Chapter One

Pierce

“You’ve got a lot of work to do, Son.”

I wasn’t his son, and I was done taking his shitty advice. A year ago, he’d told me to break up with my girl, and now he was telling me to rework the album I wrote to help me get over the pain of losing her? Fuck him. I wasn’t changing a single word on that album.

“I disagree.” I reached for my bottled water. I was sick of tasteless shit that did nothing to soothe the beast raging inside of me, but I knew if I slipped back inside another brown bottle I’d never crawl out. Then I’d have thrown away the best thing that ever happened to me for nothing.

Music was all I had left. I woke up every morning telling myself it still mattered, but every night I fell asleep convinced it didn’t. Nothing mattered to me anymore. So much so that I’d even written a song about it. Another sad country song about a dumbass guy who fucks everything up and watches the woman he loves walk out the door.

I usually didn’t write shit like that. My music was sexy, edgy. It was that cross between talking and singing to my audience that country music fans had been eating up ever since they heard my unique sound.

“Well, the label wants you to change it. And you know we got to make them happy.”

I didn’t care about making anyone happy. Except for Keira. I’d do just about anything for a chance to make her happy again. As soon as I’d realized what a huge mistake I’d made, I tried calling. Texted a dozen times a day. Sent her emails with attachments of the songs I’d written for her. I’d even been stupid enough to hop on a plane and show up at her house. Her big brother—the cop—came out wielding a billy club and told me to get off their property before he hauled my ass downtown. But for all my efforts, I never heard a word from her.

“I make the music I want to make or I find another label.” A few years ago, I wouldn’t have thought of pushing my label, but now I was the hottest ticket in Music City and had labels beating a path to my door. I wasn’t being arrogant, but I knew the deal. They pushed and I pushed back.

“Why’re you so hard to get along with lately?” my manager asked, rubbing the back of his neck while sweat beaded on his forehead. “This music ain’t you, man. You got famous off those party tunes. Not this depressing shit.”

My new music reflected my state of mind and being depressed pretty much summed it up. I’d never understood it before when people complained about being down. I thought it was a choice. I used to believe you decided how you felt, whether you were up or down, but I was wrong. I had no control over the darkness. I’d tried to step into the light dozens of times, but the darkness always lured me back.

“I’m an artist,” I said, between gritted teeth. “I write from the heart, Len. This is the way I’m feeling now, what I’m going through. If the label doesn’t want to put this out, well, they ain’t gonna get anything else from me.” I was done—emotionally and physically exhausted.

“If I’d known it was gonna affect you like this, I never woulda told you to break up with that little girl.” He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and cut the tip off over his empty take-out coffee cup. He gripped it between his teeth before lighting it and taking a deep pull. “I really thought I was doin’ ya both a favor. I been around this business a long time, seen too many couples break up ‘cause the spouse wasn’t cut out for this life. I was just tryin’ ta save y’all from that.”

I believed Len’s heart had been in the right place when he told me to put my career first and to break up with Keira. Now I had no one else to blame for this mess and my depressed state. This was all on me.

“Hey Pierce, I—” My younger brother, Trevor, who was one of my song-writing partners and my lead guitarist, stopped short when he saw my manager sitting on my back patio with me. “Sorry, didn’t know you guys were in a meeting.”

“No problem,” Len said, waving off his concern. “Maybe you can talk some sense into your thick-headed brother. He’s determined to put this album out the way it is, and I’m tellin’ him we need to swap out some of the songs. Put in a few more upbeat ones—the kind people will wanna dance to at your concerts.”

I had plenty of “dance tunes” in my catalog. But I didn’t want to watch happy people dancing in the aisles while I was miserable. I didn’t want to see couples grinding on each other. Ugh! I fucking hated happy couples.

“He might have a point there,” my brother said, smoothing a hand over his beard. “Couldn’t hurt to see what else we can come up with.”

He hadn’t had a hand in writing the songs for this album and I knew it stung, but I told him this was something I needed to do on my own. My way of working through my shit. Not that it had helped. Nothing helped.

