“Glad to hear it. Though, a busy schedule like that probably infringes on your personal life.”
“What personal life? I haven’t been on a date in…” I look up, trying to calculate the time. Ugh. That’s depressing. “Far too long.”
“Oh, please. You mean to tell me the locals aren’t knocking down your door?” she asks, nudging my knee with hers.
“I dunno, maybe? I’m just never home to answer,” I joke, wondering if I haven’t been just a hair too honest with the hot singer, who is definitely interested.
“Now, that’s a damn shame.”
She works her lower lip, so I bail and change the subject, gesturing at her boot. “Sorry about your ankle. The powder on the mountain was pretty good today, according to the ski reports.”
“You ski?”
I snort. “Not if I can help it. Though, I’m surprised someone from Nashville enjoys it.”
Shrugging, she answers, “I was born and raised in Utah, home of the greatest snow on earth.Practically had a pair of skis strapped to my feet the moment I was born.”
“Oh, so you’re just a few hours from home, then.”
“Eh…wouldn’t really call it home anymore. Queer in Provo isn’t as much fun as you’d think. I got kicked out at seventeen, and at that point, the only two things I was good at were skiing and singing. I wasn’t good enough for an Olympic team, so I hitched my way across the country to Tennessee. Made sense at the time,” she says, her mouth quirking, even as her eyes reveal the hurt.
“But you still ski when you can,” I observe.
“I didn’t for a long time. I spent my twenties grinding on the Nashville scene and couldn’t exactly afford such a posh hobby. Now they let me do it for free.”
“Gotta be practical, I suppose. Though, I was just reading that you were rejected by every major record label—twice. You’re stubborn,” I say, hoping she knows I mean that as a compliment.
“Only if I really want something,” she answers, sending me a quick wink before her expression is lost to nostalgia. “Hell, I don’t know why I was so stubborn about it. I was told on more than one occasion to femme-up my look to have a better shot at making it. I just couldn’t do it. I had to make it on my own terms, even if I had to wait for the entire music industry to catch up with me.”
“How the hell did you survive that?” I ask, leaning forward, my hair spilling around my shoulders.
She reaches out, twirling one of the loose, long curls around her fingertips. Distracted, she answers, “The one thing that saved me from starvation is that I’m a good songwriter.” Letting my hair loose, she drums her thumb on her knee. “And I let them repurpose my songs for male singers.”
“Nashville’s best-kept secret.”
“Yeah. Honestly, I could’ve bought a nice house, settled in. That little voice inside my heart though…she wouldn’t let me. She told me I had something to offer country music fans and I shouldn’t give up for the easy money.”
“I’m glad you listened to her,” I say, rubbing her knee. “Er, sorry. Didn’t mean to get handsy with you.”
She grins and pushes her hand up against mine, intertwining our fingers. “I don’t mind if things get a little handsy.” Flipping our joined hands, she runs her thumb along my lifeline. “Actually, I have a migraine that’s been trying to spin up all day. I could use a tea and a quiet place to chat. You know anywhere that would be good for that?”
“You sure you don’t want to rest? I read your tour schedule, and it’s really intense.”
Shaking her head, she answers, “Kinley, if I stopped to rest for every migraine, I’d never get out of bed. And the tour’s the tour. Don’t you worry about it. I just want to get to know you a little better in a place with a slightly nicer atmosphere.”
I trust her to know her headaches and, selfishly, I want to know more about her. “Caffeine Ivy’s is great, but it’s closed till tomorrow morning. I do, however, have a fantastic espresso machine and a probably embarrassing variety of tea bags at home. It’s just a ten-minute drive from here.”
Mac and her manager exchange a glance, then she kisses my fingertips as she leans in to whisper. “I’d love that.”
Her touch sends goose bumps up my arm, and I flush from my chest to the roots of my hair. “Do you want to follow me?” I ask, unsure. “Or, I can take you in my truck…?”
Her fingers drop from mine as she rubs her head. “Actually, I’m going to take something right now to get ahead of this thing. If you drive, I’ll be right as rain by the time we get to your place.”
“Sure. As long as you’re still okay with going.”
Her lips tip into a smile. “Oh, not at all. I promise I’m used to them by now. Don’t worry about it.”
I pause, not sure if her answer makes sense. Eh, it probably does. I’m too fucking nervous to try to parse that out, so I stand.
