Page 15 of Wingwoman
I leaned into her ear, whispering, careful not to compete with his genius words or crooning voice. “Willie Nelson has a song for every life event imaginable. Whatever you’re going through, he’s got a song for it. He can cut through boundaries and burrow into anyone’s soul. He’s the musician that taught me how much power we have in creating songs.”
She blinked open, looking at me with wide eyes. “You learned from Willie Nelson?”
I couldn’t help my grin. It was such a naïve question. “Not personally. But listening to his music taught me more than any guitar lesson my mama and daddy ever paid for.”
She stared at me thoughtfully as the song Buddy came to an end. The people slow dancing on the floor erupted in applause—even just for a jukebox song. “Have you met him? Now that you’re…you know…famous?”
She said the word with such disdain, that it brought all kinds of questions to the forefront of my mind.
“Briefly, once. He was amazing. Kind, generous. Every year, I want to invite him to this benefit thing I do at the ranch. He’s a huge Texas fan and supporter—maybe the biggest, but I always chicken out.”
Her brows creased. “Hard to imagine you chickening out on anything.”
“I know,” I said, exaggerating. “I’m so damn manly, right?”
She laughed and handed me back my whiskey. “Exactly.”
“What about you?” I asked. “What’s your story?”
“You’re not paying me to learn aboutmyhistory—”
“Hey,” I interrupted, “it’s my money. Let me spend it how I want to.”
She rolled her eyes again, but this time a smile crept in. “I live in New York City. My dad’s getting married in a couple of months, so I came down early to uh… to help him with the last minute planning and stuff.”
This time I did narrow my gaze at her. “You came down two months early?”
She nodded, but avoided my gaze. “Yep. I’ll head back after their honeymoon.”
Something wasn’t right. Coming down a couple weeks to help before a wedding made sense. Or flying in and out for the various events—bridal showers, bachelorette parties, and what have you. But two months?
I studied her, raking my gaze over her face then down her body. My eyes landed on her hands which were twisting around each other.
Or rather, more specifically, she was rubbing at her left ring finger. Herbareleft ring finger. Which had a slightly paler hue in a small ring near her knuckle as though she’d recently taken off a ring.
I brought my eyes back to hers which were now staring down at her drink. “Bad break up, huh?” It wasn’t really a question, though. I already knew the answer. And based on her sigh, she knew I knew.
“Bad doesn’t even begin to define it.”
“Is he a cheating bastard?”
She swallowed and circled her fingertip over the edge of the straw, now rimmed with pink lipstick. “Yep. With another Broadway actress. Someone who could help his career, I guess.”
Fucking bastard. I was a lot of things, but I was no cheater. “So, you came here to escape him.” Again, not a question.
“That was one reason. Only—” she stopped herself and shook her head. “No. Tonight’s about you. Finding your muse. Not me and my stupid engagement.”
“Come on. I’maskingyou. It’ll be easier for me to open up if you do the same.”
After a long pause, she blew out a tight breath through pressed lips. Then, grabbing her Texas Tea, she took a long sip through the reed straw. “Fine,” she said on an exhale. “He’s a Broadway actor. A well-known one. I mean, he’s not as well known asyou, but by Broadway standards, he’s famous. Everywhere I go, there are billboards featuring whatever new show he’s in. He’s interviewed on talk shows, performs at the Tonys and on Good Morning America. Bars and restaurants have his signed headshot framed on the walls. Not to mention, all the everyday memories. The restaurant where he proposed. The coffee shop where we would read together every Sunday. The karaoke bar where he’d always kick everyone’s ass and out-sing them.”
I almost snorted.I dare him to try to out-sing me.
But one look at her eyes welling with tears and I kept that thought to myself. She rubbed her lips together just before clamping her eyes shut. Then, just like that, after a couple deep breaths, she opened her eyes and the tears had vanished. “Anyway. That’s my saga. It sucks, but it’s nothing special. Nothing that plenty of other men and women haven’t gone through before. I’ll be fine.”
But there was something in how she saidfine. I had no doubts she would be fine. But the resolute way she stated it suggested something darker. Like she had vowed to be fine at any or all cost. “Sounds like he was into his own fame a bit too much.”
She arched a brow at me. “I haven’t met a celebrity who isn’t.”
