Jase Sutter appeared to be genuinely upset over having to deliver Wade’s message to her, and he was nice, friendly. After Wade, she needed some of that. That was one of the only reasons she’d invited him to give her his demo. During his slaughter of Shot Through The Heart, his voice had been a little too raspy and raw. It squeaked in the upper range, and graveled up in the lower register. Leigh didn’t know if that was his normal tone, or if it was a product of nerves or maybe the fact it was butt cold outside and he was freezing his off in his underwear on her porch. The mastered cut he was about to give her should answer that question.
Leigh walked to her stereo cabinet and opened the glass doors to eject the latest bad CD she’d listened to. She tossed it in the box then turned when she heard cowboy boot heels clicking on her hardwood floors. She was almost disappointed to see Jase had put on jeans and a t-shirt while he was outside. The tight, black t-shirt t-shirt accentuated the curve of his biceps and the jeans cupped him in all the right places, but the half-monty he’d given her on the porch had definitely been better. It was no wonder the messenger service hired him. They probably made a fortune from requests for this guy. Hell, women probably sent themselves singing telegrams just to see him again.
Looking indecisive, he tapped the CD case on his hand, before he handed it to her. “This is a song I wrote and recorded two years ago. I’ve had a few people interested in buying the rights to the song, but I want to sing it.”
Leigh’s heart did a little stutter-step in her chest. Things were definitely looking up with Mr. Sutter. “You write too?” she asked.
“Yeah, I do, but this is the only one I’ve recorded. It’s special to me,” he said, with a softness in his brown eyes that intrigued her. It made her damned curious to hear the song and see if she could figure out what caused it.
Leigh reached out and took the CD and opened the case. “If it’s good, you should have sold it. If you write, there’s more where that song came from,” she advised.
Getting emotionally attached to a song was a usually death sentence for it in the studio. The artist wouldn’t allow the changes that needed to be made to make it commercially successful.
“Nah, it’s a package deal. I don’t want anyone else singing it,” he said, sticking out his hand to her. “I’ve got to go, but my number is on the CD cover, so you can give me a call if you’re interested.”
“You don’t want to stick around while I listen to it?” Leigh asked with surprise. That was really strange, this man was really strange. Most aspiring artists would be falling all over themselves to see what her reaction was. But then Jase Sutter probably had no idea who she was. There were a ton of small obscure record labels in Dallas, and he probably thought she worked for one of those.
“Nah, I’ve got to go stay with my momma while my dad goes to work,” he replied, and his mouth ticked up into a half smile. “But thanks for listening to it.”
“My pleasure,” she replied, hoping that would be the case. There was something about this man that called to her, a freshness in his attitude, an honesty in his eyes that she didn’t run across often in the business.
“Thank you for the musical brush off and the roses,” she said with a wink, and Leigh could swear he blushed. “Since you write, I may have you do one to deliver to Wade Lawson soon.”
Jase’s smile faded, and his eyebrows slammed down over his eyes. “I’d be happy to do that, but if I found the guy I’d probably want to teach him some manners the old-fashioned way,” he said, with his hands fisted at his sides, a muscle working in his jaw.
Jase Sutter certainly had them to teach, and Wade could definitely stand to learn them. But Leigh sure hoped the fierce look on his face didn’t mean he had anger issues like Wade did. All she needed was another fighter on her hands. Or a drinker. “You don’t drink, do you Jase?” she asked. Please say no.
“A beer now and again, but not when I’m working,” he replied, but his eyes were on the clock above her mantle. “I really do have to go,” he said turning toward the door, but he pivoted back to stick his hand out to her. “Thanks again, and I’m sorry about the telegram and roses.”
“No need to apologize, you were just the messenger,” she said, taking his hand. Their palms met and electricity zipped up her arm, it felt like it hit her square in the heart when he gave her a blinding smile. She jerked her hand back to rub it on her shorts, and Jase turned toward the front door. Leigh was transfixed by her favorite part of the male anatomy, his being especially nice, until he quietly shut the door behind him.
Becky McGraw. Cupid’s Cowboy: Cowboy Way Book 4 (Kindle Locations 312-342). Becky McGraw.