Girl With Guitar (8 page)

Kylie felt like she’d been staring at Trace forever, but thankfully only a few seconds had passed. She knew she needed to say something, try to make things better—or at least less awkward. But no words came so she busied herself with balancing the laptop on her legs. There definitely needed to be a table in the media room.

After she’d scrolled through her online profile, she Googled herself. All that came up was her new Facebook account, a YouTube video of her and Trace at The Rum Room that she’d already watched with Cora, and something Capital Letter Records had released about her being added to Trace’s tour. She clicked to the videos she and Cora had posted and was shocked to see that they already had several comments. She scrolled through them and tried not to freak out since Trace was still leaning in the doorway, eating an apple.

Guess this is who Corbin is banging now.

Girl can sing, hot little body too!

She’s totally lip-synching! What a wannabe!

Heard she was a waitress. Hello blondie, time to go back to your day job!

I like her! She’s pretty and what an awesome voice! Heard she totally showed Corbin up at a sing off at a bar where she worked or something.

How can you even understand what’s she singing? Sounds like she’s just repeating the chorus over and over. Nice tits though.

And then there was one Kylie couldn’t even process. And not just because of the misspellings. It was posted by someone called CunTreeSux and it was awful. Kylie shuddered and started to slam the computer shut. Trace’s hand shot out and gripped the screen, startling her. She hadn’t even heard him come closer.

She glanced at him quickly, noticing that his eyes were hard as he scanned the comments. His warm breath grazed her neck and the side of her face as he leaned in, setting her body on high alert.

“Don’t Google yourself, ever. I mean it,” he said.

“I just wanted—”

“I’m not saying that the social media stuff isn’t great for your fans—it is. But there are some whack jobs out there and some just plain assholes that get off on slamming someone else. I mean, you see any of them baring their soul in front of several hundred people every night?”

“No,” Kylie said quietly, sitting the computer aside and turning to face the man beside her. “Why do I even have to put this stuff out there if people are just going to write such horrible things about me?”

Trace shrugged and took another bite of his apple, taking the time to chew and swallow before speaking again. “It’s supposed to be for people who like your music, but nine times out of ten the people who comment just want to tear you down. I don’t know why, but who gives a shit? It’s their problem, not yours.”

She knew what he was saying made sense but the comment where someone had said they’d heard her sing and would rather hear baby pigs being tortured still had her cringing inside. And that one comment.
Freaking hell.
It made what Darla had said to her seem like a compliment.

“Look, I know I’m the last person you want advice from, but you have to have a really thick skin for this. Like superhuman thick, because that’s what this is. You put yourself out there the night you got on stage at The Rum Room. And you will be out there from now on unless you decide to walk away from it.” Trace took another bite of his apple and stood. As he turned to leave, Kylie fought the urge to reach out to him for comfort. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and tell her that everyone was crazy and those people were wrong about her.

And if she was being honest? She was relieved that they were back on speaking terms. Even worse, she wanted him to look at her the way he’d looked at Cora. And probably Mia Montgomery. And maybe more than once.

“Trace?” she called out just before he disappeared from sight. He didn’t say anything but he turned around and met her gaze from the doorway. “You’re not the
last
person.”
And
I forgive you.
Kylie smiled to let him know she was grateful for the advice. Trace grinned and nodded just before he disappeared.

T
he
Wild Hog Saloon in Mobile, Alabama, was a barbecue bar and grill joint that reminded Kylie of home. Not only did she and Trace both play to a packed house, but the owners brought them dinner personally and told them to make themselves comfortable long after the show was over.

Pauly had friends in town that he was staying with for the evening. Kylie couldn’t help but feel nervous about sleeping on the bus with Trace all alone all night. Somehow with Pauly there it had seemed like there was a chaperone. Or at least one responsible adult to keep things from getting out of hand.

She joked around with the male bartender as she ate her mouthwatering pulled pork barbecue sandwich and drank sweet tea that tasted like nectar from the gods. She tried not to notice that Trace was a few seats down with a bottle blonde she didn’t have a clear view of. Determined not to give a shit, she focused her attention on the guys in Trace’s band instead. They hadn’t paid much attention to her when she first joined the tour. Kylie figured they didn’t expect her to be around long, so she didn’t take it personally. But lately they’d all been a lot warmer.

