Travis spun toward him. "No more interviews. Cancel them."
Jason's eyes widened. "Cancel them? You can't—"
"I'm not dealing with this shit anymore."
"Hey!" Jason caught his arm, and jerked him back to face him. "Listen to me, Travis. I don't know what the hell went down with Mariel and Malcolm, but you can't keep going on without an agent or a lead guitarist, and you're a fucking piece of work in interviews. Your career isn't untouchable, you know. It will crash and burn, and all you'll have left is ashes to pick through. Is that what you want?"
"Fine with me." He tried to turn away, but Jason's grip on his arm tightened.
"Travis—"
"Don't make a fucking scene," Travis muttered under his breath. "Get your hand off me, or I will get it off."
Jason dropped his hand immediately, wariness flickering in his eyes. "Listen, Travis, I'm your tour manager, not your agent. I can't keep trying to pick up the slack from what Malcolm was doing. You have to pull your shit together."
Travis closed his eyes, his hands balled into fists as he took a deep breath. "No more interviews," he said again. If they left him alone, maybe he could get through this week. He wanted to make this week work. This fair was where he'd gotten his break, the one that had gotten him out of this hellhole. He wanted to pay it back, but he couldn't take much more of this shit.
"Impossible. You're the local boy come home. They need to hear from you, and you need to come across as someone they can root for." Jason shoved an index card at him. "Here's your schedule for the rest of the day. Make it happen. Children's concert in ten minutes. Don't be late, don't miss it, and don't be an ass. Got it?"
Travis snatched the card out of Jason's hand. "No more media interviews today. Reschedule them."
Jason studied him for a second, and then sighed. "Fine. But tomorrow you better be back on your game. Got it?"
"I got it." Travis turned away, striding through the crowd, not even caring if his security team kept up. A children's concert. He was the one who'd suggested it originally. He'd wanted to offer something to the kids who were trapped in hell with no way out, like he had once been. If there was one kid in that audience who was enduring the life he'd led, and if he could show that kid that there was a way out, then he had to do it.
That was why he'd come. Not to give back to the community that had fucked him over, but to show any kids trapped here, that they could get out.
He could handle the children's show, but after that... He looked at his schedule for the rest of the day and swore under his breath. Every one of them was an up-close meet and greet with fans, the ones who harassed him with more questions than the reporters. The thought of mingling with so many people made resentment slash through him, and he shoved the card in his pocket. "One step at a time," he muttered to himself. Children's concert first. He could handle that. One song for the kids, right?
But as he headed that way, ducking behind tents so that no one would see him and recognize him, he wasn't sure he could even manage that.
The singer's voice caught Lissa's attention as they passed by the venue for the children's concert. It was deep, rich, and seemed to wrap around her like an invisible caress.
Lissa stopped, turning her head as she listened. She knew there were many musical guests signed up for the fair, but she'd never heard a voice like that. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. He was singing a classic children's song, but his voice was incredible. "Who's that?"
"I don't know. Let's go—" Bridgette tugged on her hand, and then squealed. "There's Maggie! Let's go say hi!" She bolted through the crowd, and Lissa hurried after her, trying not to lose her daughter in the masses. Teen girls were jostling against each other, screaming and gasping, as they fought to get into the children's concert.
Lissa caught up to Bridgette and grabbed her hand. "Come on, babe, it's too crowded. Let's go to the calf-roping—"
"Travis Turner's singing!" A woman screamed, as she shoved past Lissa and Bridgette, nearly knocking them both over. "We need to get in there."
"Travis Turner?" Bridgette's eyes rounded. "He's singing? Let's go hear him. He's amazing!"
