Sweet Talk Me (26 page)

There was no way she could sleep now. She called Carmela back and told her Penn called.

“Forget about her,” Carmela said. “Let’s talk only about the wedding plans. Are you stressed or excited?’

“Neither,” True said. “Honestly. I don’t know why except I just want to get it behind me. It’s only a wedding. The important part comes after.”

Carmela sighed. “You’re so wise. I, on the other hand, am an idiot.”

True sat cross-legged and pulled a pillow to her stomach. “Why?”

“I slept with Gage.”

“I suspected shenanigans. I wasn’t sure of the extent. But wow.”

“I know,” Carmela said, “but it was great. And then he ruined it. He said he wouldn’t text me or call me. He’d read modern women need their space. And he gave me the opportunity to go home. So I did.”

“I’m so sorry,” True said. “But we both know he’s different. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s awkward, you know?”

“I know.”

“Do you really like him?”

“Yes. I can’t believe it, but I do.” She sighed a most unhappy sigh. “Getting in that tomato fight changed everything. He laughed. He took his shirt off. He was a primo specimen of manhood, and I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t noticed all those times he came in the store.”

True liked him, too. “So what that he’s kind of clueless sometimes? What guy isn’t? He’s smart and good looking. And I can’t believe that he’d be the type of guy who’d use a girl. He’s too sweet for that.”

“That’s what I thought, too. He was adorably shy. And … the sex. It was incredible.”

“Really?” True was reluctant to admit to herself that she was jealous, but she was.

“I’m not exaggerating. I’ll remember it forever. Even if the rest of the night sucked.”

“Oh, boy.” True could so relate. She’d never forgotten her night with Harrison, either. “So what’s next?”

“Nothing. I’m not going to chase him.”

“But he might need help understanding how to be in a relationship.”

“Maybe so. But do I want to be the woman who teaches him how—only to be dumped by him later so he can use all the great things I taught him on someone else?” Carmela was getting worked up.

“No, Carmela,” True said softly. “You can’t let your old boyfriend in New York make you bitter. Stop right now.”

“Okay.” Carmela hiccupped a little. “I’ll try. But I’m tired of losing men I love.”

“You didn’t love him.”

“But I loved my dad. And he was taken way too soon.”

“He was a hero. Cling to that.”

“I do,” Carmela whispered.

“He wouldn’t want you to give up hope.”

“I know.”

True could hear the guys and Weezie coming upstairs.

“In 1941, German scientists accidentally created a polyurethane with bubbles in it,” Gage was saying.

“Enough about sponges,” Weezie said next. “Did you know that Ireland’s
The Late Late Show
is the world’s longest-running talk show?”

“So?” Gage said. “In 1954, the first commercial production of foamed polyurethane began. From there, our modern kitchen sponges evolved.”

“La-di-effin’-da to both of you,” said Harrison. “I just want to know who won the Braves–Yankees game and what the weather’s gonna be like tomorrow morning.”

True knew why. For their paddleboarding expedition that wasn’t going to happen.

“I almost kissed Harrison,” she confessed to Carmela.

“Damn those Gamble boys.”

They both started to laugh—but stopped at the same time.

“We’ll be okay,” True whispered, her eyes stinging just a little. “We don’t need to analyze it to death. We just need to move forward. Both of us.”

“Yeah,” Carmela answered back, sniffling. “Take each day as it comes.” A few seconds went by. “Good night.”

“Good night.” True hung up, crept to her bedroom door as if she were deathly ill—because she felt weak and depressed now—and turned off her light.

When she crawled back into bed, she stared into the darkness a long time, wondering why Dubose hadn’t called or texted—and why she hadn’t tried, either.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Harrison might have his flaws, but one thing he’d never done was lie to himself. He had feelings for True that had never gone away. He’d been sure he had it all under control, but he didn’t. Last night at the dance had been a close call.

He had to leave town, or stop the wedding.

All night long he thought about what he would do. Cursed a blue streak in his head. Tossed and turned. But when the sun came up, the plain and simple truth came clear. He had to go. Stopping the wedding was a dumb idea. He’d only bring True heartache if he tore her away from Dubose a second time. She wasn’t the innocent girl she was on prom night. She was a survivor—a smart woman making her own choices. Who was he to interfere with that?

