You'd Be Mine(33)

“I won’t regret you,” I say. I grab the bottle from him and take another swig. “I’ve always wanted to drink straight from the bottle like I was in some old western.” He chuckles low, and I pull my legs up to my chest and lay my head on my knees. I squint one eye and look at him. My heart squeezes in my chest. “You really are too attractive for your own good.”

He takes the bottle from my hand and takes a swig, grimacing. “So are you.”

“I’m sorry I eavesdropped on you in your trailer. It was uncalled for, what I said to you.”

He leans his head back, rolling it to look at me again. “Maybe, but you were only speaking the truth.”

“I shouldn’t have written that song about you. It was mean.”

He laughs. “No, that was genius. I love that song. You’re a clever girl, Annie Mathers, and crazy talented. Don’t you ever apologize for that.”

My stomach swirls giddily. “Clever woman. Even so. I didn’t mean to mock you.”

“The hell you didn’t!” he sputters.

“Okay. Fine. I did.” He wraps an arm around me, and I tip my head onto his shoulder again.

“Well, maybe I didn’t need to be such a dick.”

“Maybe?”

He releases a breath, and my head sinks farther. It’s as though my body is melting into his. My eyelids feel heavy, so I let them drop closed.

“Probably, okay. You were right. It’s a good song. I should play it.”

“For me,” I insist tiredly.

“Someday, maybe.”

“I like you, Clay.”

“You’re pretty likeable yourself,” he says as I drift off.





12



Clay


sunday, june 23

nashville, tennessee

Today we’re back in Nashville for the CMA Music Festival. It’s 9:30 on a Sunday morning and way too early for Trina, if you ask me.

“Where did you say Annie went?” Trina asks, her heels clacking on the tiles as she paces the short lobby of our hotel. I lower the brim of my cap as a small family of tourists enters through the automatic doors, a too-warm morning breeze following them in.

“Church,” says Kacey. She’s sitting on a sofa next to Fitz, sipping a steaming complimentary coffee.

Trina stops her pacing. “Church?” She rolls her eyes heavenward, and I don’t doubt she’s having a private conversation with God about his followers messing up her schedule.

“Gran printed off a schedule of churches in every tour stop.”

“You guys don’t go with her?” I ask, leaning forward and picking up my own cup from the glass coffee table in front of me.

Jason shrugs. He has gray bags under his eyes, and his T-shirt is a rumpled version of the one he wore yesterday.

“Sometimes. Usually back in Michigan I go. She hasn’t really been going since we left on tour. She seemed oddly determined this morning, though. Called up Patrick and Connie and asked if she could get a ride. Wonder what lit a fire under her butt to plop it in a pew?” Kacey raises one brow in my direction, but I ignore her, sipping at my coffee. The fact of the matter is I might have something to do with it. But not because of the reasons Kacey and the rest of the world think.

Annie was honest with me. She doesn’t drink. It doesn’t take a psychologist to know why she avoids the stuff. Instead of cutting her off and tucking her into bed that night, I invited her back to my room and taught her how to do proper tequila shots. If that’s not reason enough to go to church, I don’t know what is. More than once I’ve found religion after a hangover.

The following morning, she crept out of my room before the sun came up and we were on a plane most of last Sunday. Point is, I’m not surprised she dug out the church list now.

“Ah, there she is. Morning, Mother Teresa.”

Annie blushes, tucking a rogue curl behind her ear. It springs right back. She’s wearing a blinding white summer dress and flat sandals and looks too beautiful to be believed. She’s casually holding a gigantic bundle of long-stem red roses down at her side, as if she could hide them. “Shush, you.” She takes in our haggard group in the lobby. “Were we supposed to meet this morning?”

“Yes, but you didn’t know, so don’t worry,” Trina allows. “We’ve had a change of plans for tonight’s performance at the festival. They’ve decided they want to feature Willows and Clay together for a live feed that’ll be broadcast on XM radio as well as on pay-per-view.”

“Wow, that’s…” Annie’s brown eyes flicker to mine.

“Great,” I assure her. “More than great.”

Trina smiles too brightly. “Glad to hear it. There’s a slight catch. You know how the theme this year is ‘Take Me Home, Country Road’?”

We all nod.

“Well, it’s sort of comical. They must be really feeling this Johnny-and-June thing, because they want you to sing ‘It Ain’t Me, Babe.’”

“Oh, well…,” Annie starts.

I laugh as the idea sinks in. “Actually, it’s sort of genius. We get a set of three, right? I’ll kick us off with ‘Some Guys Do,’ and Annie can follow up with ‘Coattails,’ and we’ll wrap with ‘It Ain’t Me, Babe.’ A little back-and-forth to keep their jaws yapping and the papers speculating, right?” I turn to Annie, mindful of her freak-out in Atlanta. “Only as long as you’re game?”