Country Music Cowboy

by Sasha Summers

  Loretta didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at the door. Should she laugh or cry? It was like she’d been pulled into a soap opera or a Lifetime movie. But this is real. All the horrible words and threats… They were real. Did CiCi King have that kind of power?

  The whole damn time CiCi had been ranting, she’d been silent, reeling from what was happening. But now words were bubbling up and clogging her throat.

  “Loretta?” Sawyer was standing in the door, his face surprisingly concerned. “Was that Mrs. King?”

  Loretta nodded. Yes. That was Mrs. King. She just threatened to destroy my career if I didn’t stop sleeping with Travis. She almost laughed then. Almost. “She…she was looking for Emmy Lou’s dressing room.”

  “Try again.” He stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.

  She stared at him, willing her heart to slow. “What? Why are you here?”

  Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest. “I saw Mrs. King leave your dressing room. She tends to leave quite a wake wherever she goes.”

  I have people watching.

  For all she knew, Sawyer was working for CiCi. It made sense. He was closest to Travis—closest to all of them really. They treated him more like family than an employee. She stared at him, long and hard, wishing she was better at reading people. Not that Sawyer was exactly easy to read.

  He crossed the room, his eyes on her face, and crouched by her chair. “It’s my job to protect the Kings.”

  CiCi is a King. He had to be working for CiCi. Why else would he conveniently show up seconds after CiCi left behind a web of threats? “She was looking for Emmy Lou’s dressing room,” she repeated.

  Sawyer ran a hand over his short-cropped hair, frustrated. It was an unnervingly familiar gesture. Almost like Travis when he ran his fingers through his hair. Sawyer didn’t have the same hair but… She couldn’t help but study the man. Up close this way, the similarities were more obvious than ever. She’d read that dogs start to look like their owners and married couples start to resemble one another. Was that the case with a bodyguard and his client?

  It was a ridiculous idea. But no more ridiculous than the other idea, the one growing louder and stronger the longer she looked at Sawyer.

  Who was Sawyer? What was his last name? Could he… Was he Hank King’s son? That night, at the dinner table. Krystal and Jace’s reaction. Sawyer’s too. Margot called him Travis’s doppelgänger. Or brother?

  But if he was Hank’s son, he’d be loyal to Hank. He wouldn’t be feeding information to CiCi. Things had just become far more complicated.

  “Loretta—” Sawyer stared up at her, struggling to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

  The dressing room door swung open. “Ready?” Travis paused. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” Loretta slipped from the chair, clasping her hands behind her back. “I guess I’m ready.” Breathe. Smile. And put distance between herself and Travis.

  CiCi wasn’t the only reason to start putting distance between herself and Travis. It was about self-preservation. Her career. Her reputation. Her heart. She didn’t want to admit that, somehow, someway, he’d found a crack to slip in.

  It doesn’t matter.

  CiCi had given her the strength to do what she’d been needing to do for some time now: End this. End all the looks and the smiles and the secret touches and the long nights in bed. All of it.

  “It looks like something.” Travis was frowning, glancing back and forth between them.

  “Looks can be deceiving.” She took a final glance in the mirror.

  She hadn’t changed out of her final costume. It was vibrant peacock-colored sleeveless minidress. The fabric was covered in strands of beads and crystals that swayed when she walked. With unsteady hands, she smoothed her hair, added a touch of dark burgundy lipstick, and straightened her shoulders.

  Whatever silent standoff was happening between Sawyer and Travis was their problem. She walked between them and out the door, moving as quickly as she could to the hall lined with fans that led to the exclusive meet and greet.

  She knew Travis was following her; his boots echoed down the concrete hall of the Staples Center. Not that she turned or looked back. She was too rattled to face him right now. When she faced him, she needed to be calm—firm. Not open for discussion.

  The fans were the best part.

  So many of the fans lining the hall had LoveJoy posters and shirts for her to sign. She posed for selfies and hugged four different girls who were sobbing over Johnny. They missed him. They’d loved him too. Of course, they were screaming and crying for an entirely different reason when Travis showed up.

