Heartland (10 page)

She belted out the last notes of the patriotic tune, then the audience rose to its feet in a rousing ovation. EJ stood on rubbery legs and clapped. His heart ached at the sentiment in the song, the fact she wrote it for him, and chose tonight to sing it. He needed to talk to her.

She bowed, then with a wide smile, gestured a hand toward him.

As he sat down, he couldn’t help the thoughts racing through his muddled mind.

What was she doing to him?

Chapter 9

Emily sang three more old songs. She loved every moment of it, but she wanted to talk to EJ. As he watched her, she couldn’t stop looking at him, and by the time she finished the love song she recorded for her second album, there was no denying the intensity in his gray-eyed gaze or the way it heated her in places she didn’t want it to.

With a wave, she thanked the audience and headed off the stage. As she put her guitar in its case, she watched EJ amble toward her. Her mouth dried up at the prospect of spending time with him.

He stopped a few feet away from her and fiddled with his hat between his hands. “You wrote a song about me?”

She folded her arms in front her and shrugged, going for nonchalance, but inside her belly flopped and her heart pounded at the prospect that he liked the song. “I wrote a lot of songs about a lot of people. Most notable are those I wrote about my two famous ex-boyfriends.”

Before she married Fabian, she’d dated two teenage actors. Neither relationship had been serious, but the crap those two pretty boys put her through made good fodder for angsty breakup songs and even two or three revenge songs.

At his grin, her belly clinched at the way it transformed his handsome face to gorgeous. “I guess I should be glad my song wasn’t like those.” After a moment, he put his hat on his head. “I’ll see you around.”

When he turned to leave, her heart sank. She didn’t want him to go. “EJ?”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, and a thrill surged through her at the invitation in his gaze. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah. Let me tell my dad.”

Getting to the door became almost impossible as the people stopped her, wanting autographs, cell phone pictures, or to give her their well wishes. She sensed EJ’s growing discomfort at having the crowd of people press in on them. They were about halfway through the bar when he took her hand.

His warm, rough touch elicited a tingle of warmth to travel up her arm. She glanced at him. Why did he take her hand? Did he feel the same buzz she did?

As soon as they passed through the door, he let go of her. “I thought I’d never get out of there.”

She took a deep breath and studied his profile as he stared out at the vehicles in the parking lot. Under the bright spotlights outside the bar, beads of sweat pooled on his forehead and his skin appeared pale beneath an enticing shadow of dark stubble. “Hey, are you okay?”

He swallowed hard enough to make his throat move and met her gaze. “I needed to get out of there or things would have been more than a little dicey.”

What did that mean?

Before she had a chance to voice her question, he asked, “Is your car here?”

She tilted her head toward her father’s crew cab Ram truck sitting at the side of the bar. “I came with Dad and Gabe. You’ll have to drive.”

The color was coming back into his cheeks, and he flashed his gorgeous, cocky-as-hell grin. “I came in my official rig.”

She shrugged in an effort to hide the shiver coursing through her at the sudden desire heating her insides. “As long as the handcuffs are fuzzy, I’m game.”

He chuckled as he took her hand again. “Fuzzy handcuffs, eh? I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”

As soon as EJ helped her into the passenger side, memories flashed through her mind of a time when she called a different man “Daddy” and she had no idea he was a monster.

They traveled toward McAllister in silence for a while. At the light in the center of town, EJ glanced at her. “You’re awful quiet all of a sudden.”

She sighed and rubbed her hands over the gooseflesh on her arms. “I was remembering all the times Mike drove me around in his sheriff’s cruiser.”

As the light changed to green, he nodded and turned onto River Street which eventually became River Road--the county cowpath they both lived along. “Did you ever hear from him after his trial?”

“Once. After he was sent to Clements Prison, I received a letter from him. Mom never let me read it.” She looked down at her hands and fisted them on her thighs, fighting the pain the memories caused. “But I know what it said.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry.” He glanced at her. “But if you ever want to talk about what your family did to you, I’m here to listen.”

At the sudden burn in her sinuses, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, refusing to let the bitterness bubble up. Could she talk to EJ about Mike and her parents? He met her gaze for a moment, and she saw something she’d not seen in the eyes of anyone who’d known her all of her life--compassion. Not pity, not guilt or hatred, but empathy. She’d learned through the last two years of forced counseling that not talking about her screwed-up feelings for the man she thought of as her father for all of her early childhood, and for the lie her mother told, or Seth’s not fighting for her when she was little was much worse than keeping them locked up. Oh, she understood the messy reasons for all of it, but knowing why the events had happened wasn’t the same as truly accepting them.

Before he had to look back at the street, she asked, “Am I crazy that a part of me still loves Mike, and another part hates my mom and dad?”

“You thought he was your father during some of your most influential years. As for your feelings for your mom and dad, I think that’s understandable. Your mom lied to you. Your dad stayed away while he got rich and famous.”

She snorted. “You make it sound simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

With a shrug, she looked out the side window as the houses of the town gave way to dark pastures. “I don’t know. Some of the things I feel aren’t that cut and dry. I do hate Mike more than I love him, and I love my parents more than I could ever despise them for their stupid mistakes they made when they were teenagers.”

“You’re more forgiving than I might be in your boots.”

“I don’t believe you.” She looked back at him and met his gaze. With a smile, she laid her hand on his upper arm. The bicep under his shirt contracted at her touch, and their eyes met again. “I’m glad we’re friends, EJ. I need one now.”

Oh, they could easily be more than friends, if the heat in his gaze was any indication, but she couldn’t let there be more than friendship between them. The feeling of loss hit her hard in the chest. God, she wished she could have
more
.

