Unstoppable (Fierce) (19 page)

“He’s also a military vet that gave his leg for service of his country. That’s big with my Daddy. It’s not like he’s some dirty garage band singer who smokes pot during the day and plays music all night long. Even with tattoos, Jace is perfect. And Daddy will see that when Jace comes to dinner tonight.”

My eyes flew wide. He hadn’t told me that. “He’s coming to dinner tonight?”

She nodded. “I sent him a text just a bit before you got here. He said he couldn’t wait.” She grinned from ear to ear.

After a lazy afternoon of swimming, we ran up the stairs to get ready for dinner. She dragged me into her room to help her pick out something to wear. Shelby’s bedroom was a pink paradise that better fit a teenager than a 22-year-old woman, with posters on the wall and stuffed animals on the bed. Her walk-in closet was packed nearly wall to wall, and she stood in her matching underwear as she pulled out choice after choice. She’d wriggle into a top and then model it in front of her full-length hanging mirror, carefully scrutinizing herself from every angle. She’d rip it off shortly after, citing flaws with how it looked or how her body wasn’t quite right – none of which I could see myself, and I didn’t think the dim lighting she insisted upon was the cause.

Twenty minutes – and two dozen outfits later – and I headed back to my room across the hall to scrounge through my suitcase for something to wear
. Inevitably I did what she did; I put on and took off several outfits before I settled on one that made me feel less fat and gross.

And it was really easy to be fat and gross after watching someone like Shelby rip her own, seemingly flawless, appearance apart.
If she could think that about herself, then what chance did I have to feel confident, worthwhile or valuable?

Despite feeling like a goddess the previous two days with the man of my dreams, now I felt like an ugly stepsister next to her blonde, thin perfection.

My self-esteem took an even bigger hit when I met Dr. Coy Goddard, Shelby’s father. He was a tall, imposing man who stood 6’3, with jet black hair gelled precisely to look like some rich, slick televangelist. His eyes were as bright blue as his daughter’s, but they were steely sharp and cut right through me the moment I stood before him, presented like a calf to slaughter.

He shook my hand, but his eyes were hard and cold as they ran across me. “Mrs. Nix,” he greeted formally. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thanks for having me,” I said, fighting off the ridiculous urge to curtsy, as though he were king of the manor.

“I hope we can offer someth
ing more comfortable than some tiny hotel bed,” he said with a smile that never quite reached his eyes. “Give someone like you some room to spread out.”

Had I just been insulted?

“Your home is lovely,” I assured.

He gave me a curt nod and then stalked off to find his wife in the kitchen. I turned to Shelby. “He’s… formidable.”

She laughed. “That’s Daddy.”

Things got even tenser as we all sat in the living room, waiting for
Jace’s arrival. Coy wasn’t any more welcoming as he sat in the leather recliner next to the stone fireplace. Instead he linked his fingers together and shot off questions to me like I was interviewing for a job.

“How is your health, Jordi?” he wanted to know. “I understand that you’ve had difficulty both on the show and on the tour.”

“My back went out,” I supplied. “But I’m doing much better thanks to physical therapy.”

“It must be difficult for someone with your disadvantages to keep up with the hectic pace of a tour,” he said. “I’m surprised your husband agreed to let you
do it.”

Agreed to let me
, I repeated to myself with an inward snicker. I was his meal ticket. He didn’t give a shit about my health – just my bank account. But of course I couldn’t say as much to Dr. Goddard. “He wants me well, of course,” I admitted. “But the show must go on.”

Dr. Goddard turned to S
helby. “This is why we didn’t want you signed up with Graham Baxter,” he told her.

“Daddy,” she said with the shake of her head.

“You think he’d care about your medical history? He’d just work you to the ground. He didn’t become a millionaire letting the little guy off the hook.”

“Graham is very supportive,” I intervened, feeling the need to stand up for my mentor, my friend… essentially my godfather. “And his girlfriend is a nurse. They would never jeopardize our health.”