  She barely glanced his way, wincing as the sound level increased five times over.

  He’d smiled. One smile and this was the reaction.

  Yeah, she got it. His smile made her pretty damn giddy too.

  By the time she entered the meet and greet, she had a steady throb at the base of her neck. She did her best to be charming, make some witty comment or observation, smile and laugh, and move on. Avoiding eye contact with Travis was a challenge because he seemed to be everywhere—directly in her line of sight.

  When they started taking photos in front of the black Three Kings step and repeat, she was relieved. Now she wouldn’t have to see him. But then they were grouped closely together, so close that the scent of mint and leather flooded her nostrils and turned the hard lump in her stomach to something molten and alive.

  And you, Loretta, are bad luck. CiCi’s words.

  Over the years, she’d tried to convince herself that wasn’t true. That she could make her own luck. But since Margot’s diagnosis and Johnny’s passing, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe CiCi was right. Maybe she was bad luck. Travis had come so far—she didn’t want to be the thing that set him back. She couldn’t be.

  ***

  Travis sat on the leather couch built into the side of the tour bus. With all the tweaks and improvements to the King’s Coach I and II, little things like the hum of the wheels on the interstate were barely detectable. Travis’s fingers slid along the neck of the banjo in his lap, playing through the slight changes Krystal had made to the time song. It perked up the tempo and made the whole thing flow more smoothly. Good changes.

  “Better?” Krystal asked, a pencil tucked behind her ear.

  He nodded.

  “All good changes,” Travis said, glancing across the bus—at Loretta. Bad changes… Whatever the hell was happening between them.

  “No surprise there,” Jace sounded off, pulling Krystal against his side. “You’ve got a gift, woman.”

  “You’re just saying that because you have to.” Krystal shook her head.

  “No, I’m saying that because you’re talented.” Jace kissed her. “And I love you.”

  Travis groaned. “You two are on the wrong bus for that.”

  “It’s a kiss.” Krystal sighed. “I’m not a fan of this new bad attitude of yours. Since working out isn’t mellowing you out, maybe you should look into getting laid.”

  From across the bus, Loretta choked on her water.

  “Are you okay?” Emmy Lou, sitting beside Loretta, began patting her back.

  Travis glared at his sister.

  “What?” Krystal was all smiles.

  He stood and carried his banjo to the back of the bus. His father had several custom cases built in to safely transport some of their favorite instruments. He secured the banjo and checked his watch.

  He dialed Archie’s number.

  “Hey, man,” Archie answered, energetic as ever. “How’s life on the road?”

  “Pretty good.” He shrugged. If he was being honest with himself, he felt—confined. “A little cramped.”

  “Actual space or headspace?”

  One of the things Travis appreciated most about Archie
was how much the older man got Travis. He was a self-proclaimed hippie, with long hair and a penchant for sandals, but he and Travis clicked. He’d been a jazz guitarist for years, so they could have entire conversations in a form of musical shorthand.

  “Both.” Travis chuckled.

  “What’s weighing on you?” His tone was grave now. “I hear it, man. Let it out.”

  Travis paced the six-foot space in front of the instrument cabinets. “We talked about—”

  “Loretta? How’s that going?”

  “I guess we hit pause.” Not that he had any fucking idea how or why or what had happened.

  “You’re good, though?” Archie asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on the road, but I’ll pack a bag if you need me.”

  “I appreciate the offer.” Travis chuckled. “I’m good.” As far as drinking anyway. He didn’t know how to explain it, really. But once he’d made up his mind to cut the drinking out of his life, he had. Nothing had made him question his decision. At least, nothing had made him second-guess that yet.

  They went over his Urge Log—something he’d relied on a lot in the beginning. He hadn’t needed it in a while, but he understood why Archie was asking him about it. He was worried about Travis.

  “You’re in the lion’s den, Trav,” Archie said. “Don’t let the fear or the doubt get a hold of you. You’ve got this.”

