Taming the Country Star: A Hometown Heroes Novella (Entangled Bliss)

by Margo Bond Collins

  The old man leaned in and brushed a light kiss across Kylie’s cheek in greeting. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said. “How have you been?”

  “Hi, Benito. This is my…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Um. My…friend.” A flicker of recognition crossed Benito’s face, as if he were trying to place Cole’s face.

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” Cole said, holding his hand out to shake Benito’s.

  “I brought Cole here because he loves caldo de pescado, and yours is the best.”

  Cole’s gaze brightened. “I can’t believe you remember that,” he said. “I haven’t had it since…” His mouth hung open as he surveyed her. She knew he was about to say—that he hadn’t had it since Cozumel—but he finished vaguely, as if the awkward moment had never happened. “I can’t remember the last time I had it.”

  “Well, then,” Benito said, “I will make sure it is perfect for you, mija Kylie.”

  The endearment brought a smile to her face as she watched Benito head back to the kitchen.

  “I didn’t know you could get anything but standard Tex-Mex in the Stockyards,” Cole said. “At least, you couldn’t the last time I spent any time in Fort Worth.”

  “Azteca’s a bit of a local secret,” Kylie said.

  “So you lived here all your life?” Cole asked. “Did you ever want to leave?”

  “Not really. It’s home. And I like the idea of contributing. And I get the best of both worlds—I mean, Fort Worth’s a city, but the Stockyards District is more like a small town, and I’ve always been part of it, ever since Daddy rode the rodeo circuit.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Your ex—the one whose honeymoon I took—does he live here, too?”

  “Ugh. I thought this was a first date. I’m not sure that’s first-date material.”

  “Then think of it as background information. I only barely refrained from asking while we were on said honeymoon—I promised myself I would find out this time.” He sat back, looking at her expectantly.

  “Fine.” Tenting her hands in front of her, she chewed on her lip for a long moment before she spoke. “Tom and I grew up together. His father was a rodeo clown—one of the guys who draws the bull away from thrown riders. We knew the same people, went to the same schools. Dated in high school, broke up in college, got back together after.”

  She paused. When she didn’t resume, Cole prompted, “And then?”

  “And then everyone assumed we should get married. Including us.” She tapped her fingertips together, then rearranged the napkin and silverware. “I probably would have gone through with it. Lucky for both of us, Tom figured out it was a bad idea.”

  “Why bad?”

  “Oh, nothing horrible. But there was no…spark. We were comfortable. Too comfortable, I think.”

  “You seemed pretty upset about it when I met you,” he said.

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it since then. And I think I was more embarrassed than anything. Dumped at the altar was never in my plans. Even if it was for the best.” She shrugged.

  “And since then?”

  “Since then, I’ve had a lot of time to work on Cowbelles.” She technically answered the question, although she was fairly certain he wasn’t really asking about work. But her lack of a love life since him was none of his business.

  “Your store.” One corner of his mouth quirked up, as if he were reading her mind.

  “Right.” Damn him for noticing her change of topic, anyway. “Cowbelles is small, but it’s something I’ve built for myself, and it means that I’m a contributing member of my community. I can give back a little.”

  Cole leaned forward. “How so?”

  “Well, I joined together with several other shop owners in the Stockyards and we sponsor a couple of Little League teams for local kids. Every couple of months, Cowbelles hosts the midnight food run—some of the local churches deliver food to the homeless and LeeAnn and I help out with that.”

  “So it’s all charity work sorts of things?”

  Kylie laughed. “No. I’m also a member of the Stockyards Small Business Coalition, so some of it gets pretty political.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, like I said earlier, three years ago, I tried to get the city council to extend the ban on posters and flyers another block.” She tried to ignore the flush she felt climbing up her neck at the reminder of Cole’s defaced advertisement.

  “Why another block?” He sounded truly interested, as if this were more than simply polite dinner conversation.

  “Cowbelles sits at the very edge of the Stockyards, so on the left side of the store, no flyers are allowed. But the wall to the right of the door is always plastered. I think it’s tacky, so I tried to get it banned.” Leaning back in her seat, she watched him carefully. Would he be offended? He relied on those kinds of ads, after all.

  A dimple flashed at the corner of Cole’s mouth. “So do you tear down all of the posters that show up there?”

  She shrugged and the blush crawled across her cheeks. “Some of them bother me more than others.”

  Cole laughed out loud, then sat back in his seat as Benito placed their dishes in front of them with a flourish.

  Watching him dig into his soup with evident enjoyment, Kylie marveled at his reaction to her concert-poster vandalism. She didn’t know that she would be so calm—so amused—if she learned that Cole had ripped up pictures of her.

  Something about that made her feel strangely safe, as if he might always take her actions in stride. As if he would accept even the worst parts of her, help her turn her fear and anger into joy.

  She could get used to the sound of that laughter. “I haven’t been fair to you,” she announced suddenly.

  “Oh?” His tone was mild—but it didn’t match his abrupt stillness, the way his entire body came to attention at her words.

