Girl With Guitar (10 page)

R
ae
spent most of the night dragging Kylie around and introducing her to people. Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends from high school, writing buddies, and drinking buddies. It seemed like everyone Trace knew was there. Conspicuously absent were his parents.

When she and Rae stepped out for some air, Kylie asked her where they were tonight. When she saw the pain and discomfort on the girl’s face, she wished she hadn’t.

“If Trace hasn’t mentioned them, he’d probably rather I didn’t,” she said quietly, glancing back towards the barn.

“Oh, okay. Well in that case—”

“But he’ll probably never mention it.”

“I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry, I was just—”

Rae waved her hand as if it wasn’t a big deal. “My dad was a musician. He was all about making it big in country music. As kids, he and his brothers sang in church and were even on the radio. But as he got older, things just didn’t work out. He never could let it go. He drank. A lot. He was violent when he was drunk.” Rae shuddered visibly and Kylie noticed how thin and frail the usually vibrant girl suddenly seemed. “Trace made sure none of that ever reached me, and he did his best to protect Claire Ann, but my mom wouldn’t stay out of my dad’s path.”

“Oh God, Rae. I’m so sorry.” She hated herself even more for prying. This was totally none of her business.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago and I don’t remember it all that well,” she assured Kylie with a shrug. “My dad died of colon cancer when I was ten and Trace was twenty. Finally free of having to protect us all, he wanted to go to Nashville and cut a record with some guys he was in a band with.”

Well this was new. Kylie had never heard of Trace being in a band.

Even in the dark, she could tell that Trace’s little sister was nervous about what she was about to reveal. But the girl bit her lip and continued. “My mom totally freaked. I’m talking
ballistic
. She said if he followed in Dad’s footsteps he would be dead to her.”

“What?” Kylie couldn’t even comprehend a mother not being proud of having a famous son.

“Yeah. They, um, still don’t talk. She won’t even say his name and we can’t say it around her,” Rae finished softly. The sadness in her voice made Kylie feel hollowed out inside.

“But he made it, and he’s not like his dad at all, right?”

Trace’s sister was quiet for a long time. The silence stretched out between them and Kylie thought of Trace’s drinking. Him missing concerts, the things she’d seen in tabloids and on TMZ, him stumbling in and out of cabs, punching out cameramen, what had happened with Steven Blythe, and then the most recent incident in Jackson. Ah.

“But it’s not like…” Kylie trailed off, unsure of how much Rae knew or should know.

The difference was, the only person Trace really hurt was himself.

Knowing what she did now, the dark horrified look she’d seen in his eyes in Jackson, when he’d grabbed her made so much more sense. His walking away from her that night in Mobile did too. She ran a hand through her hair and struggled to stay put. She wanted to see Trace. And she kind of didn’t want to. Because she wanted to wrap her arms around him, kiss him, and tell him how sorry she was about his dad and his mom and how unfair life was. That it was okay and she understood. But he wouldn’t want her pity, just like she hadn’t wanted anyone’s when her dad died.

“We should get back,” Rae said, tilting her head towards the barn and jolting Kylie from her thoughts. “And hey, please don’t tell Trace I told you about all our family drama.”

Kylie nodded. “Of course not.” She linked her arm in Rae’s and they headed back into the party.

Once she was back in the barn, Kylie chatted with a few people about her music and with Claire Ann about what a force of nature Rae was.

“How’s he doing?” Claire Ann asked barely loud enough to be heard, keeping her eyes across the room on Trace. Kylie saw him smiling and laughing with his buddies, and she could hardly imagine him as a kid protecting his sisters from a violent drunk of a father. But the way he’d reacted with Steven…it made sense now, and yeah, she could see it because she had.

“Good, mostly. There was the one thing in Dallas but other than that…” Kylie really wanted to tell the woman that she didn’t know how he was because they really weren’t close like that. He’d been avoiding her just as much as she was keeping her distance from him. In fact, if it wasn’t for Rae, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t even be here.

