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“Your brother’s wife? I quite like her.”
“Yeah. She’ll give you the rundown. You’ll be a professional by the time she’s done with you.”
“Sounds good.” I stood and put my guitar in its case, then handed him the notebook. “You should add some lyrics.”
His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Yeah, I will.”
Standing there, awkward as arse, I tried to think of something to say. “Thanks for coming back down.”
Eyes not meeting mine, he gave a short grunt. “Goodnight, Jamie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I’d never been to a cowboy bar before, but I had to admit I was excited for my first time out. Especially because it meant I got to see Killian let loose and relax a little. Maybe if he let himself have some fun, he’d be able to tap into some of that creativity I knew was waiting just under the surface. Tonight, I had plans as well. I decided to follow Aiden’s advice and put a stop to any gossip about me and the country star. Neither one of us needed that hanging over our heads. We both had plenty we were working on at the moment and romance wasn’t one of them.
As I came down the stairs dressed in my typical outfit of dark jeans, a soft and comfortable vintage band T-shirt, and a leather jacket, it was hard to miss the approving glance Killian gave me before he schooled his expression. He liked what he saw; that much was clear. So did I. The man wore a black T-shirt and a pair of tight-fitting dark Wranglers, but when he snagged his dark Stetson off the rack in the hall and put it on his head, my mouth ran dry. He had no idea how good he looked. I could tell just by the way he self-consciously rubbed at the back of his neck. The man was a mess. But he’s not your mess. I reminded myself. You’ve got to fix yourself before you can help anybody else. That was the advice Jackie had given me. She said it was left over from her days as a flight attendant. Rescue yourself before you rescue anyone else. Because if you don’t, you’ll both die. Perky? No. Positive? Not a chance. True? Fuck yes.
“Will this do?” I asked, holding my arms out and turning around so he could have a full 360 view.
He swallowed and gave me a curt nod before reaching into the bowl on the small table near the front door and snagging a set of keys. “They won’t know what to do with you,” he muttered.
I let out a low laugh. “Good. I don’t want them to. That’s how you keep them interested. Keep them guessing.” I waggled my brows.
He shook his head, but a soft chuckle escaped him. “Let’s go. My brothers are already there. And Sutton already texted me reminding me that they’re paying a babysitter by the hour.”
I got in the truck, thinking about the domestic life his family was leading and how different that was for people like us. On the road all the time. Never really settling down.
“Is that something you want?” I asked after he directed the truck onto the main road that would lead out of this ranch.
“A babysitter?” he asked.
“No. Knobhead. Kids, a family.”
He shook his head letting out a soft huff. “Well, I don’t want a wife. In case you didn’t do your research, let me clue you in. I’m gay.”
“I know that. And you don’t have to have a wife to have kids.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t.”
Heaving a sigh far too heavy for my liking, he gripped the steering wheel, frowned, and then said, “Yeah, maybe. I always pictured myself with a family. I just don’t know how I’m gonna have one without fucking it all up.”
“Why do you assume you’ll fuck it up?”
“If you did all your research, you should know plenty about my dad.”
“Of course. I know all about your dad. Everyone does.”
Wes Wilde had his own reputation, and it wasn’t a good one.
Killian wouldn’t meet my gaze, so I continued. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy.”
“Sure. I know that. Hell, I look at my brothers and their lives and can see it. They’re all settled down and happier than they’ve ever been. Maybe that’s part of the reason I’m here now.”
“You’re looking to settle down?”
“Maybe. My whole life, I’ve been moved from one place to the next. When I was a kid, my mama was too stubborn to take any money from the Wilde family, especially after my dad, shit—he wasn’t really my dad, but I don’t know what else to call him—her husband left.”
“How old were you when he left?”
My heart went out to him. My own parents split up before I was born. Mum was addicted to drugs and by the time I was five, I’d been taken from her because of severe neglect. I never saw her again, because she’d not tried to get me back even once.
