Country Music Cowboy

by Sasha Summers

Sawyer was frowning now. “What are we talking about?”

  “Loretta,” he snapped.

  “And what your mother has on her?” Sawyer asked, his gaze narrowing.

  “No…” He paused. “Wait. What?” He shook his head. “My mother?”

  “That night, in her dressing room?” Sawyer waited for him to nod. “CiCi had just left. From the look on Loretta’s face, I knew something had happened, but she wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  That night… The night everything had changed. His mother was the reason?

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Just when he thought he had a hold of his temper… Why was he surprised. This was his mother. His mother who seemed hell-bent and determined to make everyone as miserable as she was. “What did she do tonight?”

  Sawyer glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Tonight?”

  “I was headed to her room when I saw the two of you leave.” He waited.

  “CiCi wasn’t involved.” Sawyer reached for a cheesy fry. “Donnie Gram is in town. He was arrested for public intoxication and called Loretta to bail him out, then caused a scene on the steps of the jail and got hauled back inside.”

  “She’s back in her room?” Travis asked, debating whether or not to check on her. He wanted to—more than anything. Sawyer, his sisters, his mother, his father… They could all wait.

  Chapter 15

  Loretta woke up with a headache and felt nauseous. She hadn’t slept much—she couldn’t. Every time she closed her eyes, the whole horrible mess at the police station was waiting to replay in her head. She rolled onto her back and pressed her hands to her eyes. She’d crawled on top of her bed, fully dressed, and fallen into a restless sleep.

  She had a handful of text messages and two voice mails but before she could face the fallout from last night, she needed a shower and some coffee. Lots of coffee.

  The shower helped.

  The coffee did too.

  But the voice message from her father had her pouring more coffee and taking some pain medicine too.

  “I don’t want your tickets or your backstage passes. You think that’s going to make up for last night? For embarrassing me that way? I’m ashamed of you, Loretta. Ashamed that you’re my daughter.”

  Margot’s message was next. “Hey Lori-girl, give me a call. This mess with Donnie is all over the place and we need to come up with a press release. Call me when you’re up and moving.”

  Loretta picked at her biscuit then gave up, calling Margot on FaceTime.

  “Morning. You’re looking a bit rough, Lori-girl.” Margot looked all wide awake and energized. “Have you turned on the news this morning?”

  “No. I’m still downing coffee.” She might even order another pot before the morning was through.

  “The good news is, he hasn’t commented.” Margot paused. “All we have is the mugshot, the two of you on the front steps of the police station, and how he was released this morning.”

  That was it? That didn’t sound like her father, at all. He never passed up the opportunity to earn a dollar—or a moment in the spotlight. Unless he had something waiting in the wings. “I’m…surprised.” She made a face at Margot.

  “Let’s just count our blessings,” Margot said. “What do you think of this?” Margot read out the very short and concise statement she’d come up with. “Donnie Gram was arrested for public drunkenness. His daughter, Loretta Gram, paid his bail.” She broke off.

  “What about the fact that he was taken back inside after yelling at me then heckling one of the police officers?” Loretta asked, sipping her coffee.

  “There were no additional charges filed.” Margot shrugged. “I see no reason to mention it.”

  “You’re the boss.” Loretta nodded.

  “Am I?” Margot laughed. “How’s everything there?”

  “Everything?”

  “Travis?” Margot sighed.

  “Things got a little complicated last night so…” Loretta shook her head.

  “Today is a new day. You make the most of it. And try not to let this thing with Donnie get you down.” She waved. “Break a leg tonight.”

  “Will do.” Loretta blew kisses and hung up her phone.

  Today is a new day. But nothing had changed—not really. They’d do a rehearsal and sound check around three. Have time for dinner. Hair and makeup and getting ready for the show at nine. She and Travis would sing their four songs together and she’d act like she wasn’t falling for him—because being in love with Travis King was the stupidest thing she could do. Not just for her, but for him too. After the final ensemble encore, they’d climb into their buses and make the overnight ride to Phoenix. A lonely, too quiet bus ride that would lead her back around to all the reasons she was bad for Travis, why they’d never work out, and why she couldn’t love him—even if she wanted to.