Davis Lowe, Trace’s guitar player, busted out a very professional looking poker set at one of the round tables near the bar. Mike Brennen, the bass player who Kylie suspected was a recovering alcoholic since he always got club soda with a lime wedge, groaned at the sight of it. “Dude, you gonna make me kick your ass again? You were such a bitch about it last time.”

All of them glanced in Kylie’s direction as soon as Mike let the b-word slip.

“My bad, Ryans,” Mike muttered. His messy blond hair was almost covering his eyes, but Kylie could tell there was a genuine apology in there somewhere.

She rolled hers and shrugged.

The guys carried on with their trash talk while Kylie finished her food. When she was done, she slipped off her stool and pulled up a chair in between Ken Lackey, the drummer, and Danny Brees, the older man who played the fiddle and had witnessed the incident in Jackson. Not because she preferred them to any of the others, but because she could still see Trace from there. She didn’t even realize what she’d done until after she sat, and she kind of wanted to bitch slap herself for it.

“Uh oh, little girl at the big boy table,” the heavily tattooed drummer teased.

“Maybe one of you big strong boys could teach me how to play,” Kylie drawled. She was flirting a little, but she’d watched them play a few times before. She was pretty sure she could kick each and every one of their asses at Hold ‘Em. She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

“If you sit on my lap, I’ll let you look at my cards,” Mike offered.
So he’s the flirty one then
. Kylie liked to assess her opponents’ personalities so she could tell when they were bluffing, when they were getting twitchy, and when they were getting cocky.

“Stay right here, sweetheart. You stay away from that one. He’s bad news.” Danny was gray-haired but handsome in a Patrick Duffy sort of way. Kylie smiled at the older man. She was going to feel kind of bad about taking his money. Maybe she’d work out a signal with him so he didn’t get swindled like the rest of them were about to.

“Twenty-five to play,
sweetheart,
” Mike informed her with a wink. She smirked at the come on. As he dealt Kylie in, she allowed herself a peek over at Trace. He and the blonde were coming closer, moving a few stools down to watch the game. Homegirl’s boobs were definitely of the silicone variety.

“Trace, aren’t you going to show me the bus? I’ve never seen the inside of a big music star’s tour bus before.” The woman’s high-pitched nasally voice grated on Kylie’s nerves.

She snorted out loud. “I bet she’s seen the inside of a
whole lot
of buses,” Kylie blurted without thinking. All four of the guys at the table gaped at her. “Oh shut up. You were all thinking it,” she said quietly, hoping Trace wouldn’t hear.

Mike made the mewling sound of an angry cat, but Kylie ignored him. Her face burned with the shame of her public jealousy.

Much as it nearly killed her, she lost the first four hands. Lost them badly. Danny gave her a sympathetic smile and offered a few pointers about checking instead of upping the ante. “Sometimes it’s better to fold. Doesn’t mean anything. Just means you were dealt some sorry cards.”

Story of my life
, Kylie thought to herself. “Right, yeah. I need to remember that,” was all she said. She did her best to look confused and nervous as the other men upped the pot. Mike was winking at Trace’s blonde, who was sneaking him seductive little smiles in return, so Kylie figured he didn’t have a very impressive hand. Davis was turning a chip between his fingers, fidgeting. Waiting on the river card because he needed something specific, she would bet on it.

Ken was the wild card. He didn’t flirt, fidget, clear his throat, shift his weight, or make eye contact. Just stared impassively at the cards on the table like he was bored with the whole thing each time he added his chips to the pot.

The river card was the Queen of Hearts that Kylie needed to clench her royal flush. This was it; she was taking these suckers down
. Little girl her ass.

She let the boys up the pot a little more before letting out an exaggerated yawn. “Wow, I’m beat. Can I just go all in and call it a night?” Kylie asked.

“Aw, leaving us so soon?” Mike asked with a wink.

“Kylie, if you go all in and lose, you’ll owe these guys a hundred bucks,” Danny cautioned her. “And they take this stuff seriously. They’ve had to take out loans to pay each other back.”

Mike laughed. “We’ll give you a free pass this time, babe.” It was the
babe
part that had Kylie planning her victory dance in her head.

“No, that’s not fair. I’ve gotta learn somehow, right?”

“Trace,” his company whined his name as she pouted. “After she loses she’s going to the bus, then we won’t be all alone.” Clearly she’d meant for Kylie to hear. Guess she wasn’t the only one with her claws out. Glancing up, she could see why the woman was getting pissy. Trace hadn’t taken his eyes off Kylie once in the last few minutes.