“That’s the spirit,” Len said, standing and slapping my brother on the back. “Hey, I have an idea. What don’t you boys go away somewhere for a few weeks, get a change of scenery, see if you can’t knock this out?”

“Len, I already told you,” I said, tightening my grip on the water bottle, hearing the crackle of plastic under the weight of my death grip. “I am not swapping out those songs.”

“I’m not sayin’ they’re bad,” he said, taking a long pull of his cigar. “They’re good. Every last one of ‘em. But you can’t put that many ballads on an album. It just doesn’t work.”

Logically I knew he was right. I could see where the label was coming from. They wanted the music my fans wanted to hear, the stuff that had gotten me to the top of the charts. But I’d gotten there being real with people—writing and singing the songs that felt authentic to me. And that’s what I was trying to do now. Whether they liked it or not.

“Save some of ‘em for your next album, Pierce. That’ll save you some work down the line.”

“Let me talk to him,” Trevor said, gripping Len’s shoulder. “I think I’ve got an idea that might change his mind.”

“All right,” he said, patting his beer belly after tipping his cowboy hat back. “But I expect you to call me with good news,” he said, pointing at Trevor.

I waited until Len was gone before I said, “I don’t care what he says. I don’t care what you say. And I don’t care what the fucking label says. I’m not changin’ it.”

“Len was right about one thing,” Trev said, rocking back on the heels of his worn cowboy boots. “Change of scenery might do you some good.”

A vacation was the last thing I needed. I traveled all over the world. I’d visited every continent on the planet. And it didn’t matter where I was. I always thought of her.

“I don’t think so.”

“Mama’s been on us about payin’ her a visit for a while now,” he said, shooting me a meaningful look.

Mama lived in our hometown. In Kiera’s hometown. This was my chance to right my wrongs and talk to Keira. Yeah, I could get on board with a vacation. “Okay, just let me jump in the shower.”

He laughed. “You mean you want to go now?”

“Why not?” I’d already wasted enough time.

***

Keira

I was dead on my feet, but it was a Friday night and tips were good, so I wasn’t going home anytime soon. My parents hated that I was working at the local watering hole, but I reasoned it had live music and some of the folks from church even liked to come in and unwind after a long week working the fields. That seemed to appease them a little bit.

I was taking online college classes so I could be a bookkeeper for some of the local businesses. I’d always found numbers soothing. Numbers didn’t lie. Numbers didn’t cheat. Numbers were transparent. They always made sense. You just had to know how to manipulate them. Manipulation. Something he’d been a master at. Ugh! Even numbers made me think about that lying, cheating sack of shit!

It had been a year and my sister had been wrong. I’d gone out with plenty of men—even slept with a couple—but they hadn’t helped me forget him. I was beginning to think nothing and no one ever would.

“Oh my God, I love this song!” My best friend Carolyn shrieked and ran to the sound system to turn it up. The band had taken a break, and the old-school jukebox was on the fritz again, so Carolyn offered to bring in her portable speaker and stream music from her iPod.

“You little bitch.” I glared at her, one hand on my hip, the other clutching a tray. “I thought you said you deleted all of his songs!”

“Except for this one,” she said, pouting. “I couldn’t delete this one. He wrote it for you, remember? The night y’all…” Her voice drifted off as her gaze looked away from me.

I was pretty sure there was fire coming out of my ears when I shouted, “You think I need you to remind me—”

“Hey now,” Roy said, interrupting my rant and putting a finger to his lips. “Simmer down. This is a place of business. Save the bickerin’ for your breaks when you aren’t around the customers.”

I knew I’d regret working with my best friend. Her Uncle Roy and Aunt Agnes owned the place, and Carolyn had been working there since she turned twenty-one, claiming it was a stepping stone on her way to stardom. She thought she was going to get a big recording contract just like Pierce had. He’d fooled a lot of people into believing it was smart to chase your dreams. Me included. The asshole.

