Wild Nashville Ways

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  My father studied me for a silent second. “How’s it going otherwise?” he asked. “Are you two getting reacquainted?”

  Yes? No? Sort of? “We’re doing fine. But I’m still not making a record with him.”

  “I wasn’t going to pester you about that.” Pop grinned, his tired blue eyes twinkling. “Not today, anyhow.”

  “But you’ll do it on another day, huh?”

  “Probably.” He laughed, then winced. “Ooh, I felt that.”

  I reacted with immediate concern. “I can get you a pain pill. You’re going to need your antibiotics, too. But it might be better to take them with food, so you don’t get queasy.”

  “I can wait until breakfast.”

  I tried for a smile. “I’ll go make sure it’s edible.”

  He returned my smile. “Thanks, sweetie. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I’d gotten lucky having him as my daddy.

  I made my way back to the kitchen, and everything seemed hunky-dory. No scorched skillet or lumpy pancakes.

  I stood back and watched. Dash was in the process of flipping the next one and looked damned fine doing it. He even had a sexy dusting of flour on his sweatpants.

  He shot me a sideways glance, and I wet my lips. I could’ve eaten him alive, devouring his mouth with mine. Lucky for me, I’d vowed never to kiss him again.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  Was he kidding? He was making me famished, only with the wrong kind of appetite. “I could eat a small stack, I guess. But I’m going to get Pop his, first.”

  “Sure. Okay.” He completed another perfect pancake.

  I fixed my father a plate, along with a glass of orange juice and a cup of black coffee. I also removed his meds from the pillbox I’d prepared yesterday. He was supposed to take the antibiotics three times a day.

  I put everything on a tray and brought it to him. Pop was impressed that my ex had nailed the pancakes on his first try.

  When I returned to the kitchen, I noticed that Dash had put on a T-shirt.

  “You got dressed,” I said, stating the obvious. “I thought you weren’t going to do that until after your shower.”

  “I didn’t want to offend you while we were eating.”

  Offending me wasn’t the problem. But I was glad that he’d covered up. I didn’t need to drool over him any more than I already had.

  I set the table, and he poured us both some coffee.

  “Do you still take mounds of that French vanilla creamer in yours?” he asked.

  I nodded and went to the fridge to get it. “Do you still like yours with just a bit of sugar and splash of milk?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He waited for me to sit before he took his seat.

  He was behaving like a proper Southern boy, I thought. Or as proper as a guy from the wrong side of the tracks could be.

  “You look cute in your pj’s,” he said.

  My pajamas weren’t anything special, just plain blue cotton with a simple green trim. “You don’t have to pay me compliments.”

  “I wasn’t just saying it. I mean it. I always liked that you could be natural or glamorous. I could never decide which side of you was more appealing.”

  “There’s no difference. I’m the same person, either way.”

  “Yeah, but it makes you seem different, like twins or something.”

  I foolishly asked, “Have you ever dated twins?” I shouldn’t care who he played around with, but it was too late to take the question back.

  “No. That would be weird, I think. I’d rather have one woman who seems like two.”

  Meaning what? That he would rather have me? Or someone who reminded him of me? I’d tried to replace him in bed. But none of my other lovers had ever satisfied me the way he did.

  I reached for the syrup and poured it over my pancakes. I set down the bottle, and Dash picked it up and doused his, too. I noticed how slowly it dripped.

  Thick and sweet and sticky...

  I cut into mine and took a bite. How was I going to survive two whole weeks of this? Or however long it turned out to be?

  I looked up and saw that he was staring at me. I had syrup on my lips, but now I was too self-conscious to lick it off.

  Finally, he sipped his coffee, and I used my napkin to wipe my mouth.

  “I’ll do the dishes when we’re done,” I said, interrupting the silence. “I’ll clean the kitchen, too.”

  He glanced toward the stove. He’d spilled batter all over it. “I’m not leaving that mess for you.”

  “You aren’t the tidiest cook, that’s for sure.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I should’ve skipped the video and called my chef to talk me through it.”

  “You have a chef?” He hadn’t mentioned it before now.

  “Yes, but he doesn’t make anything fancy for me. My tastes haven’t changed. I still don’t like the gourmet stuff.”

  “Me, neither.” Pop had raised me on simple Southern fare, and that remained my preference, too.

  “My chef used to work for the people I bought the house from, so I kept him on. I kept some of the ranch hands and caretakers, too. They’ve been at Pine Tower a long time.”

  His estate had a name? I should’ve expected as much. Big, rich places often did, and Pine Tower sounded strong and masculine, just like him. But it didn’t matter how glorious his home was. I didn’t aim to set foot in it.

  We finished eating, and he cleared the plates, intent on cleaning up.

  “I’m going to shower now,” I said. I figured this would be a good time to get myself together and change out of my pajamas.

  He nodded, and I left, still struggling with how anxious being in a domestic setting with him was making me feel.

  I gathered my clothes from my room and took them into the bathroom.

