Country Music Cowboy

by Sasha Summers

  One thing he liked most? The sounds she made. He was the loud one, that was true. But it made every little gasp and moan, every hitch or rasp of her breath that much hotter. He worked hard for those little victories, knowing she couldn’t hold back—knowing she wanted him so bad.

  She lay on her stomach, panting, all soft and sweat-slicked beneath him.

  “Travis?” Her voice was soft. Not sleepy. Wary.

  “Loretta?” He leaned forward to press a kiss against her shoulder blade.

  She turned her head on the pillow, glancing over her shoulder. “Did you know Guy was going to ask you about that night?”

  “I suspected as much.” He pressed another kiss against her shoulder blade then rolled onto his back, at her side. “It was the first interview.” He stared up at the ceiling and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m ready for all the firsts to be over. I’m ready to move on.”

  She was watching him. “And the woman?”

  He glanced at her. “The woman from the video? I didn’t know about that.” He shook his head. “It sort of pissed me off.”

  “Why?” She turned onto her side, obviously surprised, to face him.

  “Because her story makes what I did okay, in a way.” He shook his head again. “But there wasn’t any justification for scaring the shit out of that boy.”

  She seemed to be considering his words. “I hear what you’re saying about the kid, but… Travis, that could have happened whether you were drunk or not. If that had happened and I’d seen it? I’d have taken a tire iron to the man’s truck after that—drunk or sober. Hell, he’d have been glad it was only his truck.”

  He smiled. “You’d make one hell of an avenging angel.”

  She shook her head, studying him for a long time before she asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell anyone what happened?”

  “I didn’t want to be let off the hook. It wasn’t about the dick or his truck—it was about the kid.” He swallowed. “I put that look on his face. That fear. I did that. He was scared of me. In that moment, I might as well have been the asshat beating the shit out of his wife.” His throat tightened, so tight he had to force the rest of the words out. “That’s the way she’d looked—that’s the sort of fear he’d inspired. He was a complete asshole. And so was I.”

  Part of him wanted her to argue with him. But the other part appreciated that she didn’t. She’d listened to him enough to hear what he was trying to say. Maybe that’s why he kept talking.

  “I’m an alcoholic. I’ll always be an alcoholic. But I’d been damn lucky. I found a program that worked for me, SMART. I talk to my coach Archie at least once a week—he’s on speed dial on my damn phone. My family goes to weekly meetings. I have nothing but support—I always have.” He was studying her, remembering their first interaction. “You weren’t wrong about me—that first day in the studio. A year ago, I was that entitled little fuck who didn’t stop long enough to see the rest of the world didn’t revolve around me. I drank, I partied, and I had everything I could ever want—plus some. I don’t have a DUI, I never hurt anyone or had an accident, I never got anyone pregnant or broke the law. I was damn lucky.” He shook his head. “What worries me the most? If I hadn’t scared the shit out of that kid that night, would I still be that clueless? That willfully self-destructive?”

  They went back to staring at each other.

  “That was all my shit.” He sighed. “I had no right to put that on you.”

  “I asked.”

  “You asked if I knew about the video and Guy’s questions, not about my lightbulb moment.” He tried to tease but it fell flat. Rules or no rules, he didn’t want to jeopardize this thing with her. She wasn’t ready to consider options beyond sex. He was. But there was no way unloading his past discretions onto her was going to win her over to a lifetime of commitment and unconditional love. “Every day, I’m in a better place. Make peace with my past. Manage my present actions and choices. And am intentional with my future.”

  “What does that look like? How do you see your future?”

  With you. He shrugged. “Good.”

  “Good?” She was smiling then. “Is that your five-year plan?”

  He pulled her close. “I’m feeling pretty good right now.”

  Her smile faded slowly, giving her time to slowly withdraw—about the same time there was a knocking on her bedroom door.

  “Expecting someone?” he asked.

  “Only you.” If she didn’t look so panicked, he’d have been pleased with her answer.

  “Want me to hide in the closet?” he asked.

  She frowned. “Can’t we just ignore it? See if they go away?”

  He shrugged. “Fine by me.” But then his phone started ringing. His phone—which was located somewhere between her hotel room door and the bathroom. Krystal’s ringtone.

  Seconds later, Loretta’s phone was going off. Her phone sat in a charging dock on the bedside table, within reach.

  “It’s Emmy Lou.” Loretta held the phone up. “They want me to come to Krystal’s suite? Something about a song Krystal’s been working on?”

  Travis nodded. “Which means that was probably them knocking on the door.” He smiled. “It’s only ten fourteen. They’ll keep it up for a good two hours.” He sat up, running his fingers through his hair. “I should probably go before they come back.”

  “Does this happen often?” Loretta propped herself up on her elbows, watching as she slipped from the bed.

  “Only when she’s been struggling.” He bent, picked up his grey T-shirt, and pulled it on. “Or when she’s excited.” He tugged on his boxer shorts. “Or she needs help with music or lyrics.” He smiled. “I guess the short answer is yes.” He grabbed his jeans off the bathroom floor. “I remember Johnny writing something when we were at the Oasis. He had the same sort of…focus Krystal gets when she’s got a song bouncing around inside her head.”

