“I am fine.” Tawny eyes flashed and those rosy full lips pressed into a tight, flat line.
“I see that.” His gaze snagged on her lips. Her mouth. Damn, but she was a fine-looking woman. “Now, anyway.” Damn, but he liked looking at her.
She must have picked up on that, because she was back to glaring at him. “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work so you might as well save your energy.”
“Okay.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just so I know, what am I trying to do?”
“What it is that Travis King always does.” One eyebrow arched high. “I thought I’d made it clear I’m not interested.”
Oh, she’d made it clear, all right. But he wasn’t sure what the “What Travis King always does” comment meant.
Her cheeks went fire engine red. “So, you and your hair and your smile and your tight shirts and all your…your…you can just…stop.”
She had his full attention now. For a woman so hell-bent on making sure he knew how much she didn’t like him, she seemed awfully flustered by him. Good damn thing, because she got under his skin too. Her words, her blush, and the way her gaze fell away from his when the air between them grew charged.
But she rallied. With a toss of her head, she unloaded on him. “I know this whole comeback thing is a stunt. I hate being a part of it. I’ll be glad when the awards show is over and done with and I can remove myself from the whole damn mess.”
He wasn’t sure which stunt she was talking about. His father’s misguided attempt to build up his son’s confidence by having Travis stand in for him? The shameless way Wheelhouse Records had capitalized on the performance as his comeback? Or maybe she recognized him for the overall imposter he was.
She kept going. “Tomorrow isn’t about you—”
“You think I don’t know that? Or that I want it to be?” Travis’s laugh was forced. “I know you have a low opinion of me, Loretta, but I’d never do anything to sabotage our performance tomorrow night. You have my word.”
Her expression hardened. “You might mean that. But we both know that you’re not in control. As long as you’re drinking, your word doesn’t mean a thing.” She pulled the door open, shot him a parting glare, and left before he had time to fully grasp what she’d just said.
Are you kidding me? What the hell was she talking about?
The whole stunt comment had been about his sobriety? This was bullshit. Her attitude was bullshit and her words left a bad taste in his mouth. She didn’t know him, but that hadn’t stopped her from judging him. And it pissed him off. Every day, he made the conscious decision to stay sober. Every day, he had to fight off the self-doubt he’d never quite silenced. Every fucking day, he had to overcome self-loathing for hurting those he loved.
He ran his fingers through his hair, the blood roaring in his ears, and left through the same door Loretta had used.
He didn’t catch her—hell, he didn’t see her. Probably for the best. She must have sprinted out of there. It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to see her tomorrow. And, whether she liked him or not, he was going to set her straight.
“We leaving?” Travis’s bodyguard, Sawyer, was waiting just outside the door.
“Yeah.” Travis slipped his sunglasses on, still agitated.
“Guess rehearsal went well?” Sawyer asked, his expression as deadpan as ever.
Travis laughed. “Sure.”
“Next?” Sawyer asked, his gaze sweeping the distance between the side door and the waiting black SUV.
“Gym?” He didn’t care that he’d already worked out this morning. After this, he was too worked up.
“Ready?” Sawyer shot him a quick look, then nodded. “There’s not too many waiting.”
Fans. Travis nodded. Not Three King–specific fans—they wouldn’t know he was rehearsing. Not that it mattered. These were the sort of die-hard fans that stood under the Las Vegas sun hoping to get a selfie or autograph with someone famous. He rolled his head, pasted on his smile, and nodded. “Ready.”
Sawyer opened the door, and his black King’s Guard shirt caused a series of overlapping questions. “Who is it?” and “Is it Three Kings?” plus several “Is it Hank King?”
Nope. It’s just me. He hesitated, steeling himself for the reaction to come. Once this new tour had been set, he’d been plagued by nightmares. All his fans turning on him, yelling insults or booing him… So far that hadn’t happened, but it didn’t stop him from bracing for just that. You brought this on yourself. Now, grow a pair.
There was a lull as the crowd outside waited to see who was emerging, but the moment he set foot on the blinding white concrete parking lot, the screams began.
“Travis. It’s Travis!” The shriek set off a crescendo of screams.
Smile, Trav. He could hear Emmy Lou in his head. They love you. Give them the best version of you.
“How are y’all doing?” he drawled, sliding off his sunglasses and giving them his best smile.
“You’re here.” A teen with pink hair, a nose ring, and a brightly colored tattoo sleeve started sobbing. “You are really here.”
Since there wasn’t much to say to that, he winked and took the pen and notebook being shoved his way.
He posed for at least a dozen selfies. Sawyer handed over a second permanent marker when he’d made it halfway from the exit to the car. He scribbled his name on autograph books, shirts, a shoe, and several arms by the time he reached the car. With a final wave and smile, he climbed into the black suburban—to find both of his sisters sitting on the opposite seat.
“You made it.” Krystal said, glancing through the darkly tinted windows. “For a minute there, I thought that soccer mom was taking you down.”
Travis had to smile. “You know how partial I am to soccer moms.”
Sawyer climbed into the front passenger side, his gaze flitting to the rearview mirror. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to find the other two members of Three Kings aboard or he wouldn’t be wearing that look. For Sawyer, the slight eye-narrow headshake combo was about as close to surprise as it came.
“Yeah. Surprise?” Travis sighed. “As my bodyguard, shouldn’t this sort of thing not happen? Not without you knowing about it, anyway.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “That way, I don’t know, you could stop them?”
“Sawyer knows we’re not dangerous.” Emmy Lou leaned forward to pat Travis on the knee.
Sawyer’s eyebrow shot up.