by Kelly Moore
“Wow, this place is packed.” Children run by us laughing. The whoosh of the air brakes is loud but drowned out by the sound of people screaming as the pirate ship flips over high above us, and its riders’ heads dangle toward the ground.
“What do you want to do first?”
She takes my hand and runs through the crowd to the Ferris wheel. She literally can’t keep still in line, waiting our turn to ride. “I’m scared and excited at the same time. I’m not good with heights, but I’ve always wanted to see a city from a top of one.”
The wheel stops its slow spin, and it’s our turn to get in the bucket seats that sway back and forth. I help her in and pull the bar down into our laps. She’s feeling around in the metal seat.
“There’s no seat belt?” Her eyes are round as saucers.
I drape my arm around the back of her. “I got you.” I laugh.
The wheel starts to move, and she has a death grip on the bar. “Look out over the horizon,” I try distracting her.
She lets out a few tense breaths, and her hands aren’t as white from squeezing so tight. “It’s beautiful,” she finally says as we stop on the very top. “There’s every shade of color coming from the city.” The seat rocks a little, and she snuggles in closer. She laughs, then reaches up, pulling my face toward her, and she kisses me, taking my breath away with the sweetness behind it. The wheel starts to move again, and she releases me. I take my hand down from behind us and place it on her leg and caress her. I love touching her.
We loop around two more times and each time at the top, she kisses me. The last time around, she toys with her hands. “I could get used to this,” she softly says.
“The fair?”
“No, you and me. I love spending time with you.”
“Good thing, because I’m crazy in love with you.” I don’t want to hear her protest, so I take her mouth in mine and let her feel my passion for her. She melts into my kiss. I don’t need to hear her say it back to me. I know that she loves me.
Chapter 10
“What are you working on, beautiful?” I woke up, and she wasn’t next to me. She’s in a long flannel robe with one leg drawn up in a chair, and she’s ferociously scribbling in one of her notebooks.
“It’s a song I’ve been working on for a while.”
“I know it’s been a few weeks since I mentioned it, but have you given the record label any more thought?” I pour a cup of coffee, but there’s no steam coming from it. I pop open the microwave and stick it inside. “How long have you been up?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She’s stopped writing and is biting on the end of her pen.
I walk over and look over her shoulder.
* * *
It’s two a.m., and I lie here awake
The hurt no longer overtakes
I smile with a vision of your face
Falling in love in this space.
* * *
Time no longer stands still
I finally made it over the hill
The ache remains in my soul
But love slowly replaces the hole.
* * *
Mmmm…baby, I’m ready to be yours
You tell me you love me
And I haven’t been able to say the words
But I’m ready for your love
To love you back
* * *
She realizes I’m reading behind her, and she slams the notebook shut. “Hey, I’m not ready for you to read it.”
I sit next to her and take her hand in mine. “Are those words written for me?”
She nods and bites her bottom lip.
I pull her into my lap and crash my mouth over her lips. My tongue dances with hers. Her written words have pierced my heart, and the love I feel for her slams out of me. I push everything off the table, lift her up, and untie the belt keeping her robe together. I push the soft material off her shoulders and trail my lips down her neck…over her collarbone…down to the swell of her breasts.
Her hands are tugging at my long pajama bottoms. She fights with the string that holds them up and then tugs them down my thighs. I can’t wait a second longer. She lays back onto the table, and I slam into her. She’s wet and clamps down around me, tighter with each thrust that pushes her further back on the table. I lift one knee and use the table to anchor myself.
She moans my name when I press in deeper. I want her to feel me all the way up to her heart. I need her to know that she’s mine, and she doesn’t have to say the words.
I can’t get close enough to her. Without disconnecting us, I sit back in the chair, taking her with me. She arches, and I go in even deeper. She braces her hands on my shoulders and starts a slow rise and fall. Her breast is at my mouth, and I draw in a nipple. She lets out a sexy moan that makes me even harder.
