One Last Kiss

by Jessica Lemmon

  I knocked on his door, and he called out, “Come in!”

  I inched my way inside and found him seated at his ancient rolltop desk. He was pulling on his boots.

  With his graying hair and sun-weathered skin, he looked older than his fifty-nine years. He was a former rodeo cowboy, a bronc rider who’d never become as successful as he’d hoped. Of course, he was a horse breeder, too. But he’d also worked as a short-order cook when I was young, doing whatever was necessary to keep me in ribbons and bows, however tattered. As hard as he’d tried, we’d still been poor. But nothing like Dash. When he was a kid, they’d lived in a run-down trailer, going to food banks and collecting welfare in between his daddy’s sporadic day jobs and music gigs.

  “Is Dash here?” Pop asked.

  “Yes.” Only I needed to know what the deal was. “I don’t understand why you asked him to do this.”

  “I didn’t ask. He offered.”

  “To do what, exactly?”

  “To keep you company at the hospital and to help with my recovery once I come back home, too. I thought it would be easier to have a man around, in case I get grossed out trying to change the bandages myself. It’s not a good idea for you to do, either. That’s just too personal for me.”

  As far as I knew, my father wasn’t a squeamish guy. I’d seen him cut and bruised and climbing back in the saddle during his rodeo days. But maybe this was different. Or maybe he was making excuses.

  I cautiously said, “I understand and accept that you and Dash have done your best to remain friends and keep in touch. But we could’ve talked to one of your old bronc riding buddies about coming by to help you with the bandages. It didn’t have to be Dash.”

  “I know, but I thought having him around might benefit you, too.” He finished putting on his boots. “That it might sway you into doing that duet with him. Honestly, hon, why not let him help you get your career back on track?”

  “I appreciate you trying to look after me, but I’d rather make a comeback on my own.”

  “Yeah, but I hate seeing how hard you work. You shouldn’t have to bust your butt, balancing two jobs and trying to sell your songs yourself. Not when Dash is at your disposal. You need to take advantage of his fame.”

  I heaved a sigh. Pop didn’t know that I was going through a personal crisis and that being around Dash was going to make it more difficult for me. And I didn’t plan to tell him, either.

  He said, “I’m sorry if I blindsided you by inviting Dash to come with us. But I think it would be nice for you to become friends again. I don’t remember you ever fighting or trashing each other, not even when you broke up.”

  Yes, we’d parted amicably. After my miscarriage, I’d made the agonizing decision to end our engagement, and Dash hadn’t tried to stop me. He’d just let me go, the desolation of our lost child drifting between us.

  But I couldn’t obsess about that now. “Let’s just work on getting you well, Pop.” My ailing father was my priority. And if that meant spending time with Dash to give my father peace of mind, then that was what I would do.

  * * *

  Dash’s driver/bodyguard, a big stoic dude named Zeke, kept the motor running as we pulled up to a side entrance reserved for hospital personnel. Another of Dash’s security guys was waiting for us there.

  Zeke used a magnetic key card to unlock the door and usher us inside, while the other security guy parked the car. We made it into the building without incident.

  We separated from there, with me taking Pop to get him checked in and prepped for surgery. Once I was alone, I would meet Dash in the private waiting room. I was glad that he wasn’t going to be with me every step of the way. It had been tough enough riding in the car with him, while he and my dad talked horses and music and everything except the fact that Dash and I used to be a couple. I suspected Zeke could tell how uncomfortable I was. Analyzing people was probably a significant part of his job.

  After I got Pop settled in, I wandered over to a vending machine. I wondered what Dash would do if I waited in one of the open areas instead of joining him in the private room. Would he send Zeke off to look for me?

  I scanned the items in the machine and chose a candy bar. I cursed and got Dash one, too. It used to be a favorite of his. I had no idea if he even ate sweets now.

  All these years later, he’d become a stranger to me. Then again, he’d always been an enigma: a man who used to hold me tenderly in his arms, without setting much store by love.

  I cleared my mind and got a third candy bar for Zeke. I’d been taught to be polite. Maybe too polite? I reminded myself that I was doing this for my daddy. I didn’t want to create any bad mojo today.

  The private waiting room wasn’t hard to find. Zeke stood outside the door, blocking anyone else from entering. He looked like a stone wall, dressed in a dark suit.

  As I approached him, I gave him a chocolate bar. He tucked it into his jacket pocket, his lips curling into an itty-bitty smile. But his reaction didn’t make him any less intimidating. If I ever got famous enough to have security, I was going to want someone like him on my side.

  My success had been nothing compared to Dash’s. But for me, it had still been pretty amazing. I understood why my father wanted that for me again. But being in this situation was torture. I was nervous about being alone with Dash.

  Zeke opened the door, summoning me to his boss. Dash definitely had all the power. Men often did, in my estimation. It wasn’t supposed to be that way in this day and age, but I’d just gotten trapped in a male-dominated situation. Unfortunately, my father was partially to blame. If he hadn’t helped orchestrate this reunion, I wouldn’t be in such close quarters with my ex.

