by Leah Braemel
He blew out a breath. He could do this.
“Why don’t we sit at the bar while we wait for Cam and the others?” Paige suggested.
Yeah, somewhere he could plant his ass before he fell on it. Placing a hand on Paige’s back, he steered her to two empty seats at the massive bar that ran the entire side of the Chute.
The bartender with a nametag of Steve placed two coasters in front of them. He leaned an elbow on the counter and openly ogled Paige. “I’ll bet he has to fight someone every night to keep a hot number like you by his side.”
A growl rumbled in Jake’s throat until Paige rested her elbow on the counter to mimic the bartender, a smile twitching her lips. “I did that to him when he got fresh. So you should be careful you don’t find yourself in the same state.” She sat back on her stool, the smile nowhere in sight. “Two Shiner Bocks, and cut the smarm.”
The smug look replaced with a frown, the bartender slapped two bottles in front of them, and snapped, “Eight bucks. Cash only.”
Once he’d retreated with his payment, Jake lifted his beer and sipped it, careful to avoid the edge of his lip.
He waited until Steve had disappeared down the far end of the bar before letting the uninjured side of his mouth quirk into a smile. “If you did this to me, you’ve got one helluva right hook.”
“I’ve got a damned good left hook. You should ask the last guy I punched out.”
He frowned. “Why’d you have to punch him? What did he do?”
“The usual.”
“What?”
She sighed. “He thought that because I agreed to go to dinner with him it meant I’d put out. I disagreed.”
Fuck. He was torn between belated fear for Paige and admiration. He lifted his beer bottle to hide his grin. “I take it he didn’t ask for a second date?”
She snorted. “Nope. Never heard from him again.”
Good.
“You know you’re doing it again.”
He stared at her, confused. “What?”
“That.” She gestured to his leg, which had started bouncing again. She cupped his cheek in her palm. “You’re going to do great, Jake. They are positively going to love you.”
The stage hands, roadies, whatever they were, appeared on stage with Drew’s drums. A minute later Cam strolled on, laughing with Hunter, as they did their sound checks.
He stiffened when Ben strolled in from the patio, Allie to his right, and Gabe to his left. Shit. As if he wasn’t nervous enough.
Paige repeated. “They’re going to love you.”
From her mouth to God’s ears. Jake blew out a breath. He grabbed the guitar case he’d set at his feet. “Show time.”
Paige leaned over and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Break a leg, JT.”
The jitters took hold of him full force as he tested his mike, his knees knocking, palms sweating. His stomach did backflips when an older gentleman Cam had introduced to him as the emcee stepped to the middle of the stage and called for the crowd to quiet down. Especially as all eyes turned their way. When he’d researched the place, their website had said it held eight hundred people, but he figured some of them would be outside in the beer garden or taking advantage of the breeze around the picnic tables instead of packing themselves elbow-to-elbow inside the main hall. From the eyes staring back at him, they’d reached full capacity. Then he found Paige, perched on a table, lifting her above the rest of the crowd. God, she was beautiful.
She pressed two fingers to her lips and kissed them, then blew it at him. Just like that, the jitters faded.
“Welcome to the Bucking Chute, folks. I’m Phil and I run this here joint.” Cheers greeted Phil’s welcome, shaking the stage. “I gotta tell you, you’re in for a real treat tonight. I heard these guys playing over in a little barbeque joint in Joshua Falls when I was stopping off to visit my daughter, and knew I had to get ’em to play for all you fine folks. So put your hands together and welcome The Dirt Road Graduates.”
As they normally did, Hunter played the introductory riff on his bass, Jake joining in with his guitar. Once the applause lessened, Cam leaned into the mic.
“Thank you very much folks. We sure are glad to be here tonight. I’d like to introduce you to the band, I’m Cam Adair, the drummer’s Drew Foley, the guy on bass over there is Hunter Landry and our lead singer sitting on my left here tonight is my friend and soon to be yours, Jake Grady. Take it away, Jake.”
