He liked the way she teased and eased his mind.
Her smile faded as she studied him. “You don’t like the reporters very much. That much is obvious.”
His discomfort wasn’t lost to her. It never was.
“What I don’t like is feeling like a puppet.”
She shrugged and brushed her hand on his shoulder. “Unfortunately, it comes with the territory. They’ve got the power to spread the word about your music. Like it or not, you need them.”
Brock understood that, even if he didn’t like having to play the game. “The crowd is great. I love meeting the fans and seeing how excited they are about my music.”
Josie picked up her bottled water from the table, opened it, and took a sip. She looked up at him again, seeing into his soul in a way no other woman had ever done.
“You did great out there.”
“Thanks.”
“Then what’s the gloomy face all about?”
Steeling a glance at the tent door for Will, he shrugged. In a minute, Will would be back, waving at him to go back out into that chaos.
“Nothing ever gets past you, does it? I guess I’m just a little tired,” he lied.
She stared at him for a lingering moment. “Overwhelmed? You’re entitled. The energy on that stage was incredible. It’s like that every night. No wonder you sleep like a baby on the bus.”
“Thanks for being here,” he said, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
“My pleasure.” Standing on her toes, she kissed his lips softly. He was just about to drag her into his arms for the kind of embrace he’d been dreaming about all week when Will appeared at the door of the tent and motioned to Brock to come out to meet the fans.
He groaned. “I guess I’m on again.”
“I swear he times it that way.” The disappointment in her eyes mirrored how Brock felt. “Well, cowboy, go give ‘em what they want,” she said, brushing her hand across his back.
“Not before I do this,” he said. Bending his head, he pressed his mouth to hers, drinking in what he was thirsty for-the sweet tenderness of Josie. And when he pulled away, she was smiling up at him, making his heart sing.
He’d smile for the crowd and give them what they wanted. But what Brock wanted more than anything right at that moment was to just stay under that tent and watch Josie’s smiling face. Instead, he handed her his beer and headed for the tent door.
The warm, familiar lump at Josie’s feet was a comforting reminded she wasn’t alone in the world. She heard the steady breathing and occasional quiet sigh and knew Dexter was sound asleep. Unfortunately, even after the long day she’d spent in the sun, sleep eluded her.
Pulling back the small curtain that covered the window in her bunk, Josie noticed a big, bright, yellow moon hanging high above the earth, dropping moonbeams down from the sky. The cloudless day made it impossible not to notice the beauty of the night.
The bus was still parked at the beach where they did the show. A few of the band members had wanted to get motel rooms and sleep in decent beds, but Will said they’d save that for when they reached Nashville.
Now that the crowd was gone, there wasn’t a sound outside but the rumble of the surf. It should have helped lull her to sleep, but instead, she tossed in her bed, upsetting Dexter every time she moved.
As small as her bed was, she’d gotten used to sleeping on the bus as it rolled along the highway. Maybe that’s why she was having such a hard time sleeping tonight. She’d totally disrupted her normal schedule, not that there’d been much of one since she’d left home. While each town brought something new on this adventure, there was still a repetition of mundane tasks and a schedule that was impossible to set your watch by. There was often a rush to set up, break down, and stay on schedule only to be holed up later in the bus with nothing to do for hours on end.
Before she’d left home, she’d remembered how tiring it could be on the road and how boredom could overwhelm you if you didn’t plan to have something to take your mind off the idleness. Preparing for that, Josie had remembered to toss a few books she’d been meaning to read into her bag along with some knitting she’d started far too many years ago and never seemed to finish. She hadn’t yet pulled out the yarn, but the books had been a good addition to her duffle.
It was easier to fill the days than to get through the nights, she found. In the quiet of the night, she often found herself thinking back to past mistakes and regrets. Leaving home so young hadn’t seemed like a bad idea at the time, but she’d paid the price of her impulsiveness over the years. She couldn’t change the past or take back the pain she’d caused her family any more than Grant Davies could ease the hurt she’d felt after his betrayal.
But that was in her past. This road trip was meant to right the wrongs she could change. No regrets. Brock Gentry had pulled her out of a spiraling path to nowhere and helped her get back on track. For that she’d always be grateful.
She yawned, and even though she couldn’t sleep, fatigue pulled at her. At night she could admit to herself the things she refused to acknowledge during the day, during the moments when Brock’s warm blue eyes would smile at her from the other side of the bus or when he was on stage and seemed to look out into the crowd and sing only to her. There were moments when she felt as though they were the only two people on earth. Just her and Brock.
It was a nice fantasy that she’d allowed herself every so often. There was so much more to what she felt for Brock thanjust gratitude. It was those feelings that she feared the most, the ones that made her forget the plans she’d mapped out on paper that day when she’d wrestled with whether or not to go on this road trip. The last thing she wanted was to repeat a history that had ended with her heart being ripped to shreds.
She flung the curtain closed, shutting out the bright moon. She rolled over to her side, punching her pillow twice for good measure. Dexter gave her only a mild protest for disturbing his peace again and quickly settled. She envied her small friend. If only she could do the same.
