by Taylor Hart
The guy named Jared grinned at her like a stupid junior high boy. “I heard about Brett,” he said, and his smile faltered as he rubbed his lips together in distaste.
At the mention of her ex, Tiffany’s face sobered. Tugging back, she removed Jared’s arms and rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about Brett. Let’s see the stage.”
Jared got intense. “Hey, I respect the fact you want to wait until marriage. All of us did. We told Brett he was a complete fool.”
Tiffany stilled. Then her eyes hardened. “Let’s see the stage.”
Sam could tell that Jared felt caught. His cheeks flushed red, and then he shook his head. “Okay.” Finally Jared flashed a look to Sam. He gave him one of those looks that told Sam he recognized him, but he didn’t know from where yet. “Hey.”
Sam followed them to the other side of the room where there was a little stage. He knew it was unreasonable, but he was pretty sure he hated this dude. “Hey.”
Jared gestured to the stage. “We’re going to add some more stage floor, so you’ll have more room for some guitarists and stuff—”
“I don’t have anyone else.”
Jared paused, frowning. “What?”
Tiffany moved over to the microphone and checked out the equipment. “The band was Brett’s. It’s just me.” Tiffany pulled the mic off and flipped a button, doing some tests for volume.
Jared moved closer to her. “We didn’t want a soloist tonight. It’s a weekend. The crowd wants a band.”
Tiffany gave him a confused smile. “Does it matter?”
Jared shoved away, moving back to the counter. “I need to go try to book someone else if you’re solo.”
“Wait,” Tiffany pleaded. “Look, I need this money, okay. I promise I’ll keep the crowd.”
Jared turned back, letting out a sigh. “Boss man would be mad. I wish I could, but the last soloist I had in here tanked—hard.”
Sam watched Tiffany pick up a strand of hair and twirl it in quick, nervous swirls. The swirling looked painful to him. “Dang it,” she said quietly and looked at the floor.
Sam couldn’t believe that he wanted to solve this problem for her. This was a girl he’d only met yesterday, but he did. More importantly, he could solve it. For a second, he wondered about the fact that he didn’t feel any of the nervousness or angst that he’d felt lately in regards to going out of his comfort zone. All he felt right now was the need to help her. “Uh, Jared,” he called out.
Jared paused mid-texting. “Yeah?” He looked annoyed, like Sam was interrupting him.
“Do you have an extra guitar or keyboard here?”
“What are you doing?” Tiffany asked.
Jared hesitated then put his phone away. “Yeah,” he said, moving to the back. “We do have an extra guitar back here, and I can call and have the hotel staff pull in a piano for us.” He frowned and looked back. “Do you play?”
Sam stared into Tiffany’s questioning blue eyes and smiled. “A little.”
* * *
The truth was that if Sam hadn’t been able go to the University of Miami on a football scholarship, he would have gone to Julliard on a music scholarship. He loved to sing, and he was good at it. However, what he really loved was to play the piano, guitar, and violin. His mother, before she’d passed when he was twelve, had told him once that his talent in life was to flood the earth with music. In the end though, he’d chosen football as his profession. He tried not to dwell on the choice. When he did, he wondered if his mother would have been disappointed by it. Granted, he was rusty. These days, he mostly just tinkered with the piano now and then, but he was still better than average.
Jared brought him a guitar, and Sam turned to Tiffany. “Go get yours, and let’s see what we know together.”
Complete doubt filled her face. “Really?”
Putting the strap over his shoulder, he grinned. “Hey, I might not be Brett, but I think I can handle one gig.”
Shaking her head back and forth, she let out a scoff. “All right.” She headed back to the truck to get her guitar.
He sat up on the stage next to the microphone, which he turned off. Softly, he went into a Bon Jovi song he knew by heart. He was a third of the way into the song and singing the lyrics softly when he heard her guitar match him and her voice join his.
Looking up, she met his eyes and grinned. She looked caught up in the moment and there was wonder on her face.
What she didn’t know was that the emotions he could easily read all over her face were the same ones he was experiencing in his heart.
He hadn’t jammed with anyone since he’d played with friends back in high school. Truth be told, he hardly thought about playing anymore since most of his life had been so focused on football. For a brief moment, he wondered why he hadn’t grabbed his guitar or sat at his piano during the recent and loneliest period of his life.
It felt good. It felt a lot better than the therapy he’d been forking over a grand per an hour for. Warmth filled his chest. He’d needed this more than he’d realized.
The song ended, and they both simply stared at one another with matching stupid grins on their faces. He shook his head and pulled the guitar off. “You’re good.”
Amazement swept into her eyes. “I’m good?” She let out a light laugh. “Sam Dumont seriously knows how to play Bon Jovi?” She sounded mystified. “Wait.” She put her hand on his guitar. “What else can you play?”
The heat rose onto his cheeks. He could feel it. “I don’t know much country, but I can kind of adjust to whatever song you’re playing. I had some friends in high school, and we messed around a lot.”
Reaching forward, she tugged out some sheet music. “Can you read music?”
