Girl in Love (43 page)

“So what’s the endgame here? Do we schedule another tour or ground them or what? Frankly, Noel, I feel like you brought them here to berate them for something that none of us really knows much about. Obviously some type of personal emergency arose that they both felt they had to deal with and prevented the last leg of the tour from being completed successfully. What’s done is done.”

She leaned back in her chair as she waited. Kylie, on the other hand, was on the edge of her seat. Not so much for herself as for Trace.

Noel Davies smirked at the woman. “Sorry. My apologies if the words I was using were too big for your clients.”

“You’re a condescending prick, Davies.” Trace shook his head. “And clearly one who is enjoying this far more than he should. Kylie and I have both made this label a great deal of money. But all the money in the world won’t change the fact that you’re a smug little shit who wouldn’t have this label if it weren’t for artists like us. And yet, you refuse to treat us like actual people.”

“You done? Because as far as I’m concerned, you are. The final decision from the Board was release your greatest hits album or dissolve your contract due to multiple breaches. Which one sounds better to you?”

Kylie winced. A greatest hits album was the first nail in the coffin. Or for some, ones much older than Trace, a necessary step toward retirement. Trace’s career was nowhere near that point.

“You’ll release my greatest hits over my dead body,” Trace said evenly, his tone laced with a valid threat. She was beginning to worry this meeting might actually end in bloodshed.

“Well then, you can sign your dissolution papers on the seventh floor in Legal. I’m sure you can find the door. Feel free to let yourself out.”

Kylie nearly fell out of her chair. That was it? No chance to explain? No other options? Just like that?

“No, wait.” She couldn’t help it. Serious artist or not, she was still that girl who had to say her piece. She stood up to try and stop him from leaving. “Trace, tell him. Tell him about—”

“Kylie, I swear to God, if you say another word—”

“You can’t just leave. You can’t let them do this.”

She watched him look from her to Davies and back again. “Looks like they already did. Enjoy the rest of your meeting.”

“You’re welcome to follow him, Miss Ryans,” Noel Davies informed her. “You seem to have a habit of doing that. Just know that if you walk out of this meeting, you’re as finished with this label as he is.”

“Stay put, Kylie,” Trace commanded on his way to the exit. Before he left with Pauly close behind him, he placed a hand on the door and turned. “Hey, Davies?”

“Yes, Mr. Corbin?” He sighed as if Trace had been nothing more than a giant waste of his time instead of one of the label’s bestselling artists of all time.

Trace smirked at him and Kylie dropped into her seat, feeling helpless as the drama unfolded.

“The next time I hear of anyone even affiliated with this label making any kind of lewd or unwarranted sexual comments toward her, you can rest assured, I will find the door. The front door to your house. Hope none of those words were too big for you. Have a good day.”

With that, he walked out and let the door close behind him.

What in the hell just happened here?

She pressed her hands to her temples. This was so wrong for so many reasons.

Noel Davies must not have felt the same way. “Now that that’s all taken care of, where were we?”

“W
ELL, THAT
went about as awful as expected.” Pauly patted Trace firmly on the back. “You okay?”

Trace cleared his throat and loosened his tie. “Yeah. I am actually.”

“Maude and I were talking and we think there are several other labels that would be—”

The sound of the conference room door opening behind them cut him off. Trace half-expected it to be one of Davies’s security minions coming to escort him out. He sighed and turned to check.

“Hey,” she called out to him. Kylie stood there, looking at him as if she hadn’t just walked out on a meeting that could end her career. Or at least seriously tarnish it.

“Hey yourself. Get your ass back in there before Davies—”

“You bought my house,” she said quietly.

Trace tilted his head to the side. “Yeah. I did. It’s yours if you want it. I just figured you weren’t using it so—”

“Marlena and Isabelle are lovely. I’m glad they live in it.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear that. Look, Kylie, we can talk about all of this later. You need to get back in there. Now.”

His mouth gaped open as she closed the door behind her.

She took a step toward him. “No.”

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Pauly said from beside him. Trace couldn’t look away from her long enough to thank him.

Her eyes were flashing into his and every moment they’d ever spent together was playing behind his. God, he loved her so fucking much. And still wanted her so damn bad. But not bad enough to cost her everything she’d worked for.

“Have you lost your mind?”

She bit her lip and his gaze dropped to her perfect mouth. “Maybe. Have you seen it? Pretty sure I left it with you.”

He grinned, recognizing the line he’d used on her before. She remembered.

“Kylie, you can’t just—”

“Yes, I can.” Her face spread into a wide grin. “See, I have this habit of feeling first and thinking second. It’s kind of my thing.”

“Kylie—”

He had no idea what his argument was going to be, but it didn’t matter because she ran full speed and jumped into his arms before he could make it.

Her mouth met his, and he felt every single emotion she was pouring into that kiss. Happiness, pain, forgiveness.

“What are you doing, Kylie Lou?” he asked once she’d pulled back to catch her breath.

“Choosing love,” she said, resting her forehead against his. “You okay with that?”

Trace watched her in wonder. He wished someone would pinch him. Or punch him. Something to let him know this was real. That she’d really chosen him, chosen what they had over everything else.