She squirmed under his stare but returned her attention to the game. “Aren’t y’all tired? That was one hell of a show you guys put on tonight. Maybe we should all go all in and hit the hay.” She jerked her head towards Trace without looking at him. “Looks like I might be bunking with y’all tonight,” Kylie said. “Think there’s room for me?”

“Hell yeah,” Mike said, shoving his chips into the pot with enough force to knock a few others off the table.

“Trace?” The startled tone of the bar fly’s voice had everyone looking over.

Trace was leaning forward and glaring down at the whole group of them. “That winnebago’s packed full, Kylie. You’ll sleep on the bus.”

Kylie ignored him and slid all her chips to the middle. “We’ll see. I might have to work out a payment plan with these boys if I lose.”

Trace mumbled something incoherent under his breath as Ken and Davis went all in. Danny was chuckling beside her.

“Sometimes it’s better to fold,” she whispered under her breath. Danny grinned and nodded as he placed his cards face down.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” she drawled.

Mike winked at her as he laid down the two cards that, paired with the cards on the table, gave him trip fives. Ken had nothing. But Davis had a full house.

“Sorry darlin’,” he said as he showed his hand.

“Aw man, I don’t even have two that match,” Kylie complained, turning her Jack and King of hearts over. She slid them right next to the other three cards on the table that completed her hand.

“What the fu—,”

Danny’s laughter interrupted Mike’s curse and made Kylie smile, forcing her to give up her façade. “Oh, well I’ll be. That’s a royal flush, isn’t it?”

She made a big show of taking everyone’s money, thanking each of them as they handed it over. Then she wiggled her hips in her version of a victory dance. “Ah, guess I’ll go take a long hot shower and count my money in bed. Nightie night, fellas.”

“That’s some bullshit right there,” Ken announced.

Mike was a little more adamant, though his tone was edged with disbelief. “That girl just swindled the piss out of us.”

Danny was still laughing as Kylie gave him the hundred bucks he still had in chips. Her daddy had taught her to play when she was just a little girl. He’d also taught her not to screw over decent people. “Yeah she did.” Danny winked at her as he took his money.

Davis was apparently okay with being hustled by a girl. “It was almost worth it to see that sexy little victory dance.”

Kylie turned to leave, planning to walk right past Trace and his date for the evening.

“What, no goodnight for me?” His eyes were dark, that same stormy color they’d been in Nashville.

She stopped and turned to face him. “Good night, Trace,” she said softly, purposely ignoring the daggers the blonde was glaring at her. “If you’re going to have, um, company, I might go sleep in Pauly’s room so you can have some privacy.” The words were acid in her throat. But the thought of hearing Trace and the woman hanging all over him made her sick. She almost shuddered hard enough for him to notice. Maybe she’d sleep in that Winnebago after all.

Trace opened his mouth to say something, but Kylie cut him off with a hug neither of them was expecting. “You can do better,” she whispered in his ear before turning and walking away as quickly as she could manage without making her desperate need to escape obvious.

H
er
end of the bus was still quiet when Kylie got out of the shower. She didn’t want to think about what might be going on in Trace’s room.

Buttoning up a faded blue oversized work shirt of her dad’s that she liked to sleep in, she fought off the pangs of longing and nostalgia that playing poker with the guys had brought on. Her dad had taught her how to play because he had his buddies from work over the first Saturday night of every month for poker night. He wasn’t always able to find a sitter to keep her entertained. Plus, nothing beat the look on a grown man’s face when a ten-year-old girl conned him out of half his paycheck. Those guys learned pretty quickly not to let her play after she’d gotten them all at least once.

She left her hair wet, letting the mass of curls dampen the back of her shirt as she propped up in bed and tried to write. Every time a lyric popped in her head, Trace’s turbulent stare replaced it before she could write anything down. Then her dad’s gentle laughter, like Danny’s tonight, filled her head and her chest with that familiar soul-deep ache.

For a girl who’d just won nearly four hundred dollars, she felt like crap.

She’d already brushed her teeth, but she had a hankering for hot tea. She’d seen a box of powdered chai tea latte mix in the cabinet on the bus. It would have to do.

Running lights on the floor illuminated the interior of the bus just enough to keep her from falling and breaking her neck on her way to the kitchenette. She reached out and felt around for the switch under the cabinets that lit up the area above the sink. She had just flicked it on when Trace’s bedroom door opened.

Her heart stuttered and Kylie froze. If the woman from the bar was in there with him, Kylie was taking her ass to that Winnebago dressed just as she was.

