"There's nothing to be glad about. I like my privacy. I don’t like houseguests."
"What about the haircut? About trimming down that giant hairball you used to wear on your face? That's just out of the blue?"
"It's easier to keep the stitches dry and I'd been meaning to cut it anyway. Just didn't have time." He wasn’t about to mention that Patterson was the one who’d cut it. Dan would read way more into that.
"All you have is time, but whatever. So you don't mind if I take Patterson out tomorrow night?"
He went for a nonchalant shrug, even though every instinct in his body was screaming at him to say yes, he goddamn well did mind. "She's a grown woman." She was, too. Not a child. All the years between them that he had put at the front of his mind to prevent just what he'd started last night from happening had come tumbling down the minute he kissed her—really kissed her, like a man kissed a woman he wanted with every pulse of blood through his veins. And he wanted Patterson, of that there was no doubt. Which was exactly why he needed space from her. She wasn't for him. She was too...messy.
"Great. I've got a lot I want to show her." The note in Dan's voice made Trent want to punch him.
Trent gritted his teeth and kept his fists at his side. "She's Hank's niece."
"So? She's a grown woman. You said so yourself."
"She's got a boyfriend. Back in L.A."
"That's between Patterson and him. Nothing to do with me."
"She's too young."
"She's legal."
Were these excuses why Dan shouldn't date her or why Trent couldn't? He knew the answer to that. Trent set down the caulk gun. "I'm done here. You can finish by yourself, right?"
"Why can't you admit you don't want her to go out with me?"
"Why are you pushing me? If you want to take her, take her. I'm not her keeper."
"Kevin—
"I..." god how he wanted Dan to just stop and leave Patterson alone. But it wasn't his call. She wasn't his and if he had his way, never would be. He had no claim on her, no right to say who she dated and who she didn't. He was darkness and shadow. She was sunshine and rainbows. So was Dan. "No, it's...fine."
Dan sighed. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure." He had to be. He left Dan to finish the work and headed back to his house.
Trent passed Patterson in the yard between their houses. She as carrying two tall glasses of tea with a lemon wedge on each and it looked like—yes— she'd put on more lipstick making her already luscious lips look even more kissable. And that short dress she was wearing had “sex” written all over it. Her shoulders were bare save for two spaghetti straps. The skirt swirled around her thighs, well above her knees and Trent stiffened, remembering the way her soft body had molded to his, what she tasted like, the way she'd moaned when he'd touched her.
He was going to drive himself nuts if he kept thinking about that.
"Thanks for helping Dan with the door,” she said, slowing down.
He nodded. "Should be done in about half an hour, though you'll want to use the front door until everything sets."
"I'll move my stuff back to Hank's and be out of your hair before dinner."
"Great. I mean—" Why was this so awkward? It was like he was a 4th grader with a crush on the only girl in class mature enough to wear a bra. She was a mystery and a source of endless fascination. "It not that I want you out," he lied. "I just figured you'd want your own space."
"Sure thing. Thanks." Her smile was too bright and goddamn it, he knew he'd just managed to hurt her feelings. She didn't deserve it; this was all about him. He was a damn idiot. "I'm just going to take this over to Dan and maybe chat for a while. Then I'll get my stuff."
Trent's fists clenched at his sides as he watched her walk away from him. Not his problem. Not his girl. If he kept repeating that maybe he'd be able to sleep tonight.
Trent went into the house, shutting the French doors behind him. He grabbed a water out of the fridge and sat at the island. It was too quiet, all of a sudden. What the hell had happened to him in the past 24 hours? Had it really only been a day since Patterson had crashed into his life?
It was strange. The past decade had slipped past, one day melting into another, hell, one year melting into the next, with no discernable markers to punctuate their progress. He'd been living so much inside his head, he'd barely registered the outside world or its doings at all. He'd been happy to sit on the couch, or go fishing from dawn until dusk, never saying a word to another human being if Hank wasn't with him. But he could recall each and every moment of the past 24 hours since he’d met Patterson minute by minute in excruciating detail.
It was her. Patterson. She had done this to him. And now he couldn't be in his own house alone for five minutes?
Frustrated, he went outside to get the mail. He refused to glance at her (CAR) parked in Hank's driveway. He hoped to hell she wasn't going to be staying with Hank long. He wasn't sure he could bear seeing her come and go and not touch her or talk to her or just look at her. It had been a long time since he'd crushed on a girl, but he was pretty sure that’s what was happening.
Trent sifted through the stack of mail from the box as he walked back up the driveway. Bills, advertisements, invitations to attend church services at the Baptist temple around the corner, more ads, another envelope from the Opry.
He hadn't been to the Opry in years, let alone played the stage. Not since Amy, the other half if his duo. They were probably looking for a donation. It had cost a fortune to repair the place after the flood.
He opened the envelope and slid the letter out. He scanned it once then read it again before putting it back in the envelope.
Well, wasn't that just a kick in the teeth? Since he hadn't been able to fulfil his obligation of membership, namely performing at the Opry ten times a year or more, and wasn't really part of the music business any longer, the Opry management had decided to revoke his membership.
He went in the house and sat in his chair, all the air leaving his lungs. He didn't care so much, but Amy had been ecstatic when, after playing a few songs off their new album at the Opry one night, X, one of her country music idols had come out on stage and invited them to become the Opry’s newest members. It was an exclusive group, not always based on how many records you'd sold or critical kudos or awards. Management chose the membership based on how an act embodied the spirit of country music, how they viewed each act as a contributor and an ambassador for the whole genre. It was something that had been on Amy's bucket list since the first time they'd taken the stage and stood on the wooden circle cut from the original Ryman Opry stage and sang together.
Even after Amy's death, that was one thing that had comforted Trent—that she'd gotten to live that part of her dream. And now some suit had decided to revoke their membership. Sure, it did usually terminate on the death of the member, but half the act was still alive and kicking, even if he didn't play anymore. Or write. Or attend any industry events.
He crushed the paper. It felt like a slap in the face to Amy's memory. It felt like he'd let her down yet again by withdrawing from the life they'd made together so completely that they were taking away the one thing that had been any kind of solace to him in his darkness. Goddamn if he was going to let that happen.
Yesterday he would have shrugged his shoulders and said “whatever” but today was different. He was different. Something had sparked to life within him. Maybe it was the head injury or maybe it was the woman who'd pushed him kicking and screaming back to world, whether she realized she had or not.
Trent was fired up, ready to fight and he was goddamn tired of feeling guilty.
*****
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Nashville Crush Page 8