“Sorry,” Carolyn muttered to her uncle as she dashed to the iPod to select another song. “You too,” she said, lifting her chin in apology to me. “I just keep thinkin’ one day it’ll get easier, ya know? You’ll hear one of his songs and not get this look on your face like someone’s trying to cut your heart out with broken glass.”

I kept waiting for that day too. But so far it hadn’t come, and I wasn’t sure it would anytime soon.

“How was your date last night?” Carolyn asked, filling her tray with a pitcher of beer and half a dozen empty mason jars. “You gonna go out with him again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Paul had just rolled into town. A farmhand who was trying to save enough money to buy his own little piece of property in the area. He was a nice guy—and he didn’t know my story—so there was that added bonus.

All the local boys still thought of me as Pierce’s girl. They were sure he was gonna come back and re-claim me one day, so they didn’t want to get in too deep. It didn’t make it easy to date, though I’d tried.

“Has he called you?” she asked, balancing the tray. “If they call within twenty-four hours, they’re into you and not afraid to show it. A real man. If they go a few days, they’re just playing games and who needs that, right?”

Yeah, I’d had one player too many in my life. “Yeah, he texted this morning to ask if I wanted to go out with him tonight. I told him I had to work, so he said he might come in for a beer.”

“Is he a good kisser?”

“He’s okay,” I said, shrugging.

One kiss was no different from another. Except for his kisses. They were different. He didn’t just kiss. He made love with this mouth. It was always a prelude of what was to come. A promise of more.

“Oh. My. God.” Carolyn was staring at the door, slack-jawed.

I turned around to see what caused Carolyn’s reaction. Shit, shit, shit! Pierce and his brother! What the hell was he doing here? And why was he staring at me like he wasn’t the reason we broke up?

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Roy muttered.

Roy came out from behind the bar, his cowboy boots eating up the space as he hauled ass to shake my ex’s hand. He had a bum leg and usually walked with a cane, but that sure as shit wasn’t slowin’ him down none. People had no loyalty. Not that I could blame old Roy. Anyone would probably lose their shit if Pierce Eason walked into their little dive bar.

“What is he doing here?” my best friend asked, her eyes still glued to the door. “Damn, Trev looks hot with that beard.”

Great. That’s all I needed. My best friend hooking up with the man who was supposed to be my brother-in-law. “Don’t,” I groaned, sinking against the bar. “Please, just don’t.”

“At least you look hot,” she said, fluffing my auburn waves.

I batted her hands away, looking like a fool. “Stop that. He’ll think I’m primping for him.”

She surveyed my look. White short shorts, a tight sleeveless denim shirt tied under my boobs, and cowboy boots. Pierce wasn’t used to seeing me all sexed up. When we’d been together, I’d been all cute girl-next-door with pretty, little sundresses, ponytails, flip-flops, and natural makeup. Thanks to my big sister and Carolyn, that look was long gone. New look. New job. New attitude. That’s what I told myself as his hot gaze raked over me. I wasn’t wearing much, but I may as well have been stark naked the way he was looking at me.

“Whoa!” Carolyn said, fanning her face dramatically. “Is it getting hot in here or what?”

“Shut up,” I said between clenched teeth. I grabbed the tray of drinks she was supposed to be serving. “Gimme that. I need to check on my tables anyhow.”

As I made my rounds, I caught a glimpse of Trev and his brother planting their very fine asses at a table. In my section, of course. Life’s a bitch.

Pierce probably thought that meant I’d have to wait on him. Well, screw him. I’d just get Carolyn to trade tables with me. She owed me for playing that damn song. Now I couldn’t get it out of my head.

I smiled and flirted with the customers, pretending nothing was wrong. Of course, everyone watched Pierce walk in, and they all knew we’d been engaged, so I wasn’t really fooling anyone. But I had to pretend. If I didn’t, I’d crack. And I couldn’t afford to crack. Not when the glue piecing me together was already so fragile.

“You gonna see what they want to drink?” Roy asked, shuffling up behind me and pointing at their table.

“Uh no, I was gonna ask Carolyn to take care of it.”

