Dirty Mind (Nashville Outlaws #2)

by Cheryl Douglas

  “Why?”

  Because she seemed genuinely interested and I didn’t want to shut her down, I said, “Look around you, Charli. It gets pretty lonely out here.” I loved my rural lifestyle and the privacy was essential to help me recharge after months on the road, but sometimes the echo of my own footsteps was deafening.

  “So you just wanted someone to be here when you got home?” Her face was a mask of displeasure when she said, “That’s what everyone wants to feel like, Dade. A convenience. Or better yet, a toy you take out and play with when you have time.” She reached for the door handle. “Maybe I need to re-think what I said about those women. Could be they were just trying to fill the void with things because you were never around.”

  Ouch. She’d hit a sore spot because I’d been accused of being an absentee husband too many times. I couldn’t claim innocence, not when my first love had always been music.

  I met her at the door leading to the house and curled my hand around her upper arm. “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m a selfish bastard, Charli.” Her opinion mattered to me, maybe too much. “I haven’t been the perfect husband, Lord knows, but I never pretended to be someone I wasn’t to lure a woman in either.”

  Because she was a foot shorter than I was, she had to tip her head back to look at me, and when she did, something constricted in my chest. Those beautiful jade eyes, so curious, so trusting, made me want to be the man who finally earned her trust.

  “I’ve always been honest with women, right from the start, about what they were getting with me.”

  She considered my words before nodding. “I believe you. Last night, before we had sex, you told me it was a mistake, that we shouldn’t be doing it. You told me you were no good at relationships and you had no right to be with me.”

  I vaguely remembered spewing my guts between heated kisses, praying one of us would come to our senses before it was too late and this gorgeous woman got so deeply embedded under my skin, extraction would be impossible.

  “You should have listened to me.” I flattened my hand against the door, leaning in closer. I was dying to kiss her, but this meeting was supposed to be on the up and up and I didn’t want her to think I was taking advantage of my time with her.

  “I did listen.” Her eyes were sparkling when they met mine. “I heard every word you said. But I don’t want to be the next Mrs. Jarvis, so I figured we had nothing to worry about.”

  The next Mrs. Jarvis. Hearing any other woman utter those words would have made my blood boil, but hearing it on Charli’s lips made my body react in inexplicable ways. “Who was that guy?” I could tell I’d confused her with the change in topic, but it had been bugging me since we left his house.

  She frowned, drawing little lines between her arched brows. “You mean Max? I told you, he’s a friend.”

  “How’d you meet him?”

  “At a bar downtown.” She smiled. “We’re both obsessed with music. He plays the drums, one of the few instruments I don’t know how to play, so he offered to teach me. I’ve been going over to his house for lessons for a few weeks and we’ve been talking about starting a band, maybe trying to get a few gigs around town.”

  I unlocked the door and punched in my alarm code as I tried to process what she told me. “You’re into music?”

  She laughed. “Obsessed with it is more like it. Cece and I have been playing instruments, singing, and writing songs since we were little.”

  “Really?” I led her through the mud room into the main living area. “Can you play this?” I asked, gesturing to a baby grand tucked away in the corner of my open living room.

  “Of course.”

  I gestured to the bench. “Have a seat. Let’s see what you’ve got.” I was being selfish. I wanted to see her get lost in one of her passions, to have a moment to watch her without monitoring my thoughts or fears about where this was going or how to control my feelings for her.

  “Ok.” She grinned as she planted her bottom on the bench. She bit her lip as she looked up at me, making my body stir in the craziest ways. She wasn’t coming on to me, but I suddenly wished she was. “What do you want to hear?”

  “Your call.”

  “Hmmm.” She considered it for a minute before she started stroking the keys, making my heart clench as I recognized the familiar ballad. It was one I’d written for my debut album. A lesser known one that had never been released as a single, so I rarely played it anymore.

  The ceilings were soaring, making the acoustics incredible, and her voice was… awe-inspiring. I’d heard plenty of people sing the song over the years, but she was the only one who’d stirred the memory of the scared kid I’d been when I wrote it. I’d been praying for a break, desperate to be recognized, and clinging to hope when everyone around me said it was pointless.

  I swallowed repeatedly, trying to find the words when she finished the song.

  Looking embarrassed as the silence stretched on, she dipped her head and her strawberry blonde hair fell, creating a veil that shielded her face. “That song was always one of my favorites. So raw. And I think it sums up how we all feel as musicians. Pursuing that dream seems so impossible, but some people make it come true. You did. And I guess that gives the rest of us a bit of hope.”

  I sat down beside her on the bench, needing to bridge the gap I couldn’t seem to with words. “You’re incredibly talented, Charli.”

  “Thank you.” Her fingers continued to stroke the keys. “You know, last night you helped me cross one item off my bucket list…” She giggled. “I was kidding about that, you know. I don’t actually put the names of the guys I want to sleep with on my bucket list.”

  I smiled, nudging her shoulder with mine. “But if you did, I’d make the list, right?”

  She licked her lips as she stole a glance at me. “You’d top the list.”