His eyes were stone cold as he glared back at me. “They certainly let you collapse on stage during a live performance,” Dr. Goddard countered, angered that he had been challenged.

“That was not their fault. That was my fault. I was pushing myself to unreasonable limits with a trainer who only cared about some numbers on a scale.”

“Speaking as a medical professional, I can assure you that someone needs to care about those ‘numbers on the scale.’ If you were my patient, I’d certainly advise you to get your weight under control before tackling any TV show or tour.”

“Daddy!”
Shelby said sharply.

“Someone has to tell her,” he told Shelby. He turned back to me. “You’re in an industry now that doesn’t much care for the word ‘no.’ Celebrities are nothing but entitled hedonists who believe they can live like they want, do what they want, and never face any consequences for their excessive behavior. These people don’t care about you. If they did, they’d clearly see you are in crisis and do something to help you. As far as I’m concerned, the trainer was the only one of the bunch who had your best interests at heart.”

I gulped down any response. He knew next to nothing about my situation, but he was degrading me and my choices as if he had any authority to do so, essentially shaming me and insulting me because of his need to be right. Before the berating could continue, Jace arrived. It was enough to turn Coy Goddard’s frown upside down. The minute Jace appeared in the doorway, Coy was off his chair and on his feet, a smile cracking his face practically in two.

I stayed on the couch while Shelby jumped up to give Jace a big hug. He accommodated her before he walked over to where I sat, pulling me up into a similar hug. I felt like I stepped inside a fortress the minute his arms closed around me.

We all sat together on the sofa while Sherry put the finishing touches on dinner. Jace sat in between us, with his arms along either side of the couch. Fortunately, Coy was done raking me across the coals. He wanted to know all about Jace and his service in the military.

It was as though the women disappeared the minute another man was in the
room to carry the conversation, and his ability to respect the person he spoke to increased exponentially.

Shelby seemed to sense this and hopped to her feet. “I’m going to help Mama with dinner,” she announced, grabbing my hand to drag me along behind her.

Sherry was much more accommodating than her husband. She smiled and laughed and never said word one about my weight. Instead she piled the table full of deep fried goodies like okra and chicken fried steak. By the time the men joined us, we had a southern feast on the table, with homemade mashed potatoes, cream gravy, more biscuits from scratch and a salad with all kinds of veggies, topped with good ol’ ranch dressing.

It smelled and looked amazing, but I was careful as I filled my plate. Dr. Goddard’s eyes were watching my every move. He didn’t turn away until he was satisfied that I filled the plate mostly with salad, instead of all the food I wanted to eat.

There was enough food for an army, and every single person present aside from me dug in with gusto. I ate one vegetable bite at a time to fill up on something more suitable in the eyes of the good doctor, ultimately filling up on the vintage of the South – sweet tea.

I even turned away dessert entirely, which was a hot, bubbling dish of bread pudding with raisins and nuts. Just smelling the warm, rich cinnamon made my stomach growl, but I decided not to indulge after Dr. Goddard admonished Shelby for taking just a spoonful too much.

Out of my peripheral vision, I could see that Jace took note of this but he politely said nothing. Instead he turned to Sherry, to thank her for the wonderful meal.

“Thank you, Jace,” she said with a hospitable smile. “It’s the least I can do for you after your sacrifices for our country.”

“I cleared my schedule for tomorrow,” Coy announced. He turned to Jace. “I thought maybe we could spend some time together down at the shooting range.”

“
I’m sorry, sir. I don’t shoot recreationally,” Jace informed him calmly but decisively.

“An army man who doesn’t shoot?”
Coy repeated, as if he couldn’t imagine such a thing.

“I’m not in the Army anymore,” Jace smiled diplomatically.

“Do you ride?” Coy countered.

“He rides beautifully,” Shelby gushed. “His mother owns horses. We rode while we were in Texas.”

