Lost in Tennessee (23 page)

Kate appeared in the doorway. “You name it. Fawn’s a bitch. You’re a cheat. She’s so sweet and innocent. You’re a hometown hero. They wanted to know about Trudy. Some tagged her as being with you before Fawn, wondered if you slept with her before and during your marriage.”

That didn’t surprise him. The way Trudy clung generated those types of questions. “What about you?”

Kate pursed her lips. “What about me?”

“Did they pick up on you?” He dug out his toothbrush and paste and made use of them.

“No. I told you. No one noticed me. Why?”

Barefoot, Butch walked across the room and gathered Kate into his arms. “We need to talk.”

Kate pushed away. “You sound serious.”

Butch led her into the main room, sat on the chair, and pulled her into his lap. “You remember when we were standing on the sidewalk last night? I told you we had a relationship.”

“I remember.”

He smiled at the wealth of suspicion in those two words. “Well, do you agree we have a relationship?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “We have sex, a lot of sex. You don’t do that without a relationship. I don’t do that without a relationship. But…”

Butch held her in place when she squirmed. “But?”

She slapped her thighs, her voice strained. “What does the word ‘relationship’ mean? Does it mean having warm feelings for each other? Does it mean being exclusive? Does it mean calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yes. For me it’s all of those and more.”

Kate shook her head. “Not for me. Not this fast. Not ever. Look, I don’t come from a nice quiet upbringing on a farm that’s been in the family for more generations than I can count. I come from a world where nothing is permanent. You do a job, then you move on. You work with people, then you move on. Do I have feelings for you? Yes, absolutely. I told you I do. How that’s possible in this short time, I’m not sure, but yeah, they are there. But what does that mean in the long run? I just don’t know.”

Butch laced his fingers through hers, and she instantly tightened. They were opposites: he willing to leap for the opportunity to love, she thinking, hesitating, and not knowing what he saw so simply in her eyes. “We’re exclusive. We agree on that. It’s me for you, and you for me. Has been almost since you broke down in my driveway.”

She shifted again, trying to put space between them. “That’s ridiculous. Love at first sight.”

A smile curled the edge of his lips. What she did to him was ridiculous all right. “Sight. Sound. Scent. Touch. Taste. You invaded all of my senses.” He placed his fingers under her chin and drew her around to face him. “And I touch yours. Admit it.”

He felt her breath catch. When her hands fisted in his T-shirt, he kissed her deeply. Butch held her there, making sure he flooded all of her senses. “Admit it.”

She kneaded his shoulder, giving back what she got. “God. You do. Yeah, you do.”

When it came to the bedroom, his Katie had no inhibitions, but when it came to affairs of her heart, she acted like a skittish colt.

“Butch, it doesn’t change my story. When this building is done, I’ll be off to the next project. What happens then?”

Definitely skittish. “How long? How long ’til the project’s done?”

“End of the year.”

“That gives me eight months to show you what commitment means.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “But first, we have to face a reality of my life.”

To Butch’s mind, Kate was a civilian, a professional woman used to coming and going with no one to answer to except her family. Overnight, she became the girlfriend of an entertainer, a public figure with little privacy. They had an advantage in that the press, the media, had little interest in non-public relations. In short, Kate wouldn’t sell newspapers or advertisements. Thank heaven for small favors. She listened intently as he instructed her on living a public life.

“But, they haven’t put us together.” Kate sat up taller, her fingers playing with his shirt. “If anything, they think you and Trudy are an item. I can just leave. Walk right out the door, the way I came in. Then you can come out, shaking hands, flashing that little boy smile of yours, kissing babies, and we’re both good.”

“Little boy smile of mine?”

“You know, the one that gets you out of trouble. Think about it.”

Butch did and liked the idea. He called Jeb, Tom, Trudy, and Hyde up. “The media is outside waiting for me.”

Trudy sported dual black eyes. “Look what that bitch did to me. I can’t be photographed, Butch. Not like this.”

Jeb stepped next to his brother. “I’ll go out with Butch. Hyde, you take everyone else out thirty minutes after we leave. Butch? You ready to go?”

“One minute. Katie, can I have a word?” Butch led her into the bathroom, the only private space in the crowded room. He closed the door behind them and kissed her until every nerve in his body fired in triplicate.