And the kicker was that even if he did stop the damned wedding, he wouldn’t know what to do with her once she was free. He had feelings for her, yes. But that wasn’t enough. She needed tending, like a beautiful, prized rose. He’d be the gardener from hell, leaving her to find sunshine and rain where she could.

So he was going to leave. But before he did, he’d help her pull off this wedding. She didn’t have a father to walk her down the aisle. He sure didn’t feel fatherly toward her, but she deserved to have a man in her corner who cared about her, supported her, and was willing—in the end—to let her go where she truly wanted to be.

And if that was with Dubose, he had no right to object.

Especially when he was Mr. Hotshot Country Music Star with a huge career and a manager and a studio waiting for him to pay attention to the
Billboard
charts again. He wasn’t that young boy on the dock anymore, catching blue crabs in a net. Now he was scooping up CMA awards and Grammys. It was nice coming back and checking on the home place, seeing all the people he used to know, but he didn’t belong. He wasn’t sure that he ever had.

Dan called while he was in the shower. He wrapped a towel around his middle, stuck the phone to his ear, opened the bathroom door to go to his room, and met True in the hall.

“Hi,” she said, her face pale as a sheet.

“Hey,” he said, only a little embarrassed. Because she was in a pair of tiny pink polka-dotted shorts and one of those flimsy tees that clung to her boobs.

Damn
, he thought, and stretched it out to two syllables, too—the ultimate expression of male appreciation of the feminine form. Then decided he’d better channel Terence Jones. Terence Jones wouldn’t give a shit about her boobs.

“You there?” Dan shouted down the line.

“Yeah, hang on a minute.” Harrison put the phone on his chest and grinned down at True. “Tide’s up. Will you be ready to get on the paddleboards in half an hour?”

“I told you I’m driving.” She stood tippy-toe on one foot and then the other. Classic True balking. She’d done it on the dock at Sand Dollar Heaven all the time when she didn’t want to jump into the creek. She had a thing about encountering crabs if her foot touched the pluff mud. High tide was the preferred time to swim. It meant she was “safe.” But on a really hot day, if it was only mid-tide, she’d do the toe dance.

“Come on,” he said. “You need some color before the wedding. You’re looking mighty pale.”

“I
want
to be pale. Like Nicole Kidman.”

“But her kind of pale’s different. You look a little off. You need some sunglow. And face it, you need to get on the water. When was the last time you were out there?”

Her expression drooped. “Too long,” she said. “I honestly don’t remember.”

“See? I’m in the same boat.”

“Hah.”

“We make terrible landlubbers. We get grouchy if we don’t get on the water at least once a decade. Don’t you think?” He meant it, too. He hadn’t realized until he came back here how well he could think when he was on the water.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I thought that getting grouchy was just us … growing up. Becoming responsible citizens.”

“Nope. And the truth is, I need to write some songs. Maybe being on the water will help. We can scratch each other’s backs, so to speak.”

“
No
.” She was doing everything she could not to look down at his exposed belly. Or his towel.

“You know what I mean. It’s an expression.” But he was having trouble role-playing that he was Terence. All he could think about was pulling her into his room, putting Honey’s only tiara on her head, and having his way with her.

She thought some more. “All right. But—”

“What? Are you worried about crabs? We’re going at high tide. If you fall off the paddleboard—which you won’t—your feet won’t touch the bottom of the creek.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just”—she shook her head—“last night … we had an issue. So you have to move out. Not Gage, though. He can stay.”

Harrison put the phone to his mouth. “Dan, I’ll call you back.” He hit the
OFF
button, but not before he heard Dan squawking like a chicken.

True’s gorgeous baby blues were big and troubled.

“That was Patsy Cline’s fault,” Harrison said gently. “It’s why she’s a legend. You and I both know how hard we’ve worked the past ten years. We have plans. And we’re not going to let anything stop us. Especially feeling sentimental about something that happened long ago.”

True nodded. “Exactly. I’m glad you get that.”

