me, right?”

She swallowed hard and secured her other boot onto her foot. “Yeah, Lu. I know. I ended up on tour with some hotshot country music singer in tight jeans.”

“And here we go again.”

A
LOW
whistle greeted her when she got out of the white SUV the label had sent to drive her to the party.

“Well I’ll be. If it isn’t our very own Kylie Ryans.” The manager of the bar stood next to the back entrance, shaking her head.

“Hey, Tonya.” Kylie did her best to exit the vehicle without flashing Tonya her crotch. It was damn near impossible in the entirely-too-short red dress she was wearing.

“Hey, hot stuff. There’s quite a crowd in there. You ready?”

She looked up into Tonya’s eyes as she approached. “Can you really ever be ready for something like this?”

Her friend’s gaze was heavy with sympathy. “Probably not. But on the plus side, you’re a big deal now, right? Equal footing and all that.”

“If you say so.” Kylie was grateful that they were alone. She could feel the blood rushing to her head, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe normally.

“Hey, hon. Seriously. You okay?” Tonya’s sympathetic look morphed into one of concern.

Kylie forced herself to nod as they entered the back of the bar. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Kylie, listen to me. Whatever’s going on in that head of yours, shut it out. You are gorgeous, talented, and just as successful as What’s-His-Ass in there. Don’t forget that. You’ve worked hard and you deserve this. So go knock ’em dead.”

“Thanks,” Kylie breathed out. “Tonya, could you maybe grab me a water? With some vodka in it?”

The other woman let out a small laugh. “Yeah, sure. I’ve been manager for a year now. Probably about time I got fired for serving minors.” She stepped into the hospitality room the bar used for media professionals and reached into a cooler. Tonya grabbed a bottle of water, which she handed over without adding anything to it.

The walk down the hallway behind the stage felt like a death march. Kylie’s legs grew heavier with each step. She shook her hands, stretched her neck, and sipped her water—trying to do anything for a distraction.

“So how’s the kiddo?”

At that, a wide grin broke across Tonya’s face. “She’s good. She’s three handfuls but I can’t complain. Starts kindergarten this year.”

“That’s awesome, Tonya.” A smidge of the tightness in her chest loosened. She was happy for her friend. Glad that the woman finally had the life she wanted, the life she and her daughter deserved.

Tonya retrieved her phone from her pocket and pulled up a picture of a little girl with a high ponytail wearing an
I heart Kylie Ryans
T-shirt.

She grinned at the picture. “Wow, she’s adorable. And she obviously has excellent taste in clothing and music.”

“That she does. Gets it from her mom,” Tonya said with a wink. “Hey, one last thing then I’m turning off my momdar and letting you be.” She stopped walking and placed a hand on Kylie’s shoulder. “You okay, hon? I mean really,
really
okay? Because you seem…different. And not too-big-for-your-fancy-designer-britches different like I expected. Sad different.”

“I’m still just a girl with a guitar, Tonya. Not much has changed except that people actually pay to hear me sing now.”

Her friend studied her intently. “Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it with some lonely old bar manager with no life of her own to speak of, then I understand. But you could talk to me if you needed to vent. Honestly.”

“Honestly?” Kylie glanced down the empty hall. “Honestly, no. I’m not okay. Honestly I have no idea what I’m doing and I feel like I’ve been playing the ‘fake it till you make it’ game and I can’t do that with him. Every time he looks at me, I feel like he can read my mind or something and I just can’t—”

Her sentence was interrupted by someone clearing his throat. Loudly. She closed her eyes.
Please let that be Clive. Please, pretty please.

“They’re ready for us,” Trace said softly. “House band is warmed up and ready to go.”

Kylie knew her eyes had widened at the sight of him. The dark blue button-up he wore tucked into his jeans fit him perfectly. His hair was fixed differently. As in, he did more than rake his hands through it. Or maybe it was just that there wasn’t a worn-out trucker hat covering it. Either way, he was the Hollywood version of himself that she wasn’t quite used to. Not that any version of Trace Corbin didn’t have the uncanny ability to knock her senseless.

“Um, okay. Be right there.”

“Equal footing, cuz,” Tonya whispered from beside her. “Breathe.”

She did as she was told and forced a smile in Trace’s direction. He nodded once and walked toward the stage.

“Oh, my poor, sweet cousin from Oklahoma,” Tonya said, shaking her head. “You, my dear, are in big trouble.”

“I am?” Kylie asked, turning to her friend, wearing her panic all over her face.

“You’re in love. And as I’ve said before, this shit ain’t for amateurs.”

T
RACE GREETED
the crowd, trying his best to focus on them instead of who stood beside him.

Every time he looks at me I feel like he can read my mind.

He’d overheard her talking to the waitress-turned-manager that he knew she was friends with. What he couldn’t figure out was if she had been talking about him or the guitar-wielding asshole behind them.

What in the actual fuck Steven Blythe was doing in The Rum Room’s house band was beyond him. Besides screwing up Trace’s entire life that was.

“Thank y’all so much for coming out tonight. I can’t tell you how much it means to me. And to someone else who is very special to me. Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Kylie Ryans.”

The crowd hollered and whistled as she stepped into the spotlight. Trace couldn’t look away from her. Jesus Christ she was beautiful.

For a moment, he forgot she wasn’t his. Forgot he’d given up the right to touch her, kiss her sweet, smiling mouth. Reflexively, his arm reached out and wrapped around her. The shock was clear on her face and he removed it as smoothly as he could manage.