Risk it All

Wonderin' how the hell we got to here

MARCH 2012

Brantley's POV:
     Standing among rack and racks of clothing, I glared at the petite red headed woman standing in front of me who was currently the cause of the migraine I felt coming on. For the past few weeks, this woman had been trying to get me to change up my wardrobe to which I had fought back. I didn't see what was wrong with jeans, black tshirts, and my ball cap but my stylist, the pain in the ass that she was, said I needed to add more color. She said that my fashion sense needed to evolve if I wanted to stay relevant in my career to which I didn't give two shits about. Sure, I loved performing and I loved what I did, but if my fans were simply my fans because of the clothes, then I didn't need them. Just like right now, the woman was holding up a teal, yes a fucking teal button up that she insisted would make my green eyes pop. 

"Bailey Mae Dunn, there is no chance in hell that I am wearing that. That thing could make my eyes turn into diamonds for all I care but I ain't wearing that shit. No chance in hell of it ever happening" I seethed as I removed my hat and rubbed my head.

"Brantley Keith, how many times do I have to tell you that you need to switch it up. You don't want to become the guy that is known for cut off t-shirts do you?" she asked as she fisted her hands on her hips, which would have been intimidating if she didn't look so damn cute when she was pissed.

     Which was a major problem. For the past few months, this woman who rang in at a whopping height of 5 foot even ", that had curves for days, had filled my dreams to the point that I was finding it hard to be in the same room with her without acting out some of those scenes. In fact, the dream last night had started out just like this. She and I argued over my damn wardrobe before I had lifted her and planted a kiss on her lips in order to shut her up. In my dream, I had fucked her into my way of thinking as to my wardrobe staying the same.
     But, the fact that I had been burnt over the years by the women who claimed to love me and want more than just a roll in the hay had me living by the motto "single forever". So, no matter how much I wanted to lift her and shut her up with a kiss, no matter how much I wanted to tangle my hands in that red hair, and no matter how much I wanted to see how soft her skin was, I wouldn't act on it because I knew without a doubt that if I ever did get a taste, I would be hooked.

"Babydoll, I'm all for experimenting, but my wardrobe ain't something I'm comfortable changing up. I am who I am. I wear black, leather, rings and chains. I can't add teal to the mix and keep my bad boy image intact. I'd never hear the end of it." I said pulling myself from my elicit thoughts. "Adding in red and maybe some dark blues I'm okay with but this neon, flashy crap aint gonna happen."

"Fine" she said defeatedly. "I'm just doing my job B."

"I know that babydoll, but you had to know when you held that up that I was going to fight you on that. I don't even wear those colors on the golf course. I know damn well I ain't wearing them on stage." I replied, unable to take the look in her eyes. Walking over to her, I placed index finger under her chin and tilted her head back. I wish I could say that it was the first time that I had caught myself getting lost in those green eyes but it wasn't. "How about we just stick to the basics. Like I said, I'm okay with reds and dark blues, maybe even the occasional dark green and white but let's leave the bright colors to Luke. What do you say?"

"Okay." she whispered.

Bailey's POV:
     I was sure I was going to spontaneously combust if Brantley didn't move his hand. Just poof! Up in a cloud of smoke. That or I was going to make the monumental mistake of finally seeing what those full lips of his tasted like. I mean seriously, my skin actually burned where his calloused finger rested on my chin.
     Since I had taken this job as his stylist, I had been fighting the attraction I had for him. Some days I felt like the attraction was mutual, that he wanted to kiss me just as much as I wanted to kiss him especially when he did things like he was doing right now, but most days I felt like he looked at me like gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. On those days, I did my best to avoid him unless it was absolutely necessary because seeing that look did nothing for my self esteem. Thankfully, we only had 2 more shows before I would have a couple weeks to get my head straight.
     Being out on the road with Brantley and Chase had been exhausting to say the least. I was ready to get back to my home in Dawsonville, Georgia. It had been too long and I needed the down time to clear my head and hopefully get my raging hormones under control. That was the only way I was going to be able to continue working for this man who -with a single smile- could charm the pants of a virgin. Don't get me started on what he could do with his laugh! I'm pretty sure that his laugh was what it sounded like when the angels sang in heaven. All deep and sensual, it was a wonder that womens clothes didn't just go up in flames when they were on the receiving end of that smile and laugh.

"I gotta get going. I got sound check. Leave anything that fits into what I said on the bus." said Brantley as he dropped his hand from my chin. I immediately missed his touch. So much so that a moan almost slipped past my lips before I could stop it. And wouldn't that have been a mistake?

"Okay." I replied looking up into his eyes. They were a darker green than mine and told of all the things he had been through and survived. But you could also see the cloudiness that came from getting hurt. I recognized it because I knew my eyes had the same clouds in them.