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Chapter Four

Rachel

I didn’t know why I asked him to play my song. I guess I loved his voice when he sang it. I gripped the handle of the broom as “Picture Postcards From L.A.” filtered into the air. I remembered the first time I heard him playing it and the smile on his face as the words oozed out of his mouth. He was singing just for me…and it was my song.

A small-town waitress wanting to make it to the big time. That was me!

So that’s why I loved it, but then I also hated it, because the song talked about how she never actually left. She never made it to LA, because something always made her stay.

I wanted Josh to be my reason…like in the song. It’d be romantic and sweet, and if I was honest, he kind of was a reason, but he wasn’t the only thing keeping me in Payton.

It took a fair whack of soul-searching for me to figure it out, and if anyone asked me, I wouldn’t admit it, but I think maybe I was scared. So, I kept telling everyone I hadn’t saved enough yet. I hadn’t really. I mean, I had enough for a bus ticket to LA, but then what? I didn’t even know where to begin fulfilling my promise to Mama. I’d be a lost kid in a big city with nothing but the clothes on my back and an old guitar. I didn’t know if I was ready for that feeling again…and so I stayed.

Some days it wasn’t so bad, but on nights when I’d been called a whore and made to feel like trash, I wanted out. I wanted to prove them all wrong about me. I wasn’t the homeless kid I used to be and one day, they’d be reading my name in the headlines and wishing they hadn’t been so cruel.

Rachel Myers—country singing sweetheart. Grammy winner. Superstar. That’s what I wanted to be.

I slid the broom under table six, capturing a couple of curly fries and a balled-up napkin, a sigh resting in my chest.

The way Roy looked at me, treated me like I was worth nothing more than a good time, it was hard not to believe him. I was probably a fool for wanting anything more than what I had.

Josh and Amos saved my life—taking me in, helping me get better, and then loving me. No man had ever made me feel the way Josh did. The way he’d stood up for me against Roy, well if that didn’t melt my heart, nothing could. That boy would bloody any bar floor for me, and although that sounded kind of gross, it was also so romantic.

Why would I want to leave that?

Because…

Mama’s sweet smile flashed through my mind.

Because I had promises to keep.

I wasn’t turning into Millie Rae. No, siree. I could fool myself into thinking staying here would be enough, but it never would be.

When I was on stage, that feeling…nothing beat that. I
needed
that life. Imagine being able to sing, for a living! No more sweeping floors or getting beer stains on my favorite shirts. No more Handsy Roy McGarrett and leering, drunken men. I had to make that happen for myself…I just wished I knew an easy way how.

I brushed the dirt into separate piles around the room, trying to focus back on the magic of Josh’s voice.

Leaving all that crap behind would be a piece of cake.

But leaving Josh…that would be a little more challenging. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he knew. I mean, I talked about it all the time, so it’s not like I’d be leaving him high and dry or nothin’.

Guilt skipped through me, and I nibbled on my lip. I was having one of them restless nights. Damn if they didn’t keep me awake until sunrise.

Grabbing out the dustpan, I made quick work of clearing the floor. Josh had started up the song again, not singing this time, just gracing the room with the piano accompaniment. His aunt had forced him into lessons when he was a kid. He confessed to pounding those keys in anger every lesson and complaining that he hated it, but he was grateful now…and so was I. If that amazing woman was alive, I’d thank her profusely for what she did. She became Josh’s ma when he didn’t have nobody. His daddy was a Marine and wasn’t around too often, and by the way Josh spoke of Amos and Lindy, I knew they were his parents really. They did all the hard work.

I balanced the broom against the wall in the kitchen, scratching my curls and finally letting out that sigh. I stepped back into the bar and leaned against the doorframe, watching Josh play. He was so beautiful—a breathtaking, all-powerful man. I did love him. I never told him much, not wanting to give him false hope. I showed him in other ways.

A cheeky grin played with my lips, and I slipped out of view, wriggling my panties off with a little snicker. That boy had earned him some and if anything, it’d help settle my restless heart, if only for a night. I ambled back into the main bar and stepped onto the small stage, stopping next to the piano. Ignoring the fact he was playing, I eased my leg over his. He stopped for a second so I could nestle myself against him, my skirt riding high as I straddled his lap. My boots rested against the piano bench, and I grinned at him as he tried to keep playing.

