The Hottest Ticket in Town

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “Girl, my heart just about fell out of my chest when you collapsed onstage,” Trent said, seeming genuinely concerned. “I wish I’d known just how puny you’d been feelin’. Girl, we gotta work on our communication skills,” he said, somehow turning it back on her. Hadn’t she told Trent a million times that she was exhausted? Maybe she hadn’t been entirely clear, she realized, feeling as if she’d not only let down her fans but the man who was making all her dreams possible.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured through numb lips. She rubbed at her mouth absently, wondering why the words tasted hollow. She was sorry, she truly was, for making a mess of things, but a part of her couldn’t muster the energy to give the emotion much more than lip service and she knew that was just ugly of her. Tears burned beneath her lids as she rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t realize just how tired I was, I guess.”

  “Well, all’s well that ends well, I suppose,” Trent said, pushing a tendril of hair from her eyes with a tender touch. “Now what’s important is getting you back on your cute li’l feet, right?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “The docs are pushing all sorts of fluids into you, so you might be a little puffy for tomorrow’s show. I’ll have Simone give you a little extra room in your costumes, okay, sugar? No worries there.”

  “Tomorrow?” Distress colored her voice. “What do you mean?”

  “Darlin’, the show must go on, as they say. Docs have assured me that you’re right as rain, all you needed was a good night’s rest and so I went ahead and rebooked your canceled show. Get this,” he said, excited. “We’re even more booked than before. Seems collapsing is good for ticket sales. Who would’ve thought? Anyway, you just focus on getting some good shut-eye and then we’ll get you back on that stage where you belong.” Back onstage? Laci wanted to scream, but she nodded instead. Trent’s stare narrowed at her lackluster response. “Is there a problem?”

  I’m not ready to go back onstage. I need a break. Can’t you see that? The words bubbled on her tongue and when she opened her mouth, she really thought she was going to push them out, but instead, something lame popped out. “I’m just wore out. I’ll be fine by tomorrow night,” she promised, and in that moment, she hated herself for being a weak caricature of who she used to be. Where was her spirit? Her fire? Laci McCall didn’t used to be such a pushover. Somewhere along the way she’d sacrificed that innate quality for fame and fortune and it felt just as sickening as it sounded in her head. And yet...she continued to nod and assure her manager that all was going to be all right. Pathetic.

  Trent, mollified, chucked her chin gently the way he would a kid’s and smiled. “That’s my girl. Rest up, angel, we’re back on track tomorrow.”

  Laci held her weak smile until he left the room, but as soon as the door closed behind him, she dropped the smile like a lead weight. She couldn’t take the stage. She just couldn’t. Not yet. She needed...hell, she didn’t know what she needed anymore. All she did know was that if she didn’t get away from Trent and all the trappings of fame, she was going to die.

  A tear oozed from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek.

  “You okay?”

  The memory of a boy, handsome as sin, with hair too long and a reluctant smile too sweet, invaded her thoughts.

  Times were hard, she knew, but she hadn’t expected her daddy to drop her off and leave for the summer as he had. During the summer, her daddy logged in the high country to squirrel away cash for the harsh Kentucky winter. This time, he’d dropped her off with Cora and Warren Bradford, an older couple he’d known for a long time and apparently trusted with his only child. But damn it, her daddy needed her and it didn’t feel none too good to be left behind with strangers, even if they were nice folk.

  The boy, a year older than her at sixteen, climbed the ladder to join her in the hayloft. His blue eyes were something else, almost too pretty for a boy, and when he flipped his dark hair out of his eyes as he dropped beside her, her breath caught. His name was Kane Dalton—he and his brother, Rian, were ranch hands for the Bradfords—and he set her heart to jammin’ like a bluegrass picker with a jug of moonshine.

  He wiped at the tear on her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothin’,” she lied with a forced smile. “Just missing my daddy, I guess.”

  “He seems like a good man,” Kane said, trying to soften the blow at being left behind. “At least he’s doing something to put food on the table. My old man couldn’t care less if his kids eat. All he cares about is where he’s getting his next drunk, you know?”

