The Kylie Ryans Series: Girl with Guitar, Girl on Tour, Girl in Love (extended edition)

by Caisey Quinn

  Trace thanked him and jogged up towards the small studio on his property. The golf cart he’d covered with custom Mossy Oak panels and ATV tires was waiting for him. He hopped on it and headed to the house. He stopped twice on the way to check on people helping set up for the event. He was overwhelmed with gratitude at how many people were volunteering to do what they could for this benefit. It was an odd mix of people from home and people from Nashville setting up the tents, buffet tables, and sound equipment.

  He’d learned a few things in rehab. One of those things was how to tell who actually gave about damn about him.

  When he reached the driveway he parked the cart and got out. A few more cars had arrived, and the valets were beginning to park them out in the pasture. A sleek black town car caught his eye. It was the kind his label, Capital Letter Records, usually sent artists in. Except he was the only Capital artist here.

  Gretchen was performing tonight, but she was no longer affiliated with the label. And he was pretty sure she’d run late. She was sober but she was still Gretchen.

  He squinted into the setting sun. It was getting late and he needed to get his ass inside and get ready for the show. He pulled the handheld from his hip and hit the button.

  “Headin’ in the house, Claire Bear. I’ll find you after I’m decent.” A few catcalls from the guys rang out over the channel. “That’s my sister, you sick fuckers.” He pressed the button again. “Mike, you can come join me in the shower now.”

  “In your dreams, Corbin,” Mike’s muffled voice answered. Trace laughed but he sincerely hoped Mike wasn’t bending the brunette over in the barn or something.

  He himself couldn’t even go in the barn because of what he’d done last time he was in it. Who he’d done. She was the same reason he couldn’t use the shower in his private bathroom either.

  The memory of Kylie Ryans had become a ghost that haunted his house. And his dreams.

  AFTER SHOWERING in the main bathroom, Trace wiped the thin film of moisture from the mirror above the sink. Sober eyes stared back at him.

  He sighed, tightened the towel wrapped around his waist, and searched for his razor. Enough hiding behind the beard. The people coming to see him perform tonight were donating to his organization, showing their support when he’d done nothing to deserve it. So he’d do his best to give them the best show possible.

  After each stroke of the razor, he rinsed the blade under the rushing stream. When he was done he patted his face with aftershave and met his own gaze again in the steamed-up mirror.

  “You can do this.” Determination set his features into hard lines. He gave himself a nod and stepped out into the hallway.

  Where he was greeted by the sound of his little sister’s voice.

  “You can get ready in my room. It’s right here on the right,” she informed someone he couldn’t see. Shit.

  “Hold up, Rae. I’m not—”

  Kylie Ryans—the real-live flesh-and-blood version—appeared right in front of him before he could finish his sentence.

  Someone whistled.

  “Hot damn, Corbin. You doing a strip tease for cash tonight or what?” Mia Montgomery grinned at him from behind Kylie.

  He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think of anything except, Holy shit. There she stood. Less than a foot away. Her wide blue eyes met his and robbed him of his breath. The shock of seeing her unexpectedly jolted every cell in his entire body to life. Except the ones involved in brain to mouth speech function apparently.

  “Um, Rae said we could change in her room,” Kylie said quietly, avoiding his eyes by aiming hers at his sister.

  Her soft, sweet drawl was music in his ears. His mouth went dry as he stared at hers.

  Rae stepped between him and Kylie in the narrow hallway. “Oh God. Sorry. I didn’t know you were—”

  “Yeah, I had to shower. Thought people might prefer the cleaned-up version.” His words came out about as choked as he felt.

  Rae’s expression reflected the same sheer panic he felt as she looked from Kylie to him and back again.

  “Well this was sufficiently awkward,” Mia deadpanned as she pulled Kylie aside. “We’re just gonna go get ready now.”

  “Right. Got it.” Trace backed up into the bathroom doorway to let them pass, never once taking his eyes off of her. When she was out of sight, he leaned against the wall and fought to catch his breath.

  He still wanted her so damn bad. Still craved her like nothing else he’d ever wanted.

