Song for a Cowboy (Kings of Country 2)

“Now you’re staring.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what she was thinking. But he had a feeling he was going to find out soon enough, whether he liked it or not.

Her gaze sharpened as her smile faded. “I’m also trying to figure out why you’re here.”

“You could ask.” He shrugged. “Straight talk, straight answers.”

Her sigh was all exasperation. “You broke her once in a way that made me hate you. Now I see her light up over you again and I can’t help but remember that.” She glanced at Emmy. “I want you to leave her alone, Brock. I want you to go away and stay gone.” A deep V formed between her brows as her gaze searched his. “But Emmy’s cared more about making other people happy than being happy herself for too long. She deserves to be happy. And if you’ll stay and make her happy, that’s what I want for her… How’s that for straight talk?”

Every one of Krystal’s words made an impact. Was she saying Emmy Lou was unhappy? But this, all of this, was the life she’d wanted. All she wanted. And how the hell had he broken her? That was a punch to the throat. “You might want to check your facts. Most of what you just said isn’t true.” He didn’t want to open old wounds, but he had to set Krystal straight. His gaze met hers. “Krystal, you have to know I would never—”

“You two look far too serious.” Emmy Lou’s gaze bounced between the two of them, lingering on his mouth just long enough to make him smile. Her gaze fell away, her cheeks flushed pink.

All he could do was stare.

“What sort of reunion is this?” Krystal asked, nudging her sister. “You know everyone in the room is expecting more. Like you, Brock, say, ‘Hi, Emmy, you’re beautiful.’ Then Emmy, you’d say, ‘Thanks, Brock, hug me in your tree-trunk arms.’”

Brock had to laugh. Emmy did, too.

“She has a point,” Emmy said, breathless.

“My arms are tree trunks?” He teased.

She laughed. “Maybe we should…hug.” She swallowed, her cheeks more red than pink now. “If people are expecting—”

“Don’t want to let the fans down.” He took her hand. But once he’d pulled her into his arms, he almost groaned from the feel of her against him. He got lost in the slide of her arms around his neck, the way she rested her head against his chest…and the sweetest sigh he’d ever heard slipping from her mouth. Like maybe this was what she’d been waiting for, too.

“That should cover it,” Krystal said. “Really. Probably good now. Anytime.”

His arms fell away and Emmy stepped back, but her green eyes had a hold on him, so he stood there staring for the whole damn room to see.

“Well, shit.” Krystal was focused on something over Emmy’s shoulder. “Momma’s headed this way.” She grabbed Emmy’s hand. “That’s my cue to leave. Sorry, but you’ll have to face her alone.” She squeezed her sister’s arm and walked off.

Even though they walked past one another, close enough to touch, Krystal and CiCi avoided making eye contact. “Problem?” he asked, glancing Emmy’s way.

“Family stuff.” Emmy’s smile wavered. “What did you think?” She’d gone back to nibbling the inside of her lip, staring at his arm—his chest.

“Of the concert? Or the reunion?” He chuckled. “You need to ask?”

She glanced his way. “I’m glad you came.” There was the smile he loved.

His pulse picked up. “Me, too.” There was no place else he’d rather be.

Until CiCi King joined them. “You two lovebirds over here telling secrets?” Her voice was high enough to be heard by anyone listening. From where he stood, a good portion of the room did seem to be listening. Not that he cared. He did care about the warning bells that CiCi King’s grin triggered. “Do I want to know what the two of you are talking about?”

“The concert.” He nodded. “It was something.”

“Something?” CiCi’s brows rose. “I’m glad you think so.” She draped an arm around Emmy’s waist, lowering her voice. “After we get a few pictures of you two, go mingle, Emmy. You know how this works. If we’re going to keep this #Bremmy hashtag trending, we need to keep everyone guessing about you two.”

How this works? He swallowed. We? He risked a look Emmy’s way, but she was staring at a basketball photo on the far wall, her smile flat. Something hard and cold settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Your agent is sharp as a tack and full of ideas,” CiCi kept going. “You’d almost think that whole k

itten business was a setup from it working out so well,” she whispered, patting his arm. “Don’t worry, Connie told me all about your big plans, Brock. On and off the field. And if all of this will fast-track your comeback, you know we’re happy to help.” She hugged Emmy. “Hank and Emmy have always had a soft spot for you.”

A buzzing started in his ears. What the fuck is she saying? That she and Connie had cooked up this whole Bremmy thing? That this was all for PR? For headlines? That’s bullshit. Connie would never reach out to this woman. For one thing, his agent was a control freak. Trying to imagine her and CiCi working together… No way. The rest of it? Was all of this a media stunt? Emmy’s smile? That was real… The cold was bone deep now. At least it helped numb the painful throb of his heart.

“Hank, sugar.” CiCi waved Hank over about the same time a photographer showed up. “Big smiles, y’all.”

He was pretty sure he didn’t smile. Not with CiCi’s words cycling through, over and over. She was a liar. But was it all a lie? He and Emmy… The only truth between them was attraction. Him hoping for anything more was only setting himself up for hurt—like this right here. After everything he’d been through, he knew better. He knew to keep Emmy Lou and the rest of the Kings at arm’s distance. But all it took was one look from her, one damn smile, and he willingly headed into a guaranteed clusterfuck of heartache.