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

by Caisey Quinn

  It wasn’t the Tailgate Twins shaking their asses on the tailgate behind him. It was Kylie Ryans.

  Seeing her up there with a tiny shirt that left little to the imagination and a jean skirt that barely covered her perfect ass nearly killed him. Right in front of a live audience.

  He shook his head and grinned when she pulled a microphone from God knows where and began singing his song along with him.

  With the regular dancers, he was supposed to jump up on the tailgate and let them grind all over him. But he had no fucking clue if that would be the plan now.

  He knew his voice was probably shaking as he hopped up on the tailgate to stand next to her. He kept his eyes on her to see if she’d give him any clue as to what the hell was going on. And also, because she looked really fucking good up there.

  Her sweet voice took over, and he decided to switch places with her. She could sing and he’d do the ass shaking.

  She smiled when she realized what he was doing and he smiled back.

  It felt like he could breathe, really breathe, for the first time since he’d walked out on her at The Rum Room over a year ago.

  After they finished his song, they sat on the tailgate and sang their duet.

  Looking into her eyes as they sang the lyrics they’d written together did something to him he couldn’t explain. Or understand. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to understand.

  But one thing was for sure. Mike was right. He’d never been one to back down or walk away from what he wanted. And what he wanted was her.

  So when the song ended and the stage light began to dim, he placed his mouth on hers to the sound of thousands of screaming fans.

  “WHAT THE hell was that?” Kylie whirled on him once they were backstage and their mics had been removed.

  “What?” Trace looked genuinely shocked and slightly amused by her outburst.

  “Are you kidding me? What do you mean, what? You can’t just go around kissing people in front of the whole damned world!”

  Her heart pounded so hard she could barely hear herself yelling over the sound of it pumping blood into her ears.

  Trace stepped into her personal space. “I’m going to have to disagree with you there, darlin’. I don’t know what you’re so mad about. You were the one shaking your ass in the middle of my show. What did you think was going to happen?”

  A small crowd had gathered around them. Lulu tugged at Kylie’s arm, but she jerked free. Pauly stood off to the side with Hannah and the guys in Trace’s band. She might have imagined it, but it looked like Danny and Mike were smiling.

  “I thought,” she said, trying her best to lower her voice, “that maybe, just maybe, you’d grown up and were going to be true to your word about not crossing lines. But I can see that I thought wrong.”

  “Relax, Kylie Lou. It was fun for the crowd. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of all those satisfied people feeling like they got their money’s worth.”

  “You’re an asshole.” She folded her arms and glared at him. She couldn’t figure out how in the world he could act like such a selfish jerk and still somehow make her feel like the childish idiot in the scenario. It was like he had a super power. And to make matters worse, her lips—well, her entire body, really—were still tingling from his kiss.

  “Call me whatever you want, baby. But you kissed me back out there.”

  She wanted to slap that stupid handsome smirk right off his stupid handsome face. “Whatever. In the future, make out with the Tailgate Twins and keep your lips off of mine. And man up and talk to me if you want to change the show instead of having your manager plead your case.” With that, she stormed back to her room on the bus.

  As she left, she heard Trace yelling for Pauly. She felt slightly bad about getting the man yelled at, but she was too shaken up to care much at that particular moment. She paced back and forth, rubbing her temples in an attempt to rub the memory of that kiss out of her head.

  “Hey,” Lulu said softly as she peeked her head in the room. “You all right?”

  Kylie stopped pacing and met her friend’s concerned stare. “No. No I’m not all right. What the hell was he thinking? Why did he do that to me?”

  The other girl looked like she was fighting off a smile as she shrugged. “I think he was throwing his hat in the ring.”

  “What?” Kylie was starting to wonder if the whole world was going crazy. She had the distinct feeling she was missing something.

  “Never mind.” Lulu waved her hand. “Something Mike said. Anyways, Kylie, have you considered that maybe you and Trace need to have a real conversation? About why you agreed to surprise him on stage and why you’re so upset about that kiss. I mean, I could probably lay one on you right now and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.”

  Kylie shot her friend a wary grin at the mental image. “Please don’t.”

  “Watch yourself. I’m an awesome kisser. But that’s not the point.”

  “Do you have a point, Lu?” Kylie sighed and rushed on before her friend could answer. “Because I feel like there’s some private joke going around and it’s going to be on me. And honestly? I’m doing the best I can here. This isn’t easy for me. But professionally, this tour was the right choice.”

  “Right.” Lulu nodded. “Professionally. That’s the only reason you agreed to this, right? Because you thought it was the best choice for your career?”

  She frowned at her friend. “Why else would I put myself through this? Do I look like a masochist to you?”

  Her friend put a hand up. “Hey, I don’t need to know what kind of kinky stuff you’re into. But I do know that I have my own opinions about why you agreed to this tour specifically. Want to hear them?”

  “No,” Kylie pouted, plopping down on her bed.

  “Well, too bad,” Lulu said as she sat down beside her. “So I have a few theories. The best one I have is that you still have feelings for him, and maybe you really do think this is the best professional decision and you don’t want to disappoint your fans. But then there’s the issue of rocker boy.”