“Good,” Claire Ann said with a relieved smile. “He’s a good man, even if he doesn’t always act like one.”

“I can see that,” Kylie answered softly. As if he could tell they were talking about him, Trace turned and met her gaze. She flushed with embarrassment and looked away.

By the time she looked back in his direction, he was barely a foot away. “Not gossipin’ about me over here, are you, Claire Ann?”

“Me? Never. I leave that to Rae,” she answered with a grin.

“Uh huh,” he murmured, eyeing both of them suspiciously. “So, you had enough yet? Ready to get back to home sweet bus?” he asked, turning to face Kylie.

“I don’t want to take you away from your party. I can get a cab back in a little while,” she told him.

“I don’t think so, darlin’. First of all, there aren’t exactly a ton of cabs out here, and second, what kind of man brings a girl to a party and doesn’t make sure she gets home safe?”

Kylie couldn’t respond right away. The way he’d called her darlin’ didn’t seem like the generic way most southern guys said it. It was warm and his voice melted around it like he meant it. God, she had to get out of here. She was totally losing her grip on reality.

“You’re not staying the night here?” Claire Ann spoke up before Kylie could say anything. “Rae will be crushed.”

“Aw hell, don’t do that, Claire Ann. It’s bad enough Rae guilted her in to coming to this,” Trace whined as he gestured to the party. “But now you guys are going to turn it in to a sleepover?”

“Hey, you do what you want,” his sister began, holding her hands up. “You can be the one to tell Rae you’re leaving to go sleep on a bus.” She winked at Kylie and disappeared into the crowd.

“We don’t have to leave for South Carolina until tomorrow night. I kind of thought Pauly was going to get us a hotel anyways,” Kylie said quietly, not wanting to intrude.

“Yeah, he was, or he did.” Trace shrugged. “But there are several guest rooms and I do make one hell of an omelet,” he said, barely containing his boyish grin.

“Well, I hardly ever turn down food and now I have to know if you’re as good as you say.”

“Always darlin’. Always.” Trace’s cocky exterior had returned, but now it was sexier and less irritating than before.

“Slumber party it is then,” she said with exaggerated enthusiasm. Trace gave her a goofy two thumbs up and she couldn’t help but feel happy that she’d made him happy.

When he pulled her onto the dance floor, she didn’t resist. Dancing with Trace made her feel alive and she loved watching him laugh easily as they talked and joked. The closer he held her, the tighter she wanted to be held.

“I’m glad you came,” he said softly to the top of her head.

“Me too,” she mumbled back.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It wasn’t a question. And it was the truth. So Kylie said nothing. “Probably a good idea.” The sadness in his voice sent a pang of guilt through her.

“You pretty much told me to,” she whispered.

“I did. And I meant it. I’m not that guy, Kylie.”

“What guy?” she asked, pulling back to look at his face so she could figure out what in the world he was talking about.

“That guy you deserve. The one who would take you on dates, write you love songs, serenade you in public, send you flowers, and all that shit. That’s not me. I don’t do relationships.”

“So I noticed.” Sighing loudly, she pulled him back to her. Who the hell ever said she needed all of those things? She was pretty damn happy right where she was. “Can I ask why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why you don’t do relationships.”

Not that she necessarily wanted one. She had a career to think about, even if she was tanking it with everything she had at this particular moment.

“Because I let people down,” Trace said evenly before clearing his throat.

“So don’t.”

A deep laugh from her dance partner made her smile. “I’m working on it, Kylie Lou.”

“That’s good enough for me.” She shrugged and leaned her head on his warm shoulder. God, he smelled good. She wanted to breathe him in until it hurt, but didn’t want to show him all her crazy when they were finally getting along.

“You really ride the bull at Bud’s?” Trace asked, smoothly switching the subject to something lighter.

“Hell yeah I did,” Kylie answered. Like she’d wear the shirt if she hadn’t.

“How long did you last?’

She grinned up at him. “I rode the full eight. That’s how I got the shirt.”

