Chapter 7
Alexandra
“Let’s take thirty and meet back here.”
Cal looks up from his iPad. “Bless you. This protein bar is clearly mislabeled. It says chocolate chip, but it’s basically sawdust with a wrapper.”
I point to the fruit tray that was set out for us, but Cal just waves it off. “Only grapes and melon are left.”
We’ve been reviewing artist itineraries all morning in the lodge conference room, and my brain is scrambled. It’s not quite lunch time, but I need some solitude. “I’m going to drive over to The Boot Roost to view progress. You can catch me on the radio.”
I grab my bottle of water as Cal nods and head outside.
Today’s a bit cloudy with a small chance of light rain.
I grab my umbrella and hop into the UTV that Zane gave me and Cal to use this week.
By now, I’ve got the path from the lodge to the artists’ compound memorized, and I enjoy the drive.
No billboards or neon signs greet me, just rolling pastures and wildflowers.
When I pull up, a newly erected entrance arch spans the drive, its massive wooden sign branded with Welcome to The Boot Roost. The artists will love it.
A crew is setting up a large marquee tent in the center of the bus site, which is where meals will be catered.
Needing some peace and quiet, I park at the practice barn and head inside.
“Oh, hey.”
Caspian looks up with a half-smile. He’s busy securing cables with zip ties, his muscles flexing under a plain white tee.
The shirt stretches tight across his broad shoulders, his round biceps straining the seams with each subtle movement.
His forearms are corded with thick muscle, his veins building as his strong hands move with an ease that makes it way too easy to picture them gripping my body.
To top it off, his denim jeans cling to every muscle in his legs, and when he leans forward, it pulls tight across his cute butt.
I nearly bite through my lip to keep quiet.
His scuffed boots, the tilt of his hat, the way his jaw tightens with focus.
.. every move is so deliberate, so sure, it makes my skin feel too tight from picturing all that intensity turned on me.
“Like what you see, Boots?”
“Shut it.”
I walk over to one of the peacock blue couches next to the side window, the velvety fabric soft as I sink down. I pull off my boots, plunk my feet onto the low, square coffee table, and close my eyes, thankful for a few minutes away from my computer.
“You look like you could use this.”
I open my eyes to see Caspian holding out a bottle of mineral water from the makeshift kitchenette, which now has a glass fridge stocked with a variety of drinks and yogurts.
“Thank you.” Our fingers brush as he hands it over, and I’m not sure if the chill running down my spine is from him or the icy glass.
He motions to the adjacent club chair. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.” I take a few gulps of water before setting it on the table. “Has it really only been twenty-four hours since we were skipping rocks?”
“Hard to believe, Boots.” Caspian’s massive frame fills the chair as he sits back, his ankle resting on the opposite knee. “Momentum’s picking up around here. All the moving parts are lining up just right. This thing’s gonna be one hell of a show.”
We only have two days left until artists start arriving, and beginning this afternoon, my focus will shift to the kickoff party that Nash and the label are hosting over at Twisted Whiskey.
My assistant, Bree, is flying out here tomorrow to work with Cal so that I am free to handle whatever comes up.
A scuffling noise catches my attention along with a flash of white. “We have a visitor.” I nod toward Leonardo, who struts his llama self right into the barn without even blinking.
Caspian curses under his breath. “Out, Leo.”
The llama emits the loudest, shrillest bleating sound before walking over to where we’re sitting and knocking over my mineral water.
“What was that for?” I look right at Leo, my arms stretched out wide in question. “I thought we were friends. I gave you my hat.”
Caspian is trying so hard not to laugh as he gets up to grab a shop towel. “He’s very protective of me.”
I stare Leo down, and I swear to all that is pink, he sticks his tongue out at me.
“Oh, shit!” Cas jerks me into his arms and yells something at Leo that I don’t understand because the cowboy’s arms are holding me so tight I can’t breathe.
“Crspyun.” My words muffle against his T-shirt, his earthy scent seeping underneath my skin and making my toes curl. I try again. “Caspian!”