  Loretta sat up then hugged her knees to her chest. “He did.” She tossed back the blankets. “Since it’s a pj’s party, I guess I need to find some.”

  That was all it took to have Travis seriously reconsidering his course of action. Why the hell was he leaving again?

  “You know, the song will still be there in the morning,” he said, making his way around the bed to Loretta—standing naked and damn near perfect.

  “You said they wouldn’t give up?” Loretta pointed out, rifling through the suitcase that sat on the room’s luggage rack. “You should go ahead and I’ll meet you there once I find the top.” She pulled on a pair of green check pajama pants.

  “You could drop those and we could go back to bed,” Travis suggested, reaching for her pants.

  “I think you need to go support your sister.” She tugged her pants away. “If this is what you do, you don’t think they’ll get suspicious if you don’t show up? They might already be suspicious.”

  He was pretty sure they were all already suspicious.

  “Right now, they all like me—I think.” Loretta sighed.

  “And you think us having amazing sex will make them not like you?” Travis shook his head.

  She was laughing. “No. But they might if I get in the way of the way things work. If, for instance, you don’t show up when you’d normally show up because of me, that might make them not like me.”

  “Because we’re having sex,” he added.

  “Yes, fine.” She was laughing. “Because we’re having sex.”

  “Amazing sex.” He pulled her into his arms. “I like it when you laugh.”

  “You seem to have that effect on me.”

  “Interesting.” He gave her a quick kiss, then let her go. “Now you’re saying I am funny. Maybe you’ll come ‘round and decide you like me after all.”

  She shrugged into a Three Kings T-shirt. The shirt was on the tight side. Hugging her curves—acce
ntuating her curves.

  “You’re going to have to change.” He shook his head. “Otherwise, you’re being plain mean.”

  She stared down at her chest. “This is one of my favorite shirts.”

  “It’s now one of my favorite shirts.” He swallowed. “But I’d rather not share all of you with the rest of my family.”

  “I’ll change.” She sighed. “Now, go.”

  He finished dressing—minus a sock—and located his phone. Krystal’s text was short and to the point. Get your ass over here.

  Yes, ma’am. Boots in hand, he headed toward the suite Krystal and Jace were sharing.

  Jace sat, a guitar in his lap, a guitar pick tucked between his lips. He nodded in greeting.

  “There you are.” Krystal looked up when she walked inside. “Where’s Loretta?”

  He paused, glancing back and forth between his sisters. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Emmy Lou’s been trying to call her. And text her.” Krystal frowned. “Think she’s okay?”

  “I’m sure she’s fine.” He shrugged, flopping onto the couch beside Emmy Lou.

  “Daddy called. No cancer,” Krystal said. “But they do want to do the vocal node surgery thing.”

  “That’s a huge relief.” Travis leaned his head back against the couch. “When is it scheduled?”

  “I told him he had to wait until we can all be there.” Krystal nodded.

  “Good.” Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how worried he’d been about his father. It’d suck if he lost his singing voice, but it couldn’t compare with Travis losing his father. “Best news in a while.” He smiled at his sisters.

  Emmy Lou patted his leg. “How did your interview go?”

  “Guy James?” Jace asked.

  Travis nodded. “He’s decent.” He shrugged. “He asked. I answered.” Except for the video part—that part still bothered him. “I think the duet went well, though.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.” Emmy Lou sat, curled up, in the corner of the hotel room couch.

  Travis was up as soon as he heard the light knock on the door. “Hey, Loretta. Come on in.” He was relieved to see she’d found her pajama top. “I like your pajamas.”

  “Emmy Lou said pajama party,” Loretta said, her hands clasped before her. “So…”

  He stepped back. “Come on in.”

  “We’re all here.” Krystal clapped her hands. “I know it’s late and you probably all had other stuff to do but I think—I hope—this song will be worth it.” She handed each of them a copy of her song.

  “This was the muffin, pancake, cherry pie song?” Travis asked.

  “All of that?” Emmy Lou’s eyes were round.

  “You lost me.” Loretta scanned the sheet music.

  “Krystal cooks when she’s working on a new song. Bakes, mostly,” Jace explained.

  “Got it,” Loretta said, scanning the sheet music. “Johnny used to clean.” She pulled a long strand of hair over her shoulder, twining it around her fingers as she read.

  Damn but she was beautiful.

  “Cleaning? That’s a way more productive process.” Krystal shrugged.

  “And way less delicious,” Travis pointed out, sitting back in his chair and turning his attention to the sheet music. He tapped his foot, playing through the song in his head, softly singing the chorus.

  The blood that binds is not enough,

  It’s who stands up and chooses us.

  You’re scarred and broken, that is true.

  But take my hand, we’ll make it through.

  Time. Time to let go.

  Time to stand tall.

  Time. Time to be brave.

  Time to trust love.

  All I know is…

  I lose time when I’m with you.

  Travis glanced at Loretta. There’d been a few times in his life when a song had been so true it nearly knocked him to his knees. This was one of those times.

