by Lynn Stevens
“Hey,” Gracin said, dragging me out of my thoughts. I smiled and turned around. He’d just finished a sound check and walked toward me from the stage. “What’s on your mind?”
I sighed and tossed my hands to my sides, evoking the diva I teased him to be. Well with a Southern accent added in. “This weather is gonna kill me one day, Mr. Ford.” I raised my right arm dramatically, resting the wrist over my forehead. “I just can’t take so much heat.”
Gracin’s fingers laced through mine, and he tugged my arm away from my face. “You really talking about the weather, or some other heat that’s got you all bothered?”
Leaning away, I gave him my best offended glare. “Sir, you cannot mean what I think you mean. A true gentleman never speaks of such things in the presence of a lady.”
Gracin raised his eyebrows and bent to kiss the back of my hand. “Forgive me, Miss Reynolds, for being so bold. I had no idea I was in the presence of a lady.”
The laughter built in my chest and rolled up my throat. Gracin pulled me against him and pressed his lips against my ear, silencing my giggles. “Oh,” I breathed.
“I like that you’re not a lady, Carly.” He moved his lips along my jaw. “I like that you’re a smartass.” His lips trailed around my chin and up the other side of my jaw line. “I like that you don’t put up with my shit.” He nibbled my earlobe, causing a moan to build deep in my chest. “I like the way you make me … I’m a real person to you and not some dressed up shell dancing on a stage.”
Gracin pulled away and stared into my eyes. I grabbed his face and yanked it down to meet mine, showing him with my lips how much his words meant to me. God, if only what he said would be enough for us to try. I let go and stepped back. These thoughts of more, of being together after I left, needed to go. I couldn’t handle falling for this guy.
The same fear reflected in his eyes.
“Gracin … I …” lo—. No, I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t feel that. It wasn’t going to work between us, so dragging the L word into the equation would only make the shit splatter farther once it hit the fan. I opted to do the next best thing, deflect away from love and to sex. “We should probably finish this conversation somewhere else.”
“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” Gloria stepped out from behind a curtain. By the smirk on her face, she’d been there the entire time. She sashayed the two steps, using more swing in her hips than a metronome. “After all, I doubt the star of the show and the theater owner’s daughter could be stopped by little old me.”
I had never liked Gloria to begin with, but the sheer joy in her glitter-covered eyes made me want to show her the meaning of the phrase “chick fight.”
“What do you want, Gloria?” Gracin asked calmly.
“Nothing you have to offer.” Her eyes trailed up and down his body. Gloria spun on her heel and sashayed down the hall.
“Well, that kinda killed the mood,” Gracin said. He turned and walked briskly toward his dressing room.
“Ya think?” I had to practically run to keep up with his pace. “What’s she playing at?”
“Probably nothing, Carly.” He stopped outside his dressing room, and I slammed into his back. Without facing me, he said, “Either way, I don’t trust her.”
We went into his dressing room and began our usual routine. Gracin closed his eyes and began his pre-show meditation. I gathered his first wardrobe change as quietly as possible. My brain shifted into overdrive. I couldn’t stop thinking about how careless we’d been. It was stupid, really, to even keep our relationship so quiet, but it was also easier. Even if Gloria ratted us out, it wasn’t that big of a deal. We’d survive. Until I left for Nashville anyway.
∞ ∞ ∞
I left backstage during Gracin’s encores. All this time I’d only seen the back of his performance and the front of the crowd. He fed off the energy of the people in the seats. Especially the screaming girls. What warm-blooded American guy wouldn’t love hundreds of girls screaming his name night after night? One of the security peeps let me sneak into an aisle by the wall. Gracin returned to the stage and scanned the crowd. The chances he’d see me were a gazillion to one, but his gaze lingered toward my general direction. My heart played hopscotch on my ribs.