Ah…that was why his voice had sounded familiar. She'd heard him on the radio plenty of times, but his voice was much more beautiful in person. She almost wanted to go into the concert to listen, but there was no way she was going to fight the crowds. "We don't have tickets." Lissa tightened her grip on Bridgette, beginning to feel claustrophobic with the frenzied crowds pushing to get in to hear Travis Turner. "Let's go, sweetie. It's too crazy in there—" She stopped suddenly, staring at the massive poster at the entrance to the children's concert. It was a Travis Turner poster...and the picture staring at her was of the man who'd kissed her senseless the night before.
Shock rippled through her, and her chest tightened. Travis Stockton was Travis Turner? She'd never seen him play live, and didn't waste time with gossip magazines, so she'd never paid attention to what he looked like. But there he was, staring at her with the same blue eyes that had mesmerized her last night.
She knew all about him. Everyone had heard about him. He was the number one country music superstar in the country, worth hundreds of millions of dollars, always on tour, always in the limelight...not a man who had any time to spend on a single mom who ran a café in Rogue Valley, Wyoming.
Humiliation burned through her. She had completely believed in him last night. She'd trusted him, and she never trusted anyone...and he was Travis Turner? She'd offered him a job for the week, making tips only. No wonder he'd said he couldn't help her out. Dear God, what a fool she'd been. How had she not seen through that? What if she'd slept with him, and become one of his conquests? As it was, she'd let him suck on her breasts and give her an orgasm. Her first one in almost nine years, and it had been just a game to him? He'd been hiding out at a café, messing with a waitress too stupid to realize who he was.
She felt so idiotic. So unbelievably stupid.
"Mom!" Bridgette tugged at her hand. "Are we going to the concert or not?"
"No." She turned and started shoving her way through the crowd, trying not to listen to his singing, his beautiful, amazing voice that seemed to breathe light and warmth right through her. "Let's go watch calf roping. It's our tradition."
Bridgette grinned at her. "Ice cream first?"
"Ice cream first." It was all Lissa could do to manage a smile for her daughter, when her head was pounding and her chest was so tight she couldn't breathe.
But she did it.
She had one hour with her daughter today, and she wasn't going to let Travis Turner ruin it.
It was the same. The same everywhere. The same fucking crap.
Travis finished his song for the children's concert, but there were no kids there for him to help or inspire. He'd done the show to reach the kids who spent the night hiding in the garage in hopes that their drunken bastard fathers wouldn't find them. Instead, it had been just more screaming fans, waving autographs, shoving against each other as they all tried to get closer.
He managed some sort of farewell, and then got off the stage. He got behind the curtain and then sat down, his head between his knees, fighting to breathe.
"Travis? What's going on?"
Travis sat up quickly at the sound of his brother's voice. Chase was walking toward him, holding a tiny baby in his arms. He was shocked by the sight of his brother. He looked like a dad, holding that kid like he knew what he was doing. Mira was walking beside him, her brow furrowed as she looked at Travis. He stood up, pulling his shoulders back as they neared him. "I didn't know you were coming to this," he said.
"You look like hell." Chase eyed him. "How much weight have you lost? Twenty pounds? More?"
Travis shrugged. "I don't keep track. What's up?"
"What's going on with you?" Chase asked. "It's not good."
"It's fine." Travis nodded at the sleeping baby, trying to change the subject. "How's the kid?"
Chase'
s face softened, and somehow, all the lines on his face vanished. He looked young, happy, and in love...nothing like the brother Travis knew. "He's amazing. You want to hold him?"
Travis shook his head and backed up a step. "No way. I might drop him."
"You won't drop him," Mira said gently. "Take him. Let him meet his Uncle Travis." She was beaming at him, relaxed and happy, so different from when he'd first met her.
The day he'd met Mira, her eyes had been shadowed, and her entire demeanor had been one of someone fighting desperately not to drown in her life. But now, she was so different. Whole. That was the best word he could think of. "You look great, Mira," he said softly. He didn't mean anything superficial. He meant more than that. Way more.
Her smile softened. "Thanks to you and your brothers standing up for me. I'll owe you for life."