  She nodded, realizing she was being whiny and selfish. She’d seen the bruises on Kane and Rian, knew that their home life was worse off than they liked anyone to know. Her daddy worked harder than anyone she knew just to keep them afloat and here she was crying like a slapped baby because he’d left her behind. She braved a smile for Kane, which wasn’t hard because he created sunshine in her soul, and asked playfully, “Kane Dalton, you always know just what to say. What’s your secret?”

  The blue of his eyes darkened as he ducked his head briefly before returning to her gaze, nothing boylike in that stare as he answered with an honesty that rang in her soul like crashing bells. “No secret, Laci-girl. Just tellin’ it like it is. I would never lie to you, that’s the God’s honest truth. I never would.”

  And then he kissed her.

  Sweet, simple, perfect.

  Laci opened her eyes, still lost in the reminiscence that’d come out of nowhere. The lingering scent of hay and summer heat remained lodged in her nostrils as the memory of her first kiss blazed through her thoughts and occupied every nook and cranny of her mind.

  Kane Dalton.

  Where are you, country boy?

  The sting of loss pricked at her tender heart and she pushed away the feelings that came with the memory of Kane and those sweltering summers spent at the Bradford ranch together. He’d left her behind, up and went into the military without so much as a goodbye or an explanation of why. He couldn’t have sent a clearer message than if he’d tattooed it on her face that she was part of his past and definitely not part of his future.

  Well, screw him. Why the hell was she thinking about Kane now? There were plenty of years between that heartache and today and she wasn’t going to drag herself down with the memory of that pain.

  But one thing she did know—as she eased the IV needle from her arm with a wince—she wasn’t going to lie around in this bed a minute longer, just waiting for Trent to waltz back in and prop her up onstage again when she wasn’t ready to go back. Tossing the tubing aside, she kicked free from the white, sterile bedding and stood on wobbly feet to search out her clothes.

  Oh, damn. Laci grimaced when she realized her glittering costume was all she had in the room, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from getting the hell out of Dodge for a while. Well, it is what it is, she thought, grabbing her costume and shimmying into it with a groan as it pinched and scratched. Bypassing her heels, she left her room, bold as you please, ignoring the concerned looks and puzzled glances from the nurses’ station, and walked right out the door.

  3

  KANE’S RENTED TRUCK kicked up dirt as he drove the familiar road to the Bradford ranch, breathing in the sweet smell of untamed earth and summer sun as a reluctant smile found his lips. He’d forgotten how good summer smelled in the South. There was something about the way a Kentucky summer reached into the soul and plucked a tune, even if he wasn’t open to listening. He hated Woodsville, but he had to admit, Kentucky was in his blood, even if he ran from it every single day of his life.

  It was too easy to remember those wretched years as a boy, too young to avoid the beatings and too weak to prevent them, that made the breath catch in his throat and his shoulders tense. Dale Dalton was a rotten son of a bitch with a worse temper, and Kane hoped he was burning in hell for all the terror and misery he’d
inflicted on his two sons. Frankly, Kane thought the old man had died too easy—a heart attack was too quick, over in a flash. Kane had been hoping for a slow, lingering cancer to eat Dale from the inside out, but no such luck. The lucky bastard had checked out with a single zap to the electrical system and it was lights out, sayonara.

  The Bradford ranch came into view, an older ranch-style home with a generous wraparound porch and views of the green rolling hills and valleys carved by the river that snaked its way through Warren’s six-hundred-plus-acre property. Beech trees dotted the countryside and made for picturesque landscape, as well as created blessed shade that was much appreciated when the humidity was hard to escape.

  He rolled to a stop in the driveway and walked into the house, calling for Warren or Cora as he went.

  Cora, in the kitchen as always, smiled big and welcoming as she ushered him into her frail arms, hugging him as tightly as she was able. “You’ve lost too much weight,” she exclaimed as if she weren’t the one looking as if a stiff wind might knock her over. “Just look at you, you’re wasting away to nothing. You need to find a good woman who can fatten you up with some good ol’-fashioned home cooking.”