  Damn. I was sinking fast, losing myself in this girl, and I didn’t want to be rescued. Not this time. “Good to know.” I cleared my throat as I watched her delicate, bare fingers play a familiar Billy Joel song. When she finished, I whispered, “You said something about your bucket list…?”

  She rested her head on my shoulder. It was a sweet, innocent gesture and I felt my heart take another tumble. “Singing a song with you is on my list.” She continued caressing the keys as she spoke. “I knew it was just a crazy fantasy when I wrote it down, no possible way it could happen, but here we are and…”

  I suddenly wanted to help her cross every item off her bucket list. “You pick the song.”

  Her eyes widened with excitement. “Seriously?”

  “Of course.”

  I’d been intimate with this woman last night, totally lost in her. In my experience with past lovers that would have meant a level of comfort that incited demands of five-star restaurants, expensive weekend getaways and designer clothes, not a duet in the middle of my living room that made her light up with excitement like it was Christmas morning.

  “Lost?”

  Ugh. That was a song I’d written after my last breakup. My label wanted to release it as the first single on my latest album and I’d been forced to play it every night on my last tour, but it was deeply personal, and singing those lyrics still cut deep.

  She rested her small hand on my forearm, her eyes wide with understanding and compassion. “Hey, if you’d rather not—”

  “It’s okay.”

  The song had always been a mark of my failure and sadness. It was a cry from a man who was on the verge of breaking and just needed a little understanding from the public to give him peace, and back the hell off.

  She began to play before side-eyeing me, presumably to make sure I really was okay with her choice. The lyrics drifted over me, wrapped in her sweet, seductive voice, and suddenly I wasn’t thinking about the pain anymore, I was thinking about the promise on her lips. That’s what I focused on when it was my turn to sing. The taste of her lips. The memory of being lost in her arms, buried in her perfect body, my name a whisper
ed plea as she fell deeper into the magic we were making.

  By the time it finally ended, she curled her hand around my neck and whispered, “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy for you, but you have no idea how much it meant to me, having that moment with you.”

  “You’re welcome.” My voice was husky when I fastened my hand around her wrist. “But I feel like I should be thanking you. That song’s always been a bitch for me to perform live, but you just gave me a new memory that’s gonna make it a hell of a lot easier movin’ forward.”

  She smiled. “Then I love that I chose that song.”

  “Me too.” She was so close. I wanted to haul her into my lap, wrap her legs around my waist, and fist my hands in her hair while my mouth claimed hers.

  But before I could, she was standing, wandering through the open space shared between the foyer, living room, and kitchen.

  There was a separate dining room, office, and powder room down the hall and five bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs. A soundproof music studio, movie room, games room, and fitness center downstairs. Way too much house for one person, that’s probably what she was thinking, but I’d built it when I’d been married to my second wife, and she had a motto: bigger was always better.

  “Nice place.” Her eyes landed on mine and we shared a smile. “Seriously. It is.”

  “But too much, huh?” I grinned to let know I shared her opinion. “It’s okay, you can say it.”

  “Maybe not for a big family.” She wrinkled her nose as she stuck her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. “But for a guy on his own? Probably.” Before I could defend myself, she said, “But hey, I’m not judging. If I had your money, I’d probably be looking for ways to spend it too.”

  She was teasing, and I could honestly say it was the first time a woman wasn’t taking me or my money seriously. I didn’t know how I felt about that. I didn’t want to be anyone’s personal ATM, but Charli treated me no differently than the guy who filled her order at the local fast food joint. Maybe money really didn’t mean jack to her. Huh.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.” She propped her elbow on the piano before resting her palm in her hand as she stared at me. “And don’t say nothing. I know better.”

  We were supposed to be talking about that photo, damage control, and safety issues, but I asked, “You’re really not impressed by all this, are you?”

  She pushed off the piano and spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. “Well, it is beautiful, I’ll give you that. And not at all pretentious. It feels homey. It’s big, but not in a McMansion kind of way.”

  I smiled at her assessment. I felt that same way, which was the reason I’d hung on to the house and paid my ex in cash instead of giving her the house. “I love the outdoors,” I told her. “Grew up hunting, camping, and fishing, with the old man. Those were some of my favorite memories as a kid. Being in the city makes me feel… restless. So when we designed this house I wanted lots of windows and natural elements, like stone and wood. Plenty of room to roam outside.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Her dimples popped when she smiled, and I was tempted to haul my phone out and snap a pic of her. That second, when the dimples transformed her from sexy to adorable, deserved to be some lucky guy’s screensaver and I wanted it to be mine.

  “I loved my grandparents’ farm growing up. I could hardly wait ‘til Sunday, when we’d all head over there.” She laughed. “I used to tell everyone I was gonna marry a farmer when I grew up, ‘cause I wanted to live like that. A sweet, simple life.” She shrugged. “Who knows, right? I still might be a farmer’s wife someday.”