“See, this guy I know, this really stubborn guy, reminded me that sometimes you have to choose love.” She kissed him once more as he maneuvered them out of the pathway where people were trying to get to the elevators. “I lost myself for a while,” she choked out. “But then I went home and I found myself.”

“Home as in Oklahoma?” He wondered if his heart could actually beat out of his chest. Felt like it was a definite possibility at the moment.

“Yeah. But when I got there, it wasn’t my home anymore. My home is here.”

“In Nashville?” Trace asked, setting her down carefully so he didn’t give any other motherfuckers a glimpse at what was under her dress.

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Then she shook her head, confusing him momentarily. “With you, Trace. My home is with you.”

His voice barely made it out loud enough to be heard over the throat-choking lump of emotion. “You came back to me.”

Her beautiful blue eyes filled with tears even though she was smiling. “I told you. I’ll always come back.”

He scooped her up in his arms once more. “Let’s get the hell out of here. They can fax our paperwork to Maude’s office.”

Kylie’s mouth dropped in the little o of surprise he loved. He kissed her again, sweetly, but eagerly, conveying exactly how much he wanted her. She responded with a deep, lingering kiss that felt so good it hurt. Then she nuzzled his neck with her mouth, making it difficult for him to walk upright.

“My place or yours, Kylie Lou?” He held on for dear life, knowing that this time, no matter what they faced, neither of them would let go.

“Take me home, Trace.”

“C
AN
I open my eyes yet?”

“No, not yet.”

His warm breath tickled her ear and Kylie shivered. “Trace, are we in a bar?”

The vibration of his dark laughter rattled her a little. “Relax, it’s not even open right now. No one’s going to be drinking.”

They took several more steps before he removed the blindfold from her eyes. It took a few seconds for her to adjust to the darkness in The Rum Room. The stage was the only thing with any real light on it. The lights around the island bar in the middle of the room were too dim to be of much help.

She turned in his arms. “What’s going on? How did we get in here?”

Trace shrugged. “Eh, I know the owner.” He winked and led her over to the middle of the dance floor. “I believe I owe you a dance.”

Kylie heard the shuffle of instruments being moved on stage, but she couldn’t look away from the man wrapping her in his arms.

A song began to play, one that she had both loved and hated at one time or another.

“Dance with me?” Trace held his hand out and waited for her to accept.

Kylie’s eyes filled with tears. She nodded and stepped forward as a singer she recognized as a regular at The Rum Room’s open mic night began singing about a woman who loved him unconditionally like Jesus did. He was the same one who’d been singing the night Trace had walked away from her two years ago.

Her own heart faltered in her chest as she listened to his strong, steady one.

“Trace,” she whispered, looking up at him as they swayed. “Please tell me you didn’t bring me here to tell me you’re going back into rehab and I’m not allowed to wait for you.”

The last year of her life had been amazing. They’d lived together on his farm in Georgia, had written an album full of songs, while offers poured in from record labels and television networks.

Things were going so well…it was almost too good to be true.

Her entire body tensed as she waited for him to answer.

He swallowed hard and stared down at her. “No, baby. I brought you here because I needed a do-over. I wanted to do this right.”

Her gaze lifted warily as he kissed her on the forehead.

“I brought you here because you changed my life forever in this room. And then I hurt you here, and I want to fix that. That look you get, that panic-stricken fear that fills your eyes sometimes… It kills me.”

“Trace, I just… I love you so much, and the thought of—”

“Breathe, pretty girl.” He winked and smiled at her, that slow, intense grin she knew he only gave to her.

She nodded and forced the best smile she could. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak out.”

“It’s okay.” He spun her in a circle and dipped her Hollywood movie-style until she giggled. “There. That’s better.”

She shook her head. “So, um, you gonna tell me what we’re doing here?”

The song ended and silence surrounded them. Her skin prickled as she focused on breathing normally. Trace’s eyes were so bright in the glare from the lights of the stage that he appeared possessed by something ethereal.

“We’re here because you believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.” His voice was thick with emotion. “You loved me when…God.” He paused to run a hand through his dark hair. “When I couldn’t stand the damn sight of myself.”

“Trace,” Kylie said gently. She reached for him, but he backed up and her heart seized in her chest.

“I need to say this. All of it. I need you to hear me.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Okay.”

“Seeing you up on that stage that first night, hearing my song, your way…” He took a deep breath. “You brought my world into focus. The mess, the pain. You made me see the things I’d tried to blur out, to drink away.”

She wiped the tears that had begun to fall as he continued.

“You said you were broken, Kylie. That I made you feel alive… But you really did bring me back to life that night. Seeing you on stage, lit up and so in love with music, with the gift of it, changed me.”

He let out a small laugh. “And you scared me to death. Because with that beautiful, amazing girl damn near glowing on stage next to me, my every weakness came to light.”

“You were never weak,” she whispered.

“Yeah I was.” He reached out and wiped a tear that had fallen to her lips. “But you loving me, believing in me, having the kind of faith in me that no one had ever had… It gave me the strength to get help. You thought I was better than I was, so I wanted to be that for you.”