Girl in Love

by Quinn, Caisey

  AFTER WRITING a song he knew he’d probably never have the balls to sing in public, Trace sprawled on his couch and stared at the ceiling fan. The cherry oak blades drifted lazily in circles, but he didn’t see them. He saw her.

  She was different. Guarded. Less…something.

  It was as if someone had coached her. Her sassy Oklahoma accent was less pronounced. She carried herself with the grace of someone older and wiser than he remembered. She thought before she acted, before she spoke. For just a moment last night, he’d seen her slip. Caught a glimpse of the Hothead who had turned his whole world inside out.

  The Kylie Ryans he’d known was open, honest, and wore her heart on her sleeve. The girl—no, woman—he’d seen last night was closed off, holding everything in, and had her heart on maximum-security lockdown.

  Because of me.

  Understanding hit him hard, as hard—if not harder—than the urge to drink always did.

  I love it… I love you, she’d told him when he’d bought her daddy’s truck and given it to her. And he’d said nothing. She’d handed him her whole heart and he’d fumbled it. His fists clenched as he lay there. No wonder she’d hidden it away.

  There was still another factor he was trying not to think about. But it was pretty hard to ignore with its tattoos and screaming guitars and the annoying smirk Trace wanted to sucker-punch right off its damn face.

  Maybe she wasn’t hiding her heart from the world. Maybe he just couldn’t see it anymore because she’d given it to someone else.

  THE NEXT morning, the blaring ring of her phone compounded the hangover from hell. She’d stopped using music as her ringtone and just used a traditional one. It was irritating, but at least it didn’t dredge up any painful memories.

  “Ugh,” she groaned as she rolled over and glanced at her phone. Bright blue eyes greeted her. “Morning, Blythe,” she greeted her caller.

  “It’s noon, Ryans. You missed the opportunity to tell me good morning.”

  “Damn. How will I ever go on?” She yawned and sat up in her bed. Which she didn’t remember getting into. She owed Mia one. Or more than one.

  “I’ll let you make it up to me. Somehow. Want to have lunch? Or breakfast in your case? I’m in the neighborhood.”

  Well this was new. Steven Blythe had gone from a once upon a time late-night fool around friend to just a plain old friend. Though he wasn’t exactly someone she expected to be asking her on a lunch date.

  “Oh-kay. Where do you want to meet?”

  “How about at your front door?”

  Kylie jumped up and sprinted to her bathroom. “Um, okay. So, like, you’re here now?”

  She almost cried out when she saw her reflection. Her hair was tangled to hell and back and her makeup was smeared all over her face. She had no idea if the dark rings under her eyes were from crying her mascara off last night or lack of sleep.

  A low rumble of laughter came through the line. “Yeah, I’m heading to the elevator now.”

  “Okay. See you in a minute.” Kylie disconnected the call and splashed some water on her face. Shit that was cold. After brushing her teeth and throwing on an old Rum Room T-shirt and jeans, she met her unexpected visitor at the door.

  “Morning, babe. You didn’t have to get all fixed up for me.” Steven gave her his wickedly adorable grin and an appreciative once-over.

  Kylie pulled her hair up into a messy bun and rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome,” she told him as she grabbed her keys and sunglasses off the table by the door. “So where to?”

  “Wanna grab something at the Rum Room? Or hit one of the diners down the street?”

  She’d already locked her door when she realized she’d forgotten two of the most important items she owned.

  “Oh crap.” She sighed and turned back around. “I need to grab my wallet and my phone. I don’t know where my head is today. Sorry.”

  She wasn’t one to sleep in, and normally her daily life was scheduled down to the minute. She was beginning to realize why.

  Steven’s warm hands wrapped around hers. “I’m buying. And you can make it through one meal without your phone, right?”

  She froze, wondering if she actually could make it through a meal without her phone. She couldn’t remember the last time she had. And he was buying? And holding her hand? So this was a date? Her head filled with questions she was still too hungover to answer.

