I took off the lid of my beverage so it would cool down and pulled out my cell. I typed in the password and lowered my phone to the table, glancing up to see where Miss Homecoming Queen was. Because I wasn’t paying attention, my phone crashed into my cup of coffee and hot liquid spilled across the table and dribbled to the floor. Gritting my teeth, I stood in one jerky movement, barely escaping the spilled coffee, and I glanced around for napkins to clean up the mess. There was a counter on the other side of the room that had supplies, so I strode over just as a certain someone was putting extra sugar into her non-fat latte. Whatever. I didn’t have time to contemplate her quirky behavior. I grabbed a handful of napkins and was about to head back to my table when I observed her mixing in artificial sweetener in addition to the three sugar packets she’d just dumped into the drink.
“Is that sweet enough for you?” The words spewed out of my mouth without a second thought.
She glanced up at me, her eyes widening like a baby deer. “What?”
“Your drink. Is it sweet enough for you?” I sounded more irritable than I actually was, but then again, I wasn’t feeling my best today.
“Uh… It is now.” She frowned. “Why all the hostility?”
I blinked. “I’m not hostile. I just don’t understand why someone would order a non-fat drink and then dump all that sugar in it.” I let out a laugh. “And then on top of that, add artificial sweetener. That’s gross.”
“It’s my drink. That means I’ll make it the way I want. Is that a hard concept for you to grasp?”
I ignored the question and decided to move on to something far more interesting. “What’s with the farm-girl ensemble? Do you get a lot of attention dressed like that?”
Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at me in disbelief. “Did you just call me a farm-girl?”
“Yeah, you have to admit—”
“Look, buddy, I saw you staring at me earlier, and the brooding bad boy thing is not doing it for me.” She scrutinized me up and down like I was a bug she wanted to squash between her fingers. “I’m married, so go away, please.”
She held up her left hand and a diamond band sparkled on her ring finger. For one quick second, a flash of disappointment spread through me, but I got over it pretty fast.
I glanced down, feeling ashamed for making a big deal out of nothing and then I noticed an interesting detail I hadn’t seen earlier. She had no clue she’d taken something out of the bathroom with her, and if I were more of a gentleman, I would discretely tell her in a way that wouldn’t call attention to the problem.
But since I didn’t want to make it that easy, and since she clearly enjoyed drama, I didn’t bother containing my smirk. “If you want to know why I was staring”—I pointed at her boots—“there you go.”
She glanced down and gasped. A piece of toilet paper had attached itself to the bottom of her right boot, most likely when she’d gone to the restroom earlier. She must have been walking around with it ever since.
She flushed bright red, with anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell. It was probably both. “Oh, wow. I had no idea.”
“Well, now you know.” I snickered and turned to leave, but not before glancing at her one last time. She was glaring at me like I was the biggest jerk alive, and I probably was at that moment.
Her eyes sparked with so much fire that I had the urge to pull her in and place a big fat kiss right on her mouth. Guess I wanted to know if that fire extended to other things as well. But I had a feeling that wouldn’t go over too nicely, and I’d already made her mad enough.
It wasn’t until I’d cleaned up my spilled coffee and was out the door that I felt a deep sense of regret.
No wonder I didn’t have a girlfriend.
I needed to learn to play nice.
Chapter 3
Kayla
I’d finally gotten an opportunity that would further my profession, and I was sicker than a dog. I had a slight temperature and mild body aches, but there was no way I would cancel. Not when my agent had pulled a few strings and gotten me the opportunity of a lifetime.
Well, it wasn’t the opportunity of a lifetime, but it would be good for my career, nonetheless. When Daniel died four years ago, the only thing that kept me going—besides God’s grace—was the desire to rise in the country music industry.
When I was a kid and people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always said I wanted to be a singer like Dolly Parton, without the big hair, and, yes, I really did add that part. Of course, that wasn’t possible for me since my hair was as straight as a board. Thankfully, a decent curling iron did a world of good.
Anyway, despite not feeling well, I had to make this work. I would be doing the opening show for Johnny Hill, a B-level singer from Nashville who had been kind enough to give me a chance. Not that I was completely without experience. I’d done plenty of shows in coffee houses, carnivals, and the like. But this evening would be my first real concert in a stadium able to seat thousands. One day, I hoped to be in a position where another musician had to open for me.
I was about to walk out my front door when someone knocked. Answering, I stared into the face of a delivery guy holding a huge
