The Kylie Ryans Series: Girl with Guitar, Girl on Tour, Girl in Love (extended edition)

by Caisey Quinn

  He raised a brow and opened his mouth to respond. But at that same moment, a waitress appeared and asked for their drink order. Kylie didn’t miss how flustered the girl became when she got an eyeful of Trace. It would’ve been irritating, but really, with the way he looked tonight, Kylie couldn’t blame her. She was still trying to get a handle on her own self.

  When the waitress left, Trace leaned across the table. “Actually, I take that back. I’ve heard you ask nicely a time or two. Matter of fact, it bordered on begging. I think it went something like, ‘Oh God, yes, please. Trace, please.’”

  Heat crawled over her skin at his imitation of her. Barely keeping the grin of embarrassment from her face, she shook her head. “You’re not right. What kind of thing is that to say to a girl on a first date?”

  He grinned back, the promise of something dark gleaming in his eyes. “Considering this date is going to end with that dress on my bedroom floor and your legs wrapped around my neck, I think it’s a perfectly acceptable thing to say.”

  Good Lord. What was she going to do with this man? Oh yeah. Exactly what he’d just described. “Not if you don’t buy me dessert it isn’t. No dessert, no love.”

  Trace leaned back in his seat, easing up the intensity of his stare and allowing her to finally breathe normally. “Hmm, I’ll think about it.”

  A HALF hour later, they were discussing how their shows had gone and enjoying their steaks. So naturally, she had to go and ruin it.

  She cleared her throat. This conversation had been put on hold long enough and it was time, whether she liked it or not. “So, any chance you’re going to tell me how this ended up being a co-headlining tour?”

  Trace sighed and put his fork down. Propping his elbows on the table, he leaned forward.

  “Yeah. But in the interest of full disclosure, I probably have to go back further than that.”

  Kylie put her own fork down and took a sip of her sweet tea. “Okay.”

  Trace took a deep breath before he began. “I’ve been wanting this type of tour for as long as I’ve been with Capital. Outdoor venues, cheaper tickets, tailgating style, you know? I’m nothin’ special. Just a regular guy. I wanted anyone who wanted to hear my music to be able to come and just have a good time. Let loose, drink a few beers, and enjoy a decent show.” He shrugged and Kylie fought the urge to correct him. She’d seen him perform. He put on so much more than a decent show. But his eyes were getting that far away look and she knew it was best to let him talk while he was in the mood to open up.

  “The label seemed to be going for it. Finally. Honestly, I probably have you to thank for that. The rumors about us, the Cinderella story stuff, made me look like Prince Charming instead of Captain Panty Dropper as you so lovingly refer to me.”

  He winked and she laughed out loud.

  “Anyways, as soon as the venues are all set and everything’s falling into place, Noel Davies drops this bomb on me. On all of us really. Gretchen is my co-headliner, and it’s either suck it up and deal or Bryce Parker can take my place. On my tour. The one I’ve been working my ass off to arrange.”

  Kylie winced. “Ouch.” Maybe I don’t want to sign with his label after all.

  “Yeah.” Trace huffed out a breath and then took a drink of his Coke. “That’s not the worst part.”

  She held her breath, unsure as to what to expect.

  “I knew Gretchen…before. And Noel Davies knows that.”

  The air whooshed from her lungs. There was something about the way he said knew that hit her wrong. “Knew as in…”

  For a split second he looked as if he were in pain, but then he continued. “As in when I first moved to Nashville with a few guys I was in a band with, she sort of joined up with us. Her real name is Gretchen Warner, and she’s from a small coastal town in South Carolina. But she had a Gibson Hummingbird, similar to yours actually. She was in love with it. I mean, in love. As in I think she slept with it in her bed. So another guy in the band started calling her Gibson. And Gretchen Gibson was born.” Trace shook his head. Kylie tried to ignore the ache caused by his tone. He held some type of affection for Gretchen in his voice. It was subtle, but she could hear it.

  “Anyways, we were all young and stupid. No offense.” He winked and she rolled her eyes.

  “None taken.”

