Home

by Melissa Pearl

  With shaky hands, Billy pulled out a few bills and dropped them onto the table, glaring at his friends to do the same.

  Roy leaned against the wall by the window, looking sick and dazed and shooting me a dark glare before turning for the door. I crossed my arms over my chest as he stumbled. Billy caught him near the door and they left together, two swaying trees ready to collapse.

  A quick murmur started up the second they’d left and Josh turned to me. His gruff expression was nowhere to be seen as he took the tray from my hand, placing it on the table before gently tipping my chin.

  “You all right?” He had his honeyed voice on, the one he only used with me.

  I touched his cheek and smiled, my hand small on his chiseled face. “You know what I love most about you? You look like a big grizzly bear, but you’re just a soft marshmallow on the inside, ain’t ya.”

  “Only with you, sugar lips.” He pulled me into his arms, lifting me off the floor and stealing my breath with a solid kiss. Cheers and whistles filled the quiet space, bringing the hum back into the bar with a rush.

  I tipped my head back with a laugh, planting one more juicy kiss on his lips before he let me go. My boots slapped back down on the wood floor and all eyes were still on us.

  Realization dawned over Josh’s face and his ears turned red. He hated being the center of attention. Now that the judge and jury had left, I didn’t mind one bit.

  “How about I play y’all a song!” I raised my hand as a second round of cheers rose up around the room.

  With a laugh, I skipped over to the stage and grabbed up the electric guitar that I’d been messing around on that afternoon. I preferred my acoustic, but that was upstairs by the bed.

  Swinging the strap over my shoulder, I then flicked on the amp and adjusted the mic so I could stand and play.

  “I’d like to dedicate this song to Roy McGarrett.”

  Brock booed real loud, making Josh laugh as he sauntered back around to his safe place behind the bar.

  I leaned into the mic and tipped my head. “I don’t care how drunk that man gets, he needs to keep his hands to himself!”

  A chorus of cheers and whistles erupted as I started strumming “Keep Your Hands To Yourself.”

  Chapter Two

  Josh

  Watching Rachel play always filled me with a sense of awe. She sure knew how to capture a crowd. All eyes were fixed on her. Even Trudy and Lucas stopped playing darts for a minute to watch. Her voice permeated the room, sounding sweet, yet wild, just Rachel’s style. Her small fingers danced over the strings as she played the guitar solo, a few drinkers cheering and whooping as she really got into it. Her rowdy, blond curls were like an entity of their own, bouncing around her face and tapping her on the back when she stepped up to the mic and started singing again.

  By the end of the song, she had the entire bar singing the main line, hollering and cheering as she flipped a metaphorical bird at Roy. She wasn’t the only girl in Payton who’d had to endure that pervert’s insufferable hands. His poor wife. I didn’t know why the hell she stayed with him.

  Rachel finished the song with a final strum, and applause thundered throughout the open space. The smile on her face was like a neon light. That girl sure loved the stage. She was usually too busy working to play and in all honesty, I needed her back on the floor quick smart, but I just couldn’t take the moment away from her.

  Her eyes darted to mine, dancing with the look of sheer pleasure she got whenever she was performing. It really bothered me sometimes that all I could give her was a waitressing job and the odd stint of singing on quiet nights. She deserved so much more. She was the most talented eighteen-year-old I knew…and she was all mine. Sure, she was saving to leave and all, but I couldn’t talk about that, so I just held her at night and cherished every minute I got to be near her.

  “Three more beers for table ten, Grizz.” Harriet smacked her tray down on the counter.

  “Coming right up.”

  “And you might want to get your girl off the stage before she starts another, ’cause this place needs us both tonight.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I mumbled.

  She snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes. “You know, you could always hire someone else and she could sing all the time.”

  “I can’t afford to do that.” I placed the first beer down and grabbed a clean glass to pull the second.

