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“You’re uncooperative!”
“I’ll come to New York and try to talk you into something you don’t want to do sometime, and we’ll see how much you enjoy it.”
I exhale an irritated sigh. “Most people don’t consider a multimillion-dollar contract to be such an inconvenience.”
“Most people haven’t experienced what it’s like to live in hotels for months straight and not be able to walk down the street by yourself. Fame sucks. But I didn’t complain. For years, I dealt with the stalkers and the craziness and the exhaustion. Because part of me did love it. But now, I’m done. That chapter of my life is over, and it’s my decision to make.”
“Fine. I won’t mention it again.”
“Fine,” he says. “And while we’re being honest, I think you want that promotion so you can give others the chance you wish someone had given you.”
“You’re wrong.” My response is immediate, but I know it’s something I’ll contemplate later. Because I’ve never considered it that way, and he might have a small point.
Kyle shrugs, like my motivation doesn’t matter to him. “Fine.”
Finally, we reach the top of the wheel. The entire carnival is spread out below, a maze of flashing lights and a crowd of bodies. Kyle looks out at the dazzling sight, his expression contemplative.
“What was your plan?” I ask, forgetting I’m annoyed with him.
He glances at me. “My plan?”
“If you weren’t pursuing music. If you hadn’t gotten signed. What was your plan?”
“I’d be exactly where I am now, working on the ranch.”
“No college? Girlfriend?”
“School wasn’t my thing,” Kyle answers.
“What was yourthing?”
He shrugs. “Spent most of the time hanging out with my friends and drinking beer.”
I scoff. “You werethat guythen? The popular one?”
“I was the guy who thought he had a lot to be mad about.”
Irritation boils over. “You say a lot without ever actually saying anything, you know that?”
He grins suddenly. “If I hadn’t won a few songwriting awards, you’d do a real number on my ego.”
I roll my eyes, registering we’ve finally reached the bottom. I stand right as the cab suddenly swings.
“Sorry!” the attendant calls.
I barely hear him over the sound of my racing pulse. I didn’t fall, so my body should be relaxing.
I should feel relieved.
Instead, my heart rate is thundering at what feels like a thousand beats a second, reacting to the warm, solid press of hands holding me upright.
“You good?”
I clear my throat, attempting to regain a little composure and remove the lump that’s lodged there. To will away the flush creeping across my skin like wildfire. I can’t remember the last time someone’s touch affected me like this, and I’m certain I don’t like it.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
His hands drop away, but I can still feel them. Kyle’s touch lingers like a phantom brand, the skin beneath my dress tingling.