  The room was small, the decor beige and bland and generic. The door snapped shut behind me, courtesy of the bodyguard.

  Dash glanced up, and I sucked in my breath. I wanted to leave a chair between us, but I forged ahead and sat beside him, hating how easily he commanded my attention.

  I extended the candy bar I got for him. “I don’t know if you eat these anymore.”

  He accepted it. “My trainer had me on a strict diet and workout routine when I was on tour, but I can cheat a little now.”

  He did look exceptionally fit, but he’d always taken care of himself. When I’d first met him, he was stacking bales of hay at the feedstore where we both worked, and had arms and abs to die for. Eventually, we’d bonded over our musical aspirations. But in the beginning, I just wanted to get my hands on that rock-hard body.

  Did I look the same to him, with my long brown hair, medium blue eyes and natural curves? Either way, I’d matured, and so had he. He’d turned thirty while he was on the road, and I would be twenty-eight next month.

  “Do you want to share this?” He unwrapped the candy bar and offered me a bite.

  “I have my own.” I showed him the one I’d tucked into a side pouch of my purse. I removed it and joined him in the chocolate-and-nougat fest. “Did anyone approach you while I was gone?” I asked. “Or take your picture?”

  He shook his head. “The corridor I used was blocked off, so I was the only one who had access to it.” He gestured to a door on the other side of the room. “I came in that way. But it’s locked now.”

  And Zeke was protecting the entrance I’d used. “Your team really had it figured out.”

  “It helped that the hospital was so accommodating. They’re used to dealing with celebrities in this town. I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last.”

  True, but at the moment, he was the prince of Nashville. Everyone wanted a piece of him. Before he got famous, I’d had my piece, night after night, naked in his bed. The memory left me hungering for sex. I hadn’t been with anyone for at least six months. I doubted that Dash could make the same claim.

  “What did they say about the surgery?” he asked, interrupting my wayward thoughts. “Are
they going to come get us when it’s over and talk to you about it?”

  “Yes. They’ll also decide if Pop should stay here overnight or come home today or if he’ll need chemo or radiation afterward.” It all felt so up in the air.

  “I’m sorry he’s going through this. And that you have to deal with it, too. I know how much he means to you.”

  Yes, he knew. I was aware that he’d shared the same kind of closeness with his father, too. He’d even inherited his dad’s musical abilities. Kenny Smith should’ve been a star like his son. But he’d never progressed beyond coffee bars and shoddy nightclub gigs.

  “It’s a shame your dad didn’t get to see your success,” I said. “He would’ve been so proud of you.”

  He nodded. “It’s been bittersweet, climbing the charts without him.”

  “I wonder where your mom is and what she thinks of your celebrity status.”

  He scowled. “I have no idea, but I don’t want to talk about her.”

  Clearly, it remained a sensitive subject. I couldn’t blame him for that. And since she’d left her family for a tremendously wealthy man, maybe she didn’t give a hoot about Dash’s illustrious career.

  But I certainly did. We used to daydream about winning Grammys and CMAs and every other accolade out there. Except he’d done it without me. He’d already collected all sorts of Best New Artist awards.

  Was I being an idiot, turning down the duet? No, I thought. I was being strong and independent, refusing to put myself at the mercy of the man I used to love.

  Or still loved. Or whatever.

  My feelings for Dash never failed to confuse me. I could kiss him right now and probably melt girlishly in his lap. I finished my damned candy bar instead, eating the last few gooey bites.

  He reached over and ran his thumb over the left corner of my lips, and I flinched something fierce.

  “What are you doing?” I pulled away, afraid of how instantly aroused I got.

  “You had a piece of chocolate...”

  I rubbed the spot he’d touched. “Is it gone?”

  “Yes. I already got it.” He pressed his hands against his jeans. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  We gazed uncomfortably at each other. I glanced away, hoping that he would start a new conversation. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. The awkward silence was deafening. Problem was, I sensed that he was feeling the sexual tension, too.

  A few minutes passed before he said, “Your dad told me that you’re working at the feedstore again, running the front counter like you used to.”

  Well, shoot, I thought. Not exactly a topic I wanted to discuss. But better than the carnal quiet, I supposed.

  I replied, “It’s just a few days a week to make some extra money. I work as a virtual assistant, too, for a company that hires VAs to schedule social media content for their clients.”

  “My management uses a service like that.”

  “A lot of companies do.” My income as a VA sucked, though. The pay at the feedstore wasn’t any better. To steer the talk away from me, I said, “I heard that you bought a mansion, out in the country somewhere.”

  “It’s a great place. But I haven’t spent much time there yet. It’s been a whirlwind year, being on the road.” He hesitated. “You should come by sometime and let me show you around.”

  Oh, sure, like I was going to pop over and say hello. “Have you invited my dad to see it?”