  As I stood beneath the spray of water, I tried to keep my mind off Dash. But it didn’t work. He consumed my thoughts. I even imagined him using the shower after me, standing in the same stall, using the same liquid soap. I couldn’t wait until he went back to his regular life. Having him here was killing me, and it was only the first day.

  After I was clean and dry, I styled my hair and did my makeup. I didn’t make my eyes too smoky, but instead lined them just enough to create a semblance of the glamorous “twin” Dash had accused me of being.

  I dragged on a pair of skinny jeans and tied my blouse in front. Then I returned to my room and pulled on my boots, checking my reflection in the full-length mirror.

  With a steadying breath, I went to find Dash to tell him the bathroom was free.

  By now the kitchen was clean, and he was in the living room, studying a grouping of framed photos on the fireplace mantel. I moved closer, and he turned toward me.

  He said, “I was just looking at your mom’s pictures and thinking about how much you favor her.”

  “You used to say that before.”

  “I know. But it’s been a while since I’ve seen these pictures, and you look even more like her now.”

  That was true. I did. As for Dash, he favored his father. But I’d never seen a picture of his mother, so I didn’t really know what she looked like. Soon after she’d left, his dad had destroyed all of her photos. He’d kept the ones that Dash was in, but he’d scribbled over his ex-wife’s face with a marker. He was sorry for his actions later, though, and cried about it, wishing that she would come back to him. Even after she’d betrayed him, he’d claimed that he’d never stopped loving her.

  Dash, on the other hand, had rejected the idea of ever falling in love. He’d made up his mind, at twelve years old, that he would never let it happen to him.

  I’d been fascinated with love since I’d walked my bridal Barbie down the aisle. But my parents had set a beautiful example. I’d grown up in a house brimming with l
ove.

  I’d lost my sweet mama without ever getting to say goodbye. On a Monday evening in late September, she’d died in a car crash on her way home from work. Sometimes Mondays still made me sad. The month of September, too. Just the leaves changing colors could trigger grief. But mostly I celebrated my mother’s life. I’d learned to do that from Pop.

  “This is my favorite,” I said, pointing to a photograph of my parents together, a candid shot taken about a year before she was gone.

  Dash traced the edge of the frame. “They look happy.”

  “They were.” So very happy.

  He paused, then lowered his hand. “Do you still have any pictures of us together?”

  I hesitated, too, and shifted my gaze to his. “Yes, I still have them. They’re in an old digital file.” The most difficult ones were from when I was pregnant. I’d never really gotten a noticeable baby bump, but our child had still been there, growing inside me. I dared to ask, “Did you keep any of them?”

  He nodded. “We look so young in them.”

  “We were young.” But I didn’t want to think about who we used to be. Or who we were now. I was already suffering from seeing him again.

  He reached out as if he meant to touch me, but I stepped back, making sure that he didn’t.

  “You should go take your shower,” I said, needing to be rid of him.

  He frowned. “Yeah, I guess I should.”

  He walked away, but it didn’t help. I was still affected by him—in my mind, in my body.

  But mostly in my heart.

  * * *

  Two days later, I put a plan in motion. I needed to shatter my feelings for Dash. I needed to purge my fertility issues, too. I decided it was time to talk to Alice, my closest and dearest friend, about the secret I’d been keeping.

  I called and asked if she was free this afternoon, and she invited me to her house for lunch. Now all I had to do was check in with Dash.

  I went outside. It was a lovely summer day, and he was sitting on the patio, taking in the air. He’d spent time with Pop’s prize stud this morning, working him in the round pen. Dash had always been a natural horseman.

  He glanced up at me, then shielded his eyes from the sun.

  I inched closer. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “Sure.” He moved his chair to avoid the glare. “What is it?”

  “I’m having lunch with a friend, and I wondered if you’d keep an eye on Pop while I’m gone.” My father was sleeping for now, and I didn’t want to disturb him.

  “Of course, I can. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Thank you.” A moment later, I said, “Actually, you have a business association with my friend’s husband. Alice is married to Spencer Riggs.” Spencer was a renowned songwriter that Dash was supposed to work with on his next album. Funny how people could be connected that way. But it only stood to reason that the hottest new songwriter and the hottest new country star would be planning on making hits together. “I’ve known Alice for a long time.”

  “Is she the one who helped jumpstart your career?”

  “Yes.” My debut album was a compilation of songs written by her late mother, and Alice had been involved in hiring me to record them.

  “I heard that Spencer got married while I was on tour, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. I don’t know him that well yet. I’ve only met him a few times, but as soon as I’m ready to go back to work, I’m going to call him.”

  “He’s a good guy. I think you’ll enjoy collaborating with him. I was in their wedding party. I performed at the reception, too.” It had been a beautiful experience, seeing Alice and Spencer so happy.

  “Maybe we can get together with them sometime.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “To go to dinner or something.”

  “The four of us?” I shook my head, taking a moment to catch my breath.

  He pulled a hand through his hair. “It might be a nice way for you and me to become friends again.”

  By hanging out with a married couple? I couldn’t fathom it. “I think we should keep our relationships with them separate. We shouldn’t fuss about trying to become friends, either.” I didn’t want to do anything with Dash, except get these next couple of weeks over with and hopefully never see him again.

