Cowboy Sing Me Home (12 page)

“Yeah, well, my company doesn’t exactly
have a 401K plan.  Got to look out for myself.”

“You’ll have to forgive Tanner.  Numbers
make him irritable.”  Toby shut down the computer and stood.

“What kind of retirement plan do you
have?” Dusty asked Luke.

“He gives his money to me and I invest it
for him,” Toby said

 “I save on my own, too,” Luke insisted.

“That’s true.  He has this margarine bowl
beside his bed, and every night before he goes to sleep he puts his change in
it.”

“That adds up quicker than you think.  And
weren’t you leaving?”

“I’m gone.  Good to see you again, Dusty.”

After Toby had gone, Luke made an honest
effort to concentrate on the music and not give her any reasons to get annoyed
with him.  But it soon became apparent that the hymns held no real challenge
for either of them.  Things were going too smoothly, and at this rate they’d be
done in no time.

“So,” he said casually.  “You handle all
your own investments?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Why?”  He tapped his foot and thought. 
Well…

She thumbed through the hymnal as if he
wasn’t even there.  He chewed his lip and tried to think of a conversation
starter, and studied the way her eyes narrowed just slightly when she read
music, as if she was looking at the notes, but hearing the tune.  He found
himself captivated by the simplest things: the way her bottom lip tilted out
and down, almost in a pout, and yet she was the last person in the world he
would accuse of pouting.  Her brows were perfectly shaped over her dark green
eyes.  The delicate line of her jaw, and the shadow beneath where he wanted to
bury his head.  The wink of gold and emerald at her ear, lost in the cool slide
of her hair.

“How do you think this will go over?” 

She suddenly raised her head and looked at
him, and he was so caught off guard he started in his chair.  He was
fairly
sure his mouth wasn’t hanging open, but not entirely.  He scrambled and looked
thoughtfully at the hymn as if he was actually capable of coherent thought with
her that close, close enough to touch, with the scent of her in his nose.

“We don’t do that one much in my church,
but it does look like a good one.  Want to run through it a few times and see
how we like it?”

They began picking softly through the
song.  Luke couldn’t concentrate, and when he dropped a note or two, Dusty met
his eyes over their guitars and said, “No, like this,” and played the measure
slowly and deliberately, emphasizing the notes.  He repeated it correctly, and
she nodded and smiled, her full lips curving easily and a dimple he hadn’t seen
before winking in her cheek.

He decided right then that he would walk
to the ends of the earth to see another one of those smiles.

They worked their way together through the
chords a few times until they felt comfortable, then he said, “Okay, let’s do
the vocals this time.”
            Their voices blended in a tone at once so pure and intense, the
hairs stood on the back of Luke’s neck.  He wanted to look at her, wanted to
see if she felt it, too, but at the same time was afraid to.  If she still wore
that same bland expression, the moment would be ruined.

But he looked anyway.  He had to.  Her
lips were still curved in a soft smile and her eyes held a dreamy, far away
cast that had his mouth going dry and his throat tightening.  He swallowed hard
when she turned that gaze on him.

They finished the song, and she cocked her
head.  “I’m enjoying this a lot more than I thought I would.” 

She must have spoken before she thought,
because as soon as the words were out, he could see her mentally backpedaling. 
She shifted in her seat and began flipping through the hymnal again, intent on
not looking at him.  “I mean, the words are all baloney, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But it’s been a while since I’ve played
with someone, just acoustics, without the amps and backup band and all the
trimmings.”

“Maybe we should work it into the show at
Tumbleweeds.  A few ballads with just you and me, one spotlight on a dark
stage.  You know, the dramatic touch.  Give the rest of the band a longer
break.”

She thought for a moment and gave him
another slight smile.  “That’s a good idea.  Be thinking of some songs that
would work.”

She reached for her guitar case and he
realized that was the note they were going to part on.  “So, we’re still on for
tonight?”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?  The
Jubilee starts at 6 o’clock, right?  I’ll be there at 5:30.”

“I’m not talking about the Jubilee.  I’m
talking about us.”

“Oh, yeah.  Sure, we’re still on.”  She
frowned and tilted her head.  When she spoke again, her voice was a little
softer.  “Listen, Sport… you aren’t – I mean, you
have
done this before,
right?”

“I’ve played in our church before, but
never in a revival – I mean, Jubilee.”

“I’m not talking about the Jubilee.”  She
looked pointedly at him as she repeated his own words.  “I’m talking about us. 
You’re not a… you know…”

“Not a –
no
!”  She thought he was a
virgin!  Shocked, he jerked his head back.  “Good Lord, no.   Why – what makes
you – no!”

She shrugged.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean
to offend you.  It’s just that you’re kind of acting like this is such a big
deal, all nervous, and so I just wondered…”

“And you’re acting like it’s no big deal
at all.  Like you meet a different guy in every town.”  He realized as soon as
he said it that this was what bothered him.  He felt something for her,
something between them – he wasn’t even sure
what
, and he was not very
eager to figure it out – but it was becoming painfully apparent that whatever
it was, it was one-sided. 

“And what if I do, Ace?  What if I
do
have a different guy in every town?  Whose business is that, besides mine?”

“It’s not mine, I know, but –”

“Look.”  Her mouth hardened and her eyes
flashed.  “I told you Tuesday night, if you want a good little Aloma County
girl, go get one.  If you want me, you’re going to take me as I am, and keep in
mind that you have no claim.”

Luke leaned over and kissed her. 