  She eyed her bed, still made up and tidy except for the pillow she’d used. If she wanted to, she could take a nap. She should take a nap. It was going to be a long day and, even though the thing with her father wasn’t as cataclysmic as she’d anticipated, the day was still young. But, even with the black-out curtains pulled and the REM-inducing sounds playing on her phone, she couldn’t stop tossing and turning.

  When she threw back the covers, she turned on her favorite baking show, dug out some bright red glitter nail polish, and drew herself a bubble bath. It wasn’t as glamorous as the spa day she, Margot, Emmy Lou, and Krystal had, but it provided a few hours of distraction.

  The Vivint Smart Home Arena was already buzzing with preshow activity. It was one of Loretta’s favorite times to poke around. Right now, the anticipation was high. All sorts of positive energy to draw from.

  Exactly what I need.

  “Hey, Loretta.” Emmy Lou was sitting on the edge of the stage. It didn’t matter that they were just rehearsing; Emmy Lou always looked ready to walk onstage. Her hair was perfect. Long, golden curls that fell down her back with no hint of frizz. She went with light makeup, almost an au naturel look. If her makeup was au naturel, her style was extra girly-girl. A pink V-neck shirt with puff sleeves, white fitted jeans, a hand-tooled belt with her and Brock’s pet name “Bremmy” cut into the belt band, and tan and pink leather boots that had just enough sparkle to catch the eye.

  “Hi.” Loretta smiled, feeling way underdressed next to Emmy Lou. Hair done, makeup, nails newly painted and shiny, and a favorite navy blue belted shirtdress and broken-in brown leather boots. It was only since this tour had started that she’d put much effort into her rehearsal attire. Not to compete with Emmy Lou, there was no competing with Emmy Lou, but to look nice. For herself. And, maybe, for Travis.

  She sighed, doing as covert a sweep of the stage as possible.

  “They’re not here.” Krystal walked onto the stage, holding her guitar. She wore black and purple leggings, an oversized black sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder, and her hair was in a barely holding bun. “Travis or Sawyer. Oh, hey, Loretta. Have you heard from Travis?”

  “No.” Not today. She might have ignored his text and his phone call last night after the whole disaster with her father, but she’d had to. Her father yelling, “You’re a coldhearted bitch I’m ashamed to call my daughter,” had felt like a slap in the face. She’d wanted comfort so much it hurt. And Travis… Well, Travis was Travis. If she’d answered him, she’d have gotten comfort and so much more. It would have totally invalidated the last few weeks of distance she’d put between them.

  “They’re not answering my calls.” Krystal was frowning. “Or my texts.”

  “It’ll be okay.” Jace slid his arm around her waist. “They’ll be okay.”

  But even Loretta could tell he was worried.

  “Did something happen?” she asked, then backtracked. “Does this… I mean, I’m sorry about my father. If this—”

  “No, no.” E
mmy Lou shook her head. “Oh, Loretta. I’m so sorry. I’m a terrible person. I should have checked on you first thing this morning.” She stood. “Are you all right?”

  Loretta nodded. “I’m fine. But if this has caused a problem—”

  “It didn’t.” Krystal shook her head, cradling her guitar close. “I think, maybe, Travis overheard something last night. Something Emmy Lou and I were talking about.” She glanced at Jace. “Something that would have really, really upset him.”

  Loretta’s heart dropped. Travis… “But Sawyer is with him?” Sawyer was levelheaded. He might not be the most emotive man on the planet but, in a crisis, he’d remained calm. Last night, she’d appreciated that.

  “I don’t know.” Emmy Lou shrugged.

  It wasn’t the first time Loretta felt that prick of unease along her spine. Whatever had the three of them worked up, they knew more than they were letting on. Whether she had the right to it or not, it angered her.

