Country Music Cowboy Page 19

  “Excuse me.” Loretta set her plate on the counter, turned, and walked from the kitchen.

  Travis hesitated. There was nothing he wanted more than to be there for her. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. Her father had only come up once, and once had been enough. They weren’t close. So this? It felt…contrived. A way to reach Loretta, all right. But to what end?

  “Are you going to go?” Krystal asked. “Because if you won’t, I will.”

  That was when Travis realized they were all staring at him… And that he’d been staring at the door.

  “Son.” His father’s concern was plain on his face.

  Travis was up and out of the kitchen before he’d thought through what to say. By the time he was standing outside her door, he wasn’t sure this was the best choice. She was determined to keep distance between them. Not physically. But emotionally? There was no room for emotions between them—she’d said as much.

  “Loretta?” He paused just long enough to say her name again, then opened her bedroom door. “Loretta?” There was no sign of her in the bedroom. He glanced into the bathroom. Empty. But he heard her then, her voice muffled, and paused.

  “How much does he want?” There was a pause. “I don’t know why he’s doing this.”

  Travis turned and frowned. She was in the closet? On the telephone?

  “I know. I know. I appreciate it but this is what he does.”

  Should he leave? Wait? Knock on the closet door?

  “I blocked his number. He swore that was it… I know better.” There was a slight thump. “I have to pay him. True or not, he’ll say what he needs to say to get paid.”

  Travis couldn’t move. He was rooted in place. His blood throbbing in his ears.

  “This is why I should never have stayed here, Margot. All of this… I know better.”

  He was eavesdropping now—something he wasn’t comfortable with. He knocked, loud enough that there was no missing it. “Loretta?” he added, his voice gruff.

  There was a brief pause. “Just a minute.” Another pause. “I’ll call you back.” And the closet door slowly opened. Loretta was sitting on the floor, pale and wide-eyed and holding her phone in a white-knuckled grip.

  Travis dropped down, sitting beside her with his back against the wall. Now wasn’t the time to ask the growing list of questions he had for her. She’d likely tell him it wasn’t his business anyway. But he hadn’t come here to irritate her; he’d come her to offer her comfort. Sitting here beside her, in silence, was the only option.

  “My father is an alcoholic. He’s gone to rehab, but it was only when he was hungry and we were too broke to put food on the table.” She didn’t look at him. “He’s a gambler. Mostly with my money now, since he’s never had much.” Her sigh was bone-weary. “But he knows I’ll pay it because he’ll say whatever he needs to for the money he wants.”

  Her words cut deep. “Loretta—”

  “I’m only telling you this in case he’s already done something stupid.” She shook her head. “I won’t let him drag your family through the dirt for profit, I give you my word.”

  “What can I do?” he asked, meaning it.

  She shook her head.

  They sat there for a while. Travis didn’t want to push, but he couldn’t leave. This wasn’t about how strong or capable she was. She was both, he knew that. This was about letting her know she did have someone on her side. Whether she wanted him there or not.

  “I’ve been thinking about your song,” Loretta said, surprising him. “The knight song?”

  He nodded and turned. “Emmy Lou’s song?”

  “What if you do the first verse all acoustic only?” she asked. “Then, when the chorus starts, I see strings. Violin, viola, cello, all of it. Go all in with it. Don’t laugh but, a harp, even.”

  “Why would I laugh?” He smiled. “I’m always looking for a new instrument to play.”

  “I didn’t mean you’d play it.” Her surprise was evident, but there was a slight smile on her lips.

  “You’re going to play?” He nodded. “I like it. I can see you playing the harp like a boss.”

  She laughed then. “Play the harp like a boss? Did you really say that?”

  “How else would you play it?” He shrugged. “I think a harp is a good idea. Anything else?”

  Her topaz gaze searched his. “I do have an idea for the other song. The dancing song.”

