Pianos & Promises
Cole & Jillian
a novella
Jennifer Peel
Copyright © 2016 by Jennifer Peel
All rights reserved.
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To Brian C. and Tiffany J.,
Thank you Brian for your insight into the world of country music, and Tiffany for all your physical therapist expertise. I couldn’t have written this book without either of your insights.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
About the Author
Prologue
I pulled the sheet up around me to stave off the chill. Spring was here, but the nights were still cool. I wished I could blame the cool air for waking me up, but I knew, even as the days warmed, I would still be thinking about him. I tried my best not to, I even lied to my best friend about it. It made me feel better that she didn’t believe a word I said. She knew Cole Pendleton had entered my psyche and refused to leave. Or that I couldn’t kick him out. I wanted to. Men like him were trouble. I knew, because I had been married to a man like him. A man who loved his music more than life, more than me. A man with demons.
I curled into myself and thought about that night; it was becoming a habit. I had been flying back home from Vegas after finalizing my divorce from Danny. We had long been separated, so I wasn’t a complete wreck, but the divorce had taken its toll. Danny had taken a toll on me. I would always wonder what would’ve happened if Danny hadn’t taken that opening act gig in Vegas. Would our life have turned out different if we had stayed home in Nashville? He could have had a solo career here, but the money and playing the same venue every night in Vegas was enticing to both of us. I foolishly thought I would see him more, that maybe we could finally start a family. The same thoughts plagued me the night I boarded that red-eye home. Home to where I belonged.
The flight was full and the only seat they had available was in first-class. I could afford the price tag with the divorce settlement I had just received. Besides, I wasn’t staying in Vegas any longer than I had to. I hated the place.
I took my aisle seat and fastened my lap belt as tight as I could, like that was going to help if we plummeted to the ground. And at first I paid no attention to the man sleeping next to me with his cowboy hat over his face. It was Vegas, so it didn’t surprise me. I hoped he stayed asleep. I knew I wouldn’t sleep a wink. I hated flying. Tour buses were fine; I liked to see the ground. But I had to get home, and the sooner the better.
I should have known there was something unusual about my seatmate when the flight attendants kept coming by before take-off and glancing longingly at his sleeping figure as if they hoped to catch him awake. It didn’t dawn on me that I was sitting next to a celebrity. Maybe because I’d had my fill of them.
When we began to taxi away from the airport, I had to stop myself from hyperventilating. For a moment, I missed Danny. When times were better, he would have been next to me holding my hand, reminding me it would all be okay. He promised he would be there for me, though, to catch me if ever I fell. I used to believe him. I gripped the armrest and took deep breaths in and out. It wasn’t helping. My doctor voice appeared, telling myself that I had been through a traumatic event divorcing Danny, which was exacerbating my phobia. Still not working.
I closed my eyes and tried controlling my breathing. Four counts in, six counts out. My dang parasympathetic nervous system refused to kick in and control my anxiety. I pictured giving control over to the pilot. Danny had accused me of being a control freak, and maybe I was a little, but I didn’t think it was too much to ask your husband not to sleep with other women, or not come home high on whatever he could get his hands on. Call me crazy. Regardless, pretending to give control over to the pilot wasn’t helping.
I’m sure I was a sight, but I wasn’t opening my eyes until we were in the air, that was if we made it in the air. That’s how my mind worked on a plane. I didn’t count on the sleeping man next to me, or any of the events that followed that night.
At the peak of my anxiety attack, as the plane gained speed down the runway, I felt a gentle grip on my arm. At first I thought I was imagining Danny, but imaginary Danny wouldn’t speak.
“Are you all right, ma’am?”
No, I wasn’t okay, and this stranger speaking to me wasn’t helping. And did I mention he was touching me? No man besides Danny had touched me since I was twenty years old. Twelve years of my life, wasted. Not completely—I did manage to get my doctorate of physical therapy degree in the midst of the whirlwind that was Danny. And there were some really good years, and a lot of love. It was hard to remember those, though. The last two years had been hell.
“I’ll be fine in like four hours.” My eyes were still clamped shut. Every muscle in my body was tight.
He chuckled and took my hand, squeezing it gently. He began reciting airplane facts. “Planes just don’t fall from the sky. Even if the plane lost all of its engines, which by the way has never happened, it would just turn into one big glider.”
I let him jabber on all through take-off. It actually helped, mostly because I was focused on the fact that a strange man was holding my hand and talking to me. Once the plane was in the air and cruising at the optimal altitude, I opened my eyes and was I ever in for a surprise. It wasn’t just any man holding my hand. I reached up with my free hand and rubbed the side of my neck. I gave him a tentative smile. “Well . . . uh.” I pulled my hand away from his.