  “Not yet. But I’d just gotten off tour when he told me that he was sick. I could tell how glad he was when I offered to help. I think he’s worried that if something happens to him, you’ll be all alone.”

  My heart clenched. “I have friends, people I see.”

  “Yes, but he’s also hoping that his illness will inspire you to work with me. He wants your career to take off again.”

  “He already told me how he feels about that.” And I didn’t need to hear Dash repeat it.

  “What about following through on our idea from the past? Remember how we used to say that someday we would do a special song together?”

  “I haven’t forgotten. But that was a different time, a different place, a different life.” And I couldn’t do it, not even for my cancer-stricken dad.

  Dash sat back in his chair, broody as ever. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  I didn’t respond. He’d just removed his hat to run his fingers through his hair, and now I was analyzing how beautifully the strands fell into place. He wore it short on the sides and longer on top, in a stylish undercut.

  “Are you dating anyone?” he asked suddenly.

  I squinted at him. Was he seriously inquiring about my love life? Just the question alone served as a reminder of how lonely I’d become, intensifying my current hardships.

  I steeled my heart and said, “Not at the moment. But there’s been lots of men since you.” I wasn’t lying about that. I’d played the field, even if I hadn’t done it lately.

  A muscle pulsed in his jaw. He seemed jealous, but it served him right. If he’d loved me, we’d still be together.

  He tossed his hat aside. “I’ve scored a lot, too.”

  “Of course, you have. Groupies galore.”

  He rolled his eyes. “As if that matters, with the way you used to chase me at the feedstore.”

  I could’ve smacked that smug look right off his face. “That’s not the same as you having groupies now. You weren’t even famous then.”

  “You still wanted me.”

  “You wanted me, too,” I shot back.

  “We both wanted each other.” He leaned toward me, his dark gaze boring into mine. “Maybe we should kiss and see if it still feels the same.”

  Everything inside me erupted: the past, the present, my uncertain future. “Really? And what would that solve?”

  “Nothing, except I think it would leave us both clamoring for more, like it did back then.”

  “I could kiss you without wanting more.” Earlier I’d imagined melting in his lap, but I wasn’t feeling weak or soppy now. My body had gone taut, my breathing shallow, and my anger was roiling. “I can control myself around you.”

  “Oh yeah?” he snapped. “Then prove it.”

  Screw him, I thought, while I stared him down. We’d barely ever fought before. Little tiffs here and there, but never anything major. I’d always suppressed my temper. But I refused to do that now.

  I grabbed his shoulders and put my face next to his, nearly bumping his forehead with mine. It felt good to be mad, to let the pain come rushing out.

  “Here’s your proof,” I murmured hotly against his mouth. I was going to kiss him as if the world was about to end, then never, ever do it again.

  Copyright © 2020 by Sheree Henry-Whitefeather

  SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM

  West Caldwell has come to Redemption Ranch to put his past behind him. Flirting with a pint-size police officer who thinks he’s bad news is definitely not part of the plan, but it’s deliciously easy to get under Pansy’s skin. In her arms, West feels like the man he always wanted to be—but can he become the man Pansy deserves?

  Read on for a sneak peak of The Bad Boy of Redemption Ranch, a Gold Valley novel, from New York Times bestselling author Maisey Yates.

  The Bad Boy of Redemption Ranch

  by Maisey Yates

  “I...I DON’T CARE who you’re with, West.”

  It was the first time she’d ever directly addressed him. The first time she’d ever used his name.

  “Pansy,” he said. “I think you do.”

  “I don’t,” she said. “I’m trying to get a job as the police chief. And I’m not going to mess around with... I’m not going to...”

  “But you want to.”

  “I want this job.”

  But he had seen her. Seen the way that her lips
parted softly when she looked at him, the way that she looked at his mouth when he took a drink of beer. He had seen how she looked at him, and he knew the way that it made him feel. It was too damned late for her to pretend that he hadn’t.

  He reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her up against him. He wrapped his other arm around her back and placed his palm directly at the center of her shoulder blades. He expected her to get stiff. Expect her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she shivered. Her whole body went pliant against his. All his blood rushed south. He wanted...he wanted her.

  He wanted this.

  And he was going to take his time, because he hadn’t held a woman in his arms since his wife, and every memory of making love to Monica was ruined now. Torn beyond repair.

  In the dim light he could just make out her eyes, wide and looking up at his, glittering beneath the moon. He ran his thumb along her lower lip, and found it soft and full.

  Inviting.

  “Damn you’re pretty,” he said.

  His voice was rough and husky, a stranger’s voice. He didn’t know if he could recall a time when the potential for a kiss had made him feel this way. So damn hard he couldn’t see straight. So damn hard it hurt.

  And then she did something he hadn’t expected at all. She went up on her toes, bracketing his face with her hands, and kissed him.

  Don’t miss The Bad Boy of Redemption Ranch by Maisey Yates, available June 2020 wherever HQN Books and ebooks are sold.

  www.HQNBooks.com

  Copyright © 2020 by Maisey Yates

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