Song for a Cowboy Page 20

  “About my career? Or Emmy Lou?” He grinned.

  “Both.” Aunt Mo nodded, clicking enough to get John Wayne headed down the hill. “I still think starting fresh is best. I’ve mentioned that before? It’s past time for you and Emmy Lou to clear the air between you. Once you know what you want, there’s no point waiting on going after it.”

  It might not be as easy as she made it sound, but she had a point. Connie, too. He knew, deep down, it was fear that held him back. Of CiCi being right. Of having Emmy Lou reject him. Or loving her even now… He’d always faced fear head-on—no point stopping now.

  A gentle knee to the side had Granite following Mo and John Wayne down the hill. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a genius, Aunt Mo?”

  “All the time, but you might as well go on and say it, too. I never get tired of hearing it.”

  Brock was still laughing when they reached the tank.

  Chapter 14

  “Good morning, Charlotte, North Carolina. Thanks for tuning in to station WTQR, Today’s Country.” The DJ, Banjo Bryan, adjusted his headset. “If you’re just joining us, we’re talking to country royalty. The Three Kings and Jace Black are here, promoting their record-breaking tour—‘Three Kings and a Jace’. Looks like we’ve got time for one, maybe two more questions.”

  “Wow, time flew by.” Emmy Lou nudged Travis. He’d been bleary-eyed and slouched in his chair most of the interview, his to-go coffee cup cradled against his chest.

  Banjo took a card from a tech. “How does it feel to be breaking more records?”

  “Good.” Travis took a long sip of his coffee.

  “Good?” Krystal laughed. “Amazing. Fantastic. Ignore Travis, Banjo, he’s not much of a morning person. Drink your coffee, Travis.”

  Travis held up his hand, but Emmy Lou grabbed it before he could flip off their sister. She kept holding his hand as she said, “It’s incredibly humbling. Our fans’ devotion never fails to surprise me.” It was true. Tomorrow would be their eighth performance, but their opening night energy hadn’t waned—mostly because of the outpouring of love and enthusiasm from their fans.

  “What about you, Jace?” Banjo asked. “Is your second tour with the Three Kings as enjoyable as the first?”

  “I think so.” Jace paused, his gaze fixed on Krystal. “For me, it gets better every day.”

  Krystal smiled and leaned into him.

  “We’re almost out of time, so let’s see who we’ve got on the line.” Banjo pressed a blue button and held his headset closer to one ear. “Good morning, you’re on WTQR with the Three Kings and Jace Black. What’s your name and your question?”

  “Hi, Banjo. This is Taylor.” The voice was high-pitched and fast-talking. “I am such a huge fan. Huge. I can’t wait for the concert tomorrow.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Emmy gushed. “We’re excited to be singing for you all.”

  “Hi, Taylor,” Jace and Krystal said it in unison, earning a groan from Travis.

  Banjo laughed. “What’s your question, Taylor?”

  “Emmy, since you’ve got a concert tomorrow and the Roughnecks are playing the day after, will you and Brock get to see each other while you’re in North Carolina? Love Bremmy.”

  Emmy ignored her brother’s eye roll and tried a noncommittal response. “That’s sweet, Taylor.”

  “I guess your schedules make it hard to get together. But him flying to see your last show so you could be together… It almost made me cry,” Taylor gushed. “All the pictures of you two together make me and my friends super happy. I hope you get to see him.”

  “But we will definitely see you tomorrow night,” Emmy said. “I can’t wait.”

  “With that, we’ll wrap things up.” Banjo smiled. “It’s been a fun morning. I know it meant a lot to everyone listening. And to us here at WTQR. Until next time…” He held up his finger until the red LIVE light went dark. “And we’re out.” He stood, offering his hand. “Thank you all. Looking forward to the show.”

  Five minutes later, they were out front, signing autographs and taking selfies on their way to the waiting vehicle. Sawyer and one other member of their security detail, Jerome, waited, holding open the car door and scanning the crowd for trouble.