His return smile was warm, like a summer day at Grandma’s house. “Ma’am.” He tipped his handsome head like a Southern gentleman. He reached out to shake my hand. “Cole.”
Before I could shake his hand, a swarm of flight attendants appeared.
He gave me a wink and nod before addressing his fan club.
“Can we get you anything?” Was rung in chorus by the eager women.
“I’m good, ladies, but I think Miss . . .” His gaze turned toward me, waiting for me to fill in the blank.
“Um, Hilton, I mean Jones. Jillian Jones.” Mrs. Danny Hilton no longer existed.
“Would you like anything, Miss Jillian Jones?” he drawled.
I was about to say no, but we hit a bit of turbulence and tensing would have been an understatement. I about crawled out of my seat. “I’ll take vodka with orange juice. Easy on the orange juice.”
All three flight attendants looked at each other, each one not wanting to fill the order. I’m guessing the one with lowest rank lost after her seniors stared her down. She pouted off. Not exactly the “friendly skies.”
That left the other two to fawn over the country superstar. I almost laughed as they in
undated him with pillows, blankets, and phone numbers.
He took it all in stride. He graciously took their cards and tucked them in his shirt pocket. “Thank you, ladies. I hope you don’t mind, but it has been a long day and I’d like to get some rest.”
With hope-filled eyes, they scurried off.
I tried my best not to think ill of them, but I had been privy to that kind of scene more than I cared to think about. It hadn’t mattered that his wife was there—waitresses, flight attendants, and random women walking down the street would hand Danny their numbers. Each one desperate for a claim to fame. I never used to think anything of it; I knew Danny would never cheat on me. I was so naïve.
The loser of the stare down made her way back with my drink. I wasn’t normally a fan of alcohol, especially considering Danny’s demons, but one drink to take off the edge wasn’t going to hurt. If anything, I was doing it for my fellow passengers.
She handed me the drink, but looked right past me. Her sights were locked and loaded. She leaned over, just right, to give him a peek into her world.
I rolled my eyes.
My seatmate caught me and smiled. I gave him credit for averting his eyes at the voluptuous scene.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything? Anything at all?” The way she purred, she might as well have asked out right if he wanted to join the mile-high club, or maybe he was a returning member.
“No. No. Not a thing.”
She looked more disappointed than the other two, or maybe it was just her collagen filled lips took on more of a spoiled child look.
No matter. I downed my drink, handed the pouty flight attendant my empty glass, exhaled, closed my eyes, and leaned back.
“Do you want a pillow or a blanket?”
I opened my eyes and only turned my head toward him.
He smiled wide and held out one of the pillows.
“Your fan club may not like that, Mr. Pendleton.”
His aqua eyes twinkled. He had the thickest, most luscious eyelashes I had ever seen. So unfair. They made him look innocent. That and his hat head. “So you do know who I am.”
“I do, but don’t worry, I don’t care.” I shook my head. “I mean, it doesn’t impress me.”
He arched his left eyebrow and smirked.
I sat up. “What I mean is, I’m used to being around people like you, so you don’t have to worry about me bothering you.”
“But what if I want you to bother me?”
“Why would you want that?”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever had a woman ask me that.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Pendleton.”
On cue, the lights in the cabin went off.
I closed my eyes again and tried to feel the buzz of the alcohol. It was taking its time. I tried not to fidget, but found it difficult. And I felt him staring at me. “Yes, Mr. Pendleton?” I didn’t bother opening my eyes.
“Cole, please.”
I didn’t respond.
“Tell me, Miss Jillian Jones, what do you have against people like me? And what are people like me?”
I wasn’t going to sleep anyway. I sat up again and found him flashing his pearly white teeth in the dark.
“How many times have you walked the red carpet this year?”
“Too many.”
“That’s what kind of people I’m talking about.”
“What’s wrong with that kind of people?”
“Nothing, as long as you’re not married to one.”
“Now we are getting somewhere. Who ticked you off?”
“I thought you were tired.”
He studied me for a moment. “Hilton?” A lightbulb went off. He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Are you Danny Hilton’s wife?”
“Ex-wife.”
“That’s what I meant. I’m sorry.”
Danny’s star wasn’t bright enough to hit the major news outlets, but word got around the country music world. His exploits, and our divorce, had made the rounds.
“Please don’t apologize.”
“If it makes you feel better, I thought the runner-up that year on Nashville Has Talent should have won. That chick has some chops.”
I grinned. “That chick happens to be my dearest friend.”
“Really? What happened to her? I thought for sure she would have landed a record deal.”
“She did, but her mom got sick and died. She was left to raise her teenage brother.”