  Travis nodded. “I know my four points, Archie. Motives and goals. Beliefs. Emotions. And behaviors. They might as well be tattooed on my brain.”

  “You get to thinking you need a meeting, let me know and we’ll get you set up with one online.” Archie paused. “As a long-married man, I’ve got a little advice for you. Don’t leave things unsaid. You talk, you know. You don’t… Well, that’s when your brain can have a field day. Especially us creative types.”

  Talk. Simple. Easy. Since she wouldn’t answer his texts, he’d go old-school and do this face-to-face. “Will do.”

  “All right, man. You keep on being a singing badass. Check in same time next week?”

  “Sounds good, Archie. Thanks, man.”

  “I got your back, man. Peace.” Archie hung up.

  Travis chuckled. Peace? He hadn’t felt all that peaceful since he’d walked into Loretta’s dressing room last night.

  He’d never been a jealous man.

  Sawyer wasn’t only his bodyguard—he was his friend. As such, he knew Sawyer wouldn’t make a move on Loretta.

  Dammit. He hated the seed of doubt that had been planted.

  Sawyer’s face. Loretta’s face. She’d been jumpy, eager to put space between them—and keep it that way for the rest of the night.

  Loretta had made it clear from the beginning. This was sex. Only sex. He was falling for her—hardcore—but she didn’t know that. If she did, she’d probably have kicked his ass to the curb.

  What had changed? Something had. And he didn’t like it.

  Not only had he spent the night alone, she hadn’t bothered answering any of his texts. That was the part that knotted his insides. The silence.

  He didn’t hold with silence. Silence was easy to fill with lies and fears. There wasn’t going to be any silence between them. Not if he could help it. It was pretty straightforward stuff. She was done with him—with this… Or she wasn’t.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, the whisper of a melody floating through his mind.

  Only one night. Ooh-hoo. Just one more night.

  Don’t try to fight. Ooh-hoo. You hold me tight.

  Only one night. Ooh-hoo. Girl, that ain’t right.

  He hummed a few bars then headed back down the hall to the main living area of the bus. Loretta was crooning to Clementine, curled up in her lap. Watson, Emmy Lou’s black cat, was doing his best to wedge himself next to Clem. Every time Watson tried to lay down, Clementine would roll over and dislodge the cat altogether.

  “I think she’s doing it on purpose.” Krystal sighed. “She’s a jealous little thing and doesn’t want to share you with that bad ol’ kitty cat.”

  “Watson is not a bad kitty cat.” Emmy Lou picked up the massive black cat. “Are you, baby? Auntie Krystal didn’t mean it.”

  “He’s the size of a panther now, you know that, right?” Travis asked. “You can’t carry him around like a baby when he weighs almost as much as you do.”

  “I can carry him around however I want, isn’t that right, Watson?” Emmy Lou touched noses with the cat. The cat’s purr was so loud they could all hear it.

  Loretta was smiling.

  “You need a fur baby,” Emmy Lou said.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Loretta kept rubbing Clementine’s stomach. “I’m happy to borrow Clem or Watson. For now.”

  “I think they’re happy with that arrangement too.” Travis said, watching as Watson slipped from Emmy Lou’s hold to lie on top of Clementine. “That’s showing her who’s boss, Watson.” He chuckled as Clementine’s head popped out from under Watson, the white poof on her head more bedraggled than ever.

  “What’s the word today, Emmy Lou?” Jace asked.

  Emmy Lou had purchased an impressive stack of magazines and papers to read on the road. If there were tidbits she found interesting, she’d share.

  “You and Krystal are having a baby.” Emmy Lou smiled.

  “This is the fifth one?” Jace asked.

  “At least,” Krystal agreed. “Or I’m experiencing one long pregnancy.”

  “Momma is pregnant.” Emmy Lou looked horrified.

  “The headline actually says, Hank King a father again? Or Kegan Scott’s a first-time father?” Emmy Lou said.