Thinking off all the lessons from private tutors when he’d been younger, he grinned. “A bit.”
Pulling over a music stand, she set some sheets onto the thing and spread them all out.
He nodded to her. “Just start into a rhythm, and I’ll try to find my way.”
Pausing for a moment, she looked doubtful, but then the kind of smile that he’d only seen her give Maddy spread across her face. She pulled back on her guitar. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he confirmed.
Starting into a kind of alternative melody, he listened as she added her words: ‘and if you thought you broke my heart, you never really knew who I was. I should have known it from the start, you’ve always been wrong about me.’
He matched the rhythm but added a nice backbeat.
They played like that for a few minutes, and they both seemed to get lost. When he glanced at her, he saw tears in her eyes.
At the end of the song, Jared started clapping and let out a whistle. “Seriously, guys, is this the first time you’ve played together?”
Tiffany wiped beneath her eyes, but beamed at him. “Yep.”
Sam winked at her. “That was fun. Let’s play some more.”
Jared pointed at Sam. “Hey, whoa, dude…Wait a sec, are you that famous football player? The one that single-handedly destroyed the…Destroyers?” He let out a stupid laugh. “Get that…destroy the Destroyers?”
Glaring at Jared, Sam didn’t move. “Super funny.”
Tiffany let out a light laugh. “Wh-what?” She made an annoyed face and let out a sigh. “Seriously, Jared, you’ve been hitting the bottle a bit too much. This is my cousin from back East I haven’t seen for…” She hesitated.
“Like twenty years.” Sam filled in for her, playing along.
She grinned. “I guess it has been that long. We were like six or something.”
Jared scowled at both of them, seemingly not believing, but he turned, going back to the bar. “Yeah, uh-huh. A cousin.”
Tiffany gave him a conspiratorial look then reached out and took a cowboy hat off the back of her chair and plunked it onto Sam’s head. “There. I’m gonna turn you into a cowboy. We’ll make sure no one recognizes you.”
Sam gave her a mock smile. “Yee-ha
w.”
Tiffany hesitated, cocking her head to the side, and a slow smile lifted the side of her lips. “How come you’re doing this for me?”
Part of him almost felt frozen at this moment. She was beautiful. The way her blonde hair caressed her shoulders, the way she smiled, and the way the natural beauty of her skin was accentuated by her pink lips. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to taste the fruitiness of her lip-gloss, but he looked back to the guitar, tuning it and strumming it. “Because your mama mentioned Brett was a jerk, and I figured you could use tonight.” He shrugged. “So what the hey?” He said hey in a really redneck way, and she laughed.
“Well,” she said, leaning back and pumping her heeled feet back and forth, “We have about four hours. So let’s decide on about six-ten songs we can do.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, what if you did a solo for one? You have a great voice.”
“No.” He knew he could sing okay, but he’d never done it for a show.
“Yes!” Her eyes sparkled, and she grinned wider, tapping the hat on his head. “Totally yes.”
Butterflies erupted in his gut. He felt like he was about to throw the first down of the entire game. “This is your show.”
She kept smiling. “Okay.”
Her lips turned down, and the bottom one stuck out in a pout. “Fine.”
He strummed out a Garth Brooks song he knew.
Her face got excited when she recognized the song, and she started playing with him too. They played through the song smoothly.
At the end, she put her hand on his guitar to stop him.
He moved her hand and strummed into another eighties rock song.
“Ohmygosh.” She followed his lead and played through that song too.
He loved the fact they could lead one another or catch onto what the other was starting. At the same time, it bugged him, knowing this was most likely how it had been with Brett. He didn’t want to be Brett.
8
As Tiffany led the way out of the side door to MacCools that dumped them onto Washington Street, Sam realized this was the street for Ogden. There were signs everywhere explaining the history of this outlaw town and the fugitives it had harbored. There was a large park with an amphitheater and everyone from yuppies to homeless people. Once again, Sam thought about how much he liked being here.
“Good thing you’re keeping the hat on.” Tiffany looked him up and down. “No one will recognize your height, build, or boyish good-looks. Nope, no one will at all,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re completely incognito.”
He honed in on the one thing he liked that she’d said. “You think I have boyish good looks?” This made him extremely happy.
Giving him a ‘whatever’ look, she shook her head. “Did I say that? I meant you should take off your shirt and distract everyone from your horrifying face with your abs.” Her face was getting red.
This was even better. “You noticed my abs the other day?” He couldn’t stop smiling at the fact he was enjoying being with her so much.
She wagged a finger at him and looked completely flustered. “Only to avoid looking at your face.” He didn’t think her face could get any more red.
He let out a light laugh and rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be intimidated by my good looks, I’ll still be your groupie and follow you around when you’re famous, yelling for you and throwing my shirt at the stage.”
This got him a smile and a shove in the shoulder. “You’re kinda proud of those abs, aren’t you?”
He laughed. “C’mon, I could catapult your career into the spotlight like your mom said.” He pointed at her with severity. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you saying that you would prefer to have Roman launch your career.”
“I didn’t say I would prefer anything. I just…”
“What?”
