Chapter 14 - Chase Me, Cowboy

I drag myself out of bed early. Technically, she’s supposed to go home today.

I pull on my pants and grab a busted pack of Marlboros from the dresser. In the doorway, I pause and look back at her. She’s naked, sheet coming up over the rise of her hip to her narrow waist. Her arm is across her breasts, body curled in a fetal position. Her ribs rise and fall as she breathes. This is the most at peace I’ve ever seen her, no trace of a scowl. The urge to go back and sink down at her side is strong. To tuck the strand of hair from her face and touch the silky curve of her jawline.

She is a beautiful woman.

A complicated woman. And I make her even more complicated.

My phone buzzes. It’s been buzzing since she arrived. That’s nothing new. What’s new is that I’ve been putting it on do not disturb for the first time in my life.

Everyone needs something from me, all the damn time. That’s the nature of my job. But just this once, I want to be left alone long enough to feel like a human again. Truthfully, I haven’t felt like that in a while. I thrive while working, but ever since I noticed Coen wasn’t doing well mentally, I started evaluating myself. I noticed I’d never used my kitchen, that I hadn’t been out to Dad’s grave in years, that I slept in hotels more than my own bed. The sex thing was what really got me.

Was I having sex?

Yep, a lot of it. After I sent Coen to Wyoming over a year ago, I had a brief hookup in the bathroom at a work event. Post-fuck, I was washing my hands when I realized I hadn’t had sex lying down in ages. That was a startling realization. It sent me into denial.

So that’s not that weird, right? I said that to myself again and again. Until I asked a few friends on a night out, when we’d had some drinks, what positions they were fucking in. Turned out, I was the odd one out, who had so little time he was doing drive-by fuckings with his phone going off in his back pocket.

I stopped, because that’s embarrassing.

No sex for a whole damn year. I thought it would be hard but then I met Serena and didn’t really want anyone but her, anyway. After that, I was still fucking vertically, but it was all into my own hand.

She stirs. I blink, returning to reality.

I feel like I’m losing my mind. But I feel like that even more when she’s not in my bed.

What if…she stayed? For a few more days, a few more nights.

Softly, I leave the room and go downstairs, my phone and cigarettes in hand. In the kitchen, I make a cup of black coffee. Then, I take it out to the front porch and stand by the railing. In the distance, the ocean is clear and brilliantly blue. The mug burns hot on my fingertips. I wonder how long it has been since I got to do this, and how long until I get the next opportunity to stare blankly over the cliffs.

I take my phone out. It’s buzzing.

Swiping the screen, I hit the speaker button.

“Hey, Marion,” I say.

“I got some problems,” she says, in her bright, quick voice.

Marion Lazlo is the other half of the agency. She’s a sharp, experienced agent in her mid-sixties. When I worked at my first agency, we met during a disaster of a contract and bonded over the sheer misery of it. When we found out we’d both been thinking of leaving the agency, we started talking a lot and ended up with Iron Talent Agency, named for my side because I brought the most clients in. Marion is technically the co-owner, but I’m the one who does most of the actual management.

“I’d be shocked if you didn’t,” I say. “What’s happening?”

“Madi Banker isn’t gonna be able to fulfill that contract if something doesn’t change with her workload,” she says.

I frown, swiping my email open. Nothing in there on Maddy.

“Why?”

“I spoke to her, and she’s making progress on the album, but she’s crashing,” she says, voice tightening.

“Why’s that?” My forehead tightens in a familiar scowl.

I hear Marion’s footsteps, then a door shuts. “Her father is managing her,” she says, voice lowering. “He’s got her making a bunch of different appearances. The poor kid is already worn out.”

“Jesus,” I say.

Banker is a new acquisition to our agency. A young, very promising country star from Alabama who already had a lot of commercial success online. She signed with ITA last year, and we got her a record deal with Houston-Best, already signed, sealed, and delivered. I wasn’t entirely truthful with Coen back in Wyoming because this is my first-ever contract with them, and I want to figure it out without scrutiny. Coen is a little critical of Houston-Best because of some conflicts we had with them before they sold the company.

I have confidence in it—in myself. It’s a really fucking good contract. I would know; I was on the ground fighting for every line in every clause to make sure she wasn’t getting fucked over and everyone got their fair share. Honestly, I’m positive Madi is going to skyrocket the second that album drops. What I didn’t anticipate is her asshole of a father, Noah, trying to run her into the ground and make as much money as he can before she realizes she’s being used.

These situations are tough. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with predatory parents for young talent.

“I can fly out and have a word with Noah,” I say.

“You might have to,” Marion says. “After Coen stepped back, we can’t afford to lose any more work.”

“Boy do I fucking know that.”

“So, fix this,” Marion says crisply. “If you need to take Noah out back and do a little threatening, do it. I didn’t see a thing.”

“Can I have two days? I have something happening here.”

“Oh?”

“It’s personal.”

That gives her pause. “Personal? You don’t do personal.”

She says it lightly, but beneath it, I hear what she means. Jamie Iron doesn’t do personal days because he has no boundaries; his entire life is work; and he doesn’t have any family left. That last part stings a little, even after all this time.

“I got a girl here,” I say gruffly.

It’s not weird for me to admit that; Marion and I are close. She knows the way I am and have been for years. It’s not weird, just uncomfortably vulnerable. There’s a beat of silence.

“Really? You’re having a sleepover?”

“Jesus, I’m not that bad.”

She clears her throat in loud disbelief. “It’s been a while since you had a real girlfriend. Since…what was her name? Amie or something. Since then, you’ve been a menace on two wheels.”

I’m shocked, honestly. I didn’t realize anyone had noticed.

“Who is it?” she asks lightly.

“Nah, better not say.”

That was a more loaded answer than I meant. I should have just said it was nobody, but she wouldn’t have believed me. It would take more than a random encounter to make me shut my phone off.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” I say. “I need a second, some privacy, and then I’ll be on a plane to sort Madison’s account out. Alright?”

She’s quiet for a beat.

“You know, I want you to have someone,” she says. “It hurts that I go home to Craig and you just…go home, to that empty house on the coast.”

“I appreciate that, Mari,” I say gruffly. “Now, quit with the feelings; we don’t do that around here.”

She laughs. “Alright, text me when you resurface.”

“Will do.”

I push my phone in my pocket. The ocean has gotten a little restless in the span of time that conversation took. The placid surface rolls alongside the coastal grass. I wonder whether we’ll have a storm. The image of being holed up here with Serena, while rain and lightning rage outside, is pleasant. Maybe, if I’m lucky, it will, and I can use that as an excuse to keep her longer. I’m not ready for her to go. I’m not ready to explain why.

Hell, maybe I don’t even know why.

Exhausted, I go inside and set my empty cup in the sink. I’m going upstairs because when I’m in that bed with her, I don’t have to think.