  “A bunch of shit happened and the band broke up. Not exactly on amicable terms either. She went off and did her own thing and so did the rest of us. We…crossed paths a few times but that was that. Guess who her very first agent was?”

  Kylie backtracked through her mind and tried to put the pieces together. “Noel Davies?”

  “Name your prize, pretty lady.”

  Kylie smirked. “Okay, but I still don’t get it? Why force her off on you?”

  She watched as his forehead wrinkled over his brow. He rubbed his neck for a moment before meeting her gaze. “She’s a mess. You were dead on when you called her the female version of me. She drinks like a pirate, pisses herself on stage, flashes the audience if she gets it in her screwed up head to do so. I think the only reason people even buy tickets to her concerts is so they can say they saw whatever outrageous shit she does next. Davies can’t say to hell with her because she probably knows more about him than anyone. So he added a conduct unbecoming clause to the contract for this tour. If either of us screws up and breaches the contract, he’s free of us courtesy of the label’s new policy. Like me, Gretchen’s all out of favors. So what better way to cut two fuck-ups loose than to stick them together? We’re gasoline and matches, and all Capital has to do is sit back and wait for the explosion.”

  If she disliked Gretchen Gibson before, she downright hated her now. “Trace, you can’t let them do this. It isn’t fair. It’s not…right.”

  He shrugged and picked up his knife and fork. “It is what it is. I had my chance. I had several chances. I screwed up and now I have to take what I can get. Even if it’s…well, you know.”

  She watched as he finished off the last bite of his steak. “But you’re doing better. You’re working so hard and—”

  “Lots of people work hard, Kylie Lou. Doesn’t mean we always get what we want. Besides, Gretchen isn’t out to get me or anything. She’s too busy ruining her own life to interfere with mine all that much.”

  She handed the waitress her plate and bit her lip as he did the same. It sure as hell felt like Gretchen was interfering on their night right now so she changed the subject. “Oh,” she said as the waitress sat her Tiramisu in front of her. “I never got the chance to tell you that I went to see Donovan Taite.”

  Trace had just taken a bite of his cheesecake. He swallowed and then gaped at her. “No shit?”

  She nodded. “No shit. And um, it didn’t go all that well.”

  “Kylie, I told you not to—”

  “He came to the show tonight, Trace. And get this, he told me I was right and he was wrong and he thanked me. Sort of. And he said my daddy would be proud if he could see me.” She placed a spoonful of her dessert in her mouth and her eyes closed involuntarily. Damn, it was good. She’d have settled for ice cream at the little shop she’d seen on her way in. But even a scoop of mint chocolate chip couldn’t compare to this.

  When she opened her eyes, Trace was watching her. She couldn’t decipher what was going on in his gaze, which was unusual. She’d gotten pretty good at reading him. “What?”

  He shook himself out of his trance. “Nothing. Just thinking that I am majorly screwed. If you can bring a man like Donovan Taite to his knees, then I don’t stand a chance.”

  A grin broke out over her face. “Hmm, you on your knees. Now where have I seen than before?”

  Trace’s eyes widened and he nearly choked on his cheesecake.

  “Ah yes, the shower date you owe me.”

  “You finished?” he asked, jerking his head towards her plate.

  “I am now.” She stared into his scorching gaze. God, she loved those eyes.

  He didn’t
break eye contact for a single second as his arm shot into the air. “Check, please.”

  “CLOSE YOUR eyes,” Trace told her as they walked out into the warm Georgia night.

  “What? Why?” His girlfriend shot him an annoyed look and he couldn’t help but smirk back at her.

  “Just do it. Please, for me?” He put his arm around her so he could guide her in the direction he wanted. “See? I can ask nicely, too.”

  She shook her head but did as she was told. He walked her around to the place where he’d parked her surprise.

  “Okay, open.”

  She didn’t say anything, but her mouth dropped open into that little O of surprise he loved. When she turned to him, her eyes said more than her mouth ever could. She was shocked, sad, happy, and grateful. He couldn’t hold back anymore, so he did what he’d been wanting to do since she’d strutted up in the restaurant in that damn dress. His lips sought hers out as she clung to him. Her tongue pressed into his mouth, and he tasted the sweet cream and espresso flavor of her dessert. Once they were both out of breath, he pulled back. “So you like it then?”

