Lost in Tennessee (21 page)

Butch came up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and drew his lips across her nearly bare shoulder. “I told you, you were beautiful.”

Kate shook her head in denial. “I’m all…yuck.”

“There isn’t one spot of you that’s yuck. I’ve been over every inch of you. I know what I’m talking about. I like the dress…and the boots.” Jeb called Butch away and left Kate looking at herself in the mirror.

She touched the spot where his lips had been. “I’ll take them,” she told the salesman. “And I’ll pay for his boots, too.”

Butch spoke with two young women who bounced with every word. Kate butted in long enough to get Butch to take off the boots he wore. The girls were ecstatic to have their photo taken with a shoeless Butch McCormick and swore their undying allegiance to him, like, forever.

The salesman cut the tags off the boots, and Kate handed them to Butch. He put them on while he listened to them list their favorite songs. Kate watched him, gentle and generous with his time with strangers, while she folded her old clothes into the store bag.

Tom walked up to the cash register to pay for his boots, looking at Kate as though she’d grown two heads.

“Those look good on you.” Kate used her arms to cover bare skin.

Tom swung a leg back and forth. “They’re lighter than my work boots.”

“No steel in the toes would make them lighter. The sole isn’t as thick. And they look better.”

“Let’s wait outside. I want to look around.”

Kate leaned against the building while Tom stood under a tree, blatantly grinning at every single female that walked by, age, race, shape, and size be damned. Nearly all of them grinned back. When he chose to use it, Tom had an animal magnetism that rivaled an African lion.

Hyde came out of the store empty-handed.

“Not buying today?” Kate asked.

“Nope. The ones I have are just fine. What’s he doing?” Hyde pointed to Tom with his chin.

“Flirting.”

His beefy arms crossed and an easy going smile on his face, Tom said something to every man-less woman that walked by. And it worked. They smiled at him, giggled, stopped, and talked.

When there was a lull, Hyde crossed the sidewalk. “How do you do that?”

Tom grinned. “The secret is to make every woman feel like she’s special.”

“Every woman
is
special,” Kate scoffed.

“Exactly my point,” Tom said. “Blondes, brunettes, hell, even redheads are beautiful. Tall, short, trim, curvy. How many are actually made to feel special? Appreciated? That’s what I do, I appreciate. Try it.”

“What if she ain’t my type?”

“You aren’t going to marry her. Just appreciate her.”

A thirty-something woman with business on her mind walked toward them with long strides. Hyde leaned against the tree and appreciated the way her heels clicked in a quick rapport. “Afternoon, ma’am. I hope you have a beautiful day.”

The woman snapped startled, green eyes to Hyde, and her face warmed into a friendly smile. “Thank you. I hope you do, too.” That smile stayed on her face while she walked past him and was still there when she glanced back over her shoulder.

Hyde scratched the back of his neck. “Well I’ll be damned.”

Trudy fell out of the store carrying a stuffed bag that nearly dragged on the ground. You would have thought she had netted the big game on a safari by the smile on her face. Jeb followed her out, glaring between Trudy and Butch. Butch came out last, shoving his wallet back into his pocket. He wrapped his arm around Kate’s waist and held her back from the others.

“Why did you do that?” He glowered down at her. “I was going to buy you the boots. And the dress.”

Kate withdrew subtly under the unexpected reprimand. “I buy my own clothes. I don’t need you to buy me stuff.”

Butch blinked at her. “I’m with a woman, I pay. That was the way I was raised. A man takes care of his woman. Not the other way around. You shouldn’t have bought me the boots.”

“What’s the big deal? You bought lunch.”

“A barbecue lunch is not the same as a new pair of boots.”

Kate pulled away, uncomfortable with his reaction, self-conscious about her gift. “You won’t take any money for the room, and you’ve been feeding Tom and me for a week.”

Butch’s voice stayed quiet but dropped an octave. “So this is some kind of payback?”

Kate walked faster, trying to escape his disapproval. “No. No, not like that at all. I like the way they look on you. You like them. You were busy, I have money. I wanted to do something nice for you. It’s not a big deal.”

“What are you two doing back there?” Trudy called. “I need to change before we leave for the Opry. Get a move on.”