"Nah. Just keep on making my brother happy." When he said it, he realized it was true. Chase had found true happiness. He hadn't thought it possible for a Stockton to get to the place Chase was, but he was clearly wrong. He looked at his brother. "I'm damned happy for you, bro." He really was pleased for Chase, but at the same time, it put a divide between them. Travis had nothing in common with Chase, the family man.
He knew suddenly that this was his last trip to Rogue Valley. He wasn't coming back. Chase had found his roots, and he didn't need to lean on his brothers anymore. Regret bit at Travis, regret that life hadn't turned out differently, disappointment that he hadn't had the capacity to be more than he was, to survive the way Chase had.
But it was what it was. He'd go back on the road. He'd sing. He'd tour. He'd force his way through until the day came when he went to bed, and his soul gave up the fight. It wouldn't be long. He knew that. There was nothing left for him, and he could feel his soul dying with each passing day.
Chase grinned. "Thanks. She makes me happy. Maybe you're next to find your woman, bro."
Lissa flashed through his mind before he could stop it, but he quickly shook his head. "No."
"No? What about Lissa McIntyre? Heard you helped her out last night." Chase gave him an appraising look, and Mira's smile widened.
Travis stiffened. Last night had been his night. Private. Not public, not even for his brother. She was one light that he would take with him, the one moment of peace he'd been given in his life. "She was short-staffed. Just being neighborly."
"You aren't neighborly," Chase said. "You hate the world."
"Yeah, well, so it is what it is." He glanced at his watch. "I gotta go. I need to sign autographs in the main tent."
"You coming to dinner this week?" Chase asked, not moving out of his way.
Travis hesitated. A part of him wanted to go to the ranch one more time, to see his brothers, to see the place that had been his salvation during his youth. But at the same time, he knew he didn't belong there. There was no respite there from his nightmares, and he didn't want to go back there. "I'll try, but I don't think so."
Chase scowled. "I don't know what's going on with you, Travis, but we've got your back. All of us. Whatever you need, whenever you need it."
Travis nodded, his throat tightening at the same words Chase had said to him so long ago, when he'd been seven years old and scared to death that he was going to be killed by his father that night. He'd never forget that loyalty, but he also knew when there was nothing they could do. It was his battle, and he was losing. "I know, bro. Thanks."
Mira touched his arm. "Come to dinner. Even for an hour."
Travis inclined his head. "I'll try. Gotta go." He kissed Mira on the cheek, and brushed his fingers over the baby's head. "Catch you guys later."
He ducked out before they could protest, but he heard their whispered concerns as he walked out of range.
He was surprised at how much it hurt like hell to walk away from his brother's offer, but at the same time, he knew that if he showed up at the ranch and tried to fit into a life that didn't fit him anymore, it would shatter the fragile threads that were barely holding him together.
Later that night, Lissa had to force a smile as she set the plates down in front of her customers. "I'm so sorry it took so long," she said, trying to keep the stress out of her voice. "Free dessert for the delay, okay?'
She'd given away ten free desserts tonight, and she was afraid it wasn't enough. It was barely seven o'clock and she was already so behind. It was even busier than last night, and without help, she was never going to make it.
No one had been available to help her out. Anyone who had free time had already been scooped up by another local business, and the rest of the Rogue Valley residents wanted to enjoy the fair, not waitress for tips and minimum wage.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes as one of the customers shoved back his chair and stormed out, complaining loudly about the poor service. God, this was never going to work. She couldn't afford to lose her income from this week, but there was no way she could keep up. She'd have to shut down some of the tables and close part of the café. She'd have to turn away business…and then what? Start staying open for dinner every night to make up for the lost income? Never see her daughter?
She bit her lower lip, fighting against the cascade of hopelessness trying to overtake her.
No. She wasn't giving up yet. She could do this. She could find a way. She had to find a way.
She swept the abandoned table clean, resetting it with record speed while she tracked the cooking time of the burgers on the grill in her head. She gestured for a waiting couple to be seated, then practically sprinted into the kitchen with the dirty plates—
And then stopped dead, in absolute shock.