Kate’s dreamy eyes looked into his. “That’s a word? Someday, you’ll have to give me a whole sentence.”

“I’ll give you a whole paragraph later tonight.” Satisfied he would be on her mind, Butch left the bathroom and picked up his bag. “Ready, Jeb.”

The elevator to the lobby crawled down the shaft. Butch’s heart raced as he stepped into the swarm of professional and amateur media as much as when he stepped on stage. Just another show.

Chapter Twelve

“M
orning, y’all. Well, I guess it’s afternoon.”

“Butch, what happened between you and Fawn?”

“Butch, who is the blonde you were with?”

“Butch, were you sleeping with her while married?”

The questions ranged from common to rude to crude.

“Fawn always has put on one hell of a show. Last night was no exception. As you all surmised, we are splitting after two years of marriage. Fawn is an exceptional actress. I wish her nothing but personal happiness and professional success.”

“What happened, Butch?”

Butch rubbed his hand over his heart. “Whatever happens between two people?”

“She accused you of cheating.”

“She did. I’m not going to drag our personal life out for y’all except to say I don’t cheat. I don’t believe in it.”

“Are you ready for the tour?”

A flood of relief went through Butch. The quick change of topic told him he was riding on top of the wave. “Details are being finalized. Y’all can check my website for the tour dates. Rehearsals start soon, and we’ll kick it off right here in Nashville.”

“You played new music last night. Are you going to play new music on tour?”

Butch rubbed his chin. “Now, that’s an idea. I’ll have to give it some thought. I’ll play the favorites, of course, and music from my recent album, but it could be fun to play new music.”

The valet pulled Butch’s truck to the curb, a finite end to the impromptu press conference. Butch moved to the passenger door while Jeb took care of the valet. “Y’all, that’s my ride. I appreciate your time. See you next time around.”

S
unday evening, Tom shared a specialty of his—chicken parmesan. The house smelled of garlic and cheese and a pungent sauce—in a word: delicious. Kate set the table, tossed the salad, and otherwise stayed out of Tom’s way. With the high drama of the previous night, everyone had gone their own way, searching for a bit of peace and quiet. Tom ended that with two words.

“Dinner’s on!”

Jeb set his book on the couch and wandered to the table, staring at Tom’s T-shirt as he sat. “‘Will cook for sex.’ Does that work for you?”

Tom flashed his killer smile. “Don’t need it to, but it’s a nice perk for the ladies.”

“Don’t get him started, Jeb.” Kate looked to the stairs. “I’ll go get Butch.”

Music coming from the second floor ended, and Butch ran down the stairs. “Something smells great.” But Butch’s face fell when he saw the dish waiting for him. He poked the meat with a fork.

Tom pressed his brows together. “Don’t you like Italian?”

Butch flashed a glance at Kate and raised an eyebrow to Tom. “You cooked, right?”

Tom caught the glance and broke into a belly laugh. “You didn’t eat anything she cooked, did you? Rule number one: do not eat Kate’s cooking.”

Kate and Tom had joked for years about Kate’s inability in the kitchen. If she couldn’t beat them, she’d bluff like she could, so she lifted her chin haughtily. “It was your recipe.”

“Honey, it takes more to make a good meal than just a recipe.”

“Oh, yeah, hot shot? What does it take?”

Tom’s cell phone rang. “I don’t know. But you don’t have it. Excuse me. I need to take this.”

At the other end of the table, Jeb ate like a starving man. He twirled the pasta and shoved golf ball sized forkfuls into his mouth. With each bite, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Easy there, Clyde, or you and that pasta will need to get a room.” Butch cut a piece of the succulent chicken. “Speaking of which, are you staying here again?”

Jeb used bread to mop sauce from the plate, his face intent on his task. “Yep. Someone has to keep an eye on y’all.”

Kate knew Jeb had an apartment in town, but he liked to stay here. The hot meals had something to do with it, but Kate suspected there was more.

“This is some good eating,” Jeb said. “You care if I take some for my lunch tomorrow?”

Butch grinned at Kate. “My mother spoiled him. No PB&J for her Jebediah. She packed him ‘big boy’ lunches. Sandwiches, potato salad, fruit, pies. That’s what he’s used to. It also explains why he’s packed on the pounds since he’s been home.”