  I knew I was starting to lose my mind when I thought about asking her if she’d ever thought about being a country singer’s wife. “You don’t have to live on a farm.” I gestured outside, though it was getting dark, and it was tough to see beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that spread across the back of the house. “I lived in the country growing up. At the end of an old dirt road.” I smiled at the memory. “My mama was all about livin’ off the land, so we had chickens, a couple of goats, sheep because she loved to make her own yarn.” I chuckled. “She even tried her hand at bee keepin’.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ve got four times the acreage we had when I was growing up. Could probably have my own little hobby farm right here, if I wanted to.”

  She wandered to the kitchen window and peeked outside. “So, why don’t you?”

  “I’m not around enough to tend to animals. Always told myself if I had kids, or maybe a wife who was interested in that kind of thing…”

  She turned to face me, a smile teasing her lips. “Your previous wives weren’t big on livestock, I take it?” She laughed because even though she didn’t know them personally, I was sure she knew enough to know they would have struggled to keep a parakeet alive.

  “Uh no.”

  “So, why’d you marry women who were so different from you?”

  It was an innocent question, but it narrowed all my mistakes with women down to one. I’d gotten involved with women who were my opposites, when I should have been looking for commonalities. “Honestly? I don’t know.” I looked at her, realizing I did know, but I’d never shared it with anyone. “I’m not proud to admit this, but the business has a way of drawing you in, changing you, at least in the beginning. It was awhile before I realized I’d lost sight of who I was.”

  “I can understand that,” she said. “Must have been a whirlwind.”

  I walked to the fridge and grabbed two longnecks, popping the top on one before handing it to her. I hadn’t dated a girl who drank beer from a bottle since high school, but I smiled when Charli brought it to her lips without hesitation.

  “Thanks,” she said, tapping her bottle against mine.

  “You had dinner yet?” I asked, peering into the fridge. I couldn’t go into grocery stores without being mobbed, so my housekeeper did the honors when I was in town. “I’ve got steaks. Could throw them on the grill.”

  “I thought we were supposed to be talking about our… problem,” she said, looking amused as she stepped up beside me and snuck a peek in my fully stocked fridge.

  “Why can’t we talk about it while we eat?” It was late for dinner, but I hadn’t eaten anything since the snack they’d served on the plane and I suddenly realized I was famished.

  “Fine,” she said. “Max and I were gonna order a pizza before you texted, so I haven’t eaten either.” She snuck in front of me before bending over to check out the selection of veggies in the bottom crisper.

  I could have taken a step back, but the way she fit against me stirred up all kinds of dirty memories from the night before, so I closed my hands around her waist instead. She didn’t seem to mind as she inched back, bumping my arousal with her ass.

  “Careful now,” I whispered in her ear when she stood up. “Keep doin’ that and I might—”

  “I’m not worried,” she said, patting my face. “You’re too smart to make the same mistake twice, aren’t you?” She’d obviously been referring to a repeat of last night, but blushed when she realized I could have assumed she’d been talking about my failed marriages. “Dade, I—”

  “The only reason I said it was a mistake,” I said, closing the fridge door before backing her against it, “is because you’re too good to get caught up in my crazy. I don’t want that for you, Charli. And given what you came home to, with the reporters stalking you, you got a taste of just how bad it can get.”

  “I’m not afraid of a bunch of sleazy reporters who have nothing better to do than hang around trying to catch me without makeup.”

  I smiled at her innocence. They could make her life a living hell, shadowing her everywhere, and it would be my fault, because I hadn’t had the good sense to keep my pants zipped. “You couldn’t go home today,” I reminded her. “They’re probably still there. Your parents step outside and they’ll be harassing them. You really think they need that, after your dad just went through open he
art surgery?”

  Her expression faltered before she covered her lips with her fingertips. “God, I never thought about that. The doc said Daddy needs to avoid stress and—”

  “And I won’t be responsible for his relapse.” It would kill me knowing he’d landed back in the hospital because of me. It was obvious her old man wasn’t my biggest fan, but I’d be damned if I let harm come to him because of my choices.

  “I guess I didn’t think this through,” she said, letting her head rest against my chest. “I was caught up in the moment, having fun. Now what am I going to do?”

  I’d been considering a plan ever since I picked her up, but I wasn’t sure she’d go for it.

  Chapter 3

  Charli

  “So, I have a proposition for you,” Dade said, raking a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the center island.

  Why did he have to be so sexy? I was trying to treat him like a casual acquaintance, which technically he was, but he was also the mouth-watering object of my teen fantasies. And now that I’d seen him in his inked, naked glory, muscles flexing and gleaming with sweat while he pounded me with enough force to break the bed, I was having a hell of a time not picturing him naked.

  “I’m listening,” I said, reaching for my beer. I had a feeling I was going to need a few more to process his proposition.

  He watched me tip the bottle back and reached for his own. “So, you don’t want reporters hanging out at your parents’ place, right? That’s not fair to them.”

  “Uh huh.” I didn’t know where he was going with this, but I was willing to listen, since he seemed genuinely remorseful that he’d dropped this trouble on our doorstep. Not that he’d been alone in the viral liplock. I had to share the blame for that one.

  “As long as we’re not seen together again, this’ll die down in a couple of weeks, I’m sure.” He drained half of his bottle, like he needed the liquid courage.