If I’d thought his magnetism was intense backstage, it was ten times that strength in the crowd. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Each sway of his hips hypnotized me. Every note in a song I usually thought sucked made my knees weak. And every time his eyes swept over my section in the crowd, it was as if he was staring at me and me alone. No wonder Gracin had been so successful. He was like a fire and the crowd his moths. Touch him and we’d burn.
I slipped backstage before the second encore ended and waited for him in my usual spot. He gave me an odd look when he ran offstage, but he didn’t say anything. We strode to his dressing room like every other night. As soon as I closed the door, I grabbed his arm and whipped him around to face me.
“Wha –”
I crushed my lips to his, smothering his questions and relieving a bit of the tension built from watching him perform. Not like Gracin fought it. He pushed me against the door, lifting me off the floor until my legs wrapped around his waist.
“I don’t know what that was for, but I liked it,” Gracin said once we came up for air.
“Just keeping you on your toes.” I nipped at his lower lip.
He set me back on my feet and backed toward his normal perch. “Uh-huh. Sure, it was.”
I raised my eyebrows, pausing longer than initially intended. “Okay, fine. I went into the audience for the encores.”
He nodded and rolled his hand in a circle for me to keep going.
“It was … not full of suck.” Admitting that was not the worst thing I’d ever done, but it wasn’t the easiest either. Especially since I’d bashed the show before.
Gracin’s mouth tightened into a thin line as he nodded. A slight flush warmed my cheeks. Not my proudest moment.
“‘Not full of suck.’ That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about my show, Carly.” He rested his head on his hand, a finger pointing north over his chin and through those perfect lips. “Are you running a fever?”
“Bite me, Gracin.”
He crooked that same finger, motioning me forward. “I’d love to.”
My feet moved without my consent. Why was it whenever I was around Gracin Ford my body belonged to his mind? Whatever he wished for, I reacted on command. As soon as I was in grabbing distance, Gracin wrapped his arm around me and pulled me onto his lap.
“Now, explain,” he ordered. “Or I’m not putting out tonight.”
“Not likely. You’re easier than a childproof bottle.”
Gracin’s hand slid up my thigh, squeezing gently. “I can also torture you until you break. That might be fun.”
I opened my mouth then shut it. Some things were better left to the imagination. Or the experience. I wasn’t entirely sure which one sounded better at that point.
“Well?” he prodded.
“Fine.” I gathered my thoughts, trying to make this as minimally ego boosting as possible. “Even though I still don’t like the songs, the energy of the crowd was amazing. I saw how you fed off it. And how they fed off you.” I shook my head to unscramble the thoughts again. “You’re like a magician up there, hypnotizing the crowd and making each one of them feel like you’re singing to them and only them. Even though you couldn’t see me, I … it was like you sang directly to me.” The last words came out on the rush of the end of my breath.
“Carly,” Gracin leaned back and stared into my eyes. “Every night I sing directly to you.”
My entire body swelled with the emotion filling me, like I weighed nothing and everything all at once. Gracin lifted a hand to my face, brushing the tips of his fingers along my cheek. His eyes darted over my face as if he was memorizing every detail. At least that’s what I wanted to believe he was doing, because it was exactly what I was doing to him. I never wante
d to forget this moment.
I leaned toward him, slowly. Gracin’s hand slid behind my head and his fingers tangled with my hair. Gently he pushed me closer. When our lips melded together, it wasn’t the simple explosion of the moment. There was so much more going on. A savoring, a connection, a bond, and a commitment. That was all in one sweet kiss. I needed all of it and more. I needed him to love me. No matter how many times I told myself I couldn’t fall for Gracin, with that one kiss, I knew beyond a shadow of doubt I had. Admitting it was one thing, dealing with it another. Adding to the knowledge was the inkling Gracin felt the same way about me.
We’d totally screwed the pooch.
But I wouldn’t change any of it, even though the clock ticked away.
∞ ∞ ∞
“Sit.” Gracin pointed at a specific chair at his table.