  Kylie side-eyed Lulu. Her friend rolled her eyes and tossed her hands up.

  “Come on. You wouldn’t have invited all that tatted-up hotness if you weren’t afraid of your feelings for Country Ken. But after what I just saw during that show and after, I’m pretty sure there aren’t enough tattooed guitar players in the world to stop this runaway train.” Her friend gave her a sympathetic look and then hit her with the naked truth. “You and Corbin have shit to work out, Ky. And the only way you’re going to make it through this tour is if the two of you actually work it out.”

  “How?” Kylie whispered, afraid of hearing what else her friend might have to say. Pretty much everything so far had been dead-on.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe just tell each other how you feel and get it out there. Who knows? Maybe by the end of this tour you’ll ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after.”

  Kylie pulled her knees to her chest. “Or maybe we’ll destroy each other and everything we’ve worked so hard for in the process.”

  And there was one thing she couldn’t even bring herself to tell her best friend.

  She couldn’t tell Trace exactly how she felt.

  She’d avoided dealing with it for so long, it was all she knew how to do. She couldn’t tell him exactly how she felt, because wasn’t sure she exactly knew.

  And even more terrifying than not knowing, was the idea that she knew exactly how she felt. But she was pretty sure he didn’t feel the same.

  “YOU KISSED her? Like on the mouth? Full-on kissed Kylie Ryans?”

  Trace held the phone away from his ear. Good news traveled fast apparently. “Yes, Rae. I did. And she was pissed.”

  His little sister laughed. “That’s a good thing, Trace. It means she felt something at least. But, um, next time, maybe do it in private in and not in front of thousands of screaming fans. You know, take her to dinner, walk her to her door. That sort of thing.”
<
br />   “Like I’m a normal guy instead of a self-assured jackass?”

  “Precisely. By the way, I’m watching it on YouTube right now. And it is kind of hot. Or it would be if you weren’t my brother.”

  He practically growled at his sister. “Rae, what have I told you about looking me up online? Shouldn’t you be studying or something?”

  Rae was a freshman at the University of Georgia. She’d enrolled under his mom’s maiden name—at his request—so that people wouldn’t give her hell about him and his rehab and all that. He didn’t make any appearances on campus but he was pretty sure her roommates knew who he was because there was a lot of squealing in the background every time he called.

  “Or something,” she said, sounding distracted. “Anyways, stop stressing about it. I saw how she looked at you at the benefit. And I’ve texted her a few times. She hasn’t responded, but I’m pretty sure that’s because she knows I know you two are going to get married and have me lots of adorable nieces and nephews.”

  “Rae—”

  “I’m just sayin’. But back to, um, studying, I go. Later, big brother. Good luck with my future sister-in-law.” With that, she hung up.

  Trace was pretty certain she wasn’t studying. If her grades were low this semester, he was going to take her car away. He was paying for that and her tuition after all.

  He sat on his bed and rubbed his neck. Rae had a point. He and Kylie had a history. He shouldn’t have just sprung that kiss on her in public like that. Especially when he’d promised not to cross lines if she came on this tour with him.

  He’d made it all of two days.

  What he couldn’t figure out was why good ol’ Steve-O wasn’t busting his door down to kick his ass. He almost snorted out loud. The kid could try anyways.

  If the situation were reversed and Blythe had kissed his girl—in front of people or otherwise—there would be some serious ass-kicking happening. But he hadn’t heard a peep. The only person who’d said anything at all about it had been Kylie. And he was pretty sure she was more shocked than actually pissed.

  Lying back on his bed, he smiled at the memory of her sweet mouth moving against his. Soft, and then more firmly. Urgent, like she knew it couldn’t last.

  His dick jerked to attention in response to the thoughts about her mouth. Damn she’d looked good up on that tailgate. The view he’d had of her from below hadn’t been half bad either.

  She was lucky he’d stopped at a kiss and hadn’t carried her off like a crazed maniac to have his way with her. The things she did to him with just a look would break a lesser man. As much as he ached to do something about the tension between them, he had no idea what course of action to take.

  In addition to the tattooed complication, there was one other thing stopping him from demanding the bus pull over at the next jewelry store so he could buy the girl a ring and beg her to change her last name to his.

  He’d called his sponsor. The urge to drink had passed. But there was no denying that seeing her and being a part of her universe was a trigger.

  It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t her fault, he knew that too. But he knew that if he tried to explain that being around her was tempting him to drink, she wouldn’t see it that way. And she’d probably call the whole damn tour off.

  So he’d keep it to himself.

  For now.

  “MORNING,” HE said through a mouthful of cereal as Kylie walked out of her room. “I made you some coffee. Black with two sugars, right?”

  “Morning. And, um, yeah. Thanks.”

  He extended the black mug as a peace offering. “So we should talk.”

  “Trace—” She regarded him intently.

  He used her momentary pause to appreciate how truly beautiful she was. No makeup. Long blond hair falling softly past her shoulders. Bright, clear blue eyes taking him in as well. Her plain blue T-shirt made her eyes look even brighter.

  This was his girl. His Kylie Lou who haunted his house in Georgia. The one who had mud fights and made love in barns and showers. The one no one else got to see but him.

