Rather than look sheepish at the arrival of their boss, the ladies giggled when they saw her. Laura tried to hide the cell phone under the table.
I am not my mother … I am not my mother … “What’s going on?” Skye asked as casually and carefree as possible.
“Is it true about you and Gentry Wells?” Laura asked.
Skye hadn’t said word one to anyone at work about her weekend with Gentry, because she’d broken a lot of rules that night, and anyway, it wasn’t professional for a boss to go blabbing about her hedonistic weekend, with a hotel guest or not. But, of course, the staff knew. One of her mom’s favorite sayings was that nothing happened at the resort that the housekeeping staff didn’t know about, and over the years, Skye had found that unequivocally to be true.
“We’re friends, yes.”
More tittering filled the room.
“What?” Skye pressed. “I’m feeling self-conscious here.”
Laura held up her phone. “Did you see his performance last night on TV?”
Gentry had been on TV? If she’d had any idea, she would have been glued to her television set. Anything for another glimpse of him.
Laura handed her phone over. “Start it at the beginning.”
Pulled up on the screen was a video recording. Heart racing, she pressed play. The first shot of an empty stage as the sound of an engine revving filled the air. Then a motorcycle drove right onto the stage from the wings, Gentry on it. Sure enough, her heart did all sorts of crazy acrobatics at the sight of him. Damn it all, he looked good on a motorcycle dressed in a black leather jacket, even better there than on a jet plane or in a club’s VIP suite. He basked in the roar of the crowd as he took his place center stage at the front of a band of five. When he grabbed the microphone, Skye noticed the brass knuckles he wore on his right hand.
Then he started to sing. She expected another song like “Well Hung” or “Beer O’Clock,” but this time the topic was a midnight horseback ride through the backwoods with a beautiful woman.
Skye’s cheeks flushed hot. My God, he really did write a song about us. Not only that, but with the way his gaze seduced the camera, she would’ve sworn he was singing it right to her. Which was fine, as long as he sang about riding horseback, but the song turned real dirty, real fast.
Skye’s employees giggled behind her as Skye’s face turned from flush to on fire. And that was before he got to the part in the song where the woman in the song rode him in reverse cowgirl all the way to the finish line.
Five minutes later, Skye walked from the break room in a fog and down the stairs to her office in the basement. The guy she’d spent a night with nearly three weeks earlier, the one with whom she’d thought for a solid hour that she might be having a baby with, had written and performed a song about the intimate details of their night together—on live television for millions of viewers all around the world.
Without a greeting to her mom, who sat at her desk on the far side of the room, Skye sank into her desk chair, too stunned to do more than ruminate about what to do. Did she text him? Did she ignore it? Was she flattered? A little. But more than that, she was obnoxiously and indescribably aroused. Embarrassingly so.
She had to remind herself that of course she was into him. Of course. He had that “it” factor that all celebrities had. That was the whole point—you couldn’t take your eyes off them. They made you want to let them into your heart and your life. After that ACM performance, there were probably thousands of women fantasizing they were the one he was singing about. And yet it was Skye, a no-name housekeeping manager who was pushing thirty in Dulcet, Texas, who was actually the lucky one who’d done all those things with him.
Before she knew it, a giggle was bubbling over in her throat, making her eyes water as she fought to hold her laughter back. She’d longed for a distraction that day, the anniversary of her loss, and, sweet Jesus, she’d gotten one. Thank you, Gentry.
Her mom looked up over her reading glasses. “What is going on with you? You’ve been snapping at everyone all week. Not just me, but our girls. And now you’re laughing? What’s so funny?”
Skye roused herself with a shudder. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
Her mom accepted her answer with a hmph and got back to work.
Skye was too distracted to work, so she did what any self-respecting woman would—she found the video of Gentry’s ACM performance online and texted Remedy the link.
Ten minutes later, while Skye was still sitting there staring at the muted video she’d been watching ever since on a continuous loop, Remedy burst through the office door. “Oh. My. God.”
