Tags:
Catherine Bybee,
music,
musician,
reunited lovers,
small town romance,
Novella,
past love,
Cindi Madsen,
Marina Adair,
famous,
Julia London,
country
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