She still couldn’t quite figure out what he saw in her. But today, she promised not to question it and just go with the flow.
She had never encountered a species like Tyler before this summer. D’Anne admitted being amused by Nashville men when Reese was alive, but couldn’t imagine actually knowing one of them. Now here she was, living a new life, hanging out with a Texas guy, by way of Nashville, Tennessee. Who’d a thunk?
She felt as if she was in over her head. Didn’t he notice how he turned women’s heads when he passed? He drew attention to himself without even trying. And once he opened his mouth to sing, well, he had the ladies eating out of his hand.
Isn’t that what he had her doing? Was this some sort of midlife crisis? D’Anne turned her head to spy the fluffy Dalmatian replica on her back stuffed full of cash, feeling much heavier than it looked, and wondered why she was the one carrying it.
She pulled her cowboy hat down farther over her eyes. I must be nuts.
Tyler squeezed her hand and smiled his white-toothed grin. Damn, she loved that smile and mustache and the dimples that dwelled on each side. And she liked that he was a little over the hill, creased and broken-in like a favorite chair. She shook her head, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how strongly she reacted to him.
“I’m gonna sing a Buddy Holly song for you tonight,” he said stroking his thumb across her hand. “You be sure to listen.”
“Oh, I’ll be listening. I just wish I’d brought a poodle skirt and bobby socks.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
****
Ricky-Bob started the Buddy Holly set off with “That’ll be the Day” surprising D’Anne with how well he sang on his own. His fifties hairdo helped with the ambiance. Even J.T. had pulled his hair back and stuffed the excess beneath the collar of his white sports coat, for the evening. Only Bear stood out as a misfit in a pastel pink jacket and high cattleman hat, a situation he’d probably become used to in life.
At least he had his teeth in.
The auditorium swelled, filled mostly with people that could remember the wonderful tunes of Buddy Holly first hand. Many had brought children and grandchildren to even out the tally. Excitement buzzed the crowd along with an air of respect.
“I’d like to sing this next song in honor of a musical genius whose life was cut far too short,” Tyler said, too close to the mic. “Dead at twenty-three, before the sixties ever started, yet Buddy Holly managed to influence everyone in music from the Beatles to Motown.”
The second tune started with a rhythm and blues feel. D’Anne noticed Tyler wink. She thought it might be the cue for the song he’d promised her. He began and through the lyrics told her how it was going to be, “You’re gonna give your love to me.”
He stared, wearing a loud plaid sports coat, singing only to her. The look caused a tingling behind her knees and tickled down to her toes. She blamed it on the heat, became a little light headed, and excited as all get out. A few people standing next to her looked to see where he stared. She probably should have been embarrassed, but felt very different than that. If she had to put her finger on it, she felt hot. Very hot. And the feeling, like the words in the good old-fashioned love song, would not fade away.
Full of surprises, the man thrilled the hell out of her. Never had anyone come on to her in a song before. She glanced at the glaring neon replica of Buddy Holly’s famous guitar next to the stage. That’s how my heart feels—-loud and blaring—-and damn, if it doesn’t feel good.
The band ended the set to the beat of a glockenspiel. Tyler sang a cute little ditty about everyday getting a little closer. D’Anne got a kick out of Tyler’s Buddy Holly hiccup, “A hey hey, a hey hey.” And she found herself singing along with half of the audience to the sweet teenage love anthem. As usual the band knocked ’em dead, a phenomenon she’d quickly gotten used to.
Applause deadened the myriad questions floating around in her head. Everything in her life had always been carefully planned out and achieved in an orderly fashion. All D’Anne knew now was the moment and how good it felt to be a part of Tyler’s life on the express train to God only knew where.
She longed to have time alone with him, but couldn’t figure how that would be with three other musicians sharing the same deluxe RV. She remembered a little hotel she’d seen nearby and thought about spending some of the cold cash on a fancy suite. Would she burn in hell for such thoughts?
Right now, all she could think about was lust and Tyler White. She thought she was having a hot flash, but the heat centered between her legs. No amount of hormone therapy could cure it. No, siree. What she needed was some good hot sex.