  After a while, it didn’t seem off to be sitting on the floor of her closet. She was caught up in the music and he was caught up in her. That spark she had, the excitement and anticipation of what they were working toward. It wasn’t where they were, it was what they were doing. Music was the thing that healed her—that soothed the stress and worry and pain from her heart. It was about creating something beautiful out of the dark. Finding strength in the notes and lyrics that would rise above the noise and chaos of everyday life. Together, they were building a safe harbor to shelter through the storm. And, damn, but he wanted nothing more than to stay right here and be that shelter—if she’d let him.

  Chapter 12

  Loretta waved, her arm hooked through Travis’s, as they made their way from the side of the stage.

  “Welcome, welcome.” Late night talk show host, Guy James, met them halfway. He gave her a quick hug, kissed her cheek, shook hands with Travis, and led them to the loveseat opposite Guy James’ massive desk. “I am so pleased to have the two of you join me,” Guy said once they were all seated.

  “Thank you for having us.” She smiled.

  “It’s good to be back.” Travis nodded.

  “My sincere pleasure to have you both.” Guy held a stack of pale blue notecards in his hand. “Before we start with these, I’d like to mention that you’re both looking well.” He nodded as the audience gave an appropriately enthusiastic applause. “It would seem my audience agrees with me.”

  Loretta smiled, smoothing her peacock-colored skirt—a color she’d be wearing a lot of thanks to the tour’s costumer—over her thighs and sat back.

  “Travis.” Guy tapped his cards on his desk. “You’ve been pumping iron, haven’t you?” He paused. “Don’t deny it. We have this.” He pointed at the screen.

  It was the first time Loretta had seen a picture of pre-rehab Travis next to post-rehab Travis. The change was incredible.

  “You could give Arnold Schwarzenegger a run for his money, I think.” Guy shook his head. “Are you working out with your sister’s new husband? Mr. Football Star, Brock Watson?”

  “I’m flattered but Brock probably wouldn’t be.” Travis chuckled. “I’d never survive working out with him. But my head of security has been kind enough to whip me into shape. As you can see, there was a lot of work to be done.”

  Loretta was still processing the change in Travis. It wasn’t just the muscles, it was the skin tone and the eyes and the hair. All of him. He’d been handsome before. But now? Handsome didn’t cut it.

  “What do you think, Miss Gram?” Guy asked.

  “Travis King doesn’t need any help in the ego department so I’ll say, no comment.” She smiled.

  Guy nodded. “How is this working?” He pointed between the two of them with his cards. “New partners, different dynamics. Have the two of you found your rhythm, shall we say?” He bobbed his eyebrows playfully.

  She wasn’t sure what to say so she looked at Travis—who was looking at her, looking equally flummoxed.

  “We are on the same page, musically,” she said. “Wouldn’t you say?”

  Travis nodded.

  “After your incredible performance at the International Music Awards, it came as no surprise that the two of you would be paired up.” Guy waited for the applause to die down before continuing. “Loretta, please accept my deepest sympathies about Johnny. You’ve come on the show a handful of times together and I remember
the laughs he brought with him.”

  Loretta nodded. “Johnny loved to make people laugh.”

  “Such a shock to lose someone at such a young age,” Guy said, letting the silence linger.

  “Yes.” She agreed. What else could she say? I can confirm that he did not commit suicide? I can confirm that he committed suicide? If he was looking for answers, she was sorry to disappoint him. Every day, she wondered the same thing. In time, she hoped she’d come to accept not knowing. “I miss him. I miss his laughter.”

  “Of course.” Guy nodded. If he was disappointed, he hid it well. “And you, Travis. I’d like to think the muscles and the tan mean you’re taking care of yourself?”

  “I’ve been sober for thirteen months, give or take a few days.” Travis grinned. “I sort of figured that’s what you were asking when you said taking care of myself.”

  “Yes.” Guy smiled. “I wonder if you’d like to share what happened that night? What happened that made you realize things needed to change?”