  Great. Just what he needed. Another addiction that would likely kill him.

  He clenched his fists and stormed down the hallway.

  So maybe he’d learned two things in rehab. The first being you found who actually gave a damn. The second was, it was the people you loved, the ones you needed, who had the power to destroy you. Who could rip everything you’d worked for away in a single second. With a look. A smile. A touch.

  Her touch would undo him. Undo everything he’d fought to overcome. But damn if he didn’t want it more than air. More than music. More than anything.

  The image of Steven Blythe standing behind her in her apartment flashed behind his eyes.

  An overwhelming flood of painful images unleashed themselves, tearing through him so fiercely he couldn’t stop them. Steve kissing her. Touching her. Holding her.

  He couldn’t even hit anything to get a modicum of relief from the swirling anger and pain building up inside of him for fear of scaring Rae half to death. And it was his home, for fuck’s sakes. This was what it meant to be sober. He had to feel every-fucking-thing. Let it wash over him, pound him down, and beat the living hell out of him.

  Once he was safely locked in his room, he dressed in jeans and a black shirt. His fingers fastened the buttons on autopilot. As soon as he was fully clothed and had run his hands through his hair, he pulled the handheld device off the dresser.

  “Claire Ann Corbin, if you aren’t in this house in five seconds, I’m coming out there to find you. I suggest you find me first.”

  A few “ooohhhs” answered him.

  And then Claire Ann. “Be right there.”

  He loved his sister. Loved both of them. Very much. But Claire Ann was about to catch some serious hell.

  CLAIRE ANN rushed into her brother’s bedroom and shut the door behind her. Her heart broke wide open at the sight of him sitting on his bed with his head in his hands.

  “Rae invited her, Trace. She contacted someone at the label and pretended to be me. She’d overheard us stressing about the event on the phone. She thought it would help.” His sister reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, I don’t want her here any more than you do. But Pauly called around and apparently the label was pushing for it too. They asked her to attend and maybe perform. Apparently her attendance drew in some of the last-minute sponsors. I’m sorry I didn’t make the connection sooner. I thought—”

  “Did she bring anyone?” He looked up, and his eyes were full of an emotion she didn’t have a name for. A mix of pain and longing and desperation.

  Claire Ann knew he was asking because Kylie had a boyfriend. According to the tabloids anyway. A rocker dude with tattoos all over the place that was from their area. She’d been too many years ahead of him in school to know him, but she was pretty sure Trace did. Rae wasn’t the only one guilty of sneaking a peek online now and then.

  “Just the American Idol girl.”

  “Right. Okay. Is she going to sing or what?” His eyes hardened and he stood. Claire Ann knew this meant he was patching up his wounded heart and resuming with business as usual.

  She cleared her throat and checked her watch. “Yeah, um, as long as it’s okay with you she’ll go on right after the auction. She’ll sing first. Then Gretchen. Then you. After that, we’ll wrap up and you’ll thank everyone for their contributions. Some people will want autographs and photos and then we’ll shut it down. We could head out now and try and get some of those handled so we can wrap u
p even sooner. Sound okay?”

  Her brother nodded and headed towards the door. “Is she—” He cut himself off with a deep breath. “Is she still in the house?”

  “No. Rae just escorted them out.”

  Relief smoothed his features. “Good.”

  She wanted to hug him. To soothe him like she’d tried to do when he was a little boy. Tuck him in bed and sing him a song until he fell asleep. They’d grown up in hell, but they’d gotten each other through it. He was going through his own personal hell now and there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it.

  “Stop.” He shook his head before she could say anything. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man. I’ll live.”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for the two of you, Trace. Everyone deserves to be happy.” Claire Ann bit her lip. She sincerely hoped he believed that too. Her biggest fear was that he wouldn’t approve of her relationship with the man who made her happy. “Did she make you happy?”

  “She made me…” He closed his eyes, and she watched as her brother swallowed hard. “She made me crazy. She made me want a life I could never have. Made me think I could be a man I could never be.” He smiled, but she knew him well enough to know it was forced. “I’m good. I swear. Let’s go.”

