Always Remember (11 page)

He was going to hate her when he discovered what she’d done. Or would he understand that she’d been young, afraid, under her mother’s influence?

She prayed he’d at least forgive her. But in her heart, she knew he’d never understand.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Two hours later, Nate plucked at the strings of his guitar, squinted against the bright lights of the stage, and tried to ignore the electrified atmosphere of Phil’s Last Chance Saloon. It had started the moment he’d walked into the bar with Jessie in tow — people whispering, pointing, standing up to get a better look, asking for her autograph — and he didn’t expect it to stop until the end of the evening when he dragged her out the door.

She held court in the center of the room, shaking hands with the patrons, signing autographs, her drop-dead gorgeous smile firmly in place. Was it always like this? Her private life consumed by her public one?

He wanted to shoulder his way through the crowd and offer his protection. In the process, though, he’d only make a fool of himself.

His fingers fumbled across the strings of the guitar. Man, he was nervous. He’d only had a case of the jitters once before — the first time he’d stepped onto a stage without Jessie at his side. Back then, he’d understood why. But now...

Heck, since high school, he’d been playing here every Saturday night. Why did he feel so darned awkward now?

Because she was in the audience.

Yeah, well, he ought to forget about Jessie. He wasn’t here to entertain her. In fact, once they started playing, he’d probably be able to put her from his thoughts.

A sour note screeched and echoed through the wide-open room. Tension slid up his arms, moved into his shoulders and neck, across his back. The drum roll warm-up and the deep pulse of the bass guitar stopped. From beneath the brim of his hat, Nate peered across the stage at Mike and George.

Best friends in the world.
Yeah, right.
Too bad they didn’t belong to someone else. “You two got something to say, then spit it out.”

Mike grabbed the quivering cymbals. They rang briefly, then went silent. “Want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

George picked away at the strings of his guitar, head bobbing up and down to the steady beat of the music. “You know, man. Jessie. What’s going on between the two of you?”

When had they ever talked about
feelings
unless the feelings belonged to him? Mike never talked about Hannah being sick so often. And if George had ever had a girlfriend or girlfriend troubles, well, no one but George knew about her. “Nothing’s going on.”

Two pairs of eyes locked on him.

“What d’you think, George? Wanna bet he’s still got the hots for her?”

“Yep. That’s why he looks nervous. He’s afraid if he sounds like an amateur, she won’t let him touch the ground she walks on.”

Nate frowned down at the strings on his guitar. Maybe if he ignored the two clowns who called themselves his partners, they’d shut up and pay attention to the music. He stroked his fingers across the strings, listened to the clear sound, and wondered if his tension would ease once he started playing.

He clenched his jaw tight and concentrated on securing an out-of-tune string. It was going to be tough enough to play without making a fool of himself. All he needed was one more comment from those two jerks and—

“Naw, he’s nervous cause he hasn’t been with a woman for so long, he doesn’t know whether he should kiss Jessie on the first date or wait till she makes a move.”

He’d definitely been hanging around with them too long. He didn’t have to make a fool of himself. They’d do it for him. “Are you two planning on playing tonight, or do you want to get off the stage and let me do this myself?”

They ignored him. What else was new?

“Hey, Mike? Bet you a beer he flubs up the first song and Jessie never looks at him again.”

Man, you’d think they were still in grade school.

“You’re on, buddy.”

Fighting back a cocky grin, Mike threw one drumstick into the air. It spun end-over-end, and fell neatly back into his outstretched hand.

Show off.
Too bad he managed to catch it before it dropped on his thick head. Might’ve knocked some sense into him.

Fighting back their grins, Mike beat a rapid tattoo on his left thigh, while George walked his fingers across the strings of his bass guitar. Nate fiddled needlessly with another string while he waited for them to settle down. The ruckus behind him ceased. Every muscle in his body tensed.

“Hey, George. Let’s up the stakes. Make it an evening on the town with our favorite ladies. Bet you he flubs up the first song, embarrasses himself, and still gets the girl.”

