took up residence against a wall a good ten feet from the door of the Bluebird, giving her plenty of room. Lying in wait for her was a terrible idea, especially after that window into her mind and most especially after that frown. Frankly, he wouldn’t be surprised if she pulled a gun on him.
But that was a risk he was willing to take.
“Great set,” Kyle said, a note of pride in his voice. “It’s going to be a massive hit. The whole album. Very girl power. I wish I’d written half of it.”
“Be sure to tell the record label that, okay?” Brooke said, her cheeks beginning to hurt with all the smiling she was doing. She valued Kyle’s opinion and the crowd had seemed to enjoy the songs as well, so this was all great.
Except Flash Lawrence was here. What was she supposed to do now?
“I’m so proud of you,” Kyle added, giving her an awkward hug.
She hugged him back but her mind was stuck on Flash. She’d almost, almost gone up to him out there. There were a lot of people milling around, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal if she’d walked up to the bar and asked for something else to drink, right? People wouldn’t have made any connection between her getting a drink and making small talk with a random cowboy, right? Then she could’ve at least figured out why he was here. The only two possibilities she could think of were—this was either a stunning coincidence or...
Or he’d come to see her.
And as she had only mentioned the Bluebird appearance on her Twitter feed two days ago...
She’d bet good money Flash was outside waiting for her. Which meant she had to talk to him. Which meant she had to tell him about Bean. Her son.
His son.
Oh God, this was going to suck.
“Hey,” Kyle said, putting a hand on her arm. “You okay?”
“Fine,” she said, working hard for that smile. She’d kept Bean a secret for a lot of good reasons, but none of them came to mind now that she knew she’d have to tell Flash. Because the alternative was to do exactly what her mother had done—keep on hiding and lying for the rest of her life—and Brooke couldn’t do it. She was done hiding.
Or would be, just as soon as Flash knew. But to Kyle, she said, “Just relieved the new stuff is solid.”
Kyle gave her a worried look. “You sure? I know you, Brooke. I know how you write. That stuff...it seemed kind of personal.”
“We need to get going,” Alex said, all but hip checking Kyle into a wall. Bless her heart. “Sorry, Morgan.”
“Jeez, woman,” Kyle said, rubbing his shoulder. “You should’ve stuck with football.”
Brooke gave him another quick hug and made a not-exactly-quick stop in the ladies’ room. Damn it, she was stalling.
Not hiding anymore, she repeated to herself as she picked up her guitar case. Alex opened the back door for her and, as she walked out into the humid Tennessee air, Brooke felt it again—that tingling at the base of her spine.
“Brooke.”
That was all he had to say for her worst nightmares and her fondest dreams to come true at once because this was really happening.
Flash had come for her.
Oh, God—she wasn’t going to be strong enough because even just the sound of her name on his lips was making her resolve weaken.
It didn’t have the same effect on Alex. “Hey—back off,” she rumbled, stepping in front of Brooke. “Show’s over, buddy.”
“Brooke?” Flash said again. “I just want to talk. Privately.”
Yeah, she knew what happened when she and Flash had any privacy. At least the first time they’d hooked up, in her dressing room, she hadn’t planned to have sex with him. At least, not right then. But Flash was that rare, dangerous creature—an irresistible man.
Okay, so not total privacy. But maybe semiprivate would work.
Brooke put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said quietly as she stepped around her friend. “I know him.”
Alex leaned down to whisper, “I don’t like him.” Of course, her whispering wasn’t exactly quiet and, given Flash’s smirk, it was clear he’d heard.
Yeah, neither would Crissy Bonner. The record label executives would love Flash, though—a showy pro-rodeo cowboy would be great for PR.
But she didn’t want Flash to be a public relations bonanza. She wanted...hell. She didn’t know what she wanted. Except for some privacy. She owed him that much.
“It’s fine. Can you wait in the car?”
Alex glared at Flash and growled. But then she said, “Fine—but only for a few minutes,” as she took the guitar case from Brooke.
Then he did the ballsy thing and approached Alex. “Hi. Flash Lawrence. And you are?”
Alex gave him a look that made lesser men turn tail and run, but Flash held his ground. He wasn’t a coward, that much was for certain.
With a quick look at Brook, Alex said, “Alex Andrews. Don’t try anything funny.” She jabbed a finger in Flash’s direction and pointedly did not shake his hand.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. As Brooke can tell you, I don’t have a sense of humor.” She couldn’t help the smile that danced over her lips at that bold-faced lie. She remembered quite well how easily she’d laughed with Flash. It would’ve been one thing if he’d just been amazing between the sheets. But he’d been so dang easy to be with—kind and funny and tender and hot and...
He’d made her like him.
She’d liked him a good deal. Seeing all those news headlines about his violent temper and plea deals had felt like a betrayal, almost.
Because she’d been wrong about him.
Had any of it been real?
Flash stood his ground as Alex crowded into his personal space on her way to the car. The one with the baby bucket-seat base in the back seat. True, there was a blanket thrown over it because God forbid anyone should notice that Brooke Bonner had a child restraint system in her car, but still. Hard evidence of Bean was practically within line of sight.
How was she supposed to do this, damn it?
Because Flash looked so much better in person than he did in her dreams. Maybe it was just the jacket. But maybe it was him. There was something almost...calm about him.
With a huff, Alex slammed the driver’s side door. It wasn’t like Brooke and Flash were alone—the door to the Bluebird’s kitchen was still propped open and Kyle might come out at any second. But