Jeb pointed his fork at his brother. “That’s easy for you to say, Clyde. You have a personal trainer. Try working for a living, and see how easy it is to keep the pounds at bay.”

“I work damned hard, and you know it.”

Tom poked his head around the corner. “Kate, your father wants to talk to you.”

Kate rolled her eyes but followed Tom into the kitchen. She would take the high road. This time, she wouldn’t sink to her father’s levels. Kate accepted Tom’s phone. “Hi, Dad. How is your weekend?”

“It would have been a hell of a lot better if Cicada would pay their bills.” Thirty years of yelling over heavy machinery polished her father’s gravelly voice. The lack of edge didn’t soften the effect. It intensified it, like Marlon Brando’s in
The Godfather
.

She had missed an argument with her father, thanks to a concrete pour. She’d hoped he’d forget about it, but that was like hoping an elephant forgot his trunk. “Dad, the invoice went in exactly when it was supposed to. You can’t expect Cicada to pay in a week. By contract, they have thirty days.” Kate picked at her ragged nails, chipped and rough from days on the construction site, irritated that her hands looked so bad. She paced while she listened to her father rant on about credit and unpaid bills. “Dad, you aren’t listening to me. There isn’t a credit problem. There aren’t unpaid bills. I send you the spreadsheet every week. The accounts are up-to-date.”

Tom leaned against the counter. She knew he stood in silent support for Kate’s non-stop battles with her father.

She stopped short. “You can’t expect me to drive all the way to Detroit to show you how to read a spreadsheet. Get Tony to do it. I’ve got work to do here. We need to make these pours this week to stay on schedule.”

Her father’s voice pumped out of the miniature speaker. “This might be your goddamned project, Kate, but it’s
my
goddamned company. I’m not cutting one more check, not one more, little girl, until I’m convinced we’re on solid ground.”

Kate closed her eyes as resolve set in. She did a good job. A damned good job. If he was too stubborn to see it, he could find someone else as a project manager, as a daughter. “I’m not doing it. I have a full schedule here, where the work is.”

“You are my daughter, and you work for me. If I say come home, the only thing you say is ‘yes, sir.’ Understood?”

A tear rolled down Kate’s cheek. “Half of this company is mine. I’m not coming. Yell, scream, swear, cut me off, but get it through your head that I’m running this job.” She lowered a trembling hand, swept her thumb over the “end” button and handed the phone back to Tom. “We may not be related anymore.”

“Not likely.” Tom caught her neck in the crux of his arm and mussed her hair. “Come on. Let’s finish dinner.”

Kate ducked under his arm and stepped toward the back door. Each little battle with her father cost her psychologically and emotionally until she was an empty shell. She needed time to recharge her internal battery. “I’m done. I’ll be out in the barn.”

Kate stood in short sleeves gazing in wide wonder at the pastel chalk drawing sky. The blurred lines between blue, pink, purple, and orange showed how opposites could be good together. One didn’t yield to the other but complimented, making the whole much more vivid than either could be alone.

She wanted to be that pink, that orange, full of life, vitality.

Instead, she had cultivated a role as an outsider in life. One that didn’t warrant a place in the sky. She was beige, and beige didn’t belong in sunsets.

In the barn, Kate turned the light on over the work bench and took the to-do list from where it hung on the peg board. She had crossed most of the items off. Two had been added in Tom’s handwriting. One sat on the workbench, a chair with as much wobble as a rocking chair. “You just need a little TLC. Then you’ll be good as new.”

Working with her hands usually soothed her, giving her a feeling of accomplishment, but not today.

When are you going to learn, Kate? Some things are meant to be done by a man’s hands.

“My hands are just as capable as any man’s.” She looked at the hands that worked for a living. She didn’t wear nail polish. She didn’t have nails to polish. Those fingers worked a loose joint, and the leg came off in her hand. “Shit.”

What are you doing? Look first. How many times do I have to tell you to use your brain first?

“I know. I know, I know, I know.”

The fuck you do. Look at the mess you made.

The chair, in three pieces, spread across the bench. The wood of one leg split along the grain.

Nice job. You just made bad worse.