Sweet Texas Kiss (Sweet Texas Secrets)

by Monica Tillery

  Instead of the sympathetic look and insistence that it wasn’t her fault, Gavin surprised her. “So it’s true? You could’ve stopped her from driving that night and you didn’t?”

  Though he didn’t sound angry or accusatory, his words hit her like a slap in the face, and she pulled her hand back, burned by his thoughtlessness. They weren’t close; she knew she wouldn’t get loving sympathy from her old friend, but his reaction was much harsher than she would’ve imagined.

  She sat up straight, the cozy glow of their growing understanding shattered. “Wow. You know, it’s haunted me every waking moment since that night. If there were any way I could go back in time and do things differently, believe me, I would.”

  “But you can’t. No one can. And we both have to live with the consequences.” He wasn’t being nasty, simply matter-of-fact, and the sadness in his voice gutted her. Somehow that was worse than the ugliness he’d doled out earlier in the week.

  “Things were falling apart around us. We’d been on the road for too long without a break, and things finally reached a boiling point. We’d stopped in twenty cities in less than a month by the time we finally caught our breath, and then we had to go to that stupid party when all we wanted was to sleep in our own beds for once. We were about three weeks out from heading back into the studio to start our new album, but everything we’d written was crap and we couldn’t stand to be in the same room with each other long enough to fix it. We hadn’t talked in days.”

  “I hadn’t been in touch with her much around that time, either. We kept missing each other, and when we did connect, she was always in a bad mood.”

  Macy scoffed. “Every day was a bad day back then. We were scheduled for a fan meet-and-greet event, but we needed some time off and away from one another so badly that I tried to talk her into canceling it. She couldn’t believe how unprofessional I was, and I couldn’t get her to see that we needed a break more than anything else. If we hadn’t been practically in each other’s pockets every moment of the last month, we might have been able to talk it out, but one thing led to another and it escalated into a terrible argument.” She paused, her heart beating in her throat, reliving every awful moment of the fight. “Before I knew what happened, we were fighting about who wasn’t working hard enough on the new material, which one of us screwed up more when we played live, and who got the better bunk on the tour bus. Nothing was right, and there was no time for us to take a break and regroup.

  “We had to go to that party, there was no way around it, but there was no way in hell we were going to hang out together.” She took a sip of her drink, her stomach churning. “Never in my life have I worked so hard to ignore someone I care about. If she was dancing, I was in the backyard by the pool. If she was talking to a producer, I was hiding in the restroom. I knew she was drunk that night, and really, she never drank that much.”

  “Yeah, she was never much of a partier.” Gavin’s voice had softened, and he was watching her with kinder eyes. She’d seen the nasty comments on every online news story, had heard the rumors that Tori’s death was her fault. Survivor’s guilt kept her quiet then. But even though Gavin blamed her, too, his accusation was from a sense of loss, not meanness, and it was cathartic to finally tell the whole story. Nothing would take away his grief, but somehow she wanted to make him understand.

  “One minute, I was hustling to make sure we weren’t ever in the same room, and the next, she was gone. Just like that. She’d slipped out without saying good-bye. We were having a hard time, probably the darkest ever for our friendship, but I would have called her a cab or gotten her a ride home. She didn’t know that, probably thought I hated her or was too angry to care, and she just disappeared without a word.”

  So Tori had been alone that night, racing through the streets in her little Corvette convertible before crashing it through the brick wall of an elementary school. Macy would never forget a single detail: the car’s front crunched into oblivion, bricks scattered all over the parking lot, fluids leaking onto the cement. And if her guilt didn’t keep it fresh in her mind, the press was more than happy to remind her.

  Gavin squeezed her knee. “I … uh … didn’t know that’s how it happened.”

  “I always thought we’d have time to make up. I never thought she’d be gone.” She swallowed, waiting for him to say something, to let her know he believed her. “I wish we’d made up before that party. Instead, we were bickering over who sounded like the bigger bitch in that People magazine article that had just come out. I was so pissed, all I could think about was how she’d made me look stupid. All the pictures they used in an article after the funeral were from our last tour, and every one of them reminds me of a fight we had. Sometimes all I remember are the arguments.”

  God, it hurt to say that out loud. Every time she’d been asked about Tori, Macy had focused on the positive, on what they had together. She had a dozen stories in her back pocket about funny, inspirational, or nice things Tori had said or done and kept all the negative stuff to herself. Maybe if she’d admitted that Tori was human or that they hadn’t always gotten along, she’d have healed a bit. Carrying the weight all on her own had worn her down. She’d never told anyone how bad things were between them, had never admitted that they weren’t on speaking terms the night she died. Gavin’s hand rested on her knee, its warm and solid weight reassuring her. Warmth spread through her body, the comfort and attraction warring with her grief and guilt. Though afraid he’d rebuff her and she’d regret it, she covered his hand with hers, entwining their fingers.

  “I miss her so much. I wish I could tell her how sorry I am, that she was the most important thing in my life. Everything we fought about seems so stupid now.”

