by Zoe York
“Oh yeah, Olivia said something about that. Army Guy?” Jake laughed.
“No. Uh…” No, Dean wasn’t going to correct him. “Yeah. It’s weird.”
“But you don’t mind it.” Another laugh. “Hey, I get it. Prenatal books, and weird nicknames. This is the stuff they never tell you about.”
“I didn’t see this coming.”
“You never do. Hey, I gotta go. Dani’s on the other line.”
“Later. Thanks, man.”
He sat there looking at his phone for a few minutes longer, thinking about what his brother had said—both deliberately and inadvertently. And when he pulled up at the restaurant, he was smiling.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LIANA was in the middle of singing the same line, over and over again, trying to find just the right end note, when an angry rap on the window of the writing room interrupted them.
Caleb and West were both on their feet, but it was Karen who opened the door and stood bodily in the way of Track coming into the room. “We’re in the middle of a writing session.”
“With one of my signed talent.”
“Liana has every right to be here.” Karen glanced over her shoulder and gave Liana an understanding looking. “But if you’d like five minutes with Track, we can break.”
She pressed her hands, clammy and cold, against her yoga pants. Oh, Dean, hurry back with lunch. Instead of standing, she waved Caleb and West back into their seats. “We’re in the middle of a song. But maybe if you wait five minutes, we can wrap it up?” She took a deep breath as an even better idea came to her. “In fact, come in. Sit down.”
Karen’s eyebrows hit the roof, but she stepped out of the way. Track couldn’t refuse the invite, although he looked like he wanted to, so in he came. He stood against the far wall, and the icy blast radiating off him would normally have killed her creativity, but this song was good, and more to the point, it was essentially done.
She picked up the guitar again and looked to her drummer, then to Caleb, and finally to Karen. “From the top? It’s down to you and it’s down to me. I like that version best.”
West hit play on the drum line he’d already recorded into Pro Tools, and grabbed a shaker to add some depth. She starting strumming, a fast, steady beat, and then dropped into the off-tempo, unexpected accompaniment for the melody.
Caleb gave her a fast grin before they started singing together.
* * *
It’s gonna be what it’s gonna be
And it’s gonna hurt like it’s gonna hurt
But there’s no doubt
Can’t have doubt
Cause it’s gonna circle back circle back
And in the end it’s down to you and it’s down to me
The way it’s gonna be
You and me
Circle back
Gonna hurt
You and me
* * *
They stretched out the last two words, then she played another few bars before letting it fade. It was good. It wasn’t her, not a song she’d ever want to record, but being a part of creating it was a massive thrill.
And even better, Track was stunned silent.
Another knock came at the door, this one gentle. Dean held up two bags of takeout food, and she gestured him in.
It took him a single stride to realize Track was in the room. Another to get between them, and turn his back on the other man long enough to make eye contact with her. You okay?
She nodded and he navigated his way around the stand of guitars to the long table against the window, leaving the food there before returning to stand next to her, feet wide and arms crossed.
Track stood, and so did West and Caleb.
Too many standing men.
She rolled her eyes at Karen, then joined them. “West, Caleb…you guys start eating. Don’t touch my salad. Karen, could we use your boardroom?”
“Can I join you?”
She gave the older woman a curious look, but shrugged. “Sure.” She held up her hand when Track started to protest. “I’m on her dime today, Track. You can deal.”
She let her hand brush against Dean’s as she turned, hooking her fingers around his for a quick squeeze. Come with me, she told him, and he followed. Maybe because she’d invited him, maybe because wild dogs couldn’t keep him from her side when her ex was in the room.
Either way she didn’t care. Kind of liked the latter reason, really. Hoped it meant something more than she should really hope for. But wanting Dean felt good, so she let her heart stay there, in the safe-for-now embrace of hope.
Once they were all in the boardroom, Liana decided not to sit. She wasn’t wearing heels today, so she didn’t have a height advantage, but being able to pace felt freeing.
“Okay, Track, what is so urgent that you needed to interrupt our writing session, and that you needed to ignore my request that you go through my management for these conversations?”
“If we go through management, you’re going to lose the contract.” His words were thunderous, and unexpected.
She froze, her heart stopping too, mid-slam against her ribcage. “What?”
“We can only produce what we can sell, and you aren’t young enough anymore to write an edgy album.”
“What the actual fuck?” Those four words had echoed in Liana’s mind, but they came out of Karen’s mouth. “What the actual serious fuck does that mean?”
Track opened his mouth, but Liana’s new hero—heroine—wasn’t having any of it. She stood up and crossed the room, slinging her arm around Liana’s shoulders. “Either produce the album she delivered to you or sell it to me,” Karen said smoothly, as if one of country’s biggest stars wasn’t seething in front of her. “I’d love to bring Liana in house as more than an occasional songwriter. She’s an incredible talent.”
“Thank you,” Liana whispered, still shocked at Track’s real reason for rejecting her album.