“Yes, baby,” I hiss as she lowers onto me. The next time she raises up, I reach between us and find her swollen nub and roll it between my fingers. It sets off a firestorm in her.
Her thighs press together with each pulse of her on my cock. I’m barely holding it together. A sheen of sweat covers my body, and I grit my teeth the moment I feel that familiar tingling sensation climbing.
I don’t want to come. I want us to be in this moment forever. She leans down and whispers, “I love you” in my ear, and I no longer have control. I grasp her hips with my fingertips, holding her down on me as I release inside her. My head falls back as my body involuntarily jerks. She covers her mouth with mine and swallows my growl. She tugs at my hair and a second round goes through both of us. We’re both holding on to one another, softly whispering I love you.
When our breaths finally return, she collapses in my lap. I wrap my arms around her and just hold her.
“Promise me you won’t let me disappear,” she speaks quietly.
She doesn’t have to tell me what she means. I already know. She doesn’t fade into a place that’s sad as much as she did when I met her almost two months ago. I only find her drinking when she struggles at night.
“I’ll fight for you every day, baby. I want nothing more than to see you happy.”
“Do you still want to sign my song?”
“Only if that’s what you really want.”
“I know Elliot wants it.”
I take her face in my hands and force her to look in my eyes. “Is it what you want?”
She nods. “But I don’t want to leave you.”
“I’ll be by your side the entire time.”
“It scares the shit out of me.”
“I don’t want to ruin the moment between us, but at some point, not today, you have to tell me why.” I scoot the chair out from under us. “Right now, I want to take you to bed and repeat what we just did.”
She smiles and leads the way.
After dinner, we drive out to her place, where she’s called a meeting with Elliot and Joe. I know she’s nervous because the first thing she does is fix herself a drink.
“You don’t have to do this.” I run my hand through her hair.
“I know, but I want to try.”
“Are you doing this for you or Elliot.”
She shrugs. “Maybe a little of both. He used to play for my husband.”
“Your husband was in a band?” It’s the only thing I can think to ask. I’m shocked that she’s exposing something of herself.
She walks over to the couch and sits. From the look on her face, I’d say, she didn’t mean to say the words out loud. “He loved music. He started a band while he was in high school.”
I softly sit next to her. “Is that where you met him?”
She draws both legs up and protectively wraps her arms around them. “We met at a bar. We were in a dueling band contest. I was the lead singer in my group, and him in his. He wasn’t real happy that I beat him.” She giggles and lays her head sideways on her knees. “I loved him the moment I laid eyes on him. He was the sweetest, most romantic person I’d ever met. He used to write me love songs, and then mak
e me sing them to him.” She reaches for her drink and takes a big gulp, closing her eyes as it burns her throat.
“What happened to him?”
The front door opens. Elliot and Joe are laughing as they come in, totally killing the moment. Joe reeks of pot and his eyes are glassy. Elliot tugs out of his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack.
“I hope a snow plow comes up here because they’re predicting an inch of snowfall this weekend.”
God, I wish he could’ve given us a few more minutes. I was so close to having her open up to me.
She hops off the couch and hugs both of them. “Thanks for coming. I know it was your night off.” She escorts them both over to the couch next to me, and she sits in the recliner.
“So what’s this all about?” Joe, who hardly ever speaks, asks.
“I’ve decided to record our music and let Jameson get us a contract.”
“Really?” Elliot smiles, but I see hesitation in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I need to do this. I’ve lost enough, and this has always been my dream.”
Elliot rests back. “I want a promise from you first. If at any time it’s too much or you change your mind, we stop.”
She’s rubbing her hands up and down her legs. “Okay.”
He angles toward me. “When can we get started?”
“I’m booked the rest of this week, but I’m open the first part of the next one. You need to give me the music ahead of time to listen to so I can have an idea of the sounds I’m working with. You’re going to want to have at least fifteen songs, and I’ll cut it down to the twelve best.”
