Page 56 of Playing With My Heart Strings

baylor

The Road Not Taken

Tensions have been high since the concert in Atlanta, yet somehow Dusty chose me to go through to the final week. He’s hardly spoken to me, but he still wants me here for some reason.

After Katherine was eliminated, we traveled back to Nashville.

Valerie had her final date with Dusty yesterday, so today is my final date.

I have no idea what’s in store, but I’m hoping it’s something that allows us to talk and work things out—at least end things amicably as friends.

The secret of my identity is out, and I can’t change that—the show can’t change that—but I would hate to lose Dusty at the end of this because of it.

I can only hope the song I worked on with Charlie was enough to show how devoted I am to this process now.

When I head down to the lobby of the hotel room, the producers are already waiting for me.

“Morning, Baylor.” Alex is the producer on site today, which is odd, because it’s normally someone else. I don’t miss the slight discrepancy in his tone. I’m not sure if that’s because he’s figured out my relationship with Dusty was more than just emotional or if there’s something else going on.

“Hi, Alex.”

“You’re going to meet Dusty at BNA,” he says.

“The airport?” I ask, confused. We were just in Knoxville, so I’m unsure why we’re traveling again when the last concert is here in Nashville.

Maybe you’re finally getting sent home.

That would certainly make the show more dramatic. End it with a real bang by blindsiding me. It’s my own fault for getting tangled up in this web of emotions. I wasn’t supposed to fall for him, I know that. I was supposed to fade into the background after the first couple weeks then get eliminated.

“Yes. I can’t explain much more, Bay. Your car is waiting outside.” Alex practically pushes me out the hotel doors.

When we arrive at the airport, I’m not taken to the main terminal like I expected. And my bags aren’t there waiting for me either. Instead, we pull right up on the tarmac where Dusty—and a private jet—is waiting.

“What are we doing?” I shield my eyes from the sun.

“Thought we’d take a little day trip. It’s a surprise, but I think you’ll like it.

” He takes my hand to lead me over to the stairs to board the plane, and it’s as if any hostility he may have felt for me before has melted away.

Even if it’s a temporary relief, my shoulders relax, and I follow him onboard.

I’ve never been on a private plane before, so I have nothing to compare it to, but Dusty’s is nice . It lives up to the expectations and pictures that movies have painted in my mind. The cream interior is complete with a couch, dining table, lounge chairs, and a flat screen television.

“I know you’re famous, but I guess I didn’t realize how famous you are to have your own plane,” I murmur as I carefully walk on the carpet as if I’ll accidentally ruin something.

He laughs, and I give him a quizzical look.

“It’s not mine . I don’t own it. We usually charter planes for touring, and the company we work with let me book last-minute for today,” he explains, visibly amused.

“What do you mean last-minute? I ask. “Where are the cameras?”

“This wasn’t in the original plan for today’s solo date, but it’s arguably the most important one. No cameras today. Just us.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why are you being so cryptic?”

“You ask a lot of questions, sweetheart. The original plan was to meet with the label.”

“Oh.” If we aren’t doing that anymore, it probably means I’m not making it to the end. I try my best to hide my disappointment, but my heart is sinking like it weighs a thousand pounds.

Dusty smiles in this knowing way, his lips twitching with amusement. “Trust me, this is going to be so much better than sitting in a conference room with Rob Acerra.”

“But you’re not going to tell me what it is?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Can’t ruin the surprise.”

When the plane takes off, neither of us says a word. Then Dusty breaks the silence. “That song you played in Knoxville…”

I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting for him to continue.

“Charlie told me everything after the show. How you went to him. Did you mean what you said?”

“Every word,” I murmur. “I never meant to hurt you. I should have told you the truth from the beginning, but I was scared. Before I joined the show, my job with SSP was my only ticket to something bigger. I never thought I’d actually…

” My voice trails off, even though what I wanted to say was I never thought I’d fall in love. “I was selfish, and I’m sorry.”

“That means a lot. I care about you so much, Baylor. I don’t want to lose you.” He takes my hand and presses his lips to it.

“You won’t. I’m in this for real.”

“By the way, I knew I recognized you.” He raises his eyebrows. “You were filming me that first day. During the interviews.”

I snort. “Daniella wanted to strangle you. For some reason, she let me off the hook and told me to do social media.”

