Austin grinned up at Clint, who towered over him. “Really?”
“Sure.” He took off his black cowboy hat and placed it on the boy’s head. “Truth be told, I hate restaurant food, and I’m not much of a cook, so a home-cooked meal is a real treat for me.”
“Don’t you have, like, your own personal chef?” Austin asked, wide-eyed.
“I suppose I could,” Clint said, accepting a seat on the taupe two-seater Natasha gestured to. “But I kind of like being alone when I’m at home. I guess you could say I value my privacy.”
“Yeah,” Austin said, sitting on a chair next to Clint. “It must be rough having to be on all the time, huh? I mean, having to put on a front for all those people, never bein’ able to say what’s really on your mind in case you piss somebody off.”
“Language,” Natasha said, frowning at her son.
Clint covered his mouth to hide his smile. He appreciated Austin’s candor. Something told him they would get along just fine. “I always try to be honest with people. Sometimes my opinions aren’t all that popular and my manager reams me out for crossing the line, but at the end of the day, I have to be true to myself. My fans know that, and I think they appreciate that I have the right to my own opinion, even if they don’t agree with me.”
“Excuse me,” Natasha said. “I have to take the pizza out of the oven and put these in water.”
“How’d you get into music?” Austin asked, settling into the deep chair when his mother left the room. “Were you born with that talent, or did you have to work at it?”
“A bit of both,” Clint said. “I realized the first time I picked up a guitar that it stirred something inside of me. When I was a little younger than you, my music teacher told my parents that he’d never heard a voice quite like mine.”
“Your voice wasn’t as raspy and gritty then as it is now, was it?”
Clint appreciated the way Austin described his voice. He thought it fit perfectly. The kid had a good ear for recognizing nuances others might have missed, and that would make him a good student. “No, that didn’t happen until I was about sixteen or seventeen.” He grinned. “I had to go through that awkward phase where my voice cracked and broke before I really came in to my own.”
Austin nodded. “When did you learn to play guitar?”
“I was just about your age. Maybe a year or two younger.” He reached into the inside pocket of his black leather blazer. “In fact, I brought a memento from that time. I thought you might like to have it.”
Austin’s eyes went wide when he saw the folded leather guitar strap. “That’s yours… and you’re gonna give it to me?”
Austin’s reaction reinforced Clint’s decision. Knowing how much the kid would treasure the strap made letting go of it a lot easier than he’d thought it would be.
Natasha returned, standing in the doorway between the living room and galley kitchen, watching the exchange.
“My mama gave this to me shortly after I started playing. She and my old man went to a George Strait concert, and she took this along. She wanted to give it to me for my birthday and thought it would be more special if she got one of my idols to sign it.”
“How’d she get that close to him?” Austin asked, his eyes fixed on the decorated leather strap Clint held.
“They’d won the tickets on some radio show. The prize included a meet and greet with George, so she asked him to sign the strap.” He set it on the wood coffee table between them. “I’ve had it ever since. Worn it during more shows than I can count. I’d like to think it’s brought me some luck. Maybe it can do the same for you.”
“Clint,” Natasha interrupted, “that’s incredibly generous, but Austin couldn’t possibly accept something so important to you.”
“Sure, he could.” Clint raised a finger, looking at Austin. “But there’s a condition.”
“What is it?” Austin whispered.
“You have to promise to take really good care of it for me. Can you do that?”
“Sure.” Austin reached for the strap before looking at his mother. “Can I keep it, Mom? Please?”
Natasha looked torn, her arms crossed over her middle, as she looked back and forth between her son and Clint. “Are you sure you want to do this, Clint?”
“Darlin’, I don’t do anything I’m not sure about.” He gripped the boy’s shoulder. “I want him to have it.”
“Can I ask one more favor?” Austin looked apprehensive as he picked up the worn strap and stroked the soft leather. “Could you sign it too? You said George Strait was your idol. Well, you’re kind of mine. It’d be really cool to have your autograph on here too.”