Licking my top lip, I chuckled as his fingers faltered, but it wasn’t until I glided my tongue up the side of his neck that the song fell apart. A disjointed chord disturbed the air when I sucked the sweet spot just below his ear.

His large hands cupped my butt, his fingers digging into the denim skirt only just covering it. I rocked against him, feeling him grow hard beneath me. The rough denim against my sensitive skin turned me on, making my insides tingle with urgency. I yanked at his shirt, forcing his arms up so I could whip it over his head. The feel of his rock-hard, smooth skin beneath my hands always made me heady. He was a rippled, hot wonder. I ran my hands down his back, enjoying the power of his body as I rested my lips against his shoulder.

His hands were feather-light as they scooped my hair away from my neck before traveling down my back. Hot, wet lips nuzzled the crook of my neck, a sweet moan slipping from between my lips as he squeezed my breasts.

“I have to have you now, honey. Right here,” I whispered.

“Right here?” he puffed back.

“You know it.”

And he sure did. His large hands jumped off my shirt and started lifting my skirt out of the way, his fingers lightly scraping my skin.

He paused, his brow knotting when he looked at me. “Please tell me you weren’t panty-less all night.”

I chuckled, whispering in his ear, “Only for you, Grizz.” Sucking his lobe, I pulled away so I could unzip his fly. It was a little awkward, I have to admit, but there was something so damn sexy about making love on a piano bench that we made the awkward work. He held me tight against him as he raised his butt and wriggled out of his jeans. They were soon puddled at his ankles, his naked butt cheeks pressed against the wooden bench.

I stroked him slowly, applying just the right pressure until I got that growling groan of his that told me he was ready. Lifting my hips, I slid onto him—a slow, luxurious slide to heaven. We moaned in unison, my fingers digging into his broad shoulders as he grasped my hips. I started to ride him, slow and easy strokes at first, but it didn’t take long for me to build the pace. He felt so damn good inside me, my body was going crazy, my heart beating with a wild thunder.

Yanking out his ponytail, I ran my fingers into his waves, fisting two handfuls as the pressure inside me built to a crescendo. Josh’s hot lips sucked and teased the tender skin of my neck, his fingers digging into my butt as he increased the pace for us.

I wanted to cry out his name but couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. All I could feel was the amazing body between my thighs and the thunderstorm rolling through me.

Josh’s hold on my hips tightened, and I could sense he was close. I grabbed his face and planted my lips on his, wanting to feel his tongue dancing with mine as he came.

His mouth went slack, a groan firing out of him as he pulled my hips down and drove into me for one final push. I tipped my head back, relishing the way I could bring him to his knees. My body was still on fire, dancing flames lighting my core. A languid smile rose on my lips as his breath puffed against my neck.

“That was good, honey,” I whispered, biting my lip as I leaned forward and grinned at him.

“It’s not over yet, baby.” His voice was husky and deep as he wriggled beneath me, kicking off his boots and jeans before clutching me against him and rising from the stool. I wrapped my legs around him and couldn’t help a giggle as his butt-naked self carried me upstairs for round two.

Chapter Five

Josh

The bar had a low murmuring hum going on. It was often quieter on a Wednesday, unless an important game was on TV. Baseball season was in full swing, but people seemed more interested in watching my Rachel. She was perched on a stool up on the stage, one leg crossed over the other as she sang and strummed.

The crowd was thin, maybe twenty, which was why I didn’t mind her taking the floor and doing her thing.

Her voice had a sexy huskiness to it as she belted out “Fall From Grace” while strumming her acoustic guitar. It was a gift from her mama when she was only eleven years old and the most precious possession she owned. I grinned at her as she caught my eye.

Damn, she was beautiful. The way the light hit her thick blond curls gave her a halo. She’d braided her hair, and the thick locks hung over one shoulder. Tight jeans with rips in the knees hugged her legs, and the tank she was wearing looked so damn sexy, I couldn’t wait for closing. Wiping a spill of beer from the counter, I shoved the rag into my back pocket, glanced at table four yet again, and frowned. I wasn’t the only one drooling over my woman.