Too old?
She was thirty.
Track stood as well, swore under his breath, then glanced back and forth between Dean and Liana before throwing his hands in the air. “Good riddance, then.”
He swung the boardroom door open so fast it slammed against the wall, and she jumped.
No, it wasn’t that easy, was it?
She turned to look at Karen, who shook her head. “No, not that easy.”
“Did I say that out loud?”
The other woman nodded. “But it’s the start. You’ve got a witness.” She pointed at Dean.
He winced. “Track hardly accepts me as a neutral third party.”
Karen shrugged. “Doubt that would matter to a judge.”
Liana felt faint. “Surely it won’t go that far.”
“Depends on if his label partners want to hang on to you. I’m serious, I’ll buy your contract out from them, but if they don’t want to let you go, then you need to be prepared for a breach of contract fight.”
“I just want to make music. Why would they sue me?” But she knew why. Because it was a business at the end of the day, and that was how cold, ruthless business people dealt with problems like her. “What do I need to give them to avoid that?”
“If they don’t let me buy out your contract, then I think you should give them right of refusal on all the songs you’ve written.”
A frisson of fear skittered down Liana’s spine. “All of them? What if they want them all?”
“That’s not going to happen. So play their game. They didn’t like this album you delivered? Give them another. And another. Be careful that you get it all in writing. So you’ll email your coordinator at the label, someone low level, and let them know you had a meeting with Track today. An unexpected one, and you think he wanted to see more songs. Did he? Can she confirm what he wants? And then worst case scenario, if they backtrack, then tell them you’ve recorded a few more songs than you expected, and can you present some at the originally scheduled meeting, and maybe set up a second one to fill in the gaps of
the album based on what they like from the first meeting?”
“So I can control the spin on the second set of songs,” Liana said slowly, the pieces falling into place. She glanced over at Dean. “Sorry. I think we’re going to be here all night now.”
He just shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. You’re the boss.” He hesitated. “But I need to tell you about something that happened earlier.”
“Something bad?”
He winced. “Depends. Given what just happened, maybe not. But I had a run in with Track before he found you and I lost my cool.”
Her eyebrows hit the roof. She didn’t know that was possible. “What did you do?”
“It may have come to blows.”
“Blows, plural?”
“Nah. I decked him.”
“Oh, honey. No, that’s not a problem in the least.” She hesitated and looked at Karen. “Do you have security cameras?”
The other woman gave her an innocent look. “I don’t think they’re on today.”
* * *
— —
* * *
By the time they fell asleep, Liana was seriously blissed out from the possibilities she’d never imagined before, and her dreams reflected that.
But morning brought reality with it. It was back to work later today, with an afternoon into evening drive to Tulsa. She was playing at a festival there the next day, and the soundcheck was first thing in the morning. And since she didn’t like to sleep on the road, they were leaving mid-day.
Her plan.
She scowled. What a terrible idea that had been.
Beside her, Dean roused. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice sleep-rough and husky.
Terrible, terrible idea.
“I never want to get up,” she whispered, snuggling back into the hard warmth of his body.
“Not even for a delicious kale smoothie?”
She snorted. “You really want me to take you out for a diner breakfast, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“I know a place.”
“Smoothies are fine.”
She smiled. No, they’d go to a diner. He’d put up with her food for three days. She knew a good one that could do a vegetable hash for her.
They drove, because it was a hot morning already, and after breakfast she wanted to swing downtown again. She felt a pang of guilt as they passed Jackie’s house. “Do you mind if we invite Jackie and Andrew? She just lives there—” She pointed back down the block.
“Of course not.” He frowned. “Why would I?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know. Okay.” From the driver’s seat, he squeezed her left hand as she typed out a quick text message with her right. Then she remembered he didn’t know where they were going. She should have driven, but he looked really good behind the wheel. Strong and capable and the way his arm curved against the wheel, with the sun glinting in the hair on his forearm… If he was more of a social media person, she’d totally have Instagrammed that with the hashtag #ArmGuy. He was drool worthy.
“We almost there?”
Oh right. She’d been thinking about that, too. “Next block. It’s on the corner, but we’ll have to go past it to find parking.”
“You’re distracted this morning.”
“It’s possible I have a crush on you.” She grinned.
He just laughed, deep and rich, and that didn’t help the situation. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Fluttered. Oh boy.
* * *
— —
* * *
There was a small crowd in front of the Sky Blue Cafe as they cruised past, so Dean turned onto the next block and found a free parking spot on the side street.
When he came around to her side of the car, she took his hand, and he lifted their clasped fingers so he could brush a quick kiss to her knuckles.
He liked holding her hand.
It was a little thing, really, but three days of being together, really together, had shifted something inside him.
And when they arrived at the restaurant, and that crowd had gone inside, so they were waiting at the outdoor “Please Wait To Be Seated” sign by themselves, he didn’t want to let go.
