The Lone Star Groom: Bachelor Billionaire Romances

by Taylor Hart

  It made her laugh to think of their argument now, how she’d told him to leave. Ordered him was more accurate. Her lips spread wider as she thought of the dangerous way he could look at her and make her feel like she was helpless and vulnerable. To be fair, she had been both of those things in that moment.

  Would Hale do that? Jump off a ski lift? Carry her to the car?

  Ugh. She hated comparing them.

  This article had taken on a very personal tone. Although it felt good to write the truth about him, about them, she knew she would never use it this raw. Still, it felt good to analyze what exactly had happened yesterday.

  Jumping a bit, she turned back and saw him holding a protein shake to his lips. He had a big grin on his face, and those dark broody eyes were now replaced with happy ones. “Good morning, sleepy head.”

  For a second, it all felt so natural. Her, writing at the table. Him, coming in to check on her, having been up since six, worked out, had breakfast, probably laid down a track, and ridden the horses on his break. Now, he was here with her knocking back a protein shake.

  Her heart pitter-pattered, and she felt happy. “Hey.” She smiled back.

  Their eyes held, and the energy between them was palpable. It appeared that with all their exchanges, whether they liked each other or didn’t like each other, things were intense with Texas.

  “How’s the article coming today?” He looked a bit sheepish.

  She nodded “Better. Going at it from a different angle.”

  Looking mildly interested, he took another sip. “Hmm.”

  “Thank you,” she said and nodded at the crutches. “I’m going to need these for a couple of days."

  He shrugged. “I told you to stop with the gratitude already.”

  She smiled. Yes, that was Texas. On the outside, before knowing the man, one would think he was cold. However, once on the inside, one realized how he was not cold. He was simply a man who did what needed to be done.

  What had he said the night before? A leader led. He didn’t have time to wonder if everybody liked what he did. That’s how Texas lived his life. She admired him for it. He lived his life on his terms. Her mouth quirked up in a smile.

  He looked confused. “What’s the smile about, princess?”

  Not particularly minding the soft way he said princess today, she shrugged. “I just thought of a great title for your next song.”

  “Really?”

  “Livin' Life on Your Own Terms.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Too wordy.”

  “Really?”

  Lowering and lifting one shoulder he winked at her. “Studies show shorter titles sell more songs.”

  “Interesting to know.”

  He grinned. “Not that I care about the studies.”

  She realized he was teasing her. She rolled her eyes.

  He laughed.

  She gestured to him with circles in the air. “For the article I need something that goes with the whole rogue, broody, heroic military theme you have going on.”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have a theme?”

  “A couple of themes.”

  He shook his head. “Well, you can take the hero one out of there.”

  “You got a Purple Heart, yet you still haven’t told me about it.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, let’s get you settled today, and you can be amazed by my musical powers.”

  Not wanting to press him, she focused on his offer. “Are you flirting with me?”

  He squinted at her. “What would you say if I was?”

  Looking back to her computer, she took on a professional tone. “I would say I am only here to get the facts and report them."

  “Hmm,” he said noncommittally. “So do you want to come to the studio today or not?”

  Thinking about how much her mother would love to see her growing closer to Texas, part of her wanted to keep him at a distance. However, the larger part just wanted to know more about this man. She shut her laptop. “You bet.”

  Without her asking, he helped her carry her computer through the house to the studio. As they entered the studio, she was immediately impressed with the hominess of it. There were comfortable-looking couches and a little kitchen. Of course, there was also a bunch of technical equipment and glass that separated the recording studio.

  He pointed to a chair for her then dragged over another chair. “Put your leg up here.”

  She got situated, and he put his hat on the table.

  He took a long drink of water before coming back to her side. “If you don’t mind pressing this button when I give you the go ahead, that would be useful. That way there’s not as much empty space for me to filter through when I’m making sure I got the sound I want." He pointed to another button. “And if you wouldn’t mind pressing this button when I give you the thumbs up, that would also help.”

  He was almost out the recording room door when he turned back. “Remember, this first song is new, so don't criticize too harshly." The door shut behind him.

  She pushed the button labeled ‘Talk.’ “Remember, I don’t like your music anyway.”

  A reflexive laugh came out of him. “True, you just think up titles of songs that would fit my ‘theme.’” Texas picked up a guitar and sat on a stool. There was a large mic at his lips.

  She pushed the ‘talk button again.’ “True.”

  He turned to look at her and said, “When I give you the thumbs up, push the ‘record’ button.”

  She nodded.

  He gave her a thumbs up.

  She pressed the button, and he began strumming his guitar.

  The day I first met you, well it certainly wasn’t my best,

  Like fire and ice, it felt like nature was putting us to the test.

  Then I saw you crying on that lazy summer night, and I knew my heart would never be the same.

  As I watched you pour out all your pain.

  You said—it’s been hard, but I’m doing it. Trying to live up to my dream,

  It’s been hard, but I’m doing it, and I don’t care what you think.

  I had to smile and shake my head because it was like looking in a mirror—we’re all just trying to matter—in this crazy world of fear.

