Wild Nashville Ways

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  She referred to all her employees as her kids. “Thanks. But I’m good.” I just wanted to see Tracy.

  I waited, eager for her to show up.

  When she entered the room, I tried for a smile but fell short. I hurt inside, and so did she. The old memories were reflected in each other’s eyes.

  “I told you not to come here today,” she said, much too softly.

  “I know.” By now, I just needed to hold her. “But I want to a steal a kiss from you.”

  “You can’t do that.” She glanced nervously around. “What if one of my coworkers comes in? It’ll give us away.”

  “How about the utility closet?” We used to go in there and mess around when we both worked here. I’d even knocked over a whole shelf of cleaning supplies during one of our more rambunctious sessions.

  She shook her head. “That’s even worse.”

  “You’re right.” It was toward the back of the building, and someone would probably spot us trying to sneak in there. “Why don’t I just block this door with one of the tables? Then if someone tries to come in, we’ll just say that the door is stuck. That’ll give us some time to put the room back to normal.”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, already eating her lipstick off. “Do you really have to kiss me that badly?”

  “Yeah, I do.” As difficult as this day had been, I couldn’t think of a better way to relieve my stress. “Come on, just say the word, and we’ll do it.”

  Was she counting the erratic beats of her heart? Deciding what to do? I counted mine, punchy as they were.

  One...two...three...

  “I must be crazy to be going along with this,” she said.

  “Maybe we’re both nuts.” I hurried and barred the door. As soon as I was done, I backed her against the wall.

  She lifted her face to mine, and we kissed. In the passion of the moment, I blocked everything out, except seducing her. She made naughty little sounds, and I moved against her in a carnal rhythm. I tunneled my hands through her hair, and she knocked my hat off my head. Apparently, it was in her way.

  We stopped to suck in some air, then went right back to it. She kept making lusty noises, and I kept getting harder. I wanted to take this all the way, but I couldn’t have sex with her here. But damn, I was tempted. Maybe I should just undo her jeans and work my hand inside, rubbing her in the sweetest of spots.

  The doorknob rattled, and we jumped apart. Someone was trying to come in. Voices sounded on the other side.

  “It’s locked,” a woman said, sounding confused.

  “I didn’t even know it had a lock,” came the reply.

  “Me, neither. But I think he’s in there.”

  Shoot, I thought. Clearly, they were looking for me. Feedstore employees who wanted to meet Dash Smith.

  I put a finger to my lips, warning Tracy to stay quiet. She nodded, and we waited for them to try the door a few more times and give up and go away.

  Finally, after we heard their retreating footsteps, I plunked on my hat, and Tracy smoothed her hair.

  “Am I flushed?” she asked. “Do I look guilty?”

  I nodded, and we both burst out laughing.

  “What about me?” I asked. “Am I still...obvious?”

  She glanced at my fly. “Yeah, there’s still a bulge.”

  “Like I have a sock stuffed down there? Rock stars used to do that when they went on stage. They called it sock ’n roll.”

  She scoffed at my ridiculous knowledge. “You’re making that up.”

  “I’m not. I swear. They really did it, and people really called it that. But I don’t need to enhance what I have, not when I’m around you.” I flashed a macho smile and reached for her, but she ducked out of the way, stopping me from pulling her into my arms and kissing her again.

  Spoilsport, I thought.

  “I have to go,” she said. “This was a longer break than it should’ve been.”

  I returned the table to its original spot, as if nothing had been amiss. “You should go by yourself, and I’ll follow in a little while. There’s probably a lot of fans on the sales floor by now. Word of Dash Smith sightings travels fast.”

  She didn’t reply. She just headed for the door. But she did glance back, giving me one last breathless look.

  I watched her leave, struggling with the way she made me feel. The emptiness every time she was gone.

  Eight

  Dash

  The DNA test was a familial match to mine, proving who Lola was. I’d expected as much, but at least that part of the ordeal was done. The rest of it was just beginning, though.

