Cajun Two-Step- The Complete Series

by Leigh Landry

  “Come on.” Natalie pushed her chair away from the table. “Let’s go tear down your kit and get out of here.”

  Kelsey nodded and stood, while Natalie put an arm casually around her shoulder to guide her back to their setup. Thankfully, Eric was no longer standing near that wall. Unfortunately, his hot new thing was also missing, but at least Kelsey wouldn’t have to watch them flirt anymore.

  Natalie went to work, unscrewing cymbals and folding stands, while Kelsey packed up her drums like they each weighed a thousand pounds. Natalie considered accidentally kicking Eric’s bass over, but then they’d need a new bass player. Again.

  Anything had to be better than watching Kelsey go through this agony every few weeks. She and Eric agreed they weren’t good together a long time ago, but that didn’t make it any easier on poor Kelsey, who had to watch him flirt with rich, beautiful women at every fundraiser and private party they played.

  “I’m gonna pull up my car to the door,” Kelsey said.

  “All right.” Natalie continued to fold stands and contemplate ways to torture Eric. It wasn’t entirely his fault Kelsey was hurting. But seriously, the guy could flash that smile and get a date lined up anywhere he went. Why did he have to do it on their gigs?

  She set another stand on the floor in line with the others and caught sight of the new sound guy tearing down his own gear. He caught her looking, and she gave him a wave. Nothing wrong with her finding a little action on a gig. Although she did promise Robin she wouldn’t chase him off.

  Natalie paused, squatting beside the line of stands, and took another look at the guy, admiring his strong arms as he moved equipment around. He might be worth the wait. A week wouldn’t kill her.

  Not like she had time for any extracurricular activities lately anyway. Her life was basically work and gigs and her daughter. No room for much else. That was probably why she missed Camille so much. Or at least one reason. Camille had already been woven into those bits of Natalie’s life. No need to make room between the cracks.

  “Hey, Nat, I need to talk to you!” Robin shouted as she walked across the room to meet Natalie.

  Robin never talked to Natalie alone. Not if she could help it. They had a mutual respect between them as musicians, and they mostly gave a shit about each other, but they were more like uncomfortable relatives than friends. Natalie couldn’t imagine what Robin could possibly want to talk about.

  Natalie stood and brushed her hair out of her face, pulling it over one shoulder. “I told you, I’ll leave him alone for the week.”

  Robin stopped beside her and shook her head. “Not about that.” She pulled two long, white envelopes from her back jeans pocket and held them fanned out to Natalie. “She wanted me to give this to you.”

  “Who?” Natalie recognized Robin’s handwriting on the top envelope. Her cut of their payment for the night. She had no idea what the second envelope could be.

  Once she saw her name in that familiar, delicate handwriting with the little curvy line-doodle underneath it, she knew immediately who it was from.

  “When did you get that?” Natalie snapped. “I thought she couldn’t have visitors her last few days.”

  Robin was quiet for a moment. Natalie could see her chewing on the inside of her mouth. She always did that when she was nervous.

  “Robin.” Natalie strained to keep her voice steady. “When did you get that?”

  “This afternoon.” Robin chewed some more and waved the envelope. When Natalie didn’t take it, she added, “She stopped by the house and asked me to give it to you.”

  “She’s…out?” Natalie’s voice wobbled and her head spun.

  Why didn’t Camille tell her she was out early? And why would she go to Robin’s and not bring this to Natalie herself?

  Unless…

  “She lied to me,” Natalie realized. “About her discharge date. She lied.”

  “I don’t know what she told you, or what’s in this.” Robin sighed.

  Natalie could see the weight that Camille’s task had put on her. Robin clearly didn’t want to be Camille’s delivery person any more than Natalie wanted to be on the receiving end of that envelope.

  “All she told me is she’s leaving town for a while. Didn’t say where.” Robin waved the envelope once more. “I’m sorry, Nat. I wish like hell she’d told you this herself.”