A guy, probably a bit older than me, had sauntered in about an hour ago. He was wearing them skinny jeans that made his legs look like toothpicks and a pair of shoes with points on the end…shiny, pretty boy shoes that didn’t belong in a bar like mine. His shirt was pressed, and his hair was slicked back with gel. All them things alone were enough to not like him, but the fact he hadn’t stopped checking out Rachel since she took the stage irked me real bad. I didn’t like the way his dark eyes roved her body or that greasy little smirk on his pretty boy lips.

“Who’re you glarin’ at?” Brock glanced over his shoulder.

He’d been sitting up with me since he got off work. He always did that on a Wednesday and I loved it. He’d been my best friend since kindergarten. He’d always been there, and he’d always be the one I’d call in a crisis. Heck, he was the one that sat with me for two days solid after I got the news that my old man had been blown to pieces in Iraq. I still didn’t get why that happened. He’d been three weeks away from coming home. I’d lived without him for close to a year. Every time we got to talk, he’d promise me he was coming home. We finally got ourselves a sure date…and he died five days later. I’d been ten years old…and totally devastated.

Brock hadn’t said one word after Uncle Amos told him. He just walked over to the couch and slumped down beside me, being exactly what I needed.

I scowled at Brock’s question and raised my chin toward table four. “That guy over there,” I mumbled. “You know him?”

“Oh, you mean pretty boy?”

I snorted out a laugh. “That’s the one.”

Brock took a slow pull of his beer before licking his bottom lip. He always did that to me, took his sweet time answering the important questions. I’m sure he knew it riled me something fierce, but he did it anyway.

“Yeah, I’m working on his car right now.”

I raised my eyebrows with a nod, silently asking for more.

“He’s been in town for his grandma’s funeral, although I wonder if it’s only to make sure he gets a claim in the estate.”

“He’s Tilly Peters’ grandson?”

“He sure is.”

I glared past Brock’s shoulder, watching the guy sip at his whiskey with a smug smile on his face. “I’ve never seen him around here before.”

“I don’t think he’s ever set foot in Payton.”

“So, a gold digger then.”

Brock shrugged, finishing off his bottle of Corona before tapping it on the bench—his quiet way of asking for another. I snatched a fresh one out of the fridge and opened it for him, plonking it down on the cardboard coaster.

Brock gave me a knowing stare, his lips rising into a grin. “You can’t kick him out for that, Grizz.”

“I wish he’d do something stupid so I could boot his behind right out that door.”

“He’s only lookin’.”

“He’s not just lookin’,” I grumbled.

My eyes narrowed as I watched the man. His smirk rose, his dark eyes gleaming as he applauded Rachel.

“Thank y’all. I’ll just sing one more and then I’ll let the jukebox take over.”

“Sing me something sweet, sugar!” Brock hollered from his stool.

I shoved his shoulder, and he nearly toppled off while the rest of the bar laughed. Pretty boy looked our way and I caught his eye, throwing him a steely glare that made him frown.

He turned back to Rachel as she started strumming “Come On Over.”

“This one’s for my grizzly bear.” She simpered, her eyebrows wiggling at me.

I grinned at her and shook my head. That was not the right song for her to be singing with that leering jackass watching her. She didn’t help matters by getting off the stool and dancing around the stage, moving those hypnotic hips and eliciting a few wolf whistles from the crowd.

Brock put his fingers in his mouth and would have whistled too if I hadn’t clipped him on the back of the head.

“What?” He laughed at me, rubbing his wayward curls.

I gave him a pleading look that made him turn to face me.

“Grizz, don’t be so worried.”

“Just fix that car as fast as you can.” I frowned.

“He’ll be out of here by tomorrow, don’t you worry.”

I nodded, my jaw clenching tight as Rachel’s song came to an end.

“Woohoo!” she cheered, laughing at the crowd as she took off her guitar and gently propped it against the piano. Skipping off the stage, she was heading my way when the last person I wanted talking to her stood from his chair and caught her attention.