“Believe me, I know. I thought you were a fan. Then I was convinced I’d made you up in my head.” He tilts his chin down, shaking his head with a stupid grin on his face. “I’m glad she took on the interviews, though.”

A laugh falls from my lips as I think about the fact that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Daniella. “Me too.”

About an hour and a half later, we touch down at our destination.

The middle of nowhere.

I shield my eyes from the sun and frown as I step out of the plane. There’s nothing within a three-mile radius except farmland.

“Where are we going?” I ask again, swiveling my head to take in our surroundings.

He shakes his head, pressing his lips together as if suppressing a laugh. “I told you, I can’t say because it would ruin the surprise. We’re not there yet.”

“You’re going to murder me, aren’t you? You’re going to murder me and then dump me in an irrigation ditch,” I grumble as I follow him to a car.

“Yes, Baylor. I’m going to murder you then go back to Nashville alone. Not suspicious at all.” He opens my car door for me, and even though I roll my eyes, I duck my head under the roof rail and slide onto the leather seats.

“Can you at least give me a hint as to where we’re going?” I press, hoping he’ll give me something.

“Such a stubborn woman.” He playfully nudges me with his elbow before dropping his hand on my thigh and giving it a light squeeze.

“I promise I’m not going to murder you, or kidnap you, or do anything illegal.

And we’re not that far away. Pinky swear.

” He closes his other hand into a fist and extends his pinky.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m just not spontaneous.” I pull on my jacket. “And I wasn’t sure if you were upset with me after what happened in Atlanta.” I whisper the last part.

His eyes soften as he lets out a deep sigh. “I’m not upset with you. It was a lot to process at the time, but I’m not upset. Do I wish you hadn’t lied? Yes, but I can understand why you did.”

We maintain steady eye contact. The kind that’s comforting, not invasive.

“I meant what I said that night. It’s not a game to me. It may not have been the case in the beginning, but after getting to know you I realized what I want and that’s this. Us. And I understand if you don’t feel the same, but?—”

Dusty cups my jaw as he leans in, softly pressing his lips against mine. My stomach flutters when he pulls back for a moment before our mouths meld together again, this time with an aching passion. He kisses me like he’s deprived and craving my touch.

“I believe you,” he murmurs against my mouth while cradling the back of my head, slowly stroking my hair.

A few minutes later, we pull off the main highway onto a long gravel road. In the near distance is a white farmhouse with a wraparound porch and a manicured lawn. When we pull up to the house, a golden retriever runs up to the car, tongue lolling.

My eyebrows pinch together. “Is this…?”

“My childhood home? Yes. Come on, you’ve got some very important people to meet.” He opens the door only to get attacked by the dog. And by attacked, I mean with kisses. Dusty beams as he lightly pushes the dog off him. “Hi, girl. Yeah, I missed you, too.”

I exit the car and walk over to where Dusty is still wrestling with his dog. My shoes crunch on the gravel, and the dog’s ears perk up.

“This is Cola. She won’t bite.”

I slowly walk up to the dog, letting her sniff my hand. She deems me acceptable and flops her head into my hand at the same time the front door opens.

“Dusty, what are you doing here? And who is this?” an older woman who I assume is Dusty’s mother walks down the steps then pulls Dusty into a hug.

“Mom, this is Baylor. Baylor, this is my mom.”

I reach out my arm to shake her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Wilder.”

Instead of taking my hand, she pulls me into a hug.

“I’m a hugger, sweetie. You can call me Gen, and it’s lovely to meet you as well.

Come on in, you two. Mitchell is in the back, and you’re just in time for lunch.

” Gen walks back up the stairs and opens the front door as Cola races back inside the house.

Dusty and I exchange smiles as we follow. The Wilder home is bright and welcoming, and I move to take off my shoes when I get in the door.

“Baylor, sweetie, don’t worry about the shoes. Cola tracks in dirt all the time, not to mention how much she sheds. You’ll want to keep them on for that alone, or you’ll be taking home a souvenir in the form of dog hair.” Gen lets out a hearty laugh.

We follow her through the house until we get to a sliding glass door leading out to a back porch and an expansive fenced yard.

“Mitch! Dusty’s home!”

A taller, older version of Dusty spins around from a grill. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s good to see you, son.”

“Dad, this is Baylor. I wanted y’all to meet her.” Dusty’s accent comes out even more here than it does in Nashville.