  Harriet’s head tipped to the side, an old smile resting on her lips. “Your uncle was real nervous about giving you this place. It took a lot of convincing to get him to leave and go see the world like he wanted to. He was worried with you being so young and all.”

  “Come on now, Harry. I turned twenty-two last month.” I winked at the fifty-year-old waitress and she flicked her hand to shush me.

  “What I’m trying to say, Joshua Clark, is that he didn’t need to worry about a thing. You’ve given him this amazing opportunity by doing a fine job. He’s away, free from his troubles, and that’s because of you.” She tapped the counter then pointed at me. “And if my man stood up for me the way you stood up for Rachel tonight, he’d be getting laid right now.”

  My ears started burning, and I’m sure Harriet noticed, because she burst out laughing.

  “You sweet kid,” she murmured, sliding the tray off the counter and heading for table ten.

  I rested my palms on the bar and watched her walk away, grateful for her compliment. Uncle Amos had handed over the key to his bar on my twenty-first birthday. I hadn’t been expecting it and felt way out of my depth, but he’d stuck around for a year, teaching me everything I needed to know. Truth be told, I actually knew it all already. I’d been raised in the place and had been pulling beers since I was fourteen. Still, when Uncle Amos left for his big adventure, I was like a lost kid for the first few months.

  I found my feet soon enough and a year later, I thought of Clark’s as mine. Uncle Amos still checked in every week. He owned forty percent of this place, and after investing a lifetime into it, he wasn’t about to let it go completely. We used my inheritance to buy in sixty percent, so the bar was officially mine. I couldn’t help a touch of pride over that.

  I owned Clark’s Bar.

  A smile grew on my lips. Damn, it felt good. It was home for me, and I couldn’t imagine being anyplace else. I glanced up as Rachel jumped down from the stage, her petite hips swaying in that sexy little skirt. I didn’t like her wearing it on busy nights. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the skirt. I just didn’t like the way every pervert in the place eyed up her sleek little legs when she was wearing it.

  My eyes traveled up her tight frame, from those worn-out boots to the way her plaid shirt was knotted just above her belly button. Put a Stetson on top of that mass of curls and she was an all-American cowgirl. I grinned as she leaned against the counter.

  “Table three wants a bowl of curly fries and two beers.”

  I spun and shouted the order into the kitchen before grabbing two fresh glasses. Rachel blew me a kiss as she took the tray and sauntered over to table three. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she delivered the drinks, my mind traveling back to the skinny little wretch I found huddled in the back doorway, hugging a guitar case.

  The rain had been pelting down for days. I was well over it, and my poor dog Duke was going stir-crazy being locked up inside. His barking riled Uncle Amos something fierce.

  “Josh, shut that dog up or I’m kicking him outside!” he hollered at me from the kitchen.

  I’d clomped after my bloodhound, ready to tell him off, but when I found him with his nose pressed against the bottom of the door, I knew his barking wasn’t for nothing.

  “What is it, boy?” I scratched the top of his head, the folds of skin soft beneath my fingers. He whined and started scratching at the concrete floor. “Something out there?”

  I creaked open the door, my eyes bulging wide at the last thing I expected to see.

  A girl with skin like a ghost’s was huddled in the narrow
doorframe, obviously trying to shelter from the rain. It hadn’t helped none. Her clothes were sodden rags, her spiral curls a tatty mess on her head. Her slender fingers clutched a worn-out guitar case like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

  “Hey, you okay?” I crouched down to check on her, shaking her shoulder and repeating my question.

  She didn’t respond. Her eyes were closed and her pasty white skin was freezing to the touch.

  “Hey!” I shook her again, scrambling to find a pulse. I was struggling to get my angles right and went to move her guitar case so I could get better access to her. That’s when she flinched, mumbling something in her sleep and wrapping her arms even tighter around the case.

  “Thank God,” I muttered before turning back into the bar and shouting, “Uncle Amos, you better come quick.”