  “Okay. But, um, I eat like a dude, so consider yourself warned.”

  Steven grinned as they left her apartment building. “Maybe take it easy on me then. I’m out of a job.”

  Kylie stopped and turned to face him. “You’re what?”

  Placing a hand on her lower back urging her forward, he continued. “It’s not a big deal. Band’s just taking a breather.”

  “The hell it isn’t a big deal. You guys are about to be freaking huge. You’re like the unsigned band to be right now. I thought there was interest from Electrick and all that?”

  He shrugged as he held the door to the diner open for her. “Things got…complicated.”

  Kylie raised an eyebrow at him but he didn’t offer anything further. She watched as Steven nodded to a pretty redheaded waitress. As she took in his tight black T-shirt and the tattoos banding his thick arms, a slow smile spread across the woman’s face. Kylie barely managed to keep from laughing out loud.

  The woman gestured to an empty booth Kylie would’ve bet money was in her section and they slid in.

  “So, Miss-Eats-Like-A-Dude, what’ll it be?”

  “Come on, Blythe,” Kylie began, using her hand to lower the menu he held. “Talk to me. What’s really going on?”

  He sighed, setting the menu aside and turning the full force of his bright blue eyes on her.

  “Chris isn’t feeling the new sound. He says we’re letting the media influence make us too ‘mainstream.’” Steven used air quotes on the last word. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s right. But lately he and I have just…” He smacked his two fists together as an illustration. “Just been coming up on opposite sides of every discussion you know? And BJ is tired of it. He gets stressed out really easily. Kid had a rough home life.”

  “So what are you guys going to do? Just break up? That’s asinine.”

  Steven ran a hand through his already messy black hair and shifted in his seat, but before he could answer, the redhead appeared to take their order.

  “What can I get for you?” she asked, green eyes locked on Kylie’s breakfast companion.

  Kylie didn’t miss the flirty grin Steven shot the waitress before motioning for her to take Kylie’s order first.

  She thrust her menu at her. “Yeah, I’ll have the pancakes and bacon with extra syrup please. And an orange juice and a large coffee, black.”

  The waitress gave her a tight-lipped smile. “And you?” she said, taking Kylie’s menu and turning back to Steven.

  “Same, I guess.”

  When she was finally gone, Kylie turned back to Steven. He was spinning a saltshaker back and forth between his large hands.

  “You do her or what?”

  “What?” His eyebrows shot upward as he looked at her with wide eyes.

  “No? So all women get ridiculous around you like that? Because if they do, this is our last breakfast date. It’s too early for me to watch some chick ogle you. Her desperation is making me nauseated.” Kylie yawned, which nearly made her giggle at the perfect timing of it.

  “Aw, Ryans, you’re jealous.” With a wink, Steven leaned in closer to her. “Actually, that’s kind of a turn-on of mine.”

  “You’re a jackass.” Kylie sat back and folded her arms. “For one, I don’t do jealous. For two, I’m more interested in hearing what the hell’s going on with the band than what turns you on. And for three, can we just focus on one thing for a second? I swear I think you have an attention deficit issue.”

  He chuckled and slid the saltshaker aside. “For one, I was just messing with you about being jealous. For two, th
e band is on a break…indefinitely. And three, I actually do. My parents made me take medicine for it when I was a kid but it made me feel dead so I stopped.”

  Kylie huffed out a breath. “Figures. Okay, so tell me the truth. You and Chris butting heads—is it really over the direction of the band or a certain brunette we both know and have likely seen naked?”

  “You’ve seen her naked?”

  “We toured together, so the answer should be obvious. It was a small bus. But I’m guessing from the way you nearly fell out of your seat that you haven’t. And that’s the issue.”

  Propping his elbows on the table, Steven regarded her warily. “What if I have? You don’t care?”

  Kylie tossed her hands up, palms facing him. “Whoa. This isn’t about me. This is about you and the band and whether or not you’re throwing your career away over a girl.”

  Isn’t it?