Chapter Thirteen
Flat on her back in a strange hotel bed—D’Anne cringed.
“You can’t do that!” she blurted.
“The hell I can’t.” Tyler lifted his head from between her legs. “By the way, you’re living up to your name, Slick.”
“I don’t know you well enough for that.” She tried to knock her knees together, but Tyler wouldn’t let her.
“Dee, we’re adults and we’re buck naked. The way I see it, anything goes.” He stroked the inside of her thighs with his fingertips and smiled with lazy, tantalizing eyes, making it obvious he liked what he saw.
She almost melted, but regained her strength and resistance in the nick of time.
She tried her best not to react…not to giggle out of nervousness when he stroked her sensitive nub with his thumb.
“Oh, God!” Her knees slammed back together.
Tyler turned her on, no doubt about it, but a whirlwind of emotions messed up her head, tampered with the mood in the hotel room, and competed with the annoying sound of the elevator just outside their door. Up and down, up and down, the machinery made its aggravating presence known. Distracted and devilishly guilt ridden, D’Anne’s sensibility fought her sexuality and won.
This is insane!
Lubbock hotels were filled to capacity for the Buddy Holly festival. D’Anne and Tyler had to settle for a single star, AAA selection. She worried if the sheets were clean and whether anyone could hear them. If she were being unfaithful to Reese’s memory. If after twenty-five years of marriage she could actually pull off being with someone new. Not a good combination for making love for the first time.
But they were alone…at last.
They’d wrestled each other’s clothes off just moments before, barely making it inside the door. D’Anne felt transported back in time to youth and the first time with a boyfriend. He’d ravished her with kisses and promises. She’d fallen for every single one as he swept her along. This particular gesture of utmost intimacy was one of the promises he’d made, so why was she so shocked when he was only doing what he said he would?
Tyler gave her a friendly slap on the butt. Big, sturdy, and judging by the healthy size of him, in no need of Viagra tonight. “Quit acting like a virgin.”
Shocked, she gasped.
“Come on Dee, you’ve done this before, ain’t you?”
She lifted her head, looked down her chest to the view of Tyler between the V of her legs. “Not with you!”
He sat back on his heels. “Then it’s about time, don’t ya think?”
He moved over her. The heat of his breath danced across her ear. She shivered and shut her eyes tight. Feeling sophomoric, she covered them with her hands, bit the corner of her lip, groaned, and tensed every remaining muscle she still had control of. She heard her pulse hammering in her ears. A blush of heat washed over her entire body.
God, she wanted him. So why was she stalling? “Come on. Try me on for size, Dee,” he said with a heated whisper. “You’ll like this old country boy.”
He teased her earlobe with his tongue and nuzzled her hair with his nose, cupped her breast.
Shivers fanned out across her chest and arms, ran down her stomach and between her legs where they settled like a flashing neon jackpot sign. Hello. D’Anne thought
she might seize right there…on the bed…under her soon-to-be lover.
Lover? Far freaking out!
“You want me to put my hat and boots back on?” He scattered kisses along her neck sending a second attack of chills. She tried not to giggle like a schoolgirl.
Tyler took her left hand, attempted to slide off her wedding ring, but met with resistance. He put her entire finger into his mouth, sending shivers up her arm, and licked around the gold band until it gave way…right along with her will to resist him. He placed it on the bedside table, then nuzzled her neck. She was a goner.
He smelled primal and masculine, and yes, she wanted him more than she was willing to admit. The condition of the room melted away from her mind. She focused on Tyler, sensed his need, admitted her own, and finally accepted his larger-than-life presence.
“Let’s make love, Slick,” he coaxed.
The weight of his ample erection on her belly sent electric jolts to her core each time their flesh touched. She sampled it, sliding her fingers along its silken length, and heard him groan. Her hands wandered over the blanket of soft, fair curls on his abdomen and chest. She’d memorized the picture the first time she’d seen him shirtless. Her fingers dug into the smooth skin on his shoulders. Desire broke through the last threads of resistance. She took a deep breath, swallowed, and opened her eyes to see his fine-looking face wickedly smiling down on her.
“Let’s go for it,” she said.
