“What?” she snapped.
His smile dimmed, a crease forming between his brows as he asked, “Which stool?” He pointed at the stools arranged, mics at the ready, surrounded by the floating walls used for optimal acoustics. “Lady’s choice.”
Choice?That was a joke. Herchoicewas to walk out. Or take all the anger she’d been boxing up inside and lethimhave it. Yelling. A few select curse words. Lots of finger pointing—a few solid jabs square in the middle of the well-sculpted chest his skin-tight grey T-shirt clung to. She’d put him in his place and wipe that smile from his too handsome face and, maybe—hopefully, finally—feel some relief.
“You okay?” His voice was low and concerned. Or was that sympathy?
No. Not really.But she wasn’t about to let him know he’d gotten under her skin. He already thought the world revolved around him—she wasn’t going to feed his ego. “Fine.” She would be fine. All she had to do was get through the awards show. “Left,” she said, crossing the hardwood floor. She picked up the waiting headset, took her seat, and waited for him to take his spot.
The sooner this is done, the faster she could leave.
Travis took his seat opposite and put his headset on. Eyes glued to the music, he flipped through the pages, took a deep breath, and ran his fingers through his hair. Another deep breath and he pressed his hands against the tops of his thighs, agitated.
The pills were kicking in.
“Ready?” Hank’s voice echoed in her ears.
At their nod, the rising swell of music demanded one hundred percent of her attention.
It was split, the verses split—two lines for Loretta, two lines for Travis. The chorus, they sang together.
Day breaks, the sun rising in the sky.
At work, my life is one big damn lie.
Loretta resisted the urge to look at her singing partner. She knew how magical collaborating could be… But this wasn’t Johnny. The sharp twist of her heart reminded her of that.
Hours pass, and there’s still no end in sight.
Promised you, not to give up on the fight.
Travis King might be an alcohol-addicted pretty boy set firmly on the road to self-destruction, but he could sing.
But all your words are now the song left in my head.
And all your smiles are brightest when I’m in our bed.
Loretta closed her eyes, hoping to blot out a memory of Johnny’s smile.
I get up and go out and live each day.
Couldn’t know losing you would hurt this way.
The rasp in Travis’s voice rolled over the words, the last three gruff and thick and laden with emotion so pure no one could manufacture it.
Somehow, they were singing together now. Somehow, she’d made the mistake of looking his way. And now, the words became a melody—all while his blue-green eyes held her gaze.
So, I’ll hold you closer.
Keep you warm in my heart.
Your name is a whisper.
Until we’re not apart.
She tore her gaze from his before the next verse picked up. Maybe this wouldn’t be a train wreck of a performance after all. As long as he sang from the heart, as long as she kept her cool, they might just be able to pull it off. And then? She’d move on and Travis King and each and every one of his bad mistakes would go back to being tomorrow’s scandalous headline for the entertainment tabloids.
***
