Page 110 of Burn the Wild

A muscle works in his jaw as he reads. “What is this shit?”

“Plans for when I go back.” I rub my eyes. It was the over-the-edge demand of a new tour the second I return to LA. The Reese Austin Comeback Tour.Just like Elvis, he said.

I’m already exhausted. I feel like I’ll never escape this endless life Gavin’s created for me.

Ford sits back in his chair. “This doesn’t make you happy, does it?”

“No. It doesn’t.” Finally, I’m honest.

“When’s the last time you were happy?”

The memory comes automatically. “Playing my guitar like no one was watching.”

Ford stands and retreats to the corner of the room. He lifts my guitar off the bench and returns to me. “Play it, baby.”

I blink. I haven’t touched the guitar since I arrived.

Stunned, I take it from him and nod gratefully. Then, like magic, my hands move over the strings. I tune, I pluck. The rhythm invades my bones and stays there. Electricity hums in my body. My soul.

As I begin to sing an old Johnny Cash song, Ford settles onto a chair, boot kicked up on his knee. His shoulders relax andhis expression appears somewhat dazed as he listens. He keeps those amber eyes on me the entire time.

He makes me want to sing again.

Live again.

The thought is so pure, so sweet, a tear slips down my cheek.

My voice trembles as I switch over to Patsy Cline’s, “Sweet Dreams.” I sing higher and louder. The black hole shrinks. My heart lifts—free.

Ford’s jaw works. “Reese.”

He’s looking at me like I’m a dream. Like I exist and he’s the only one who has me.

Trying to ignore my heart pounding in my chest, I stop playing, reach out my hand. He does the same, braiding our fingers together.

Home.

This is what home feels like.

“Would you look at that, Country Boy?” With her face a bright beam, Reese points a finger at the laptop screen. At her own checking account and the small sum that sits there. “Two paychecks.”

“Two paychecks.” It’s not enough. Not for her.

“I’m rollin’ in money now,” she jokes. “Might even buy some Louboutins.”

“You’re doin’ it, baby,” I say, proud of her. She contacted one of Bosko’s lawyers. Ammunition on her side for when she needs it. “Every day you’re closer.”

“I am.” She squints at the screen. “How do you do this again?”

She leans in and I catch a whiff of her peaches-and-cream scent. Fuck, I want to kiss her again. I want to hear that little whimper that pops off her lips every time I spank her ass.

Focus, asshole.

Clearing my throat, I tear my eyes from her face and show her how to track her checking account.

I stay still, watching her face, and loving the way she’s so happy. Loving the way she’s taken control of her life to get it all back.

It’s been three days since I found Reese in her chalet. Three days of keeping a close watch on her. She seems happy, back to her life on the ranch. She gave me bits and pieces, but I’mannoyed I still don’t have the full story. Girl’s locked tighter than a fucking safe.

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