Chapter 6
Caspian
The sun is bright overhead as we walk the property next to Twisted Whiskey. From what Nash shared, the owners are willing to quietly sell a piece of their riverfront property. Most of this section is undeveloped, with the owners’ waterfront home farther up the river.
The morning has flown by. After sunrise, Alex and I grabbed a quick breakfast at Hank & Lulu’s diner. Since they’re catering breakfast for the artists, it was good to touch base with them about the festival.
I kept things light during our meal. Alex has a tough decision to make about her future, so I focused on festival logistics instead of flirting. Some mistakes you only need to make once.
I shared the finalized map of The Boot Roost and discussed artist entry procedures. The conversation was easy and relaxed. Something about Alex lightens me somehow.
After eating, we met up with the property owners. We followed them to this spot on one of their golf carts, where they left us alone to look around.
This part of the Blue Canyon is shallow and narrow compared to my home.
A dense thicket of trees lines the opposite bank, which is part of a natural area owned by the state.
Check this against previous books This combination makes for a great location where recording artists can hang out in between sessions.
We would have to thin out some of the trees and run utilities, but I can see Nash’s vision. The way Alex scans the area, taking pictures and jotting notes, I can tell that she does, too.
She eventually makes her way back to the golf cart, leaning against the hood as she surveys the property. “I know I wouldn’t live on this site, but coming to work here every day, knowing that I co-own this land… it’s hard to resist.”
“But…”
“You heard that in there?” She purses her lips, the natural quiet of the Hill Country surrounding us.
“Hard not to with frown lines splitting right between your eyebrows. Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
The radio crackles. “B2 to B1.”
“This is B1.”
“We have a situation. Can you call me?”
Alex calls Cal, and from what I can gather, one of the young artists is threatening to pull out of the festival because his new manager wants a bigger pay day.
She calls the manager directly, reminding him of their contract as well as the new songwriting partnership his client has with Taryn Murphy, a deal that came out of working the festival.
The manager backs down, apologizes, and even offers to add a fan meet-and-greet that wasn’t in the client’s original contract. All without her raising her voice.
Impressive.
As she puts the phone back in her pocket, Alex takes a deep breath and leans against the golf cart.
“I owe a lot to Magnum records. They hired me right out of college and have trusted my vision and leadership. Cage is looking to expand its Nashville division, a direct reflection of what I’ve been able to achieve there, so leaving won’t be easy. ”
“Isn’t that the nature of the music industry though?
Change?” I pick up a twig and snap it between my fingers.
“Don’t tell me the great Alexandra Tate is afraid of change.
” I side bump her with my shoulder. “Or are you just too set in your city ways to handle country living? You get your groceries delivered, don’t you? ”
She bats at my shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s called convenience.”
“Out here we call that ‘being too fancy to do things yourself.’ But don’t worry, Boots. I’m sure you’ll figure out how to open a can of beans when the apocalypse comes.”
“Bold of you to assume I’d even eat canned beans. That’s peasant food.”
This woman. She’s such a breath of fresh air.
She doesn’t expect anyone to hand her anything.
She works for it. But she also demands that same thing in return.
I take in her makeup-free face, the way her brown strands are still pulled into the messy bun from this morning.
She could wear a paper sack and still command a room.
A breeze rustles through the nearby juniper branches as I head toward the river, its current slow and smooth. “If you’re going to even think about living in Cobalt County, let’s see if there’s some country hiding in you somewhere.”
She follows along to the water’s edge with fake exasperation. I bend down and pick up a couple of stones, skipping one across the water. “Let’s see what you can do.”
Alex picks up a stone and throws it like a baseball right down into the water, where it sinks with a plunk. “I think that was pretty good, Cowboy. Feedback?”
Shaking my head, I stifle a laugh. “What you need is proper technique, Boots.” I step behind her, my arms inches from hers. “May I?”
Alex’s response is breathy and slow. “Mhmm.”
The way her back eases into my chest, like she was made to fit there, damn near undoes me. Trying to focus on the lesson, I place one hand on her hip, the other guiding her arm as I skip another stone. This one hits the water twice before sinking.
“Now you.”
My hand entwined with the back of hers, we send another rock skipping five or six times across the water.
Neither of us speaks, our breaths heavy.
I don’t let myself shift closer, even though every nerve is screaming at me to do just that.
I will myself to let go, to put space between us, but I just can’t do it.
She can’t either because she nestles back against me, her head leaning against my throat. My dick hardens at her ass pressed against my groin. I close my eyes, brushing my thumb against the inside of her wrist as we stand alone at the water’s edge.
What the fuck is wrong with me? This woman is under a lot of pressure and vulnerable. Plus, the last woman I wanted half this bad walked away. Once was enough.
“Sorry, Boots.” I step backward, placing my hands in my jean pockets. “Not what you need right now.”
She whips around, placing a hand on my chest. “The only person who gets to decide what I need is me, Cowboy.” Her blue eyes peer into mine with an intensity that makes me want to kiss those full lips and wish the world away when she suddenly shoves at me before yanking off her sneakers.
“And what I need right now is to beat your country butt at rock skipping.”
She rolls her joggers above her knees and wades into the water up to mid-shin. “You in?”
My chest tightens at her fearlessness, the way I used to be before I learned how badly I could let someone down.
She trudges like the crevices in the limestone aren’t there.
“Easy there, Boots.” Arms crossed over my chest, I watch her test the stones. “These rocks are slicker than they look.”
She does a little shimmy. “Scared I might win?”
With a chuckle, I tug off my boots and socks, rolling my jeans up to my knees before splashing my way toward the gorgeous woman. I’ve been walking across this limestone since I was a kid. “Hope you’re good at losin’, ’cause I don’t do participation trophies.”
Turns out, Alex is a natural and competitive as hell. After a particularly good skip, she does a little victory cheer. “Don’t feel bad, Cowboy. There’s still time for you to catch up.”
I might be doing better if she hadn’t removed her jacket.
It’s warm out now, and the tight vintage Led Zeppelin tee clings to her, the cotton fabric outlining every curve.
She has no clue how close I am to hauling her out of this river, pinning her against the grass, and making her scream my name until the whole damn county hears.
So, I put all that sexual frustration into my next throw, which sinks right to the bottom of the river.
Yep.
After she skips the final winning stone, she turns to me wearing a satisfied grin. “I don’t do participation trophies either, Cowboy.”
I tip my hat, eyes raking over her. “You’re dangerous, you know that? Got me losin’ my edge and likin’ it.”
Her grin holds for a beat before fading slightly as she gazes across the water. “Can I ask you something serious, Cowboy? Do you ever feel like you’re just going through the motions, like everyone expects you to be someone you’re not sure you want to be?”
“Is that how you feel right now?”
She doesn’t answer. She just watches the water as if it holds the answers she’s seeking.
“To answer your question, yes. I came to visit my sister right after my divorce for some perspective. Turns out, staying was the fresh start I didn’t know I needed.”
“I’m glad for you.”
She kicks her foot out to splash at me. The droplets catch the sunlight on her bare legs, and I have to force myself to focus on her words instead of the way the water makes her skin glisten. “Thank you for accompanying me here.”
“You’re welcome.”
As we wade back, Alex reaches for my arm for balance, the simple touch sending heat straight through me.
She’s brilliant and funny and completely out of my league. And she doesn’t seem to care that I work with my hands. And as we drive away, I can still feel the warmth of her touch, and I realize I’m in deeper trouble than I thought.