  Robin was almost a full head shorter, but in that moment, Natalie felt smaller. Like the whole world was pressing down on her, and she was melting into the convention center floor.

  Natalie finally took the envelope and ran her fingers over the ink spelling out her name. Then she tucked it, unopened, inside her guitar bag and headed for the door.

  “Nat,” Robin called after her.

  “Going to help Kelsey bring in cases.”

  “Nat,” Robin said, even louder. “If you want to—”

  “I’m fine.”

  Natalie blinked back the hurt and stormed off toward the side door, anything but fine.

  * * * * *

  Shane wound up the last of the cables, while he waited for the band’s drummer to load so he could back his own truck up to the door. He considered offering to help the two women load the drum set. He’d had a long day at work before even starting this gig, so helping them would get him out of there and on his way to sleep faster. His apartment might be empty, except for the kitten one of his coworkers had found crying near the dumpster at work earlier that week, but it was warm and quiet and his bed was soft.

  Unfortunately, the guitar player looked like she was just waiting for someone to unleash hell on. Shane wasn’t about to intentionally put himself in the path of someone aiming to breathe fire.

  “Hey, thanks a lot for tonight.” The bandleader, Robin, handed him an envelope with his name on it. “I know it was short notice, but we didn’t realize we’d need equipment here, and the person who used to run sound isn’t around right now.”

  The band had called the music store Shane worked at looking for help earlier in the week. Since the krewe hiring them had also hired a DJ to play dance music in between short sets, all he had to do was make sure the band sounded decent in the echo chamber of a ballroom they were set up in. He was glad to pick up an extra gig, especially an easy one that paid well.

  He took his payment envelope and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. “Thanks. No problem.”

  “You still good with next Friday?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his eyes trailing to a certain fire-breathing blonde with a great ass carrying a couple of drum stands toward the door. “Absolutely.”

  When he pulled his eyes away, Robin was staring at him with a disapproving frown settled deep into her face. “She just got some bad news,” she said. “I’d keep my eyes to myself for now, if I was you.”

  He nodded in understanding, but he couldn’t help glancing back as the blonde stormed in again for another round of equipment. He could practically see the steam rising from her. “I pity the messenger.”

  Robin chuckled. “I’m still alive so far. She’ll forgive me eventually.”

  “I hope so.” He decided to keep the rest of his thoughts on the matter to himself. Robin probably didn’t deserve the blonde’s wrath, but whoever did…he couldn’t imagine they were ever going to earn her forgiveness. Not that forgiveness was always worth the cost. Not in his experience, anyway.

  When the drummer drove off a few minutes later, Shane replaced her car with his truck near the exit. He loaded all of his sound equipment and secured everything in the back. As he walked around to the driver’s door, he saw the guitar player sitting on ground, her back against the convention center wall and her guitar case on the ground beside her.

  He should have driven off. He was wiped out and the last thing he needed was to stick his nose in this woman’s problems. A smarter man definitely would have left and not looked back.

  But the smart decision wasn’t necessarily the right one. He couldn’t leave a distressed woman alone and potential
ly stranded in the middle of a cold February night.

  Especially when the distressed woman was a cute blonde with a great ass.

  “You all right?” he asked when he got a little closer. Not too close. He wasn’t actually convinced she couldn’t breathe fire.

  She raised her head. Her eyes were glassy and her face was flushed, from both the cutting night air and from her anger, if he had to guess. She took him in, head to toe, then looked back out at the parking lot. “Yeah. Peachy.”

  “You need a ride or something?”

  She let out a sarcastic, defeated laugh. “Or something.”

  The way she slurred made him think she must be drunk. Somehow she’d gotten herself good and trashed in the short time it took him to load his own equipment.

  Shane slid down the wall to sit beside her.