Well, damn. Clint didn’t think anyone could say anything he hadn’t heard before, but something in Austin’s quiet reverence made him hear that appreciation in a whole new way. It made him grateful all over again that he got to do what he did for a living, to touch people with his music. “I’d love to.” He looked at Natasha. “You wouldn’t happen to have a Sharpie around here, would you?”
“I think there’s one in the pencil case in Austin’s backpack. Let me check.”
***
Natasha took her time retrieving the marker. She needed a minute to collect herself. If she’d been infatuated with Clint Davis before, his gesture sent her catapulting into lovesick. No one outside of their family had ever done something so sweet for her son, and it made her appreciate what an incredible man Clint was.
She’d been taken in by his physical appeal the first time she saw him. At well over six feet, with dark shaggy hair, crystalline blue eyes, softly etched laugh lines, and a killer smile, he was every woman’s fantasy. Except she didn’t waste time fantasizing about men she could never have. At least she hadn’t until she met Clint.
But every time she saw him, she had to rein herself in, to repeat the mantra in her head that they were just friends and could never be more. He was a rambling man, just as her father had been. Never home. Always on the road. Living life on his terms. That was fine for Clint. He was single with no wife or kids waiting at home, but that life had been hard on her when she’d been growing up, and she’d vowed that if she ever married, it would be to a man who was home for dinner every night and took weekends off to spend with his family.
She returned to find Clint and Austin looking at Clint’s cell phone. He was sharing pictures of interesting people he’d met and places he’d visited, taking her son on a pictorial trip that must have exceeded Austin’s wildest fantasies.
Austin looked at her, grinning from ear to ear. “Mom, you gotta see these pictures! Clint knows, like, everybody. He’s even visited the White House and sang for the President. How awesome is that?”
“Pretty awesome,” she admitted, forcing a smile. Moments like these reminded Natasha that she and Clint truly were worlds apart. The attraction she’d sensed simmering between them must have been her imagination playing tricks on her because no way would a man like that, who’d enjoyed experiences most could only dream about, be interested in a single mom struggling to keep food on the table.
Clint looked at her, his smile fading. “Uh, we can look at the rest of these later, buddy.” He pocketed his phone. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“Can you sign this first?” Austin asked, thrusting the guitar strap at him. “Please! I wanna post it on Instagram.”
“Sure,” Clint said, chuckling as he reached for the pen Natasha offered. “I gotta admit I don’t get the whole social media thing. Call me old-school, but I still like to pick up the phone or see someone face-to-face when I can.”
“You can’t deny it’s a great way to connect with your fans,” Natasha said, watching him sign the strap.
“That’s true. Might be the only good thing about it though.” Shaking his head, he said, “Trying to keep up with that is one more distraction I don’t need in my life. When I’m at my ranch, I like to unplug and pretend I’m living in a time before the world went crazy with all this technology.
”
“You have a ranch?” Austin asked, gripping his knees as he leaned forward to check out Clint’s signature. “Horses too?”
Clint chuckled. “Can’t have a ranch without horses. You ride?”
“No.” Looking a little despondent, he said, “We’ve never even had a backyard. We’ve always lived in crummy apartments.” Looking at his mom and obviously feeling a pang of guilt, he said, “I know my mom did the best she could, but—”
“It’s okay,” Natasha said, crossing her arms. “Why don’t you go get washed up for dinner?”
“Can I use your phone to take a picture first?” Austin asked his mom as he gestured toward the strap on the table. “Please?”
“Sure, it’s on the table,” she said, pointing at the small table in the adjoining room. “But hurry before the pizza gets cold. Oh, and give Clint his hat back before we sit down to eat.”
“Why don’t you keep it?” Clint said when Austin started to remove it. “I’ve got a dozen at home just like it.”
“Really?” Austin asked.