  “What’s with the Secret Service wannabe look?” Travis asked when they were pulling away from the curb. “The sunglasses give off a retro Top Gun vibe. Was that the goal?” Travis laughed.

  Jerome and Sawyer weren’t laughing.

  “Would you behave?” Emmy sighed, ignoring her phone’s pinging from the confines of her purse.

  “Have you ever thought about throwing that thing out the window? Or running over it?” Travis frowned at her. “Or turning it off? I’m happy to help if it will make it shut the hell up.”

  “I’ll do it.” Krystal dug Emmy’s phone from her purse, stared at the screen, then smiled. “When was the last time you checked your messages?”

  Emmy Lou shook her head. For the last two days, Melanie had been handling all of her social media. “A while. I need…a break.” So far, the only break she was getting was from Momma. Some big snag in the bathroom renovations had her flying back to Austin in a fit of temper. “Melanie will let me know if something is really important… Why? Please tell me it’s not something bad.”

  Krystal held out the phone.

  Brock. A video message from Brock.

  “You’re not going to play it?” Krystal asked, all gentle sympathy.

  But Travis grabbed it, hit play, and held the phone out of Emmy’s reach.

  “Em, it’s me. I guess you can tell. Right. Practicing here all day and I thought… We should talk.” He stared at the phone, frowned, and the video ended.

  “Do you know where they’re playing, Sawyer? Is it far away?” Krystal asked, studying her face. “It’s not like you need another rehearsal.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Sawyer,” Emmy called out. Krystal might be ready and willing to talk to Brock, but she wasn’t. “I can’t. Just let it go, please.”

  They were quiet for two blocks. For those two blocks, Emmy’s gaze kept bouncing from the window to her phone screen and Brock’s frozen image.

  “Well, if you’re going to stick your head in the sand and deprive yourself of a chance at happiness, let’s get drunk.” Travis nodded, hugging her against him. “I’ve never seen you drunk and I’m thinking it’ll be hilarious. Who’s with me?”

  “Was that an attempt at reverse psychology?” Krystal cocked her head to one side. “Or an attempt to get us day drinking?”

  “Either works.” Travis peered out the window. “Or we can go back to the hotel, unpack, and Emmy can keep staring at Brock on her phone because that’s not at all pathetic.”

  Emmy didn’t argue. This—she—was pathetic. But she still scowled at Travis.

  “I figured you’d want to talk to him?” Krystal said, then shook her head. “You know what? This is all you. See him or not, just do what you want to do. Not me or Travis or Momma. You. Okay?”

  Emmy nodded, turned her phone over on her knee—then shoved it into her purse. She knew what she wanted, but it wasn’t just up to her… She was scared, plain and simple. Talking to him meant learning the truth. Was Brock manipulating her? Or was it Momma? Not knowing kept her in limbo, but it also prevented her from the pain either option carried with it.

  I am so pathetic. Self-loathing burned the back of her throat. She’d rather not know the truth—that way she didn’t have to accept that someone she cared about wasn’t a good person. Enough is enough. Momma was wrong—she was strong enough. It was time to stop giving everyone else power over her. Right here, right now. “Let’s go to the stadium.”

  “Good for you, Em. You should talk to him.” Travis looked at her, his smile growing as he nudged her in the side. “Who knows? Might even wind up losing the nun’s habit—”

&
nbsp; “Are you really going to start that? Now? I am going to talk to him.” She stared at her brother. “I have never said anything about having sex with Brock.” Her thoughts and fantasies were for her alone. “You keep bringing it up. Over and over. You won’t shut up about sex.”

  “She has a point,” Sawyer said, his gaze meeting hers in the rearview mirror.

  “Even if I was going to have sex with Brock, that would be my choice and none of your business.” For the first time in her adult life, Travis was speechless.

  The rest of the drive was relatively quiet. Krystal and Jace had a FaceTime call with his sister, Heather, while Travis sat, arms crossed, pouting like a little boy. When they pulled up in front of the stadium doors, Emmy climbed out, Krystal following.