  Loretta stiffened. Was this an ambush? Or had Travis known this was coming?

  “You might have heard I had a little bit of a drinking problem?” Travis smiled, his charm working overtime. “And, when I was drinking, I had a bit of a temper problem?”

  There was general laughter from the audience.

  Loretta forced herself to keep smiling.

  “I was at a rodeo and this fellow and I had a…disagreement. I won’t go into details because I’m moving on but I made a choice that changed everything.” He shrugged. “I was drunk, which was my choice. The rest? I don’t know. I left, but I saw the guy’s truck and all I could think about was wanting him to understand he was wrong. I got a tire iron from my truck and did some serious damage to his truck. I still don’t regret that part. What I regret…” He swallowed, emotion catching him off guard. “I didn’t know the kids were filming me. I didn’t know until the one fell on the ground behind me and I turned on him.” He shook his head. “I didn’t hit him. I didn’t even think about hitting him. It was his face. This kid who’d been filming me acting like an ass—something I would have done at his age—only to get the sh-stuff scared out of him.” He shook his head. “I can be a jerk. I can fight, but I’d never strike out at a kid. Or a woman.” He shrugged. “That was it. The next morning it was everywhere. Video. Still shots. The kid, and his friends, phone videos… But the only thing I saw was that kid’s face.” He shrugged. “I checked in to rehab that day.”

  “Well done.” Guy led the audience in a round of applause that ended with everyone on their feet.

  Loretta too.

  “We have a video.” Guy said, once they’d all returned to their seat. “This is from a woman who was there that night. I’d like to play it now.”

  Loretta felt Travis stiffen at her side. She resisted the urge to take his hand and hoped that whatever was about to happen wasn’t some gimmicky stunt that could ding Travis’s steadfast determination.

  “Hi, Travis.” A woman appeared. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I wanted to say how sorry I am about that night.” The woman was crying. “We were married then, you see. I was too scared to speak up, too scared of him. It wasn’t the first time he’d hit me, but it was the first time anyone had ever stepped in to stop him.”

  Loretta was staring at Travis then.

  “He did love that truck more than he loved me.” The woman was still talking. “He never cried over hitting me the way he cried when he saw what you’d done to his truck. For all the heartache this caused you, I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re sober and I hope you’ll stay that way. I’d like to think he’d never do the things he did if he wasn’t always drinking. Not that he’s my problem now since we’ve been divorced a few months now.” She waved. “You give your best to your family.”

  Loretta wasn’t sure how to feel. He’d been drunk and lost his cool and made some seriously unacceptable choices… But it hadn’t been because he was a horrible person. Drunk, yes. Clouded judgment, definitely. But not such a dick move after all. She’d have likely taken a tire iron to the man’s truck sober.

  “Did you recognize her?” Guy asked.

  “I do.” Travis nodded, but he didn’t say anything more.

  “I hear the two of you have a song for us tonight?” Guy asked. “Something the two of you will be singing on the tour and the new album you’re putting together for next year?”

  “Yes.” Loretta smiled. “Travis wrote it.”

  “We wrote it together,” Travis argued.

  “You wrote it. I only added—”

  “It’s a joint collaboration,” Travis pushed, smiling at her.

  “There you have it. The first single from the new duo, TrueLove.” Guy smiled, leaning forward to shake their hands.

  Loretta and Travis made their way across the stage to the two stools. Travis picked up his Dreadnaught guitar, slid the straps around his shoulder, and faced her.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  It was the first time they’d performed this song for an audience. A song this hot and sexy was a risky choice but… It was a damn good song.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  His fingers moved quickly, plucking the first notes forward as he sang.

  You’ve got me where you want me.

  I can’t say that I mind…

  Don’t stare at him. Not his eyes or his hair or the way his mouth moved when he said things that made her think of how good it was to be intertwined with him. The ache in the pit of her stomach turned warm as he rounded out the chorus.

