by Kate Kisset
“I did. Although I kept waking up. Must be the weather or something. Or maybe I’m worried about moving.” Becca wasn’t about to tell her mom she had the same dream about Boone again—the waterfall dream of the first time they made love—twice since she moved back to Lonesome. And both times Becca woke up at the exact moment in the dream when she and Boone were on their horses riding home. And she cried both times, because she didn’t want to ride away from the waterfalls. She wanted to stay there, lying in Boone’s arms, where he’d never let her go. The dreams left her exhausted, like she’d been crying for hours in real life.
“So, Georgia and Harlan had a girl.” Her mom opened the dishwasher, and a puff of steam escaped from the compartment. She bent down, inspecting the plates.
“Yep. And they’re both happy and healthy. Here, let me help unload,” Becca offered, waving her mom away.
“If you insist.” Joanne grinned. Her smooth, unlined face was nothing short of miraculous. She was in her late forties, medium height, and trim, and every man over the age of forty in Lonesome had asked her out. Joanne hadn’t dated much since her husband passed, but it wasn’t because she didn’t have the opportunity. “And you were there with the family in the waiting room the whole time?”
“Not the whole time. Just for a few hours with Boone and Colt.”
“Uh-huh,” her mom nodded. “And you’re sure you didn’t make a rash decision about Harrison?”
“Positive.”
“Because that wouldn’t be fair to anyone, including you.” Joanne passed her two warm plates.
Becca trotted to the upper cabinet over the coffee maker and put them away. “Come on, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side.” Bent over the dishwasher, Joanne passed her several mugs. “I’m only looking out for you. I’m not sure you’ve been thinking straight since you’ve been home.”
Becca frowned, stacking the mugs on the open shelf by the kitchen sink. “Harrison and I hadn’t even discussed getting married. I couldn’t say yes, I just couldn’t, not with a clear conscience.”
“Come.” Her mom closed the dishwasher door. “Those can wait.” She led Becca to the small floral loveseat in the adjacent family room. “Sit.” Joanne patted the cushion.
Becca plunked down beside her. Her mom was right, as usual. Becca hadn’t been exactly Zenned out since she moved home to Lonesome.
“Woman to woman, did you say no to Harrison because of Boone?”
“What?” Becca huffed. “No. No one on this planet could compare to Boone. I didn’t even tell him Harrison and I broke up. We got into a massive fight at The Owl a few nights ago, by the way.”
“Why didn’t you tell him you split up? I don’t understand.”
Becca groaned. “Because I didn’t want Boone’s brain to go exactly where yours just did. I don’t want him to feel guilty about anything, or worry he has to get back together with me because I didn’t get engaged to Harrison because of him. He didn’t even notice I wasn’t wearing an engagement ring last night.”
“But he did kiss you in the parking lot.”
“On the cheek,” Becca clarified.
“Hmmm.”
“The truth is, Harrison just isn’t the right guy for me, and I didn’t realize it until he proposed.”
“And you didn’t lead Harrison on in any way?” Her mother’s brows knitted.
“No. I was honest with him. Yes, I moved back to Lonesome partly because of Harrison’s transfer, but also because my physical therapy is over. I’m better and wanted to be closer to you. I actually thought I’d be able to find a job here. And I didn’t move in with him, even though he begged me to.”
“And?”
“And what? There’s nothing wrong with Harrison.”
She’d always had to fight tears when she thought of how she hurt him. Becca wasn’t the heartbreaker type. “He was so disappointed he never wants to see me again. I just didn’t see myself growing old with him, Mom. Gawd, I didn’t know what to do.” She blew out a sigh and a few salty tears tumbled down her cheeks. “Do you think I should’ve said yes?”
“Oh, sweetie. Of course not.” Her mother wrapped her warm, consoling arms around her. “I didn’t mean to put you in the hot seat. I just wanted to make sure you said no for the right reasons.”
