“I’m so sorry,” I said to Jimmy. I handed him a cup of coffee through the open car window. “I didn’t know you were out here.”
“Boss likes me to stick tight. It’s fine,” he said, catching sight of my expression. “Seat goes back all the way. Not much different from sleeping on the tour bus.”
“Trailer’s over there,” Dan said. “If you want to wash up.”
“Thanks, man.”
I watched him go, a knot in my stomach. Why didn’t I realize Jimmy would end up sleeping in the limo if Colt stayed with me? And why didn’t Colt care?
“Everything all right?” Dan asked.
I nodded, still distressed by my thoughtlessness.
He regarded me from behind the beard. “You want to feed some baby goats?”
I did.
Nothing is cuter than a baby goat. Kittens, maybe. Or puppies. But goaties are bouncy and cuddly, with silly ears and adorable little hooves. Our mother left the babies on their mommas during the day, separating them at night and milking the lady goats in the morning. Most of them were good mothers. But a few were new and nervous or neurotic and neglectful, and their babies needed extra care and snuggles.
I curled in the straw with a kid on my lap, feeding it from a bottle. Its solid little body quivered in my arms, furry and alive. The sun warmed my hair, seeping into my bones like happiness.
“I should have known I’d find you here,” Colt said.
I waited for the baby to suck the bottle dry before scrambling to my feet. “You’re up.”
“No point in staying in bed alone.”
I flushed. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“So you snuck out.”Again, his look said.
“Sorry.”
He kissed my cheek. “Hey, you do whatever makes you happy.” He could be so sweet. He winked. “As long we get another Grammy.”
I tugged on the hem of my sweatshirt.
“You look like the farm girl in a music video. All you need is pigtails and short shorts.”
I smiled weakly. “And Sharla to do my makeup.”
Jimmy came back from the trailer. “Ready, boss?”
I looked at Colt, noting for the first time the bag in his hand, the wet comb tracks in his hair. “Where are you going?”
“Back to the tour.”
A cold fingertip traced my spine. “You don’t have another show until Wednesday.”
“Angel, I can’t spend another night in a twin bed. Anyway, this”—he gestured around at the barn, the fields, the farmhouse—“isn’t really my scene.”
“I thought you were into country,” Dan drawled behind me.
“Colt, this is Dan.”
“Nice to meet you. Are you a fan?” Colt asked.
Dan gave him a level look. “Can’t say as I am.”
