Page 6 of Hero on the Road
I heard Taylor arguing with the Suits in the background, heard her telling them exactly why this didn’t work and what we wanted. And then I heard her pushing for more money and rights within the contract, which she’d probably already read. I heard her starting to make progress and get concessions from them.
Then the door behind us opened with a creak and one of the Suits said something about wanting to me to meet someone and figure out whether I could play with them.
And when I turned around with the horrible feeling that I already knew exactly how this was going to go, I saw a man I didn’t know walking through the door and smiling brightly at the Suits.
And right behind him, I saw Connor Wheating.
CHAPTER4
Connor
Flabbergasted.
That was the only word for how I felt the moment I looked through the room in front of me and found a familiar pair of enormous blue/gray eyes staring back at me.
At least they looked equally shocked, I guessed. She wasn’t any happier to see me than I was to see her.
Those eyes narrowed then, and I could practically hear her going through idea after idea in her head, trying to figure out what I was doing here and how she was going to get out of whatever situation this was.
Because at the end of the day, that was what Olivia Johns did. She got herself into messy situations and then figured out how to get back out of them before she got hurt. She’d run from Arberry the moment she could afford to, without ever looking back. And she’d done the same thing the morning after the contest, when she’d woken up in my bed and then left without so much as a ‘Hey Connor, I have other plans. Gotta run.’
I’d like to say she ran beforeanyonegot hurt, but that would have been a lie. I’d thought in high school that she was only out to take care of herself and though I’d put a pause on that assumption a couple of times—like when I found out she’d actually been trying to get Parker away from her abusive dad during high school—the idea was in full effect since she’d walked out on me back in Arberry.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, directing my question right at her.
Sure, there were other people in the room who might have been able to answer that question better. But as far as I was concerned, this was between me and her. No one else had the history we did. No one else here had gone out of their way to use me and then leave me.
And if they had, at least I didn’t know about it.
But this girl... she’d grabbed my heart, made it hers, and then stomped all over it.
Look, I was man enough to admit that part of my frustration—part of my anger—was that I had feelings for the girl. I always had. I’d been half in love with her throughout high school, always trying to find ways to run into her in the hallway or help her up the stairs at the football games. I didn’t have much money but I would have paid very good money for a smile from her.
On any day. For any reason.
Unfortunately, she’d spent most of her time acting like she was better than me. She’d been at the center of a group of town kids and they hadn’t had any time for ranch brats like me. I would have paid for a smile, but she didn’t have more than two seconds for me. I saved her once from a group of kids who were bullying her and you would have thought that would have at least made us acquaintances, capable of daily greetings or something.
You would have been wrong.
When she and Parker disappeared the day after our graduation, I wrote her off as a lost cause. Then I moved to Nashville to try to start a music career and she’d been everywhere. Performing at the bars next to the ones where I was performing. Walking down the street laughing with Avery Dawson and Parker Pelton. Popping up in cafés where I was drinking coffee and trying to write.
I moved home to help my parents run the ranch before we had any awkward run-ins. And she’d been there, too. Not on purpose, I didn’t think, but that didn’t change the fact that I hadn’t been able to get away from her. When the contest came up, she asked for access to my music studio for writing.
I’d said yes.
We’d ended up writing together, and I’d lost my heart to her again.
Then she’d run. Again.
As far as I was concerned, that had been her last chance. I didn’t want anything to do with her. And I certainly didn’t want her sitting in on my long-awaited meeting with Atomic about my contract.
Her mouth pursed like she was thinking all the same things I was—possible—and she narrowed those fabulous eyes. And in that moment, I had the unwelcome thought of how beautiful she looked. Shoulder-length red hair, stick straight, highlighted her delicate features and the freckles that covered her nose and cheekbones. Those big eyes could see right into my soul and beyond, if they wanted, and those lips...
I remembered what it had been like to kiss them and the dream from last night came rushing back to me. All the things I’d felt for her in that dreamlike week over Christmas when she was... if not mine, then at least close enough to touch.
We’d done a whole lot more than just touch, and I could still feel her soft skin under my fingertips. I could remember how she’d breathed my name and turned into me. I remembered that she’d saved me up on that stage when she didn’t have to.
I remembered everything. She’d been my hero, that night. And no matter how angry I was at her, some part of me ached to have her back.