I sat in a different chair just because. Gracin shook his head and turned toward the fridge. He pulled the door open, sticking his head inside. I waited while he rummaged through the contents, most of which I’d bought and stored in there. My organizational skills were the stuff of legend. I knew exactly what and where everything was in his fridge. Something told me I’d be reorganizing it before the night was through.
“What’re you doing?” I asked when curiosity got the best of me. It only took three-point-two seconds. Pretty long time for me.
Gracin’s head popped up over the door that barely hid his grin. “You really want to know?”
“Duh.” I rolled my eyes as dramatically as possible. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“Uh-huh.” He ducked back behind the door without answering.
Half a second later, he backed up and closed the door with his foot. His arms were loaded with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and a few other things I couldn’t quite see. A green plastic bag hung from his mouth. Gracin smiled with a mischievous glint flashing gold in his eyes. I laughed as I stood. He opened his mouth and let the bag fall on top of the rest of his bounty.
“Sit,” he ordered with a nod toward the chair.
“Seriously? You’re making me a salad?” My brain said this deserved another eye roll while my heart turned into a pinball inside my chest.
“Yes, seriously.” He strode two steps to the counter. Everything tumbled from his arms, a tomato almost making a successful escape to the sink. Gracin pulled the cutting board from the cabinets and a knife from the block. “Is it a bad thing to make you dinner?”
His voice strained even though he tried to keep the mood light. Something about this entire thing was significant. No way I’d take it away. Besides, it’d be nice for someone to do something for me. Other than Nena and Ivy, I was pretty much left to my own devices. None of the guys I’d dated ever made me dinner or held my door or just let me cry when I needed to.
I leaned back in my chair and put my hands behind head. “A bad thing? Not even close. I think it’s a very good thing. Now,” —I made a whip-cracking noise— “get to work.”
Gracin glanced over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to mess with a man with a knife?”
“Nah, Mom’s advice was more encompassing. ‘Don’t mess with men.’” I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Funny she ever got married.”
Shaking his head, Gracin turned back to his veggies. I couldn’t see what he was doing exactly, but it didn’t take a PhD in physics to figure it out. The knife smacked against the plastic cutting board with expert precision. Through his thin t-shirt, I watched his shoulders tense and relax with each movement. It was intoxicating.
“I …” My throat went dry without warning. God, the effect Gracin had on me. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I didn’t know you liked to cook.”
Gracin didn’t turn around as he shrugged and kept cutting. “It’s one of those things I enjoy but don’t do enough. Back in L.A., it was always grab food when you can and wherever you can. Dad always had me on the go to one audition or another recording or an appearance. Once I went into rehab, things changed. I had to slow down.” A quiet sigh slipped out. “I started to do things for myself while I was in there. Sometimes …” His voice softened and his shoulders fell. The knife clanked against the marble counter as Gracin dropped it to press his hands into the counter. “Sometimes I wish I’d never left.”
I didn’t think as I stood and walked around the table. He stiffened as my arms slid around his waist and my cheek pressed into back. I held him until he relaxed and put his hands over mine. We stood together for several minutes, neither one saying a word. There wasn’t anything to say. Even though I’d never been in the same position as he was, I understood what he meant. Living in darkness was hard. Knowing there was an escape even harder when you didn’t know how to get out. Gracin captured a bit of freedom in rehab he’d never had before.
“It was hard at first. I’d been going non-stop since I was ten.” He rubbed his hands over mine. “It only got worse after I joined the band. Even after Jay left, Dad tried to hold the rest of us together, but nobody was interested in Accentuate without Jay.” He shook his head. “Anyway, that’s in the past where it needs to stay.”
“What was it like?” I didn’t really want to prod or open old wounds, but I didn’t want to miss this chance to know him a little better. “Touring stadiums when you were only twelve?”
