Wild Card: Boys of Fall

by Mari Carr

  Dad tilted his head. “Looks to me like you’re doing just fine.” Then he ran his hand along his jaw. “If y’all will excuse me, I’m going to turn in early. Want a hot shower, a shave and my bed.”

  Lorelie crossed the room to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Night. I’m glad you’re home. I missed you.”

  Her dad winked at her. “I missed you too, Lori. Night, Glen. See you bright and early tomorrow. That fence isn’t going to build itself, and according to Oakley, not much work got done today.”

  Lorelie fought hard not to flush and decided she was going to kill Oakley very slowly and painfully. “Dad—”

  “Nothing wrong with taking a day off, but tomorrow we’re back at it. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Glen answered quickly. “We’ll make up for the lost time.”

  Dad smiled, which sort of set Lorelie’s mind at ease. Although she still planned to read Oakley the riot act for ratting them out.

  Her father left the room, his footsteps heavy on the staircase.

  Lorelie turned to face Glen and was surprised to find he’d moved closer. Reaching out, he took her hands in his and tugged her close, placing a soft kiss on her head.

  “Going to miss sleeping next to you tonight,” he murmured.

  She nodded. “Yeah. Me too. But my dad spent too many years working with teenaged boys. I don’t doubt for a minute he’s upstairs setting his alarm for a middle-of-the-night bed check. He used to do the same when the players stayed here during the summer, out in the barracks. He must’ve walked across that yard a thousand times, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be and not doing anything they shouldn’t.”

  Glen chuckled. “Gotta admit the concept is a new one for me. I might be thirty-eight years old, but I’m feeling a little bit like a teenager myself right now.”

  He had a point. They were adults. But her decision not to share his bed tonight had nothing to do with age and more to do with respect. “Glen—” she started.

  “No, Lori. That wasn’t a complaint. Your father is a good man and this is his home. We’re just going to have to be creative.”

  She laughed. “Creative sounds fun. How about right now?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I really need to check on Penny.”

  Glen grasped her hand. “So you’re suggesting a roll in the hay? Literally?”

  “Literally.”

  7

  Toby: It’s time

  Glen: What?

  Toby: Band is playing in Houston tomorrow night. Meet us there. Hop back on the tour

  Glen: Trent okay with that? I’m not coming back if he plans to start a fight

  Toby: He’s cool. It was even his idea

  Silence

  Toby: Glen? You there?

  Glen: Yeah. I’ll text tomorrow morning. Let you know my plans

  “Just a few more steps.”

  Glen felt like an idiot with Lorelie’s scarf covering his eyes as he walked across the yard. He hoped Oakley and Joel weren’t watching or they’d give him shit for it. He’d spent the better part of the morning working in the stable with the other guys. They were all quitting early today in order to get ready for the Valentine’s Dance tonight. Lorelie must’ve been watching the clock, because she showed up just as they were calling it a day.

  It didn’t help that she’d found him seconds after that text from Toby.

  Sunday. Tomorrow.

  Glen didn’t have a clue how to tell Lorelie. And he hadn’t had a chance before she covered his eyes, grabbed his hand and started leading him from the stable to God only knew where.

  “Three steps up here,” she warned him.

  He took them with care, trusting that she wouldn’t let him walk into anything or fall. “What’s going on, Lori?”

  “You’ll see. We’re almost there.”

  He heard a door open and then he could tell they’d walked inside something. They hadn’t traveled far enough for him to be in the main house, plus she’d gone the wrong direction.

  Glen didn’t have to wonder for long as she tugged the blindfold free. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and tried to figure out what he was looking at.

  “The barracks?”

  She’d brought him here before as part of his initial tour. The place looked a hell of a lot different now than it had then.

  She nodded. “Yeah. What do you think?”

