“You want me to fake-date someone?”
“Not necessarily fake,” she said carefully.“Just… curated.”
He shook his head, a disbelieving smile tugging his lips.“You think that’s what’s missing?A woman on my arm?”
“I think it’s what your audience needs to see.”
Carlene forced her voice to stay calm, even as her heartbeat thudded.She hated this part, that moment when logic brushed up against something personal.Her purpose wasn't to feel anything.Her purpose was to do a job here.
He leaned back against the sofa; his movement sent wafts of the clean scent of soap and faint cologne.“You think you can fix me, Ms.Matthews?”
“I think I can help your audience see what they fell in love with again.”
“Maybe they fell in love with the music,” he said.“Not me.”
“Then give them both.”
For a long moment, neither spoke.Outside, cicadas buzzed, a soft hum under the tension stretching between them.
"How is seeing me with a woman going to do anything other than spread gossip and lies?"
"They'll see romance.They'll see the words to the songs you sing, and in their minds, you'll be the romantic hero of the song you're singing.Make no mistake, fans want it all.With the internet and social media, they want to swoon or be angry that you're taken by another.They want to feel all of it."
"But it won't be real."
"It doesn't have to be.But it has to look real."
Finally, he straightened.He stared into her eyes for a long time.Her heart raced as she watched him process all she had said.Finally, he took a breath.“You’re good at this.”
“I’m the best,” she said automatically.
"Then prove it.”
He stood and walked toward the door with the easy swagger of a man people had watched his whole life.He stopped at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Next show’s in three weeks.Let’s see what you can do.”
The door swung shut behind him.
Carlene exhaled long and slow, pressing her palms to the cool tabletop.The scent of cedar and coffee lingered in the air.
She’d come to Blossom Springs to set this band's trajectory as their stars rose.But what she realized now was that she was here to revitalize a brand.
But watching Jami Hart in person, seeing that hint of exhaustion behind the confidence, she couldn’t shake the thought that this wasn’t just about marketing.
Something about him felt… untethered.
And she’d just volunteered to help him find his way back.
ChapterThree
Sunlight poured through the big barn windows, catching the steel beams Quinn Kurtz had left exposed when he remodeled the place.The air carried the clean mix of coffee, lemon oil, and the faint sweetness of citrus drifting in from the doors.
Four leather sofas surrounded a wide coffee table, the band’s casual meeting spot when they weren’t practicing or recording.Framed concert photos, and in the corner, a rack of guitars gleamed like a shrine.
Jami slouched into his usual corner of the sofa facing the door, boots crossed at the ankle.The others trickled in: Sean carrying a mug of coffee, Axel spinning a pair of drumsticks, Maddyn trailing behind him, humming under her breath.Tony arrived with Livia, his wife, and the band’s second backup singer, their hands linked as naturally as breathing.
Jami watched them all settle in, trying to ignore the flicker of irritation still rolling around in his head.We make one.Carlene’s words from yesterday kept replaying.So did the way she’d looked at him, calm and sharp all at once.He hadn’t decided yet whether she fascinated him or annoyed the hell out of him.
