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"You're safe," he says again, holding his hands up as if to show he isn't a threat. Except everything about him is a threat. I still feel the truth of that burning in my veins. "But if I were anyone else, that might not be true. Your face and your music are all over Texas right now. That makes you a target, Callie. You can't trust everyone, especially not men you don't know. So yeah, you need a bodyguard."

"I…" I lick my lips, trying to work moisture back into my mouth. His lesson was effective. I'll give him that much. But maybe not for the reasons he thinks.

"If you'd prefer someone else to do the job, I get it," he says, meeting my gaze. "But your safety needs to be your biggest priority, especially if your former manager has an axe to grind. Morgan may be wild as hell, but she isn't wrong on this."

I stare at him for a long moment and then nod slowly, exhaling a shaky breath. "Cody isn't a threat, but okay."

"You want me to find someone else for the job?" he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I know I should say yes. That's the smart thing to do. It's the safe thing to do. Even if he doesn't mean me any harm, he is a danger to me, in ways that scare me a lot more than the way he just grabbed me did.

My body burns in ways it shouldn't. I'm still trembling for reasons I shouldn't.

"No," I whisper. "I want you."

Something dark flares in his eyes, making me shiver. "Then you've got me, Callie."

"I…" I like the way he looks at me, a little too much. "How much do you charge?"

"Who said anything about you paying me?"

"Me," I say firmly. "You can't work for me for free."

"I'm doing a favor for Morgan. I owe her."

"Why?"

"Because she drinks like a goddamn pirate," he grumbles.

"What? She's pregnant."

"She wasn't when she outdrank me. Now, I owe her a favor," he explains, scratching the side of his face.

"Oh my gosh. Are you blushing?"

"Fuck no."

Except, he absolutely is. My curvy little friend outdrank this giant cowboy. A shocked peal of laughter burbles out before I can stop it.

He narrows his eyes on my face, and I clamp a hand over my mouth, trying to contain my laughter, but he looks so embarrassed that I just end up laughing again.

"I'm sorry. Oh, God. I promise, I'm not laughing at you."

"Liar," he rumbles before his expression softens. "That's all right, though, songbird. Keep laughing at me. I'll make sure you pay for it later."

Oh. Gulp.

My laughter dies, my gaze tangling with his.

For long moments, we just stare at each other. And I'm caught by the realization, yet again, that this man is dangerous. He's got mud on his boots and Silver Spoon Falls in his soul. And if I'm lucky, I'll be in a recording studio in Hollywood this time next month. We aren't the same.

And yet, when he grins at me, holding out his hand for me to shake it…I don't hesitate to take it.

Chapter Three

Bishop

Istick around to meet the band, watch Callie practice, and tell myself I'm just doing my job. It's a lie, though. I stick around because I like the way she peeks at me beneath her long lashes and blushes every damn time she catches me staring. I stick around because I like the way she tries like hell to pretend she doesn't know exactly where I am the entire time she's singing. And I stick around because I can't seem to drag myself away.