  “Hold on.” Krystal opened the rear door of the Suburban and dug through her overnight bag. “I’m not judging.” She slammed the Suburban doors shut and shoved a box of condoms into Emmy’s purse. “Or condoning. I’m keeping you safe.”

  “Why does everyone keep thinking I’m about to have some… some sex party?” Emmy stared into her purse at the unopened box.

  Krystal laughed. “How am I supposed to know if you were just putting Trav in his place or not? If you do decide to have a sex party, you’re covered.” Krystal shook her head and hugged her. “Text me later. He doesn’t deserve you.” She climbed back into the Suburban—but they didn’t drive off until Emmy Lou was inside.

  Emmy dodged a few stadium workers, headed up into the stands, and sat down. Practice was underway. Fine, she’d wait. But the words of her ebook didn’t hold her interest. After a few minutes on her word game app, she closed it. She was distracted. Brock was…distracting. Running down the field—all rippling muscles and strength. No matter how many drills he ran, he moved with explosive speed and force. He had, without a doubt, the most amazing body she’d ever seen. Which reminded her… I have a box of condoms. She glanced around, hugging her purse closer.

  When the whistle blew and the team went on break, he grabbed a towel from one of the trainers, glanced her way, and headed toward the tunnel below her seat. He’d known she was there… According to Travis, and Krystal and Jace, Brock was always aware of her.

  There were times he’d look at her and the pull between them seemed to blot out everything else. But…was that real? Or was she only seeing what she wanted? She’d know soon enough. That’s why she was up, heading out of the stands to meet him. By the time she’d made it to the tunnel leading onto the field, her nerves were stretched taut.

  She’d barely entered the tunnel when she saw Brock. He was walking toward her, rubbing the towel over his face, sweaty and big and gorgeous. He wasn’t smiling, just staring—at her. Almost wary. Then again, she wasn’t smiling at him, either. She was staring.

  The closer they got, the harder it was to ignore the very current drawing her in. When they were steps apart, she said, “I got your message.”

  “Didn’t know if you’d come or not.” His blue eyes were searching hers.

  “I didn’t, either.” She blew out a slow breath, trying to calm the tremor in her voice. “What did you want to talk about?”

  He ran the towel along the back of his neck, swallowed, and said, “You and me.”

  “You and me, real life?” It was hard to add, “Or you and me, Bremmy?”

  “Em…” His jaw tightened as his gaze met hers. “You know better.”

  “Do I?” Her words came pouring out. “Or am I so caught up in wanting you that I can’t see the truth?”

  His eyes were blazing now. “We’ll get to the wanting part in a minute.” His voice was low and gruff. “I wanted you to hear this from me.” He closed the distance between them, his breath unsteady. “If all this media shit disappeared, it wouldn’t change what I’m after.”

  “And what you’re after is?” she whispered.

  “This, right here. A fresh start…” He cleared his throat. “With you. If that’s okay with you?”

  A fresh start? The two of them. Her heart was beating so hard and fast, he had to hear it. When he held out his hand to her, there was no holding back. She was wrapping her arms around his waist and holding on tight. Eyes closed, she pressed her ear to his chest. His heart was racing—just as wild and thundering as hers. “It’s okay with me.”

  * * *

  Somehow, even with Emmy Lou in the stands, he managed to focus through the next two hours of practice. It wasn’t about proving himself to Emmy or showing off for Ricky Ames. It was about reassuring his team that he’d never stop fighting for them—even when he had the most beautiful girl in the world waiting in the stands.

  But when the whistle blew, he was the first one off the field. Not that his team was going to make things easy on him. From jamming his locker to sending him to Coach McCoy’s office—McCoy hadn’t asked to see him—to hiding his phone to stealing his towel when he was in the shower. He took it in stride.

  By the time he was clean and dressed—albeit missing his socks—he was nervous.

  “You’ve got practice tomorrow,” RJ reminded him.

  Brock brushed aside the onslaught of jokes that followed, shouldered his duffel bag, and headed out of the locker room.

  Emmy Lou was standing outside, talking to McCoy.

