Taming the Country Star: A Hometown Heroes Novella (Entangled Bliss) (3 page)

A camera flashed, dazzling his eyes.

Reality crashed in, and suddenly Kylie was pushing against his chest and moving back from him. She blinked those wide green eyes of hers, then stepped out of his reach, glancing around wildly. The look she darted toward him was pure venom.

Then she turned and shoved her way past the blond woman beside her and out of the row.

“Wait,” Cole shouted, but his voice was lost in the roar of the crowd around him. He shoved against the barricade, but it held tight. He stood up on his toes and shaded his eyes, trying to see over the audience.

She was gone.

Cole cursed and turned back to the front row. The woman who had been talking to Kylie was staring at him, her mouth hanging open. The security guard stepped in closer, reaching out as if to touch his shoulder. Cole pushed past the uniformed man until he stood directly across from Kylie’s friend.

“Where is she going?” he demanded, leaning over the flimsy railing and grabbing the blonde’s sleeve.

She stammered for a moment before finally getting out, “I don’t know.”

Another camera flashed in his eyes and Cole, finally remembering precisely where he was, dropped the woman’s arm. Brushing her shirtsleeve back into place, she backed away, then followed her friend.

This would be all over the tabloids in the morning. Maybe it would be dismissed as a publicity stunt. Not that it mattered—Kylie already hated him. No matter how he might have tried to deny it in the past, there was no getting around it now. It was a clear, irrefutable fact.

But she had come to his show. And damn, she looked good.

He grabbed the edge of the stage and pulled himself back up. Retrieving his guitar from Freddy, he strummed the opening chords to his older hit “Down, But Not Out.” It was a change from the set list, but it suited his mood, and the band followed his lead.

He had a set to finish.

And then he was going to get Kylie Andrews back.

Chapter Four

Kylie staggered down a nearby hallway. Jimmy’s was something of a maze, but she had practically grown up in it. By ducking into the corridor that led to the indoor rodeo arena, she had been able to lose the one photographer who had actually pursued her.

The music had started back up a moment ago and she could almost make out the words and tune, but not quite—especially since the indistinct sound of a rodeo announcer’s voice blended with the thump of the bass from Cole’s concert.

Generally, she avoided the arena. The familiar aroma of dust and cows with a faint overlay of horse manure wafted over her. Combined as it was now with the afterimage from the camera flashes, the smell of horses, bulls, and sweat was almost overpowering.

It reminded her too much of her father.

It was like being snapped back to her childhood, and her stomach heaved as a wave of loss crashed over her. She shook with it, and with the aftereffects of Cole’s touch. Her skin burned where he had made contact, while the rest of her shivered.

Goose bumps popped up on her arms and wave after wave of dizziness brought her stumbling to a halt. Bracing her back against the wall, she slid down until she was sitting on the floor and could drop her head down between her knees.

“Dammit,” she whispered, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the cold white cinderblock wall.

She should have known better than to come tonight.

A single tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and she dashed it away.

She couldn’t believe LeeAnn had won front-row tickets, that Cole had seen her, had sung a song to her. Touched her. Her fingers still burned where he had clasped them, sending tingles straight up the back of her neck and shivers throughout the rest of her body. She couldn’t believe she still reacted to him so instantaneously.

Scratch that. She couldn’t believe she had ever agreed to come to this concert.

When Cole had bounded out on stage, her stomach had clenched. He looked almost exactly like she remembered, all cocksure charm and charisma. His dark-blond hair had grown a little longer, and seeing it made her want to brush it back behind his ears again.

His grin had been as infectious as ever, the leftover mischievous ten-year-old boy he had probably been peeking out through it. And the sound of his voice, deeper than it seemed like it ought to be, made her head swim a little.

But the lights were full on Cole’s face, and she doubted he could see much past them. He had talked out to the audience, staring past her and back into the seats behind her.

By the end of the first song, she had felt safe watching him. LeeAnn was singing along. Kylie had spent far too much time avoiding Cole’s music to really be able to join in, but she clapped when the song ended.

Two songs later, she was almost enjoying herself, as long as she didn’t think too carefully about the fact that it was Cole up on the stage.

LeeAnn leaned in and half shouted into Kylie’s ear, “See? It’s not so bad.”

And at that moment, he saw her.

He had been smiling out at the audience, but when his gaze met hers, the smile froze, then faded.

And Kylie’s stomach had lurched again.

But not half as much as when he stopped singing and headed toward her. And then he had touched her.

She ran one finger across her cheek absently. She could still feel his touch against her face, hot and tingling. In that moment, she had forgotten everything—forgotten that he had lied, that he was a disruption to her safe, calm life, that he was everything she wanted to avoid.

His life in the spotlight meant that he would leave her someday.

