Can't Let Her Go

by Sandy James

  “Brad wanted you at Words and Music.”

  She had him there.

  Setting her cup aside, she moved to stand in front of him. “What’s going through that crazy head of yours?” Her eyes searched his. “Ethan, what’s wrong?”

  Trying to avoid the conversation, he stepped to the side to escape and downed the last of his coffee. He rinsed the mug and tossed it in the dishwasher. Then he turned around to find Chelsea with her arms folded under her breasts, leveling a hard stare at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “This will never work if we’re not honest with each other.”

  “Oh, come on. I just thought you’d want me there.”

  “Bullshit. This isn’t about me or Brad or…” Her eyes widened. “Chuck. It’s about him. You don’t trust Chuck. You don’t trust me.”

  “I’m getting dressed,” he announced and fled the kitchen.

  She was right on his heels. “You’re jealous?

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. And you’ve got no reason to be.” Her hand snaked around his upper arm and dragged him to a halt. “Look at me, Ethan.”

  Although he probably looked as pouty as a two-year-old about to be punished, he did as she asked.

  “I wish you’d tell me the truth,” she said.

  “Fine. I’m jealous.”

  “Which means you don’t trust me.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t trust him. I mean, he’s got one of the worst reputations in Nashville. He’s almost as bad as…well, as bad as…as…”

  “As bad as who? You?”

  “Yeah, Chelsea. He’s as bad as me. At least as bad as I was.”

  “Glad to hear you’ve put your serial dating behind you.”

  He couldn’t help but grin at the polite way she’d referred to his less-than-stellar behavior, and he was grateful she wasn’t holding it against him. Then a frown swiftly followed. “I don’t want you hanging around him.”

  Her frown matched his. “So you really don’t trust me.”

  “I told you, I do.”

  Since the discussion was becoming as futile as a cat chasing its own tail, she let him go to his room by himself.

  * * *

  This wasn’t an issue she was going to drop, so Chelsea checked the time to see if she could pin him down after he got dressed or if they’d have to have the discussion later. It was close to nine, so she could afford to wait. Assuming he’d listen to her.

  Damn, the man was stubborn.

  Good thing she was too.

  Ethan came back to the living room, tucking his shirt into his jeans.

  “Ready to talk now?” Chelsea asked, finally spotting her phone. She grabbed it off the end table and parked herself on the sofa. A quick look at the screen showed several missed calls and a slew of texts, but she wasn’t addressing those until she and Ethan worked through their problem.

  “I need to feed the horses,” he insisted.

  “Joe will handle it.”

  He kept casting yearning glances at the door.

  Why were men always so hesitant to talk about important things—like feelings? She wasn’t letting him escape that easily. “Do you know Lance Watson?”

  “The actor? Didn’t you date him?”

  She nodded. “Not for long, though. Wanna know why?”

  “’Cause he’s a dick?” Ethan tossed her a smirk.

  “Actually, yes. Because he’s a jealous dick. An uber-jealous dick. I can’t handle another jealous boyfriend.”

  The smirk shifted to a fierce frown.

  “He made my life a living hell. I couldn’t go anywhere without him grilling me on who I was with or what I’d been doing,” she explained. “Lance never trusted me. If I was out of touch, he’d start calling everyone to find out where I was. My mom. Dad. Addie. My agent. Once I got pulled over by a cop when I was driving down I-24. Found out Lance had told that poor cop that I’d been kidnapped or something asinine like that. Just another instance of Lance trying to hunt me down. He alienated everyone and I didn’t need a stalker in my life.”

  Ethan’s scowl had faded as she told the story. “He really was a dick.”

  “Still is, according to his ex-wife. She tracked me down after they eloped to Vegas. Two weeks with him and she wanted out. Like he’d make it that easy. I had to hire a private detective to keep tabs on him for a while because I was terrified of him. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “Didn’t you write that song about him?” he asked.

  “‘Back Off, Bubba’?” A smile formed on Chelsea’s lips. “Yeah, I did. He wasn’t too happy about that.” She let the smile fade. “I’m not living like that again, Ethan. Never again.”