  “If Travis… If you’re worried about him drinking, shouldn’t we call his sponsor?” Loretta asked. “That’s what he’s there for. And, if Travis needs help, then we should get it for him, shouldn’t we?”

  Jace nodded. “Yeah. I’ll call Archie.” Phone in hand, he walked off the stage.

  Loretta forced herself to breathe. She’d been here before. With her father. With Johnny. Teetering on that line of despair and anger and hope. Despair that all they’d worked toward was gone. Anger that they’d let themselves slip. And hope that there was still time to step in and stop this before it got out of hand.

  But, dammit, Travis wasn’t her father. It had taken her a while to accept that Travis King wanted to get sober. He’d had that a-ha lightbulb moment. He was all about owning his decisions and choices. He wouldn’t do this.

  He wasn’t Johnny either. Travis had a strength Johnny never had. Johnny’s light wavered long before his death. But Travis? She’d never know a person to burn as bright as he did. He was too alive, too vital and determined—stubborn even.

  “He won’t drink,” she said. She said it and she meant it. “He won’t.”

  Krystal and Emmy Lou looked at her then, uncertain.

  “Loretta, you don’t know—”

  “I don’t need to.” She interrupted Emmy Lou. “I trust him. That’s what he needs. You to trust him.”

  Emmy Lou reached out, her lower lip trembling. “How can you be so sure?”

  Loretta took her hand. “I just…am.” She squeezed her hand. “He’s so damn stubborn. After all the gossip and radio and trash-talk, he won’t drink just to prove the whole damn world they’re wrong about him.”

  Krystal’s smile was reluctant. “She’s got a point.”

  Jace returned. “I called. He said he’ll call him, but he’s not worried.”

  “Well if his sponsor isn’t worried and Loretta’s not worried, maybe we should trust that he’s doing something important and we should rehearse?” Krystal asked.

  As far as rehearsals went, they sounded terrible, but Loretta appreciated the effort they all made. They had dinner together in one of the greenrooms, sharing cartons of Peking duck, chow mein, kung pao chicken, and spring rolls while helping Jace solve a celebrity crossword puzzle.

  By the time they split up and headed for their dressing rooms, Loretta was on edge. It wasn’t that she’d changed her mind about Travis; she hadn’t. But what if something had happened to him? What if something was wrong—something that had nothing to do with his recovery?

  He’s fine. She looked her reflection in the eye. He is fine.

  Wardrobe was first. The costumer had designed matching dresses for all three women. Skin-tight and suede, with small cutouts of stars and hearts. But tonight, her peacock dress felt too hot and extra tight. Her hair was smoothed and ironed and sprayed while color and foundation, cream and powders were dusted and sponged and blended until her reflection was bright and shiny and technicolor.

  He is fine.

  Final touches like the black choker necklace with the peacock stone heart and shimmering peacock earrings signaled the end of all the prep work.

  She almost fell out of her director’s chair when her phone vibrated.

  He’s here, Emmy Lou texted, followed by a string of thumbs-up, smiling, and clapping hands emojis.

  She hurried down the hall to wait in the wings of the stage for her entrance, for her and Travis’s first song, “Close and Deep.” When the lights dimmed, she maneuvered her way across the cords and tape, light stands and support poles, until his broad back was in sight.

  Travis. She could breathe and the fear that had a vise-grip on her heart slowly began to fade.

  He turned right about the time she reached his side. The opening song had a lot of flash. Drums and confetti, a guitar solo, and a whole lot of Travis stirring up the crowd. The lights came up and Loretta drank him in. Travis. Those blue-green eyes. Right here. He was breathing fast and there was a hint of sweat on his brow, but it was his smile that did her in. That smile reached into her chest and decimated the walls she’d spent years reinforcing to protect her heart. One smile.

  I love you. Dammit. I’m a damn fool. But it was true. She reached out, grabbed the front of his shirt, and held on.

  His hand caught hers, holding it against his chest.

  The roar of the crowd was deafening, a sea of flashes rippled across the auditorium, and with a shake of his head, Travis let go of her hand to play first few notes of the next song.