“Um, I don’t think…” Natasha said, feeling her stomach tighten when she saw the hopeful look in her son’s eyes. She didn’t want to disappoint Austin, but she didn’t want Clint feeling sorry for them or treating her son like a charity case either. She’d earned his respect, and she didn’t want that to change.
“It’s really not a problem, Tash,” Clint said, looking wary. “But if you don’t want him to have it—”
“No, it’s fine.” She smiled. “Thank you.” She would have to have a little chat with Clint later about spoiling her son. She didn’t want Austin to think he could expect whatever he wanted now that he’d befriended a rich and famous musician.
“Yeah, thanks a lot, Clint,” Austin said, tipping the hat back on his head. “It’s really cool.”
“My pleasure.” Clint watched Austin dash to the table to retrieve his mother’s phone. “Sorry if I overstepped,” he said to Natasha. “Won’t happen again.”
She knew he was generous and she didn’t want him to think she didn’t appreciate it, but if their arrangement was going to work, they had to set some ground rules before Austin got carried away. “We can talk about it later.”
Austin snapped a few pictures before posting them and returning the phone to his mother. “Thanks, I’ll go wash up now. I’m starving.” Turning to Clint, he asked, “Will we still have time for that lesson after dinner?”
“Sure.” Clint hesitated. “Did you get all your homework done?”
Austin laughed. “Yeah, Mom made sure I did as soon as I got home ‘cause she knew I’d be too pumped later.”
“Smart lady.” Clint winked at Natasha. When they were alone, he said, “I hope you don’t mind.” He gestured to the strap. “I guess I should have talked to you about it first.”
“You don’t have to give him anything,” Natasha said gently. “You being here, helping him with the guitar, is more than enough.”
Clint sighed, linking his hands. “I know this might sound crazy to you, but I can’t get over how blessed I’ve been. Sometimes it seems like the scales are tipped the wrong way when I see hardworking people like you struggling to get by while I make so much doing what I do.”
“You’re incredibly talented,” she said, sitting next to him on the small sofa as she touched his shoulder. “You have a gift. Of course you should be properly compensated for that. You shouldn’t feel guilty about it.”
“I don’t feel guilty exactly. I just wish I could use all that money to make a difference somehow. I see kids like Austin, and I want to do something to make their lives better.”
Natasha felt the weight of his words as her spine stiffened. “My son is not a charity case, Clint. We don’t need anything from you. We’re doing just fine on our own.”
Chapter Three
Clint cursed himself for being insensitive and offending Natasha. Closing his hand over hers, he said, “I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant I’d like to—”
Austin rushed back into the room, and his eyes fell to their joined hands. “Uh, I can come back later if y’all wanna be alone.”
Natasha frowned at her son before withdrawing her hand from Clint’s. “Don’t be ridiculous. Go set the table while I slice the pizza.” Turning to Clint, she said, “I don’t know where my manners are. I haven’t even offered you a drink. Would you prefer a beer or soft drink with dinner? Or I could open the wine you brought?”
“I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine, if you’ll join me?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” she said, standing. Austin was beaming at her, looking back and forth between his mother and their guest when Natasha said, “I asked you to set the table. Why are you standing here gawking at us?”
Austin chuckled. “I was just thinking it’d be pretty cool if my mom was dating Clint Davis.”
Pretty cool indeed, kid. Clint bit his lip to keep from smiling as Natasha’s face flamed.
She set her hands on her son’s shoulders and gave him a gentle nudge toward the table. “Quit daydreaming and get to work, mister.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Clint asked, standing as he removed his leather blazer. He walked to the coat rack by the door and hung it before facing Natasha. Austin was out of sight, which may have explained her obvious perusal of his biceps. He was wearing a fitted black T-shirt that revealed a colorful tattoo on each arm. “You’ve seen these before, right?” Clint asked, pulling up his shirt sleeve to reveal one of the more recent tattoos he’d added.