  “I won’t be like that,” he insisted. “I was just…” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Look, all this is new to me. Okay? I’ve never…I don’t know how to…I’ll keep a lid on it.”

  What she got from his aborted sentences was that Ethan had never been jealous of anyone before. The thought that he hadn’t been in love, that there’d been no woman about whom he cared enough to be jealous, hit her hard.

  Was she his first?

  Her phone distracted her, vibrating against her palm. She checked the screen then took the call. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Are you okay?” her mother asked. “I called last night. Got kinda worried when I didn’t hear back from you.”

  “I…um…stayed at Ethan’s last night.” Although she’d told her mother a little about the budding relationship, Chelsea still kept some things to herself. Much as she cared for him, there were times in the three weeks they’d been together that she wondered if they were doomed from the start. Nothing had come easy to the two of them so far, and that showed no signs of improving.

  He perked up, probably at his name. “Who’s that?”

  The question smacked of more jealousy. “My mother.”

  “Oh…” After letting out a resigned sigh, he said, “Sorry. That sounded bad didn’t it? Jealous, right?”

  Chelsea gave him a curt nod. “I have to get going, Mom. What did you need?”

  “I didn’t need anything, honey,” her mother replied. “Just hadn’t talked to you in a while. I guess I was a little…lonely.”

  Guilt draped over Chelsea. “Sorry. I’ve been so busy. I had three songs to finish for the December album, and now I need to start on the duets.” Which was partly the truth. But she admitted to herself that she’d allowed her budding relationship with Ethan to dull her pain from the loss of her father. Her mother didn’t have that luxury. “How about I come over tomorrow?”

  “Lunch would be nice. If you’re not too busy…”

  “I’m never too busy for you, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you too. See you at home tomorrow.” Chelsea ended the call.

  Ethan sat next to her on the couch and took her free hand in his. “I’ll try to rein in the jealousy. I promise.”

  “That’s all I ask.” Perhaps the time had come to let Ethan know a little more about her world. If he was developing feelings for her as quickly as she was for him, she needed to share more of her life with him. “Why don’t you come to lunch with me tomorrow? To, you know, meet my mom.”

  “You want to introduce me to your mom?”

  “Yeah, I do,” she admitted.

  “I’d like that.”

  One more issue needed a solution. “How about you handle Words and Music today, and if you get a lull in the action, you can come to Brad’s?”

  He didn’t appear too happy, judging from his frown. But he nodded. When she tried to stand, he pulled her back to the couch. “Thank you.”

  “For letting you come to the recording session?”

  “For taking such good care of me yesterday.” He brushed a kiss over her lips.

  She wanted more, so she put her hand behind his head and held him still while she gave him a much deeper and more satisfying kiss. By the time she ended it, she found herself straddling his thighs. The man had t
he skill of making her forget herself.

  “I should go,” Chelsea said softly. Regretfully. Her resolve to wait a little longer before they got too intimate had cracked in wake of Ethan’s kisses.

  He wrapped his arms about her and stood, acting as though she weighed nothing.

  With an appreciative sigh over his strength, she put her feet on the floor.

  “I’ve got chores,” he announced in a husky voice that brought a smile to her lips.

  On tiptoes, she gave him a no-nonsense kiss. “Then let’s get this day started.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Things weren’t going well at all, and Chelsea was struggling not to let her frustration show.

  Chuck Austin might’ve come from good stock, but he couldn’t sing worth shit. Take after take, he went flat. Or sharp. Or couldn’t keep the beat. She’d heard better singing at high school musicals.

  The man wasn’t exactly tone deaf, but he came pretty close.

  Brad’s voice buzzed through the headphones. “How about we take a short break and get something to drink? Then we can try one more take.” He shot Chelsea a consolatory look.

  She only hoped the rest of the duets weren’t this much of a challenge. “Sounds good, Brad.”

  “We’ve already done…what? Twenty?” Chuck asked.