  He sang each word like he meant them. Like he was singing for her alone. And when he reached the chorus, Loretta was spellbound by the hunger in his eyes.

  ***

  Travis wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted a woman more than he wanted Loretta Gram. Right now. He stalked off the stage and headed toward her dressing room, a man damn near possessed. He knew he had two songs. Two. And he’d have to be back onstage. But between then and now, he needed Loretta. If he couldn’t touch her, he’d damn well look his fill.

  He’d spent the whole damn day chasing down the worst of her life, looking for any threat or wound or person that Momma could dredge up and use against Loretta. If he needed to hold her close and know that she was okay, he had good reason.

  He’d deal with his mother soon enough.

  But now that he was standing outside of her dressing room, he wasn’t sure what to do. Loretta Gram was the first woman his heart had wholly committed to. He’d had no choice in it. It was done. Immovable. Permanent. And he was more than okay with it.

  Would Loretta want a recovering alcoholic with a womanizing past and a family worthy of their own reality television show? She sure as hell deserved better.

  When the door opened, he wasn’t sure who was more surprised—him or her.

  “Travis?” She stepped back, her voice soft and husky.

  “You…” He cleared his throat. I love you.

  “Come in?” She stepped aside for him. But once he was inside and the door clicked shut, she grabbed his shirt front, her hand twisting the starched pale blue cowboy-cut button-up.

  She was mad? Upset? He couldn’t tell—the roll of emotions kept going. He’d never meant to hurt her. She’d been hurt too much already. If it was up to him, he’d stop her from ever hurting again. Or, at the least, shouldering the hurt with her so it wasn’t her burden alone. If she’d let him love her, that is. Because, damn, when it came to this woman? There was no end to the amount of love he had to give. “Loretta?”

  She shook her head, her hold tightening so that two of the snaps on his shirt popped open. Her gaze zeroed in on the exposed patch of his stomach and a switch was flipped. The heat from her topaz eyes incinerating any protest his brain conjured.

  Her fingers slid across his skin, his hand tangled in her hair, and there was no stopping either of them. The taste of her was like a match to gasoline. The touch of her tongue. The ra
ke of her nails. Her gasp when he spun her around and pressed her back against the door.

  There wasn’t enough time.

  His lips trailed along her neck, sucking and clinging until she was all but panting.

  When his mouth covered hers, he pulled her in close. If he couldn’t love her body, he’d love her mouth. Explore the heat and softness and taste that inflamed him until there was nothing but her.

  Like now.

  Fitted against him.

  Soft and warm.

  He tore his mouth from hers, groaning. “I have to go.”

  “I know.” She wasn’t touching him now.

  “I don’t want to go.” He needed her to know that.

  “I know,” she whispered, her gaze locked with his. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “Good.” He had to smile then. “Remember that later. When this is over and I come looking for you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, cradled her head in his hand, and sighed again. “Dammit, woman, you make it hard for me to do the right thing.”

  She turned into his hand and pressed a kiss against his palm. “You better go. I think you’d be missed by, oh, several thousand screaming fans.”

  If he didn’t look at her, it’d be easier for him to leave. Not that there was anything easy about leaving. He took comfort in knowing they’d have more time later. After Phoenix, they had a lot more time. Three days. Granted, his father’s surgery had been scheduled so they could all be there, but there was a whole hell of a lot of them to share the load. He and Loretta would have the time to hash things out—without concerts or tour buses or the lack of privacy to interrupt them.

  Knowing that buoyed him through the rest of the concert and gave him something to hold on to.

  It didn’t make it any easier to look his sisters in the eye. Or Jace, for that matter. The only reason he’d managed to set aside his frustration with Sawyer was because of Loretta. Sawyer was adamant he wanted to help. He had the connections and the know-how to find all the information his mother had tracked down for later use. If Travis tried to go it alone, who knew how long it would have taken him. It didn’t mean they were good—he’d even said as much to Sawyer—but their common goal put all the rest on hold. For now.