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He smiled and slid his hand onto her hip, giving it a squeeze. “For as long as you want me.”
She smiled, a pang of sadness going through her.
If only that were the case.
Reluctantly, she stepped back and let him go into the recording room to set everything up. When he returned, he leaned over the mic. “Reagan, this is going to be all you, sweetheart. You’ll hear the back tracks in your headphones. Let’s just do the vocal alone first. Then we’ll tape some of the background parts with the rest of y’all.”
Rae gave a nervous nod through the glass, and Oakley sent her a thumbs-up. Pike flipped a few switches and the music filled the small space, saving them the trouble of headphones this time. He pointed at Rae and gave her the cue.
Reagan leaned close to the microphone, lips almost against it, and closed her eyes. Then the sweet strength of her voice filled the speakers around Oakley. She could barely stand to look at her baby and not cry. Her girl was so beautifully talented and brave. Eleven years old and singing with the conviction of a seasoned pro.
Pike looked over at Oakley. “You’ve done good, mama. She was born to sing.”
“I’ll say,” said a voice behind them. “Damn.”
Oakley startled at the interruption and turned, finding Braxton smiling their way. Geoff and another man were walking in behind him.
Pike rolled his chair back and stood. “Hey, you’re early.”
Braxton crooked a thumb. “Mr. Garrett came in on an earlier flight. Thought we’d check to see if y’all are wrapping up.”
Oakley stiffened at the words. The name. She rose out of her chair like it’d caught fire.
“Yeah, grabbed a direct instead of that route that stops in Albuquerque. Hope it’s not a problem.” The stranger stepped around Braxton and into the low light of the room. He held his hand out to Pike. “Liam Garrett. Nice to meet you.”
Oakley couldn’t move. Liam. Her daughter’s voice rang through the room, and the man who’d fathered her stood steps away. Everything inside her went cold and still.
“Pike Ryland. Great to meet you.” Pike shook Liam’s hand firmly. Then he cocked his head toward Oakley. “And this is Oakley Easton. She’s here working on a charity project with me. We were just finishing up.”
Liam’s gaze snapped her way, and she was almost surprised he remembered her real name. When they’d been together, he’d called her by her stage name, had told her it’d help her get used to answering to that name.
She felt frozen to the spot, all the anxiety from her teen self surging in her and making her throat want to close. Her muscles wouldn’t move.
“Kris?” he said softly.
Pike frowned her way. “No, it’s Oakley.”
But Liam wasn’t listening. He walked over to her. She’d always remembered him as this tall, imposing figure—intimidating. And though he still carried himself with that air, she now saw that he was shorter than Pike and not nearly as formidable. He was still attractive, his shoulder-length dark hair now shot with streaks of silver, but her stomach turned at the thought that she used to let this man touch her.
He stopped in front of her and shook his head. “It is you, isn’t it?” His gaze raked over her, making her want to put some furniture between them. “I can’t believe it. Still as beautiful as can be.”
She swallowed past the constriction in her throat. “Liam.”
“You two know each other?” Pike asked, frown deep.
Oakley’s attention slid Pike’s way. And as if he could read her mind, awareness dawned on his face. He wet his lips and looked toward Reagan, who was hitting the final verse of the song.
Panic was a living, breathing thing in her, but she needed Liam to not focus on the kids. She forced a smile. “Yes, we used to work together a very long time ago.”
Liam’s gaze held hers, and she could see it there—that old possessiveness. “Yes, very closely.”
She wanted to vomit right on his expensive Italian leather shoes.
Braxton, completely unaware of the tension, grinned Oakley’s way. “How’s that?”
Liam tucked his hands in his slacks and rocked back on his heels, but his attention never left Oakley. “What? She didn’t tell you. Kris was going to be a big star. Best singer we had in Pop Luck.”
“Holy shit,” Geoff said, coming up behind Braxton. “You were in that girl group?”