She wasn’t about to give him that chance.

And yet when he touched her, she had leaned toward him without thinking.

But then the cameras started flashing. Certain she was about to be sick, she had pushed her way past LeeAnn and out into the aisle, scanning for the nearest exit. By the time she reached the back of the concert hall, she was practically running.

Now she took a deep breath. If she dodged any other photographers still lurking about, she could wait for LeeAnn at the bar, have a drink, and calm down. Maybe find a convenient shadow to hide in while she waited for the show to end.

She pulled out her phone to let LeeAnn know what she was doing and found a text from her friend waiting for her.

He tried to follow you.

Kylie stared at it for a long moment, then erased it.

So he had come after her.

So what?

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t been honest with her before. Everything she thought she had known about him had been a lie. And even if she could get past those initial lies, there was still the basic fact that he lived the kind of life she wanted no part of.

With a deep breath, she pulled herself up until she was standing again and headed toward the exit, pausing only long enough to send a return text to LeeAnn:

Take me home now?

…

It had taken everything Cole had to finish his planned set once he’d gotten back up on stage, and even then, only half his mind had been on the show. Seeing Kylie had brought everything back—even as she walked away, he could remember every curve, every plane of her body.

He had to find her.

Billie held out a towel for him as he left the stage after the final encore. “What was that?” she asked. “You trying to get yourself killed? Those women will tear you apart.”

Cole shook his head. “I need your help.”

“Seriously, Cole. Getting too close to the fans will get you hurt. Were you really trying to follow that woman out the door?” Billie asked.

Cole grinned. “Apparently.”

Billie blinked. “Oh. Well, then. Okay.” She drew the last word out.

“I need you to find her for me. Her name is Kylie Andrews. She’s got some shop here in town—she described it as ‘cowgirl glitz,’ but I can’t remember the name.”

“Oh, hell. It’s her, isn’t it? Mexico girl? The one that dumped your ass when she found out who you really were?”

Cole laughed out loud. “It’s her,” he said. “She’s the one.” He blinked at his own word choice, but didn’t correct himself.

“You know this is a bad idea, right?” She ticked off items on her fingers. “You’ve got a tour to finish, at least ten more songs to write, an album to record, a whole big round of publicity appearances to do. You don’t have time for this.”

“I’ll make time, Billie.” His smile widened. “And so will you.”

“Crap. I know that look. You’re not going to stop until you get your way, are you?” She shook her head. “Fine. I’ll figure out where to find her. But only because you insist. For the record, I think it’s a terrible plan. She dumped you once, she’ll do it again. So when it happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You’re the best,” Cole said, leaning over and dropping a kiss on her cheek.

She pushed him away with a laugh. “And you’re a pain in my ass. Go on. Get cleaned up, call it a night. I’ll text you the address as soon as I have it.”

…

Kylie opened the door to Cowbelles early the next morning. Her headache was no better than it had been the night before when LeeAnn dropped her off at her house.

At the back of the store, she pushed open the door to the stockroom, then rinsed out the coffeepot and filled it up. She was going to need a lot of caffeine today, she suspected.

But not even the coffee helped, even though she drank several cups of it. She blew across the top of the latest one, staring at the display of bejeweled crosses at the back of the store.

“Kylie.” LeeAnn’s voice echoing over the jingle of the door opening startled Kylie out of her reverie. “You here?” Her voice was hesitant.

“In the back,” Kylie said, stepping out.

“So. You okay?” LeeAnn asked.

“Fine,” Kylie answered shortly.

“Um. Have you seen this yet?” LeeAnn held a paper out to Kylie—a tabloid with a bright-red headline. Kylie winced. She hadn’t seen it, but she could guess what it was.

“No.” She took the tabloid, then spread the paper out over the counter. This was weirdly reminiscent of her friend’s visit yesterday. But at least this time LeeAnn wasn’t doing handstands in the back.

“Let me see the other one again?” LeeAnn asked. Kylie sighed and pulled out the older tabloid, already open to the page with her pictures. LeeAnn smoothed it down next to the new one.

The new pictures of Cole showed the two of them leaning in toward each other across the barricade—there were images from several angles, highlighting Kylie’s wide-eyed gaze and Cole’s slightly parted lips.

There was also one of Cole reaching over the concert barricade, arms outstretched, eyes pleading as she pulled away.

There was a clear one of her, too, this time—taken as she walked by someone in the audience, Kylie guessed. Lines bracketed her pinched mouth. Had she really been radiating that much misery when she left?

“So,” LeeAnn said. Kylie waited, but her friend didn’t continue.

“Yeah?” Kylie finally said

“Want me to show you some breathing techniques?” LeeAnn closed her eyes and began chanting. “Ommmm.”

“No,” Kylie said through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to learn any breathing techniques.”