  “I’m not the one wasting away,” he countered, concerned at how small and fragile Cora appeared since the last time he’d seen her two years ago. Sudden tears pricked his eyes and he blinked them back, unprepared for the emotional wallop at seeing Cora so diminished. “What’s the doc saying?”

  Cora waved away his question and said, “No talk of doctors or medicine. I’ve had enough of that nonsense. I want to hear about you and Rian. How’s that fancy new business going for you? Tell me all about it while I cut up a piece of pie. Peach still your favorite?” She knew it was, the crafty old girl. He nodded and she beamed, pulling a freshly baked peach pie from the oven, where she’d probably hidden it from Warren. “Ice cream?”

  “The pie is good for me,” he said, not wanting to put Cora into further motion on his account. Slaving away in the kitchen was the last place she needed to be, but he knew from experience that Cora took orders from no one, not even if it was to protect her declining health. He took a dutiful bite under her watchful eye and there was no need to fake a reaction because it was heaven on a fork. “God, Cora, this is the best damn pie I’ve ever tasted.”

  She swatted him lightly on the head with a sharp “Watch your mouth,” but she smiled as she slid into the chair opposite him. “Glad you like it. Too bad Rian couldn’t come with you. I miss him just as much.”

  “I know, but someone’s got to hold down the fort while I’m here,” he said regretfully, but after seeing Cora’s condition, he wondered if he ought to have Rian meet him there for when Cora and Warren returned from out of state. “Tell me about this special treatment you’re gonna have.”

  Cora, her soft little hands wreathed with faint blue lines, fidgeted as she shrugged. “Warren’s got it in his head that it’s gonna make a difference, but sometimes you have to accept that when your time is up, it’s up. There’s grace in that, you know. But he wants me to go, so I will because he’s a good man and an even better husband, but I want to spend what time I have left right here on the ranch. I have my vegetable garden and the animals and that’s enough for me.”

  Kane swallowed the sharp lump in his throat that clogged his airway. He’d known Cora and Warren since he was a mangy, starving fifteen-year-old looking for summer work, but they’d become his only family. If something happened to Cora...hell, he just couldn’t bear it. He understood Warren’s insistence to try anything, even if sounded crazy, if it meant Cora might pull through this medical nightmare. “Pardon my language, Miss Cora, but that’s bullshit. Don’t be giving up on a cure. If Warren thinks there’s a shot, you gotta take it because there’s no one on this planet who can make a blue-ribbon-quality peach pie like you, ma’am, and that’s the honest truth.”

  It was more than the pie and Cora knew it, but it made her smile just the same and her smile was worth a million bucks in Kane’s opinion. He finished the pie like a good boy, even scraping up the crumbs, just as Warren walked in from the fields, covered in dirt and smelling like a pasture.

  Kane rose respectfully and clasped the older man’s hand, relieved to find it strong as ever in spite of the fact that he was nearing eighty. “Kane, you’re looking good, boy,” Warren said, smiling. “Any trouble getting the time off?”

  “No trouble, sir. Happy to help.”

  Warren’s proud smile said volumes. “Good, good. It’s too bad we leave tonight. It would’ve been nice to catch up.” He stopped and sniffed the air, then spied the pie on the kitchen counter. “Peach pie! Where’d that come from?” His expression went from excited to distressed as he looked to Cora with concern. “You been in here making that pie while I was tending to the chores? Woman! Are you trying to kill yourself before we even get to Florida? The doc said you need to rest before the flight and here you are working yourself to death.”

  “Oh, hush,” Cora said to her husband, shaking her head as if he was being a ninny. “Baking a pie isn’t hard, you just throw the stuff in a bowl, mix it up and toss it in the oven. A child could do it. Now stop pestering me and go show Kane what he’s supposed to be doing while we’re gone and I’ll have your slice ready for you when you get back.”