  She tried not to be obvious about how closely she was watching him as they headed outside. But she could barely see his face. It was dark now and the lights she’d ordered were mostly focused on the buffet in the tent and the shiny black truck a local dealership had donated to be raffled off. They were using it as a stage tonight. She threw up a silent prayer that once Kylie sang she’d get the hell out of there so Trace wouldn’t have to see her again.

  Cars were beginning to fill the drive like cattle. They had to maneuver in between them to get over to the area where the sponsors were being seated. Her brother smiled and shook hands like a champ, joking and laughing with high-powered professionals even though she was pretty positive he was dying inside.

  Glancing around the tent, she saw Pauly doing pretty much the same as Trace. When he looked up, their gazes met. He smiled apologetically. She looked away.

  A girl could only deal with so many broken hearts at a time. She’d have to put her own away for later.

  “THIS WAS a mistake. I have to get out of here.”

  “Kylie, breathe. That was an unfortunate encounter, but you lived. Chill.”

  She paced alongside the back of the barn with her friend trailing behind. “I can’t be here, Mia. It’s like torture. You don’t understand.” She shook her head and put her hands on her knees. She took a few deep breaths, thankful that she’d been able to send Rae to get her something to drink before she broke down. “Seeing him is hard enough. Seeing him here…oh God. Seeing him with her here? I won’t live through that. I won’t.”

  “You will. I promise you will. Relax, Oklahoma. Sing your one song and we can blow this joint. I can probably get you an actual joint if you want one.”

  Kylie laughed quietly. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “Seriously, do you want another drink? There’s a flask in my purse in the car.”

  It was tempting. Kylie sighed and leaned against the barn. Remembering she had on a sheer top that would probably tear right open if she caught it on a piece of the splintered wood, she stood abruptly.

  “I’m okay. You’re right. Like my daddy used to say, never let ‘em see you cry, right? I’m a big girl. I can do this.”

  Mia grinned. “Atta girl, Oklahoma. So what song are you going to sing?”

  Kylie’s eyes went wide. “Oh sweet Jesus.”

  “That a new one?” Mia’s eyes darted in every direction as she tried to figure out what Kylie might be seeing that upset her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t sing any of my songs.” She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly.

  Her friend scrunched her brow in confusion. “Um, oh-kay. Why not?”

  Panic radiated from Kylie’s gaze as she answered so low Mia could barely hear her. “‘Cause they’re all about him.”

  “HERE You go!” Rae Corbin smiled widely as she handed her a mason jar of sweet tea. They were taking this down-home thing pretty seriously apparently. “I looked for you but I couldn’t find you and then Pauly stopped me to ask if I’d seen Trace. Speaking of Trace, sorry about earlier. That probably sucked for you. I swear I didn’t set you up to run—”

  “Rae. It’s cool. No worries. Thanks for the tea.” Kylie took a deep breath and sipped her drink. Caterers behind her served barbecue that smelled like heaven. But her appetite was pretty much dead. Like the rest of her. Every cell in her body wanted to look for him. Which was odd because he was the last person she wanted to see.

  Mia raised an eyebrow at Trace’s exuberant younger sister. “You remind me of someone.”

  Rae practically bounced to the top of the tent. “I do? Really? Who? Someone famous?”

  “I’m trying to put my finger on it...”

  “Lily. She reminds you of Lily,” Kylie offered. She knew because Lily had reminded her of Rae.

  “Yes she does,” Mia agreed. “You a fan of Lily Taite?”

  “Oh my gosh, I so am!”

  “Figures,” Mia muttered under her breath. Kylie nudged her in the ribs.

  “I’ll have to introduce y’all sometime.”

  Before Rae could respond or do a cartwheel, Trace’s older sister appeared at her side. “Rae, I need to speak with you privately. Now.”

  “See y’all later,” Rae called out as she was practically dragged away. Kylie tried to catch Claire Ann’s eye so she could offer the woman a friendly smile but the two women were gone in a blink.

  “When and if you introduce her to Lily, please warn me so I can flee the tri-state area.” Mia grabbed a glass of wine from the waiter’s tray next to them and nodded at someone approaching. Kylie glanced in the same direction and saw Trace’s manager.