  He wasn’t sure what answer she was looking for. So he tried to buy himself some time as he glanced around. When he’d first seen the place, it had been covered in a thick layer of dust and there was furniture and boxes and all kinds of stuff stored willy-nilly in every room. It had looked more like an attic than a cabin. Now, the kitchen and living area were spotless and decorated in a style that was downright homey. “It looks great.”

  “Come look at this.” She led him to the first door on the right. When she opened it, he saw that the bedroom was as inviting as the other two rooms.

  “You did all this?”

  “Me and Sadie. While you guys were out working on the fence this week. I was thinking that if you ever wanted to come back to Quinn, you might like knowing there was a place for you to stay here on the ranch.”

  She’d fixed up the cabin for him?

  Glen wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never really had a place he considered home. He had an apartment in Nashville that provided a functional living space and nothing more. The walls were bare and the cupboards didn’t hold much either—couple plates, cups and bowls. He ordered in or ate out ninety-nine percent of the time, so he didn’t even own a pan.

  “You did this for me?”

  “Yeah.”

  Glen swallowed heavily, trying to work down the lump that had formed in his throat. Rather than let her see how much her kindness affected him, he meandered around the room, looking at everything she’d done. All the extra touches she had added to make the place special.

  Lorelie had hung framed photographs of the ranch and there were knickknacks on the dresser, the kind of stuff women always scattered around that made a place look lived in: candles, a small painted wooden box, a few books.

  “Is that quilt on the bed handmade?” he asked once he found his voice again.

  “Yes. My grandmother was a big quilter. Quite a few of the beds on the ranch are wearing her work.” Her voice was laced with pride as she talked about what the pattern on Glen’s quilt represented. He hadn’t realized there was a meaning to quilts, until she explained the one she’d put on his bed was a Jacob’s Ladder pattern, and that it had been used as a signal by the Underground Railroad.

  “It’s really beautiful. The whole place is,” he said, trying to remember if anyone had ever given him such a thoughtful gift.

  She grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Apart from this room, the bathroom and the front rooms, the rest of the place is a disaster. Don’t open any doors that are still closed.”

  He stepped closer, tugging her toward him for a hug. “I’m serious, Lori. This was…” He struggled for a word powerful enough, but nothing fit. Finally, he just added, “Really sweet of you,” which didn’t begin to touch what he felt.

  She returned his embrace, her cheek resting on his chest. “I’d like to pretend I did it all for you, but this is really me being selfish. I’ve been trying to figure out some way I could entice you to come back and see me sometimes.”

  “I was going to do that anyway—without all this. I mean, if you want me to.”

  Lorelie released her grip to look at him. “If I want you to? Of course I want you to come back. Hell, I don’t want—”

  She closed her mouth quickly. He didn’t have to hear the words to know where she was heading. Both of them had been very careful about not showing too much of their hand since the night they’d danced in the kitchen. They had started playing their cards close to their chests. Self-preservation, he figured.

  If he hadn’t gotten that fucking text earlier, he probably wou
ld have tossed his hand face up on the table and told her everything he felt, future be damned. But now, he didn’t know what to do. Was it fair to tell her when the clock was ticking? Less than twenty-four hours left before he’d have to pack up and get on the road.

  Then he realized he wanted to give her something back after what she’d just given him.

  “I don’t want to leave either, Butterfly.”

  “Well,” she said, “we don’t need to worry about that right now. Tonight, we’re going to dance our asses off and drink shots until we sing too loud, talk too much and laugh too hard. Then we’re going to come back here and do scandalous things to each other on my grandma’s quilt.”

  He chuckled. “Is that your plan for Valentine’s Day?”

  “Did you have something more romantic in mind?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing that would top that.”

  Lorelie laughed. “Nothing could top that. Sort of wish we had time for a little pregaming,” she said as she glanced at the bed, “but my dad loves this dance, and he’ll be chomping at the bit if we’re not ready to go on time.”

  They left the barracks together, heading back toward the main house. Glen didn’t tell her about the text. There would be time for that conversation in the morning. Tonight, he wanted exactly what she’d just described.