The crowd settled down halfway through their first song, and gave them a good round of applause. As the night wore on and more beer was consumed, the noise ramped up. The place had an energy to it that got the whole band in the swing. The floors shook with the music and the stomping as people kept time with the beat.
He nodded to Cam, and strummed the opening bars of the song he’d written the week before, the one inspired by Paige.
As he and Cam had rehearsed, Cam joined in on the chorus, harmonizing his higher pitches to Jake’s lower tones.
The song held its own over the clatter of talk and beer bottles clinking, boots scuffing across the wooden floor. As he sang the third stanza about how he’d gone to her, sought her out, the chatter grew quieter. At the end of the fifth verse, how she’d taken his hand and given him solace, the entire room had stilled, every single face all turned his way. Entranced.
Adrenaline surged through him or maybe it was some other endorphin, but it was a high he never wanted to lose.
* * *
“I haven’t heard that song before. Is that one of his?”
As the crowd around them erupted in applause, Paige glanced around to find Jake’s agent Ruben beside her. “Yes. I’ve not heard the band play it before but I recognize some of the lines.”
“It’s a pity we didn’t have the CDs cut for them to sell tonight, but I know they’ll be looking for him in the future.”
“That’s great. He’ll be thrilled.”
“He should be.” He frowned, and swirled the ice cubes in his glass. “Are you watching them? The crowd I mean?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been watching Jake.”
He gestured to the college girls crowding the stage. “Exactly. So are they. These girls aren’t watching Cam or the others when your boyfriend’s on stage. Girls like them are going to be lining up in front of the stage, and at the stage door, to touch him. More if they can get it from him.” His gaze lasered in on her. “Are you going to be able to handle it without pitching a fit?”
“Yes.” As long as Jake follows the “you can look but you can’t touch” rule. Though she wouldn’t rule out borrowing a page out of Faith Hill’s notebook and telling off anyone who got too handsy.
His lips thinned. “That boy belongs center stage. He’s got talent a lot of these singers only dream of having. He’s going far. As long as no one holds him back.”
In other words, her. Why the hell would he think she was the one who would hold Jake back? The only thing that would make him break off the tour would be if something went massively wrong on the ranch.
Jake held the last note, letting the reverberation that echoed off the raftered ceiling vibrate through him even after he’d stopped singing.
The emcee bounded on stage and shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a big hand for Jake Grady and the Dirt Road Graduates.”
Jake took off his hat and waved it at the crowd, then beelined for where Paige had parked herself. “Hey, you.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist and dipped his head to kiss her.
God, his eyes were so beautiful, so filled with life, his concerns and worries about his family disappeared. She memorized all the details, from the tiny indent in his chin, to the long lashes. The lighter hues of red the sun highlighted in his hair. The strength of his arms as he held her, the way his shirt sleeves tightened as biceps bulged.
And his smile. Lord have mercy, she loved his smile.
Ruben was right. Jake belonged on center-stage. He came alive with the exhilaration soaked up from the crowd. If moths were drawn to a flame, Jake was the sun, and he’d draw women to him wherever he went.
“Paige?” He straightened, but kept a hand around her waist. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I’m just so proud of you. You lit up the stage. You’re going to slay the crowds out there on the road, Jake. You’re going to be a hit before you know it. I’ll be able to say I knew Jake Grady back when—”
“Excuse me, Jake? Can I have your autograph?” One of the women Ruben had been talking to interrupted them.
“Yeah, sure.” Jake looked surprised, but he signed the paper she shoved at him. Then she wanted a photograph with him. Paige stepped back in order to avoid two other women who showed up, then a fourth, and a fifth.
Paige snarled when one of the women grabbed his ass, making Jake jump. Despite his raised color, he laughed and smoothly slid the woman’s hand up his back. “You gotta be careful, ladies. My girlfriend’s a mite jealous. I wouldn’t want to have one of you hurt because she decided to stake her claim on me.”
