Page 22 of Veiled

“Works for me,” I say easily as I stand up and start packing all my things into my bag. “Let’s go back to the cabin, and I’ll get the next gig lined up with a better plan for a place to stay after.” I look around the motel room and shudder.

He laughs, shaking his head at me as he grabs his bag too. “And they call me a diva.”

I snort. “Wanting some damn sort of comfort in a room I’m staying in isn’t being a diva.” I totally am though.

“You can’t work for free,” he says, trying to be firm, and it’s kind of cute, but I wave him off easily.

“Unless you start charging...” I look pointedly at him, and he glares at me. “It looks like I am.”

“Waylon...” he starts, but I wave him off again.

“I know. I’m fired and all that.”

“No,” he says quietly, sighing. “Thank you. I guess you’re rehired. At least for a few months, while I perfect the songs and maybe even enjoy performing a bit.”

I give him a nod, seeing on his face that he’s hoping I won’t argue or call him out. That I won’t gloat. But I don’t need to do any of that. “Okay then.” I hold out my hand to him, and he takes it. I shake his hand firmly. “Good to be working with you again.”

He grins and shakes my hand back before letting it drop. He looks serious again though, like he wants to discuss something. And by the slight blush of his cheeks, I can pretty much guess what it is.

“Right,” I say, standing up tall and swinging my bag over my shoulder. “We have a professional relationship again, which means last night doesn’t happen again.”

I can’t tell if he’s relieved or disappointed as he lifts his chin and then nods. “Right. Professional.”

I smile and pat him on the shoulder. “We can do that. Now let’s get on the road because that coffee was godawful, and I have to have another cup or I’ll die.”

He rolls his eyes excessively and huffs as he grabs his bag and heads toward the door. “So fucking dramatic.”

I shrug it off, following him. “I make no apologies.”

I can’t tell from the back of his head, but I’m pretty sure he’s smiling as he leaves the motel and heads to my car.

This will be fine. I am nothing if not professional.

Chapter Twelve

JUSTIN

“Okay, so I talked to Dalton, and he’s more than eager to take on new responsibilities. Apparently, he’s been working with Jenny too, but the kid will be good in music and sports. So I’m not worried.” Waylon seems to be full of energy this morning as he makes himself at home on the porch of my cabin.

He brought breakfast from the local café, so I didn’t kick his ass out. Not that I would. Professional relationship.

He’s my manager again. And working for free.

I don’t know if this is a good idea or not, but so far, it seems to be working out, I guess. We made it back to the cabin last night, and he already has another gig lined up for next week.

It’s five hours away in the opposite direction of the first one. And he has a place picked out with a few nice hotels in the area where we can escape afterward. It all seems ridiculous, I know, but it’s still a damn relief to think that this place is my secret, and I don’t have to worry about anyone showing up here.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, taking a drink from the coffee he brought.

“Positive. And I do have service on my phone sometimes, so it’s not like I can’t work at all for my other clients. This will be just fine.” I think he’s trying to convince himself, but I don’t call him on it.

The truth is, I am grateful he found me, not that I’ll ever admit it. Thinking about the first gig I got for myself—it would have been a disaster. I would have been on the run again in no time. I don’t want that.

I just want a little peace.

“Okay,” I say. “Thank you.”

He gets that weird look on his face every time I say it. It’s not like I’ve been totally ungrateful this entire time. I don’t think. But I do owe him thanks. I want to record the album and get it out there, but I won’t do that before working out the kinks first. It’s important to get it just right, and for me, that means performing.

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