  She nodded, glancing back at the red and gray ’88 Chevy pickup in the parking lot. “I love it. Is it—”

  “It is,” he confirmed her unfinished question as he led her to the driver’s side. “And Lord help me, I’m going to let you drive us to the house.”

  She grinned and leaned up for another kiss. “How’d you get it? Oh God, Trace. Please tell me you didn’t steal it.”

  He laughed as he helped her up into the cab. He jogged around to the passenger side and hopped in. “No, Kylie Lou, I didn’t steal it. I negotiated. I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

  “So she actually sold it to you?”

  He nodded. It hadn’t been an easy process getting it here tonight, and he’d paid four times what her daddy’s truck was actually worth. But there was no reason for her to know that. “Yeah, babe. She did. Now are we going to sit here all night talking about it, or you going to take me home and have your way with me?”

  His beautiful girl turned on the seat, the weathered leather beneath her groaning in protest. Knowing he’d put that light in her eyes, that best-day-of-my-life look on her face, made it well worth it. He’d have paid five times more than he did. Ten times over. He leaned over to kiss her once more. But she did something he wasn’t expecting. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she yanked him to her and practically climbed on top of him. He buried his hands in her thick hair as she kissed him so hard it hurt. He groaned out loud. She was the best kind of pain. The addictive kind. He licked against her tongue and her swollen lips in the same way he liked to lick against her clit when they made love. Her sweet moan said she recognized the gesture. He hoped her daddy wouldn’t haunt him from the grave for contemplating sex with his daughter in his truck.

  “Thank you,” she breathed when they came up for air. “I love it. I…I love you.”

  Time stopped and his hands let go of her even though he didn’t mean for them to. His chest began to throb due to the painful punch of his heart against his ribs. You were supposed to say it first, you fucking moron. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Say it back. Say it the hell back, Corbin. But when he swallowed, it was as if he’d swallowed the words.

  When he opened his eyes, they met her wide, shocked ones. She didn’t mean to say that. She got caught up in the moment. He needed a drink. He needed to tell her he’d been drinking. He’d had a few after the show to ease his nerves about their date. His fists clenched because he had so much to say, and for some reason he couldn’t say shit. Tell her everything. If she still wants to be with you after that, tell her you love her back.

  “You ready for this?” Kylie asked as she turned the key in the ignition. Her sweet smile looked forced. He knew she was trying to pretend her declaration of love hadn’t even happened.

  Trace made himself grin back. When their gazes met, his mind went haywire. And then blank. The ride. She means the ride. But something in the way she was looking at him said she meant a whole lot more. And he didn’t know the answer to that.

  “Yeah.” He leaned in for one more kiss, hoping it would ease the sting of the words he hadn’t said. “Yeah, I’m ready.” But he kind of wasn’t. Not really.

  THEY WERE about fifteen minutes outside of Macon when Trace plugged his iPod into the dock he’d installed. He scrolled to the song he liked the most so he could get Kylie’s opinion on it. And because he desperately needed to do something about the impenetrable, suffocating silence that had filled the cab since they’d left Atlanta.

  “Tell me what you think of this one,” he said as he clicked play. She’d been quiet the entire drive. He didn’t like it. He hoped music would ease the tension. The song was called If This is Goodbye and had been written by some unknown. Noel Davies had included it in the list of ones he wanted Trace to record and it was the only one he liked. He was surprised at how much he wanted Kylie to like it too.

  A woman’s voice filled the cab of the truck. If this is goodbye, I’m gonna say what’s on my mind. If this is goodbye, I wanna look you in the eye.

  Kylie took her eyes off the road briefly to glance at him. Her expression told him she was into it already.

  Everybody’s got a side of them that no one else can see, but the first time you looked in my eyes, I knew you saw that part of me. So if this is goodbye, if this is goodbye, I’m gonna say what’s on my mind.