“Do I ever,” he said with a self-deprecating grin. “So let’s get this wedding going, shall we? We need a new checklist.”

“I’ve made one up.” She looked a little more chipper.

“And if you still want me to move out, I will.” He meant it, too. “The last thing I want is for you to feel stress before the big day.” Terence would say something just like that.

“Me, either.” She headed to the bathroom. “I’ll think about it,” she said over her shoulder. “We’ve had some fun with you and Gage here. I think it’s good for Weezie. It takes her mind off the wedding. She’s not too keen on it, as you know.”

“I can help her with that,” Harrison volunteered with a sick feeling in his stomach. He hated the idea of True’s marrying Dubose, too. Hated it so much he nearly told her then and there that no way, no how was he going to stand by while she married the biggest jackass Biscuit Creek had ever produced.

But then he remembered that she was a grown woman with a good head on her shoulders. She’d have chosen him if she’d wanted him.

And she hadn’t.

Lord knows he was sending out vibes right now … if she went wild and pulled off his towel, he wouldn’t object in the least.

“You already have helped with Weezie, and I thank you.” Her face was too serious, poor thing. She really needed this paddleboarding excursion.

And a roll in the hay
, his treacherous mind added. But that was none of his business.

“See?” he said. “We’ve got our priorities straight.”

She granted him a small smile. “I’ll join you in the kitchen in twenty minutes.” She paused. “Are you wearing a bathing suit?”

“No. I don’t have one. But I wouldn’t anyway. I’m not gonna fall in.”

“Then I won’t wear one, either,” she said.

Darn. He wondered if it would have been a one-piece or a bikini.

Her face brightened. “I forgot to tell you.” She looked furtively around. “Gage and Carmela … are involved,” she whispered. “I’m only telling you in case Gage needs support. Carmela said that he basically told her to go home, afterward”—she winced, probably because she was making it clear exactly how far they’d gone—“and said he’d never text or call her.”

“You’re kidding.”

True shook her head. “I know he said that because he thinks he’ll be overwhelming her. He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings.” She paused. “I might have said more than I should.”

“No, I’m glad you told me.” He liked how she assumed Gage was a good guy—which he was. “He told me he really likes her. He’s not a kid, so I’m not gonna get in the way. I’ll hint around, but if he doesn’t bring it up himself, there’s not much I can do.”

“That’s fair,” she said.

Harrison sighed. “Carmela’s a good girl. I hope this works out.”

In his room, he flung off his towel and called Dan in the buff. “I’m naked,” he said.

“Oh, gross. Put something on, will ya?”

Harrison chuckled. “Nope. It means you’ll say what you have to say and then leave me alone. How can I write songs with you bugging me?”

He folded his free arm across his chest and peeked out his window at the tomato fields. An early-morning mist was already being burned off by the sun. It was going to be a hot one today.

“
This
is bugging you?” Dan said. “A few calls here and there?”

“Yes. Don’t forget—I’m naked.”

“All right, all right! They want you on that singing competition show as a judge. You know that one you especially like?”

“Yes,” said Harrison, his wet hair dripping down his neck. “Is there some reason we’re not using the name?”

“It’s kind of like saying
Voldemort
. You just don’t want to jinx things. Are you interested? This would catapult your career to the next level.”

“I’ve been catapulting for ten years. How many levels are there?”

“More. I promise you. The exposure you’ll get here will make you more mainstream than ever. That translates into a huge bump in sales. And hey—you’ll be on a panel with some great stars in their own right. That should be fun for you. I know you like fun.”

Harrison sighed. “Are you reading that off an index card?”

“Yes, but because you’re naked, I edited out the entire middle about how much you’ll love spending more time on the West Coast.”

Harrison scratched his neck. “I’m interested,” he said, and was surprised he didn’t feel tremendously excited. “What does the studio say?”

“They’re willing to go with it. As long as you honor your commitments to them in a timely fashion. Which means you’ll be juggling a lot of balls.”

“We’ll talk about it soon. I’ll stew on it for a few weeks.”

“We don’t have that luxury. The show producers need an answer this week.”

“No, they don’t. You know the pressure game deal makers play. Handle it.”