Enough was enough. He speared them both with a glare, but all they did was grin at him like a couple of morons. “Let’s just play and get this over with.”

They should have been twins, Nate figured. Over the years, they’d developed a harmonious sixth-sense enabling them to practically read each other’s minds.
Scary.
And their uncanny, warped sense of humor led him to suspect that somehow they’d come from the same gene pool. All they had to do was exchange
the look,
like they were doing at this exact moment, and Nate was ready to run for cover, hit the deck, maybe take his chances with something safe like a pack of snarling wolves.

Opening their mouths at the same time, their voices harmonized in a most appealing fashion...if only they’d been singing a song instead of teasing him.

“Jessie and Nate, sitting in a tree.”

“Shut up and play,” he growled. He eyed them with disgust, turned back toward the crowd, and flipped on his microphone. “Ready? And one, and two...”

As their music drifted through the bar, the chatter of the patrons faded into the background.

Nate glanced once toward the center of the room, instantly regretting it when his fingers missed a chord. He forced himself to concentrate on the music and not the shadowy image of the girl who’d stolen his heart and never returned it. At least the dim lights of the room prevented him from seeing the expression on her face. He might have seen something there he didn’t like. Or liked too much.

Nate focused on the music and somehow got through the rest of the set without another mistake. Racking his guitar, he jumped off the stage and headed toward the table where he’d last seen Jessie. Mike and George started in on him the moment he stopped at her side.

“Did you hear?”

“Yep, I heard.” George shook his head with obvious disgust. “Maybe I should check his temperature, see if that red glow on his cheeks is a fever or embarrassment.”

Nate dropped onto the chair beside Jessie and met her gaze.

Like a star in the nighttime sky, her eyes shone under the dim lights of the room. Her mouth looked soft, moist, ready for his kiss. And if she hadn’t been the focus of every person in the bar, he’d have bent his head and tasted the sweetness of her mouth.

Flub up the song? Still get the girl? Maybe he should give his two imbecile friends a demonstration, show them exactly how Jessie responded to his lovemaking. He almost felt reckless enough to try it.

He mentally gave his head a shake.

It was bad enough his hormones were out of control, but now he was thinking like a sixteen year old who had something to prove to the other guys.

People had started drifting toward their table again, demanding Jessie’s attention. Nate noticed the woman sitting quietly next to Harley. “Hi, Brenda. Out for a night at the madhouse?”

A surprised smile lit up her face. “Is it always like this?”

Had they ignored her all the way through high school? Guilt made him shift on the chair. “Only when Mike and George get out for the night.”

Mike claimed the chair next to her. “Hey, Brenda Brain. Uh, I mean...” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Jeez, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said with a shrug. “I know that’s what everyone used to call me. And it doesn’t bother me. Not anymore.”

Beer in hand, George stopped behind her and squeezed her shoulder. “We should have called you Brenda Gorgeous instead. You were always so darn smart, you scared the hell out of the rest of us mediocre students.”

“Mediocre? You?” She laughed up at him. “And you were always the sweetest boy in school, George.”

Even in the meager light of the bar, Nate could see the flush work up George’s neck and into his face. Before he could get even for all the teasing, Mike was tugging at Jessie’s shirtsleeve, demanding her attention. “Do a number with us, Jessie, like the good old days. Please, please, please?”

“It’ll make Nate’s day,” George added, a smirk on his face.

Nate felt his cheeks burn again. Tense, expectant, he steeled himself for a negative reply. A part of him, the part he’d kept hidden since she deserted him without a word, wanted her to say yes more than anything he’d wanted in a very long time. The sensible, sane part knew that if she got up on that stage with him, he’d live to regret it for the rest of his long, lonely life.

But he couldn’t help remembering how good they’d always been together, not just on the stage, but off. Suddenly, he was desperate for a beer to ease his tension.

Across from him, Harley grinned. “Come on, Jessie. Say yes.”

Emotions he’d ignored for so long slithered through him — sympathy and compassion. He twisted on the chair to face her and as she rewarded him with a genuine smile, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from reaching for her, nor resist the urge to rub the pad of his thumb along her full bottom lip.