Skye shot out of her chair, flashing Remedy a look of panic. “Let’s talk outside. My mom’s trying to work.”
“Subtle,” her mom murmured. “Very subtle.”
They walked up the stairs from the basement level, through the lobby, Remedy squeezing Skye’s arm the whole way, as though she was about to burst. They fast-walked out the front doors, where they found a private corner between two potted shrubs.
Remedy clapped her hands on her cheeks. “Did you two really do all of that?” she hissed in an exaggerated whisper. “Because oh my God!”
“Right? At first I was pissed because all that stuff he sang about, we actually did, but—”
Remedy gasped. “Shut up! Are you serious? All of it?”
There was no need to pull her punch with Remedy. “All of it.”
“Okay, seriously, that performance. I mean, wow. I’d thought Gentry Wells was hot before, but this … this is a new level of scorching. Did you know he was going to sing that?”
If only. “No. We haven’t talked since that weekend,” Skye said.
“You haven’t texted him today?”
“Texted, yes. Sent it? No.” The text she’d written out had been simple—great performance last night—but it sounded hollow and impersonal. But what could she say that was real, that would capture the disparate jumble of emotions roiling around inside of her? Maybe, Thanks for ruining me for other men. And, oh and by the way, I have a date tonight with a nice, dorky guy. Your complete opposite. Or maybe she should write, FYI, we dodged a bullet. The pregnancy test came up negative.
Yeah, no.
Remedy said, “You have to text him. Let him know you got the message loud and clear.”
“What message?” That he enjoyed their time together? That being with her had been lucrative for his career?
“That he wants you! Don’t be dense.” Remedy danced Skye around in a circle. “Gentry Wells wants you, Skye Martinez.”
“He doesn’t, at least not anymore. And I don’t want him. And that’s the end of it.”
Remedy made like she was melting, with droopy shoulders, a long face, and eyes rolled up into the top of her head. “Sweetie, I love you. Which is why I feel comfortable telling you right now that you’re full of shit.”
The group of housekeeping staff that had been watching the video in the break room picked that exact moment to walk through the front entrance, finally getting back to work, as it were. Even still, they stopped to flirt with Skye’s cousin Marco, who was working the valet desk.
The next person out of the entrance was Skye’s mom. She waved her cell phone at Skye. “Sorry to interrupt your little gossip session, but I just got a call from Gloria. She said that some man she didn’t recognize just stopped by the house looking for you. She said he looked like he was bad news. Any idea who that could be?”
A motorcycle engine rumbled through the circular driveway, its engine so loud that it set off a car alarm. Remedy nodded to it, her eyes going wide as saucers. “Skye, look.”
As though she conjured him right out of that video her employees had showed her, a man in aviator sunglasses and a black leather jacket set down the kickstand of the bike and swung his leg over it. Gentry. Hot as ever.
He leaned against the bike’s seat, a thumb hitched behind his belt, and smiled at her. “Hey there.”
Skye took a fe
w steps closer, not sure her feet were touching the ground or if she was floating, the moment was so surreal. “What are you doing here?”
His gaze swept over her body. “You told me the next time I was in the neighborhood, I should stop by. So here I am.”
“You just happened to be in my neighborhood?”
His lips pursed into a wicked, lopsided grin. “Not even close. I’m here for you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Gentry came for her. He couldn’t have known how badly she needed him today, of all days, but he’d somehow known to pick today to drive up on a motorcycle and sweep her off her feet. While Skye was still trying to figure out what to say in reply, her mom sidestepped closer to her.
Under her breath, she said, “From a lion tamer to a rock star. That’s not a good trend. Why do you keep wasting your time with these bozos who aren’t good for you now that you have so many fine men knocking down your door, thanks to the spell?”
Aside from the fact that Gentry was no bozo, her mom had a point—but Skye was in no mood to hear it. Exasperated, she walked closer to Gentry, out of her mom’s earshot.
