by Lily LaVae
11
It had only taken a month, but she’d finally found a decent apartment and a car that worked, most of the time. She shifted the elderly compact car into reverse and backed out of her parking spot. Today would be the day, the day things were so good that she wouldn’t think about Clint Sage, or where he was, how he was doing, or if he ever thought of her. Because she doubted he did.
He had a million women to choose from and their relationship had been so brief. She pulled to stop in front of the post office and hoped her car would start again after such a short drive. Sometimes, it didn’t. She had five minutes until the post office closed and her paperwork for her visa needed to get in the mail. It had been difficult to concentrate on it when every time she looked at the paperwork she thought of him. Not just his muscles or their last dance, nor how he’d made her feel—as she’d hoped—but his smile, how he’d protected her when the car stopped so quickly, and his tender touch over the scars on her back.
Life hadn’t been easy. She watched the sparkle of the diamond Clint had given her glint in the sun. No matter how bad life had gotten, or how hungry she’d been, she’d never been tempted to sell it. It was her last connection to the man who just wouldn’t let her heart go.
She shoved open the post office door and rushed inside. “Good afternoon, Sharron.” She greeted her favorite postal worker. “Can you weigh this for me and let me know if I’ve put enough postage on it?” The thick envelope held many double-sided pages.
“This is your application? How exciting!” Sharron collected two more stamps from her and affixed them. “Say, you had someone come in here yesterday, looking to pay ahead on your P.O. Box. I told him to go away. I’d never seen him before. Thought I should warn you.”
Sick dread pooled in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t heard from her brother since her wedding day. If he’d somehow gotten free and had stayed in the U.S., he may have found her. She certainly hadn’t been able to go far. Only to a small suburb of Cheyenne.
“Thank you. I’ll be careful.” Her hand shook as she collected the envelope and slid it into the outgoing slot.
As she went outside, she took in every car and person in the street. After a month of being on her own, she’d grown complacent. She’d trusted Clint had taken care of her brother and she’d stopped being careful. It wasn’t like Clint was going to look for her. She’d thought she was safe, but apparently not.
On the way to her car, she slid her keychain from her purse and slipped her finger though one of the rings. In a pinch, she could hit her brother across the face with it and stun him enough to get away if she had to. Her heart pounded in her ears by the time she reached her car. At home, she could lock the door and keep the world out. She slid into her car, locked the door, and turned the key. It chugged, but wouldn’t start.
“No, not now. Please not now.” She tried again, and again, but it was no use. She could either stay locked in the car and hope someone would stop by to give her a jumpstart, or she could walk home. Why couldn’t her life be as charmed as Clint’s? Because she’d left him behind in a hotel room, along with her heart.
Clint watched Rhetta from across the street as she lay her head against the steering wheel of her old Ford. It was the first time he’d laid eyes on her in a month and he couldn’t get his fill. He wanted to run across the street, tug her right out of her car and into his arms, cradle her and protect her from whatever had caused her frustration. He’d been unable to focus on anything else since she disappeared.
He’d gotten out of bed the morning after their fight and she’d been gone. Vanished. He hadn’t heard her leave. When he’d checked with the front desk and asked to see camera footage, he’d witnessed her leaving at about 1 A.M., but her trail had gone cold. Finally, he’d resorted to Neil once again and they’d found an apartment in Ranchettes, just outside of Cheyenne. He’d visited the post office the day before just to see if it was really her. Margaret Hawk wasn’t actually that individual of a name. The woman at the post hadn’t been helpful, but he’d waited, just to be sure.
Clint tapped his driver on the shoulder. “Just wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.” He’d insisted on renting a Suburban instead of driving his usual vehicle. When Rhetta’s brother had escaped briefly in the beginning, he’d been sure her brother would target him. So, instead of using his armored car, he’d rented various vehicles so the one he used daily was never the same. Stephan had been recaptured about a week later and deported back to Ukraine, and Rhetta hadn’t been with him. For that he was thankful.
He opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine. Rhetta had yet to take her grip off her steering wheel, nor lift her head. He quickly crossed the street, his heart racing. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. Would she run from him again, or welcome him back? He stepped on the curb and came up alongside the car, tapping her window lightly. Rhetta jumped and hit him with her big dark eyes. First shock, then surprise. She reached for the handle of the car door and he moved to let her out.
“Clint…I didn’t expect to see you here.” She tucked her now-short hair behind her ear, her hand trembling slightly.
“Rhetta, you look amazing.” He should’ve thought of something better to say. He rubbed the tension behind his neck, hoping he didn’t blow the biggest meeting of his life. “I’d like to have that talk with you, if you’ve got a few minutes?” Damn, he was blowing it. “I missed you.”
She laughed, a little nervous choking giggle. “My car won’t start, so I guess you’ve got all the time in the world.” She reached into her car and grabbed her purse.
That wasn’t the response he’d wanted to hear. She didn’t even sound all that glad to see him. Had he made a colossal mistake? “I can have it towed, it you want?” Would even that offer of help set her off again?