  “I appreciate that,” McCoy was saying. “She gets nervous. I know I’m her father, that maybe I don’t count, but I think she’s a good singer.”

  “I know she’s not taking new clients but tell her I sent you.” Emmy wrote something on a piece of paper. “Maybe I’ll get to hear her sing one day.” But then she saw Brock. That smile of hers damn near knocked him to his knees.

  McCoy read the paper. “I appreciate it.” Then coach was looking back and forth between them. “You coming?” He shook his head. “It’s rude to keep a lady waiting.”

  Brock nodded, taking Emmy’s hand once it was in reach.

  “See you tomorrow.” McCoy scowled up at him. “Early.”

  Brock nodded.

  McCoy walked off, tucking the paper into his pocket.

  “Good practice?” she asked, tugging on his hand.

  “I’d say so.” He stared down at her, his chest heavy and his heart full. “You have something you need to do? Rehearsal?” She’d sat through practice; he’d do the same.

  “Nope.” Her voice was soft. “I’m all yours.”

  He squeezed her hand and headed to the parking lot. The closer they got to his truck, the tighter her hand became. When he held the truck door open, she stood there, looking at him, then his truck. She bounced up on the balls of her feet and tilted her head back for a kiss.

  He kissed her—barely.

  She made that adorable sound of want and frustration that set the hair on the back of his neck straight up.

  “I’d like to get out of the parking lot.” He smiled. Preferably far enough removed from the rest of the world that nothing and no one would interfere.

  She took his hand and climbed up into the cab of his truck.

  “Where are we going?” she asked when they’d pulled onto the highway.

  “Wherever you want.” He glanced her way.

  She turned to look at him, her eyes zeroing in on his mouth. “I have an idea.” Her bright-green gaze met his. “I was thinking we could go to your hotel room and finish what we started. We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?” She nibbled her lip—damn but he wanted to nibble it, too. “Unless you’re too tired?”

  “If you’re asking, I’m not too tired.” He reached across the seat and took her hand into his. After all this time, the last thing he’d expected to feel was nervous. But he did. By the time he handed off his keys to the hotel valet, he was having second thoughts.

  Emmy was all shy smiles and flushed cheeks as they made their way to the elevator, her purse held close. When the elevator doors to his floor op
ened, she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall.

  Once they were in his hotel suite and the door was shut, Emmy Lou’s smile wavered.

  “Em, what’s this about?” he asked, running his fingers along her cheek. “There’s no rush here—”

  “Maybe not for you.” She cleared her throat, staring up at him. “You have no idea.” Her eyes were green fire.

  “You could tell me?” He wanted her. Hell, he’d always wanted her.

  “I’d rather show you.” She turned and headed across the living room area, past the wet bar, into his room.

  Her words blotted out all his second thoughts and reservations. He dropped his duffel bag on the floor and his keys on the counter and followed, on fire for her. He hadn’t expected her to be so direct—but it was a hell of a turn-on.

  Emmy Lou was standing next to his bed, staring around her, unbuttoning her pink-and-white polka-dot shirt with a bow at the neck. “Should I tackle you again?” She was breathing hard, shaking with the force of it.

  “Whatever you want, Emmy Lou.” Always.

  She reached up, tugging the band from her hair. “You like—liked—my hair down.”

  He nodded, the tightness in his chest rivaling the throb of hunger in his blood. She had no idea how beautiful she was to him. Or how many times he’d imagined this. No span of time had eased the ache he had for this woman.

  Her fingers were fumbling with the buttons of her blouse, but her eyes never left his. “I’m not doing a very good job at this.”

  He was having a hell of a hard time breathing. “What?”

  “Seducing you.” She glanced down at her button and tugged it free. The button popped off and rolled across the floor. “There should be candles and a bubble bath and strawberries. Aren’t there always strawberries?”

  He frowned. “In movies, I guess.”

  “Oh.” She untied the bow at her collar. “Movies. So I guess you don’t want to sit in a chair and watch? And I don’t need to do some sexy dance?”

  The more she talked, the more confused he was getting. Not that he wasn’t enjoying the view. “Is that what you want?”