“How’d you know where to find me?” she asked.
“I stopped by your house and your roommate told me you were at work.”
Her roommate. That just went to show how little they knew about each other and each other’s lives. Oh, well. It wasn’t like he was there today so the two of them could have deep, heart-to-heart conversations. She smothered the little voice in her head reminding her of what a bad idea this was, how it went against the promise she’d made herself to give him up.
Too many ears were cocked in their direction, taking in their every word and look, so she walked the rest of the way to him, until the rumble of the bike’s engine was loud in her ears and the smell of motor oil took her back to the days when she used to visit her dad at the resort maintenance shed. She’d perch on the hood of whatever golf cart or riding mower he was tinkering with and watch him work while she pelted him with endless questions about his tools and saws and employees.
Gentry maintained his cool, bad boy vibe as she approached. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip like she was dinner.
She assumed a femme fatale expression. “So you think I’ll just drop everything and jump on the back of your motorcycle?” She didn’t need to let him know just how tempting that idea was. Yet.
“I promise to make it worth your trouble.”
“That’s your pick-up line?” she teased. “Needs some work.”
In one fluid move, he reached out and closed his fist around her thin white uniform belt. He tugged her right up against him, his knuckles pressing into her belly. Up this close, the odor of the bike’s engine was eclipsed by the scent of oiled leather coming off his jacket and riding boots. Or maybe from the bike seat itself.
All of the above, she decided, moving her hand up to stroke his sleeve. Damn, she loved leather, the way it smelled, the way it felt against her skin. Growing up, leather meant long trail rides or quiet afternoons polishing saddles and organizing tack. And, now she was all grown up, she’d developed quite the appetite for leather on her men and in her bedroom.
With his free hand, Gentry lifted a strand of her hair off her shoulder and wound it around his finger. “Baby, you got it all wrong. I’m not tryin’ to pick you up. I’m tryin’ to lay you down.”
That growling Oklahoma drawl lit her body up like wildfire as much as his words did.
She let her gaze crawl down his body in a brazen inspection, all the way to where his crotch rested against the shiny black leather seat. Such a fine body. If they hadn’t been standing in front of an audience that included her mother and several members of her staff, Skye would’ve rewarded Gentry’s smirking lips with a teasing kiss. Perhaps it was good that she couldn’t follow her instinct, because there was something delicious about the idea of playing hard to get for this brazen alpha of a man who rolled up unannounced and expected to get exactly what he wanted, when he wanted.
Even though she knew she’d give him exactly what he wanted. Because she wanted it too. Nothing would help her forget her grief like a night with Gentry. Nothing.
She shoved playfully against him until he released her belt. With a toss of her hair, she strutted away from him back toward Remedy and the rest of the crowd that had gathered, swinging her hips. “I have to finish my shift, and then we’ll see.”
She didn’t actually have a shift to finish because, technically, she had both today and Sunday off work, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Fine. I’m still gonna be waiting here when it ends. That’s a promise.”
Carlotta, the graveyard shift manager, shuffled forward with flushed cheeks and one eye on Gentry. “I’ll cover your shift. You go have some fun. Someone might as well.”
That was sweet of her. Skye was ready to say as much when a throat cleared nearby. Skye didn’t need to look to know who it was. She felt the icy needles of her mom’s disapproving glare pricking on her skin. That alone would have been enough to propel Skye onto the back of Gentry’s motorcycle, even if this weekend’s devastating anniversary wasn’t looming over her.
Call it childish, but over the years, Skye had developed quite the appetite for the sweet taste of rebellion against her mother.
“I’m with Carlotta. Why wait until your shift’s over?” he mom said dryly. “We’ll manage just fine without you. Don’t let me hold you back.”
