“Karas International stock has risen sharply following the news that the shareholder suit against its chief executive officer, Creighton Karas, was dropped earlier this week. Karas commented from the floor of Caesar’s Palace, where he stood at his wife’s side during her run on the craps table. ‘I’m happy to see that my uncle understands that the health of the company is more important than any grudge he has against me personally. We’re looking forward to another record-breaking year in profits.’ There’s no doubt the world will be watching Karas International, and its CEO, closely in the coming months.”
I reach for the radio and flip it from the news station to my favorite channel, The Highway, which features up-and-coming country artists mixed in with all the old favorites.
“Glad they got the part about the craps table in there,” Creighton says.
“And that Dom was as good as his word,” I add.
Creighton lays an arm across the back of my seat. “Yes, yes he was. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
I smile and shift my new Mustang into gear. After Creighton showed me the basics of craps and dared me to lose ten grand, I threw myself into the game wholeheartedly. But I wasn’t able to lose. Nope, I just kept winning, at least until my inner Kentucky girl realized that I could buy a damn car with what I won, and I politely cashed out and walked away with my money.
When we landed in Nashville, I told Creighton I wanted to buy a new car. He asked the driver to take us to the Maserati dealer, but I vetoed his choice in favor of stopping at the Ford dealership. My one concession was allowing him to drag me out of the used-car section to look at the new ones—and I fell in love with a Shelby GT350. It was delivered this morning to the penthouse condo we’re temporarily staying in until we can find a house we both love.
So, the first order of business today is stopping at the studio to finish recording the last of my new songs, and then house hunting.
I floor the Mustang, my laughter echoing in the cabin as Creighton grabs the oh-shit handle above his seat. I’m pretty sure the man is not going to let me drive much, because he doesn’t seem to approve of my newly adopted drive it like you stole it style.
When we arrive at the studio—in record time and all in one piece, I might add—Creighton lays a hand over mine on the gearshift.
“Are you sure you don’t want a driver?”
I tilt my head. “You’re going to lose on this one. I promise.”
He narrows his eyes, and a low sound that mimics a growl comes from his side of the car. “Holly . . .”
“It’ll be fine. I swear. I’m just seeing what she can do.”
“She?”
With my free hand, I pet the steering wheel. “Of course it’s a she. Her name is Cherry Bomb.”
Creighton shakes his head with an indulgent smile. “If you name my cock . . .”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who says I haven’t?”
His gaze sharpens on mine. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
My smile threatens to split my face. “Nope,” I reply, making sure to pop the p. “You’ll just have to wonder.”
“Oh, you’ll tell me. I have my ways.”
I let another laugh break free as I push open my door.
I meet my band in the studio, hugging each of the guys while Creighton shakes their hands. We haven’t seen them since the tour wrapped up, and I think they’re as anxious to lay these tracks down as I am. Once inside the recording booth, I sling Eliza Belle’s strap over my shoulder, and we spend the next several hours getting everything but the vocals recorded.
After a break for lunch, it’s time to finish up. My gaze darts to the glass window of the booth where Creighton leans against the wall just beyond. He’s never heard the lyrics to this one, and I wonder how he’s going to react.
The tracks we just laid down play through my headphones and I start to sing. Normally I tend to record with my eyes shut, feeling every note with my entire body, but today, I can’t help but stare into the eyes of the man I love.
When we get to the end of the chorus, I let loose with everything I have in me.
I thought I’d be lost on Fifth Avenue,
but I was only lost until I found you.
When we finish recording, I remove my headphones and make my way out of the booth. Creighton hasn’t moved from where he’s leaning against the wall. As I walk closer, I note the glassy sheen in his eyes.
When he speaks, his words are low so only I can hear them.
“I was the one who was lost. I just didn’t know it until I found you.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me close. “I love you so goddamn much, Holly. I never want to go back to being that man.”