Page 19 of Playing With My Heart Strings

“I’m great. Do you want to sit?” I hope she doesn’t see I’m nervous, even as sticky sweat soaks through my shirt. She has this effect on me that I can’t explain.

“I’d love to sit.” She sits, crosses her legs, and gives me an amused look.

“What’s that look for?” Heat rushes to my face. I’m not normally like this. Women are usually the ones falling at my feet, not the other way around.

“You’re just…different than I expected you to be,” she admits, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“How so?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just expected you to be full of yourself. I never expected a country superstar like you to turn beet red at the sight of a pretty woman.” She winks, and I wish this conversation wasn’t going to be broadcasted on television for the world to see. Maybe fans will find it endearing, but I find it slightly humiliating.

I let out a shaky laugh. “I guess I’m just full of surprises, Aspen.”

“I guess so. I can’t wait to see what else you have up your sleeve, Dusty Wilder.” She pauses then calls me out. “So, are you going to ask me any questions or what?”

This woman. She’s going to keep me on my toes this season. “Right. Where are you from, Aspen?”

“I’m originally from Oklahoma, but I moved here to Nashville when I was eighteen. I’ve been here for eight years now.”

Similar to me, then.

“That’s a lot like how I ended up here, too. I grew up in Oklahoma, but came out here after graduating high school in pursuit of a music career. It took me some time, but eventually Ace High Entertainment took a chance on me and signed me.” I can admit I owe Rob Acerra for signing a twenty-year-old kid with a dream.

It’s somewhat emotional to think about what it took to get here. And it’s slightly embarrassing to think about how much I could lose if this reality show stuff doesn’t work out. I’ve worked hard to make a name for myself, and as much as I hate the mainstream box they’re trying to shove me in, this is how I’m able to help support my family. I need to do this for them as much as I need to do it for myself.

But if it were up to me, I’d write the songs I want to sing, ditch the heartthrob character the label has assigned me, and sing real, authentic country music. Not this autotuned, over-produced shit.

“That’s incredible. You should be really proud of yourself. Nashville is lucky to have you. Hopefully, this will lead to prosperous music careers for both of us.”

I dip my chin in acknowledgment. “I hope you find what you’re looking for here in Nashville, Aspen. I’m excited to see more of you.”

The tone that signals our time is up goes off in my earpiece, and I stand, taking off my hat and taking her hand. “It was a pleasure.”

She stands, and I take a moment to kiss her hand in farewell.

“I’ll see you around.”

I watch her disappear into the house, and my eyes linger on the door longer than I’d like to admit. So much so that I don’t even realize the last woman walked out of the house until she’s directly in front of my face.

Her.

8

baylor

America’s Sweetheart

The producers insistedI went last. Unfortunate, considering Aspen, the girl who went right before me, practically has Dusty drooling over her like a lovesick puppy.

I’m standing in front of him when he finally snaps out of her trance. His eyes meet mine, and his brows furrow in confusion.

“What areyoudoing—” Recognition flashes in his eyes, but I cut him off, giving him a sweet smile.

I amnotlosing my job today. “I’m Baylor.”

Suspicion is written all over his face, but he reluctantly introduces himself. “Dusty… I know you. You were at?—”

“I don’t think so,” I interrupt, not letting him finish his sentence on camera. “You must have confused me with someone else.”

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