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Luke smiled at me. “Guess you’d better pull out that old six-string and see if you remember how to play, huh?”
My stomach churned. He was right. I just wondered if I still had the chops to write something worth Jameson Lorde’s time. Something told me the rock god would let me know exactly what he thought of my songwriting skills. Whether I wanted to know or not.
Jameson was playing guitar in my living room when I got home. He’d just moved right in, taken over the guest room—where I’d been staying until Mav moved out—and made it his own. Cocky motherfucker.
But I had to admit, the way he worked his fingers over those frets and wove an intricate melody on the strings was mesmerizing. I just stood there, watching as he played, his head bowed, dark hair falling into his eyes, the muscles in his forearms working in tandem with the notes.
But then he began to sing. It was a song I recognized, one I knew well. Fuck me if I didn’t break out into goosebumps at the sound of his voice. Rich and smooth, with just a hint of smoke behind it. Beautiful couldn’t even describe the sound of him singing. But this man making music in my house was surreal.
He stopped, his head snapping up, and I realized then that I was singing along with him without my knowledge. My mouth just...couldn’t help it.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you.” I fought the hot wave of embarrassment that curled up in my gut. “That’s Trust in You, right?”
His lip twitched, a soft smirk curling one side of his mouth. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and I was that teenager with a crush all over again.
“Yeah. You sounded good singing it.”
My chest tightened. “It’s a really good song. I don’t know why you don’t do more ballads.”
A sarcastic laugh escaped as he stood. “That’s not how this business works, mate. You do what the label tells you. Because when you don’t, you become obsolete. Take it from someone who knows, lad.”
Lad? “I’m not a kid.” I was about to turn thirty, for fuck’s sake. He wasn’t that much older than me, but he had a twenty years of experience on me.
“You are to me.”
“Fuck you. From what I’m seeing, I’m the one who has his shit together, and you’re the sad old rock star who can’t write a hit to save his life.”
His warm brown eyes went cold. “My five platinum records say I can. How’s your band working out for you...kid? From what I hear, you haven’t put anything out worth listening to since your debut. And correct me if I’m wrong, but they ditched you after your name changed.”
I gritted my teeth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? Poor little rich country boy used his daddy’s money to hit it big. It’s amazing what knowing the right people can do to get your career started. All the doors are open for a guy like you. Some of us have to work for it. Sacrifice everything just to get in front of the right people.”
“Fuck, off, Jamie. You don’t know anything about me or my situation.”
He snorted. “I know a hell of a lot about you and guys like you. If you think Wes Wilde didn’t have a hand in getting you signed by Tryst, you’re more naive than I thought.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your daddy paved the way with a check big enough to build a new studio just so the execs would give Big Sky their break.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Aw, don’t take it too hard, mate. Plenty of people got a leg up because they knew the right people. I’m just surprised they kept you on so long after your dad kicked the bucket.”
I felt sick. Not because he was talking about my dad’s death, I hated the man, but because none of it had been real.
“I’m...done with this conversation. Good night, Jameson. If you need…fuck...whatever, I don’t give a shit what you do.”
As I moved to leave, Jamie grabbed me by the elbow, and the touch of his fingers against my skin sent a zing of electricity through me. I jerked out of his hold.
“Where are you going?”
“To my room. I have an early morning. Some of us actually work this ranch, you know.”
“We have to start writing.”
I shook my head and laughed. “You really think I’m inspired to write a single word with you after that conversation?”