  Kylie felt a panic attack coming on as the overwhelming possibility that this impromptu meeting was about much more than breakfast overtook her. “Steven…” She bit her lip as she tried to find the words to say what she wanted to.

  “Relax, Ryans. I know. Jealousy isn’t your thing. Got it. But I wonder, if it was a certain—”

  “Don’t. Whatever you’re going to say, don’t.” She could feel it in the air when people were about to mention Trace. Everything inside of her tensed up.

  “All right. My bad. So yeah, in all honesty, whatever’s going on with me and Chris, Mia Montgomery isn’t helping matters any.”

  Kylie nodded. Surprisingly, the admission didn’t sting. Not even a little. She wondered briefly if something was wrong with her. “Well, have you talked to Chris about it?”

  The waitress reappeared with their food, and Steven waited to answer until she’d gone.

  “Yeah, and it hasn’t gone over well. Our last conversation ended with us deciding not to tour at all until next year. If even then.”

  “I’m sorry. That sucks. Seriously. You want me to talk to Mia?” Not that she knew what she’d say, but she could at least let her friend know that her relationship with Chris was causing tension.

  “Um, no. What would you say, Ryans? Hey, Mia, at some point between Steven giving me countless orgasms, he mentioned that you and Chris dry humping during band rehearsal was distracting and he’d like for you to quit. Yeah, that should go over well.”

  Kylie felt her face redden at least ten shades. “You did not just say orgasms and dry humping over breakfast.”

  “I did. And so did you.” Steven snatched a piece of bacon off her plate and crammed it in his mouth. She didn’t care. It was chewy and gross instead of crispy like she liked.

  “Ugh. How did we get so…”

  “Fucked up? Easy. We got rejected by the people we cared about and then we used each other for a distraction of a physical nature.”

  Kylie shook her head. “You know, sometimes I’m not actually looking for a literal answer.” In spite of herself, she grinned when he did.

  He shrugged. “Then don’t ask me questions.”

  “You’re such a guy.”

  Steven smirked. “Yeah, I am. Glad you noticed. But you, on the other hand, have barely touched your food. Some dude you are.”

  “I can’t eat with the waitress glaring at us and you talking about your career ending like it’s no big deal and tossing around the o-word all while trying to figure out how to get Mia to stop dry humping your lead singer.” She rubbed her temples and tried to think.

  “Hey,” Steven said softly, reaching over the table to pull her hands from her head. “This isn’t your problem, Ryans. I didn’t ask you here to stress you out.”

  “Why did you ask me here?” She swallowed hard. If this was the part where he said he wanted more, wanted a relationship or something, she was screwed. She wasn’t interested in that—not with Steven or anyone. And turning a guy down when his band was breaking up seemed pretty bitchy, even for her.

  She watched as he sucked in a breath. “I just wanted to know if you knew of anyone who might need a lead guitarist. If I don’t find something soon, it’s back to Georgia I go. There’s an open spot on my dad’s construction crew with my name on it.” His pained expression made her heart ache. Though she was breathing easily since it hadn’t been a profession of love he’d blurted out.

  “Steven, surely—”

  “Look, don’t do the pity party thing. Just keep an ear out, okay? If anything opens up, let me know.”

  She nodded, mentally scanning her brain for anything she might have heard about bands needing guitar players. She stood as he tossed some bills on the table. The fact that the waitress hadn’t even had a chance to leave a check with her number on it made her want to snicker.

  Once they were outside, she was hit with another fleeting wave of panic. Would he walk her home? Should she invite him in? Would anything happen between them if she did? Did she want anything to happen?

  “Um…”

  “I’ve got a few leads to follow up on about gigs this weekend. But I’ll call you. Or call me if you hear of anything.”

  “Okay. Thanks for breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome. Later, Ryans.” With a quick kiss on the forehead and a one-arm hug, Steven headed off in the other direction.

  We got rejected by the people we cared about and then we used each other for a distraction of a physical nature.