  “Hi, Pauly,” she greeted him. He looked as nervous as a cat at a fireworks display.

  “Hey there, kiddo. How about you and me head over to the stage and get set you set up? You’re going to perform first and then you’re free to go. I’m sure you have better places to be.”

  “In other words, you’re herding me the hell out of here as soon as possible. I’m sure he’s thrilled about me being here.” She snorted even though the truth hurt like hell. She wasn’t wanted here. She could feel it. Had seen it in Trace’s eyes in the house. Her heart grew heavier in her chest, causing a dull ache as Pauly took her elbow. What stung even worse was realizing a part of her—a tiny, stupid, naïve part—had hoped maybe he’d be happy to see her. Or at the very least, not horrified by the sight of her.

  “It’s not…” The manager next to her let out a loud breath as they reached the truck. “It’s a complicated situation, which I think you’re aware of. I mean, you can imagine what all he’s dealing with.”

  Yeah, she could imagine all right. Someone at the label must have pushed her being here. Trace’s new girlfriend was probably going to be super pissed and might make a scene, and Trace looked like he’d seen a ghost when she ran into him. But there was something more important to her than whether or not anyone wanted her around. She bit her lip and gathered all the courage she had.

  “Is he happy, Pauly? I mean, did rehab work and is everything okay with him and Gr—”

  As if she’d been conjured by the mere thought of her name, Gretchen Gibson appeared before she could finish. Which was for the best since the lump rising in her throat was choking the shit out of her.

  The statuesque, raven-haired woman narrowed her eyes as she gave Kylie a hard once-over.

  “What’s she doing here?” Gretchen’s flashing gray eyes flicked over to Pauly.

  “None of your concern, Gretchen. Let’s keep in mind this is a charity event. And that Trace needs for things to go smoothly.” The manager swiftly guided Kylie behind the lights and around to the metal stool that she’d use to
climb into the back of the truck they were using as a stage. But not before she heard Gretchen’s bitter words.

  “Oh, I know all about what Trace needs. What he doesn’t need is her here causing him to—”

  “Enough,” Pauly commanded, using a tone Kylie’d never heard from him. “You’re up next, Gretch. The only words I want to hear out of your mouth are the ones you sing when you’re up on this truck. Otherwise, you’re free to go. We clear?”

  Damn. Who pissed in his Cheerios? Not that Kylie wasn’t grateful for his intervention. But Pauly Garrett seriously needed to get laid.

  “Sure, PG. We’re clear.” Gretchen glared at Kylie once more before stalking off in the other direction.

  As much as Kylie hated to admit it, Gretchen looked good. Pretty, even. Not at all rough and ragged like she had the last time Kylie had seen her. Sobriety agreed with her apparently. More salt in the wound.

  “You good?” Pauly asked her as a young female assistant clipped Kylie’s earpiece in and handed her a microphone.

  She couldn’t help but notice that her knees were shaking as she stepped up on the stool. She swallowed hard and forced her head to nod. “Pauly, the song I chose…It’s…It might…”

  The manager shook his head and regarded her with warm, kind eyes. “It’ll be fine, kiddo. He knows it will be about him. They’re all about him, right?”

  Tears stung her eyes. Dammit. She’d put all this away. Behind her. And now it was crashing into her hard enough to make breathing nearly impossible. “I didn’t even realize until—”

  “Ms. Ryans? We’re ready.” The assistant practically shoved her forward. The crowd wasn’t nearly as big as she was used to and yet it was the most intimidating one she’d ever faced. She was thankful for the blaring spotlights practically blinding her. Because she knew he was out there. And she was about to sing out all the pain he’d caused her right in front of him.

  She forced a smile and focused on her breathing. This was it. Put up or shut up. “Hi y’all! Thanks for coming out tonight. What an amazing organization y’all are supporting just by being here.” Her voice was a little unsteady so she swallowed once more. Once the applause and whistling died down she grinned again. “A Hand Up is truly something special. I was raised by a single parent and I know firsthand the struggles many of them face. So reach deep into your pockets tonight, y’all!”