Chapter Four
Kenzie had her disinterested-yet-interested, charming-yet-aloof, red-carpet walk down to an art.
Step out of the limo. Take Tucker’s arm. Saunter. Saunter. Strut. Saunter. Smile. Laugh. Hand on hip. Turn so all the photographers have an equal chance at selling to the cover of In Time. Repeat. Ad infinitum.
A million camera shutters seemed to snap around them like a herd of angry click beetles. That’s what she and Leah called the paps, especially when they twisted things so far even the punctuation of their stories spread their lies.
Tucker’s hand rested at the open back of her gown, his fingertips heating her skin.
This was it. Red-carpet official.
She would not fall.
A glance at him and his eyes warmed—mostly they were blue, but just around the pupil they turned the color of Dom Pérignon Brut Champagne. They were eyes a girl could get drunk on. He raised his eyebrows as a nearly imperceptible question.
The kiss. They were supposed to do that. Now.
Smile perma-fixed to her lacquered lips, she raised her palm to his cheek and lifted onto her toes so she could press her mouth to his.
As planned, he opened for her, making a good show of it.
That was all this was. A really good show.
Except, at the touch of her lips to his, her insides twisted around themselves. Like the first time she’d set foot at one of her premiers—she’d been twelve and had known instantly that fame was her drug of choice. Right now, she’d trade all of that for more of this. More Tucker. To taste every inch of him. To feel every part.
Damn, she was a good actress. She’d even convinced herself she had feelings for him.
As expected, the paparazzi went bananas.
“Ms. Bennett, when did you and Mr. McKay—”
“How long have you two been to—”
Tucker pulled away. His breath played against her ear. “See, they have no memory of the nightclub.”
One of the click beetles shouted, “Kenzie, is this because you fell in his—”
She turned to Tucker, gave him a they-never-forget look, and mentally checked that her perma-smile remained in place.
“Tucker, will you still be going to Colorado for the holidays?” someone shouted.
Tucker squeezed Kenzie’s hand. “Absolutely.”
“Will Ms. Bennett be going with you?” another shouted.
“We haven’t decided,” Tucker replied.
If there was one thing Kenzie had learned in all her time in front of the cameras—don’t give firm answers. Vague was the name of the game. Unless you wanted reporters to show up somewhere, but she was pretty sure Tucker didn’t want them to descend on his ranch.
Tucker obviously knew the name of the game, too. He squeezed her hip.
She refused to acknowledge the butterflies that flitted around inside at his touch.
They made it to the entry of the theater, the heels of her Louboutins sinking into the plush carpet. The buzz of the other A-listers hummed throughout the room for the party before the screening.
“I’m gonna grab a beer.” Tucker jerked his chin toward the bar set up in one corner. “Get you anything?”
“Club soda?” She’d already shared with him that she didn’t drink in public. Bad things happened when she wasn’t on her game. Bad things, like…well, what had happened two weeks earlier.
“Done.” The thing about Tucker was he didn’t have dimples in the traditional sense. Instead, he had one little dimple just under his left eye, high on his cheek when he smiled. Girls all over the word adored that little patch of skin. Kenzie was no different. And when he sang, and it popped? Sweet angel of Audrey Hepburn, she’d go on a Roman Holiday with him anytime.
Which was why he needed to scoot along and grab her some carbonated water.
He didn’t just remove his palm from the skin of her back, no, he slid it along the line of her dress, leaving a path of goosebumps.
Then he disappeared into the swirling mass of California’s elite.
“Mackenzie.”
Everything paused. She knew that voice. It was the voice of producer Eileen “the snake” Hendrix. Kenzie and Leah had been waiting to hear from Eileen for weeks about the lead role in Wander Love. Eileen had the power to squelch Kenzie’s career—or make it soar again.
Kenzie angled herself toward the woman in charge of her destiny. “Eileen. So lovely you’re here.”
“A word?” Eileen asked.
Kenzie followed Eileen to the side of the room opposite from Tucker. The soundproofing carpet along the wall brushed her arm.
