Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“I did, but I don’t wanna discuss it.”
His voice is rough and ragged.
My heart swells with pain for him.
“I understand,” I say. “Do you have any family in the club?”
“My brother is the President.”
“Oh, wow,” I say, intrigued. “Are you two close?”
“Close as brothers can be.”
I smile. “That’s so nice.”
“You got any siblings?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s just me. My parents never had any more after me. I’m not really sure why.”
“Your parents still alive?” he asks, turning slightly toward me.
“Yeah, they are, but ... I don’t speak to them as much as I should.”
“Why not?”
I grin. “So many questions.”
He winks at me. And my heart does more stupid things in my chest.
“I guess ... I don’t know ... I got famous and, well, I resented them a little. I distanced myself. I kind of blamed them for putting me in the spotlight. They pushed.”
“You didn’t want to sing?” he asks, rubbing the stubble on his chin and making me want to run my fingers over it.
“No, I did. I loved singing. It just wasn’t really the path I wanted to take. I wanted to take over their ranch and spend my days running it and breeding horses. A stupid dream, but a dream all the same.”
“It isn’t stupid. Nothin’ wrong with knowin’ what you want. You could still do that, couldn’t you?”
I shake my head. “I own the ranch now; I bought it off them when they decided to move closer to town. I pay people to run and live on it. When I go home, I stay at a little cottage down the back we used to have for guests. I love being there. It’s my home. It’s my passion. But I don’t get time for it. Even when I’m not touring I’m recording albums or writing songs. There is always something to be done. My life never stops.”
He studies me for a while. “Sorry to hear that. Everyone should be able to follow the path they are passionate about.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I say softly, “I’m grateful for my career. It changed my life. It allowed me to own my ranch. It affords me the lifestyle I have, and I do love to sing, I always did. But this life, all the time, the constant rushing around, not being able to just walk down a street without being noticed, it’s exhausting. The demand is huge.”
“I can imagine, it isn’t somethin’ I’d do well with. I don’t like people.”
I giggle. “For someone who doesn’t like people, you stand front and center at my shows surrounded by them.”
His eyes lock on mine. “Your voice, you—it takes me to a good place, sweetheart. A place where I feel good inside. It’s captivatin’. So, I don’t like those people around me, but I don’t give a fuck because, honestly, all I can hear is you.”
Dammit.
That’s so god damned nice.
My chest aches.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice low. “That really means a lot to me.”
He flashes me another smile then stands, slapping his hands on his knees as he does. “Love to stay, but I have somewhere to be. Was nice talkin’ to you, Scarlett.”
The way he just said my name made my heart lodge right up there in my throat.
That feeling. God. So good.
“Thanks for coming and talking to me, and of course coming to my show.”
He winks at me, then puts one booted foot forward and sweeps down, pressing a rough kiss to my forehead. His stubble scratches my skin, but he smells incredible, and my body freezes in the intensity of it all. I close my eyes and try to take in how his lips feel there against my skin, the way his scent invades my senses, the way my body goes into overdrive and my skin prickles.
Yes.
“Night,” he murmurs, then steps back.
I swallow and look up at him. “Goodnight, Maverick.”
He grins.
Then he launches his big body over the railing and disappears into the night.
And my heart stays right there, firmly lodged in my throat.
Yes.
Incredible.
-8-
MAVERICK
I’m here again. Fuck knows it takes a lot of patience. But hearing her voice, it drags me into this packed stadium every time she plays just so I can relish in how it makes me feel for one day longer. Tonight, she’s on stage, wearing a pair of tight-as-fuck jeans with a black sparkly top that shows off way too much cleavage. The urge to jump on the stage, throw her over my shoulder, and haul her out of prying eyes is almost too much to control. Her blond hair is down, flowing in fucking sweet little ringlets, and that voice.
Always that fucking angel voice.
The show is nearly finished, and right now she’s standing there, lights shining down on her beautiful body, eyes closed, swaying side to side and she sings into the microphone she’s holding with two hands up to her mouth. No matter how hard this career is on her, or how lonely she feels sometimes, when she’s on that stage she lets passion shine through. It’s written right there for the world to see, to feel, to experience. She lets them into her soul. She makes sure they become part of her world.