  I met with Zeke at my house, working out the details. This time we sat in the front parlor, a room decorated with reclaimed wood and rustic antiques.

  “What does she want?” I asked.

  “Aside from renewing her relationship with you? She wants to move back to Nashville. But she doesn’t have any money to make the move or anywhere to live once she gets here.”

  “She wants me to relocate her?”

  “Yes. She’s hoping you’ll do it soon because the friend she’s staying with in LA is getting impatient for her to go. It was just a temporary arrangement between them.”

  I met his steady gaze. Zeke’s eyes were darker than mine and hooded beneath his brows.

  “What was your impression of her?” I asked.

  “Your mom? She’s a handful, I’ll say that much. She cried a lot while I was there.”

  I wasn’t surprised that she’d cried in front of him. My dad used to do anything for her when she cried. I’d been affected by it, too. Those dramatic tears. “Did she tell you that she was raised in foster care?”

  “No. She didn’t mention her childhood. But it’s obvious that it shaped who she is.”

  Just as mine had shaped me. I got up from my seat and walked over to the window, standing next to the glass, making decisions in my head. Zeke sat patiently, letting me think it through.

  Finally, I said, “I want you to arrange to bring my mom to Nashville and rent a place for her to live.” What else was I going to do? Leave her to fend for herself and scurry around on the streets? “Make sure it’s in a nice neighborhood, but that it’s somewhat secluded, too. I’ll work out a budget and tell my accountant to release the funds. It’ll also include a car, some credit cards and a monthly allowance.”

  “I’ll let her know. By the way, she told me that once she gets back to Nashville, she wants to change her name to Lola, as a way of starting over here. She plans to do it legally, through the county clerk’s office. It’s a simple process. Basically, it’s just a form she’ll have to fill out, with a filing fee.”

  “Lola Smith?”

  “No. Lola Dorchester. She thinks her maiden name suits her better than Smith. She’s uncomfortable about keeping Smith as her last name because of how badly she treated you and your father.”

  “It’s funny how all these years later, she’s concerned about me and my dad.” I cautiously asked, “If she was your mom, would you be helping her the way I am?”

  Zeke frowned, giving me an indication of what his response was going to be. Normally he was difficult to read, rarely giving his feelings away.

  He said, “If I was in your position, I would probably do exactly what you’re doing. But I wouldn’t be happy about it, either.” We both fell silent, until he asked, “Do you need anything else from me? Or is that it for tonight?”

  “That’s it. I’m going to head over to Tracy’s, if she has time to see me. But I can drive myself.”

  “If you’re going to start spending time there, I should have cameras installed around her place.”

  “I’ll talk to her about it.” But for now, I just needed to touch her. Quickly, mindlessly, passionately. I hadn’t seen her since the stolen kiss at the feedstore. I hope she’d ag
ree to accommodate me. With the way she was calling the shots, I couldn’t be sure.

  Once Zeke was gone I called her, and she made it even more exciting. She told me that she had to finish up a job on her computer, but that I could come by after she was in bed.

  “I’ll leave a key for you under the mat,” she said.

  I got hard just thinking about it. “Will you be naked? Will you be ready for me?”

  “Maybe,” she replied, all soft and sexy. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Even though she was offering herself to me, she was still being elusive. “What time should I check under the mat?” I practically panted into the phone.

  “Late. After midnight. Do I need to text you my address?”

  “No.” I’d never been to her house, but I knew where she lived. I’d always kept her on my radar, even after we’d split up. And now, after everything was said and done, I still wanted her.

  * * *

  At the stroke of midnight, I got in my truck and prepared to drive to Tracy’s, immersed in anticipation.

  I took the back roads. Though it wasn’t a ranch or farm, Tracy’s house was located in a patch of country, near her dad’s place.