  Her heart pounded, and her mouth went dry.

  Staring at her through the glass, no longer strumming, no longer singing, his eyes seemed to see to the depths of her soul. She felt exposed, naked, how had he seen all of those things inside of her so quickly?

  She was supposed to be the one observing him, writing about him. What kind of crap was this? It ticked her off! Texas Waters would not scoop her!

  Chapter 10

  Texas watched her through the glass. He saw her flinch and go pale. He’d stayed up last night writing the song about them. He wasn’t going to play it for her … but there was something about this woman that made him want to play it. Something … so unimpressed with him. It actually made him want to impress her. He never felt like this about women these days. Never. Music was his personal private thing, and he never showed it in the early stages, except to his band. Never to normal people.

  He began the other new song he’d written yesterday, letting himself go in the music. Taking himself to a place of peace inside of his mind. Getting lost in the wave of it. Music had been the constant in his life since the Army. He’d always sung. Always wrote lyrics in a notebook, even during his service. After playing for about an hour, he put his guitar down and half expected she wouldn’t be there.

  She was. Still staring at him with the same fierceness as before.

  Getting up, he went to the door and crossed out of the studio.

  Liberty sat with her laptop open on her lap, her hands poised above the keys. She shook her head at him.

  “What?” he asked, pretending like he didn’t know.

  “Nothing.”

  His heart hammered in his chest. He looked at the time and tried to be nonchalant, even though he knew he’d went far past
nonchalant by writing a song about her. “Okay, then. My band is coming in about twenty minutes.”

  “Do you want me to leave?” Looking offended, she narrowed her eyes.

  “No.”

  She looked angry. “We will talk about that song later.”

  It struck him as sort of funny that even though she was giving him a threat, she was still so proper about it. He lifted his shoulders. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” After a moment, she let out a long breath. “I’ll just move to the couch and observe if that works for you. They know I’m doing the article, right?”

  Not understanding why he was having all these feelings about her shook him up a bit, but he mentally shrugged it away. “Of course.” He reached out and took her computer, then helped her get settled on the couch.

  Texas got them each a water bottle and sat on the stool by the buttons and technology. He turned away from her. “The guys should be here any minute.”

  “You wrote that song about me,” she said quietly.

  Caught, he shrugged. “I thought we would talk about it later.”

  “I can’t believe it.” She looked mystified.

  “Why?” He refused to be afraid of the music that hadn’t left him alone last night after talking with her. “I wrote what I felt like you were feeling, but you obviously connected with the words. So you tell me—is that song about us or the on again, off again boyfriend?”

  She scoffed. “We are not the same, Texas. No way.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

  He laughed. Man, he liked teasing this woman. Putting his hands up, he said, "Let’s take this opportunity to get some more interviewing in.”

  She still glared at him. “Are these ‘official questions’ or do you still want veto power?”

  Yes, that’s what he liked, the feisty girl who knew her mind. Still able to work an angle even when he knew she wasn’t happy about that song.

  “Only if I still get to ask you questions too.”

  A furrow passed over her brow. “I’m the one here to scoop you, Texas. Not the other way around.” She let out a breath. “That song … it was so personal.”

  Deciding to play it off, he took a sip of water. “You don’t know if that song is about you or not.”

  Surveying him, she shrugged. “Fine, let’s talk about your father.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t want to talk about his father, but it was actually preferable to talking any more about that song. “His cancer is spreading, and we weren’t close while I was growing up. Is that enough?”

  She typed a few things turning to him. “This article is supposed to be up close and personal. Why weren’t you close growing up?”

  He wouldn’t tell her the truth, but he told her something that sounded reasonable. “I wasn’t an easy child. I got into a bit of mischief here and there. Dad worked a lot. It was hard for him to deal with me.”

  Studying him for a few seconds, she leaned back. “There’s something you’re not telling me, again. Just like last night. There’s something you’re leaving out.”

  He sighed, unsure if he liked how easily she was beginning to read him. “My dad liked to kick my butt. A lot.”

  She stared hard at him. “I read, in a different article, that your dad beat you up sometimes.”

  Anger stirred inside of him. He didn’t believe in airing dirty laundry.

  He caught her eyes then looked away. “Yeah, we’re not dealing with that garbage.”

  She went still.

  Shaking his head, he tried to get himself in check. “Dealing with old family stuff never helps anyone, does it?”

  Her voice went back to detached professional. “I guess. It’s never comfortable for a child to wonder if or why their father hates them.”

  Emotions he had long ago stored away threatened to break out in response to the counselor stance she’d assumed. Waving a hand, he sucked in a breath. “I guess I’m just a cliché country song too.”

  She wasn’t typing. There was more, he could tell she could feel it.

  He glanced at her computer. “Not interesting enough to write down?”

  Closing her laptop, she shook her head. “Everyone has parental problems,” she said lightly. “I don’t believe in exploiting them for a good article.”

  Their eyes held, and he felt another layer of trust form between them.

  The door chimed, breaking the moment, and Texas got up to go let the band in.