She immediately stood back from him, her eyes flashing. “I don’t need you to take care of me. That’s not what I wanted from you.” She walked off down the sidewalk, arms crossed, almost stomping.
“Wait!” He jogged to her and gently stopped her. “You’re pinning me with something and I have no way to fight what I don’t know. I’m trying to help you. Why is that such a bad thing?”
She stepped back from him. “Because if we’d married before you knew about my brother, you wouldn’t have been marrying me just to take care of me. I’m not some child looking to be coddled. I wanted to be married so my name would change and then I could be free, an equal. I wanted to be someone my husband could be proud of, to love, to cherish, not to cover up and hide away at some ranch he never visits.” The bitterness hit hard in his chest.
That had never been his plan. If she’d have agreed that day to marry him, not a day would’ve passed where they wouldn’t have been together. “If you’d chosen to marry me that day, I wouldn’t have sent you away. I wanted you with me. I’ve gone crazy worrying about you this last month, especially when your brother got loose for a while. I didn’t want to think about the fact that you would’ve been safe with me if I hadn’t left you alone that night. If I hadn’t let you slip away.” He’d kicked himself a thousand times for walking away and not just wrapping her in his arms and taking her with him to his bed that night, sleeping next to her wrapped in his arms.
“There was only one thing that could’ve stopped me from leaving and it would never happen. I had to go.”
“What was it? Because I was ready and willing to tell you I was falling hard for you. Now that I haven’t seen you for a month, but literally worried about you every single day. I’ve missed business meetings, blown off clients, all because my head isn’t in the game…it’s been with you. Always you.”
Her face softened, and she relaxed slightly. “Why couldn’t you have said that in the car? I didn’t want you to stop our wedding. I didn’t want to leave you. I just didn’t want to be your mistake.”
Hell if he was going to let her get away again. “The only mistake I made with you was telling the driver to turn the car around. Come
back with me?”
“I can’t.” She laughed, and he couldn’t figure out why that was funny. “My car won’t start.”
“Leave the car. We’ll take mine.” He took her hand and led her back down the street and across to his Suburban. He’d let her plan their wedding, or date, whichever she wanted to do. It didn’t matter. She was back and he was never going to let her go.
He opened the door for her and watched her long legs fold as she slid down the seat. He’d missed every part of her. He got in and closed the door as she leaned against him. “I have to admit, my head’s been with you the whole month, too.”
That was all the invitation he needed. His most important meeting, had been the most successful of his life. “What about your heart, Rhetta? Where was that?”
Her cheeks warmed under his hands as he pulled her closer.
“It’s been with you too.”
“I love you, Rhetta Hawk. What do you say to a Vegas wedding?” he whispered in her ear as he nibbled on the tender lobe. “Say, in about two hours.”
She giggled. “Quick and dirty, just the way I like it.”
Billionaire Bachelor: Morgan
1
The crowd screamed and waved like one giant mass as Morgan Turner stood, soaking it all in. His band might have been behind him, but all those came to see and hear his voice. He lived for the attention, his heart pumping in time to their chants. They wanted more, and it was all up to him if they got their wish…or not. He rested his guitar in a nearby stand and waved as he walked off the stage, the crowd still roaring. Some nights he caved, but most, he gave them exactly what they paid for and not a second more. It wasn’t his job to give them extra.
As he descended the stairs of the stage he met Amanda, his current personal assistant. She flicked her red hair over her shoulder in annoyance. She turned abruptly, leading him back behind the stage, through the crowds of people. Once they’d reached the edge of the field, she led him down a hallway to a suite of connected rooms. As she shoved open the door, she glared at him but still held it open and stepped aside. He entered the big, open room. couches lined one endo of the room. A man stood behind a bar, thankfully provided by the venue.
“What’s this?” He thumbed at the huge spread of cut fruits, cheese, water, and assorted food and drink on the tables along the back wall. If it were just for he and the band as a thank you, there wouldn’t be posters hanging all over the walls. No, this was exactly what he hated, personal contact with the fans. He was ready for a rest, not more work.
“There’s a meet and greet after the concert. You have back stage pass holders coming any minute—about twenty of them. I told you before you went on, but again, you weren’t listening to me.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be over in the bus, so don’t bring any of your little friends back after.” She bit off the words and flicked her fingers as if his fans were clinging to her. “I think it’s time we had a talk.”
“I’ll bring whoever I damn well please to my bus.” She wasn’t going to stop him from doing whatever he wanted, no matter how much she wanted to talk. He had to live his life in front of everyone else, be just who they expected him to be. If he wanted a little downtime with a willing lady, who was she to stop him? She was just jealous over the fact that he’d lost interest in her so quickly.
“Then expect to have our conversation in front of other ears.” She tried to shove him farther into the room, but he refused to budge.
“I’m not in the mood for this.” he said as Kent pushed past him, forcing Morgan further into the room. He glared at his base player.
Kent shrugged. “Tough. You’re not leaving. We’re a band and we stick together. Just because you lead and your name is on everything doesn’t mean you get to duck out whenever you want. In fact, it means you should be here more.” Kent picked up a cube of cheese and chucked it at him.