  He put his hand up. “Before you say anything, I wanted to apologize. For last night. You were right. Kissing you in front of everyone like that was inappropriate.”

  She cleared her throat and reality hit him like a sledgehammer. Well, him and one other guy maybe. God, he hoped it had just been one other guy. He didn’t have the balls to check online to see who else she’d dated while he had been away.

  Her mouth opened slightly, but he rushed on before she could tell him it was okay, or to go to hell, or whatever she intended to say.

  “And I broke my promise not to cross any lines and that was a dick move. I hope you can forgive me.”

  She sipped her coffee. He held his breath.

  “Kylie? You forgive me?”

  She took a deep breath and pursed her lips. “I don’t know yet. I’m still waiting for you to apologize.”

  Trace scoffed. “I just did.”

  “No,” she said slowly. “You just admitted that you needed to apologize. And rehashed some of the things you did wrong. Now you should actually apologize. And then I’ll decide if I forgive you.”

  He couldn’t believe his ears. What the hell was her problem? He smacked his head, intentionally over exaggerating the gesture. “How did I forget? You’re impossible.”

  “And you’re arrogant and hard-headed. Now that we’ve covered that, feel free to apologize.”

  “I did!” Jesus, she made him crazy.

  “Well if that was your apology, then I don’t accept.” He watched as she slammed her coffee cup down on the counter. “I swear, I see things so clearly now. Never once have you ever actually said you were sorry and meant it.”

  “That’s not true,” he said, lowering his voice.

  “When? When have you actually said the words and genuinely been sorry for what you’d done? Name one single time.” She folded her arms over the soft cotton T-shirt straining against her chest and glared at him.

  The moment his eyes met hers, he knew they were living a shared memory. The day he’d walked away from her, he’d kissed her on the head and told her was sorry. Sorry for hurting her, sorry for putting her through everything he had, and sorry for having to be the one to end it.

  He knew she remembered because her narrowed eyes suddenly widened and filled with tears. He slid out of the booth and stood.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, putting her hands up between them. “Forget it. I-I forgive you. Just don’t touch me. And no more kissing me. Or flirting with me, or whatever. Respect me like you would any other artist or I’m done with this tour. I mean it, Trace.”

  He nodded once to let her know he would. Or that he would try his best.

  “Kylie—” he called out, but she disappeared into her room before he could stop her.

  He dropped back into the booth and placed his head in his hands. Why couldn’t he have just said he was sorry?

  Oh yeah. Because he wasn’t. He wasn’t one bit sorry for kissing her, for wanting her, or for wanting the opportunity to love her again more than he wanted anything. But yet again, instead of being honest and putting his heart on the line, he’d been an idiot and pissed her off.

  She was right. He was the same old Trace.

  He was beginning to wonder if he was capable of doing anything other than hurting her.

  “SHE WROTE a what?!” Kylie tried to distance herself from where she’d been chatting with Hannah, Steven, and Lulu as she spoke to her publicist on the phone. She plugged an ear so she could hear over Trace’s soundcheck in the arena in Connecticut they were performing at that night. “And they’re going to publish it? Why?”

  “Money, Kylie. We’ve been through this. People don’t care if she’s full of shit. They care if the book will sell.” Her publicist reassured her half a dozen times that she would do her best to take care of the situation she was calling about before they hung up.

  Jane Bradford was a tough lady who had app
roached Kylie immediately after her tour with Mia Montgomery and Lily Taite had ended. Seeing how the media was portraying Kylie as the cause of Trace’s rehab stay and then turning her relationship—or whatever it was—with Steven into something that made everyone hate her, Jane had contacted her with a plan. A plan to turn Kylie into Nashville’s Sweetheart—even though she wasn’t entirely sure that’s what she wanted to be. But it worked. And she had Jane to thank for a lot of her success.

  Kylie had let Cora—the publicist she’d shared with Trace—go because it was a conflict of interest for Cora to try and spin his rehab stay positively for both of them.

  She planned to find an agent as soon as possible so they wouldn’t be sharing one of those anymore either. It was bad enough they shared a bus.

  And now, some dude named Josh from Rolling Stone magazine was tagging along on her every move. While she freaked the hell out about what her publicist had just said and the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about Trace Corbin’s mouth on hers. And her phone had been ringing constantly all day.

  “Sorry, I know I’m being rude. It’s just a weird day,” she told Josh in hopes that he wouldn’t write that she was a self-absorbed bitch who spent every waking second on her phone. They still hadn’t made it through the interview they’d started that morning. “I know you probably have a ton of questions left. I have thirty minutes until I go on if you want to squeeze the rest of them in.”

  “No worries.” Josh smiled and she wondered if it was genuine or if he was compiling a list of reasons to slam her. This business was tough, and she’d learned the hard way not to trust anyone.

  “So how has touring with your current boyfriend and your ex affected your performance?”

  Kylie took a deep breath. “Um, that’s a difficult question to answer.”

  “Give it a shot,” Josh prompted.

  She forced a smile. “Oh-kay. Well, for starters, I don’t actually have a boyfriend exactly. Despite what everyone seems to think, technically I’m single.”