“Um, yeah, I think so,” she said, biting her lip. “It’s, uh, nice.”
He grinned. “What’s wrong? You’re not a fan of body art?”
“Not for me, but it looks good on you.” She blushed. “I mean, I think you have to have a certain look to pull it off.”
“Oh yeah?” He moved in a little closer, lowering his voice. “How would you describe my look?”
Her lips tipped up at the corner as she gave him a quick but thorough once-over. “Since you grew your hair out a bit, I’d have to say your look is a little more… rugged.”
“Rugged, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a good thing?”
She sucked in a breath. “It definitely works for you.”
Was she flirting with him? He sure as hell hoped so. “I’m glad you approve.” He tugged on his collar-length hair. “I was gettin’ tired of the same old, same old. Needed a change.”
“I can understand that. Nothing worse than getting stuck in a rut, is there?”
“No, there isn’t.” He sensed they weren’t talking about hair styles anymore. If she was referring to her life, he’d have been more than happy to help her spice things up. In and out of the bedroom. That thought made him question whether she was seeing anyone. Her son’s comment about dating led him to believe she was too busy for much of a social life, which suited him just fine. He wouldn’t have any competition for her time and attention when she finally realized their attraction was worth pursuing.
“Table’s set,” Austin said, poking his head around the corner. “Let’s eat.”
“I’ll open that wine,” Clint said, following her into the kitchen.
“Thanks.” Pointing at a drawer below the sink, she said, “I think you’ll find a corkscrew in there somewhere. I have to admit I’m not much of a drinker.”
They settled in around the small oak table, and Natasha surprised Clint by asking Austin to say grace before they ate. They’d done the same in his house growing up, but it had been a long time since he’d openly expressed gratitude for a meal. He smiled at Natasha when he raised his head. “That was nice, Austin.”
The boy lowered his head and fixated on his pizza. “Mom says it’s important to give thanks. No matter how little you have, you’re better off than some people.”
Looking around the small but cozy apartment, Clint could see how hard she’d worked to make it a comfortable home for them. The furniture looked fairly new. The walls were painted
a warm neutral color and were free of scuff marks, which indicated she’d painted recently. The curtains and cushions lent a splash of color in burnt orange and dark red.
“My mom made those,” Austin said, following his gaze. “She’s good at sewing. She even gets paid for it sometimes.”
“Is that so?” Clint smiled at Natasha. “Why didn’t I know that?”
She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Some of the women at my mom’s senior center ask me to do alterations for them, that’s all.”
“You cook, sew, go to school, take care of your son, and work full-time?” He sighed. “Lady, you make me feel like a slacker.”
Austin laughed, pointing at his mother. “I told you. I’m not the only one.” He grinned at Clint. “That’s why I call her the Energizer Bunny, ‘cause she never winds down.”
Clint could think of a few ways to help Natasha relax, but none that he could suggest with an impressionable kid watching his every move. “You need to take it easy sometimes, Tash. Don’t you ever take a day off?”
“You called her that earlier… Tash,” Austin said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call her that.”
Clint knew the nickname probably implied a certain intimacy that was making her son question the nature of their relationship, so he tried to play it off. “I think I’ve always called you that, haven’t I?” he asked Natasha.
“Since the first time we met.” She took a bite of her pizza and reached for a napkin to cover her mouth when she giggled. “I’d just started as an admin assistant at Titan. I was so nervous. I’d never had a job like that before, and I didn’t want to make Ryan regret hiring me.”
“I remember,” Clint said, chuckling at the memory as well. “You were manning the front desk—the gatekeeper, so to speak—and you didn’t want to let me in to see Evan. You said I needed an appointment.”
Natasha covered her face with her hand. “I was so embarrassed when I realized who you were. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”
“Why would you? I hadn’t been with Titan all that long. I think I’d just released my debut album, if memory serves.”
Hero Worship (Music City Moguls Book 6) Page 2