Hillbilly Rockstar (Blacktop Cowboys 6)

“What?”

“Like I’m enough.”

Devin pulled out and gently spun her around, holding her face in his hands and kissing her. What would it take to get her to believe he didn’t want anyone else—just her? Didn’t she know how rare and special it was that for the first time in his adult life he’d found a woman who wanted him just for him, not for the outward trappings?

Her arms circled his waist, and she spread her hands over his shoulder blades, digging her nails into his skin.

He slowed the kiss and spoke softly when their lips were a breath apart. “You’re beyond enough. You’re—this is so much more than anything I thought I’d ever have.”

“You trying to turn my knees weak?”

“Yep, because you’ve got an awfully strong will.”

She laughed softly.

Devin placed one last kiss on her sweet lips and he stepped back to right his clothing. He headed to the bathroom to flush the condom. He washed his hands and his face, staring at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look different on the outside, but inside was a whole other matter. Being with Liberty changed him. Even if she didn’t—know it—or believe it—he did and that was all that mattered.

Liberty had already concealed her gun in that funky, slim-fitting pantsuit she wore and waited by the door. “What time are you supposed to be at the children’s hospital?”

“In an hour. Traffic is notoriously bad here, so we’d better get goin’.”

Those magnetic eyes searched his. “Did you call a car service?”

“No. Crash rented me a car.”

“Devin. I don’t know how safe—”

“No one will recognize me. Plus, I wanted to take you someplace nice for supper.” He tugged on a chunk of her blue hair. “You know how I am after these things. You deserve a decent meal for havin’ to deal with my brooding.”

Everything started out all right at the children’s hospital. The staff had set up a big room for them. In addition to designating a performing area, they’d arranged a table for a craft project. The slightly horrified look on Liberty’s face when she realized she’d have to make something out of tongue depressors and cotton balls forced him to turn away to hide his grin.

Devin always spent time with the nurses and aides before the visit. Medical science and the doctors might work miracles, but these people were in the trenches with these kids every day, every night, every step of the way.

These were the true heroes.

As much as he wanted—needed—to do these visits, they weren’t easy. No matter how many times he’d done them, he walked into the hospital with a tight knot in his stomach. Usually at the thirty-minute mark he’d realize he’d relaxed and that knot loosened. It felt natural joking around with the kids, singing a few songs. Letting the oldest kid in the room jam on his acoustic guitar.

Normally Liberty remained outside during these visits. But today she sat in the corner—farthest away from the craft table—and closest to him.

He’d just finished playing one of his kid-friendly songs, “That Dog Don’t Hunt,” when he asked if anyone had a request.

A frail-looking girl in the back shuffled forward, dragging her IV behind her. She stopped right in front of him and wheezed until she caught her breath. “I have a request.”

“Sure, sweetheart. What would you like to hear?”

“‘You Are My Sunshine.’”

That knot in his belly tightened up again. He never played this song, even though it was great for kids to sing along to. He never played that song because it was the first—and last—song his sister had sung. He managed to ask, “Why that song?”

“My sister sings it to me when I’m sad to cheer me up.”

“Are you sad today?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“Because my sister couldn’t come visit me this week. I miss her.”

“If I play it, will you sing along with me?”

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really.” He strummed the opening chord. “What’s your name?”

“Michelle.”

That’s when his world fell in. That’s when he couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t move; he couldn’t think. He stared at the girl in front of him—the same age, the same coloring as his sister—and for a split second, her image wavered and she was his Michelle.

The knot in his stomach crawled into his throat and threatened to choke him.

He must’ve made some distressed sound, because Liberty was by his side in an instant. She smiled at the girl and said, “Give us a moment, okay?”

Then Liberty’s cool hand rested on the back of his neck and her voice broke through the roaring in his ears. “Devin. Breathe. You’re all right. Just take a quick break.”

He moved his mouth, but no sound came out.

But somehow, tears were streaming down his face. Every anguished second he’d spent missing and mourning his sister rolled over him in an unending wave of sorrow.

Liberty pried his fingers off the neck of his guitar and plucked it out of his hands. She faced the room, blocking him from view.

“You guys ever get a frog in your throat?”

A few kids made a ribbit ribbit sound.

She laughed. “Just like that. It even happens to professional singers. So while Devin gets a drink and tries to drown that frog, you’re stuck doing a sing-along with me. Problem is . . . I don’t play guitar.”