  My urgent voice had him running to my side. He peered over my shoulder and his eyes popped wide.

  “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, this is unexpected.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Can you just call Doc, please?”

  Uncle Amos nodded, turning for the phone while I gently wrestled the guitar out of her hands. She whimpered some, but was too weak to really fight me. I laid it down with extra care, figuring it meant more to her than I understood, before tucking my arms beneath her. She felt like a fragile bird in my arms.

  Duke danced around my feet as I carried her through the bar and up the stairs to my room. His claws scratched on the wood as he followed me. I laid her down on my covers, her head sinking into my plump pillow. Her face still felt like ice as I brushed the back of my fingers down her delicate cheek. She was a small thing—skin and bone really, but there was beauty to her.

  Duke muscled past my leg, his wet nose sniffing her out. He looked up at me with his big eyes and whined.

  “I know, boy. We’re gonna take care of her, don’t you worry.”

  I rubbed his head before reaching for her shirt with slightly shaking hands. I sure hoped she didn’t mind me stripping off her clothes, but we needed to get her warm. Lifting her against me, I slid her jacket off then wrestled the damp cotton shirt over her head. I left her bra on, because that was the decent thing to do, before working off her pants and sliding that freezing body beneath my covers.

  I spent the next hour rubbing her limbs and laying my hand on her forehead while I anxiously waited for Doc. She drifted in and out of consciousness, never opening her eyes but sometimes muttering delirious ramblings I couldn’t understand. Time ticked by in slow motion, and I don’t know what it was, but with each passing minute, the overpowering need to keep her safe grew stronger.

  I sometimes wonder if maybe I’d fallen in love with her that day…or maybe it was the day she smiled for the first time…or the second I heard her carefree laughter, that time when she teased me with that flirty wink of hers. Or it could have been the time I watched her from the doorway while she tuned her precious guitar, bathed in sunlight and looking like an angel when she started singing a soft tune for her mama.

  Whenever it was or however it happened, I was gone for Rachel Myers. She was mine and I was hers, and if I could have my way, we’d stay like that for the rest of eternity.

  Chapter Three

  Josh

  The bar emptied out by two, which was standard for a weekend night. I was looking forward to sleeping past the sunrise. In fact, I was hoping Rachel and I would stay in bed until noon. I wiped down the bar and headed into the kitchen to make sure it was clean. Denny, my main chef, was a real good worker, and he started clean-up at midnight when the kitchen officially closed. I checked the back door, knowing he’d probably already locked it anyway. He had. I chuckled at myself, grateful I had such a good team working for me. When Uncle Amos left for his travels, I was worried I’d lose some staff, but they all stuck around, their loyalty to Clark’s unwavering. Crouching down by the back door, I scratched behind Duke’s ears. He was dead to the world, his dream-like snuffles making me chuckle. He usually woke near closing, but he looked pretty comfy on his big pillow, and I decided to leave him be.

  Pausing on my way back to the kitchen, a smile grew on my lips as I heard the faint strum of a guitar.

  As per usual, Rachel had gotten distracted from her chair stacking, the lure of her beloved instrument being too much for her. Her strum was fast tonight, the words popping out of her mouth harsh and emphatic. My brow wrinkled as I stepped toward the door and heard:

  What I’d like to do now is throw you to the ground and kick you in the ass

  You deserve much more for calling me a whore

  But my mama taught me better than that

  Walking ’round here with your big boots on thinkin’ so great, all that

  But the truth be told, you’re a low-down toad

  But you won’t hear me say that, ’cause I’m a little lady

  And my mama taught me better than that

  You’re so lucky, my mama taught better than that

  For all that teaching what did I learn?

  That sometimes in life you’re gonna get burned

  So I’ll keep my head up high and look you in the eye

  ’Cause my mama taught me better than that

  Whoa yeah, Mama taught better than that

  I couldn’t help a chuckle. I loved it when she wrote her own songs. Stepping back into the bar, I was about to tell her, when she spotted me. Her eyes rounded and she slapped her hand against the guitar, sealing her lips up tight. Rising from her stool, she placed the instrument down and jumped off the stage.