  One last night in heaven.

  And then…he was back to hell.

  Glen grabbed a chair at the table where Coach sat alone, grateful for the chance to escape the dance floor. He’d been teasing when he asked Lorelie to save all her dances for him, but apparently she’d taken the request seriously. They’d arrived at the community center with her dad nearly two hours earlier, and since then, Lorelie and her friends had surrounded him, laughing and dancing in a huge pack in the center of the floor.

  “Taking a break?” Coach asked.

  He nodded. “I’m not a fan of line dances. Figure the point of dancing is to have a pretty girl to hold on to. Stuff like this defeats that purpose.”

  Coach chuckled. “Can’t fault your reasoning there.” The two of them watched Lorelie with a bunch of her girlfriends doing the Cupid Shuffle. Her cheeks were flushed and she’d pulled her long hair up in a ponytail about half an hour earlier, when the room got too hot. She was grinning widely and leading the ones who struggled to hit the right steps.

  She had taken his breath away when she’d come downstairs earlier after getting ready for the dance. For the first time since he’d met her, she had put the jeans away and donned a dress. It was a red sheath thing with a scoop neck that was sexy without pushing the limits.

  The skirt part hit her mid-thigh. On a shorter woman, it would have reached lower, but with Lorelie’s height, it gave him a better view of her trim legs. Legs he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about wrapping around his waist later tonight as he slid inside her.

  Best part was, she’d traded her cowboy boots for heels. The added inches put her lips closer to his, a bonus he’d been taking advantage of all night, sneaking kisses as often as he could.

  “So what’s the plan, Glen?”

  Glen glanced back at Coach, confused. “Plan?”

  Coach nodded, his smile fading, his eyes concerned. “This is the part where I ask you what your intentions are toward my daughter.”

  “Oh.”

  Shit.

  Glen had been trying to figure that out himself. Toby’s “come back now” edict this morning had thrown him for a loop.

  “Yeah,” Coach said, when Glen failed to reply. Glen figured he was gaping like a fish out of water. “That’s what I thought. Don’t have a clue, do you?”

  Glen shook his head. “I didn’t expect this.”

  “‘This’?”

  To fall in love.

  That was the true response, but Glen hadn’t even told Lorelie yet, so how could he confess to her dad?

  “I’m a musician, Coach. It’s all I’ve ever known. All that I’m good at. It’s my life.”

  Coach sighed. “That’s an excuse, Glen. Not an answer. People aren’t so one-sided. You’re actually a pretty fair ranch hand. I know it was tough for you at first, but you stuck it out and now…you’re good at it. You’re a hard worker, and I suspect there’s not much you can’t do if you put your mind to it.”

  “Thanks, Coach. That really means a lot.” The compliment coming from Coach meant way more to Glen than hundreds of screaming fans cheering for him during his guitar solos. Which took him aback for a second. He wasn’t used to wanting someone’s approval. But he respected Coach, wanted to make him proud.

  What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?

  Glen had hated working on the ranch at first, but as he spent more time out in the field with the guys, building things, tending to the animals, the more he’d come to love it. The pace of life in Quinn was the exact opposite of life on the road.

  When he was touring, he was in constant motion, always rushing from one place to the next without ever stopping to take a look around. They’d roll into town, play, party backstage, then hop on the bus and head off to the next city. He was never still. Never quiet.

  And while working on the ranch kept him busy, it was slower somehow. For two weeks, he’d worked out in the south pasture, building a fence, his hands in constant motion. But along the way, he had time to take in his surroundings, to appreciate everything around him. He had watched the sun rise and set on the horizon. He had noticed how many different vivid colors Mother Nature produced. He began to recognize distinct birdcalls, for God’s sake.