“What can I do for you?” Why haven’t you returned my calls? Kenzie asked silently, hopeful the quirk of her eyebrow would relay the unspoken question.
“You and Tucker are an item now?” Eileen asked, quietly enough so only Kenzie could hear, but not quite a whisper.
Kenzie nodded, her gaze flicking to the man in question. “Something like that.”
“I hate to put you on the spot,” Eileen said in a way that implied she had no problem doing it. “The thing is”—deep sigh—“we’ve been trying to convince him to do the title song for Wander Love.”
Eileen took the tiniest sip of her champagne and stared into the crowd. The studio was rumored to be sparing no expense on the flick. In La La Land, that meant big things for an actress in the starring role.
“Tucker’s retired. I’m certain you’ve heard.” With the explosive breakup of his band, everyone capable of breathing in the continental United States had heard about it.
Eileen nodded in fake agreement. “That’s the thing though. I’m curious how serious he is about retirement right now.”
“Pretty serious, I think.” Given the whole charade they were tied up in as part of… What was it his manager had called it? An extraction plan.
“I don’t suppose you might talk to him about his refusal. Convince him to postpone his retirement until after he pens something for Wander Love?” Eileen had a way of saying things that somehow managed to be a question and a command at the same time.
Kenzie refused to squirm. “I’m not sure I have any power over Tucker’s decisions.”
“Come on, dear. I think when one is inspired enough, they can move mountains.” Eileen’s innuendo was clearer than a Colorado sky, but Kenzie didn’t play that game. Never, she’d never sold herself for a part. No way would she start now. Still though, she could convince Tucker without bedroom tricks, if that was the leverage it would take to get her career back on track.
Dammit.
“To confirm,” she asked. “If Tucker does the song, then the part is mine? With fees to match the last project I did with your studio?”
Eileen scoffed at the direct hit. She eyed Kenzie. “Yes.”
Kenzie glanced around, her gaze landing on Tucker talking to some guy wearing ripped jeans at a red-carpet event. Now that took some balls. “How long do I have to convince him?”
“Until the new year?” Eileen sipped again. “We really need to shore up our lead actress, you know?”
Oh, yes. Kenzie knew, all right.
“He’ll do it,” she heard herself say.
Only she had no idea how she’d convince him.
“I’m so pleased to hear that.” Eileen practically flicked a forked tongue into the air between them, searching for weakness.
“Leah and I will need some reassurance that once he does, the part is mine.” Always Watch Out for Number One.
“Consider it done. Have Leah contact my office on Monday.” Eileen slithered away, back into the abyss.
Kenzie escaped to the nearest bathroom—the private kind often used for hookups or, in her case, a private conversation. Cell to her ear, she practiced deep breathing until Leah picked up.
“Do you need a rescue?” Leah asked as a hello.
“No.” Kenzie dropped to the cushy chair by the stack of rolled hand towels. “I need to figure out how to convince Tucker to do a song for Eil
een’s movie.”
She relayed the conversation.
Leah paused a moment. “So, you’re not out. This is good. Talk to Tucker. See what he says.”
“He’s already told her he won’t do it.”
“How do we get that no to turn into a yes?” Leah asked.
Kenzie blew a breath that made her bangs fly straight up. “I have no idea.”
“Maybe start by just asking him?” Logic wasn’t so stupid in this case.
“I can do that.” Kenzie stood, adjusted her dress. She could ask. See what he said. Maybe he would do it.
“Don’t be too direct though. Try to make it seem like it’s his idea. Guys love that.”
Kenzie rolled her eyes. “I’ll work on it.”
She tucked her cell back into her black Prada clutch with the silver clasp. It shouldn’t be too hard to convince a man set on retirement to do one last song.
One last song, for her.
“Retirement, huh?” Tucker’s buddy Brek asked.
Brek managed Dimefront, the current “it” band. Especially since Tucker’s band had broken up at his announcement of retirement.
