“I could never understand why he couldn’t get over it. I know that sounds harsh and stupid, but I was a throw-away kid. I didn’t understand that kind of loss. And by the time I’d figured it out, it was too late.”
Throw-away kid. She didn’t think she’d ever heard anything sadder. Her heart broke for that little boy all over again. At least Johnny had known what it was like to be loved by two adoring parents. Gavin never had. She wanted to comfort him but knew he’d see it as pity and hate it. She steeled herself to keep her face neutral. “I’m sorry, Gavin.”
He flipped a shell off his finger and squinted at the horizon. “I blame myself. If only I’d insisted he go back to rehab, maybe…”
“Did you take him to rehab the first time?”
His head fell back to the top of the beach chair. “The first time, the second time, and every time after that, and every time he’d tell me I was ruining his life. He’d get better, check himself out, do well for a while, and then fall off the wagon again.”
“Sounds like you did all you could do. You couldn’t be with him twenty-four hours a day, Gavin. The bottom line is, we can want good things for the people in our life, but we can’t make them accept it.”
“Yeah, I know you’re right. But I promised him I’d take care of him when we were kids. It’s hard.”
Gavin Bain was a brave man. His whole existence was an exercise in courage. Everything had been taken from him, and he’d built a life that he lived on his own terms with brazen boldness.
It was convicting. She’d been given every opportunity in life and made decisions one after another out of fear. She was afraid of her father’s reaction, so she never told him how much her mother’s death affected her. She was afraid of what people would think of her, so she never told anyone about what happened with Poppy. She was afraid of looking stupid, so she’d agreed to the ridiculous contest Carousel set up.
She was afraid.
She was afraid.
She was afraid.
There was something she could do to change that right now. She grabbed her phone and dialed the familiar number.
Marie picked up on the first ring. “Scarlett. It’s about time you returned my call. We have a crisis. Where are you?”
“In Los Angeles.”
“What? Why? Never mind. Carousel wants an explanation for that scene on TV. The only explanation I had was that you were on drugs, and that didn’t seem the most constructive thing to say.”
“I understand. Please convey my deepest apologies to the network.”
Marie expelled a sigh. “I will. Now we need to come up with a plausible explanation for that stunt in the bar.”
“I’m afraid you misunderstand me, Marie. I have no intention of explaining myself to them. I’m withdrawing from the competition.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m withdrawing. I should have backed out as soon as they presented it, but I didn’t have the guts or the integrity to do it then. I do now.”
“What will I tell them?”
“Tell them my work is worth more than this ridiculous game and that it stands on its own merit. Tell them good luck finding anything better than my books.”
“Scarlett—”
“I have to go, Marie. I’ll be in touch.” She jabbed the disconnect button and threw the phone into the bag beside her.
“Right on. ’Bout time you told ’em where to shove their deal, Red.”
His approval meant more than one hundred Carousel contracts. “You.”
“Me?”
“After watching you today with Maury and Wynn, I was inspired. It took an enormous amount of courage to decline their offer, an offer I know you desperately want. You said no to a lot of money on principle because it would’ve cheapened your worth and Johnny’s memory.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well.”
She put her hand on his shoulder. “You stood up for yourself, you didn’t compromise, and you didn’t let them push you around. It was awesome.”
“Yeah. But you stood up to them first, badass.”
“And now I’ve done the same for myself. A little late, but…go us.” She held up her bottle of water for a toast.
He tapped his to hers. “Go us.”
Chapter 19
The sound of the surf beyond the darkness accompanied the song Gavin played. He and Scarlett were reclining on the patio furniture under the stars. Every strum of the guitar, every crashing wave, every whiff of sea air and Scarlett’s perfume melted his muscles until he was boneless.
“Will you play The One I Never Had?” Scarlett lay on the deck chair next to him.
“Okay.”
“It’s my favorite Wolfe’s Bain song.”
His too, and one of the saddest of all the songs he’d ever written. About a girl he could never have…a life he could never have.
“You wrote the song?”
He continued to strum the guitar. “Yeah.”
“Was it about someone or just a great idea?” Her knees were bent, and she’d crossed one leg over the other. A jewel painted onto her pink toenail glinted in the pale light every time she swung her leg.
“Celeste Goldman, my chemistry lab partner, head cheerleader, class president, long blonde hair, big brown eyes, and a Porsche 911, every sixteen-year old’s wet dream, and I knew I could never have her or anyone like her. A foster kid with a juvie record didn’t date girls like her in real life. It was one of the first songs I ever wrote. I was in some serious lust with that girl, and maybe a little in love too.” He played a riff on the neck of the guitar, and didn’t add that the song defined his entire life.
“Did she ever know how you felt?”
“Nah. Besides, if she’d been interested it would have only been to piss off her parents. I’m not interested in being anyone’s revenge.”
She picked an orange from a bowl of fruit on the ground by their lounge chairs. “Don’t sell yourself short, rock star. You are mighty fine.”
“Am I now?”
“Please.” She tossed the orange from hand to hand. “You know you are. You’ve been one of People’s Sexiest Men of the Year twice.”