“I sent her down to the storeroom to get a few bottles. You get on over there now and see what they want. We can’t be makin’ VIPs wait like that, darlin’. If we do, they won’t come back.”

Could I get that lucky? But Roy was my boss and jobs were hard to come by in our little town, so until I got my degree, I had to do my job and keep the complaining to a minimum. Which sucked, ‘cause if I ever had reason to complain, well, he just walked in the door.

I wandered over, clutching the old tray in front of me like a shield. I normally didn’t mind putting the girls on display if it meant a few more dollars in tips every night, but seeing Pierce admire my tits would start a downward spiral. Flashbacks of him licking and sucking and… Shit! I could not go there.

“Hey, Trev,” I said, flashing a smile as I made a concerted effort to ignore his companion. “Long time no see. You just passin’ through?”

He looked amused as he darted a glance at his brother. “Uh, we’re here for a few weeks actually, visitin’ Mama.”

“That’s nice.” Their mama was a sweet lady. She couldn’t help it if her firstborn was a lying, cheating scum sucker. I didn’t hold it against her. Or Trev. He’d always been a friend, and that wouldn’t change. “Say hi to her for me.”

“You know I will.”

“What can I get y’all to drink?” I told myself that if I ignored him, pretended he wasn’t even there, maybe he’d see it was pointless to try to get my attention and he’d leave.

“I’ll just have a Coke,” Pierce said, surprising me.

Huh. So he still wasn’t drinking? Interesting. I told myself he’d fallen off the wagon in that hotel room in Atlanta. Not that alcohol would excuse his behavior, but at least if he’d been drunk, I’d have been able to tell myself he was out of his mind when he let some groupie go down on him. No such luck. Now I had to live with the knowledge that bastard did exactly what he wanted to do with no regard for his fiancée. Why the hell couldn’t he just stay out of my life and stop reopening old wounds?

“How ‘bout you, Trev?” I asked, refusing to let my gaze drift his way. I knew it was silly to avoid looking at him, but it was the only way to defend myself because… there were no words to describe how sexy my ex was.

He was tall and muscular with short dark hair and hazel eyes. But the devil was in the details. It was the ever-present scruff on that fucking perfectly chiseled face that I loved to throw darts at. Yeah, I admit it. I used his glossy headshot as a dart board on the back of my bedroom door. Hey, any girl in my position would do the same.

I caught a glimpse of his crooked smile out of the corner of my eye when he looked at me. He was enjoying my discomfort. The bastard! I turned my head slowly, glaring at him. “Somethin’ funny, asshole?”

He pinched his full lips together, shaking his head, but I knew he was suppressing a grin and that made me wanna smack him upside that thick head. I wanted to yell and scream and hit him all over again. I wanted to tell him that he’d had a good girl, who would have done anything for him, who loved him for him, not his fame and money, and like an idiot, he’d thrown me away for ten minutes of fun with a slut who probably banged celebrities for sport.

“Nothin’, baby.” He bit his lip as his gaze raked over me. “Just like watchin’ you get all riled up. I like the new look. It works on you.”

Trev’s eyes traveled around the bar and he grinned. “Yeah, I’d say you’re not the only one who thinks so. Looks like Keira has lots of admirers.”

Pierce shot him a filthy look. “Shut the fuck up.”

He still thought he had the right to be jealous and possessive of me? Hell, no. He’d given up that right over a year ago. “Let’s get one thing straight,” I said, dropping the shield as I got in his face. “I am not your baby. And if I want to get up on this table and shake my ass for every guy in this bar, I will. We clear?”

His eyes narrowed, like he wanted to challenge me, but knew he couldn’t. “Crystal.”

“Good.” I pushed back, willing myself not to breathe. ‘Cause if I did, I might catch a whiff of that familiar cologne. It was fresh, yet strong and sensual, letting everyone know he didn’t have to try to be seductive. He just was. “Now, what can I get you, Trev?”

“Bud works for me, Keira.” His smile was almost sympathetic. “Thanks.”

“You got it.”