Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs by Sharon Hamilton Page B

new music, keeping himself in shape and not drinking too much on the road—keeping it between the lines with the ladies as much as possible—he was nothing like his best friend sitting next to him in the truck. Those habits didn’t get him a record deal, but they did lead him on the path he was on right now. And that was the real one he wanted. It wasn’t just what he told himself. It was the truth.
    “I apologize, Thomas. You’ll have to forgive me if the old green-eyed monster raises his ugly head from time to time. I’ll get over it as soon as I get home and Lizzie gives me that big kiss I’ve been promised.”
    “No offense taken, Jameson. I know how it must feel. But to tell the truth, you did the right thing. Your little lady is the prettiest thing I’ve seen. Your daughter is precious. That’s not going to be part of my future. So I’m just kicking up hay while I can.”
    “Fair enough.” The silence was good for them. Thomas had a way of relaxing him, the constant for so many years. He would have done anything for Jameson back before his decision to join the Navy. Jameson had left him out in the cold, on his own. If anyone should be sore, it should be him. But none of that needed to be expressed. It was just understood.
    “So, we stop by for a little sound check first, then head over to the suites to get ready.”
    “Suites?”
    “I got you a nice place, Jameson. Big old jetted tub, king bed, with a view overlooking downtown Nashville. You open those windows and you’ll hear music all night long, if you want.”
    “I’ll be sleeping, I’m sure. Been awhile since I’ve been up on stage, for even two songs. And that’s all I’m planning on playing, if it’s okay with you.”
    “Fine by me. You want to open?”
    “You mean open the opener?”
    Thomas laughed. “That’s it. I’ll wander on stage at the end of your second song—which one are you singing?”
    “She’s Got My Eyes.”
    “Oh, that’s a beauty. You’ll have all the ladies in a stampede.”
    “That’s not what I’m here for. How many times do I have to say it, Thomas?” Jameson’s irritation was dampening his mood. “Quit putting that action in my night. I’m not doing anything like that.”
    “Oh hell, I was just joking. I know that. I’ll stop teasing you now that I see you’re sensitive about that.”
    Jameson didn’t like that Lizzie had to trust him. Was he afraid he’d slip back into his old ways? He didn’t think so, but he wasn’t looking forward to appearing that he did. He wished he didn’t have to perform and look available when he wasn’t. But it was part of how he had to play the game. Give them the fantasy.
    “Not sensitive, my friend. Just damn careful. I’m like a teenager with his first car. Been doing nothing but being an old married man and father. But I’m not perfect, and damn, I still like to look.”
    “I’ll just bet you do.”
    They parked outside a side entrance to the ampitheater. The open-air venue looked like a football stadium in the daytime. At night with all the lights and screaming fans, it would feel smaller. Of course, maybe there wouldn’t be any screaming fans for him. That was his job, to help warm them up.
    He followed Thomas through the door, avoiding some young skinny music movers who were hauling in equipment. The hair color and piercings, along with full sleeves of tats told him everything he needed to know about the young star from Calgary. Jameson also knew the crowd would be young, not his usual fans. He was suddenly relieved by that.
    “I gotta warn you. They don’t drink. But man, do they smoke weed. They won’t mind if we have a bottle of Jack on the stage, either.
    The stage looked like a movie set from a Roman gladiator movie. Huge white imitation stone columns stood in a cluster, one positioned to look like a ruin and was broken, on its side. Large sheets of shiny fabric blew in the wind in deep golds and blue colors. One of the band members was