“Sorry about that.” His chin dips down, those steel-blue eyes catching the light as he studies me. “I was worried he was going to spit at you. That’s what he usually does when he’s feeling territorial.”
“I’m starting to think Mr. Leo doesn’t approve of me.”
“He’ll come around.”
I push off the couch and snag the towel. “Let me clean this up while you deal with your bestie.”
I wipe up the spilled water as Caspian attempts to corral Leo toward the door. Just when Cas tries to reach for the barn door, Leo stands right in front of it, trapping us inside.
“Leo.” Caspian’s voice is curt and commanding, but the animal doesn’t care. He plops onto the ground and doesn’t budge. “Move, Leo, or you will not be allowed out of your pen. Is that what you want?”
I’m not sure if Leo actually understands Caspian or not, but he just yawns and stretches out like he’s going to take a nap. It’s like the animal knows that nobody can get in or out. He’s a country doorstopper.
“This could take a while.” He motions to the alpaca wannabe. “He did this with Ruby at first.”
“How did she win him over?”
“Food.”
I glance at the drink fridge. “You think he likes yogurt?”
We both laugh.
Caspian walks over to the kitchenette and grabs a guitar that’s leaning against the wall. I’m surprised I hadn’t seen it there. He sits back down, guitar on his lap like it belongs there.
“You play?”
“I dabble.”
Impressed, I say, “That’s not a typical skill, Cowboy.”
“It’s not as unusual as you think, Boots.” He strums a few notes and looks over at Leo, who lifts his head off the ground.
“He’s heard you play before.”
“After his mom abandoned him, I bottle fed him. I stayed in the barn with him, and I would sometimes sing.”
The man sings to abandoned wildlife. He fills out a pair of jeans like he’s a Calvin Klein model. And the way his dark hair curls slightly from underneath a cowboy hat? Perfection.
Caspian’s fingers glide across the strings, his fingers moving with an ease that makes my throat dry. Strong, sure, calloused… I can’t stop imagining them tracing down my skin instead of those strings. I clench my jaw as hard as I can stand to distract me from my wicked thoughts.
As the notes take shape, the song is unfamiliar to me, but they blend into a rich melody.
"Leo, oh, Leo,
We’re trapped by your attitude
And just want to leave
Leo, oh, Leo
So what’s it gonna be?"
“Did you just make that up on the spot? Not the words, but the melody?” My eyes are wide in surprise.
“Don’t make this into more than it is, Boots.”
I talk with my hands, palms face up. “I’m just saying you have an ear for music.”
“Thank you. I took guitar and piano my whole childhood.”
Cas plays a few more chords, the melody soft and unhurried. While the music fills the barn, Leo just blinks lazily at us like he has all day. And as beautiful as the melody is, with each second that passes, I get more frustrated until I can’t stand it anymore.
“He hasn’t budged, Caspian, and I need to get back to the lodge.” I pat the seat next to me. “He clearly doesn’t like me being near you. What if we make him jealous enough to move?”
Cas wiggles his eyebrows. “So calculating and manipulative, Ms. Tate. I like it.”
He sits next to me on the sofa, and I lean into his shoulder, letting my hair brush against his neck. I shift closer until our thighs are touching, maintaining eye contact as I play with the collar of his shirt.
“Alex.” His words are low and heated. He cups the back of my neck, his thumb tracing my cheek. “You’re beautiful.”
“Is Leo looking?”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
His mouth crashes into mine, tongues clashing, teeth clinking. Our breaths heave as our mouths take on a life of their own.
And just like that, we’re torn apart by the sound of a mournful foghorn having an existential crisis.
We both jump off the couch, startled to our bones, and see Leo sproinging to where Caspian was sitting seconds ago.
Freaking. Leo.
“I’ll see you later, Cowboy, and next time, we won’t need an audience.” I smooth my hair, trying to look composed, but if I look anything like Caspian, it’s a lost cause. His hat is on the floor and half his shirt is untucked. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”
I would pay money to have a photo of the expression on his face.