Taking a few deep breaths to brace herself, she turned. Trace stood in the doorway, his dark shirtless figure making her heart race.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said softly. He just stared at her, reminding her with his scorching gaze that she was dressed in a thin nightshirt that barely reached her thighs. “No company tonight?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice light, unaffected.

Trace said nothing as he stalked towards her slowly, the force of his stare backing her against the counter.

“Trace,” she said softly as he came close enough to touch.

Still nothing. Just his eyes burning into hers as his bare chest expanded with each breath. His hair was a mess, like he’d spent all night raking his hands through it, and he was barefoot in jeans. Kylie was pretty sure this was the hottest she’d ever seen him. Heat flooded her body, liquefying the lust between her thighs.

The sensation became so intense it was almost painful. Before she had time to ask him what he was doing, Trace’s strong hands gripped her and lifted her onto the counter. His labored breathing was the only sound she heard as he used those same hands to spread her knees apart. Kylie whimpered when he moved forward to press himself between them.

This was not the Trace Corbin she was used to. This man had pleading eyes and was trembling to the point of vibrating with…want. Or maybe it was need. Kylie wasn’t sure. The muscles holding her rigid relaxed under his warm hands. He trailed them up her thighs, to her hips, finally reaching up and touching her face with gentleness she hadn’t expected him to be capable of. His thumb grazed her bottom lip and it sent a shock straight through her, causing her to arch into him.

“You played those boys tonight.” His quiet ragged voice raked over her.

She couldn’t speak, so she nodded.
Yes.

“You been playing me?” He pinned her with an intense stare she struggled to return.

This time she shook her head no.

When he let his hands fall back to her hips, she reached up and placed her fingers in his hair, using the lush brown locks to pull him closer. His head dropped below hers with a soft moan, and she could feel him breathing her in. She took advantage of the opportunity to do the same. Bourbon, aftershave, and that woodsy scent that was all Trace. No cheap perfume from his friend from earlier. Trace’s soft warm lips brushed against her neck, sending another shiver through her with so much force it would’ve jolted her off the counter had he not been holding her in place. “I’m sorry about what happened in Jackson,” he whispered. “God, I’m so sorry.” His voice was thick and raw and broke something inside of her.

She still couldn’t manage to get any words to reach her mouth, so she just gripped him tighter. She’d already forgiven him.

Her mind raced with questions. The most pressing one being,
what the hell are we doing?
But somehow it didn’t seem important to figure it out right that second. She wanted this, ached for it. She hadn’t even realized how badly until that very moment. Holding him close to her felt right. Safe. As if this was what she had needed all along. This is what would take the pain away.

Trace pulled away, just a few inches, but Kylie moaned her displeasure. She tried to pull him back in, biting her lip when he shook his head. God, those eyes.
Take cover
, they said, because the storm was here, now. And Kylie wanted nothing more than to hurl herself right into its path.

She didn’t know what he was looking for, but his eyes sought answers in hers that she didn’t have. She didn’t even know what the question was. She just wanted him. Like she had never wanted anything or anyone in her entire life.

Cupping her chin firmly, Trace leaned in and oh,
oh
she was more than ready for his mouth. But he didn’t kiss her. He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “So damn beautiful,” he rasped.

Gripping his hips and pulling him as close as possible, until the only thing keeping them apart was the thin lace of her panties and the denim of his jeans, Kylie let her hand stroke his stubbled cheek. She pulled her legs up to wrap them around his waist and Trace let loose a deep growl that had her throbbing against him. The intimacy of it was like nothing she’d ever experienced, taking her higher than even performing on stage had. Trace Corbin should come with a warning label:
highly addictive
.

Just as she turned her face to him, ready to demand his mouth, he stiffened and jerked completely upright. As if he’d been in a trance, he shook his head and looked at her like he didn’t know how he’d ended up in this precarious situation. “You can do better, too,” he said quietly before he turned his head away from her. His deep voice was pained, laced with an emotion Kylie wished was lust but suspected was something else.

“Trace—” she began, but he tore himself out of her tangled grasp and walked back to his room, closing the door behind him and disappearing as quickly as he’d materialized in the doorway.

A wave of conflicting emotions slammed into her so hard she nearly fell to the floor when she tried to lower herself to standing. Kylie held the edge of the counter to keep herself upright. Forget the tea. She had to get back to the safety of her room so she could spend the rest of the night trying to figure out what in the hell had just happened.