Page 20 of Backup Cowboy
“I planned extra spaces just in case. It was an easy fix.”
You’d never know how irritated Alex was to see Sammie pull in with her entourage. If professionalism could kill, Sammie’s rhinestone boots would be smoking right now.
Alexandra Tate, Vice President of Magnum Records, is kick-ass. She greets each headlining artist personally, briefing them on schedule changes and local media opportunities. She also spots potential brand partnerships with local vendors and hasCal collect contact information to set things up. She creates contingency plans for radio station pull-outs, sponsor conflicts, and artist no-shows in real-time.
She’s fire in sneakers, and I respect the hell out of her.
As the morning flies by, each time I see her give a directive or solve a problem, all I can think about his how she’d look stripped of that control.
I’d lean her against my living room wall, her back to my front, her careful composure finally undone. My hands would wrap around her front, her breath hitching, that sharp mind of hers going quiet for once.
I’d scoop her brown waves off her neck before edging my lips over the shell of her ear, and she’d reach her arms around my neck, trusting me enough to stop being the person that everyone needs and to just be herself.
I’d pin her wrists together with one hand, edging her skirt up with the other. “You like letting go, Boots, don’t you?”
My mouth is hanging open like some starstruck teenager when Nash elbows me in the ribs, jerking my thoughts to the present. “Get it together, man. There’s plenty of time for whatever is going through your head later.” He slaps my back and moves forward to talk with his fellow artist, Taryn, who’s back in town with her full band.
But as Alex looks over at me, her pretty lips part in a smile, I know I won’t be getting it together any time soon.
It’s three hours, several artists, and fifteen tour buses later, and I’m damn near starving, thankful that Hank and Lulu’s dropped off sandwich trays for lunch. We’re eating in shifts to ensure someone’s always at the check-in table to deal with problems. Right now, I’m eating a meatball sub in the practice barn with Alex and Zane and his wife, Capri.
“What do you consider high maintenance, Hot Guy?” Capri shoots a look at her husband, her tone mock-sweet, like honey that’s hiding cayenne.
Zane holds up both hands. “There is no way I can answer this without sleeping on the couch tonight.”
“Name one day when you’ve had to do that.”
“There’s always a first time.” We all laugh as Capri throws a chip at her husband.
They remind me of my sister and Eli. They pretend to argue, but their love for each other is obvious. I think if Zane lost everything tomorrow, Capri would stand right beside him and find a way.
That’s how love is supposed to be. Life throws curveballs all the time. It’s the respect that keeps your partner afloat during the rough times.
Thinking back, my ex Jade didn’t respect me. Like, whenever we went out with our friends, she downplayed my job. It’s as if my working on an oil derrick was beneath her somehow. Didn’t matter that I made good money. I even worked a side hustle to buy her a luxury SUV, but she still wasn’t happy.
I thought her leaving me was my fault. Like I didn’t do enough for her or work hard enough for us. I even went back to school part time to get a degree in land management, thinking it would make her respect me more. But after my buddy’s accident, she couldn’t handle my guilt. She left with all our things and never looked back. That’s why I’m in the Hill Country now.
Loud laughter pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see Alex watching me. She kicks my foot, her eyes widening. I nod, thankful for the reprieve from my past. Her smile softens, just for a second, before she turns back to her sandwich.
With a sharp creak, the barn door opens and in walks Sammie Clarke. She’s changed into a tight white tank, denim shorts, and bright pink boots, with rhinestones of course, her brandsignature. She’s wearing a turquoise bandana around her wrist, her hair newly curled like she’s ready for a meet-and-greet.
“Hey, y’all!” She sashays toward us, hands in her back pockets, hips working. “The setup is so great here. I’m a festival headlining virgin.” Her chocolate brown eyes catch mine, the innuendo obvious.
We all laugh perfunctorily although Alex’s business smile has a sharp edge.
“Glad you could be here, Sammie.” Her words don’t quite reach her eyes, and a surge of pride bursts in my gut to know that Alex is jealous. Again.
The woman struts over to the couch where I’m sitting, plops down next to me, and snatches the cowboy hat right off my head.
“How do I look, Caspian?” Her long, fake eyelashes blink as she bites her lip.
Damn. A meatball gets stuck in my throat, forcing me to cough several times to clear it. I opt for drinking my sweet tea instead of answering when Sammie places a long-nailed hand on my arm.
“Are you okay?” The way she chirps, her drawl so syrupy and pitched up, I wonder if she practices in front of a mirror.
Alex and I are on the same page because her eyebrow quirks up. I opt for silence because Zane was right. There’s nothing I can say here that won’t get me into trouble with somebody.
“Sammie,” Capri starts in a sunny voice, “what can we help you with?”