Travis was at the grill again, wearing her pink apron, cooking. He'd come back to help her. Instantly, the tears she'd been holding in so ruthlessly spilled over.
He looked up, and she was shocked by the depth of emotion in his eyes. Anger. Fury. Desperation. He looked lost and embattled, stark and raw, as if he'd been dragged through hell and barely survived. He didn't look like a superstar. He looked like someone barely hanging on.
As his gaze settled on hers, however, the darkness vanished from his face, and the anger faded. He swore under his breath and strode over to her. "What's wrong?" He brushed his thumb through the tears trickling down her cheek.
She shook her head. "I just..." She wiped her palm across her cheek, trying to erase the evidence of her weakness. In that moment, she didn't care if he was a celebrity or a homeless man. All that mattered was that he'd come back to help her. God only knew why he was there, but in that moment, it didn't matter. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked. "I couldn't keep up out there, and I couldn't find anyone to help—"
"I got it covered." He framed her face with his hands, his thumbs rubbing across her cheeks. "Don't worry about the food. Just flash that gorgeous smile of yours at the customers, and they'll all forgive you."
She nodded, not even bothering with the polite facade of refusing his charity. She couldn't afford to say no. Later, she'd figure it out, but right now, she could do nothing but accept it. She threw her arms around him, hugging him as fiercely as she could. "Thank you!"
He grinned. "No problem. Now get out of here." He swatted her on the butt, and her heart leapt, but she had no time to dwell on it.
She just grabbed her notepad and hurried out the kitchen door, with fresh hope surging through her. There were still more nights to get through before the fair was over, but tonight she'd been granted a reprieve.
Tonight was saved.
But as she hurried out to her customers, she couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen when the last customer left, and she and Travis were alone. Travis the superstar. Travis the cook. Travis, the man who'd made her heart sing only twenty-four hours ago.
Chapter 8
"Pie time."
Travis looked up from scrubbing the last of the tables as Lissa walked in from the kitchen, carrying two plates of pie topped with ice cream. It was almost two in the morning, and he was tire
d as hell, but not as tired as Lissa looked. He'd worked his ass off all night, chopping vegetables for tomorrow on every break he got. He'd needed to stay busy, to work so hard he had no time to think, and no time to feel. The kitchen was spotless, dishes washed and put away, everything prepped for the next day. It had all been done by the time the last customer left.
And now, he was on the last table.
There was nothing else to do.
Nothing to distract him.
He didn't want to sit down. He didn't want to think. He just wanted to keep going, to outrun the darkness trying to destroy him.
But Lissa set the plates down on one of the tables and took a seat.
He gritted his teeth, tempted to make an excuse, leave, and go for a three-hour run until morning came...but then he thought of the tears in her eyes when she'd found him in the kitchen, and something inside him softened. She'd been desperate, beyond coping, and he'd helped her.
It felt good. Better than any moment he'd had in a long time.
And now, as she propped her chin up on her hand, he could see the weariness in her shoulders. Again, something softened inside him, something that wanted to feel instead of shut down.
He tossed the towel on the table and sat down across from her. "All the prep is done for tomorrow."
"I know. I saw." She studied him, her gaze thoughtful. "Thank you."
"No problem." Something about the way she was looking at him made him tense, as if she saw things that he kept hidden. "So, good night at the till?" He scooped up a sizeable helping of blueberry pie and ice cream.
She nodded. "I saw your poster at the fair today."
He froze, the spoon halfway to his mouth. "What?"
She kept looking at him, searching his face. "Why is Travis Turner working in my kitchen?"
Fuck. He put down the spoon. "Travis Turner is a façade," he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Is that what you saw when you walked back there tonight? Travis Turner, superstar, at your grill?"
A Real Cowboy Never Walks Away (Wyoming Rebels Book 4) Page 6