Joanne shifted on the couch so they faced each other and then cradled Becca’s cheeks in her soft hands. “You’re only twenty-seven, for goodness’ sakes. There’s no need to rush into anything. And you know I’m on your side, no matter what. You know that, right?”
“I do. Thanks, Mom.” Becca hugged her while she relished being babied just for a few minutes.
Joanne patted her on the back. “Besides, he proposed to you in Billick, not in Lonesome.” She chuckled. “It would never have worked. You would’ve had the same odds of getting a divorce as the rest of the country.”
Becca grinned, breaking out of the hug. “You actually believe that myth?” The fact was, Lonesome did have the lowest divorce rate in the country, and no one knew why. But if you were proposed to, and got hitched, within Lonesome’s city limits, for some reason there was a very good chance you’d stay happily married.
“Not myth. Fact. And I don’t doubt it for a second.” Her mother smiled longingly. “Your dad and I got married at Lonesome City Hall, and I had the happiest twenty years of marriage a woman could hope for.” She rose from the couch and headed back into the gleaming kitchen. “You think I’m kidding?” Joanne teased over her shoulder.
“No.” Becca snickered, joining her in the kitchen. “And thanks for the pep talk. I haven’t told anyone else about the breakup. It felt good to get it off my chest.”
“I’m here whenever you need me. And you know I’m proud of you, don’t you?”
Becca nodded. “I do.” But it still felt good to hear her say it.
“You stuck to your guns, stayed on track, and finished school even though life threw you such a brutal curveball. It wasn’t easy for you out there in California, but as much as I hated for my sister to leave Lonesome, I’m glad she bought that beach house. You really can’t beat an ocean view when your whole world’s turned upside down.”
“Aunt Jane was so generous. She drove me to all those appointments when I couldn’t get around.”
“We’re lucky, aren’t we?” Her mom gave her a kiss on the cheek and opened the fridge. “We could have dinner together if you don’t have other plans. Make the most of you being here. Have you heard from that teacher yet?”
“The soccer player still wants me. I’d have to get another license to work in London, but it wouldn’t be hard to do. We Facetimed this morning. I think I’m going to take that job.”
Her mom shot her a look. “You are?” She went back to rifling through the fridge.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “If he follows through with everything he’s offering, I’m taking it. I don’t have anything here holding me back.”
“Except me.”
Becca’s heart dropped. “No. Don’t say that. I’ll visit you, and you can come to London. You’ll stay with me, at least for a week every now and then, right?”
“Of course I will. I was just having a pity party. Nothing will keep me away, baby. Now let’s talk about this incredible new adventure over dinner. Looks like it’s chicken on the menu.”
“I’d love to, but,” Becca begged off, pulling out her phone. “We have one more Facetime meeting in about five minutes, and then I’m scheduled at The Owl.” Becca dashed down the hall to get ready. “It’s going to be another madhouse. Boone’s playing tonight.”
Chapter Eleven
With only a week left of his contract, Boone skimmed the packed dance floor, combing the dark bar area for Becca. Although he made a habit of forgetting to stock the room himself, tonight she didn't bring his waters to the dressing room like he hoped.
Nicole caught his eye from the center of the crowd and waved.
Boone gave Bobby the cue, and the band kicked into the debut of “Maybe it's Me”.
Boone closed his eyes, trying to block out the world and anything else that would distract him from pouring his heart into the song. He'd been working on it since he sorted through the box of Becca's memories. It wasn't finished yet—he’d only perfected a few verses, and the band had only practiced it once—but Boone felt compelled to sing it. There was something special about the tune. He felt it in his core.
“Maybe it's me,” he sang. “Maybe it's you,” he stretched the note, visualizing Becca, while Carter Ray came in for the harmony just the way they practiced.
Boone opened his eyes and blinked, adjusting to the lights shining down on him. The crowd on the dance floor had splintered into couples.
Nicole waved again, putting her muscle into it this time, giving her arm a wide swoop from left to right over her head—as if he could possibly miss her. She was off to the side now, leaning against the wall with her sister. He nodded, hoping she didn’t think the song was about her.