  Closer to thirty, but since he sounded perturbed, she struggled to pacify him and reminded herself that he’d agreed to do this for charity—for her father’s memory. “Brad’s right. We could use a short break.” She glanced through the glass at Brad. “Maybe we could listen to a couple of the takes? See if we can do a little tweaking that might help?”

  “Might be a good idea,” Brad replied.

  With a shake of his head, Chuck pulled off his headphones and set them on the music stand. “I’m getting a beer. Maybe that’ll help.”

  Chelsea gave him a smile. “Sure, Chuck. Whatever you need.”

  He headed out of the booth and up the stairs.

  Putting her own headphones aside, she checked her cell. She’d turned it off to minimize distractions, and once she powered it up, several text messages appeared. Addie asking questions that Chelsea tried to quickly answer. Her mother checking in. And Ethan.

  She’d been pleased that he’d gone ahead and worked at Words & Music instead of hanging around, scowling at Chuck and probably intimidating him. Ethan’s text asked how things were going. She replied honestly.

  Slow. Really slow.

  His reply came quickly.

  Sorry to hear that. Mind if I stop by to see if I can help? WM is dead tonight.

  Considering the trouble they were having recording this song, she was more than happy to have his support.

  “I can clean things up a lot,” Brad said when she joined him at the control table. “But probably not enough.”

  “Yeah…” She glanced at the stairs to see if Chuck was close enough to hear them. Thankfully, he was probably scrounging around the kitchen for a beer. “I’m getting really depressed.”

  “Hard to believe he’s Vivian Austin’s son. The woman had golden pipes.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if Ethan might be able to help. If nothing else, he could be moral support for her, because at the moment she feared she’d bitten off more than she could chew. “Would you mind if Ethan came over?”

  “I wondered if he’d be able to stay away,” Brad said with a laugh. “Sure, have him come over if he’s got stuff covered at Words and Music.”

  “Thanks.” After firing off a quick text to Ethan to ask him to come whenever he could get away, Chelsea let out a sigh. “I could use a drink. Want me to grab something for you, Brad? A beer?”

  “No, thanks. I’m gonna play around with this,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of ideas I wanna try.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “I’d like to make it more up-tempo,” he replied. “It’s a great song, but when Chuck sings it, the thing drags.”

  She nodded. “Might be a nice way to bring it into our era. Think you can take a little of the emphasis off the steel guitars? That might give it a more contemporary feel, too.”

  “Absolutely. That’s a good idea, Chelsea.”

  Now she understood why he’d wanted to prerecord the instrumentals. Each individual part of the band was now in his control. If he wanted more horns, then all he had to do was adjust a toggle.

  She set a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for doing this. It means the world to me.”

  “My pleasure.” He put his headphones back on and started fiddling with his equipment.

  Voices drew her upstairs. Maybe Savannah had finished helping her daughter with her homework and was talking to Chuck. When she hit the top step, Chelsea recognized one of the voices through the open door.

  Ethan’s here.

  “Well, well,” she said when she entered the kitchen. “That was a quick drive, Mr. Walker.”

  Good Lord, the man’s smile had the power to make her stomach somersault.

  “I hit the speed of sound,” he teased.

  How long had he been sitting in the driveway, waiting for permission to come in?

  The waiting made all the difference, though. Ethan was proving not to be like her ex. And that was all that mattered.

  Sidling up next to him, she loved how he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Then he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.

  Chuck was leaning against the large kitchen island and he stared at them with knit brows. “Didn’t know you two were an item.”

  Savannah set a longneck in front of Chuck. “No one knows, so please keep it to yourself, Chuck. Okay?”

  “Sure thing,” he said, still watching Chelsea and Ethan closely. “Can’t imagine Ethan ever settlin’ down. Would be a helluva surprise.”

  “An understatement if I ever heard one,” Savannah said with a wink to the couple.

  Something about Chuck’s tone raised Chelsea’s antennae, but she couldn’t exactly put her finger on why she was so concerned.