  He’d even spent one night with Coach, Oakley and Joel, sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of a field, drinking PBR and waiting for the groundhog that was digging holes to emerge. Coach had been waiting for the little bastard with a shotgun across his lap, ready to take care of the vermin who’d dug the hole that caused a cow to break its leg. They hadn’t managed to kill the thing, and Glen was pretty sure the shotgun blasts had created as many craters as the groundhog, but they’d laughed their asses off, telling tales and just…being.

  “So you’re going back?” Coach asked, calling him out and asking him point-blank the question Glen was struggling with.

  “I don’t have any choice. It’s my job.”

  “Son, you always have choices in life. Always.”

  Glen heard the sentiment and he appreciated it.

  Unfortunately, he got hung up on the word son—and how much he liked hearing it.

  “I’ve only been here two weeks. That’s hardly enough time to make any life-altering decisions.”

  “Lori says you don’t like working with this Trent guy.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You like it here, Glen? You like Quinn?”

  Glen didn’t hesitate. He nodded. “I didn’t expect to. There are still some parts of small-town life that feel kind of foreign to me. But yeah. This is a good place with nice people.”

  “If you take a break from touring, would you forget how to play the guitar?”

  He chuckled and shook his head at Coach’s teasing question. “No. I’m pretty sure I’ll keep hold of those skills ’til the day I die.”

  “Playing in that band pay pretty good?”

  Glen nodded. “Yeah.” He’d been around Coach long enough to know that these questions weren’t the man’s way of prying. He was building up to something, making a case. And Glen was starting to figure out what it was.

  “You save some of that money, or spend it all?”

  “I’ve got plenty of money in the bank, Coach.”

  “Enough that you could afford to extend this vacation.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You love my daughter?”

  Glen couldn’t deny it. Hell, he didn’t want to. “So much it hurts.”

  “Sounds to me like you already made a life-altering decision. In just two weeks.”

  Coach’s words hit him like a two-by-four between the eyes.

  He was right. Glen’s life had already been tos
sed on its ear. And no matter what he did next, his life was going to change.

  Glen tried to wrap his mind around that fact. He’d been living on borrowed time. Time that had run out this morning. Lorelie had given him a way to return. She’d fixed up the barracks and issued the invitation. He could potentially have his cake and eat it too. Return to the tour and come back here in between concerts and recording sessions. Wade was doing that. Was making it work.

  He dismissed the idea instantly. For one thing, Wade set his own schedule, and he’d scaled back a lot so he could be home with Charlene.

  As a member of Trent’s band, Glen didn’t have that luxury. Which meant he would be away from Quinn ninety percent of the year. That wasn’t fair to Lorelie. She deserved all of a man’s attention, not some walkaway Joe who popped into town whenever he could squeeze in a trip.

  And then there was Coach to consider. Glen had felt the man’s approval, but he’d never come right out and asked the guy what he thought about him and Lorelie together. “You really wouldn’t mind it if I stuck around?”

  Coach didn’t hesitate, just shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t mind.”

  “You’re a lot different from my dad.” Glen didn’t have a clue where that had come from, but as more time passed, he couldn’t help making the comparison.

  “Yeah. I got that impression. Your dad a drinker?”

  “No. Just a cold son of a bitch. Got my mom pregnant with my older brother when they were younger. Their parents made them get married. Rather than make the best of it, he made us all suffer. Let us know every minute of every day how miserable he was and how it was our fault. My brother is a few years older. He took off right after high school and never looked back.”

  “Your mom could have left your dad. Found a better place for y’all.”

  Glen snorted. “She liked being miserable too. Good Catholic girl, raised to believe we were meant to suffer so we could live the good life in the ever-after. She took her suffering very seriously, made it an art form.”

  Glen was surprised to realize the usual bitter tone that accompanied any conversation about his family was missing. It was as if he’d finally managed to let go of all that. His time with Coach and Lorelie had shown him he hadn’t left behind anything that was worth missing. What they had, their family of two—or five, really, considering they’d extended it to make room for Oakley, Joel and Sadie—had taught him what a good family looked like.