I never thought I'd see the day that arrogant asshole Karas let his schedule be dictated by a baby, but damned if it doesn't make me like him better.
Lines of concern bracket Holly's eyes. "She is? Why didn't you say something?"
Karas looks at his wife and tucks a lock of wavy hair behind her ear. "Because this is important to you."
Tana rolls her eyes. "Damn, you two are so sweet, you're gonna make me puke. Mick and I are staying. I'll let you know if I hear any more gems, babe."
I don't stick around to watch Holly and Tana say their good-byes because I'm already off in search of Ripley.
I catch sight of Hope behind the bar, and she must know exactly what I'm after because she points me in the direction of the employee break room.
Shoving open the door, I find Ripley putting the guitar in a case. I wait to speak until she turns around, but any words I intend to say are erased when I see the tears tracking down her face.
"Sugar, what's wrong?"
Ripley's head jerks up as though she just realized I'm standing here.
When she swipes her hands over her cheeks, trying to hide the evidence, I cross the room and pull her into my arms.
"You killed it. Why are you crying?"
With a snuffle, Ripley composes herself. "I always wanted to play onstage with my mama's guitar, but Pop smashed it when I was thirteen and finally worked up the courage to ask for lessons. He told me there was no way in hell he was going to let me parade myself on a stage like a stripper begging for dollar bills."
I could kill that old man. Straight up kill him.
"I'm so sorry. I wish I could get it back for you."
"He's going to be so pissed when he finds out I'm playing and singing, and I'm not gonna care this time. I'm done letting him control my life. He ran Mama into the ground. Chased her into another man's arms. That was on him. He did that. I'm not letting him run me down anymore. I'm done."
That's when I realize just how big of a deal it was for Ripley to take this step, and it explains why she never pursued it before. She wasn't just bogged down with work at the bar-she had an asshole of a father who shoveled years of bullshit on her.
"I'm really fucking proud of you, Ripley. You nailed it. Holly wants to sign you. She said you're the sound she's been looking for."
Ripley's eyes go wide. "What?"
"This is your shot, if you want it."
"If I want it," Ripley repeats in a whisper. "This would change everything. My whole life."
"Not everything."
"What do you mean?"
I reach out to take her hand. "What's happening between us isn't changing no matter what you decide. I don't care if you're Ripley Fischer, hot new country artist, or Ripley Fischer, bartender, as long as you're mine."
She swallows, her eyes searching my face. "Are you sure? Because right now, I have no idea what I'm going to decide."
"Am I sure that I'm crazy in love with you either way? Damn right I am."
Ripley's other hand comes up and presses to my lips. "Don't say that. You can't be. It's not-"
I kiss her fingers and move them out of the way. "I can. I am. You're the most incredible woman I've ever met, and I knew that for a fact before I ever heard you sing. It's okay if you can't say it back. I don't want to hear it until you're ready."
The door to the break room opens, and the sound of the crowd in the bar filters in.
"Rip, we need you behind the bar. Sorry, girl. Shit's getting crazy now that the security people have left. Everyone heard that celebrities are here, and they're wanting inside."
Ripley looks over my shoulder to whoever is speaking. "I'll be right out. Just one more minute."
When the door closes again, Ripley turns back to me. "I gotta go. You should probably get out of here. They're already on the hunt for you."
"Don't worry about me. I'm not going anywhere until it's time to take you home."
"You'll be mobbed. They won't leave you alone."
I pull a shirt out of my back pocket. "Hope hooked me up."
I hold up the black T-shirt. It's an inverse of Ripley's white tank top with the White Horse Saloon logo, and when I flip it around to the back, she bursts into laughter. It reads Security.
"Really?"
"Consider me your personal security tonight."
34
Ripley
I roll over in bed to find a note on Boone's pillow instead of the man I planned to ravage.
Where did he go? My vision still fuzzy from sleep, I blink until the blue ink comes into focus.