****
“Mornin’,” Tyler said.
He saw Ricky-Bob flipping flapjacks on a Coleman stove perched on the picnic table at the campsite. A cigarette dangled from his lower lip. Ricky-Bob glanced up, did a double take, and tried to act uninterested when he and Dee approached. Bear lounged, passed out on a rickety old metal patio recliner. One hand flopped to the side, the other behind his head as if he was trying to stare at the sun with his eyes closed. An occasional snort and drawn-out snore echoed around the site.
“Hey, I bet you two are hungry,” Ricky-Bob said, keeping busy.
Tyler noticed Dee blush a pretty shade of pink and look shyly away. She’d put her cowboy hat on rather than mess with her hair back at the hotel, and looked damned cute, almost like a country girl.
He didn’t want to leave the hotel nearly so soon this morning once they’d made love…again. After their shower he was ready for more. But he’d made the mistake of checking his cell phone messages and found a third call from the music promoter, Pauline. This one said Urgent. He hadn’t the foggiest idea how he planned to deal with it.
“I bet you boys are waiting to get paid.” Tyler said, when Bear returned to the living.
“Gina’ll be glad about that,” Ricky-Bob said. He looked at Dee, smiled, puffed on his smoke, and spit a bit of tobacco from his tongue.
“Where’s J.T.?” she asked.
“Turns out that waitress from Memphis quit her job. She has a hotel room somewhere in town,” Ricky-Bob said. “He’s with her.”
“Giving her a housewarming party?” Dee asked. Tyler laughed. Dee was coming around,
loosening up, and it became her. It was about time. “Seems like everyone’s having parties ’cepten me and Bear, here.” He pointed with the spatula. “I’m thinking about having Gina get her sister to baby sit and meet me in Vegas.”
“That’d be a great idea. Why don’t you?” Dee said, on her way to the RV. “I’d love to meet her.”
Tyler pushed speed dial and got Pauline’s voicemail. He dutifully left a message saying he was returning her call.
Bear stretched and executed a fierce yawn/fart combo.
Ricky-Bob flung three buckwheat pancakes onto a paper plate. “Help yourself, Ty. That is, after you pay me.”
Tyler dug into his wallet and drew out several fresh bills. He’d spent a good portion of his own pay on the hotel room, but wasn’t about to complain. Dee had made him feel more like a man than he’d felt in a long time. Once she’d loosened up, she reacted to his touch like she’d been deprived for years. Come to think of it, he’d been without truly great sex for what seemed like forever.
He forced himself to think less about Dee and more about paying his band before the beginnings of yet another erection took hold.
“Bear, I’m giving you half as much as usual. That’ll pay off your brawl debt.” He handed him three bills. Bear snatched it like it might disappear if he didn’t act fast enough.
Ricky-Bob tucked his into his shirt pocket. Tyler knew he’d keep a hundred for himself and send the rest home to Gina and the kids. He respected him for it, too.
Feeling satisfied after making payroll, Tyler sat down to eat. “Dee?” he called. “You want some pancakes?”
****
D’Anne shivered when she looked at herself in the mirror. What was different? She seemed softer, felt somehow freed. Hell, it was probably from fatigue. Nope, not much sleep action last night. Oh, but what a great reason.
Knowing the difference between love and desire, she had a healthy case of lust for Tyler White. D’Anne forced herself to look back into the mirror. She studied her forty-six-year-old face, searching for her soul.
Her heart clutched with guilt. Reese, I think I’m moving on. If she were honest, she’d admit she’d moved on years ago, but had never acted on it. She and Reese had reached a plateau of comfort and familiarity. They’d never been able to get the old excitement back. But she had loved him. Certainly, she loved him, and that would never change. Her husband of twenty-five years and the father of her kids, of course she loved him.
She glanced at herself again and looked quickly away. What was she supposed to do now? Deprive herself in honor of Reese’s memory, like she’d done with so many other things when he was alive? No. Like a benevolent queen, she agreed to let herself experience que sera, sera for the rest of the journey home.
“Sure,” she called out, “I’ll take a couple of pancakes.”