“When we get back on the bus,” he said in a rush. “We can…people could…”
She smiled up at him. “You trying to ask me something?”
The real strength of what he wanted to say needed to be saved for another time and place. “I don’t want to stop holding your hand.”
“Then don’t.”
He ducked his head and kissed her gently. Her mouth was so soft, it undid him every time.
She smiled again, this time against his lips.
“This is interesting,” someone—Andrew—said from behind them. Dean gave the bassist a slow up and down look as he turned around, because he and Liana weren’t the only ones holding hands. Andrew and Jackie had made up from their fight in a big way.
Liana didn’t look surprised, though. Secrets, eh? Not his to know, Dean guessed. So he just shrugged. “Who’s hungry?”
A young woman in high-waisted jeans held up by suspenders over a Dolly For President shirt came out to seat them, saving them from any further awkward relationship conversations.
Inside, the cafe was stuffed to the gills with hipsters. Jackie recognized someone, so she took a detour to talk to a couple covered in gorgeous tattoos.
The rest of them followed the waitress to a table at the back. “Drinks?” she asked.
Liana ordered a coconut milk latte for herself and one for Jackie as well. Dean wanted his coffee black, and Andrew shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”
She left them with menus, which looked like the place catered to both Liana—egg white omelettes—and Dean’s tastes, too. A south-west omelette covered in chili with a side of sourdough toast? Holy shit, that made his stomach growl.
Jackie joined them a minute later, and she reached across the table to grab a box of Trivial Pursuit cards tucked against the wall. Dean watched in amusement as the three bandmates all moved in synch with each other, shuffling through the randomized deck to find the music trivia questions, passing sugar to Andrew when their coffee arrived, Jackie collecting the menus like a bossy older sibling as the waitress took their orders.
He liked it all. He liked that Liana had this. Hope worried about her, but she had a pretty good little family going on here.
She had a blood family, too, but she didn’t talk about them much. Her parents were divorced, had been since she was a kid, and she’d left her mother’s trailer at eighteen, never to return. She’d told him she saw them every few years. She’d been closest to her maternal grandmother, but her MeeMaw had died when she was a teenager.
He couldn’t imagine not seeing his father. Even though the old man was a bastard, they still did a regular-ish family dinner.
On the other hand, Hope also had a difficult relationship with her mother, and no relationship with her father. So it wasn’t a surprise they’d found each other, and found others. Family could be chosen. And sometimes that was for the best.
He’d chosen Zander as a brother in kindergarten. And now they were brothers through marriage, too. He thought of Jake, and Dani, and he pulled out his phone to take a picture of the restaurant. Dani would love it. Maybe after their baby arrived, they could come down for a visit.
And visit who? Liana?
He’d told her he was going home. He told her he wouldn’t be able to stick around after the end of the tour.
But he liked holding her hand.
As if she could sense he was thinking far too heavy thoughts for so early in the morning, Liana found his hand with hers under the table and gave his fingers a quick squeeze.
“Hey, can we ask about yesterday?” Jackie said, leaning in and lowering her voice.
Liana glanced around, then shrugged. “I guess. Did West fill you in?”
Jackie nodded. “That’s crazy.”
“Well, that’s…” She trailed off and glanced at Andrew.
&n
bsp; He just laughed. “That’s Track.”
“I know you like him.”
“I like his music. And he doesn’t even write it. He’s a great stylist, but fuck him. He’s not a great person. I’m on Team Liana, all the way.”
“I don’t want there to be teams.” She groaned softly, and now it was Dean’s turn to squeeze her hand. She took a sip of her latte before continuing. “It’s a small town in so many ways. I just want to keep my nose clean and make music.”
“Do you think Track is really cutting you loose?” Jackie asked.
Liana shook her head. “No. I mean, I get that he wants to. He wants to threaten me with that. But my sales are good. My fan base is solid and I sell out concerts. I’m struggling to get songs that rise to the top of the charts, but that’s because of them, not me. As a songwriter, I’ve got that number one spot, so I can get it as a singer, too.”
Dean didn’t know that. Had that been in his research on her? Maybe he hadn’t understood enough about her job when he’d done his reading.
“You owe him an album, right? And then you’re free?” Andrew frowned. “Can you not just…make the album he wants?”
Both Liana and Jackie shook their heads at the same time. “It’s more complicated than that,” Liana said. “A bad release is almost worse than not releasing at all in terms of getting another deal.”
Andrew frowned. “But what if you don’t need another deal?”
Liana laughed. “Well, it would be hard to keep paying you if I didn’t have a new album to tour on.”
“Why do you need someone else to necessarily release your next album?” Andrew held up his hand. “Hear me out. I’m not so naive to think just fuck the labels, as nice as that would be. But what if you could drop an indie album soon after the label album.”
Jackie sat up straighter in her chair, then did another look around before leaning in. “That’s a good question. If you had another album ready to go…”