  Really, not the smartest move. This woman clearly had issues. Enough that Robin felt he needed a warning. And there he was, ignoring that warning and getting involved in her drama. Like he hadn’t had enough of that already to last a lifetime.

  But he just couldn’t bring himself to leave her alone out here like that.

  “Nice playing tonight.”

  “What do you know?” she snarled. Her venom had a lot less sting to it than it probably had half an hour ago. She sounded sad and broken now.

  “I used to play guitar. Not professionally or anything, though,” he said. “You’re good.”

  “Well, thanks,” she said, hesitantly. “Why used to?”

  He shrugged. “Life. And stuff.”

  She lifted a plastic cup of dark liquid that was sitting on the other side of her. “I know about that.”

  When she took a sip, he asked, “You sure you need more of that?”

  She shot eye daggers at him, and took a defiant gulp. “It’s just Coke.”

  Shane frowned. “Could have fooled me.”

  She laughed. He could see now that while she was a little buzzed, she was more tired than drunk. By his estimate, she was about three minutes from a complete meltdown.

  No way he could leave her out here now.

  “I begged the bartender for a shot before he shut down.” She raised her glass to him. “And a Coke.”

  “Just one shot, huh?”

  “Two.” She chomped on a piece of ice. “I downed two shots of bourbon, then came out here to wallow. Except some nosy jackass won’t let me wallow in peace.”

  “What a jerk,” Shane said.

  “I know, right?” She laughed again. It was deep and rich, and the most beautiful laugh he’d ever heard.

  “You want me to get someone else from the band?”

  “Good Lord, no! I’d rather the jackass,” she said. “Well, I’d rather be alone, but I’ll take you over anyone else left in there.”

  Her eyes caught his as she said “take you” and he shifted, growing warm under her gaze.

  Shit.

  “Then how about you let this jackass give you a ride home?”

  She swatted at the air between them in dismissal. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  “Did you eat anything?”

  She shivered and frowned. “No.”

  “Listen, it’s cold and I have a warm truck. Let me take you to get some food, then I’ll bring you back to your car.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “Because I’m a nice jackass?”

  She stared at him for a few seconds, sizing him up. “How about we skip the food?”

  Shit. He wanted to take that mouth of hers right then and there, but that was one bad decision he wasn’t about to make. “I don’t skip food with tormented, two-shots-of-bourbon women.”

  Her eyes flared with annoyance for a quick moment, then she smiled and held out her hand. “Well, Nice Jackass, I’m Natalie.”

  Shane took her hand in his, shook it, and felt the heat rise all the way up his arm from her touch. “Shane.”

  She downed the rest of her Coke, then he helped her to her feet. They stood face-to-face, hands still gripping each other. She was close enough that he could smell the bourbon and Coke lingering on her mouth. Sweet and oh so tempting.

  He took a step back, but still held her hand. With a nod toward his truck, he said, “Let’s get you some food.”

  Chapter 2

  Somewhere between the convention center and the nearest Taco Bell, Natalie sobered up. Not that she’d been drunk, but she shook off the thin blanket of buzz that had been coating her raw emotions. And since her brain was free to fire on all cylinders now, she was second guessing what the hell she was doing in a drive-thru with a stranger in the middle of the night.

  “Shane, right?”

  “Yeah.” He turned to her with those intense, blue-gray eyes of his, and she forgot for a second what she was going to say. Those eyes were so soothing but burned at the same time, like Icy Hot for her brain. And other parts.

  “You can take me back to my car. I’m fine now, I promise.”

  “Now?” He pointed at the car in front of them. “We haven’t even ordered yet.”

  “You don’t have to babysit me.”

  “I’m not babysitting you.”

  “Sure. You just have a habit of taking strange women to Taco Bell in the middle of the night.”

  “Just the pretty, mouthy, strange ones.”

  She snapped her head around and glared at him, but had to stifle a smile. Natalie was fairly certain a guy who looked like him had enough people to fluff his ego. He didn’t need her for that.