“I just…” She trailed off. “You won’t get it.”
“I won’t get what?”
They walked for a few seconds, going past a bookstore and a coffee shop. She glanced up at him. “I just want to do it on my own.” She lifted a shoulder and then let it drop. “Brett never thought I was lead material.”
Anger seared his gut at this new information.
Her blue eyes blinked rapidly. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”
He stopped her by reaching for her forearm. “Tell me. What did Brett say?”
She looked even more embarrassed, but she held his gaze. “After he’d put together the band and we’d started playing, he just made it crystal clear I was lucky to be his back up.”
“That’s not true.” It wasn’t. He’d just heard her belt out songs with a compellingly clear and pure voice.
She continued walking and shook off his arm. “Yeah, he was a jerk, but now I want to prove it to myself that I can do this.”
Falling back into step, he nodded, completely getting it. He thought of what Sheena had said to him when he’d shown up at her place and tried to get her to take him back.
“What’s wrong?” Tiffany stopped, staring at him.
“Oh.” He kept walking. “Nothing, I’m hungry, let’s eat.”
She motioned up ahead. “We’re almost there.”
They kept walking together, and Sam realized he better understood why this woman was so prickly. She’d been through her own hell. Granted, it wasn’t the exact same thing he’d been through, but it’d made her doubt herself, and he recognized doubt all too well.
“So why are you still wearing the hat? Because we’ve established it’s not easy to hide who you are.” Tiffany smiled up at him.
He touched the front of it, nodding to her. “Well, ma’am, I’m just a regular Cowboy.” He was trying to sound like John Wayne but didn’t pull it off at all.
She sputtered out a laugh. “That was horrible.”
He laughed too.
When their eyes connected, he felt the same kind of connection from that first night when he’d seen her bare feet in the bathtub. He tried to play it cool. “I think I like to not be recognized all the time. It’s kind of nice. I mean, hey, you treat me like a nobody…maybe I’m getting used to that.”
Leveling him with a glare, she shoved his shoulder. “I don’t treat you like you’re a nobody,” she said seriously before pointing at him. “I just treat you like you’re any other annoying person.”
This made him chug laugh. “That’s true.”
She sighed, and they turned down another street.
“I thought we were going to the Mexican place over there?” Sam pointed back.
She grinned. “Naw, I’ll take you to some place you’re really going to like.”
“But I thought we were getting Mexican food.”
She smiled. “Oh, we are.”
As they walked up to a chain Mexican restaurant, Sam was floored.
Tiffany let out a laugh and stared at him. “It’s crazy, right?”
“Holy cow.” And, yes, he’d said holy cow.
Next to the Mexican restaurant, there was music blasting, and the front windows to the place were open. There were two big wave pools and people lined up to surf. The manufactured current would pull them out, and then they could surf like they were really riding a wave.
“Right?” Tiffany inspected the surfers with him. “I love this place.”
“Wait.” This was blowing his mind. “You do this?”
“Duh!” She laughed and moved past him into the Mexican place. It wasn’t a sit down place. It was an order and find a seat place, but Sam loved it because they could sit and watch the people surfing.
Tiffany ordered a chicken salad, and he ordered enchiladas and nachos, not caring about what his trainer would say.
Sipping her lemon water, Tiffany ate and smiled at him.
He took a bite and couldn’t quit watching the surfers.
“You look like a kid that can’t wait to go sledding down the hill on Christmas day. Look at you.” She pointed to his leg that was pumping up and down i
n little staccato bursts.
He laughed. “I know. I think I’m going to make you do this after the show tonight.”
She chewed a couple of bites, sipped some water, and then shoved the food away. “Why wait? Let’s do it now.” She stood. “Bet I’ll beat you, Cowboy. I’ll stay on the board every time.”
The look in her eyes, of complete challenge, triggered his competitive side. He shot out of his seat. “You’re so going down.”
After grabbing their stuff and throwing it away, they raced over to the surfing place. The crowd had thinned out, and Sam pulled out a twenty to pay for it.
“Wait!” Tiffany put her hand on his arm in alarm. “We don’t have suits on.”
He laughed and saw some suits behind the college boy’s head in the window. He nodded to them. “Two suits please.” He pulled out more cash.
Tiffany laughed and kept her hand on his arm. “I don’t want you to have to pay for a swim suit for me.”
Rolling his eyes, he reached for a suit from the rack that he knew would fit him. “You’re not getting out of this, Chance, so don’t even try it.”
Shaking her head, she easily tugged a swimsuit off the rack and ran for the changing room.
Anticipation circled inside of him as he changed in the men’s room. At the last minute, he decided to wear the hat for fun.
When he came out, the hat had the desired effect, and she burst into laughter. She’d pulled her hair into a half ponytail and half bun kind of a thing. He quickly surveyed the red one-piece suit she’d picked up. Man, could she look any better? He tried to re-focus on the waves.
“C’mon,” she said, pulling his arm next to her. “See how you put the board down and the water shoots you back? Well, you want to make sure you keep your center of gravity focused on the front of the board so you don’t fall.”