****
Odessa was a four-hour drive south on the US 62 to US 385. West Texas was more what D’Anne had expected when she’d heard back in Nashville they were traveling to the Lone Star State. Tumbleweeds and oilrigs adorned the vast, dry flat land, painting a true Texas vista.
Tyler drove the RV in contented concentration. D’Anne enjoyed being a passenger for the day. She dozed when she wanted, snuck peeks at Tyler’s handsome face when she felt like it, and used the bathroom without having to pull off the road. The only time she took the wheel was when Tyler got a cell phone call or needed a bathroom break.
Ricky-Bob and Bear were physically in the RV but had seemed to run out of conversation. Dexter curled up on a small rug in front of the kitchen sink, twitching and dreaming away. J.T. and his latest flame followed behind in her ancient and battered Mustang, quite possibly the ugliest car D’Anne had ever seen.
And man, was it hot outside. Waves of heat rose off the asphalt road before them. D’Anne was thankful for the top-of-the-line air conditioning in her motor home. She was also glad the annoying rattle sound had been resolved. She glanced at the doggie backpack resting on the floor, stuffed to its ears with cash, and smiled.
Her head turned toward Tyler. He grinned at her and winked. It sent a little thrill through her. She wondered how they’d work out the sleeping arrangements for the rest of the road trip.
“Odessa’s a Russian name.” Professor Bear stepped back on the job. “Bet you didn’t know the Russian railroad workers settled here and named it after some Ukraine city.”
“No.” D’Anne made a playful help me look at Tyler before turning to face Bear. “I didn’t know that.”
“This here Permian Basin is filled with oil-bearing rocks,” he said, pointing out the huge cabin window. “And ten or so miles outside of town there’s the sixth largest meteor crater in the world.”
“Where do you get all this info, Bear?” D’Anne asked, feigning interest.
“I’m a student of life, Dee.” Bear stroked his straggly beard like a Kung Fu master. She expected him to
call her little grasshopper or butterfly or some such thing.
“Yes, you certainly are and I’m reaping the benefits,” she said to Bear, with a shrug toward Tyler who kept grinning at her as if she was the prettiest girl in town. D’Anne liked that.
A bit later, they approached the skyline of a mid-sized city. The sign read Odessa, Population 100,807.
****
The annual Permian Basin Fair and Exposition was set to kick off in Odessa with live entertainment, that being The Tyler White Band, Sunday evening. Tyler, thanks to mysterious connections, had made reservations for both Saturday and Sunday nights at a private campground-slash-trailer park in a rundown part of town.
As they drove up to their assigned trailer space, an older lady in a faded cotton housedress approached. Tyler made an announcement when he emerged from the RV.
“Everyone, I want you to meet my mother, Lura Mae White.” He made a tender smile, swept down and gathered her into his arms, gave her a squeeze and a kiss. The look of a mother’s love was clear from her eyes. D’Anne felt her heart melt a little more.
“Momma, this here’s Dee.” He turned toward her and held out his hand. She took it and he brought the women together. “I want both my best girls to meet each other.”
D’Anne couldn’t figure who was feeling shyer, she or Lura Mae. Tyler forced them into an awkward hug with gentle hands. She looked down into the old woman’s eyes and smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, darlin’.” Tyler introduced the rest of them.
“Now, y’all come inside and have some lemonade, hear?” Mrs. White said.
She led them on a gravel path to a neatly kept, old and faded trailer home. Inside was a mini shrine to her once famous son. Pictures of Tyler in every stage of development lined tables and walls. D’Anne’s eyes flew from one to the next, adding up Tyler’s total existence in a few short seconds. All broad shoulders and boots, there stood Tyler in a western suit taking his wedding vows. The pretty little thing next to him looked up in adoration. Tyler sitting between his sisters, tow-headed and big smiles, when they were preteens. Gangly, uneven features were waiting to turn into a handsome face down the road. Another photo showed a much younger Tyler accepting some type of award with a country band behind him. As a boy wearing a shirt with fringe and fancy cowboy boots, he held a guitar almost as big as he was. His senior high picture. His college graduation, cap and gown photograph. In black at his father’s funeral a couple years back.
One for the Road Page 15
