“Trace, it’s not your memory that’s the trigger. It’s the situation or your feeling like you can’t control it. Can’t repair what’s been broken.”
Yeah, okay. The man had a point.
She wasn’t a piece of equipment on the farm, wasn’t something he could take a hammer and nails to and fix. Unfortunately. Kylie Ryans was a force of nature—wild like prairie winds that blew past so quickly you couldn’t tell which direction they’d come from. She’d blown him the hell away from day one.
“Doc, I’m sorry to have called so early. I have to go. I’ll check in again tonight.” Before the doctor could protest, Trace hung up the phone. Grabbing a pen from the center console, he began jotting down the song that had just begun to play in his head.
AFTER WRITING a song he knew he’d probably never have the balls to sing in public, Trace sprawled on his couch and stared at the ceiling fan. The cherry oak blades drifted lazily in circles, but he didn’t see them. He saw her.
She was different. Guarded. Less…something.
It was as if someone had coached her. Her sassy Oklahoma accent was less pronounced. She carried herself with the grace of someone older and wiser than he remembered. She thought before she acted, before she spoke. For just a moment last night, he’d seen her slip. Caught a glimpse of the Hothead who had turned his whole world inside out.
The Kylie Ryans he’d known was open, honest, and wore her heart on her sleeve. The girl—no, woman—he’d seen last night was closed off, holding everything in, and had her heart on maximum-security lockdown.
Because of me.
Understanding hit him hard, as hard—if not harder—than the urge to drink always did.
I love it… I love you, she’d told him when he’d bought her daddy’s truck and given it to her. And he’d said nothing. She’d handed him her whole heart and he’d fumbled it. His fists clenched as he lay there. No wonder she’d hidden it away.
There was still another factor he was trying not to think about. But it was pretty hard to ignore with its tattoos and screaming guitars and the annoying smirk Trace wanted to sucker-punch right off its damn face.
Maybe she wasn’t hiding her heart from the world. Maybe he just couldn’t see it anymore because she’d given it to someone else.
THE NEXT morning, the blaring ring of her phone compounded the hangover from hell. She’d stopped using music as her ringtone and just used a traditional one. It was irritating, but at least it didn’t dredge up any painful memories.
“Ugh,” she groaned as she rolled over and glanced at her phone. Bright blue eyes greeted her. “Morning, Blythe,” she greeted her caller.
“It’s noon, Ryans. You missed the opportunity to tell me good morning.”
“Damn. How will I ever go on?” She yawned and sat up in her bed. Which she didn’t remember getting into. She owed Mia one. Or more than one.
“I’ll let you make it up to me. Somehow. Want to have lunch? Or breakfast in your case? I’m in the neighborhood.”
Well this was new. Steven Blythe had gone from a once upon a time late-night fool around friend to just a plain old friend. Though he wasn’t exactly someone she expected to be asking her on a lunch date.
“Oh-kay. Where do you want to meet?”
“How about at your front door?”
Kylie jumped up and sprinted to her bathroom. “Um, okay. So, like, you’re here now?”
She almost cried out when she saw her reflection. Her hair was tangled to hell and back and her makeup was smeared all over her face. She had no idea if the dark rings under her eyes were from crying her mascara off last night or lack of sleep.
A low rumble of laughter came through the line. “Yeah, I’m heading to the elevator now.”
“Okay. See you in a minute.” Kylie disconnected the call and splashed some water on her face. Shit that was cold. After brushing her teeth and throwing on an old Rum Room T-shirt and jeans, she met her unexpected visitor at the door.
“Morning, babe. You didn’t have to get all fixed up for me.” Steven gave her his wickedly adorable grin and an appreciative once-over.
Kylie pulled her hair up into a messy bun and rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome,” she told him as she grabbed her keys and sunglasses off the table by the door. “So where to?”
“Wanna grab something at the Rum Room? Or hit one of the diners down the street?”
She’d already locked her door when she realized she’d forgotten two of the most important items she owned.
“Oh crap.” She sighed and turned back around. “I need to grab my wallet and my phone. I don’t know where my head is today. Sorry.”