He gave her an apologetic grin. “If you don’t say yes, sweetheart, I’ll have to spend the rest of my days listening to these two whine about the time they almost played backup for Jessie Adams.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

She might have been able to refuse the other guys, might have been able to ignore the temptation of standing at Nate’s side again, allowing the music to sweep them both away. If she hadn’t looked at him, she might have saved herself the torment of a choice she didn’t want to make.

But once she raised her gaze to his, she knew she wouldn’t say no. Not when he was looking at her like he wanted her more than anything else in the world. Like he’d move the mountain in his backyard just to reach her side.

Jessie shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant manner. “Sure. It’ll be fun.”

As Mike let out a howl of joy and everyone started talking at once, her throat clogged with emotion. How would she keep it together? In the old days, they’d been like magic up there on that stage.

Beside her, Nate downed a glass of water and looked like he wished it were a beer instead. Was he nervous, too? How could he be? She’d left and he’d gone on with his life as though her presence, or lack of it, was inconsequential.

George sat down next to her and Jessie struggled to hide her dismay and guilt. “Hi, George.”

“Jessie.” His accusing gaze burned into her. Or was it only her imagination? “You’re looking good.”

“Thanks.” Her scattered thoughts replayed the night in the hospital. George in the delivery room. Handing the squalling child to the nurse. Explaining her rights as mother. She should have listened to him. “I heard you set up a practice in town.”

He shifted, glanced down at the glass of beer in his hand. “Keeps me out of trouble.”

Silence drifted between them. He raised his gaze, his voice hushed, regretful. “I don’t judge people, Jessie, not without good cause. And I don’t tell tales.”

It was all the assurance he could give her, but for now, maybe it was enough. Jessie let out a breath of relief. “Thanks.”

George relaxed, as though he too had felt the tension of this first encounter and was relieved it was over. She wanted to say more, but there were too many people around them, too many eyes watching her, too many ears listening for the slightest hint of gossip.

Music. For now, she’d stick to discussing music. It was what she had in common with him. “So when did you three start playing together?”

Harley threw a wadded piece of paper at her brother and hit him in the chest. “A couple of years after you left, George returned to town and the three of them hooked up.”

“Yep. Three frustrated musicians.” George tossed the wad of paper back at his sister. “Now everyone’s happy, but Harley. We practice in her empty garage.”

“It isn’t empty. Your equipment’s in there. You know, sometimes it’d be real nice to park my car out of the snow—”

“Children, children,” Nate admonished as he pushed to his feet. “We’re due for another set. Jess? You coming?”

Her stomach plummeted to her feet. The brim of his hat shadowed his gaze as, one hand outstretched, he waited for her answer.

“Come on, Jess. Do us both a favor,” he said softly. “One set to satisfy the crowd and get these two clowns off our backs.”

She was so nervous, it was hard to believe she made her living on the stage. But it wasn’t the crowd that frightened her. It was standing next to Nate, looking into his eyes. Would the music heal her pain this time, make her whole again, at least for the space of the time she stood on stage?

Placing her cold hand into the warmth of his, she came to her feet and the crowd started clapping, cheering. She licked her dry lips and forced a smile. “It’ll be like going down memory lane, won’t it?”

Concern flickered in his shadow-darkened gaze as he brushed his fingers across her cheek. The need to be enveloped in the shelter of his arms turned her knees weak. He opened his mouth, his words nearly swept away by the thunder of the crowd.

“Sweetheart, let’s give ‘em a show they won’t ever forget.”

What if she couldn’t do it? What if she fell to pieces? As he led her through the crowd, his hold on her hand firm and strong, she gathered herself together.

On stage, Nate released her hand, slung the strap of his guitar around his shoulders, and dubiously eyed his excited companions before he faced her. “So what’s it gonna be?”

“What can you guys play?”

George strummed out the familiar rhythm of one of her early hits. “Anything by Jessie Adams.”

A thrill shot through her. She raised one eyebrow in Nate’s direction. “I thought you hated my stuff.”