I was fine just photographing him. Watching Wade Bishop through my viewfinder like a normal, well-adjusted woman with a completely manageable crush.
Just the hottest country star in Texas, headlining the ranch this week.
Then his backup vocalist went down and somehow I’m the replacement — pressed up next to him every night learning harmonies while my brain melts out of my ears. I was handling it. Barely.
Then his ex rolled in with a better voice, better legs, and a real clear plan to reclaim her spot — onstage and off. His voice alone could finish me. The rest of him? I don’t stand a chance.