LeeAnn opened one eye. “It might help you relax,” she said. “Ommmm.” When Kylie didn’t respond, she opened her other eye, too, and said in a normal tone, “So what are you going to do?”

“Do?”

LeeAnn flicked her fingernail against the tabloid headline. “Cole’s Long-Lost Love?” it asked in a hysterical font. “You’ve got to talk to him. See that face? That’s the face of a man who wants to see you again. He could barely finish the show last night.”

Kylie rubbed her eyes. “I can’t, LeeAnn.”

“Why not? It’s clear that you really like him.”

“Well, yeah. When I thought he was Cole no-last-name, businessman and random rebound hookup guy. But Cole Grayson, famous singer? I don’t know if I can deal with that.”

“Why not?” LeeAnn asked. “Why does it matter if he’s famous or not?”

Kylie’s eyes flickered up to the image of her father on the wall, but instead of answering directly, she glanced back down at the paper in front of her. “I hate these things,” she said, her lip curling. “And I don’t want to be just another pickup for him. Do you have any idea how many tabloid pictures there are of him with different women?”

But her friend was no longer listening. Instead, she stared over Kylie’s shoulder toward the entrance. “It’s almost a hundred degrees outside,” she said. “So why is that guy all wrapped up in a serape?”

Turning to follow LeeAnn’s gaze, Kylie caught sight of a man standing outside the door, peering in. He was draped in a Mexican-style blanket, a dark-brown Stetson pulled low over the sunglasses covering his eyes. He balanced a carryout tray with two Starbucks coffee cups on it.

“Does he think he’s Clint Eastwood?” LeeAnn asked.

“Worse,” Kylie responded with a sigh. “He thinks he’s in disguise.” When her friend shot a puzzled look her direction, Kylie explained. “I’m pretty sure that’s Cole.” She glanced back up at the pictures of her father, reminding herself that no good could come of being tied to a celebrity and steeling herself against Cole’s charm.

How could someone draped in a serape still look so damn good?

Chapter Five

Cole reached for the door to Cowbelles, quickly taking stock of the situation inside. Through the glass door, he could see her, standing beside the counter, staring up at something on the wall behind it. As Cole pulled the door open, he took off his Stetson, pushed his fingers through his hair, and smiled at her.

Turning to face him, Kylie’s eyes were huge. She didn’t say anything as he approached the counter. Cole’s gaze swept across the tiny store. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said the shop was full of cowhide and rhinestones.

He doubted he had ever seen so many sparkles in one place, even when he played in Nashville. Through his sunglasses, items shone back at him, glinting and twinkling from shelves and racks.

“Hey,” he said.

Then his scan of the store dropped to the counter itself and his step faltered. She had that damned tabloid spread out in front of her—the one she’d seen when she got back to the States last year. The one that had ruined his plans to tell her everything. And what looked like a brand-new one, too, with pictures from the concert the night before.

Convincing her to see him again might be harder than he had hoped.

“Okay,” Kylie’s blond friend said, stepping toward the door. “So. I think I’ll see you later, Kylie.” She sketched a bow in his direction. “Namaste,” she said, and bolted out of the store.

Kylie stared after her for a moment, then moved away from the counter and started straightening merchandise that was, as far as Cole could tell, already perfectly arranged. She turned to a stand of key chains, bluebonnets encased in melamine with the shape of Texas imprinted on them.

They rattled when she brushed one of them, and Cole realized for the first time that she was shaking. Was that a good sign? Kylie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye but didn’t say anything.

“I brought coffee,” he offered.

“I saw.” Her voice was low and she still didn’t look at him.

He leaned his hip against the checkout counter, set his hat down, and stared down at the open tabloid. He pushed his sunglasses up over his head. “You get used to it, you know,” he said, flicking one finger against the edge of the paper.

Kylie turned her back to him and moved to the next display. “The photographers? I’m guessing it helps if you know it might happen.”

“Yeah.” The word came out on a sigh. He scuffed one boot lightly along the wood floor. “I didn’t mean for you to find out that way, you know.”

“Find out who you were?” Her voice was tight.

“Any of it, I guess. Mostly the fact that I wasn’t entirely honest when we met, though.” She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, and his stomach tightened in an automatic response. God, she was beautiful.

She finally turned to face him directly. “Why are you here, Cole?” she asked.

He glanced back down at the tabloid and shrugged. “I was surprised to see you last night.”

She laughed, a short, harsh sound. “Yeah. I was surprised to be there.” Her glance raked across the serape, took in the hat and the sunglasses. “Is this supposed to be some kind of disguise?”

For the first time ever, as far as he could remember, he actually felt self-conscious. “Yeah.” Cole shrugged the blanket off over his shoulders. He saw Kylie’s gaze dart to his forearms, covered as they were in a light sheen of sweat. “It’s hot as hell under that.”