He chuckled. “Oh, yeah, I forgot.”
“Forgot, my Aunt Fanny.”
“Well, Sexiest Man or not, Celeste never gave me more than a courteous smile. I can’t say I blame her. I had a perpetual scowl, second-hand clothes, a chip as big as Texas on my shoulder, and zero manners. You don’t learn social niceties in the system. You learn to survive.”
“Sounds like a lonely way to live.”
“It was, but I had Johnny for most of the time I was a ward of the state.”
No one knew about Celeste or how shitty his life in the system was, except Johnny, and now she knew too. Maybe this was a test. Maybe if she heard enough, she’d realize what a load of crap she’d picked up in Vegas. He waited for the platitudes to begin. The things people say to make themselves feel better about another person’s crappy life.
“Mmm.”
Interesting, not one platitude in sight. “Yeah, I left as soon as I could.”
“When did you get out?”
“When I was eighteen. I got out about six months before Johnny. I lived on the streets, played for tips, and put my survival skills to the test. When he got out, he inherited some money from his parents’ life insurance, so we were able to get a ratty apartment together.”
He slid his thumb ring off and slowly rolled it between his fingers. “We’d play on the streets during the day, then any seedy bar we could find at night. One day we’re playing, and this guy comes up to us and hands us his card. Tells us to call him if we’re interested in a record deal.” He laughed and draped his arm over the guitar in his lap. “We didn’t let him get three feet away before we chased him down and told him hell yes, we were interested. That was Mike West, our first manager. He got us a demo made, and within six months a record deal with a major label, and the rest is history.”
“He didn’t do a
good job, or what?”
“Mike was a great guy. He looked out for us. Made sure we had food and were safe. But as the money started rolling in our assholery grew exponentially.” He rubbed at a nick on the guitar.
“Ah, the classic big-head-rock-star syndrome.” Scarlett pushed her fingernail under the skin of the orange and peeled off a long strip.
He loved the sight of her legs in the moonlight, and the crisp smell of orange, and he most definitely loved that she didn’t let him get away with anything. “More like dick-head-rock-star syndrome.”
She laughed. “You said it, not me.”
“Truth is truth. We fired him after the second album because we thought he was holding us back. In truth, he was still trying to protect us from making dumbass business decisions. But you couldn’t tell either of us anything. We thought we were gods, and we burned bridges for entertainment back then. It’s a wonder either one of us came out with any money.”
“Is that why this deal with Storm Side was so important, you need the money?”
“Nah. Thankfully we weren’t total idiots and invested well. We kept the rights to our songs, so there are royalties, and I was Johnny’s sole beneficiary.”
“So why were you willing to do business with those two turds?”
His wife slowly bit down on a juicy wedge of orange, savoring the delicious fruit. The motion of her teeth breaking into the soft flesh, the dribble of juice that ran down her chin, and her soft moan of pleasure turned him on like nothing else ever had. He readjusted himself on the lounge. “I just want to make music again. It’s all I know how to do. It’s honest work, and I’m good at it.” While that was the truth, the bigger issue was he didn’t want his son thinking he was a bum and couldn’t hold a job.
“Whatever happened to Mike West? Why didn’t you contact him when you decided to make a comeback?” She separated the orange and offered him a slice.
He popped it into his mouth. “He’s selling insurance in Monroe, Louisiana these days. About six months after Johnny died, I got a card from him. Can you believe it? We treated him like shit, and he tracks me down to give me his condolences. Like I said, a good guy.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Anyway, he put his phone number on the card, and I gave him a call. He got out of the business about a year after we parted ways, too much stress. Said he wasn’t made for the cut-throat nature of the music business. His family has a insurance firm in Monroe, and he runs that with his wife.” He held his hand out, and she gave him another slice of orange. “I would’ve gotten in touch with him eventually, though.”
“Why?”
“After I moved back to Seattle I created my own twelve-step program for myself, Asshole’s Anonymous. Hello, I’m Gavin, and I’m a bitter, angry asshole. One of the steps is to make amends to people you’ve wronged, and man did we wrong Mike. We were a couple of stupid pricks.”
She snorted.
He set his guitar into the case. “You think I’m bad now, you should’ve known me then. And Johnny’s death made me worse. I couldn’t keep living with all of that shit. I would’ve hurt myself or someone else. So I found a shrink and started therapy.”
It was like there was no filter on his mouth, but it felt good to talk about it. He was proud of the work he’d done, proud that he was in a better place. And he wanted her to know he was a better man than he used to be.
“Gavin, that’s maybe the bravest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Something sweet and corny spread through his heart, and he liked it. He liked it a bit too much. “I’m sick of talking about myself.” He picked up his guitar again. “Want to hear another song?”
He loved hanging out with his wife. She calmed the tilt-a-whirl of bad stuff that spun continuously in his head. Scarlett was the most amazing woman he’d ever known in all ways but one.
What the hell was the deal with the money? It didn’t compute. Luanne’s words from the day before came back to him.
If you had to pick ten words to describe Scarlett, where would gold-digger fall on that list?
“Scarlett?”
“Mmmh?”
“Why did you change your mind about taking the money?”
