Page 33 of Country Music Cowboy
“What?” Travis asked, sitting in the chair beside her. “What did I miss?”
Loretta didn’t miss the now delectably familiar scent of Travis: mint and leather.
“Something to do with the reception? Lighting maybe?” Krystal scanned the screen of her phone, shrugged, and slid it into her pocket. “The doves or butterflies. Is she still doing that?”
Travis shook his head. “I’m lost.”
You’re not the only one.What was wrong with her? Loretta laughed, surprising herself—and Travis.
“You’re hopeless.” Krystal shook her head. “Let’s eat.”
The food was making its way around the table when a man poked his head inside. His gaze bounced from her to Margot and it looked like he’d duck out, but Hank waved him to the table.
“I set you a place.” Krystal nodded at the empty place setting.
“Sawyer, this is Margot Reed and Loretta Gram.” Travis made the introductions, sucking a drop of barbecue from his thumb, before passing the container to his sister. “Sawyer is the only person who’s stuck around who isn’t blood related or dating one of my sisters. I’d say it’s out of the goodness of his heart but…” Travis scooped some coleslaw onto his plate. “Technically, he’s a bodyguard.” He used air quotes.
“Technically?” Sawyer asked, sitting between Margot and Jace. “I am a bodyguard.” He thanked Margot for the container of beans. “Yourbodyguard.”
Travis needed a bodyguard? She stole a quick glance his way. The biceps. The shoulders. The chest. Even the neck…Heneeded a bodyguard? Then again, he couldn’t work the crowd and keep the more overzealous ones from tearing off his shirt.
The image of Travis, shirtless… She took a long sip of her ice tea.
“And your stand-in, I’m guessing?” Margot asked, taking a roll and handing the basket to Hank. “You could pass for a King, Sawyer. Same bones. Same height.”
Margot’s comments had all eyes on Travis’s bodyguard.
“A love child with one of your roadies, eh, Dad?” Travis tore the corner of his roll, using the rest of it to point between the two men. “He is a couple of years older than me.” Travis winked at his father, laughing. “You were young and wild once, I bet.”
Hank King shook his head. “Young, maybe. Wild? No.”
While Travis and Margot started talking about Hank King’s start, Loretta was sidetracked by the tension rising from the opposite end of the table. Specifically, Krystal. From the uneasy way Krystal glanced back and forth between Sawyer and Jace to the pointed gaze all three of them seemed to understand…
But what had them on edge?
She hadn’t meant for Sawyer to catch her watching them, but he did. His gaze narrowed, ever so slightly, before his face cleared of all expression and he turned his attention to his food. But, for a second, his jaw clenched tight. When he did that, she could see where Margot was coming from. He did look like a little like Travis.
Loretta took another sip of her tea, studying the man over the rim of her glass.
“I think you should,” Margot was saying. “It’s your home, Hank. What’s that saying about a man’s home is his castle? Oh lordy, King? Get it? King? Castle. That is hysterical.” She shook her head. “Gut the whole place and start again.”
“Except the home studio.” Hank held up his tea. “We just finished that and I’m damn proud of the way it turned out. Did you get a chance to look at it?” He turned to Loretta, curious.
“I apologize, I got sidetracked in your office.” The confession made her cheeks go hot. “If Travis hadn’t found me, I’d probably still be in there.”
Hank shook his head. “The door is always open to you.”
“Which brings us back around, nicely, doesn’t it?” Margot asked, shooting Hank a playful smile.
“Go on.” Hank cleared his throat and reached for his tea.
“You sure?” Margot waited for him to nod before saying, “Hank and I were discussing today’s meeting and we think it makes sense for you to move in here.”
Loretta inhaled the bite of coleslaw she’d been chewing, forcing her to drink her entire glass of tea and accept several sharp pats on the back from Travis before she could answer. Even then, her throat was so tight she only managed to get out one word. “What?”
“Well, darlin’, you are homeless. I’d love having you move in with me, you know that. Buteverythingis here. The studio. Your singing partner. Your tour collaborators. Wheelhouse Records is right down the road a ways… This makes sense. Flying back and forth from Bakersfield doesn’t.” She paused. “Unless you’re a pilot and I don’t know it.” She chuckled.
“Brock is,” Krystal volunteered, glancing her way. “If you don’t want to stay here.”