  “Come on, baby, play some more for me.”

  Her head shook the way it always did when I caught her composing. “I was just messing around.”

  “You know, people might like what you have to sing.”

  The curls rustled over her back as she shook her head again. “I can belt out a tune, but I ain’t showing them my soul like that.”

  I walked toward her, gently cupping her face as soon as she was within reach. “You shouldn’t be afraid, Rachel. Your soul is beautiful, and the world deserves to see it.”

  Her soft lips rose into a smile. “You think the world will?”

  I hated that question, because I didn’t ever want her to leave me. She was my morning star, my constant, and I’d had too many others leave me in the past. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her…but I couldn’t say that. I didn’t want to see the hope in her eyes fade. I wanted to keep pretending like I was the encouraging boyfriend.

  “One day, baby.”

  It was easy to say it…to live the lie…because I didn’t know if she’d ever make it to the big stage like she wanted to. It seemed an impossible dream, and therefore it was easy to support it. I felt a little bad about that sometimes. I didn’t want to be a liar, but we lived in a town of less than a thousand people in the middle of America. Payton was barely on the map. She wasn’t going to make the big time from this little town. I just couldn’t ever see it happening, and a big part of me took comfort in that, while a small part simmered with guilt, knowing that I was helping her keep up the charade.

  My quiet words made her smile grow, and she slapped her hands onto my shoulders, jumping up and wrapping her legs around my waist. I held her tight little behind and relished her tongue sliding into my mouth. Her hot breath tickled my insides, making my downstairs spasm with pleasure. I gripped her a little tighter, deepening the kiss so she knew I wanted some.

  “Can we go upstairs now?” she puffed into my mouth.

  It was an effort not to yell yes, but if I wanted my sleep-in, I needed to clean up the bar first. “We just need to finish sweeping and lock up.”

  “Okay.” Her legs dropped and she slid down my body. Her grin was wicked as she skipped over to the door and flicked all the bolts shut. I went back to the kitchen and snatched out the broom while Rachel stacked the last of the chairs. But before I could get properly sweeping, she grabbed the handle and pulled it out of my hands.

  “I’ll sweep
, you play.” She flicked her head toward the piano, and I knew what she was doing.

  I always liked to finish my night with a little piano time. There was something soothing about the white keys beneath my fingers and the rich sound that floated into the room. Rachel loved it, too. She thought me playing was sexy, and I just had to oblige her every time.

  “What should I play, baby?” I nestled onto the bench and rested my right foot on the pedal.

  “Play my song.” She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the floor as she started sweeping.

  So that’s what I did.

  Chapter Four

  Rachel

  I didn’t know why I asked him to play my song. I guess I loved his voice when he sang it. I gripped the handle of the broom as “Picture Postcards From L.A.” filtered into the air. I remembered the first time I heard him playing it and the smile on his face as the words oozed out of his mouth. He was singing just for me…and it was my song.

  A small-town waitress wanting to make it to the big time. That was me!

  So that’s why I loved it, but then I also hated it, because the song talked about how she never actually left. She never made it to LA, because something always made her stay.

  I wanted Josh to be my reason…like in the song. It’d be romantic and sweet, and if I was honest, he kind of was a reason, but he wasn’t the only thing keeping me in Payton.

  It took a fair whack of soul-searching for me to figure it out, and if anyone asked me, I wouldn’t admit it, but I think maybe I was scared. So, I kept telling everyone I hadn’t saved enough yet. I hadn’t really. I mean, I had enough for a bus ticket to LA, but then what? I didn’t even know where to begin fulfilling my promise to Mama. I’d be a lost kid in a big city with nothing but the clothes on my back and an old guitar. I didn’t know if I was ready for that feeling again…and so I stayed.