Butch grew silent. Kate put some space between them as they worked their way up the hill to the Hermitage. She felt foolish, clomping up the hill in boots and a dress. She couldn’t wait to get to the room and put her jeans on. And a bra. She felt naked without a bra.

The others crossed the street, disappearing through the doors held open by the gloved doormen. She stopped at the curb, waited for a car to pass, and shuffled across the road.

“Katie. Wait.”

She stopped only because Butch took her arm, but she couldn’t look at him.

“You bought that dress for me, didn’t you? And the boots.” He lifted her chin until he held her gaze.

“I, uh, wanted to do something to, um, show you how you make me feel.”

He took her mouth with his, bending her back until her arms wrapped around his neck. He held her to him, assaulting her mouth until her full lips were swollen and body breathless. “Thank you,” he said against her throat. “This is one of the best presents I’ve ever gotten.”

T
he crowd went wild when Butch McCormick stepped out from the wings to host his portion of the Grand Ole Opry that night. Kate sat wide-eyed while little old ladies from as far away as Kansas swarmed into the aisles to snap pictures of the stars on stage. Butch wore his favorite faded jeans, the trendy button-down shirt Trudy had insisted upon, and the boots Kate gave him. “Y’all like my new boots? Fancy, aren’t they? I don’t think I’ll be bringing in the hay in these, but they sure are nice for dancing.”

Kate laughed as Butch did a quick shuffle, remembering what they had done just a few hours ago with their boots on. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

Butch danced over to his acoustic guitar and played a dreamy melody that quieted the audience right down. He sang of hot summer days and slow summer nights, of girls that tasted like sweet lemons and honeysuckle, of old friends and lost loves. The ladies adored him. Kate saw more than a few draw fingers over tear-filled eyes as they came to their feet.

Butch made a few jokes to dry the tears and traded the acoustic for electric. “It must be these boots. I just can’t stop dancing.”

He tore into a fast, upbeat tune. Some were on their feet, others in a seat, but everyone in the house moved.

Near the end of Butch’s set, Kate saw Jeb jerk to attention. He whispered to Tom and Hyde, and the three men slunk out of their seats. Kate watched them disappear through a door and reappear in the wings. Jeb approached a tall woman with a Barbie-doll figure and a yard of thick, blond hair.

Kate leaned in toward Trudy. “Who is Jeb talking to?”

Trudy looked past Jeb, her breath catching. When she spoke, she practically growled. “Fawn.”

Chapter Eleven

“A
re those real?” Kate asked.

“The diamonds are, the tits aren’t,” Trudy said. “She made him give them to her as a wedding present. She said they went with the dress.”

“The diamonds or the tits?”

“Both.”

Butch introduced the next performer—a little, old man of great renown whose last record was released a decade before Kate was born—and went off stage the opposite direction of his ex. Security joined Jeb, and Kate lost sight of them as they stepped deep into the wings. When the curtain fell on the second intermission, Kate and Trudy sprinted from their chairs to get backstage. A big man with a flat face, who looked as dense as he was thick, blocked the doorway.

“Do you know who I am?” Trudy demanded. “I am Butch McCormick’s best friend. I demand to see him.”

When that didn’t work, Trudy pouted, then begged, and finally cursed before lifting her chin in the air and walking to the bar. Two Jack and Diet Cokes later, she sat stewing about the fact that the security guards didn’t have her name and face committed to memory. The intermission ended, and they returned to their seats.

Kate watched the last portion of the show anxiously. She wanted to be with Butch but had no idea where he was or how to get to him. Each minute lasted an hour. She just sat with nothing to do but wait.

“W
e are going,” Butch insisted. “Everywhere.” Butch wanted to share Nashville with Kate and wasn’t going to let his ex-wife spoil it. He had brought Fawn here only a few years earlier, wanting to share his past with her, but she wasn’t interested in his past, only her future. He expected Kate to be different, and she didn’t disappoint. Kate stayed close to Butch, absorbing the scene. She asked about the old times, laughed at Butch’s audacity, made friends with every bartender, and left as a favored guest. Butch loved the way she jumped in with both feet and accepted the sometimes odd assortment of characters without reservation. Exuding a natural sexuality that captured and held people’s interest, she paid attention to each and every one of them, drawing out details, rewarding the far-fetched storytelling with hearty laughter. He had no idea why she didn’t previously have a man wrapped around her day and night.

