Page 22 of Country Music Cowboy
Bullshit.He was anything but fine. Travis turned to Loretta, at a loss, his chest growing heavier with each passing second.
She didn’t hesitate this time. Instead, she hugged his father. A fierce sort of hug. And then she slipped from the dressing room.
“Go on,” his father repeated.
Every fucking step was a struggle. Leaving went against his every instinct. He may not have always seen eye-to-eye with his father, but this wasn’t right. When the door clicked shut behind him, there a minute where Travis thought he was going to lose his shit. He shoved his hand in his pocket, but the smooth surface of the guitar pick didn’t do a thing to ease him. He wanted to blow up. He wanted to punch something—to put his fist through a wall.
“Travis.” Loretta stood just to the side of the dressing room door, one hand resting against the wall. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
He shook his head.Nothing.His mother had put him in a no-win situation. What other choice did he have? He’d just broken his father’s heart, and there was nothing anyone could do to fix that. He flexed his hands, helpless and furious all at once. He paced down the hall, swallowing against the jagged lump in his throat. His fingers scraped through his hair, and he stared up at the ceiling overhead.Fucking pointless.
He was clear. He knew how to take care of himself. How to protect himself. It had been a long and bumpy road, but he was in a good place. But the weekly check-ins, all the classes and counseling sessions, and a whole library of recovery and self-help books wouldn’t protect those he loved.
His phone vibrated, but he ignored it.
His father wanted Travis in the audience, so that’s where Travis would be. He turned, the pulse in his temples throbbing, to find Loretta leaning against the wall hugging herself, waiting for him.
“Ready?” he asked, more growl that actual word.
She nodded, her eyes huge and her face pale.
He didn’t pull away when her fingers threaded with his. Or when she tugged him toward her. “Are you?” She reached up, pressing her other hand to his heart.
His gaze was instantly tangled up in hers. His pain and betrayal and sadness were all there in her eyes, reflected back at him. Without a filter. She didn’t shy away. There was comfort in that. He was caught and she was reeling him in, but he didn’t want to fight her.
“This isn’t your fault,” she whispered.
He shut his eyes, wishing he could shut out the pain on his father’s face too. “It sure as hell feels like it.”
“It would have been so much worse if you hadn’t told him.”
Which was true. His father was a proud man. This was hard enough. Staring out over the audience and finding out that way?
Momma would love that. The drama. The reaction. There were times he wanted to shake his mother—to make her understand just how much her actions impacted the rest of the family. It was hard to believe she didn’t know exactly what she was doing; she was too smart. But the alternative, that she knowingly inflicted hurt on the people she proclaimed to be her everything? That was a damn hard pill to swallow.
He drew in a deep breath, cleared all thoughts of his mother from his brain, and focused on what happened next. That was easy. Return to the auditorium and cheer on his father. That’s what needed to happen. That’s what he would do.
The brush of her hair against his nose surprised him. When he’d moved, he wasn’t sure. But Loretta was pressed against the wall, he was pressed against her, and time came to a hard stop.
His reaction was instantaneous—desire all but grabbing him by the throat. She was…everywhere. Her breath was his. Her heartbeat matched his own. And the fire in those topaz eyes knocked the breath out of him. Hunger. Longing. Need. It would be so easy to give in to her, to this.
He leaned forward, then stopped himself. This wasn’t right. Not here. Definitely not now. But her scent had him turning into her, running his nose along her throat. The curve of her ear and the spot just behind it—breathing her in until she filled his lungs.
Her fingers went tight around his hand, a broken gasp spilling from her lips. Those lips.
One kiss. One kiss and he’d stop this. He tore his gaze from her mouth and damn near groaned at the raw hunger on her face. Her eyes flashed as she gripped the front of his tuxedo jacket, pulling him in—impatient.
One kiss wouldn’t be enough. No matter how much he wanted her, he couldn’t do this. He reached up, smoothing the hair from her shoulder. “I want to kiss you.” Her smile almost changed his mind. “But if I kiss you now, you’ll always wonder if this was my angle the whole damn time. And I’ll wonder if this is what you wanted or if I took advantage of you, because tonight… Well, tonight has been one hell of an emotional roller-coaster ride.”
She didn’t say a word.
“Loretta.” He groaned. “I’m trying to take the high road here.” He stepped back but rested his hand against her cheek.
She was having a hard time maintaining eye contact. “You’re right.”
“Just so we are clear, I plan on kissing you, Loretta Gram.” His thumb traced her cheekbone. “At the right time and in the right place.”
Now she couldn’t stop looking at him, those brilliant eyes sweeping over his face a sudden intensity. “We should get to our seats.”