Another throaty laugh, but this one had a nervous edge to it. “Bet you’re one hell of a rider.”

Goosebumps broke out over her skin and she barely stifled a shiver. “Only one way to find out. Not sure you could handle it though, old man.”

Clutching her tighter, Trace licked his lips so close to her face she could feel the wet warmth of his tongue. “There are a lot of beds in that house, darlin’. I’d behave myself if I were you.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

K
ylie
woke up in Trace’s bed feeling more rested than she probably ever had in her entire life. Rain pretty much ended the party around three in the morning, and Rae had loaned her some pajamas.

Between that and Trace insisting that she sleep in the master bedroom while he took a guest room, she was almost too cozy for comfort. This was the kind of bed she could spend an entire afternoon in. Longer if a certain someone joined her. His sheets smelled like him and she didn’t want to shower for fear she’d wash his scent off. And yes, she realized exactly how pathetic that was.

Intoxicating aromas of bacon and coffee wafted to her and she felt like she could float to the kitchen following her nose. She resisted and freshened up in the bathroom first, throwing on her jeans and tank top from the night before. She borrowed a dark blue plaid button up from Trace’s closet and threw it on over her tank. Man, the boy loved his plaid.

Following the sound of voices chattering into the kitchen, she found Rae sitting at an enormous oak table while Claire Ann was grabbing dishes from a cabinet. Trace was at the stove, shirtless in dark sweats. Kylie’s mouth watered and she prayed it was because of the food.

The table was literally crammed full with bacon, sausage, omelets, and a basket of biscuits with a full gravy boat next to it. A bowl of sliced fruit sat in the middle. Had Trace cooked all of this? If so, Kylie was going to give up her singing career and ask him to marry her.
Not funny. Do not even go there.

“Morning,” she said quietly, interrupting Rae and Trace’s debate on bacon versus sausage.

Everyone stopped and stared at her for a second. Trace flinched like he’d been popped with grease. Well, that was what he got for cooking shirtless.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Rae chimed, sending everyone back into action.

Trace shook his head and went back to cooking. “Western omelets on the left, Kylie. Plain cheese on your right,” he called over to her.

Kylie took her cue from everyone else and just started loading her plate. She chose a western omelet, two pieces of bacon, and a giant biscuit. She grabbed a few pieces of fruit just to make herself feel better about the greasy goodness on her plate.

“Juice or coffee?” Claire Ann asked her.

“Both sound good. I’ll take coffee, please. Black with sugar.”

After everyone was seated at the table, Claire Ann said a quick blessing over the food. Kylie was fine until the woman added a part at the end about being thankful for having Trace and Kylie home. At that, her world shifted, titling Kylie so hard she had to grip the table to keep from falling out into the floor. She couldn’t even swallow her perfect bite of cheesy meaty deliciousness that was her omelet. This wasn’t her home—she didn’t need to dare think of it that way. This wasn’t even her family. She had no family. The laughter, the smiles, the friendly teasing, the food—this wasn’t for her. This would never be her life. She’d buried the closest thing she’d ever have to this along with her dad.

“Um, excuse me a second,” she said, standing abruptly. Before anyone could stop her, she bolted back towards Trace’s room.

Inexplicable tears formed in her eyes and a giant knot wedged itself in her throat. What a stupid idea this was.
Breathe, Kylie. Just get through breakfast, do this last show in South Carolina, and do not ever go near Trace Corbin or anyone related to him ever again.

And then it hit her. This was it, the last show. And it was tomorrow night. The tears behind Kylie’s eyes spilled down her cheeks. She darted in the bathroom to grab some tissue. Somehow it felt like the beginning even though it was the end. She had to keep reminding herself of that. It was the end of this tour. But maybe the beginning of her career? Her hands shook as she wiped her tears. What the hell was she so upset about?

“Kylie, you all right in there?” Trace’s voice came from outside the bedroom.

She swallowed hard. Nope, no way she could talk without him hearing the tremors in her voice.