Gracin snorted. “It was exhilarating, exhausting, and sometimes I hated it as much as I loved it. I spent the second half of our world tour drunk. That’s when I started drinking. It was a wonder I got through the shows at all. By the time I was fourteen, I was already an alcoholic. I can’t get those years back.” He tensed again for a few minutes, controlling his breathing until his muscles relaxed. “Sorry, it’s not something I like talking about these days.”
I cringed as the next words came out of my mouth. “If they got Accentuate back together, would you join them?”
“No.” He tensed again but didn’t wait to calm down before elaborating. “I never want to be in that poisonous environment again.”
Which was exactly what his father had planned. Gracin didn’t need Accentuate.
I kissed his shoulder and squeezed him tighter. The price of fame wasn’t worth what Gracin had gone through. I wanted to ask him what he’d do if he hit it big on his own. Would he succumb to the pressures then? Fall off the wagon? I wanted to believe he wouldn’t. We stood together long enough for the lettuce to reach room temperature.
“Anyway, whenever I get the time, I make salads. It’s all I can really ‘cook,’ but I enjoy it.” He patted my hands and I let go.
Moving back to my chair, I asked, “Why not learn how to cook more?”
“Besides the raw food diet that keeps this body finely tuned?” Playful Gracin reemerged and tore the lettuce into tiny bites.
“You never told me why the raw food diet, either.” I pulled my knee up to my chest. This bothered me more than I cared to admit. Food should be cooked. Preferably in butter with lots of cheese. I’d eat anything with butter and cheese. And bacon.
“My counselor introduced me to the idea. He’d actually prescribed it for me as a way to detox.” Gracin turned with two salads sans dressing. He slid one in front of me and set the other on the table before turning back toward the fridge. “I stuck with it once I left. I feel better when I don’t eat processed foods.” He sat down with two bottles of water. “I have more energy.”
I shoved a forkful of lettuce into my mouth with a small cherry tomato. The juices exploded on my tongue. Who needed salad dressing when tomatoes were in season?
“Haven’t you had more energy?” he asked before shoving a cucumber into his mouth.
Guilt weighed me down, but only a little. I never agreed to go vegan or raw food. “Um … I guess.”
Gracin’s fork stopped midway to his mouth.
“I don’t stick to your diet.” My voice raised half an octave as each defense wall raised around me.
“I didn’t think you did.�
� His mouth quirked into a half grin. “But for the most part you have.”
I popped another cherry tomato into my mouth instead of answering. He was right. Without thinking about it, I ate the same crap he did when we were together. Honestly, it didn’t bother me. It was easier to go with the flow and whatnot.
“You never had to do that.” Gracin let his fork drop against the bowl. The metal on ceramic rang in my ears. His hand touched the bare skin on my knee. “But I appreciate it.”
The salad, the conversation was forgotten the minute he touched my knee. I set my fork down without the annoying sound and slid onto his lap.
“Maybe we should test your energy reserves,” I whispered against his lips.
Gracin kissed me. That was all the answer I needed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Fourth of July loomed in front of us. The weekend would be packed with the usual weekend crowds, plus the additional tourists who came just to see the fireworks over the water. It was pretty spectacular. Unfortunately, the holiday also brought Albert Ford back to Branson. Gracin went from relaxed to twenty-four-hour tense. Our time slipped away from us.
It helped that Gloria was gone. She hadn’t bothered to call Dad or Luke; she just disappeared. Mita, the other dancer, said Gloria had often talked about going to Vegas. Maybe that’s where she went. Whatever, she was gone and I was not one bit upset about it.
The afternoon before the holiday, Gracin and I finally had a minute to ourselves. Rehearsals had started again to get the newest dancer up with the routine of the show. I felt bad for her, until I saw her dance. She picked up on each move and took over Gloria’s role seamlessly. Gracin stepped backstage during a brief break to grab the bottle of water I had for him. Nobody else was within earshot or eyesight of us. Just to be safe, Gracin tugged me closer to the curtain and didn’t wait another second before covering my lips with his.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered once he came up for air. “Things can get back to normal Monday, I promise.”