  Travis was only halfway listening. Watching the color bloom in Loretta’s cheeks was far more interesting.

  “That’s a long headline.” Krystal wrinkled her nose. “News must be super slow if we’re now including geriatric pregnancies.”

  Loretta’s gaze fell from his, but he saw the way the front of her shirt wavered.

  “I’m not sure Momma’s geriatric.” Emmy Lou shrugged.

  “How about we change the subject.” Travis held up his hands. “Anything other than our mother’s reproductive status.”

  Emmy Lou flipped through a few pages, stopping to read headlines as well as their horoscopes. “Oh, Loretta, yours is way better than mine.” She cleared her throat. “A secret will lead to a deep and abiding love. A person from your past will threaten your happiness but truth will prevail.” Emmy Lou looked over the magazine. “Juicy stuff.” She sighed. “I miss my husband.”

  “That is so weird.” Krystal shook her head. “Husband. Can’t you just say you miss Brock?”

  “I miss Brock.” Emmy Lou smiled. “My husband.”

  Travis laughed, running his fingers through his hair. Loretta was laughing too. For a split second, the tension between them melted. Her smile was genuine, fleeting—but sweet. A series of those smiles, tangled in his sheets or held close against him, played rapid-fire through his brain. He wanted that back. Wanted that smile back in his arms where it belonged.

  Chapter 14

  Ten days. Ten days of dodging and hiding and fighting the urge to track him down and make him love her. Ten days of reminding herself that she was doing the right thing.

  The tour convoy consisted of three tour buses and one equipment bus. And while the record label had retrofitted the LoveJoy bus, inside and out, she had a hard time sleeping there. After spending most of her waking hours with the Kings and Jace, the quiet of her bus was…deafening. Without something to distract her, her mind invariably returned to Travis. She knew she was being cowardly. She knew she should face him and offer up some sort of explanation, but she couldn’t.

  If she tried to look him in the eye, she’d cave. It terrified her.

  Once they arrived in Salt Lake City and found their hotel,
Loretta headed straight to her room. She wasn’t sure what was worse, being on the road with no chance of anyone joining her or being in an executive suite knowing Travis could be her neighbor.

  It doesn’t matter. She stood aside for the bellhop to bring in her bag and smiled her thanks. It didn’t matter that she saw Travis and Emmy Lou—or that he saw her.

  She pushed her door closed, turned the extra lock, and rested her forehead against the cool surface.

  Way not to overreact.

  Apparently, that was the only reaction she had to Travis. Over-the-top. Highly in tune. Performing with him had been the sweetest sort of torture. If she’d thought she’d craved him before, there was no comparing that to what she was feeling now.

  What you can’t feel.

  She unpacked her bag, inventoried her minibar and fridge, scrolled through every channel on her television, and ran herself a steaming bubble bath before she gave up and called Margot.

  “Lori-girl?” Margot yawned.

  “Did I wake you?” She rested her head on the edge of the tub, the fizz of bubbles echoing in the mostly white marble bathroom. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” There was a smile in her voice. “You okay? You sound…strung tight.”

  “I am.” She closed her eyes. “Margot…I made a huge mistake.”

  “Hold on, I’m turning on my bedside lamp.” There was some rustling. “Okay, fire away. Just tell me you didn’t accidentally kill someone and you’re not pregnant.”

  “Those are the two things that immediately come to mind?” Loretta shook her head, pushing little icebergs of bubbles away. “And in that order?”

  “In my book, those are huge mistakes. Stop stalling and tell me what huge mistake you made.”

  “I slept with Travis.” She blew out a slow breath, her lungs aching.

  “Well, I figured as much, Lori-girl. It was pretty clear to everyone on the back porch that the two of you were on the way there.” Margot paused. “And?”

  “And?” She groaned. “That’s it. That’s the mistake.”

  “That’s it?” Margot waited.

  “No…” It hurt to draw in breath. “I…I let him in, Margot. And I don’t know how to…stop.”