Was Ruben right? Was this an insight into their future? Her being shuffled to the side while he dealt with fans? One of the women was downright beautiful—if he’d been away from home for a few months, even a few days, would he decide to take advantage of their presence because she wasn’t nearby?
His smile tilted, slid off his face as Ruben arrived, a younger woman in tow. “Jake, this is Lacie Kane—she’s an entertainment reporter with the Dallas Tribune.”
The whole interview was awkward, Lacie asking questions mainly to Jake, as if the others didn’t exist. Drew scowled as she pulled out her camera and took a dozen shots of Jake and only a couple of the other guys grouped together.
Ruben reappeared at Jake’s shoulder, a heavily tattooed man who looked younger than Paige beside him, his long hair pulled into a ponytail. “This is Roy Knapp, your tour manager. He’s got the details of where you’ll be for the next couple of months.”
Knapp handed each of them a sheet of paper. “Here’s your schedule. You’ll notice there are some off days—if you’re smart, you’ll find other venues to fill the time, make some extra money.
“Going on tour isn’t fun and games. Some musicians love it, but it’s damned hard work. You’ll be singing in one city one night, and then have to pack up and drive to another city and start all over again there.”
Jake turned the paper so Paige could read it too. Thirty-one venues. All in two and a half months. The occasional Monday or Tuesday off, but pretty much every other day booked.
“Now listen,” Roy continued, “we’ll be paying your expenses up front—your crew, your CDs—but at the end of each gig, every single cent comes out of your cut—most of the time you’ve got a guaranteed rate, but some of them are a fifty/fifty door split. So if you book yourselves each a room at the hotels we recommend, you’ll be paying for them in the long run. Not us. Believe me, it won’t take long to run through your earnings if you’re not careful.”
“What about merchandise? T-shirts and hats. Who will be in charge of that?” Paige asked.
“That’s up to the band. Most bands have a groupie or roadie to sell it while they’re playing or they sell it themselves while they’re on break. My assistant can put you in touch with some good places to order better quality merchandise. Or you can have her order it if you want, but it’s not a free service. We’ll charge for her time.”
Paige frowned. “I wouldn’t mind talking with your assistant for recommendations but I can handle the ordering and designs.” She glanced at Jake. “Can you guys handle selling the stuff?”
“I don’t see why we can’t. Cam and I have been handling it ourselves up until now. If it gets too much when we’re on the road, then we’ll see what changes need to be made.”
Roy nodded. “Good. If you have any questions, email my assistant—her email addy’s on the bottom of the sheet. She’ll look after you.”
Once Roy was out of hearing range, Drew cursed. “I’ll have to quit my job if we’re not playing locally. If we don’t get anything at the end of this, I’m not going to be able to afford rent.”
“You were the one who was all hot about going out on the road,” Cam reminded him. “Bragging about the chicks you’d get to bang, how cool it would be to hang out with the country music stars.”
“But look at this.” Sweat beading his brow, Drew held up the schedule. “He’s got us playing a flea market at some place in Georgia. A fucking flea market. In fucking Georgia,” he repeated. “What chick is going to want to bang me if I tell her that’s where I’m playing?”
“Where the hell did you think we’d be playing? The damned Grand Ol’ Opry right out of the gate?” Jake snapped. “You heard Ruben. They want us to get used to playing in front of all sorts of crowds. They’re not going to throw us right up there on stage with Miranda Lambert and Dierks Bentley. We have to earn our way up there.”
Leaving Cam to handle Drew, Jake led Paige away from the battling band members. “Thanks for offering to help out with the merchandise.”
“It’s no problem. I’m learning a lot from it too.” Part of her wished she could go on the road with him, find out what worked and what didn’t. From what she’d read online, sales of the merchandise was where most bands made their profits.