  You may not love me the way I need you to. But as long as my heart beats, I’ll still be in love with you.

  So if this is goodbye, if this goodbye, I wanna kiss you one last time. ‘Cause I know I’ll run and hide. When I see you out, when I see you with her, when I see you walkin’ down the street. I’m gonna pretend I don’t notice. I’m gonna pretend it’s not killin’ me.

  I don’t want to walk away. I don’t want to let you go. But you made that choice for us and it’s too hard to hold on.

  So if this is goodbye, if this is goodbye, I’m gonna say what’s on my mind. If this is goodbye, I wanna kiss you one last time.

  He turned the speakers down as the male voice began singing his part. “Well, what do you think?”

  “It’s a duet.”

  “Yeah?” Not exactly the answer he was expecting.

  “It’s nice. I like it. Kind of sad, but pretty. Soulful. Be a good chance for you to switch it up from the drunken party anthems.”

  Trace shifted, lowering his arm from where it’d been resting on the back of the bench seat. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He sang more than just party anthems, dammit.

  Kylie laughed at him. “Actually it sounds a bit more like something Bryce Parker would sing. It’s just not your usual—”

  “You gotta be kidding me.” He rubbed his hands roughly over his knees. Jesus, this woman knew how to press his buttons.

  “Trace, I wasn’t tryin’ to upset you. Just doesn’t sound like something you’d choose, that’s all.” She glanced over at him. He knew he wore his hurt on his face. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Forget it.” Now they were even. Both hurting because they didn’t get the reaction they’d been expecting.

  “Excuse me?” She turned and looked at him with her forehead all scrunched.

  “Never mind. I like it. Thought you might be interested in recording it together. Obviously you’re not.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. But for some reason this hurt a lot more than it should. Probably not as much as not hearing ‘I love you’ when you’re expecting it, asshole.

  “Trace! Don’t be a baby. I would love to—”

  “Turn left at the next road,” was all he said. He switched the iPod off and checked his cell phone. He had four missed calls from Gretchen and one from Pauly. Great. This night was going straight down the shitter.

  “I know how to get there,” Kylie said quietly.

  He nodded. He wasn’t trying to be a dick. Not really. It was dark and the back roads weren’t exactly
well lit. But his pride was wounded and he knew there was some shit going down somewhere because Gretchen was calling him again. He cursed himself for ever giving that woman his number.

  “Pauly?” Kylie asked, nodding at his cell phone buzzing in his hand.

  Well this wasn’t going to go over well. He cleared his throat. “Gretchen.”

  He could tell by the way her posture stiffened that this bothered her. But her voice was even when she spoke. “That her calling now?”

  “It is,” he answered honestly.

  “Answer it. Might be important.”

  He sighed. Looking down at the screen, he saw that the call had gone to voicemail. Whatever. Gretchen could figure out her own shit. He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could start the whole night over again. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know why that song is such a big deal. It’s not. I just heard it and thought maybe we could talk about recording it. But you’re right. It’s not exactly my sound. But then neither is The Other Side of Me and that one’s going to be huge, right?”

  Kylie smiled tentatively at him as she turned into the driveway. “I like the song, Trace. I didn’t mean to make you upset. It’s just not the direction you’ve been going the past few years. I mean, you recorded Goodbye in Your Eyes like two years ago and that’s the last time I’ve heard you singing a ballad like that. I guess Not That Kinda’ Man sort of fits in with that though, so yeah. This could be an amazing song if you really want to do it.”

  It made him feel good that she followed his career. He smiled and leaned over to kiss her as she turned the truck off. “It’s okay. I appreciate you being honest with—”

  Before he could finish, his phone buzzed angrily in his hand. He glanced down at the same time Kylie did.

  “Just answer it.”

  He hit accept on the screen. “Gretchen, what the hell are you—”

  “You were right. I need help, Trace.”

  Jesus. She was a sobbing mess.

  “I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know what to do. I’m at the hotel and I tried calling him and he won’t talk to me and I’ve ruined everything.” Her words ran together, and Trace had no idea who “he” was, but she sounded awful. Weak. Very unlike Gretchen.