“Josie? Are you awake?”
Josie’s heart leaped to her throat with the sound of Brock’s whispered voice.
Pulling back the privacy curtain, she looked up at him in the darkness. “What are you doing up?”
“Same as you. Can’t sleep.”
Her heart lifted a notch, glad for the company. “I would have thought you’d be dead tired after today.”
Brock crouched down to where she was and leaned forward. Though she’d pulled the curtain closed in order to keep the moonlight from shining in, she now regretted it. There was minimal light in the aisle and she could barely make out the contours of Brock’s face. But she imagined him smiling down at her, his dimple marking his cheek, teasing her.
From the back of the bus, the sounds of deep breathing and the occasional snort and snore broke the silence.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, a mischievous tone in his voice.
ight now? It’s the middle of the night, Brock.”
“Do you know of a better time when we won’t be hounded by people?”
“No.” Excitement replaced the fatigue she’d felt earlier.
“There are no fans around. No reporters to meet with. Best of all, Will is asleep and can’t promise me to anyone.”
“Ooh, sounds fabulous.”
“It’s just you and me. We’ve got the beach all to ourselves. I’m already dressed. I’ll give you a few minutes and meet you outside the bus.”
A few minutes later, after she’d pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, Josie climbed down the bus steps and found Brock standing there. His head was tilted up to the clear sky that was illuminated by the moon. In his hands, he held what looked like a bucket.
“In a way it’s too bad there is a full moon tonight,” he said.
“Why? I think it’s beautiful.” She wrapped the small blanket she’d taken from her bunk around her shoulders.
“
It is, but it’s so bright it covers the stars.”
She glanced down at the bucket in his hand. “What’s this?”
He turned to her and flashed a playful smile. His hair shone bright and golden against the light of the moon.
“You’ll see. Come with me.”
He transferred the bucket to the other hand and lazily draped his arm around her. She was glad for the blanket, but the heat she felt from Brock was much more inviting.
When they reached the end of the parking lot, he turned to her. Reaching out, he clasped his hand over hers as they descended the steps together.
Despite her every attempt to convince herself it meant nothing, something warm and wonderful brewed in her stomach with his gesture. It was clear he’d been taught his manners well. He was a gentleman who didn’t wear a blue suit and work a normal nine to five job. Brock was a man clad in denim, who held a guitar and a captive audience with his songs. And no matter what she did to stop it, in these short weeks, he’d captured her heart as well.
“I’d never seen the ocean until I left home,” she said. It was the first tour with Grant, something similar to the gig they’d done at the festival. She and Grant hadn’t spent a moonlit night on the beach and for that she was grateful. Josie wanted to enjoy this precious time alone with Brock without old memories intruding, then leaving her cold as they always did. She didn’t want to think about the band or where they were going. She just wanted to enjoy Brock.
“We went once, as kids. An old-fashioned family vacation.” He sputtered as if remembering an old joke but was keeping it to himself. But then he said, “My parents loaded all four of us into the minivan and headed to the coast. I remember my mother was at her wits end with all of us, mostly my older brothers, who were at that age when a brawl at the dinner table was a daily event. I think Cody and Beau fought the entire way. Jackson just sat back, like he always did, and kept score of who was winning.”
He laughed, but Josie could tell the memory was bittersweet.
“I don’t know what made mom think she was going to get a break from all the chaos in the house.”
Sand was seeping into her sneakers, making her feet uncomfortable. Josie slipped off her shoes and pulled at her socks, tucking them securely inside the shoes and hooked the combo on her fingers. The smooth sand chilled her feet, but was welcome.
“This looks like a pretty good spot,” Brock said, dropping the bucket and crouching down to look at the surf tumbling in to shore.
“For what?”
“Building a sandcastle.” He glanced up at her with a playful smile.
Her hands flew to her cheeks. “Are you out of your mind? A sandcastle?”
“Yeah, I’ve never done this before. Have you?”
“No.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing no one is around to watch us do this or it could be really embarrassing.”
Josie laughed and let the blanket slip off her shoulders. She dropped it on a dry area of sand a few yards from where they were working and plopped her sneakers on top.
“Even though the gulf water is warm, your feet are going to get cold,” he warned.
“You’ve got to live dangerously once in a while,” she teased, watching him dig what looked like a trench about twenty feet in diameter a few yards from the water’s edge.
She propped her hands on her hips. “Do you have a blueprint for this sandcastle? That looks awfully big.”
“Does it? I’m just winging it.”
She laughed. “You didn’t say we were building the Coliseum.”
“Ah, I could use a little help here,” he teased, leaning back on his heels in a crouched position.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Fill the bucket with wet sand. I guess we’ll start packing a foundation around the inside of the trench and figure out the rest as we go along.”
They worked for an hour or so, piling sand and smoothing the edges until the wall of the fortress was formed.
She’d been thinking about Brock all night, wanting time with him alone. She’d wondered about todaywhere he’d been and, more importantly, who he’d been with-when Will couldn’t find him before the performance.