Brek didn’t get wrapped up in the bullshit of the industry. That was why he and Tucker could be friends. No pretention between them, just beer and solid love of music.
“Yup. Done with all this.” Tucker gestured to the crowd with the brown bottle of craft beer in his hand, Kenzie’s seltzer in the other. He’d prefer a draft beer in a mug in the bar back at home. At events like this? Beggars couldn’t be choosers. “It’s been time for a while.”
His band had gone their separate ways. Tucker wasn’t making music anymore. Not that the industry believed it. Labels continually tossed offers his way. He wished he could take them—but taking them involved actually being able to create something.
Reality and his ranch looked better and better.
Jessica was right, though, the last thing he wanted was to have the final memory of his time in the limelight be that photo of Kenzie sprawled over his lap at a night club. So, he’d water down the image. Make a few more appearances. Give the rags something to talk about.
Then he’d go home.
Tucker scoured the room for Kenzie. She’d disappeared. “You should come see the ranch.”
“I’d like that.” Brek took a pull of his own beer.
“Tucker?” Kenzie sidled up next to him. Where the hell had she materialized from? “Sorry. Had to make a call.”
His gaze hooked on her and his lungs ached. He could still taste her on his lips. Her toes barely peeked out from under the long ball gown she wore. Hell, even her dress kissed the ground she walked on.
“Everything okay?” Tucker handed her drink to her.
Her red curls bobbed as she nodded. “Yup.”
“This is my buddy Brek. Brek, Kenzie.”
“Hi.” Kenzie took the drink, she nodded toward his friend and her expression warmed. “It’s nice to meet Tucker’s friends.”
Brek’s forehead crinkled as she shook his hand. “The other half of Mactuck. In the flesh,” he said.
Tucker groaned on the inside. Mostly. Some slipped out, he couldn’t help it.
“Headed home for Christmas?” Tucker asked, distracting Brek from any further discussion of their supercouple nickname.
Brek’s eyes lit up in response, like he knew exactly what Tucker was doing. “I’m headed back to Denver. Aspen’s pregnant.”
Aspen… Tucker ran through his mental Rolodex. Brek’s sister.
“Uncle Brek, yeah?” Tucker was an uncle three times over. He looked forward to playing up that role, now that he wasn’t tied to a tour schedule.
“Has a nice ring.” Brek shot a look toward Kenzie. “Big plans for the holidays?”
“A quiet holiday for me.” Kenzie was the queen of being vague when she needed to be. Tucker had noted her ability to say something and nothing at the same time. “We do Vail every year. My mother has a big bash. Maybe I’ll crash Tucker’s family party and we can go skiing.” She winked at him.
Dammit, he liked it when she flirted with him. His internal alarm bells started dinging.
Kenzie plus Colorado plus his family was a horrible idea. His mother would go crazier with decorations than normal. They’d be the green and red kind where nothing matched, but everything somehow worked. Not like Hollywood decorations, where everything was silver and gold and positioned for maximum effect.
“I like her, Tuck.” Brek raised his beer bottle in salute. “Let’s touch base after the new year. Plan something. I should go check on the boys, make sure they’re not fucking shit up.”
Tucker nodded. “Good call.”
He and Kenzie stood there, not saying anything. She shifted. He shifted. She tucked her wallet thing under her arm. He stared at the carpet.
“So, hey. We’re here.” Kenzie seemed to study the bubbles in her drink like they were a movie reel spinning an especially good story.
He tilted her chin up, his fingertip resting in the soft skin under her jaw. “Hey.”
The voices in the room seemed to drift aside. They shared the moment, and it was all that mattered.
“I wasn’t serious about the skiing thing. I wouldn’t barge into a family Christmas.” She lifted her drink’s straw to her lips. Closed them around the tip. Took a long drink.
Sonofabitch, he’d never been jealous of a straw before.
“So, Eileen was mentioning that they’d like you to do the music for one of her movies. Have you talked to her about it?” Kenzie broke the spell.
He dropped his hand. “What?”