Skye had to fight a wince. What her mom really meant was don’t let me hold you back from doing something stupid, the trademarked line she’d created when Gloria was in high school. She’d lobbed the words at both sisters whenever she felt them in danger of making a choice that went against their family values. But what had started as a dig meant to convince them to do their homework or not attend a party being held by one of their classmates while their parents were out of town had morphed into a general criticism of how Skye conducted her life. Gloria, it seemed, had been exonerated from the cutting remarks by the death of her husband.
If they had not been surrounded by employees, her mom would have said as much today. But surrounded they were. Skye couldn’t find it in her heart to care, not about the scene she was causing or her mom’s concerns. On some days, survival by any means necessary won out over common sense, and today was one of those days. If she could ride out the tide of her grief with a kindred gypsy spirit, then so much the better.
“I guess I’m free, after all,” she said. “But I still need to go home and change.”
“No need for that. Like last time, I’ll buy you whatever we need when we get where we’re going.”
“Where are we going?”
That wolfish grin reappeared. “No idea. Does it matter?”
“No.”
He seared the air between them with a smoldering gaze that seemed to lock on the sway of her hips as she walked to the bike again. The appraisal rendered her breathless with anticipation. She could see clearly in his dark, hungry eyes all the plans he had for her body.
He was going to make her sing. The thought made her smile as she took in the guitar strapped to the back rest. Of course he would. After all, he was a professional, wasn’t he? A country-bred rock star to his core.
“Tell me that smile’s for me,” he drawled.
She dipped her face close to his, letting her lips hover only inches from his. “What do you think?”
He angled up to kiss her, but she evaded his efforts. She didn’t want to be the only one hot and bothered on their ride. She took the spare helmet from his hands and set it on her head as she swung behind him on the bike.
She felt twenty again. Twenty and invincible. Just as she had been back then before it all fell apart. Every woman deserves this, she thought. To be twenty and free again. Just a glimpse of what it might be like to be granted a do-over. It wasn’t a time of innocence, but pure power. She had all the time in the world, and the freedom that came along with it.
There w
as no failed marriage or broken heart. No baby lost or parents’ disappointment. No responsibilities, no shame. Just joy and freedom and the power of sexual discovery pulsing through her veins. Just for tonight, she was going to live in that space. She was going to let Gentry Wells take her there, wherever there happened to be. She honestly didn’t care.
The wind in her hair, her arms around Gentry. She knew she would have second thoughts about letting him go. This man who was so far from what she needed, yet everything she wanted. Even before they’d reached the highway, she felt untamable. Her hair whipping in the wind, the open road stretched out in front of them.
* * *
Somewhere on a mountain pass near the Texas/Oklahoma border, where Gentry had pulled them off the road and onto a secluded lookout point, Skye spread a blanket over a concrete picnic table as a makeshift tablecloth. The lookout point they’d found was tucked away from the road, giving it the illusion of solitude along with sweeping views of lush, sprawling mountains and valleys of northern Texas.
While Gentry tinkered with his bike, Skye set out the chicken they’d picked up at a fast-food joint next to a gas station back in Vernon. She sat at the picnic table and plucked a leg from the top of the bucket. She sank her teeth into it, savoring the crunch of salty, oily goodness that made her hum with pleasure. Her focus drifted to the setting sun looming over the hills on the horizon, and she stretched her legs out in front of her, smiled at the contrast of the picture-perfect sunset to her terminally uncool, plain black work sneakers.
That’s what she got for jumping on the back of a motorcycle straight from work. Usually on work days in which she had a date immediately afterward, she brought a change of clothes, but—
She sat straight up on a gasp.
Eddie Rivera. Their date was tonight. With a muttered curse of shock at her forgetfulness, she pawed through her purse in search of her phone. She didn’t let out a breath until she saw the time. It was only seven and he wasn’t supposed to pick her up until eight. She still had time to text him, and, thankfully, she actually had cellphone service, even though they were in the seemingly middle of nowhere.
One Wild Night Page 16