“Did you enjoy the afternoon?” she finally asked.
He flashed her a smile. “I missed you. I came back to the bus and you weren’t there.”
“I was going to wait for you, but…”
“You don’t have to wait around for me, Josie. I don’t want you missing the sites just because Will’s got me tied up.”
Rolling her eyes she said, “Fine sites I saw today. I did laundry.”
“Don’t let the boys get wind of it. They’ll hit you up to do theirs.”
“They already did, but I told them they were on their own.”
He laughed and dumped a pile of sand in the center. A warm gust of gulf breeze blew his hair all around. He was so handsome, she had to pull her gaze away.
“You showed up just in the nick of time before the show today. I thought Will was going to have a coronary.”
Brock packed the sand down with his hand while she waited for him to answer. “The crowd was pretty thick by the time I headed out to the stage. It took longer than I expected.”
“Did you catch that reporter he was so anxious for you to meet with before the show?”
Brock looked at his work and seemed satisfied, then stood. “Yeah, I met him.” He strode back out toward the tide and filled the bucket with more wet sand.
Josie’s heart pumped, unable to voice the questions she so desperately wanted answered.
She didn’t say anything when he returned, just stared at him.
“He called me a clown,” Brock said, shaking his head. The hurt in his voice was heart wrenching. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected.
“A clown. What for?”
“It’s the darned clothes. I feel like a Vegas lounge singer.”
Josie shook her head and chuckled softly, mostly to rid herself of the tension plaguing her.
“Brock, he wasn’t calling you a clown, just the clothes. And from what I understand, this reporter is notorious for ripping performers apart. He has a wide readership but everyone knows he goes for sensationalism in his column. You shouldn’t let it bother you. Regardless of what he said, the publicity is good.”
“He called me a clown, Josie.” Brock wiped the sand from his hands as if he were trying to get rid of his disgust over the whole thing. “He wasn’t interested in anything about my music at all. Nothing about me or what we were working for.”
“My point exactly.” She softened her voice. “Look, you have to put this into perspective. He was making a comment about your clothes. So what? He wasn’t calling Brock Gentry, the man, a clown.”
“He might as well have. And now all those fans who were enjoying themselves today are going to read that crap and-”
“What, change their minds? I don’t think so. If that was the case, Grant Davies would still be flipping burgers at the Radio Grill.”
Brock shot a quick glance up at her with the mention of Grant and Josie immediately regretted using him as an example. It had been a natural instinct. She shared a history of the beginning of Grant Davies’ career. She couldn’t pretend it had never happened, nor did she really want to despite the hurt it caused.
She’d already made the blunder. She decided she might as well go the distance. Years ago, she never would have been brave enough to voice her thoughts or distress to Grant. She wouldn’t make that mistake again with Brock. “Where did you go today?” she asked, biting her lower lip.
“I needed some space, so I took a walk. I just wanted to be alone to clear my head about a few things. I found this quiet spot at the end of the beach and sat by myself for a while.” His eyes never left hers and she had a feeling he knew what she was asking. “If I was going to be with anyone, Josie, I’d be with you.”
Her heart skipped a beat and she felt relief wash over her. He’d been alone.
“No one is ever going to see this. It’ll be washed away before the sun even comes up,” Josie said, her heart tugging with the idea that all their work would soon be lost to the ocean.
“It’s okay. It’s a Kodak moment.” He pulled a small camera from his pocket. With the flash of a grin, he looked into the lens and snapped the picture of her.
She laughed. “Is that a digital camera?”
“Sure is.”
“Do you think Will would mind letting you use his laptop for us to show the guys?”
He snapped a few pictures of the sandcastle, then moved to the back of it and, facing the water, caught a great shot of the moon sinking over the top of the castle in the horizon.
Snapping another picture of her, he said, “This is our little secret. We don’t have to share it with anyone.”
Her belly burned with memories. “You mean you want to be discrete,” she said, her voice low. She closed her eyes and called herself every kind of fool.
“Not at all. I don’t care if the world knows how I feel about you, Josie. In fact, I wouldn’t mind at all if I could scream it out from stage if I knew it wouldn’t embarrass you. It’s just that some things I don’t want to share. Like tonight. Does that make sense?”
Relief replaced her bitter feelings. “Yes, it does.”
“There’s got to be some place around here we can drop the disk for processing and have it catch up to us later on,” he said, looking through the viewfinder to see his work.
“Do you know what hotel we’re staying at in Nashville?”
“Will has it on the agenda. Good idea. We’ll snap a few pictures and drop the film off on our way out of Galveston. The hotel will hold them for us until we get there.”
The night they’d shared-and the picturesbelonged only to them. Josie liked knowing not every waking moment needed to be about the band or shared with them. She couldn’t image a more perfect night she’d spent with anyone.
In an hour or so, not only would their new castle be gone, but the sun would be high in the sky and their time alone would end.
Gypsy Hearts Page 7