Silence.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you did. But I just can’t make it fit in my head. You were so against it, almost to the point of doing me bodily harm, and then you weren’t.”
She threw her legs over the side of the chair, facing him. He thought she would bolt and not answer him, but he was wrong.
“I meant what I said about not wanting your money, and I was royally ticked when you offered it.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I got that. So what changed?”
She played with the hem of her shirt and wouldn’t look at him.
He took her chin and tilted her face up so he could see her eyes. “Whatever it is, I won’t be mad. I just want to know.”
“That day was so insane, and all I wanted to do was run away. But I needed to tell my dad about the marriage. Before I got a chance to talk to him, I overheard a phone conversation between him and Poppy Sims, the new bank president.” She wiped a single tear that ran down her cheek and looked back at the ocean. “Poppy called due the loan on the farm. Daddy has to pay fifty thousand dollars or the bank will take our home.”
The squeal of feedback from her words reverberating through his head made it hard to compute everything she was saying. This was the last thing he’d expected to hear her say. Not only had she not wanted his money, but she’d compromised herself for her family. His heart damn near burst from his ribs.
“Please understand, the farm’s been in our family for three generations. It’s all he has, Gavin—”
The guitar dropped to the ground, and he was on her before she could finish her sentence. His mouth covered hers and took everything she had to offer, everything he’d wanted since the first time he kissed her in that dark bar in Vegas. She gave as good as she got, and it melted the thin veneer of restraint he tried to keep.
Victory spiked in his bloodstream. He drew back enough to look into her eyes and kissed each side of her delicious mouth. “I knew it.”
Her arms went around him and held him tight. “I’m so sorry.” She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and met each thrust of his tongue. Every bone in his jaded, cynical body melted. She was all he’d ever wanted.
Coming up for air, he whispered, “Don’t be sorry. Just kiss me like that again.”
A sultry smile spread across her face. She slid her hand under his shirt and rested it on his pecs. “I want to touch you. Feel you. See you.”
Her breathy words speared him to the spot. Nothing could’ve made him move while this woman felt her way around his body. Rounded nails trailed and circled his nipple with methodical slowness. “Jesus, you’re killing me.” Every second that passed, he died a thousand deaths of pleasure. Her fingers explored each muscle. Her delving and probing shot past bone and sinew, straight to the place his desire boiled like molten fire.
He held his breath as her probing hand inched lower. When she got to the band of his shorts, she glanced up at him with glazed, unfocused eyes. “I want to love you, Gavin. Show me how.”
Her broken words and trust in him nearly brought him to his knees. “I’ve got you, baby. Wrap your legs around my waist.”
He gripped her ass, welcoming her sweet weight in his arms, and headed for the bedroom. All he wanted to do was throw her down on the bed, yank her legs open and bury himself inside her for days.
But he had to make this right. All the women who’d bounced across his bed had taught him nothing about how to handle a virgin.
He kicked open the door with his foot and welcomed the stabbing pain radiating from his bare foot. If he could focus on that, he might be able to do this without embarrassing himself or hurting her.
Scarlett reclined on the bed. So damn beautiful. Her red hair spread in wild abandon over the pillows, and her hips were encased in jean shorts she wore
like a second skin.
She really was going to kill him. “I want to go slow, Scarlett. I’ve never been someone’s first time. I don’t want to hurt you.”
In response, she undid the snap of her shorts and lowered the zipper.
His mouth went dry when she lifted her hips and pushed the shorts down to kick off the end of the bed, leaving a tiny blue thong in their wake.
Her foot stroked his thigh. “Take off your shirt, Gavin.”
It was gone in a second.
“Now your pants.” She sat up, crossed her arms and whipped off her top. An indigo lace bra encased her breasts, dusky nipples shadowed behind the fabric.
“Fuck.” He studied the wall behind her, anything to stem the raging need pounding through him.
“Is something wrong?”
A strangled laugh nearly choked him. “I could go to jail for the things I want to do to you. I’m hanging on by a thread here, Scarlett.”
A warm, low chuckle tumbled from her mouth. “Gavin, look at me. I’ve waited a long time for this.” Her soft fingers clasped his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Her words gutted him. He’d never been trusted with such a valuable gift before. His hand moved to the top of his shorts and popped the top button. With quick work, his pants joined hers on the ground.
The bed creaked as he lowered his weight onto the mattress, into her open arms. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. This was where he was meant to be.
Hands, arms, legs, her whole body searched to get closer to him. “I want you inside me.”
He licked around the delicate shell of her ear. “I want that too. Patience. We’ll get there.”
“How can you be patient?”
The secret she was keeping behind the thin strip of lace dipping between her thighs begged to be discovered. He hooked his thumb under the elastic and pulled. The soft, tiny piece of fabric popped and fell away. He swallowed her gasp in a long, drugging kiss.
Moving from her mouth to her neck to her full breast was a journey of discovery and torture. Each cry, each sigh made him desperate for release. He made short work of the barely there, peek-a-boo bra and feasted on one nipple and then the other.
Brides on the Run (Books 1-4): Small-Town Romance Series Page 18
