Page 94 of Hideaway Heart

“Inside.”

She looked around. “You really think someone is still out there?”

“I think we have to assume so.”

“And would you be embarrassed to be seen kissing Pixie Hart?”

“Of course not. It’s just nobody’s fucking business. You don’t have to give them that piece of you.”I want all of you to myself.

“You’re right. I don’t.” She smiled. “Let’s go inside.”

* * *

That night, we were invited for dinner over at Austin’s. On the ride over, Kelly seemed distracted. Her hands were in her lap, and she kept scrunching up the material of her dress—this one was white with blue flowers on it, and it had ties on each shoulder and a flirty little skirt. Worried she was having second thoughts about those photographs, I asked her what was on her mind.

“I got a text from my manager while you were in the shower,” she said. “The performance at the Music City Awards is a sure thing. One of the producers got in touch.”

“That’s great news, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but Duke must be in everyone’s ears, because now even my manager wants me to get back to Nashville immediately to start rehearsals.”

“Like when?”

“Like tomorrow.”

“Fuck that,” I said, reluctant to end our private days and nights together. “They want you, they get you when they get you.”

She laughed ruefully. “It doesn’t really work that way if you’re me. I don’t have tons of leverage. And the thing is, it’s not so much about going home three days sooner as it is about not wanting Duke to think he calls the shots for me.”

I thought for a minute. “Have they approved your request to sing as Kelly Jo Sullivan?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, so maybe you offer a deal. You’ll come back to Nashville tomorrow if they approve that request.”

“I could try that.” She pulled her phone from her purse and stared at it. “It feels kind of scary though, to make a demand. They could find a dozen singers to replace me in an instant.” She snapped her fingers, and I grabbed her hand in the air.

“Don’t think like that. Be brave. Stand up for yourself.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll send the text.”

“Good girl.” I kissed her fingers and gave her hand back, and she typed a message.

A minute later, she dropped her phone into her bag. “Done. I sent one message to Wags, Duke, and the producer. Now I need a glass of wine.”

“That can be arranged.”

She looked over at me. “So would you be able to come back to Nashville with me tomorrow? I don’t expect you to.”

“I’ll make it work. I’m going to talk to Veronica tonight about the interviews she conducted this week. I’m hoping to have the hiring done in the next couple days. And Austin found an electrician for me—retired guy, a friend of our dad’s—who said he could finish the work this week. Barstools are scheduled to arrive on Thursday, and I think my brother or dad could handle that. Beer and liquor deliveries are complete. Point of sale system in. A/V is finished. If all goes well, I can still open next Friday night.”

“All will go well,” she said confidently. Her phone lit up, and she looked down. “Fuck. It’s Duke. He’s calling me.”

“Take the call,” I told her, even though my gut told me to grab her phone and throw it out the window. “He can’t hurt you.”

“You’re right. He can’t.” She sat up a little taller and tapped the screen. “Hello?”

TWENTY-ONE