Girl in Love

by Quinn, Caisey

  What the hell was her problem? He was trying to move things along without the dog and pony show. For her benefit. So much for chivalry.

  “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.

  “DON’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 oth
er 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.”

  TRACE 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.

  “Hi y’all,” she greeted the audience, taking a step away from him as she did. “Thanks for having us tonight.” When the cheers and applause died down, she continued. “Trace and I are so excited about this upcoming tour and we couldn’t wait to share the news with our friends at The Rum Room.”

  She paused, and he knew it was his cue, but the words escaped him. She was wearing a red dress. It wasn’t the exact same one she’d had on the last time they’d been here together, but it was similar.

  “Trace,” she prompted. “Would you like to tell our friends our exciting news?” Her expression indicated that she’d barely been able to not call him a dumbass for gaping at her like an idiot.

  “Of course I would.” He turned and flashed his panty-dropping grin at the audience. “Our exciting news is that Kylie and I are expecting.”

  The response was almost deafening.

  A hand smacked him hard in the chest. “We’re expecting y’all to come see us on the road. Because tonight we’re kicking off our The Other Side of Me tour,” she clarified, practically shouting into the mic over the bedlam.

  He winked when she glared at him.

  “Ah yes. That news,” he agreed.

  At the confirmation that he was just kidding, the audience both cheered and booed them good-naturedly.

  Kylie nodded over at Steven, which forced Trace to muster all of his self-control. But even all of his self-control couldn’t keep the smile on his face. He prayed he wasn’t glaring at least.

  The opening chords of the song they’d written together started up, and before he knew it, he and Kylie were well into it.

  The world wants fun and shiny and new. But I save the best of me for when I’m alone with you.

  Tumultuous past or not, they sang in perfect harmony.

  I’ll keep all in, hide it under a grin, but you’re the only one who sees. Yeah you’re the only one who sees, the other side of me.

  Once they were done, the crowd begged for an encore. Trace began singing Waitin’ for You to Call and Kylie chimed in along with the band. But just like everything between them had always gone, it was over too soon for his liking.

  He knew he shouldn’t look at her, shouldn’t let himself fall into those pools of blue he’d nearly drowned in once before. But he’d always had issues with addiction. So he looked. Stared, really.

  She didn’t say a word. But her voice filled his head. “I was broken. Dead inside,” it whispered. “You made me feel alive.”

  It was a funny thing about addiction. During his stint in rehab he’d learned that addicts couldn’t really ever be cured. They just learned ways to abstain. Resist temptation. And even years after abstaining, the smallest taste would put them right back where they started.

  He hadn’t fully believed it until that very moment. Until he’d gotten a taste of making music with Kylie Ryans and realized that since that day he’d walked out on her in this very same bar, he’d been dead inside. Going through the motions.

  But being here, with her, again…had brought him back to life.

  “WHAT THE hell was the meaning of that?”

  “Of what?” Trace looked at her like she’d lost her mind. But she saw it. That spark in his eyes, that mischievous, triumphant gleam.

  “You know what. It was supposed to be one song, Trace. One. And that whole ‘we’re expecting’ thing. Do you have any idea what kind of rumors you probably just started?”

  He smirked, and she felt her blood pressure rising.

  “Relax, Kylie Lou. I
t was a joke. And about the encore—so what? It’s just a song.”

  Her fists clenched at her sides as she stormed out the back exit of the bar. “You are such an ass. What happened to being professional and not crossing lines?”

  “Ky—”

  “No, forget it. I don’t know what I was expecting. Same old selfish Trace. Just do whatever the hell you want and don’t bother considering how it affects anyone else.”

  It had been nearly a year since she’d gotten this upset over anything. She was practically shaking with rage. He was so damn arrogant. She was almost overcome with the urge to slap him. Hard.

  “This really about the song? Or you all worked up about something else?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, I don’t love that you told everyone in there that I was pregnant either.” She folded her arms and glanced around in hopes that her ride would be there. She just wanted to escape to the safety of her apartment. But the back lot was empty.

  “It was a joke. You know, something people say sometimes to break the tension?”

  “Oh, you’re a comedian now? Guess everyone needs a fallback plan.” She tried not to watch as he unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up his muscular forearms, but it took serious effort to keep her eyes elsewhere.

  “When did you get so damn uptight? Am I imagining things or did you use to be more fun?”

  She’d been so carefully holding it together with everything she had. But all of his comments in the bar and his whole ‘let’s just make jokes and have fun’ attitude was more than she could handle at the moment.

  “Fun? You want to talk about fun? Yeah, Trace, it was real fun falling for someone who didn’t actually give a damn about me. And it was even more fun watching him run to someone else—someone he’d promised meant nothing to him—via every tabloid and gossip website known to man.”

  “Kylie, you know how the media is. And I never said she meant nothing—”

  She took a step closer to him, despite how much being in his space scared the crap out of her. But she knew her limits and if he finished that sentence she would break apart into a pile of splintered pieces.