  “You did try to tell me who you were. I didn’t want to know. When I got to the resort, I thought I needed something completely unconnected to the rest of my life.”

  “And now?” Once again, his alert body language belied the calmness of his voice.

  This is important to him.

  She was surprised to realize that it mattered to her, too.

  “Now…I think you’re right. We should start over.” She held out her hand across the table. “Hi. I’m Kylie Andrews. I really enjoyed your concert the other night.”

  Taking her fingers in his, Cole smiled. “Hi, Kylie,” he said, staring directly into her eyes. “I think I’m going to like getting to know you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Night had fallen, and the baking heat of the sun abated a bit—though it never really cooled down at night in Texas. The streetlights made soft yellow circles on the red bricks paving the streets. “Walk you back to the store?” Cole offered.

  “Think you’ll need to wear your sunglasses and hat?”

  His soft chuckle floated through the air. “I think I can probably get by without them this time.”

  They walked in comfortable silence for a moment.

  “The photographers really freak me out.” Kylie’s voice was quiet.

  “Something to do with your dad?”

  She blinked at him in surprise. “It’s that easy to guess?”

  “Not until I saw the pictures in the store. But even I remember seeing him in the tabloids when I was a kid.”

  “It just about killed my mother. She was never the same after he left. And the worst part was that I think she missed being in the spotlight, at least a little.” Kylie shivered, despite the heat. “She spent way too much time staring at the pictures of him out with other women, even after he was gone.”

  “I meant it when I said you get used to it,” Cole said. “But it wasn’t the whole truth. You get used to watching for the photographers, running them off sometimes, posing for them sometimes. But you never get used to the way the reporters twist the truth.” He laughed again, but this time it was harsh. Scuffing his boot along the s
idewalk, he sent a pebble skittering into the street. “You’re not the first woman to run when the tabloids showed up.”

  He reached out and took her hand in his own. Heat sparked between them and Kylie started. She rubbed her thumb across his palm, sending out tiny electric shocks through his entire system. When she glanced up at him, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a half smile.

  “You’re the first one I’ve ever come back after, though.”

  The only one I’ve ever cared about enough to try to find again.

  As they rounded the corner, Cowbelles’ white oval sign glowed from the darkness. Kylie slowed her step to match Cole’s as they approached the store.

  But she didn’t let go of him. That counted for something, right?

  Stopping beside the door, she leaned back against the wall and lifted their entwined fingers. He studied the way his darker skin contrasted with her own. The remains of the concert poster fluttered against her calves, matching the flutter of her skirt and drawing Cole’s attention to her long, shapely legs.

  “You know,” she said, “until I met you, I didn’t really pay attention to music. It was something in the background. And I didn’t pay attention to tabloids either.” She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, and Cole’s breath caught.

  “Do you now?” he asked, giving in to the urge to move closer to her.

  “Do I what?” Her voice had gone breathy.

  “Pay attention?”

  “To you?”

  “Yes.” He was close enough now that his breath fluttered through her hair.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Cole wasn’t sure if she was answering his words or his actions, but suddenly he didn’t care. He reached down to cup her face and leaned in to kiss her.

  She didn’t move as he grasped her shoulders and pulled her in toward him.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her as close as he could. The touch of her mouth was electric as he teased her lips open with his tongue.

  He felt, more than heard, a tiny moan escape her, and he deepened the kiss. She returned it with equal fervor, her lips moving feverishly against his. His breath caught in his throat. He had missed this so much.

  God, she tasted good, like cinnamon.

  He swelled as her breasts brushed against his chest, and his fingers tangled in her hair, his knuckles grazing the brick wall behind her.

  …

  Cole’s palm was warm against Kylie’s cheek. His lips burned against hers and he used his other arm to pull her in tightly against him.

  This was a bad idea, Kylie was sure. But somehow she’d lost track of the conversation, staring at the scar across Cole’s lower lip. The scratchy-soft feel of his mouth against her skin as he kissed the side of her neck made her gasp. His breath brushed across her earlobe as he whispered, “I’ve missed you, Kylie.”

  Definitely a terrible idea. Despite her earlier resolution for a fresh start, all her anxieties about Cole Grayson rose to the surface in an instant.

  Not forever.

  But maybe she could enjoy right now.

  That kind of thinking was what had gotten her picture splashed all over the tabloids less than a year ago. Granted, now that she knew who he was, she could make a more informed decision.

  He lied about who he was.

  Except LeeAnn was right. He hadn’t lied. He had tried to tell her who he was, and she had stopped him.

  What if she were merely another notch on his bedpost?

  Did it really matter? If that’s all she was, then it was a little too late to worry about it—after Cozumel, the notch was already there.

  And if they were truly starting over, then she could, if she wanted, give in to the desire that had been tugging at her ever since he had bounded out onto the stage at his show.

  To be honest, Kylie had dreamed about Cole almost every night since she had walked away from him in Mexico, had remembered his kisses and his touch, daydreamed about seeing him again.

  Although she might not have been willing to admit to anyone—even herself—that she still thought about him, those fantasies meant she couldn’t simply push him away now.