  He didn’t pull away. Instead, he squeezed back, and said softly, his eyes never leaving their hands, “I forget that I can’t call or e-mail her sometimes, and then it hits me that she’s gone, and it’s like it’s happening all over again. I hate that we never said good-bye.”

  “Me, too. People still think I didn’t care. It was even harder at first, when fans, fueled by media gossip, openly blamed me, and maybe I should have done more, should’ve put aside my stupid pride and made up with her. Then she’d still be here, and nobody would’ve had to say good-bye.”

  “Why didn’t you set the record straight?”

  “Part of me thinks it really was my fault that she drove that night and it’s only fair that I take the blame. It hurts so bad not to have her around that being able to focus on other people’s anger makes that a little easier. It’s like if I keep thinking about what I could’ve done differently, then I don’t have to face moving on without her.”

  “You probably couldn’t have done anything differently.”

  “I know, but there’s always the thought of what if hanging over me. That’s why I never did much to defend myself against the rumors.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “It was easier than having people feel sorry for me.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for you.” His voice rolled around her, pulling her in. “I think we’ve both held on to the guilt long enough.”

  Without warning, Gavin dipped his head and kissed her gently on the forehead, lingering as she leaned in to him. His lips were soft and firm, sending heat through her body. She wanted more. Moving into his waiting arms, she tilted her face up until their lips met, and he kissed her. Slowly at first, as though gradually deciding whether or not to continue, and then more insistently. Their breath mingled, the kiss stretching out luxuriously as she savored him, giving herself over to the decadent taste of his mouth. Electricity crackled between them, so intense that she thought she’d actually see the sparks if she opened her eyes. It had been so long, too long, since she’d connected with anybody. The hunger took over, and encouraged by the hint of satiation promised by the kiss, Macy let her hands explore Gavin’s body.

  Her fingers danced over the back of his neck as she deepened the kiss, his skin warm beneath her touch. A low sound, deep in hi
s throat, spurred her. Macy pressed her palms against the hard muscles of his chest and gave in to feeling every square inch of his broad shoulders. Throwing common sense aside, she pulled herself onto his lap, straddling his waist, and tucked her body against his, thrilling at the delicious sensation of fitting together perfectly. Her knees pressed against the thick, fluffy rug beneath them—what would it be like to feel that rug beneath her bare skin in front of the fireplace?

  Except she wouldn’t be in Sweet Ridge when it was cold enough to enjoy a roaring fire. She’d be back at home in Nashville, working, and alone. Suddenly aware of how foolish going any further with Gavin would be, she pulled back. His eyes were heavy-lidded, as drugged with their chemistry as she was, and it took every bit of self-control she had to speak.

  “I don’t think we should do this.”

  The fog lifted, and his eyes returned to normal as he cleared his throat and raked a hand over his face. “No, of course not. You’re right. Must have been the wine.”

  “Yeah, probably.” Though Macy was far from drunk, and Gavin hadn’t even finished his glass. “Listen, I think I’m going to go ahead and go to bed. We can talk again tomorrow.”

  “Macy.” He said her name like he was making a wish. “This kiss wasn’t a mistake. I don’t know what it means, exactly, but you’re special, and this is something that could be real.”

  She’d been alone for so long; letting him in was impossible. As gracefully as possible, she extricated herself from his embrace and stepped over him to make her way toward the stairs. Looking dazed and positively edible, he fell back against the couch, making it close to impossible to resist running back and picking up where they left off.

  Instead, she paused at the bottom of the stairs and offered a pathetic half wave. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Chapter Nine

  Macy waited until she heard Gavin call for Merle and close the door behind him before venturing downstairs. After spending half the night lying awake, forcing herself to stay in bed when she wanted to throw common sense out the window, tiptoe down the hallway, and crawl into his bed, she thought she’d be too tired to wake up early. Nope. As soon as his alarm went off behind his closed door, she was awake, as well, staring at the ceiling and wondering what she would say to him. Debating between hoping he’d get ready for work and leave and wishing for a soft knock at her door, she’d listened to him shower, rustle around as he got dressed, and clatter through the kitchen making breakfast before he left without speaking to her. He was either feeling as awkward as she was, or he realized they’d made a huge mistake. Either way, he was obviously avoiding her, too, and that was fine until she knew what she wanted to do.

  The coffee he’d left in the pot still seemed fresh enough, so she poured herself a cup and held the warm mug between her palms as she stood in the gleaming kitchen. The luxe quartz countertops were a shimmery white with thin veins of gold running through them, the sink was integrated and spotless, and there wasn’t a hint of dust anywhere in the space. Her kitchen at home was perpetually clean, but only because it was unused. Gavin took such pride in his home, cared about every aspect of the place. Who’d have thought she’d be so turned on by Mr. Responsibility? As the coffee cooled a bit, she took a tiny sip, picturing the muscles of Gavin’s forearm moving beneath his golden skin as he cleaned the dishes. He’d left a note, crisply folded so it tented, and written in neat, compact handwriting.

  Macy,

  Can we have dinner together tonight? I think there might be something between us. I’ve been so caught up in worrying about the house that I forgot to open my eyes to the beautiful woman who owns it. I don’t want to pressure you, but I want to at least talk with you about last night before you go home. I promise to keep my hands to myself, if that’s what you want.