Boone peered into the bar area and spotted Becca’s white shirt and blonde hair just as Becca turned to him. He didn't close his eyes this time. “Maybe it's the day and the hour, you’ll see, maybe it’s me.”
Even through the darkness, he knew Becca's eyes found his as the slow burn of electricity coursed through his system. He started the next verse and Becca stepped out of the shadows to watch him from the edge of the dance floor, under the twinkly lights.
She stood holding her cocktail tray, as if entranced, making no move to break their gaze while the band played, slowing the tempo.
Bobby went off the grid on lead guitar, taking the crowd on an achingly slow journey to the last line.
Boone focused on Becca until the crowd didn’t exist. This was their private moment and, Harrison be damned, Boone still wanted her as much as he always had.
And, reading the intensity of Becca’s startled stare, he thought maybe, just maybe she was coming to grips with the realization that she still wanted him.
Without taking his eyes off her, Boone grasped the mic and brought it so close to his mouth, his lips touched the metal. The notes were almost a whisper. “Maybe me. Maybe you. Maybe now.”
The room burst into applause as the crowd rushed the stage with hoots and hollers, and he lost sight of Becca. But the impact of her stare kept him on alert, distractedly searching for her for the rest of the show.
Since Linda gave last call an hour ago, most of the bar had cleared out except for a few stragglers. Thankfully Nicole and Christy, scheduled for early morning shifts at the Old Brick Hotel, hightailed it home after his last song.
Boone kicked back at a corner table with his bandmates Jimmy, Bobby D., J. B, Travis, and Carter Ray. The guys didn’t always get together after a show, but were all amped from the off-the-charts, high-energy performance.
“‘Maybe it’s Me’ needs to be on the regular set list. It killed it.” Travis polished off the rest of his beer.
“Top tier tonight, gentleman,” Bobby D. commented, staring off at the stage. “We could rock the Ryman Auditorium doing exactly what we did tonight.”
J.B. propped his elbows on the table. “We’re ready for Stagecoach now. We don’t need any more practice in this honky-tonk, no offense to Linda.”
“This gig will be over before you know it.” Boone fiddled with his beer bottle and checked the room again for Becca. “A little more polish won’t hurt us. Once we hit the road after Stagecoach, there’s no going back. We’ll barely have time to sleep.”
“Any news about the Country Gold award?” Bobby D. asked, looking more hopeful than he should. “My money’s on you to win.”
“Haven’t heard a peep.” Boone chuckled, knowing the nomination would be a long shot.
Where’s Becca hiding? He knew she hadn’t left yet because he’d been keeping an eye out.
“Cab’s here,” Linda called from the front door, waving to the last two customers seated at the bar.
After a half hour, one by one, Boone’s bandmates called it a night and took off, but Boone hung back. He eyed the employee closet door behind the bar. Becca would need to get her things before she left, and he wanted to time it just right.
Finally Becca appeared, coming out of the kitchen. She met his eyes for a moment before opening the closet door.
Boone swiped his beer and got up from the table, sauntering closer to the action while Linda brought a crate of clean glasses in from the kitchen. She started putting them away while Boone leaned against the bar and finished his beer. He left the bottle with a row of empties on the far end near the register.
“Hey,” Becca said softly, coming around to his side, melting him with her silky voice.
Boone grinned, angling his head down to get a better look, finally getting close to the beauty who’d been distracting him all night. “You ready?”
“For what?” She balked, snapping her head back, making him laugh.
“Anything you have in mind, sweetheart.” He hadn’t called her sweetheart in so long, but the word felt right, rolling off his tongue from out of nowhere.
Becca gave him a wide-eyed double take. Laughing nervously, she adjusted her purse strap. “Um.” She frowned, apparently having to mull it over.
“I’m walking you out to your car. Beckett brothers’ code, remember?”