  For the next five hours, Texas and the band and the producer worked to lay tracks down. He had introduced her as a reporter doing a spread on him for The NYT when everyone first arrived. She’d been casual about it, joking they could give her the good stuff.

  It was interesting to watch his band interact with Liberty during breaks.

  His backup singer and good friend, not to mention an amazing guitar player, Sloane Kent, took an interest in her immediately.

  A tinge of jealousy coursed through him, and he didn’t like it. Texas tried to finish laying down the track, but kept getting distracted watching through the glass as Sloane and Liberty laughed together.

  Finally, his producer, Jimmy spoke through the microphone. “Tex, why don’t we call it for today.”

  Normally, Texas would have pushed through it, but not today.

  As the band joked and got themselves together, Sloane stayed next to Liberty.

  Texas went to her side and heard Sloane say, “Well, Ms. Wright, you can do an article on me anytime.” Texas did not miss Sloane’s flirtatious wink.

  She smiled up at him sweet as pie, Texas thought. She shrugged. “You never know, Sloane.”

  Great, already on a first name basis with Sloane.

  Texas turned to Sloane, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder. “It’s pretty rough having to spend so much time with this little lady.”

  Sloane cocked a questioning brow at Texas. “I bet.”

  Liberty cleared her throat. “Texas has been very hospitable, and he just keeps trying to impress me with some heroic antics.” She shook her head. “Really, he just gets boring sometimes.” She winked at him.

  Their eyes locked, and Texas felt nervousness run through him. He liked her teasing him.

  Sloane gave Texas a knowing look that said, “Oh, it’s like that.” He began moving away from them, picking up his guitar. “You guys want to catch dinner with us? We’re going to a steak place.”

  “Nah.” Texas looked at Liberty to confirm.

  She gave him a look that said she understood he wasn’t going without her. She waved a hand in the air. “You guys go ahead.”

  Yeah, right. Texas had spent the last couple of choruses unable to get this woman, and all the questions he now had, out of his brain. It’d been hard for him to focus. He needed to find out more about her. “No.” He flashed her a smile. “I have to pick your brain about song titles.”

  Liberty gave him a patronizing look, and he laughed.

  Sloane hesitated. Looking between them, he seemed to make a decision. His expression shifted to one of defeat as he turned to go. “Catch you guys tomorrow.”

  Texas said his goodbyes to the group and then asked her. “Are you ready to eat? I’m starving.”

  He picked up her laptop for her, and she grabbed the crutches and stood. “I feel bad you’re stuck with me. Why don’t you just go ahead and go out with the band?”

  He had a different plan. “Is this because you have a strict policy about not dating the people you’re interviewing?” He teased her.

  They walked out of the studio, and she hesitated on the deck, the crutches beneath her arms. “This isn’t dating. This is me interviewing you.” She gave him a confused look.

  He stepped closer to her, drinking in her fresh strawberry shampoo smell. “Oh, don’t worry, when I’m officially dating you, you’ll know it.”

  She hesitated before shaking her head. “I’m not interested.”

  Texas tried to keep his ego in check around this woman. “So you say.” Texas turned and l
ooked out across Montana’s land. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was all oranges and reds.

  “That’s beautiful,” she said softly.

  He turned and watched her watching the sunset. Her blonde hair, pulled back at the nape of her neck, her perfect skin, the smell of her. Dang—the girl was breathtaking. “Yeah it is.” The words came out before he meant to say them.

  When she turned to look at him and their eyes connected, he knew he didn’t regret those words. This energy between them was different than it’d been before. Now the energy was undeniably palpable.

  She gave him a slight smile.

  Something stirred inside of him, seeming to awaken things he hadn’t thought about in a long time. Innocence, maybe. Even though, to hear this woman talk, you wouldn’t think she was innocent. No, she could be razor blades on steel when she wanted to be.

  Texas moved to the sliding doors of the house and opened them, waiting while she went through.

  Moving past him with her crutches, she stopped in the kitchen. “I can chip in for a pizza or something.”

  He put her laptop down on the counter and shook his head, moving into the kitchen. “Not a pizza kind of night,” he said, going to the fridge and pulling out a couple of pieces of chicken he’d stuck in there early that morning. He pulled out some seasonings and some olive oil, putting the chicken in a light marinade. He measured some brown rice and started a pot boiling with water. “Sit,” he said without glancing at her. “Get off the ankle. I’ll get you some more ice.” He let out a light laugh. “You can tell me what lies Sloane told you.”

  Still not looking at her, he held his breath. He wasn’t sure if she would sit or not, but she seemed to resign herself and sat at the table to prop her foot up. “The swelling's gone down a lot. Thank you for making sure I always have ice.”

  “Mm-hm.” He got some vegetables out of the fridge and began cutting them up.

  She let out a sigh of appreciation. “Well, Texas Waters, expert chef in the kitchen, who knew?”

  He did look at her now, giving her a lazy smile. “Gotta take cooking into your own hands when you wanna eat at odd hours.” It’d never been a big thing for him to cook. His mother had done a good job of it, but once he’d gone military, he’d tried to learn some tricks. Later, with all the touring, he couldn’t count on a set schedule.