  …you’ll want me close and deep.

  Now that she knew this was true, the song felt different. More like a conversation between them. One whispered, in the pale light of morning, before life drew them apart.

  She took a deep breath, her throat tight as she sang.

  You tease me but you touch me…

  She was aching. And, even though now was not the time to be thinking about it, she wanted his hands on her. His blue-green eyes blazed into hers, filled with the promise of a long night ahead. Her voice wobbled as she sang, but she made it through.

  Travis played through the chorus again, his fingers sliding along the strings as his gaze shifted to her mouth. Together, the final lines were loaded with such longing, Loretta struggled to find her voice.

  But you’ll miss me, baby, and I’ll haunt you in your sleep.

  My hands, my mouth, you’ll want me close and deep.

  The only thing keeping Loretta from launching herself at Travis was the roar of the audience. And knowing that, fifteen minutes from now, they’d be alone—heading for what she hoped would be a sleepless night in their hotel.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Guy James called out, clapping. “Loretta Gram and Travis King. Now known as TrueLove.” He fanned himself. “Anyone else needing some ice cold water? Or a cold shower? Is it hot in here?”

  Loretta and Travis bowed and smiled and waved their goodbyes and headed backstage. Sawyer had their ride waiting, so they headed out through the studio side door and climbed into the backseat of the waiting black SUV.

  “Good?” Sawyer asked, climbing into the driver seat.

  Travis nodded, staring out the window.

  Loretta was acutely aware of the way his hand lay, fisted, against his thigh. If she reached for him, would he lose all control? Was he craving her like she was craving him? Was that why he was staying so quiet and avoiding her gaze?

  By the time Sawyer had pulled up to their hotel, Loretta was doubting every look and signal he’d seemed to be giving off.

  Sawyer handed off the keys to the additional security the label had hired for the tour, then led them through the back hallways to a clearance-required elevator.

  Loretta risked a glance at Travis.

  He was waiting. The jolt of connection had her g
ripping the metal railing that ran the inside of the elevator. The crooked smile had her grip tighten.

  Sawyer knew about them but…well, there were some things Sawyer didn’t need to know—or see.

  When they reached the floor the label had rented, Loretta hurried to her room. She’d give him ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. But five minutes later, she was seriously considering throwing caution to the wind and banging on Travis’s hotel room.

  It’s not like she hadn’t spent the last week in his bed. Where had this sudden urgency come from? The song. The song they’d be singing over and over for the next few months. If this was the reaction she had every time they sang it, things were going to get super awkward, super quick.

  Get it together. She grabbed her pajamas and headed into the bathroom for a cold shower.

  But she’d barely set foot under the water when there was a knock at her door. She hurried, grabbing a towel and almost slipping as she skidded across the marble floor, padded across the carpet, and walked down the hall of her suite to the door.

  Travis. “I was about ready to kick the damn door down—”

  She grabbed the front of his shirt, tugged him inside, and pushed the door closed—propelling him back against the solid surface and twining her arms around his neck.

  His lips traveled along her neck. “You’re not wearing any clothes.”

  “You’re wearing too many clothes.” She was already working the button at his waist free.

  “Not for long.” He took her hand and headed back the way she’d come, shedding clothes as he went. By the time they’d reached her bathroom, he’d tossed her towel over his shoulder and was busy nuzzling the swell of her left breast.

  Loretta was breathing hard but determined. With a good tug, his jeans were gone and her hand wrapped around the long, hard proof of his arousal. At the contact, he groaned—arching into her.

  “I want your hands and mouth.” She said against his lips. “I want you close and deep.”

  ***

  Travis rested his hand on the swell of Loretta’s hip, breathing hard against the back of her neck. He liked her ass. He liked her thigh and calf and the spot behind her knee that made her pant… Damn if there wasn’t a part of her he didn’t like. And, by now, he was feeling mighty comfortable with pretty much every inch of her.