  Chapter 13

  Loretta’s heart was thumping hard. It was all good. Tonight had been…amazing. And standing here, now, holding hands with Three Kings and Jace Black while the packed auditorium roared with approval? She was pretty sure things couldn’t get much better than this. She was proud. Of herself, the Kings, the performance—it was one hell of a show. Confetti cannons and strobe lights, costume changes and so much more.

  They took another bow, waving and smiling as they left the stage after their third encore.

  “I guess that means they liked it,” Travis said once they were headed toward their respective dressing rooms.

  “It was the song.” Krystal winked. “Perfect way to wrap up the show.”

  Loretta had her doubts. While she loved the song Krystal had presented to them last night, she hadn’t realized they’d be performing it tonight. One rehearsal was all they had. One rehearsal to stumble through it—feel out the notes and rhythm—and hope like hell they didn’t screw it up in front of thousands of fans.

  “Ten minutes and meet here?” Emmy Lou asked.

  Loretta nodded, catching Travis’s parting wink before heading to her dressing room to freshen up. The record label had arranged meet and greets after every concert along the way. It was her least favorite part of touring, but she’d manage to grin and bear it.

  But she hadn’t expected to find CiCi King waiting for her.

  “That was some show. You’d think they’d try to do a little better than this,” CiCi said, surveying Loretta’s dressing room. “I thought I was in Emmy Lou’s dressing room but once I saw this, I knew I had the wrong room.”

  “It works.” Loretta shrugged. “Emmy Lou is around the corner.” The room with the large gold star taped to it—the large gold star with Emmy Lou King printed on it. There was no way CiCi was here by accident.

  “Is she?” CiCi perched on one of the folding chairs. “I’ll go find her in a sec. I’m glad I have a minute with you. You go on and do what you need to be ready for the meet and greet, don’t mind me.”

  Don’t mind her? The woman filled up the room. Loretta was pretty sure there was no nice way to ask CiCi King to leave, but, dammit, she’d had an amazing night. With CiCi King lying in wait for her, she suspected her night was about to take a nosedive.

  “I have a friend at Tabloid News Media—TNM?” CiCi smiled. “She told me that your father canceled his interview? Is that right?”

  “I believe so.” Loretta tried to be as noncommittal as possible. Yes, her father had called off his interview. Once Margot had made sure her father got the money he wanted, her father retreated.

  “Why do I get the feeling he might circle back around, eventually?” CiCi was studying her reflection, almost sympathetic. “From what a friend at TNM told me, he’d promised an inside scoop on you and my family too.”

  “He would say that.” Loretta sighed, blotting her cheeks. “It’s not true, of course.”

  “Isn’t it?” CiCi frowned. Well, she tried to frown. It was hard for the woman to be expressive due to the amount of Botox or whatever it was injected into her face. “So you don’t know anything about what he was planning to say?”

  Loretta shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to him since…Las Vegas.” It had been a little over a month but, for Loretta, it felt like another life. “Even then, we talked about the performance.” How he wanted tickets…and money. She’d sent him the money, but not the ticket.

  CiCi stood up, reaching for the brush on the counter. “You know, Loretta. I feel for you. The media’s exploited all the loss in your life, something fierce. Imagine anyone implying you’re bad luck.” She shook her head. “I guess they’ll say anything to sell a paper, I suppose.” She patted Loretta on the shoulder. “I shouldn’t have been so hard on you at Emmy Lou’s wedding. For that, I’m sorry. If you and Hank are developing a friendship, who am I
to stand in the way.”

  Her mind was swimming with CiCi’s words, but she managed to respond to the last part. “It really is a friendship.” Loretta met the woman’s gaze in the mirror. “Nothing more.”

  CiCi nodded, turning the brush in her hands. “I see a lot of myself in you, Loretta. The sadness, I guess. We both have lousy fathers. Mine disowned me for following my heart. Yours is emptying your bank account as fast as you can fill it.”

  An icy coldness settled in Loretta’s stomach. How did she know about her father? And the money?

  “And we have mothers who deserted us. When my father disowned me for marrying Hank, my mother didn’t say or do a thing. Can you imagine a mother doing that?” She shook her head. “But your mother just up and disappeared, didn’t she? That must have hurt. To know she left you in the care of a good-for-nothing.” She sighed. “Your father. Your mother. Poor Margot fighting cancer. And Johnny.”

  She was not going to talk about Johnny with this woman. “CiCi, I need—”

  “No, Loretta. I need you to listen. I have people watching.” CiCi sat the brush back on the counter and looked Loretta square in the eye. “I’ve heard talk that something’s going on between you and Travis—or you and Sawyer. I don’t which is true or if they’re all true, but fun and games are over. Travis can’t risk a run of bad luck, surely you see that? And you, Loretta, are bad luck. And while I feel for you, I do, my family—my son—comes first. You will not screw with his head and send him back to drinking.” Her blue eyes never flinched. “Your daddy needs money. I’ve got money. And if you don’t start behaving yourself, I’ll make sure your daddy gets a whole lot of money to sing whatever song we can come up with. You, your mother, Johnny… I won’t play fair.” She paused. “Don’t make me end your career, Loretta.” With a big sigh, she smiled and headed to the door. “I’ll go see Emmy Lou now. It was quite a show.”