  He dusted dirt from his jeans, brushing his hands over his knees. “It was just an idea.”

  He sounded disappointed. But I couldn’t cater to his whims. I’d done that when we were together, giving in to whatever he wanted, even if it hurt me. The first time I’d told him that I loved him, he’d freaked out and asked me to never say it again. Of course, I’d thought that I could cure him. That, eventually, he would accept being loved and would fall desperately in love with me, too.

  I hurried up and said, “When Pop wakes up from his nap, he’s probably going to want to go for his walk.” He’d been getting a little exercise each day like he was supposed to.

  “That’s not a problem. I can go with him. We can stroll down to the barn and back.”

  Dash was definitely making my father’s recovery easier. But that didn’t mean I had to be friends with him. “I know that Pop appreciates your help. You’ve been wonderful with him.”

  “I’m glad to do it. I’d be glad to help you in any way I can, too. I want to make a difference in your life, Tracy.”

  I gripped the back of an empty chair. Did he have to be so accommodating? So willing? So irresistible? “I won’t be gone long. Maybe a few hours or so.”

  “Okay.” He spoke softly. “See you then.”

  I turned to leave. But unfortunately, I could feel Dash watching me. He was always roaming his gaze over every inch of my body, making me feel warm and dizzy and forbidden.

  * * *

  A short time later, I arrived at Alice’s house, and she greeted me at the door. She lived in a beautifully renovated home that Spencer had purchased when he was still a bachelor. In addition to his songwriting, he ran a dog rescue on the property, which was where he was this afternoon.

  I went inside, and Alice reached out for our customary hug. She was a stunning blonde with short, spiky hair, and always wore the latest clothes. Although her primary ties were to the Nashville music scene, she worked as a fashion stylist.

  After she prepared lunch, we took it outside and sat beside the pool, with its sparkling blue water.

  We dined on salad, turkey-and-cheese sandwiches and a pitcher of sweet tea. For dessert, she provided an assortment of cookies her pastry-chef sister had made.

  “I’m so glad your dad is doing well,” she said. “I have a box of cookies to send home with you for him.”

  “Thank you.” I’d told her over the phone that Dash was helping with Pop’s care. She knew my entire history with Dash. Alice and I had been confiding in each other since we’d first met.

  “I can’t imagine what it’s like for you to have to see Dash every day,” she said.

  “It’s driving me batty.” I attacked my salad, stabbing a cherry tomato. “You know how I was already struggling with his fame, and now I wake up every morning and there he is. I think about him when I shouldn’t be, like when I’m in bed or in the shower.”

  Alice stirred her tea, making the ice in her glass swirl. “I know what that’s like. I used to do that when I was trying to manage my feelings for Spencer.”

  And now they were married and planning a family. But it was different for me. I wasn’t getting back together with Dash. But nonetheless, I needed to say what I’d come here to say. I braced myself and started with, “There’s something important I need to tell you. Something I should have told you before now.”

  She leaned forward. “About what?”

  I winced. “The likelihood that I’ll never have kids.” I went on to explain, as thoroughly as I could. “I started having irregular perio
ds a while ago, but I thought it was stress, so I didn’t see a doctor right away. I knew I wasn’t pregnant because I hadn’t slept with anyone in the last six months.” I gathered my thoughts, troubled as they were. “My ob-gyn ran some tests and discovered what was wrong. I’ve got something called premature ovarian failure. It means that my ovaries aren’t releasing eggs regularly and aren’t generating normal estrogen levels.”

  “Oh, Trace. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that was possible for someone so young. You’re not even thirty yet.”

  “It can happen to women and girls even younger than me.”

  Alice looked worried. “It’s not life-threatening, is it? It’s not related to ovarian cancer or anything like that?”

  “No. But most women with POF are infertile.” I felt the tears coming to my eyes. “And being around Dash is making it even harder. I keep thinking about the baby we lost and how I’ll probably never have another one.”

  “That’s so sad.” She got teary-eyed, too. “Are you going to tell him about what’s happening to you?”

  “God, no. He’s the last person I would ever tell. I’m not going to say anything to my dad, either.”

  “Are you taking estrogen?”

  I nodded. “It’s supposed to prevent some of the complications I might have later, like osteoporosis. People sometimes mix this up with early menopause, but it’s not the same thing. The symptoms are similar, though. The doctor even said that it might lessen my sex drive. But that isn’t happening. In fact, I’m actually feeling the opposite, getting hot and bothered over Dash.”

  “Well, that’s good,” she said, then quickly clarified. “Not that you have the hots for Dash, but that your sex drive is still going strong.”

  “I kissed him at the hospital when we were waiting for Pop’s surgery. I did it to prove how much control I had and that I could kiss him just once and never do it again. But now he’s all I think about.”

  “Remember when you encouraged me to be with Spencer to try to get him out of my system?” She shook her head. “But then I fell in love with him?”

  “My problem is that I never really fell out of love with Dash.” I glanced over at the pool. “I wish there was a remedy for that. Between Dash and my medical issues, I’m a mess.”