Song for a Cowboy (Kings of Country 2)

“Sign me up, too. See? I’m here for moral support. Also, you know, to get away from Momma.” Travis’s over-the-top pained expression almost made her laugh. Almost. When she didn’t react, he leaned back against the seat and smothered a yawn with the back of his hand. “And, you know, to heckle you.”

“Travis.” She frowned at her brother.

“Kidding. Kidding.” He pulled off his sunglasses and looked at her. “I know I’m not the most sensitive guy in the world.”

Melanie turned around in her seat to stare at Travis.

Sawyer cleared his throat. Was he laughing? Sawyer? That never happened. Okay, it happened. But not often enough. Emmy couldn’t hold back her smile.

“Hey, man, I can hear you.” Travis glared at the back of Sawyer’s head, then scowled at Melanie. “Not cool. Either one of you.”

Melanie—she and Sawyer seemed to have some sort of ongoing poker-face championship—turned around, resuming the constant clicking on her tablet.

“Talk about tense. Maybe you do need a massage.” Emmy teased. “You were saying?”

“I’m saying you are my little sister. You haven’t dated since you and Brock broke up. Meaning you haven’t dated anyone else. Ever.” He looked confused, running his fingers through his tousled, dirty-blond hair and blinking several times before he moved on. “Putting aside how bizarre that statement was, I don’t want you to face this alone.”

Emmy Lou took her brother’s hand. “Thanks, Travis.” She smiled. “Plus, I know Krystal probably threatened you. Big time.”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “Totally said she’ll kick my ass if I don’t go.” His hand squeezed hers. “But she’s in Australia, probably exploring Jace’s land down under so—”

“Travis. Oh. Please.” She pulled her hand away. “What is wrong with you?”

“Me?” He turned to stare at her. “Okay, Miss Self-Inflicted Abstinence for No Reason. You realize half the world wants to meet you? The other half wants to…sleep with you. By that I don’t mean actual sleep. And you’re asking me what’s wrong with me? You live like…like a nun. My sister, the nun of country music. What’s wrong with me?”

“Why does it always boil down to sex?” She crossed her arms and stared out the window.

“Because. Sex.” Travis sighed. “Maybe if you’d had more of it, you’d get it.”

She didn’t say a word. There was no way, no way, she was going to discuss her sex life with her brother. Travis lived to tease and if he found out she hadn’t ever actually had sex, she would never ever hear the end of it.

“Is there some sort of privacy window or partition we can roll up?” Melanie asked Sawyer, clearly frazzled by Travis’s oversharing.

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“Nope.” Sawyer shook his head, his sigh saying oh so much.

“Whatever.” Travis waved off their comments. “Here’s a thought, Em: maybe it’s been so long you’ve forgotten?” He added. “I mean you guys broke up, what, six years ago?” He shuddered. “Six years?”

“I should have brought my earbuds,” Melanie muttered.

In the rearview mirror, Sawyer glanced into the back seat, expressionless.

“We’re having a private conversation here. Between siblings. Siblings who share everything.” Travis winked at her. “And I thought you were a prude,” he added, his whisper loud enough for all to hear.

Prude was one way of putting it. Sad was more like it. Maybe there was something wrong with her. But no one else had ever held her interest like Brock. No one else had made her ache for him, feel so out of control and safe at the same time. The idea of casual sex made her nauseous. Something else her brother would probably give her grief over. Since it was clear the entire vehicle wanted this line of conversation to come to an end, she attempted a not-so-subtle diversion. “Travis…Dad said something about you singing with Becca Sinclair? At the International Music Billboard Awards?”

“Yeah, yeah…” He slid his sunglasses back on, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sensing you’re less than excited?” Which was a surprise. Becca Sinclair was an up-and-coming performer who could only help Travis’s career outside of the Three Kings. She and Krystal had both had the opportunity to sing outside their band—she assumed Travis would want that opportunity. But apparently, she’d assumed wrong. Or had she? “What’s up?”

“There’s no way I’m the first choice for that.” He shrugged. “I feel…weird about it.”

“Why would you say that?” She took his hand again, tugging until he was looking at her. “What, you’re not talented enough? You have too many platinum albums to say differently. You’re definitely not lacking in charisma. And—”

“I’m hot.” He grinned.

“You are very modest.” She smacked his arm. “Stop being negative. If they didn’t want you, they wouldn’t have asked.”