At one time, he’d have said yes. But now? She was a King. CiCi King’s devoted daughter. Which meant nothing was as it seemed. “I don’t really know much about her anymore.” Only that, for reasons beyond understanding, he still ached to touch her. “She’s a celebrity, Michelle.”
Chapter 4
Emmy crossed the parking lot of the Capital City Events Center doing her best not to think about the last time she’d been here. It wasn’t raining, she wasn’t FaceTiming with Krystal, there was no truck barreling down on her, and no Brock. So far, so good.
She ran her hand over her ponytail and smoothed the neon-green Drug Free Like Me T-shirt she wore. Today was her inaugural DFLM event. Today would be all about singing to a couple hundred kids, throwing footballs, running relay races, and—maybe—climbing a rock wall. Today would not be about Brock, period. “You don’t have to come in, Sawyer.” Sawyer walked right behind her, silent and intimidating and way too intense.
“Yes, I do,” Sawyer answered, holding open the stadium door.
Poor Sawyer. Considering the stress her family had caused him the last year, he probably had a medicine cabinet full of antacid. “I’m pretty sure there’s no cause for alarm. And Daddy will be here in like…” She glanced at her watch. “Fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“It’s my job,” Sawyer answered, following her inside.
“Fine. It’s like talking to a brick wall anyway.” She glanced at up him, hoping to draw him into conversation. He’d been part of her daily life for more than a year, but she still didn’t know all that much about him. “Anyone who thinks our generation is entitled and lazy never met you.” She used air quotes around our generation. “It takes a lot to impress my daddy, Sawyer. But I can tell, you’ve definitely impressed him.” It might also have something to do with the fact that, when he was needed, Sawyer never failed to deliver. Over the course of the last year, Emmy Lou had come to think of her broody bodyguard more as family than an employee. “I do think you’ve earned a vacation by now. Don’t you?”
Sawyer shrugged, barely acknowledging her question. He was assessing their new environment—jaw tight, posture braced, and gaze sweeping the mostly empty stadium hall. She peered around, trying to see things the way he saw them. But all she saw was a cleanup crew, a man in a hydraulic lift changing light bulbs, and a smiling teenager in a DFLM T-shirt. None of them screamed danger to her.
“Miss King?” The teenage girl sort of bounced toward them, her hands clasped in front of her. “Hi. I’m Lupe. You’re here. In person. And I’m…I’m super nervous.” She laughed, her cheeks deep red, and rubbed her palms against her jean-clad thigh. “I’m supposed to take you to the field.”
“Hi, Lupe. It’s so nice to meet you.” Emmy Lou shook the girl’s hand.
“Same. I mean—it’s really really nice to meet you.” Her gaze darted to Sawyer, her smile wavering.
“That’s just Sawyer,” Emmy said, pointing behind her, where Sawyer stood—stiff and silent. “He probably won’t smile or say much, but he’s totally a good guy even if he looks a little scary.”
The corner of Sawyer’s mouth twitched.
“Oh. Hey.” Lupe nodded. “Okay, well, we’re going this way.” She turned and headed quickly toward one of the ramps that led onto the floor.
By the time they’d reached the ramp onto the field, Emmy had learned that Lupe wanted to be a high school guidance counselor. “Our counselor, Miss Lozano, is always there when we need her. At school, at home—she’s even picked up one of my friends when things got really bad at home. I want to do that, you know? Be there to help so that no one is ever alone.”
It wasn’t the first time Emmy realized just how privileged she was. For all their flaws—and there were many—her family would always be there for her. “You are definitely amazing, Lupe.”
Lupe’s cheeks were bright red now. “Thanks.”
The thump of music—with a heavy bass—drifted up the ramp. Shalene Fowler was there, a clipboard in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other.
“Hey, Emmy Lou.” She waved her forward. “You ready for this? We have a full house. And they are super excited! We’ve got the stage set up, per your assistant’s direction, so we’re ready to go.”
“She wanted to be here, but she’s got some nasty bug.” If Emmy Lou hadn’t put her foot down and demanded she stay home, Melanie would have been here anyway—green and nauseated. Not that being sick had stopped Melanie from running through the day’s agenda, again, via FaceTime.
“Any questions?” Shalene smiled when Emmy shook her head. “Okay, we’ve got about five minutes.”
Five minutes was all she needed. Emmy Lou glanced down at her custom-made, pink, sequin-covered Converse tennis shoes. Before the Three Kings had become a power player in country music, they’d been three awkward preteens singing their hearts out at every county fair and rodeo circuit. At one rodeo, a big one, Emmy had tripped on the laces of her cute ankle boots and fallen, face-first, in front of the entire crowd. It hadn’t stopped her from getting up, smile in place, and singing, but it had left her insides twisted up and her confidence shaken. Her performance had suffered, badly.
She’d never let herself forget that day. Not the fall, accidents happened. But how it felt to disappoint her fans, family, and band. And herself. After that show, humiliated and nursing bruised knees, she’d promised herself she’d give each and every performance her best—no matter what. Ever since, she’d pause and check her shoes before every performance—whether she was wearing lace-up shoes or not—to renew that promise. She drew in a deep breath and nodded.
Minutes later, Shalene asked, “Ready?” At Emmy’s nod, she held up the walkie-talkie and said, “Miss King is ready.”
Emmy bounced up on the tips of her toes and rubbed her hands together. She was excited—really excited. The shouts and clapping and voices from inside the stadium triggered a surge of endorphins. There was nothing as exhilarating as the enthusiasm of a live audience. Normally Melanie or Krystal, Travis, or her daddy was there to give her a thumbs-up, a let’s-do-this sort of thing. So she glanced at Lupe and gave her a thumbs-up. Lupe returned the gesture. She gave Sawyer a thumbs-up, too. For a split second, he smiled. Well, almost…sort of smiled. His eyebrow shot up, too. Then he was stony faced, his thick arms crossed.
For the most part, Emmy laughed off her sister’s random Travis-Sawyer comparisons. They looked nothing alike. Sure, they were both tall, but Sawyer was big in a scary way. Travis, not so much. They had music in common, but that made sense. Why would Sawyer work for a musical family if he wasn’t into music? Sawyer was good, too—he and Travis had numerous spontaneous jam sessions during their last tour. If Sawyer was picking up on some of Travis’s poses and expressions, it was because the poor guy had spent so much time with them. So much so that, right now, Sawyer looked way too much like her big brother. Poor Sawyer really does need a vacation.
“Okay,” Shalene said. “Let’s go. The players will come out on the opposite side of the stage.”
“Great.” She stopped staring at her now-wary-looking bodyguard and followed Shalene down the ramp and up the metal stairs to the stage.
“Who’s excited?” a voice overhead asked.