“Eileen, you know…” Kenzie waved to the producer who’d been hounding him for months about a movie that needed a theme song.
Yeah, he knew Eileen. Relentless Eileen.
“I already told her no.” And why did Kenzie care, anyway?
She fidgeted with her straw. “You know this town. Saying no to a project just means they haven’t offered you enough money.”
Not in his case. Saying no was because he couldn’t deliver, and even if he could, he wouldn’t do a project for Eileen. Just the thought made him shiver. She sucked the life out of anyone in the room. “Retirement usually means a person stops working in the field.”
“Except in Hollywood. You should add that to the end of your statement.” She clearly was trying to make things light.
“In my case, retirement means I’ve got two hundred head of cattle ready for my attention.”
Her expression turned confused. “I don’t get it. Is that a joke?”
He scratched behind his ear. “Ah, no.”
“Oh my God, you’re serious.” She gripped his shoulder with her free hand. “I know you said you’re going home. You’re really giving up on music to raise…beef?”
A slow smile spread through him. That was exactly what he was doing. “Yeah.”
“Holy crap.” She studied him as if he was a piece of beef.
He found attentive Kenzie entirely too attractive. The way he was feeling toward her was not light.
And that was unacceptable.
5
Chapter Five
Five Days Before Christmas
Tucker had survived the rest of the night with Kenzie. They’d played their respective parts like band members who could predict each other without even a word.
That was two days ago. Today they were going to have lunch at The Ivy. Jessica and Leah had picked the location to be sure Tucker and Kenzie were seen by the right photographers.
He sat up, giving up on sleep. The blanket he’d tossed across his lap last night bunched at his waist. He’d shipped his bed back to Colorado weeks ago. As a certified rocker, sleeping on the couch shouldn’t have been playing such havoc on his back. How many nights had he passed out on a random sofa in a random penthouse?
His spine cracked and twinged in response.
He wanted his damn bed back.
What he really needed was to be at his ranch, not surrou
nded by the corrugated cardboard boxes he’d started packing weeks ago. He’d kept the bare minimum in his high-rise Los Angeles apartment. Usually, he put up at least a tree for Christmas. Not this year.
A slow inventory of the few items left in his studio apartment: his guitar, sofa, kitchen shit. He wouldn’t miss the floor-to-ceiling windows—not when his ranch had the same thing, with a view he preferred. Wouldn’t miss access to every possible thing a guy could want within walking distance—not when his ranch had everything he needed. And he sure as hell wouldn’t miss sharing so much space with so many other people—not when he’d be living in a town with a population of 693. Soon to be 694.
His phone buzzed from the coffee table. He grabbed it, checked it, clicked the green call button, and held it to his ear.
“Dad.” He sat to attention. His father never called. That duty was delegated to his mother.
“I just fixed your mother a kale smoothie.” His father’s ranch-hardened voice sounded like he’d gulped a mouthful of gravel. “It’s green.”
Tucker scrubbed a hand over his face. “Do I want to know why you’re making Mom smoothies?”
“Because she and Betsy started a running club. It’s icy at the buttcrack of dawn.” A pause. “Both of ’em fell on the ice. Twisted the shit out of her ankle.”
Tucker’s stomach began the slow sinking he knew wouldn’t end well. His mother didn’t run. She didn’t drink healthy stuff. And she didn’t have his father call when she could do it herself. “Why the hell is she running and drinking kale?”
“Saw you on the television. Then the reporters started calling.” There it was. Damn. She’d been chatting with the reporters. “She got wind you’re bringing home that actress.”
That actress. He couldn’t help the film running through his thoughts. The way Kenzie had looked in that dress. The way her mouth had fit so perfectly against his. The way she’d tasted like peach lip gloss. “I’m not—”
“Son.” His dad paused. Tucker could almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose. Not willing to tell his wife no. But also not buying into the drippings that came along with Tucker’s fame.
Rock Hard Cowboy: A sizzling Christmas romantic comedy. (Mile High Matched Book 0) Page 3