  Now that she was sane and sober—more than she was before, at least—she could enjoy her up-close-and-personal look at Shane. He had a short, scraggly beard and dark-blond hair, with a couple of strands falling around his face.

  Strands falling out of the messy bun on top of his head.

  She was in a truck…in a drive-thru…with a dude rocking a manbun.

  For fuck’s sake.

  A smoking hot dude with a manbun. But still.

  Hot or not, he was off limits. Or at least that’s what she’d told Robin.

  His mouth curled in a satisfied little grin when he caught her checking him out. She quickly turned to look out her own window to hide her flushed cheeks.

  Shane rolled forward, asked Natalie what she wanted, and placed their order. A few minutes later, they were on their way back to the convention center, her car, and the end of her awful night.

  Her guitar was behind her seat. Along with that fucking envelope. The one she still hadn’t opened. She didn’t need to. If Camille had given it to Robin instead of giving it to Natalie, face-to-face, she knew what that meant.

  Camille wasn’t coming back. Not yet. It didn’t matter why.

  Natalie pointed to his window. “You missed the turn.”

  “Didn’t miss it. I live around the block. You can eat at a table instead of in your car.”

  Her back straightened as a cold chill crept up her spine, and every muscle tensed. She didn’t know this guy at all. And she didn’t like this change of plans.

  “There’s a baseball bat on the floor behind you,” he said. “You can knock me out and take my truck back to the convention center if I cross any lines.”

  She glanced on the floor behind her to locate the bat, then turned back to read the dashboard clock. It read eleven twenty-five. Long past Cadence’s bedtime, even if she had tried to stay up and wait for Natalie to come home.

  She looked over at Shane again. He didn’t look like a bad guy, but bad guys never exactly looked like bad guys, did they? And he outweighed her by more than enough lean muscle to make her nervous about being alone in a truck with a stranger.

  But the bat did even her odds. So did her eight years of Taekwondo training and the multiple self-defense classes her mom insisted they take together.

  She liked her odds here.

  “Sounds fair,” she said.

  A couple of turns later, they pulled into a small apartment complex, and he backed into a spo
t up front. Natalie grabbed her guitar and followed him to the first floor apartment right behind the truck.

  He unlocked the front door and handed her their takeout, the scent of her bean and rice burrito and his nachos wafting up through the paper bag. He gestured inside. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to unload my gear.”

  “I can help.” She put the bag on a counter and looked for a spot to safely stash her guitar for a few minutes.

  “Seriously,” he said, “eat.”

  She leaned her guitar against a wall in the carpeted living room and followed him back outside. She owed him for the ride. And the food. And for being the only person to give a shit about her that day, even though he didn’t know a damn thing about her.

  Or maybe he cared because he didn’t know her.

  She grabbed a box of cables from the truck bed.

  “I said I had it.”

  “I know,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Pretty, mouthy, strange, and stubborn, huh?”

  “Damn right.”

  He lifted the case holding his sound-board like it was a bag of feathers, and Natalie admired his strong arms and hands for an extra second before heading back in the apartment.

  He was providing an excellent preoccupation for her brain. Her life might be an overcrowded mess, and everyone might be bailing on her like rats abandoning her rusty, sinking ship, but at least she had a sexy distraction. For now. What Robin didn’t know wouldn’t kill her.

  They brought the rest of the equipment inside, and Shane shut the door behind them with his foot. After she placed the last of his gear on the carpet, she caught him peeking down the top of her tank.

  He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing back his loose strands. Natalie had to admit the slightly embarrassed gesture was just about the most adorable thing she’d seen in a long time.

  But she wasn’t interested in adorable. She didn’t have room in her life for adorable.

  What she needed was to forget. At least for a little while.

  She locked eyes with him and took his scruffy face in her hands. His dark pupils widened. Natalie took a deep breath, and before she could second-guess this, too, she pressed her mouth against his.