  There weren’t any headlights behind me; no one on my tail. I’d gotten lucky that the paparazzi weren’t overly interested in me right now. Lots of musicians laid low and rested after a big tour. Unless I did something to spark attention, like getting caught with my ex, they’d be chasing someone else.

  I turned onto the road that led to Tracy’s house and saw the moon peeking through a copse of trees as I pulled into her graveled driveway and killed the engine. She’d forgotten to leave the porch light on. Or maybe she’d done it purposely. I couldn’t be sure.

  I used my phone as a flashlight and knelt to lift the welcome mat. I didn’t see a key. But I keep looking, and finally in the back left corner, I hit pay dirt.

  I unlocked the door and went inside. It was pitch-dark, so I continued using my phone for light. She hadn’t made this easy. But somehow, I only found it more thrilling.

  More mysterious.

  I crept down the hall. I didn’t know which bedroom was hers, so I tried the first one, turning the knob slowly and pushing the door open a crack.

  I turned off my phone to keep it from shining in her face if she was in there. I crossed the threshold and squinted in the dark. Was Tracy in the bed?

  As my eyes adjusted to my surroundings, I caught a sudden glimpse of her. Her back was to me, and she was covered with a sheet. All I saw was the shape of her hair, spilling over her pillow. I couldn’t tell if she was naked, but I was eager to find out.

  I removed my boots and socks, then stripped off my T-shirt, pulling it over my head. I left my jeans on for now.

  I got into bed with her. She appeared to be asleep, but I suspected that she was awake and playing a seductive game with me. I touched her hair, but she didn’t stir.

  “Tracy.” I whispered her name and tugged the sheet from her body, one inch at a time.

  She was bare, beautifully, sensuously bare. I traced my fingers down her spine, following the feminine curve of her body. She made a breathy sound and turned to face me. I leaned over her, and we kissed, opened-mouthed and carnal.

  Heaven on earth.

  I reclined next to her, and she unzipped my jeans and put her hand inside. I groaned and slipped my hand between her legs, giving her the same type of pleasure that she gave me.

  We kissed and touched and rubbed. I was hard, and she was soft and wet. It was a damned fine combination. The best.

  Together we shoved my jeans down my legs, and I took them all the way off. I wasn’t wearing underwear. This was a commando night. But before I discarded my denims, I secured a condom from the pocket. I’d brought several, making sure that I was well prepared.

  I put on the protection and braced myself above her. She opened her thighs, and I slid between them, entering her in one fell swoop. I remained still for a second, savoring the feeling of my body locked with hers.

  She wrapped her legs around me, and I pushed deeper in and out. But I was careful not to move too fast. For now, I wanted it to last.

  I cupped her breasts, and she arched her back, her body feline in its grace. We kissed again, and she roamed her hands over me, lingering over the muscles in my back and shoulders as though they had been sculpted just for her.

  It made me feel powerful, rough and strong and male. I could sneak into her room for the rest of my life and still want more. I envisioned her moving into Pine Tower with me. But I’d already had mixed-up thoughts about marrying her, so it was just par for the course.

  I increased the tempo, needing to come, to clear my mind and lose myself in the friction.

  She clawed my back, urging me on. Clearly, she was eager to come, too. I helped her along, lowering my hand between our bodies and rubbing her where it counted.

  A gasp escaped from her throat as her nails sank deeper into my flesh. Would she leave lingering marks? Would I wake up tomorrow with evidence of her passion? I hoped so.

  She came first, shuddering beneath me. I lost it seconds later, spilling everything I had into her.

  In the silence that followed, I collapsed in her arms and steadied my breathing. She nuzzled my neck. We didn’t remain that way for long. I had to deal with the condom.

  “There’s a trash can by the desk,” she said, and turned on a small nightlight.

  “Thanks.” I removed the condom and tied it off. I stepped over my clothes on the floor and tossed it away. In the light, her room was soft and warm, decorated in pale hues.