He smiled and looked back to the dark straight stretch of road, but soon a frown tugged his lips. “What were you doing at Gatlin’s tonight?”

She bit her lip to keep the grin from her lips and folded her hands together in her lap. “Giving the sheriff’s department a reason to practice mob control.”

He snorted and flipped on the turn signal. “Funny.” He pulled into his driveway and parked the SUV in front of a detached garage. The seriousness in his expression when he faced her took her aback. “Why would you risk the temptation?”

She sighed but couldn’t be angry at his unspoken question:
Or haven’t you given up the booze and drugs?
“The strongest thing I had to drink tonight was water. We were celebrating and decided the best way was by putting on a show.”

EJ folded his arms over the top of the steering wheel and leaned in as he studied her. “Celebrating?”

She opened her door and gestured toward the outside with a tilt of her head. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here and we can talk.”

They left the SUV and headed up the stone walkway to the front porch of the two-story ranch house. He unlocked the door and turned on the light inside before shifting to the side for her to enter. After he hung his hat on a rack by the door, he motioned for her to follow him into the living room. “Sorry about the mess. I try to keep Austin’s toys cleaned up, but I had to rush out this morning.”

Chunky plastic construction trucks littered the floor between the couch and a built-in unit of shelves stacked with colorful crates filled with more toys. “Kids need to play. He’s two, correct?” He nodded, and she added, “Where is he tonight?”

“With the Marshalls. I promised Glenda I’d let him visit for the weekend.”

She couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose. “I never liked that woman.”

EJ laughed as he turned on a lamp next to the couch. “Not many people do. Try having her as a mother-in-law.”

“No, thank you. You deserve a medal. When I was a teenager, I was friends with Trevor. She made such a stink about it he eventually told me we couldn’t be friends anymore.”

“Sounds like Glenda. If she can’t control you, she finds ways to control those around you. The key to living with her is to make her think she has control.” He jutted his chin toward the leather couch. “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I’m going to make a cup of coffee, but I can make you some tea.”

Surprised by him remembering she didn’t drink coffee, she raised a brow and sat on the edge of the couch. “I’d love tea. Thank you.”

“Coming right up.”

She watched him enter the kitchen at the back of the house. Her heart thumped in her chest at how easy and hard having a friendship with this man would be. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him, but she could never let anything develop from it. Maybe she should leave. The Double K wasn’t too far away, and she could always call her mom to come and get her. Momma hadn’t come with them to Gatlin’s, but elected to stay home with Johnny.

Emily reached into her purse to fish out her phone when EJ returned carrying a tray holding two steaming mugs, a bowl of sugar, and small milk pitcher. The only thing missing was a plate of cookies. The sight of such domesticity in a man who exuded hundred-proof testosterone struck her as hilarious, and she laughed.

He set the tray on the end table next to her. “What’s funny?”

“I’m sorry…” She sucked in a breath, but couldn’t control the giggles. “It’s…”

As if he’d read the situation, he chuckled as he poured milk into the mug holding coffee, then picked it up. “Okay, a man with a tray is amusing, but my mama raised me in the height of good ol’ Southern hospitality.”

She wiped the corners of her eyes with the back of her hands and shook herself in an increased effort to get under control. When she finally did, she smiled at him. “I always liked your momma.” She lifted the tea bag out of the cup of hot water a few times to help it brew. “She made the best banana nut muffins.”

His mother had worked as her grandfather’s housekeeper for years, while his dad was the Double K’s foreman.

He sat in the chair next to the end table. “She loved to bake, but now she doesn’t do much. Her arthritis is too bad.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” She fixed her tea with sugar and laid the spoon on the tray.

“What were y’all celebrating tonight?”

Hugging the hot mug between her hands, she leaned back in her seat and sipped the sweet, soothing brew. “Gabe, Dad, and I are opening our own record label.”

He whistled between his teeth. “Sounds impressive.”

She shrugged setting the cup on the tray and outlined their plan.

“You’re retiring from singing?”

Not being able to sit any longer, she stood and moved around the room to the entertainment unit sitting on the shelves of the built-in. She mindlessly brushed her fingers over his impressive collection of CDs, pulling an occasional case out to look at the cover art. “Maybe. I love performing, but I can’t do it on a large scale anymore.” The name on several of the cases gave her pause. She turned to look at him. “You have every one of my CDs?”

He stood and set his cup on the tray. “Yeah.” He crossed the room to stop inches from her. This close, his masculine scent of sage and spice enveloped her, as did the heat in his pewter eyes. He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek, and the sensation hit her as hard as a snort of pure coke. “I’ve always loved your voice. Even when you were little and John Kendall would have you do some mundane job in the barn to keep you busy. I would stop outside to listen to you sing.” He stepped closer as he laid his hand on her cheek, and her breath caught while his deep voice vibrated through her. “I’ve seen you in concert twice in Dallas. You were even more amazing tonight.”

Holy hell, he was going to kiss her! She turned away before either of them could act on the incredible magnetism drawing them to each other.

As if to get himself under control, he took a deep breath. She had to dial this attraction back a little. He said he wanted to be her friend and she could talk to him. How could she remind him that was all they could be? Remembering his rush to get out of Gatlin’s and his ashen pallor, she asked, “What happened back at the honky-tonk? And don’t tell me it was nothing. You acted like a demon was chasing us.”

He swiped a hand through his wheat-colored hair and turned toward a shelf holding framed photos. Most of them were of his little boy. She hadn’t missed the fact there weren’t any of his dead wife.