  Warren looked torn between wanting to chastise her a little more and needing to do exactly what Cora said, but eventually the ticking clock won out as he grumbled, “C’mon, Kane, let’s get this done so’s we can hit the road. I don’t want to chance missing our plane.”

  “Lead the way,” Kane said, casting a short wink at Cora before they headed out. The old girl was still running the roost, no matter what anyone said about her health. If anyone could beat cancer, it was Miss Cora—that much he knew. It was a small but vital comfort to his worried heart as he followed Warren out to the cattle barn.

  “I know it was hard for you to drop everything and come, but I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important,” Warren started once they were clear of the house. “She’s not doing so good and I’m not gonna sit by and watch her die without a fight.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Kane said, shifting against the pinch of guilt for staying away for too long. “I should’ve been more helpful from the start. Why didn’t you tell me that Miss Cora was so bad off?”

  “Troubles are private, son. No sense in burdening others with something they can’t fix,” Warren answered with quiet pride. “Besides, you have your own life to run. How’s that going?”

  “Good.”

  Warren grunted, accepting the one-word answer. “You ever hear from Laci?”

  “No, sir. Not since we were kids.”

  “That’s too bad. She was a good girl. I seen her on the television the other day. She always did have a pretty voice to go with that pretty face. She calls now and then, but with her schedule, it’s hard to break away, being famous and all that.”

  Kane grunted as if agreeing, but he didn’t want to talk about Laci or speculate about her celebrity lifestyle. Warren sensed his discomfort and obliged him by switching tracks, moving to the list of chores that needed to be done to keep the ranch moving while they were gone. It was like riding a bike and, by the time Warren was done, it was dark and time to call it an early night. After a quick supper of cold chicken and freshly baked bread, washed down with cool lemonade, everyone said their goodbyes and the Bradfords hit the road.

  When he and Rian had been boys, they’d slept out in the pump house, makeshift guest quarters that couldn’t have been more perfect for two teenage boys. Kane had offered to take his old quarters, but Warren wouldn’t hear of it and instead offered up the room that’d always been Laci’s. Kane scrubbed his hand over his face with a smothered groan. The worn hardwood floor creaked under his feet and memory sprang to life, vibrant as the day it was created.

  “Laci, are you sure about
this?” he asked. His seventeen-year-old voice broke, his nervousness at being caught only temporarily muted by the intense, overwhelming need to feel Laci against him. The floorboards creaked and it sounded like a four-alarm fire bell, clanging like the dickens, blaring a warning for all to hear that Kane Dalton was up to no good with sweet Laci McCall! He froze, sweat beading his brow as he tensed, preparing to jump out the window if need be, but it was all quiet. In fact, if he strained hard enough, he could hear Warren snoring from behind his closed bedroom door. Kane’s heart hammered in his chest and he half feared a heart attack or something the way it was carrying on.

  “Get your cute butt over here right now, Kane Dalton,” Laci whispered with a giggle. “This is a one-time, limited offer. And if you don’t take me up on it, I might just change my mind and leave you in your sorry state.”

  Kane glanced down at the raging erection bulging his jeans and he swallowed in half embarrassment, half agony. “C’mon, Laci, if we get caught...”

  “No one’s gonna catch us, you big scaredy-cat.” She grinned in the moonlight, more beautiful than ever, and he nearly swallowed his tongue. “Warren and Cora sleep like the dead. Nothing could wake them. Now...are you gonna just stand there looking silly or are you gonna get over here and show me a good time?”

  If his cock were in charge, he’d say, Hell yes! And would be vaulting his way to that bed, but he was torn between the fear of being caught and tossed out for violating the Bradfords’ trust and giving in to his deepest, most secret desire and banging the hell out of that country cutie! But he and Rian needed this job and he couldn’t screw things up by thinking with his dick, right? Hell, who was he kidding? It was more than his dick that was talking. He’d fallen head over heels for this girl and there was no denying it, even if it was the stupidest thing he’d ever gone and done.