  I did promise him a new beginning.

  This felt a little bit like picking up right where they had left off.

  Could she move past her fear and anger, let go enough to appreciate the moment without worrying about the future?

  She wanted to. But would she be able to?

  Can I enjoy what he’s offering, but still keep my heart safe?

  I’ve already put myself through almost a year of misery. One more night couldn’t hurt any worse, right?

  It might even make up for all that unhappiness.

  We’re both consenting adults.

  We can enjoy each other, then walk away, no strings attached.

  His biceps bulged under her fingertips as she ran them across his arms and around his back.

  And God knows his body is worth the risk.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  She tugged him into a deep kiss, her tongue tangling with his, leaving them both breathless. Her arms snaked up to wrap around him and she leaned against him. She could feel him hard against her through his jeans and her skirt. As if the thought had spurred him on, his hand slid down past her waist and then back up her thigh.

  Better than Mexico.

  Exceeding her memories, her daydreams, or her imagination—Cole’s touch burned through her, bypassing all the rational parts of her mind and lighting on some deep part of her that she had almost forgotten existed, bringing it fluttering back to life.

  She had almost forgotten that, too—this intense connection to Cole that skipped right past her logical self and anchored itself into the core of her being.

  Even their new start couldn’t erase that link.

  Drawing her even closer, he butterflied kisses down to the top of her shirt and flicked his tongue across her collarbone. His knuckles brushed gently across her waist, then moved up under her shirt. Sweeping his thumb along the bottom of her bra, then lightly across her breast, he flicked it against the taut nipple underneath the fabric.

  His mouth slanted against hers, and she darted her tongue in against his lips. Cole groaned against her mouth and Kylie leaned into him and deepened the kiss. After a long, shuddery moment, she pulled away again.

  Cole leaned his forehead against hers, drawing in deep breaths.

  “So,” he said. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

  “I still don’t know if I can deal with the tabloids.”

  His nose brushed against hers as he shook his head. “Let’s try it without them for a bit longer, then,” he said. “See where it goes.”

  …

  Three days. Kylie couldn’t believe that three days had passed since the concert. Cole had shown up at the store every afternoon at closing time, continuing to wear ridiculous costumes. None of them beat the lucha libre mask for sheer absurdity, but the mullet wig, fake mustache, and glasses straight from the 1980s made her laugh so hard that tears ran down her face.

  In all her anger over the pictures the tabloids had printed of them, she’d forgotten that part of their time together. He could make her laugh like no one else she’d ever met.

  She wasn’t sure what she was expecting when he walked through the door that morning, but it certainly wasn’t Cole, exactly as he had looked in the poster she ripped down: blue jeans, white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to right below his elbow, boots, and a cowboy hat.

  “Hey,” he said quietly as the electronic door chime faded away.

  “You look nice,” Kylie replied.

  Cole grinned. “For a change?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “My manager, Billie, scheduled me to go to this promotional thing tonight—a release party for Joe Smythe’s new album. It’s not far from here—near the Will Rogers coliseum. I’d like it if you came with me.” His gaze met hers steadily. “You should know it’s a photo op. There will b
e pictures of us together.”

  She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. “No disguises?”

  “No disguises,” he confirmed. “Just us.” Reaching across the counter, he picked up her hand, which had gone inexplicably cold.

  “That’s a little scary,” she said.

  Somehow Cole’s nod felt as much like support as acknowledgment. “I’d like for you to be there.” He paused, as if waiting for a response. When she didn’t immediately answer, he continued. “And tomorrow, I have this ribbon-cutting thing that I have to do before we head to Little Rock for the next show.” His voice dropped. “I’d like for you to be there, too.”

  He was leaving. Kylie’s heart sank a little at the reminder. But he’d been clear from the beginning of their reacquaintance—it had only been a dinner date. And she had already made her decision to be with him while she could. Any time they had together was simply a bonus.

  She could do this. She could enjoy the time they had, then let him walk away and go back to his normal life. She was not her mother. She could let him leave without allowing it to ruin her life.

  But could she deal with the press? Could she handle being photographed, being discussed in the papers, being publicly linked to Cole Grayson—and then, equally as publicly, unlinked, when the time came?

  I don’t have to let fear rule my life.

  If she refused to spend the time she had with Cole, right now, because it was going to be spent in the public eye, because she wasn’t the only woman he’d been with, or even because it wasn’t forever, then she was as bad as her mother, spending years locked away in a tiny apartment, flipping through old tabloids and letting fear and misery color everything in her world.

  Did she trust Cole to protect her?

  Yes, she realized. But even more than that, she trusted herself.

  I am not my mother.

  I do not have to be afraid.

  “Okay,” she said, her voice clear and firm. “I’ll do it.”

  “One other question, then. Any chance you could get LeeAnn to cover for you this afternoon?”

  “Probably. Why?” Even without knowing what he had planned, she couldn’t help but return his excited grin.

  “Because for once, I have a totally free day, and I want to spend it with you, Kylie Andrews.”