She made a sound of protest, but in the
next instant she was kissing him back.  Her hands went up to slip through his
hair, and her lips parted beneath his.  She moaned softly, and that was all the
encouragement he needed.  He slid into the kiss a little deeper, gently tugging
her guitar out of her hands and sliding it up onto the desk beside them.  Then
he pulled her across the space between them until she sat in his lap, her
breath a sigh against his mouth.

He pulled away and studied her face, both
their breaths ragged in the silent room.  She opened her mouth to speak, then
closed it again.

“There,” he said, when he found his own
voice.  He slid his hand up her back and felt the quick thud of her heartbeat.
“
That
was the reaction I was looking for.  Not ‘what’s the big deal’.” 

            She narrowed her eyes at him.  “It’s not
too late for me to change my mind about tonight, you know.”

            “And it’s not too late for me to change it
back.”  He kissed her again.

            This time, she was the first to pull
away.  She pushed against his chest and stood, reaching for her guitar with a
shaky hand.  “I’m not here to play games with you, Cowboy.   If you need
someone to stroke your enormous…” She raised her gaze to meet his levelly. 
“Ego, you’d be a lot better off with just about anyone else.”

            “I’ve already figured that out.”  He stood
and watched as she packed her things neatly away, saw her get her balance
back.  He was on the verge of pushing too far, he knew, if he hadn’t already. 
But he would do it again, if that was what it took to rock her.

            She turned to face him, her features once
again composed.

            “Now,” he said.  “Are we still on for
tonight?”

            She remained silent for a few seconds, her
mouth set, her gaze steady.  “We’ll see.  I’ll be at the square at 5:30.”

            Dusty tapped the refresh button on her
phone. The circle spun slowly, then stopped. She held it higher, then stood and
moved slowly around the trailer, trying to get more bars. Finally the file that
Alfie, her manager, sent her loaded.

            It was a list of the gigs he had booked
for her during the next two months, with a few tentative dates in September and
October as well.  She nodded at the list of clubs he’d sent, then texted him
back:

            “Good. Keep me busy.”

            He had kept her busy.  She had three days
off after the Rain Fest, and he’d taken it upon himself to schedule a few
personal appointments for her to take care of during that time.  She frowned at
those items on the list.  Not because she resented his stepping into her personal
life; Alfie was the closest thing to family she had, and the only one who would
call a doctor and schedule a physical for her.  It warmed her that he made the
effort.  She made a face at the doctor and photo shoot appointments simply
because they were two things she didn’t want to do.

She sat back down and entered the dates
into the calendar on her phone.

Was it really time to update her publicity
photo already?  It seemed like she’d just gone through all that a few months
ago.  She studied her most current photo.  It was over four years old, but she
hadn’t changed that much since then.  She wasn’t in denial about aging; she
simply looked the same.  Same hairstyle.  Same look.  Same life.

Four years.  Should a person change in
four years?

Curious, she stood and lifted the seat
under her, removing the file that contained her older publicity packets.  She
compared the one she’d used prior to the most recent one.  Except for the
change in eye shadow, the two were virtually identical.  Same expression, same pose.
Had she really not changed in
eight
years?

“So what?” she said to the photo.  “When
you find something that works, you stick with it.

She took the two pictures into her tiny
bathroom and held them up, comparing her reflection to the paper images.

Okay, she maybe she no longer looked
exactly like she had in the first photo.  There were a couple of lines now that
didn’t used to be.  And her face had lost some of that youthful roundness,
although she wasn’t particularly sorry to see that gone. 

She studied her eyes in the first photo. 
They were flat, resentful, brooding.  She had no trouble recalling the day that
had been taken, as well as the turmoil of emotion she was going through.  She’d
lost everything and everyone important to her in the span of eighteen months. 
She’d been scared to death, not sure at all if she could make a go of being a
professional musician, not without her parents.  But determined to try anyway. 
Alfie had been behind her, possessing all the confidence in her she lacked in
herself, not giving her a chance to dwell on her fears.  But in the end it
wouldn’t have mattered if he were there or not.  She went back on the road
because she knew then, as she knew now, that it was the only place for her. 
She didn’t belong in one of the cozy, stable houses that lined the streets and
dotted the highways of the country.  She belonged on the highway itself.  It
was a lesson hard learned and not forgotten.

Her eyes in the next picture had lost
their resentment.  This one had been taken after four years on the road.  It
usually didn’t take long for a bar owner to learn she was on her own, and more
than a few thought they could get away with stiffing her on her performance
fee.  It also didn’t take long for them to learn that, after what she’d been
through, she had no compunction about throwing a few punches to protect what
was rightfully hers.

She had learned to write songs and work
with any musician she came across.  Performing wasn’t something she had to
learn; she’d been born with that.  She was amazed when people said they were
nervous in front of crowds, because that was the only time she felt at home.

She’d learned to take care of herself, to
be on her own and live with her own company.  She’d also learned that she could
navigate the highways of America by herself, could maintain her own vehicle,
and manage her own career.  Alfie was an indispensable home base, helping her
with bookings, collecting her mail, and serving as a friendly ear when she
needed to hear a familiar voice.  But for the most part her life was one of
solitude, even when she was around other people.

Dusty tried to study the eyes that met
hers in the mirror, wondering what the camera would pick up this time.  Would
it betray her boredom with her life, or the growing and uneasy knowledge that
something was missing from it?  Something that she wasn’t going to be able to
tell herself she didn’t want?

She thought again of Luke, and the way
they’d parted this morning.  He thought he was forcing a physical attraction
issue, and he was a fool.  She had no problem admitting she was attracted to
him, physically. The problem came when she realized that he wouldn’t let her
stay
in that familiar and comfortable solitude when she was around him.  He insisted
on getting under her skin.