“Then it’s settled,” Coy decided. “We’ll all go horseback riding tomorrow.” He glanced at me. “But of course, you can’t ride, can you, Jordi?”

I gulped. “I probably shouldn’t,” I answered. Then added, “because of my back,” in case he was trying to suggest that I
was too fat to ride, which is what it felt like.

“Then maybe we can find something else to do,” Jace suggested.
“That way no one is left out.”

“No, no,” Coy said with the wave of a hand. “Sherry can’t ride either. But she’d never stop us from enjoying it. She’s a good woman,” he added as he winked at his wife, whose head was downcast.

“I’m fine,” I told Jace. “Andy is coming into town tomorrow. She mentioned something about meeting her grandmother. I can just hang out with them.”

His eyes searched mine. “Are you sure?”

I nodded.

Shelby was beside
herself. “I can’t wait for you to meet my horse,” she told Jace, then launched into giddy plans of what they would do the following day. I shrank back against the chair and stared at the delicious food I dared not touch.

Jace stayed late, commandeered by Coy to chat about guy stuff
like politics and world affairs. We just sat next to him, female dressing on either side of the couch as the two men danced around the fact they couldn’t be more different. Despite his being a war vet, Jace was a pacifist who had very open-minded points of view. He held his ground without being disrespectful, and even shied away from making any definitive statement on certain topics. He didn’t justify his opinion or challenge Coy’s.

“So Shelby tells me you’re from a small town in Texas.
Your folks are conservative, I take it?”

“My mother was left widowed after Desert Storm, so she raised me as a single mom. She really didn’t have a chance to pick a side. I think her party is more a ‘let’s get things done and not waste time arguing with each other’ party.”

Coy narrowed his eyes. “I see. Do you come from a religious family?”

Jace smiled.
“Absolutely.”

“Southern Baptist?”
Coy asked, as if there was no other right answer.

“My dad was Greek Orthodox, my mother grew up Methodist,” Jace corrected, and I knew from the look on his face he was suppressing a smile.

“So you’re Greek,” Coy pondered with his hands linked in his lap.

“
My ancestors were,” Jace smiled. “But for the last four generations, we’ve all been Americans.” Both Shelby and I ducked our heads and bit our lips to suppress a grin.

By eleven, Jace finally extricated himself. There was no discernible difference in the hugs that he gave Shelby and me, but I squeezed him extra tight before I had to let him go.

It was my first night without him after our two-day honeymoon, and I missed him before he walked out the door.

After that, everyone sort of retired to their bedrooms. I was grateful for the reprieve. At ten after midnight, my door slightly opened after a brief knock. I shot up in the bed, somehow reminded of all those nights so many years ago when Shane would slip undetected into my bedroom, only to abuse me throughout the quiet morning hours with my mother sleeping two doors away.

Now, after spending time with Coy Goddard, those feelings of vulnerability were back in force. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was wrong somewhere. I could feel it in my gut.

I sighed in relief that it was only Shelby. She held two bowls in her hand as she approached the bed. “Sorry about my dad,” she said as she offered me on
e of the bowls of bread pudding like an olive branch.

I took the bowl from her and promptly dug in. My ability to say no to the decadent dessert had been exhausted from the night under Dr. Goddard’s judgmental microscope.

She climbed into bed beside me. “He means well. He’s just… brisk.”

“Sure, we’ll use your word,” I offered with a smile stuffed full of bread pudding. She giggled.

“He’s old school,” she explained. “Discipline is big with him.”

“But you’re an adult,” I pointed out.
“You don’t need his discipline anymore.”

She shrugged. “He doesn’t see it that way.”
She looked so sad my heart went out to her immediately. Before I could ask what was wrong, she finally took me in her confidence. “I’ve been hospitalized before,” she confessed softly as she dug through her bowl of pudding. “He was convinced I was trying to hurt myself because he found me cutting.”