Morgan caught it and did his best to control the tide of anger, but Kent never knew when to quit. He knew how to run this band as a business and that meant they needed time to themselves once in a while. If they didn’t, they’d burn out just as much as he had. He felt it. They had to as well.
Kent opened a bottle of water. “You always leave the fan meet ups to us. If you want this party to last, you’d better start treating the fans as if they matter. You’re getting old. There’s only so long they’ll put up with you acting like an ass.”
He ignored Kent’s jab. He’d given plenty to the fans. “Amanda, I told you not to set any more of these up. I hate them. I’m tired. We just gave them two hours.”
“Yeah.” She cocked her hip and pretended to look at her phone, scrolling with one impossibly long finger nail. “You told me that two weeks ago. From that point on, I stopped. That means you won’t have to do this anymore in about a year. In the meantime…” She gave him the finger and walked out.
Kent snorted. “Well, isn’t that precious. She’s—what—the sixth PA you’ve had in about as many weeks?”
She was, and everything about her made him want to punch a wall. “We don’t see eye-to-eye.”
“You won’t see eye-to-eye with anyone when you put yourself on a pedestal. She was doing her best. There isn’t a PA alive who could keep you happy, because you never will be. Not when you think you’re better and know everything.”
A group of fans burst through the door. At least he didn’t have to smile and pretend he wanted to be there. His rough edges were all part of the persona. They would stay back a bit. He’d take a few pictures, sign a few tickets, and leave.
A woman with bright white hair, tightly curled, brought in an older teen, tripping over herself in her excitement. The woman ambled over to the couch and pulled a newspaper out of her gargantuan purse, then flicked it open as the teen pestered him to sign her shirt. He did as he was asked, careful to keep the signature on her shoulder since he couldn’t tell her age and granny could practically pack a rifle in that bag. He’d have to ask his security detail about purses allowed into his venues.
“I’ve been following you for practically years!” The teen gushed, her pale blue eyes wide.
In teen speak, practically years was a big deal. They never seemed to like any artist for the long haul anymore. “Thanks. I hope you keep listening.”
“Oh, I will. Pretending Hearts…just spoke to me!” She clutched her chest.
She was too young to have a clue what that song was even about. As much as he could write a ballad or two, he hated mush and emotion. There was no good way to answer, so he just nodded. “Hope you enjoyed the show.” He moved on to the next few fans and after a minute, he noticed that granny and super-fan were gone.
The room cleared after about an hour and a half and he collapsed on the couch with Kent, letting his head fall back against the backrest. The personal meet ups were almost more work than the shows.
“Where did the rest of the band end up? How did they get out of this?” He closed his eyes for a minute, putting off the inevitable walk to his RV where he’d have to fire yet another PA, if she hadn’t already left. This one would be difficult. She had almost as much attitude as he did. He’d let himself get mixed up with her, then almost immediately realized his mistake and cut her out of his personal life. He wouldn’t make that error again.
“They met with fans on the stage as the crew tore down. Since you didn’t do any extra sets, they wanted to keep the regular attendees happy.”
Morgan rolled his eyes. He had the money to quit right then—had even considered it. Touring was hard work for the body and mind. He was ready for a break, a change of pace. “How many more shows?”
“Dallas is in a week. After that we have a few months off.” Kent sighed and shoved himself up off the couch. “I think you should consider keeping Amanda. She’s worked really hard.”
He’d watched Kent eyeing his PA since he’d let her go. “It’s one thing to have an attitude—I’m pretty proficient at it—it’s another to have an attitude where the public might see it. Unacceptable
.”
“At least be nice about it.” Kent’s mouth flattened into a hard line.
Morgan wondered if the two of them had been engaging in extracurricular activities right under his nose. Not that he cared. “Do you need a minute to go get her number before I go talk to her?”
Kent turned and tore out the band holding his long dark hair. “No, I already have it. Just don’t blow this for me.”
If Amanda blew off a chance with a millionaire base player because of his boss, then she wasn’t worth keeping. However, Morgan kept his mouth shut for once. Kent was one of his oldest friends and band politics were difficult enough to navigate without adding fuel to the fire.
Morgan picked up the newspaper the grandmother had left behind and scanned it without really looking, giving Kent a moment to cool off. An ad was circled in red pen at the bottom.
WANTED
Women of all walks of life for important, life-changing positions. Background and health screening required. Inquire: 6257 Iglesias Street, Addison, TX 75001
Morgan squinted at the small print. It didn’t look like a typical classified ad. Most had phone numbers or web pages. What good was an address? The wording was strange too. It didn’t even give a clue to what they were really looking for. Even someone like him could use a woman like that. Or, at least someone who would listen to him tell her how. He tore the ad from the paper and set it aside. Kent had left, and it was time to fire another PA. No matter how much he didn’t want to do it.
Eloise slammed back her soda as the rest of the anger management group filed from the room. Ed, her counselor, leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. It was a move he used often to make her feel like she was on top of a situation, when she really wasn’t.
