Page 20 of Country Music Cowboy
She waited, arms crossed, staring him down. Now he’d reveal his true colors, she could go back to hating him, and there be no loose ends.
But the minute she crossed her arms, his gaze shifted. To her dress. More specifically, her chest. With her arms crossed and the roll of tape securing her chest, she’d just presented him with an alarming amount of cleavage.
If he clenched his jaw any tighter, he might break a tooth.
She wanted to be angry—offended even. Instead, she felt empowered.
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to clear something up.” He sounded angry.
She uncrossed her arms. This should be interesting.“Go ahead.” She was curious in spite of herself.
His gaze locked with hers. Travis Kingwasangry. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but I’ve been sober for eleven months and twenty-eight days.” He broke off, stepping closer. “It’s hard work. Work I take seriously. In this industry?Youhave no idea. I guess that’s why I’m wondering what gives you the right to say otherwise?”
His declaration of sobriety had been a surprise. So had the very specific lie about the length of his sobriety.What is he hoping to gain?“I saw you.” She lowered her voice, wondering why he’d choose to have this conversation here. “In the recording studio. Not just drinking but taking pills too.”
“That’swhat you saw?” He ran his fingers through his hair and those blue-green eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His smile was tight.
“No? Isawyou.” She was beyond infuriated at this point. “You’re denying it?” She’d expected him to lie about it—all of it. Why, then, was she so upset? Travis King was everything she’d expected. Charming, entitled, talented, deceitful, and more handsome than any man should be. It didn’t make sense for her to be so…so disappointed.
***
Travis was at a loss. Pissed off, turned on, and generally frustrated. One minute she was holding onto him like her life depended on it, the next she was spitting fire and braced to fight—like now.
“You want me to deny what youthinkyou saw? To explain myself to you?” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Someone who doesn’t like me, doesn’t know me, but is all too willing to accept the worst?” He shook his head. “Why the hell would I do that?”Why the hell am I standing here, arguing with her?His gaze swept over her face. Those topaz eyes were blazing—at him. But that’s not what derailed him. It was her mouth. Full, red lips. Lips parted just enough to make him forget whatever else he’d planned to say.
Not that she’d offered up anything else. Instead, she kept staring at him—flushed and breathing hard and so damn beautiful he ached to touch her. To pull her close and taste that mouth…
Two sound techs hurried past them pushing a cart full of rattling cords and equipment.
What the fuck?This wasn’t why he’d come after her.Where the fuck didthiseven come from?It had been a hell of a long time since he’d thought about sex, but here he was—in the middle of a goddamn public hallway—very definitely thinking about it. Notjustsex. He was craving her. Loretta.The very woman hell-bent and determined to make him into a lying asshole.
He tore his gaze from hers, needing to think—needing to breathe. “You’d made up your mind about me long before you walked into the studio that day. You don’t know me well enough to dislike me as much as you do. I get that your pissed off, but I didn’t do a thing to you so save all the hostility for someone else.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m not interested.”Which is a damn lie.He was interested in Loretta Gram. Which made him a damn fool. He turned on his heel, heading to the dressing room.
His father was up for Best Country Album of the Year and his mother was bound and determined to keep the King family drama front and center in the tabloids, so Travis needed to get his shit together. Since his father was presenting an award, Travis hoped to catch up with him. He wasn’t looking forward to being the bearer of bad news, but he couldn’t send his father out there blind. His father needed him. So, no more thinking about Loretta, those soulful eyes, that damn dress, or her full red lips—
But Loretta caught up to him before he made it to the dressing room. “Travis?”
“Loretta.” He ground out her name, doing his damndest not to look at her. He’d come in here hoping to clear his head and regroup, not battle temptation. And she was pure temptation. At this point, he wasn’t sure which was worse: the hurt she caused or the want she stirred. “Unless you’re apologizing, we’re done.”
“Give me a reason to.” It was the waver in her voice that got to him.
He froze, meeting her gaze. Something more was going on here. Not that he had the foggiest idea what that might be. What did she want from him? He needed to know. “Why does it matter?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, an impatient sound slipping through her lips. “I…I don’t know.” She glanced his way, then away. “But it does.”
Dammit all. “It’s Neurontin. For anxiety. And it helps with withdrawal too. I can pop up to three of those a day.” He watched her. “The drink? Water.” He ran his fingers through his hair, braced. “Those were the only damn cups not packed up for the move.”
A sort of stare-down ensued. It was like she couldn’t process what he’d said, like she was waiting for him to drop a punch line or brush her off. Her eyes never left his—searching. What got him the most was watching the struggle play out on her face.
“That’s it?” she asked, still wary.
He nodded.
“And tonight? You were… Well, you were there. For me.” The disbelief in her voice was a gut-punch.
His phone vibrated again. “The same way you were there for my father.” He frowned. “What is it you think I’m after?”
She shook her head, then swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