“Uhhh…right.” She raised her eyebrows, checking around her as if she had something to hide, or felt guilty.
“It’s just me,” he offered.
“Can’t break the code.” She eyed him as they started for the door near the stage, exiting to the back parking lot. “I heard from Georgia this morning. How’s your brother doing?”
“Harlan’s beside himself.”
“Congratulations on being an uncle.”
“Thanks.” He wanted to say it could’ve been us. We’d be having babies by now if you hadn’t run from me.
Boone opened the door for her, and they stepped out into the April air, getting a heady whiff of jasmine from the vine next to the door.
“Smell this,” Becca said, burying her nose in a stem of white flowers.
“I can smell it from here, along with your coconut perfume.”
She pulled back from the plant, shifting to him. “Lotion,” Becca corrected with a sly smile. “Well.” She shrugged, pointing to her car parked beside his in the empty lot. “This is me,” she said, “but you know that already.” She shrugged and laughed when they reached her compact. “Short walk, but thanks.”
The car beeped and the click of the doors unlocking punctuated the still night.
Boone reached for her hand under the moonlight filtering through the canopy of trees lining the lot. “Don’t go.”
Becca’s crystal blue eyes shot back at him, questioning, as Boone ran his fingers down her arm to her silken wrist. He gently unfolded her fingers, and took the key fob out of her palm. “Did you like the song?”
“The new one?” She eyed him, nodding. “I did. It was really pretty.”
“Good,” he said, cautiously stroking her hand, as if she were a stray cat about to bolt. “Are you going to say anything about the way you were staring at me all night?”
“I wouldn’t call it staring,” she evaded, and he could’ve sworn she blushed. “I mean, the whole room was watching you.” She chuckled, rubbing her neck. “They paid good money, waited in line to see you.” At less than a foot away, heat radiated from her, and he could almost hear her heartbeat. “I was just listening to the song like everyone else.”
“But you can’t resist me.”
She parted her lips to say something, and most likely give him another excuse, but he wasn’t going to let her. He’d had enough.
“You can’t help yourself around me, can you, Becca? Because you know how we are together and what I can do to you. How we make each other feel. And you know what? I’m going to be selfish tonight. I want you
Becca, and I know you want me.”
“Boone,” she whispered, “I need to tell you about the jo—”
“No. We’ve done enough talking.”
She blinked. The mix of surprise and desire lingering in her expression made it impossible for him to hold back.
Boone reached out and cupped her cheeks. Holding her face in his hands, he bent down, tracing his thumbs over her luminescent skin, his skin, his Becca, wanting to take her then and there.
“You’re mine tonight, Becca. And you and I both know when I’m inside you, I won’t be your second choice.”
“Never, you could never be…second anything, Boone.” Her eyes filled. “I was just going through so much, I couldn't be with someone who wasn’t honest with me.”
He ran his thumb over her lips, not wanting to hear the bullshit.
Even with his hard cock pressing painfully against his jeans, he had to ask. “Did you think for a minute I was fucking around on you?”
“Well, n—"
He reached down under her skirt, stroking the sensitive area between her thighs where the skin touched, and inched up.
“Did I ever, for one second, lead you to believe anything other than I wanted you, I needed you like fucking air? That everything about you was made for me?”
She drew a sharp, heated breath. “No... no... But you were being so weird back then,” she whispered hoarsely, without brushing his roving, knowing fingers away. “You were hiding something from m—”
“Honoring. Not hiding,” he kept his voice quiet, still concentrating on her honeyed skin. “Honoring my brother’s wishes. Do you understand the position he put me in with you? And you ran away.”
“You let me believe you were fine with him having an affair, and I thought maybe you’d do the same. I couldn’t bear to be with you.” She let out a shuddering sigh.
“That's not the way I remember it. You couldn't get enough of me.”
“I...I...”
“You couldn't fuck me fast enough. Just like now.”
“No,” she said in a half whisper-half moan, closing her eyes. “Why do you have to make it all about sex?”