“Mmhm,” she tried to mumble loud enough for him to hear.

“What?” King of impatience that he was, he pushed the bedroom door open. She thought briefly about pulling the bathroom door closed to keep him from seeing her, but that just seemed overly dramatic and childish. Kind of like crying before you’ve even had breakfast.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer as he took in her emotional meltdown. “What’s the matter, baby?” Even Trace startled at his words. “Kylie, I meant to say Kylie. I have sisters so when women cry, I get all—” He didn’t finish his sentence, just waved his hand around to indicate that he was a little scattered. She understood the feeling.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m fine.” She tried to smile, but this was pretty much the most humiliating situation she’d ever been in. Well, one of them.

“Yeah, you look like you’re feeling super fine,” he said, crossing his arms over his bare chest and leaning against the bathroom counter. “And do not even say it was my cooking because you didn’t even eat anything.”

Kylie laughed quietly and shook her head. “Family stuff,” she choked out.

“Ah.” For a moment neither of them said anything. Then Trace reached over and wiped a tear from her cheek. When he used that same hand to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, it nearly broke her apart all over again. Her mind struggled to reconcile this man, the one who cooked, wiped tears, and protected his sisters, with the selfish ass she’d seen on the bus.

“Tell you what,” he began, taking a step back. “Lay back down. I’ll tell them you aren’t feeling well and I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.” His words were another jolt to Kylie’s bruised heart.

“Why would you do that?” she asked, swiping her nose with his shirtsleeve.

“Because, under all these muscles is a halfway decent guy. And this was a lot to throw on you when you thought you were just coming to a party.”

It sounded like heaven on earth, but Kylie worried what his sisters would think of her. She didn’t want to look like some spoiled brat. She liked them. She had a good time talking with both of them last night. That was the problem. She really liked all of them. And this down home version of Trace. Too much. Way, way too much.

“Okay?” Trace probed.

She nodded and he clapped his hands together. “All right then.” And then he was gone. Suddenly Kylie felt drained and utterly exhausted. Maybe she needed more rest. Or coffee. Or both.

Slipping her jeans off and placing them on the nightstand, she started to get back in the bed. She planned to snuggle in and pull the covers up to her waist before Trace returned. But he was like The frickin’ Flash.

“Okay, I brought, um whoa—”

Kylie jumped into the bed and then burst into laughter at his panicked expression. The shirt was past her thighs and he was Captain Panty Dropper of country music. Surely he wasn’t as embarrassed as he looked.

“I bring you breakfast in bed, you flash me, then laugh at me. Nice.”

“I did not flash you, at least not on purpose.” Kylie laughed harder, relieved that the awkward tension from her crying jag in the bathroom seemed to be gone.

“Yeah well, you can keep that shirt by the way. Pretty sure I’ll never be able to look at it the same again,” he said, putting the tray with her breakfast on the bed. She noticed he’d added to her plate.

“Aw, but then you won’t have anything to remember me by,” she teased, enjoying the light flirty atmosphere.

Trace’s face was serious as he sat her coffee and a cup of orange juice on the night table next to her jeans. “Kylie, you sang the hell out of my song the first time I laid eyes on you and then you tore into me with the fury of ten hells the first time we ever actually spoke. After what happened in Jackson…” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard before he finished. “I don’t think I’ll be forgetting you anytime soon.” When he opened them, his usually bright eyes were dark and hooded as they burned into hers.

“Okay,” she said, taking a bite of omelet and chewing carefully before swallowing. It was still warm, making her to wonder if he’d reheated it. “I’ll keep the shirt then.”

Trace held her captive in his gaze for a few more seconds and then he stood abruptly. “Finish your breakfast and get cleaned up. I’ll give you the grand tour of the property and then we can head back to the bus.”

“Pauly’s probably mad at me,” she said quietly.
Or at least he will be when he notices me gawking at you like I love you.

“He’ll get over it,” Trace answered with a smirk.

Yeah, but will I?