  “Will you stay until I fall asleep?” she asked.

  I turned to study her, our gazes meeting and melding. “Definitely.” I returned to bed, searched for the sheet and covered both of us with it. “What about the key? Can I keep it, in case we ever do this again?”

  “Yes.” She extinguished the light. “It’s an extra.”

  I was glad that more midnight rendezvous were possible. It excited me, making my body hum. But somehow that wasn’t enough. I still had the notion to ask her to move in with me. But I remained quiet.

  She cuddled in my arms, and I kept my eyes open, like a knight on the queen’s watch, protecting what was mine.

  She nodded off, drifting into a silent slumber. I buried my face against her hair, then got up to leave.

  I didn’t turn the light back on for fear of waking her. I searched for my phone in the dark and gathered my clothes. Luckily, I’d put my socks inside my boots or I probably would’ve never found them.

  I got dressed in the living room, as quietly as I could. Would she consider moving in with me? Or would she insist on ending our affair? On letting it go?

  I locked her front door and returned to my truck. I couldn’t keep obsessing about this. I needed to go home and get some sleep. With my hands firmly planted on the wheel, I drove back to Pine Tower.

  Alone, with the moon on my heels.

  * * *

  Zeke took care of my mother’s relocation, and in a little over a week, she was back in Nashville. Her new residence sat on a hill, all by itself, surrounded by heavy foliage and iron fences. I was on my way to visit her for the first time now.

  I rode in the back seat of the SUV, shielded by its tinted windows. When Zeke pulled into her driveway and hit the remote, closing the electronic gate behind us, I thought about how carelessly she’d abandoned me. How she’d said that she wanted to take me with her, but that her boyfriend—the guy she’d left my dad for—wasn’t used to kids and couldn’t handle having me around. She’d promised that she would send money and buy me gifts and come back to see me, but she’d never done any of those things.

  And now I was paying her way. As twisted as it was, there was a strange satisfaction in knowing how much she needed my money. That the boy she’
d left behind had grown into a successful man, beloved by millions. Yet I was still nervous, anxiety buzzing like mosquitoes in my gut.

  I said to Zeke, “I’m not going to stay long.”

  He nodded, and I exited the car. I was sporting a pair of custom-made, hand-stitched boots. I’d paid top dollar for them. Ten grand, to be precise. After what “Lola” had done to me and my dad, I was perfectly fine with flaunting my wealth in her face. It seemed like poetic justice, somehow. But mostly I was still hurting inside, feeling the abandonment all over again.

  I knocked on the door and took a deep breath, preparing myself for the moment I would first look into her eyes. Her lying eyes. I just hoped that they weren’t edged with tears. She was good at crying, at making people feel bad for her, especially me and my daddy.

  The door was flung open, and there she was, the woman who’d birthed me. She was older, but still tall and thin and strikingly attractive. She’d always gotten by on her appearance, using it to her best advantage.

  She wore a silky white blouse and slim black pants. Her auburn hair was shorter than it used to be and styled in a sleek bob revealing a pair of glittery earrings. They didn’t appear to be designer pieces. They actually reminded me of the costume stuff she used to buy at the Goodwill. Had she sold the pricey jewels she might’ve collected over the years? Was she being forced to wear cheap baubles again?

  “Dash.” Her voice quavered. “I’m so glad to see you.” She moved forward as if she meant to hug me, but I stepped back, thwarting her effort.

  Tears flooded her hazel-brown eyes. Just as I feared, she’d resorted to crying. I noticed her false eyelashes and how voluminous they were. She used to wear them before, too, on the nights Dad took her out. He’d always been so proud of how pretty she was.

  “Come in,” she said, dabbing at her eyes.

  I’d yet to speak. I couldn’t seem to find my damned voice. I entered the Tudor-style house. Zeke had already told me that it came elegantly furnished, and he was right. I spotted lots of glass and chrome, offset by carved woods and luxurious fabrics.