  Paranoia, maybe? So far, with the exception of some rumors that had started when Ethan had attended her Black Stallion concerts, the media had pretty much left them alone. Addie fielded a few calls as reporters asked for confirmation of the juicy story, but Chelsea’s social media accounts weren’t loaded with questions about whether she and Ethan were really together. So far, Chelsea had kept silent, hoping some other celebrity would do something stupid to draw the attention their direction.

  Ignoring Chuck, Ethan gave Chelsea a squeeze. “How are things going? Did you put the song to bed?”

  “Not yet,” she replied. “We’re having a little trouble.”

  Savannah frowned. “That doesn’t sound good. I think I’ll head down and see if Brad needs anything—some tea or a snack.” She headed down the stairs and out of sight.

  Ethan turned Chelsea to stare into her eyes. “What’s causing you trouble?”

  While she wanted to tell him that Chuck couldn’t seem to carry a tune in a bucket, she simply shrugged.

  “Would you care if I go listen to a couple of takes?” Ethan asked.

  “I’d like that.”

  Chuck glared at her. “Too many cooks spoil the soup, you know.”

  It took all Chelsea’s control not to roll her eyes. She sent up a quick prayer that the rest of the duets wouldn’t be nearly this difficult. At least most of the other children of Nashville stars she’d lined up to work with had experience singing. Hopefully, those recording sessions wouldn’t be as agonizing as this one.

  “Oh, come on, Chuck,” Ethan said. “Sounds like this has been uphill so far. Maybe a new ear can help.”

  “Couldn’t hurt,” she added.

  “Fine, whatever.” He chugged the rest of his beer and set the empty bottle aside. “I’m hitting the john, then we can do a couple more versions.” He made a point of checking his watch. “After that, I gotta go.”

  Alo
ne with Ethan, Chelsea opened up. “I’m not sure a couple more takes will be enough.”

  “That bad?”

  She nodded. “Brad and I are switching a few things up. Maybe that’ll make a difference.”

  * * *

  Hearing Chelsea sounding rather resigned for the first time made Ethan angry. Whatever was going wrong with the song had to be Chuck Austin’s doing, because Chelsea could sound fantastic singing the phonebook.

  When they made their way downstairs, she quickly turned and kissed him, making him smile against her lips. Not only did he enjoy her expressions of her feelings, he’d grown accustomed to them. Chelsea was so open with her affection, so giving. She made him want to be the kind of man who deserved her.

  When she pulled away, Ethan snaked an arm around her to tug her back. Setting his lips against hers again, he nibbled and teased until she opened her mouth. He thrust his tongue inside.

  His desire was consuming him whole. She was all he thought about day and night. The taste of her lips. The warmth of her skin. What she’d feel like when he was buried deep inside her.

  There’d never been a woman who’d made him wait this long before he could make love to her.

  Make love?

  More like fuck.

  Even comparing Chelsea to the other women who’d drifted in out of his bed was like putting grape juice up against Dom Pérignon. They weren’t even in the same league. When he was with her, it would truly be making love—maybe for the first time in his life.

  Chelsea would like hearing that.

  He wanted her and he hoped to hell she’d feel the same by the time they were at Brad and Savannah’s upcoming wedding.

  Savannah’s chuckle made him end the kiss, but he still held Chelsea close. “We’ll continue this later,” he whispered.

  “Absolutely.” Wiggling out of his arms, Chelsea hurried to Savannah, and the two of them started chatting as Chelsea made her way downstairs.

  “So you two really are a couple,” Chuck said as he strolled back in. “Lucky man.”

  Chuck had never been one of Ethan’s favorite people. In fact, he was exactly what Ethan despised—the kid of a music star who acted as though he deserved fame because of his mother’s hard work. When Chelsea told him Chuck had agreed to sing with her, Ethan’s first thought had been that Chuck never did anything nice—not without an ulterior motive. That was the root of Ethan’s jealousy, which he’d mostly gotten under control once she’d brought him to his senses.