  He’d pretty much summed it up perfectly. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. The reason she didn’t feel jealous over the waitress or Mia—or anything really—was because her heart wasn’t in it. At least this time she knew Steven’s heart wasn’t in it either.

  Last time, she’d been stupid enough to think the other person’s actually had been.

  “THIS IS the offer. It’s not something they’re willing to negotiate. It’s, ‘Here’s what we have. Take it or walk.’” Maude Lowenstein lifted a bony shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s better than nothing as far as I’m concerned.”

  “She won’t go for it. Not in a million years. All she wanted at the benefit was for me to stay the hell away from her.” Trace shook his head and tried not to wince at the memory.

  His agent and his manager sat across from him in the conference room at Capital Letter Records. He’d thought he’d been called in to sign his dissolution papers. But Noel Davies had sprung one last option on him, one last proposition of the fuck-you-flavored variety.

  “She’s not in a position to be turning down the label’s offers either. She already turned down a world tour with Bryce Parker.” His agent lowered her glasses. “Care to know why?”

  He fought the urge to grin and cleared his throat. “No. And you probably shouldn’t be discussing her with me. She’s just as much your client as I am.”

  “Yes, she is. And if two of my clients are about to be touring together, I can discuss it with whomever I so chose.” The woman paused as if waiting for him to challenge her. When he didn’t, she continued. “So here’s why I think she’ll be more agreeable than you suspect. In the meeting when they offered her a spot on Parker’s tour, she said, and I quote, ‘I’m not going on tour with some cheap knock-off Trace Corbin wannabe,’ end quote.”

  “She said that?”

  “Yes, she did. So again, she’s not really in a position to turn down a tour with the real thing, now is she?”

  “I don’t think she cares about what kind of position she’s in,” Pauly chimed in. “She’ll probably tell the label to kiss her chart-topping ass if they even suggest she and Trace share a bus for the next few months.”

  Trace shook his head. Discussing Kylie and positions was doing things to him. Causing him to think things one should not be thinking during business meetings.

  “Pauly’s right. She’s not going to go for this. The label can threaten me all they want because I’m on my last leg, but she probably has offers lined up.”

  Pauly nodded, and even Maude was quiet for a moment.

  “What if we let her think i
t was her idea?”

  “What?” both men asked, almost in unison.

  “Just think about it. You and she have a history, Trace. Talk to her. Tell her you need a big act for your next tour or the label’s cutting you loose. Say whatever you have to.”

  He didn’t waste time even considering that option. “I won’t do that to her. She doesn’t owe me anything. She’d be the first to tell you so.”

  “So make her want to tour with you. Take her to dinner. Take her to bed. Whatever.” The woman leaned back in her seat as if the matter was settled.

  “You’re such a romantic, Maude. I’m not going to screw Kylie Ryans into touring with me. And the fact that you’re even suggesting it makes me think the only thing I should be telling her is that she needs a new agent.”

  “Trace—” Pauly began, but Maude cut him off.

  “Look, from where you sit, this probably looks really complicated and messy. But from where I sit, it’s pretty damn cut and dry. Here’s the thing about this business. The most talented artist isn’t always the one who makes it big. You know who is? The one the media pays the most attention to, the one who works the hardest to stay out front, the one who does whatever it takes—regardless of things like fairness and feelings and all that other pretentious preschool bullshit—to make their career what they want it to be. So you want more platinum-selling albums? You convince Kylie Ryans to do this The Other Side of Me Tour. Or you can walk away from this and let these twelve-year-olds take over country music and put your ass out to pasture.”

  She stood to leave and Trace closed his eyes. An entourage surrounding some kid whose eyes had been glued to his cellphone had nearly plowed him down on his way into the meeting.

  “That’s Collin Hanes,” Pauly had informed him. “He’s sixteen and his album is number one on iTunes.”

  The little shit looked like he was there for Take Your Kid to Work Day.

  Trace opened his eyes and let out a loud breath. “I won’t play games or trick her into this. But I’ll try. I’ll do what I can to try and convince her.”