  Gavin

  With her eyes closed for a moment, she could feel his hands on the back of her neck, in her hair. Kissing Gavin was like falling sideways, scary and woozy and wonderful. Truthfully, she’d love to do it again, but she didn’t want to face what it meant. He’d been so direct last night when she tried to run away. There was no way they could have anything other than a real relationship. Gavin wasn’t built that way, and truthfully, the chemistry between them wasn’t purely physical. It was slipping beneath the surface, and she could keep it tamped down, but it was there. And it scared the hell out of her.

  He remembered the way they got along so easily in the past, and he obviously felt the same chemistry she did, but Gavin Cooper didn’t know her now. He didn’t know she was a mess who wasn’t capable of maintaining a relationship. She couldn’t even make up with Tori long enough to get her a ride home.

  She wanted to stay, knowing there could be potential for something between them and wanting to explore what kind of future might be possible. The life they could have together was clear in her mind as she stood in the kitchen. It would be sexy to cook with him, bumping into one another, feeding each other tastes, their hands brushing as they reached for the same spoon. They could spend their weekend mornings sitting side by side at the big table in the breakfast area, eating a leisurely breakfast as they read the news. The kitchen had seen so many meals, so many memories. It was natural that Gavin would continue here with his own family.

  Only the house was hers, not his, and she wasn’t going to stay. He wanted nothing more than to find the perfect woman to build a life with, and he wanted to do it in the house where he’d grown up. It wasn’t for her, and the longer she stood there, the travertine tile cool against her feet, the easier it was to forget that her life was in Nashville, not Sweet Ridge.

  Macy needed to get home, to line up auditions, and to forget about Gavin. She’d sell him the house and tamp down her foolish attraction to him. Hell, maybe she’d even give it to him outright. Then they’d both be happy. He’d have everything he wanted, and she could refocus her energies on her career and quit moping around and blaming everything that went wrong on one tragedy. She set her empty coffee cup in the sink and started to leave the kitchen but stopped and put her mug in the dishwasher instead. Gavin liked things neat, and he didn’t know it yet, but it was soon going to be his house after all.

  She passed the family photos lining the walls on her way upstairs, pausing to see a family’s story laid out in pictures, telling herself that she was making the right decision. This house was the Cooper family, and she would never feel right taking it away. Every image held a memory, a memory made right there. Gavin as a middle-schooler, kneeling next to an elderly blue heeler. What was that dog’s name? Grayson standing beside Jack, chest out, smiling proudly in the kitchen in front of a pile of avocado pits and skins. Gage lying in the grass in the backyard, photographed from above.

  She didn’t belong here; Gavin did. Her attraction to Gavin was just that, attraction and nothing more. No need to complicate his life by trying to make it into something, or trying to fit into a life that she wasn’t cut out for. Not sure if she’d wait until he got home from work, go see him on her way out of town, or simply leave him a note, she hurried to her bedroom to start packing her things. She’d drive out to San Antonio, get a flight out of town, and be back home before nightfall, and her visit to Sweet Ridge would fade into memory.

  As she picked out clothes to change into after her shower, her phone slipped out of her back pocket when she scooped up her jeans, and she noticed that she’d missed a phone call from her agent. She dropped onto the bed and dialed her number.

  “Hey, Macy.” Karen was probably in her car; Macy heard her turn down music in the background. “Thanks for getting back with me.”

  “No problem. What’s up?”

  “I have a meeting lined up for you with the producers of Musical Chairs.” Macy could hear the excitement in Karen’s voice, could practically picture her bouncing in her seat. “They think you’ll be perfect to host the show, and they can’t wait to meet you. I just need to know when I can get it on the books.”

  “That’s
awesome!” And she meant it. She had to line up new job opportunities, and the busier the better if she was going to get her mind off of Gavin and Sweet Ridge. The inventive musical improvisation show was going into its second season, and it would mean that Macy could stay involved with the music scene through another television show. Best of all, being back at work in Nashville meant she wouldn’t know what she might have had if only she’d opened herself up to a real relationship and a new life in Sweet Ridge. It was a cop-out, but she wasn’t ready for anything serious, and Gavin deserved someone who was. “I’ll call you later when I know my schedule. I’m coming home soon.”

  Energized and glad to have a solid reason to skip town and avoid suffering through an awkward conversation with Gavin, she prepared for her shower. She’d figure out later how to break it to him. After relaxing under the hot spray, humming to herself and pushing thoughts of romance out of her mind, she took her time getting ready. She wouldn’t be back in the house, wouldn’t spend her evenings luxuriating in the giant garden tub surrounded by fragrant bubbles while Gavin sat across from her, sharing stories about crazy things that happened at work. She wouldn’t use the ornately framed mirror over the sink to check her reflection or apply makeup before a romantic date. He’d never complain that she left her socks and towels on the floor, playfully tossing them at her. Before long, she’d be back in her Nashville home, moving through her daily life while someone else picked up after her. Nobody would complain that she left her things lying around, and nobody would say a word if she left a cereal bowl in the sink instead of washing it.