“I’ll be away a lot more than I’d expected.” Worry filled his eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Cam’s right. It’s your shot at the brass ring. And I’ll be here, waiting.”
He touched her hair. “There are lots of people trying for that same ring. I’d hate to think I screwed up...us. You’re the one good thing that’s happened to me this year, Paige. I don’t want to lose you because I’m never there when you need me.”
Part of her heart melted at his concern. As much as she loved having him to herself, she couldn’t stand in his way. “You’re not going to lose me, but it’s not about me, Jake. What do you want?”
“I want my life to go back to the way it was a year ago. But I guess that’s not going to happen, is it?”
If she had access to a time machine, she’d hand it to him and take that trip back in time beside him. Heck if she had a time machine, she’d go back further than a year. Back to when she was a kid. To when she’d caused her mother to be arrested. That wasn’t going to happen either.
* * *
Jake wondered at the shadow that darkened Paige’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.”
“No, it’s all right.” She shook her head but the shadows didn’t completely disappear.
Before he could ask what was bothering her, the rest of the band pressed in around them again.
“You signed a contract, Drew. You can’t back out now,” Cam added, while Hunter repeated, “This is our shot, man. Don’t wreck it for us by pulling out before we’ve even started.”
“I just...” Drew rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know if I can afford to do this, guys. Not if we could end up in the hole when we’re all done.”
Jake had to look away before Drew broke down completely. Damn it, at least he’d have a home to come back to, a bank account to fund any extra expenses with. Drew had nothing. While Hunter hadn’t said anything, he had the same “what the fuck have we gotten ourselves into” expression. “Look, we’re all tired and on edge. Let’s get some sleep tonight and get together at my place tomorrow. We can work out ways that we can keep our costs low, all right? Whatever happens, we’re in it together, right?”
After agreeing to meet the next day, Drew and Hunter headed home.
Cam pulled Jake aside. “I could have sworn between the four of us if anyone was going to back out, it was going to be you, not
Drew. He seemed so...gung-ho about everything. So positive.”
“Maybe he’s got some form of stage fright. And what do you mean that you figured I’d be the first one to back out? Have I ever gone back on my word?” Shit. Yeah, he had, just not to Cam.
“I figured you weren’t going to sign in the first place.” Cam shrugged. “Face it, you gripe about all the work you get stuck doing on that precious ranch of yours, but you love it.” He shifted so he faced Jake. “So be honest. Can we count on you sticking with us while we’re on the road?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t planning to stick. I was the one who found Ruben, wasn’t I? Doesn’t that prove I’m all in?”
Jake followed Cam’s gaze as it tracked to where Paige stood talking with Gabe and Ben, with Allie perched on one of the high bar stools sipping a glass of wine. Huh, the one woman he expected to be there to cheer him on hadn’t shown. Figured.
“Are you plannin’ on bringing her with you?”
Huh. Oh, Paige. Wow, that would be great, the two of them on the road together. Dream on, buddy. From what little she’d told him about her childhood, she needed stability. Life on the road would be anything but stable. “No. She’s got a job, so she can’t just pick up and go.”
“You going to break up with her?’
Jake had lifted his beer bottle to his mouth but at Cam’s question was glad he hadn’t taken a mouthful or he’d have spit it halfway across the room. “Shit, no, why would I do that?”
“Dude, a chick like that? She’s gonna get tired of being alone late at night. She’ll probably find herself some other guy with regular hours. And dude, did you see the chicks swarming around us here? I’m not about to turn ’em down. I’ll take all the free booty I can get.”
“You are such a manwhore, Adair.”
“Yeah. And proud of it.” Cam blew out a breath. “I gotta get going. I’ll come up to your place tomorrow and we’ll brainstorm ways to travel cheap.”
As Cam threaded through the crowd toward the entrance, Ben approached and plucked off the hat and ruffled Jake’s hair like he was eight. “I still think you’re a goober for not telling me about you being in a band. But you did good, bro.”