Page 26 of Wild and Wanted

‘Country.’

‘Duh,’ she replied, rolling her eyes.

Clay grinned. It was good to see Stevie shaking off her funk and to be the recipient of her teasing. It burrowed under his skin and made him feel lighter.

‘What artists?’ she clarified.

He reeled off a half dozen – the usual chart-topping suspects. And then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he said, ‘And I like you.’

Her smile got bigger, which hit bigger. ‘You’re just saying that because I’m right here.’

‘Nope.’ Clay shook his head. ‘I’m a bone fide fan, Ms Everhart. Cross my heart.’

He slashed his index finger in an X over the left side of his chest and Clay swore he heard her breath catch. Her smile faded a little, her eyes searching his as if she wanted to believe him but couldn’t let herself go there.

‘Okay,’ she said eventually, removing the guitar strap from around her head. ‘Prove it.’ One hand holding the neck of the guitar, the other using the wall behind for leverage, she pushed herself up.

Hand sliding from Electra’s neck, Clay stepped forward to help her, taking her guitar and offering his hand. When she shook her head, Clay was both disappointed and relieved. The stall was spacious but they were already standing too close for comfort.

Retaking her guitar, she propped it against the wall. ‘Name one other song of mine besides the Grammy winner.’

Turning his brain to her challenge, Clay didn’t bother to tell her that he had her album downloaded in its entirety on Spotify; he just reeled off the half dozen songs he could think of, off the top of his head. He’d burned through her entire discography several times already this past week and it was gratifying to see her surprised blink.

‘You wanna see my Spotify?’

She shook her head, a smile toying with the corners of her mouth. ‘I believe you.’

‘So…’ Clay tipped his chin at the guitar. ‘Has inspiration struck?’

Something shifted in her eyes before she lowered her gaze to the guitar, her hair falling to obscure her face as if she was suddenly not as sure of herself. Eventually, though, she nodded. ‘Uh huh.’

‘You’ve written a song?’ he asked her downcast head. ‘What’s it about?’

She didn’t say anything for the longest time. He supposed maybe that was the wrong question to ask someone who worked creatively. Maybe she didn’t talk about her songs until they were done. But then she lifted her chin, her gaze direct as if she’d come to some kind of decision.

‘You.’

The air in Clay’s lungs stuttered to a halt, his gut squeezing reflexively. There was no hesitancy there, just a frankness that made his blood heat and throb. She’d written a song about him? ‘Really?’

She nodded, holding his gaze. ‘It’s not finished yet but… yeah.’

‘What’s it called?’

She took a beat before she answered. ‘Cowboy Kisses.’

Well, fuck… His breath rushed out. She wasn’t making it easy to remember he had no business thinking about kissing her – none at all. ‘And what do you know about that?’

Clay hadn’t meant it to sound flirty, really he hadn’t, but the way Stevie’s eyes widened told him it could definitely have been read that way. Or hell, maybe deep within his lizard brain ruled by carnal urges and libido, he had meant to flirt.

Because this woman had been frying his brain for a week now.

‘After my botched attempt a week ago, not a lot,’ she admitted with a deprecating laugh resonating with her husky vibrato. ‘But I know a lot about yearning.’

Oh God. She was killing him. Those soft blue-grey eyes looking him straight on as she told him in a roundabout way that she… yearned for him?

‘It wasn’t botched.’

She gave a soft snort. ‘Okay.’