Song for a Cowboy (Kings of Country 2)

“Well, it hasn’t been good.” He cleared his throat, the anger he’d been fighting damn near making him shake. “Did you talk to CiCi King?” He paced the length of the family room.

“What?” Connie asked.

“Did you call her?” He paused, staring at the framed collage of family photos over the mantel.

“I returned her phone call.” Connie paused. “Which, I’ll be honest, was out of nowhere. What the hell is going on? I don’t appreciate the tone.”

“I don’t appreciate having the rug pulled out from under me by a woman who I know has some sort of ax to grind with me.” Calm down. Breathe. Deep down, he knew Connie would never do or say any of the things CiCi had hinted at.

“Brock Nathaniel Watson.” Aunt Mo chastised him through the screen door. “I taught you manners. Use them.”

He sighed. “Sorry, Connie. I’m acting like an ass.”

“You are.” Connie sighed. “Why don’t we start over?”

“Sounds like a good idea.” He took a deep breath. “Why did CiCi King call you?”

“At first she was looking for advice. Something about a new musician needing an agent or manager. I gave her a few recommendations, but that’s not what I do.”

Brock smiled. When it came to sports, Connie was the best. Entertainment? If it wasn’t sports, she wasn’t interested.

“Then she mentioned you. She’d heard about the Alpha deal and asked if that was a done deal. I didn’t answer, since it’s none of her business. But she kept talking. It became clear she was trying to get me to say the Bremmy thing was the reason the Alpha deal had gone through. I didn’t say a thing. As you know, I don’t discuss my clients’ endorsements or negotiations.”

He sighed. “She made it sound like the two of you had some mastermind plan and Emmy was my fucking golden ticket.”

“Brock,” Aunt Mo hissed.

He walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. “I don’t know why I let it get to me, but it did.” He knew why. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew.

“I don’t, either. And, honestly, I’m a little pissed off. I’ve micromanaged the shit out of your career for the last five years to put you in the best position.”

“And I appreciate it. I appreciate you.” He cleared his throat. “I owe you for sticking with me when no one else would.”

“Next time, remember that before you snap at me.” She cleared her throat. “If I was going to recruit backup—I wouldn’t—it sure as hell wouldn’t be CiCi King. I’ve never heard anything good about that woman. Only to watch your back when she’s around. It sounds like you might need that advice right about now.”

“Sounds like it.” He got himself a glass of water and drained it.

“What did you do to CiCi King? Or her family?” Connie chuckled. “Must have been something.”

He filled up his glass again. “I’ve been trying to figure that out since I left.”

“The logical conclusion would be you and her daughter. You know, America’s sweetheart. The one who makes you grin like a schoolboy—don’t deny it, I have the pictures to prove it. Me and anyone on any social media platform. Anywhere.”

He didn’t deny it.

“Maybe she thinks you’re going to break her daughter’s heart again—”

“I didn’t break her heart. But she damn near totaled mine.” He slammed the cup onto the counter.

Aunt Mo’s firm touch startled him.

He did his best to smile when he said, “That was a long time ago.”

“Not that long ago,” Aunt Mo mumbled.

“It’s my job to give you advice.” Connie paused. “I’m not much of a romantic, Trish will back me up on this, but it sounds like you need to talk to this girl. No audience or distraction or interfering mothers. What’s that old saying about a picture?”

“A picture’s worth a thousand words,” Aunt Mo said.