Girl With Guitar by Caisey Quinn Page B

“Who?”
    “The redhead you left the bar with. Shelby ?” Kylie hoped it sounded like she was just making casual conversation. She was irritated and had no clue as to why.
    Trace laughed so loud it made her head hurt a little. “No. Why? You jealous?”
    Her face went hot and she knew it was probably glowing with humiliation. Thank goodness it was dark out and the streetlamps dotting their path weren’t bright enough for him to see her. Because oh hell . She was jealous. And very stupid, apparently.
    “Yeah, I am. I’m really into redheads.” She prayed he would just drop it. No such luck. He stopped dead in his tracks behind her. “Joke,” Kylie assured him, turning to grin at his slightly open mouth.
    “Hey, it’s okay by me if you’re into girls,” he told her as he began walking again. “It would explain why you seem to be repelled by me. Actually, it would do wonders for my ego.”

A s they climbed onto the bus, Trace offered her a hand. Even hazy from the alcohol, she was aware that his touch singed every nerve ending in the palm of her hand to life. She overheard Pauly arguing with someone on the phone. Or at least, she assumed he was on the phone and not shouting at someone in person. Thankfully his room was up front so she wouldn’t have to deal with him too. She desperately needed to brush her teeth and wash her face. A shower sounded great but like it might be too much work. Being drunk was exhausting.
    Trace helped her back to her room. She turned to thank him but he disappeared out the door before she could say anything. Stripping off her clothes, she decided to take a shower after all. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. Just as she reached to open her door, it slid away from her.
    “Thought you might—” Trace began but stopped when he took in Kylie’s state of undress.
    “Um, thanks,” she told him, reaching out to take the bottle of water he held in his outstretched hand.
    Her towel slipped down a few inches as she sipped the water. She couldn’t help but notice that Trace looked away. She remembered his words from earlier. He was wrong. She wasn’t repelled by him. In fact, judging from the way he was refusing to look at her, even to so much as sneak a peek, it seemed more like it must be the other way around.
    A fter a hot shower, she felt a lot better. Still slightly woozy, but better. Mentally berating herself for getting into such a stupid situation, she pulled on a tank top and a pair of girly boxers. Steven had seemed nice, but something about the look on his face when she’d mentioned Pauly and the playing doctor comment had made her uncomfortable. Thank goodness Trace had shown up when he did.
    Just as she was about to lie down, she realized she hadn’t ever actually thanked him. Punching the poor guy was probably over the line, and her less than graceful exit had kind of pissed her off and made her sick, but Kylie knew good intentions when she saw them. She owed him a thank you. She hated owing people. So she threw the covers off and got out of bed.
    She crept out into the hall and past the kitchen. Trace’s door was shut but she could see light from underneath. Just go back to bed and thank him tomorrow . But she really didn’t want to mention this night ever again. So she knocked softly.
    “Come in,” she heard a muffled voice say.
    A small lamp on the bedside table and the bluish glow of a flat screen television lit the room. It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust. But when they did, oh. Oh. Trace sat shirtless in a chair by the enormous bed. He had taken one boot off and was working on the second.
    “Hey,” she began as the entire purpose for this late night visit slipped right out of her mind. His second boot hit the floor with a soft thud.
    “Hey,” Trace answered, standing and shoving his hands in his pockets. “What can I do for you?”
    “Um, wow, your room is huge,” she blurted out.
    Trace chuckled softly. “Yeah, for a bus I guess it