His eyes spoke of being impressed. “That’s too bad. I wouldn’t mind working a talent like hers if she’s ever interested. She almost plays the piano as well as me.”
I would never tell her what he said, or that I thought he might play the piano better than her. He was good. I knew his offer would eat at her. I thought for sure that would be the end of our conversation, but the handsome singing cowboy must have had some nap. He was bright-eyed and full of questions. I didn’t mind. It helped to keep me from hyperventilating.
“So, are you a musician?”
“No. I can barely carry a tune. I’m actually a physical therapist for an orthopedic group.” I started six months ago when I left Danny the last and final time.
He leaned back and looked me over. “A doctor?”
“I guess, technically, but I don’t have my patients call me Dr. Jones. I prefer Jillian.”
“Well, doc, if it were me, I’d make sure everyone knew.”
I smiled at him. “I don’t care for titles, only my patients.”
“You have a pretty smile, but it looks a little sad.”
“That sounds like a line from one of your songs.”
“No, ma’am, but I’ll remember it for future reference. You like my music, though?”
“Maybe.”
He pretended to shove a knife in his heart. “Now that hurts.”
Maybe it was the alcohol, but I laughed a little at him. “I can call your fan club back for you.” I leaned to the side to see the group of them with their heads together. They looked deep in conversation. Probably discussing options for snagging the man next to me.
“Let’s not.”
I leaned back toward him. I studied him for a moment. He was easy on the eyes, that was for sure. Even with his brown, matted down hair. He was built like a country boy. He looked innocent like one, too, but I had read enough about him in the news to know better. I wished Danny would have come with that warning label.
He tilted his head. “Tell me where you’re from.”
“Nashville,” I sighed. I couldn’t wait to get home.
“Well, what a coincidence.”
“Not really, considering the destination of this flight.”
“You know, you’re making it hard to flirt with you.”
Maybe my heart skipped a beat or two. It had been a long time since anyone had flirted with me, including Danny. “Is that what you call this?”
“Am I that bad?”
“No, I’m just, well . . . let’s just say timing is everything.”
All at once, the seatbelt light lit up, the captain came on, and turbulence hit. “We are hitting a patch of turbulence. Please stay in your seat with your seatbelt securely fastened.”
I had never taken mine off, but the cowboy next to me had to put his back on.
I gripped the armrest and closed my eyes. I hated flying. My stomach was twisted and breathing was becoming difficult.
I felt my hand being held again. “You really don’t need to do that.”
He didn’t respond, except to rub his thumb across the back of my hand. It was soothing. Well, sort of.
With every jostle, I squeezed his hand. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, I like this arrangement.”
“I’ll roll my eyes at you when this is all over.”
“I can’t wait to see those beautiful brown eyes again.”
“I thought we established this wasn’t the time for flirting?”
“No, doc, I just decided I needed to up my game.”
“You’l
l still lose.” I wasn’t falling for a charming cowboy again, especially not one that just got out of rehab. I couldn’t do it again. Not like Danny ever went to rehab—well, he tried for a day once. And besides, the ink on the divorce papers was barely dry.
“I love a challenge.”
I pulled my hand away. “I’m not playing hard to get.”
He took my hand back. “No one said you were.”
“Just so you know, I don’t hold hands with strangers. I’m only allowing it because my mental state is causing me to have a serious lapse in judgment.”
He laughed. “Doc, you really know how to kill a man’s ego.”
“I’m sorry. I’m usually a nice person.”
“I believe that. It’s just people like me.”
“Exactly.”
“We’re not all that bad, you know?”
I nodded, eyes still shut. I did know that. I had met some really decent people in the business.
“Tell me about your family.”
“Why?”
“I’m trying to take your mind off the turbulence. And I want to get to know you.”
I let out the breath I had been holding. “I have an older brother and sister, they’re twins. My sister lives in Ohio and my brother lives in Louisiana. I have two nieces and three nephews. My parents still live in Nashville. My dad is a retired financial analyst, and my mom owns a quilting store.”
“Are you close to your family?”
“Very. How about you?”
“Momma and Daddy still live in Mississippi. I see them when I can.”
“That’s nice,” I eked out.
“You know planes are safer than cars.”
“While that may be true, it doesn’t help.”
“Do you want another drink?” I could hear the hesitancy in his voice.
I tilted my head toward him and opened my eyes for a brief moment. I could see the struggle in his aqua eyes that looked substance free. “I shouldn’t have taken that drink in front of you.”
“You read the news.”
“I do, and I admire your choice to seek help.”
He squeezed my hand this time. “When you hit bottom, there is nothing left to do.”
Cole and Jillian (Pianos and Promises - A Novella Series Book 3) Page 1
