Mia Montgomery grinned and handed Kylie a bottle of expensive imported beer. “Here. I smuggled these. Pretty sure you’re going to need a drink or two to get through this.”
“I’ve got to quit telling people you’re a conceited bitch. You’re actually somewhat thoughtful.”
Mia raised her own bottle in a toast. “Nah. Then I’d have to stop gossiping about what a self-centered pain in the ass you are. I think the rivals thing works for us.”
Kylie took a long pull of her beer. She vaguely recalled the last article she’d seen about her and Mia getting into a screaming match about both of them being up for Breakout New Artist. They’d been joking around in a crowded bar and had to yell to hear one another. But sometimes the alternate reality the media created was better than the truth.
The truth was, Mia was a tough chick that had somehow become a friend. A damn good friend. One who was willing to accompany her to her ex-boyfriend’s house and had brought the liquid courage she needed to get through it.
Not that they didn’t still give each other constant hell. But that was the dynamic that worked for them. Just like they bossed Lily Taite around and were obnoxiously overprotective of her because she’d become the little sister neither of them had ever had.
Kylie opened her mouth to come clean with her friend about everything that had happened with Steven. To ask Mia about what was going on with her and Chris. If anything was going on. Mia was so private—it was hard to tell. But then she closed it. There was enough happening today without adding to it.
“Do you think she’ll be here?” Kylie asked quietly.
Mia was quiet for a minute. “Gibson?”
Kylie nodded.
The other girl shifted on the seat and lowered the phone she’d been texting on. “Yeah, um, I checked the website. She’s going to be here. She’s performing.”
Of course she was. Kylie fought hard to ignore the sinking pull of pain Mia’s confirmation caused. “Awesome. That’s awesome.”
She made the colossal mistake of glancing out the window. They were about fifteen minutes away from the farm.
“No offense, Oklahoma. I’m not judging your professional decisions here because I’m assuming you know what you’re doing, but why in the hell did you agree to this?”
Kylie polished off her beer and reached into the small cooler between them for another.
“Honestly? I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. Not when it comes to…this. Chaz and I talked about it. Our theory is that if there’s drama tonight between…” She cut herself off to take a deep breath. “If there’s drama between me and him, the label will feed on it and push us to tour together. But if I can suck it up and just get through this with even an ounce of my dignity intact, then hopefully they’ll see that there’s nothing here. Nothing that would be worth sending us out on tour together.”
Mia whistled low and took a slow sip of her beer. “That’s one hell of a theory. What do you think your odds of keeping your shit together are?”
A sharp left turn made Kylie look out the window once more. This was the road the farm was on. A few more miles and the car would make another left, pulling her closer. Closer to him. To the past. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes.
When she spoke, her words came out as a whisper. “Not good.”
“MR. CORBIN, they need to know if you want the truck by the pool or by the pond.”
Trace glanced up over the amp he carried. A twenty-something brunette with a clipboard eyed him appreciatively. “Uh, pool I guess. Pond is a littler farther out than I expect guests will want to venture.”
“Yes, sir. Got it. I’ll make sure you get what you want.” She gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence, but when the slow smile spread across her face, he saw it. That gleam in her eye that said she would do whatever he wanted. And call him sir while she was at it.
He cleared his throat and nodded as he made his way past her. “Thank you, darlin’.” His bass player smirked at him as he set the amp down a few feet away. “What?”
Mike grinned and shook his head. “Green Eyes over there has been eying your ass all day. Literally. I made her an offer but I think she’s more interested in you. Guess she has shitty taste.”
He glanced back at the brunette.
Her eyes were green? Trace hadn’t noticed. He actually couldn’t remember much about her except that she’d asked about where to put the truck.
“Guess so. Hey, do they have the speakers set up yet? I need to get back up to the house and check in with Claire Ann. She’s radioed me ten damn times.”