I took a single step back, needing to readjust my brain, my body, my thoughts. All of it.
“So, we’re going to The Wheel tonight?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” The uncertainty was there; it was just masked by his cockiness.
“Ha,” I huffed. “No, cowboy. Not a date. Just a few drinks with some friends.”
“You can call it whatever you want, but I’m gonna call it a date. And yes, I’d love to go.”
“Great,” I said, peering down at the time illuminated on my screen. “That means we’ve got a few hours to get some actual work done.” I stuffed my phone back into my pocket and hightailed it back to Cheyenne, knowing damn well that if I didn’t get my ass on that horse and get out of there, there was no telling what would happen.
“Last one to the barn has to buy the first round,” I shouted.
“You might as well take your time, because either way, I’m a gentleman, and I’ll be buying all the rounds tonight,” he shouted back, but I was already in the saddle and headed for the trail.
I didn’t mind being a little ahead of him; it gave me a chance to think. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to kiss him—because trust me, I did. But now, between knowing the truth about why he was in Quincey Falls and hiding the history of my life that I’d held hostage for over a decade, things just got a whole lot messier.
Chapter Twenty-One
Surprisingly, the next few hours were spentactuallyworking.
We’d worked mostly on another song idea that Stetson had been messing around with. One that depicted a young boy growing up in his small town, due south of Nashville, with a population of less than 2,000.
Through a slow and therapeutic tune, it illustrated a life full of love, happiness, and parents that would do anything for their only child’s dreams. A child who wanted for absolutely nothing, but only at the expense of his parents who both worked blue collar jobs and picked up other odds jobs on the side to create a sense of stability for their son. A stability that instilled hard work, responsibility, and respect, but also fueled his dreams of becoming a country artist.
The song was called “Only Child.”
It was catchy and real; the lyrics were laced with vulnerability and nostalgia, providing me with even more insight into exactly who Stetson was and how he became Stetson Walker, the country music star who so many people adored.
It was an honor to watch the words of a song play out like a movie. A movie about how one man could be raised up right but still lose touch with his values and beliefs in the blink of an eye. How a quick shot to the top made him basically unrecognizable. Was fame really that wicked? And was the loss of his best friend the gut-wrenching wake-up call he needed to put things into perspective and revive his old self and pull himself out of the darkness?
I feverishly scribbled in my journal, saving questions, thoughts, and snippets of ideas for later so I wouldn’t lose the little strands of inspiration that danced around my head as I invested myself in the ending.
As I sat in the control room, I watched him in his element, strumming his guitar, scribbling words down on a small piece of paper in front of him, and it was only then that I realized I was witnessing the evolution of this man. The fascinating story of how he went from the boy in the song to the twenty-some kid in the headlines to the man sitting right in front of me.
The man who, despite my previous notions, I was beginning to admire, and that scared the hell out of me.
Especiallynow.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, then tossed the pen onto the table in front of him. “It’s been a hard day’s work, I think we both deserve a drink.”
The words left his mouth and entered my sphere, reeling me back into focus, back into the present.
“I have to admit, that was impressive. I was not expecting you to crank out basically an entire song—and a really good one at that—in such a short amount of time,” I said, noticing how my compliment changed his posture.
“You’d be surprised what I can do in a short amount of time.” His suggestive tone once again sparked the tiny fire in my belly that desperately wanted to be lit.
I quickly doused it with water. Not now. Not yet.
“I can only imagine.” The sarcasm in my voice danced around the subject as I plucked my bag from the ground. “Too bad we have somewhere we need to be.”
I threw my bag over my shoulder and moved to the door, knowing I had to tread lightly. He’d allowed me to see so much more of him today, the side of him that had started to allow all the pieces to fall into place, and that was enough to have me forgetting everything else.
His guitar case clicked shut behind me, and within seconds I could smell his familiar, intoxicating scent surrounding me as he stood directly behind me.
Subconsciously, I reached for the doorknob and twisted it, but didn’t get the door open before his hand overpowered mine.
My body was paralyzed waiting for his next move.
