Page 6 of Country Music Cowboy
“Considering how uneventful this recording session has been, this seems like an awfully strong reaction.” As far as he knew, he’d never done wrong by Loretta Gram. Overall, he was a likeable enough guy. Maybe less fun now that he wasn’t drinking, but still. This speech didn’t add up. “Did I do or say something to piss you off?”
“This isn’t about today.” She sighed, impatient. “This is about…you. To be frank, I just don’t like you. Period.” With that, she brushed past him, headed down the hall, and went out the door.
Travis stared after her, wondering what the hell had just happened.
Chapter 2
Loretta sat cross-legged on the side of the stage, watching the director and the choreographer argue. All around them was a flurry of activity, the stagehands, designers, and sound techs a coordinated team doing their jobs with efficiency—regardless of the drama unfolding on the stage itself. Right about now, she envied them. They could get their work done. She could not. Not until the director said they were good to go. Gabriel Luna, the awards show director, had yet to recognize her presence, let alone give her the thumbs-up to rehearse.
She was too far away to hear what the argument was about, but their body language stopped her from finding out. Not exactly riveting stuff, but she watched, devouring her snack-size bag of candy-coated peanuts. The alternative was acknowledging Travis King’s presence—something she was trying very hard not to do.
Luckily, Travis hadn’t tried to make small talk. After his initial nod of greeting, he’d flopped onto the stage with a well-worn paperback novel in his hand. He lay flat on his back, holding his book above him, and was seemingly engrossed in the pages in a matter of minutes.
They’d been slated to have the stage for thirty minutes. That was forty minutes ago. Forty minutes of the crinkle of her wrapper as she crunched away on candy-coated peanuts and the flip-slide of Travis turning the pages of his book and running his thumb down the side to smooth it in place. She knew the cause of the flip-slide sound because, after its fourth occurrence, she’d covertly managed to assess the situation from the corner of her eye…under the cover of reading the back of her candy-coated peanut wrapper.
For reasons unknown, her curiosity hadn’t been satisfied by determining the cause of the sound. Like it or not, her attention lingered on the man lying on the stage. He was too good-looking. Until now, Loretta hadn’t known that was possible. But it was. Even slumming it in ripped jeans, a faded heavy metal band T-shirt, and boots that had seen better days, he looked like something out ofGQ.That hair though…He probably rolled out of bed that way. Careless and irreverent and, honestly, beautiful. It bothered her. A lot.
She didn’t want to be bothered by him. She didn’t want anything to do with him.
What had Johnny seen in Travis?
Once, she’d gone off on the Kings—Travis especially—and Johnny had been quick to come to the other man’s defense. He’d said Travis King had been dealt a shit hand and was doing his best with what he had. But Johnny had always found a way to see the good in a person. Always. Even when they didn’t deserve it. Especially when it came to those he considered a friend. Their time together at the Oasis had made them friends. At least, Johnny had thought so. Johnny’s last stint at rehab before his death. As far as she knew, Travis never reached out to Johnny once he’d left rehab.Not such a good friend after all.
She sighed and pushed off the edge of the stage, anger coursing through her veins.Not the most productive train of thought right now.Twenty-six hours from now, she could shoot Travis King the finger and walk away.And that’s just what I’ll do.The image made her smile.
A burst of sound, a garbled yell, snapped her back to the confrontation still unfolding in the midst of her scheduled rehearsal time. The director’s clipboard went flying. The choreographer laughed.
Loretta glanced Travis’s way. He’d propped himself up on his elbow, causing the muscles in his arm to bulge, to watch the conflict. Eyebrow raised, curls falling onto his forehead, blue-green eyes wide, and the corner of his mouth cocked up. If she took his picture and posted it on Instagram right now, his fangirls would begin a snowstorm of likes and reposts so frenzied they’d probably break the internet.
Whatever.
Irritation renewed, she crumpled up her candy wrapper and shoved it in the pocket of her blue chambray dress. With her snack gone, all she could think about was getting back to her hotel room. Tomorrow would be nonstop. In the morning, she’d have her final fitting for the two gowns selected for her, hair and makeup, and on to the endless red carpet and then the dreaded performance itself.
Tonight, she needed a little decompress time for herself. Las Vegas wasn’t her scene; growing up with her father had removed all interest in gambling or drinking. Her night would be more of the eating-room-service-cheesy-fries in her fluffy white bathrobe while watching her favorite British baking show marathon. To her, that sounded pretty close to perfect. Way better than this, anyway.
Waiting. And waiting.
Travis’s page turning.
The now elevated voices still bickering.
The low roar of conversation and movement as the stage workers prepped all the bells and whistles for tomorrow night.
She walked along the edge of the stage, slowly—like a tight rope. Back and forth, then stared up to count the can lights mounted on the catwalk overhead.
“Miss Gram, Mr. King.” The director, Gabriel Luna, approached. “Please forgive the delay. We are ready now.”
“Oh good.” She didn’t bother hiding her relief.
That was when she realized Travis was watching her. Smiling. Why was he smiling? The smile was irritating. Almost goading—whether or not he knew it. What was his problem? Really? And why didn’t he own a shirt that wasn’t vacuum sealed to his chest? What did he put in his hair to make it look so…so perfect all the time?
The sooner I get back to my room, the better.
“Ready?” Travis asked. “We can wait, if you’re not done doing whatever you were doing.”
She ignored him.Go use all your…charm on someone else.
“With or without music?” Gabriel asked. “We’re a bit behind.”