Folding the blanket across his arms, he tried a grin, but Kylie’s mouth tightened as she turned away again and started fussing with a stack of T-shirts.

His words came out in a rush. “Cozumel wasn’t supposed to mean anything, you know? I didn’t think it would matter if you didn’t know I’m…well, me. You were on the rebound, for Christ’s sake—it was supposed to be your honeymoon. And it was nice to meet someone who didn’t care about…” His voice trailed off.

“About who you really are?”

“About what comes with being who I am, at least.” He shrugged again. “What could I have said? Would it have made a difference?”

She had stopped trying to straighten things and had stepped closer. It was all he could do to stop himself from closing the space between them and taking her in his arms.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe? At least I would have been more prepared.” Now her voice was the one that trailed off as she glanced behind him to the tabloid. “I saw it in the airport, you know. On the way home. It was already on the stands by the time my plane landed.” She spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear her. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw.”

“I’m sorry, Kylie.” He placed the folded serape down over the tabloid, covering up its incriminating images. “But in my defense, I did try to tell you.”

“Why are you here, Cole?” Her voice was expressionless, flat.

“You came to my show last night.”

“Yes. I went to your show. LeeAnn got tickets, her boyfriend canceled, and I didn’t want to disappoint her.” Her eyes flicked toward the side of the store.

Cole’s gaze followed hers—and came to rest on a display featuring products covered with his own image. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a half smile. “Really? That’s the only reason?”

“That’s it.” Her voice was defensive.

“Dammit, Kylie, you came to me.”

“No, I didn’t. I came to your concert. Believe me, it’s different.” Her voice rose. “Nothing’s changed.” She tilted her chin toward the hat and serape on the counter. “If anything, it’s worse. At least in Mexico you didn’t have to skulk around like some sort of criminal, hiding behind stupid disguises.”

“No, there I had to register under a fake name, hide out, pretend to be someone I’m not just to get a little privacy. Here I didn’t want anyone to follow me. Would you rather I brought the paparazzi down on you?”

“No. I would rather you didn’t come at all.” Her near-shout echoed in the small space, followed almost immediately by the electronic chime of the bell signaling the opening of the door. Kylie’s cheeks had flushed bright red and they both breathed heavily, staring at each other. Kylie broke away first, moving toward the customer who had entered the store, asking in a murmur if she could help the woman find anything in particular.

Cole turned his back on them and picked up his disguise, staring down at the tabloid he uncovered. He heard the chimes ring again as the customer left the store, but he didn’t turn around, working instead to calm his racing heart.

“I looked you up online, you know.” Kylie’s voice came from behind him. “When I got back.”

A barking laugh escaped him. “And I can guess what you found. You’re not the only one who’s been blindsided by the tabloids.”

The silence was so complete he could hear her breathing, harsh and rasping. Finally, he turned around. “Can we start over?”

“Start over?”

“Yeah. Like this: Hi, I’m Cole Grayson.” He stuck his hand out and waited. After a long moment, she reached out and matched his light grip. “I was wondering if you would be willing to go out to dinner with me.”

She tried to pull away, but he didn’t loosen his clasp. “It probably wouldn’t be easy,” he said, leaning forward confidingly. “I’d like to get to know you better. But we might have to sneak around. I might even be forced to wear a costume. It’ll probably be really, really stupid.”

She huffed a laugh.

He could work with that. “Can I pick you up tonight?”

“No. Seriously, why bother? It’s not going to work.”

“I’m not asking for forever, Kylie. Just dinner.” He squeezed her hand and let go. She rubbed her thumb over it, apparently without noticing, and Cole bit his cheek to keep from grinning.

“Fine,” Kylie said, drawing the word out. “But I get to pick the place. Somewhere the tabloids won’t think to look.”

…

What just happened?

When she saw Cole walk into the store in that ridiculous getup, Kylie fully intended to kick him right back out.

But now she was going to dinner with him.

This was a really bad idea.

And at this point, the coffee he brought her was cold. She took a drink anyway, waving as Cole darted out the door, glancing both ways and jogging off, the stupid serape fluttering out behind him.

The serape and her stomach had a lot in common at the moment.

She spent the rest of the day alternately ignoring the odd mix of anxiety and excitement trembling through her at the prospect of going out with Cole, and giving in to the desire to daydream about their time together on her honeymoon. Had their connection been a fluke? A rebound, as he had suggested? Or would they be able to re-create it here, in the midst of their normal (or in Cole’s case, not-so-normal) lives?

How stupid was it to even try?

Dinner. Not forever.
Right. Get a grip, Kylie.

And she’d thought waiting for the concert had been agonizing.