Love's Road Home

LOVE’S ROAD HOME

Copyright © 2010 by Lisa Lewis

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way by any means without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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www.BlackLyonPublishing.com

Black Lyon Publishing, LLC

PO Box
567

Baker City
,
OR
97814

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, events, organizations and conversations in this novel are either the products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used in a fictitious way for the purposes of this story.

ISBN-10: 1-934912-25-5

ISBN-13: 978-1-934912-25-6

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010921721

Written, published and printed in the
United States of America
.

For
my
family
–
Oscar,
Tessa,
and
Bethany.

I
hope
this
makes
you
proud.

For
my
parents
-
Emily
and
George.

I’m
glad
you
liked
the
book
Ma,
and
I’m
sorry

Daddy
never
had
the
chance
to
read
it.

Thanks
to
everyone
who
gave
help
and
hope
along
the
way,
especially
Oscar
and
Sandy.

And
special
thanks
to
Chris
of
Albany
’s
Palace
Theatre,
who
graciously
shared
his
knowledge
of
concert
tours
with
me.

Any
variations
from
true
roadie/band
life
are
strictly

my
own,
for
the
sake
of
the
story.

Chapter One

Tom Crowley’s guitar fell silent, leaving only the echo of his last chords sounding in his band’s makeshift rehearsal hall. Problem was, the song wasn’t over yet.

"Hey, Tommy, what’s
goin
’ on? You don’t like the song anymore?" Leo Harper grinned at Tom from his position at the lead microphone, his thick
East Texas
accent showing itself once again.

Tom shook his head, trying to get back on track. He just had to erase the image lingering in his mind. He’d only caught a glimpse of her, and he was sure no one could look that good up close. "Sorry, Leo. Let’s take it from the top again, okay?"

Tom strummed the intro to their song "Dandelions," and listened as Leo began to croon the melody. Their band, Roadhouse, was launching an East Coast tour in two days in support of their recently recorded debut album. After singing at various clubs in and around their hometown of
Savannah
, they were finally moving things up a notch.

Just as Tom joined in, blending his baritone voice with Leo’s in the song’s chorus, he saw her again—the same vision of beauty that had disrupted him on the last run through. She was wandering around the room as if searching for someone. Luckily, he kept himself focused and made it through the whole song without embarrassing himself again.

"Okay, let’s break for fifteen," Leo suggested. "We can’t wear ourselves out before we play the first big gig."

The other band members left their instruments and moved toward the warehouse space that currently housed beer and snacks. But Tom set down his guitar and walked over to his friend. "Hey, Leo, who’s that blonde over with George? I haven’t seen her before."

George Miller was the road manager that the record producer had hired for their tour. Tom considered the band lucky to have him. He’d been in the business for thirty-odd years, and they were the greenhorns. The band was counting on George’s expertise to get them through their first touring experience with as few problems as possible.

"That’s George’s daughter. She’s going to be around for the tour, I guess."

"What do you mean, ‘be around’?"

"George hired her as a roadie for us."

Tom couldn’t hide the surprised look on his face. "What? Her? A roadie?"

"You got a problem with that, talk to George. We all knew he had carte
blanche
with hiring the tour crew."

"Yeah, I know we did, but what kind of work can she do? Is this just nepotism or what?"

Leo shrugged. "Hey, I trust George to know what has to be done and that all his crew members can pull their own weight. Like I said, you don’t like it, talk to him. I
gotta
hit the john. See you in a few." Leo gave a jaunty salute and headed toward the bathroom.

Tom turned back toward the tall, leggy blonde, still engaged in conversation with her father. He truly thought she was a sight to behold, but good looks wouldn’t keep their tour from being a disaster. And it was his professional life that needed attention, not his sex life.

He purposefully moved toward the couple, determined to get some answers.

•

"I told you, Dad, I can handle this. I won’t let you down." Beth Miller was tired of repeating herself. If her father didn’t trust her to do a good job, then he should have said so in the first place. Lord knew she couldn’t sink any lower than she already had, and an early morning McDonald’s shift surely would have taught her a lesson she deserved.

"Anything you want me to do, ask," she continued. "Don’t do me any favors by trying to make this job easier. You already did more than you should’ve by hiring me as a roadie in the first place."

"Yes,
Bethany
, I hired you. But I’d also understand if you weren’t comfortable being back in this environment and had to leave." George sighed. "I just don’t need the hassle of finding a new roadie in mid-tour. The boys are depending on me to keep everything running smoothly."

The "boys" her father spoke of were really grown men who acted like juveniles. Beth had no desire to be around such people, but right now her options were limited. "I’m sure the boys would understand if something happens. Every tour you’ve been on in the last thirty-four years couldn’t have gone perfectly. Things just happen, right? And, besides, I told you there won’t be any problems caused by me. I promise."

"Hey, George, how are things shaping up? We going to be heading out on schedule?"

Beth jumped as the whiskey-smooth voice spoke from behind her, practically in her ear.

"Everything is fine, Tom." George waved a hand toward Beth as a tall, masculine form moved to her left. "Have you met my daughter, Bethany? She’s going to be helping us out on the road."

Beth was stunned. She’d seen all the band members from a distance while they practiced, but this was the first time she’d met one of them up close. And this one was really close. She looked into his dark brown eyes and felt the heat of his body even before he stepped toward her, arm outstretched.

"Nice to make your acquaintance,
Bethany
. I’m Tom. Tom Crowley." His handsome face lit up as he sent a crooked grin her way. "But you probably knew that, right?"

Beth shook herself out of the mental fog she’d been in. She’d already learned that good looks and good character were independent traits, and she would not go down that road again. Ignoring Tom’s proffered hand, she sent him a disparaging look. "No, actually I didn’t. I’m not a fan of the band, and I’m not much into country music in general."

The grin slid off Tom’s face as he slowly lowered his arm. Her father sent her a look of admonishment, but Beth didn’t feel the least ashamed of her words.

"Didn’t you say the amps and speakers had to be inventoried and marked before being loaded tomorrow? I’ll go find Cole so we can get started." Ignoring Tom and George’s looks of disbelief, she turned and marched off to find the fellow roadie.

•