While Kate explored new territory, Trudy hung on Butch’s arm as they bar hopped around the music district. Butch expected Kate to be a little jealous that Trudy kept coming between them. Maybe he wanted her to be a little jealous and hang on him herself, but when Katie smiled at him, they shared a private moment, one that lovers shared, one that transcended charming strangers and clingy friends. Butch gave a lock of her hair a tug, laughing together at the fish story that had grown six inches since he’d heard it last.

In one of his favorite little bars, Steel Strings, Trudy pushed Butch to the stage when the band took a break. He chuckled when Trudy pulled Kate off the bar stool at the back of the long room and raced ahead of the crowd to a pair of empty chairs at the front of the stage.

Butch sat on a stool, cradling a borrowed guitar. “Y’all don’t mind if I play around?” he asked the crowd.

The crowd cheered, and the owner, Donny Dowd, the man who had given him a start not so long ago, loved it when the patrons ordered another round instead of walking down the street. Flashes from cameras, phones, and tablets lit up the room like the Fourth of July.

“Let’s have a round of applause for the boys.”

Cheers rose from the crowd and bounced off the ceiling.

“I’ve been working on some new songs, and y’all are going to be my guinea pigs.”

The crowd clapped and whistled, egging Butch on. “This one doesn’t have a name yet. It’s about my parents and the way my mother looks when my father walks into the room.” A romantic, hopeful song spun from the guitar as Butch sang about the light in her eyes, the spring in her step, and the reason she laughed. How he was the one she reached out for, the one she held on to.

Butch finished the song, and the ladies went wild. They bounded to their feet in a standing ovation and elbowed the men they were with until they stood, too.

A tall blonde with huge rocks stepped onto the stage, a full plastic cup in hand. “Looks like you have another hit, Butch.”

“Fawn.” Butch steeled himself. He had hoped the conversation Jeb had with Fawn at the Opry would settle things for the night. A flair for drama enhanced Fawn’s talent as an actress. She could make a scene like the best of them. With the divorce now public, that’s the way she would view this, him—as a scene to be made. He had a choice: the high road or the low road. “Everyone, you know Fawn Jordan. Fawn, this is everyone.”

Fawn stalked across the small stage. Butch knew from the look in her eye that trouble came with her. With a quick flick of the wrist, her cup emptied. Butch pushed the borrowed guitar out of the splash zone in the nick of time. The well-aimed drink soaked his hair. Ice fell to the floor, bouncing across the worn stage.

Butch took a deep breath and thought he should have seen that coming. At the back of the room, Jeb and security rushed to their feet, but the going was rough as the audience clogged the aisle to watch celebrity lives crash and burn. On his own for a few more minutes, Butch ignored Fawn and talked to the audience.

“I don’t think she liked my song. I thought it was pretty good, myself.”

Fawn pitched forward at the hips. “Don’t you dare pull that bullshit, Butch McCormick. You sit up here, painting a picture of a good man, a family man, when you are nothing but a selfish, egotistical, backstabbing son-of-a-bitch. You think you can just toss me out? I’m not one of your bitches, bouncing across the stage to kiss your feet just to be thrown out in the morning. The minute you’re not the most famous person under the roof you toss me out. I’m your wife. You have responsibilities to me.”

Butch knew he shouldn’t say anything. You didn’t win the battle by sticking your head out in a gun fight. He knew that. But you didn’t win by keeping your head down and never firing a shot, either. “Likewise.”

Fawn’s eyes flashed, and Butch knew she understood the deeply layered accusation. She never wanted a husband, she wanted an agent. She insulted everything he believed in when she used their marriage as a career booster. With the flatness in his voice and the resignation in his eyes, he told her.

Fawn arched her back, outrage and alcohol straining her made up face. “You no good son-of-a-bitch.”

Fawn raised her hand to slap him. Butch saw it, expected it, but Kate leapt onto the stage to stand squarely in front of Butch. Trudy clamored up onto the stage to run to Butch’s side.

“It’s time for you to go,” Kate said, in a controlled, neutral voice.

“Katie.” Butch calmly set the guitar back on the stand. “Go on and sit down. Don’t get in the middle of this.”