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Kyle’s scowl doesn’t belong to a sympathetic audience, so I doubt mentioning a promotion is on the line will sway him toward signing a new contract. There’s nothing in it for him, and I’m certain he couldn’t care less about how it’ll benefit me. The hard line of his jaw doesn’t suggest he’ll welcome a sales pitch about how much money he’s walking away from.
Beyond those two angles, I’m at a total loss on what to say in response to his statement.
Three words. That’s all I’ve spoken, and I feel like I’ve already failed.
The screen door swings open again, and a middle-aged woman walks out onto the porch to stand beside Kyle. Her long brown hair hangs in a braid over one shoulder, threaded with strands of gray. She glances between me and Kyle, her weathered face giving nothing away.
Her scrutiny lands on me and stays. I resist the strong urge to shift under the intense attention as her gaze focuses on the sheath-style dress that looked cute and professional in the mirror early this morning. She’s wearing worn jeans and an oversize T-shirt that swallows her petite frame with a red-stained apron over it.
His mom? She’s about the right age.
“You from the record label?” the woman asks.
I stumble over a tuft of grass as I step forward, taking the question as the warmest welcome I’ll receive. “Yes! I’m Piper!” My voice comes out too high and too cheery. I wince, the sound grating against my own ears.
Failure isn’t an option. I didn’t take two flights to turn around and head straight back to New York. I might be sweaty and dusty and unwelcome, but I’m no quitter.
Kyle scoffs, and it’s the first time I’ve been grateful for the humidity hanging in the air since I stepped outside the air-conditioned sedan.
My skin is too flushed to reveal any embarrassment.
I’m the youngest of five with four older brothers. I don’t embarrass easily.
And if you’d asked me up until right now, I never would have named Kyle Spencer as a person I’d be intimidated around. He’s always justirritatedme with his effortless charm and obvious affability. Seeing him in this sour, glowering mood—proving he’s human, like the rest of us—is unpleasant. I’d rather consider him as one-dimensional, like his album covers.
I think I’m staring, and I’m not sure how to stop it. It’s still difficult to reconcile the carefree, clean-shaven man I’ve met before with this scowling, stubbled version.
“KYLE!” a deep voice bellows to the left.
I squint in that direction, estimating it’s coming from the massive structure with a pitched roof that I’m guessing is a barn. It’s hard to make out more than the general shape while the sun is burning my eyes. This is afarmfarm, it appears, not just a big plot of land.
The call achieves what my arrival wasn’t able to. Kyle abandons his looming position on the porch, climbing down the steps and pausing a few feet from me.
My muscles twitch with an urge to step away and put some more space between us. He’s still looming, even with less of a height advantage.
“You should leave.”
The qualifier doesn’t reach his tone. The three words sound a lot more like one—leave.
I lift my chin, guessing where his eyes are beneath the shaded brim of his big hat. “You should sign the new contract.”
Kyle scoffs, a low, irritated sound that has me cursing out Carl in my head. Because the clenched line of Kyle’s jaw suggests Carl knew he was sending me off on an impossible mission. And the only thing worse than coming all this way is to do so andfail.
He walks off without another word, leaving me stewing in annoyance and anger. I suck in a deep breath and try to ignore all the spots where sweat is gathering beneath my dress, readjusting to the uncomfortable realization that I was a fool not to consider Kyle could react this way. I was so wrapped up in what this trip would mean formethat I never prepared for this possibility.
I pull another long breath in and then smile at the woman standing on the porch. “Nice to meet you.”
I turn, trudging back toward the parked sedan.
“You’re giving up?”
I still, surprised, then spin back around. Her expression hasn’t changed, and that searching gaze hasn’t shifted either.
“I have a hotel in town. I’ll be back tomorrow.”Not that it will make much difference.
Pessimistic. Also realistic. I’m not giving up. I won’t, not until Carl tells me to. But I’m definitely not feeling great about my odds of success either.
Kyle is gone, but I can still feel the heavy weight of his disapproval lingering in the humid air.