“And after that?” Joe pokes his head around Elliot to look at me.
“After that, I take the album to the biggest recording label in Nashville. They have branches in California. I’ve no doubt it will be picked up. The financial negotiations will be set up with the three of you.”
“Then it goes to the local radio stations,” Elliot says, not asks.
“Yes. The record label will set you up to be on stage, either opening up for a large band, or small venues.”
“I know how it works.” Elliot stands, followed by Joe. “We’ll be ready.” He grabs his jacket, and I follow them both outside to their van. “You need to keep a close eye on her,” he says before he opens the door. “She may say she’s ready, but it’s not going to be easy on her, and I don’t want to risk losing her for a second time.”
“What does that mean?”
He opens the door and gets inside. “It means, you need to ask her.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “If she won’t tell me?”
“Then you damn sure better watch out for her.” He shuts the door, and Joe drives off.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and sit on the front porch step. I type in Lyla in the search bar, then it dawns on me that I don’t even know her last name. I run inside, and she’s moved to the couch, and she’s no longer drinking from the glass, but the bottle.
Walking over to her, I take it from her hand and sit next to her. “Can we finish the conversation we were having earlier?”
“He’s dead.” She takes the bottle back.
“How did he die?”
“I’m done talking about him.” She stands.
“What’s your last name, Lyla?”
“Sanders.” She disappears into the bedroom.
I type Lyla Sanders into the search bar, and a younger version of her pops up, but very little information about her. There’s no mention of a husband.
I head to the bedroom, and she’s curled up under the covers. I take my shoes off and lie on the covers, next to her. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because I can’t handle my own story. Please, can’t we just be you and me without a past? I love you, and I’m ready to move on, but don’t make me revisit somewhere that shattered me.”
I get up and pull back the covers and get back in, rolling her toward me. “Okay,” I whisper and kiss her. She wraps her leg over my hip, and I kiss her deeply to let her know it’s okay. I’d rather have her here and now than risk what might happen to her for telling me her story.
Chapter 11
The crowd’s fighting to get into the Brew’s Brothers every weekend to hear Gypsy. They’ve had to add an extra day a week, two sessions a night. Boomer says it’s still not enough to keep up with the demand and is trying to convince them to sign on for another three months.
A part of me would love that because that would mean keeping Lyla to myself, but a bigger part of me wants the world to hear her beautiful voice.
She’s exhausted when she comes crawling into bed in the wee hours of the morning. I couldn’t go this weekend because of being booked at the studio. I had to work nights to accommodate the band’s scheduling needs.
“How was the show?” I kiss her when she tries to get in bed without waking me.
“Good. Go back to sleep.” She lays her head on my chest, and I stay awake long enough to feel her drift off.
I let her sleep in on Monday morning. The recording studio is empty the rest of the week for her, so there’s no rush.
My cell phone vibrates across the table. I almost knock it off trying to get to it before it wakes her up. “Hello.”
“Hey, it’s Axel. Do you have any news for me?”
“Yes. I have a contract with Monster Music waiting on you.”
“Wow, that’s the big boys!” He muffles the phone, but I can hear him telling his band, and they’re whooping and hollering.
“I can send it to your email address for you to look over. They want to meet with you when you’re back in town. If you sign with them, they want your band to perform at the CMA Music Festival. They want to include a few rock and pop bands this year.”
“That’s fucking awesome, man. Tell me when and where, and we’ll be there.”
“The rest is up to you to work out. I’ll send you names and numbers. You make the appointments, and I recommend bringing an attorney to look over the contract for you and help you negotiate the contract.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Good luck.”
“Hey, Jameson.” He stops me from hanging up.
“I finally remembered where I know Gypsy’s face from.”
Do I want him to tell me? Before I can respond, he starts talking.
“She was married to Red Flynn. He was my idol, man. It’s too bad what happened to them.” Someone in the background is yelling his name. “I gotta go.” The line goes dead.
Red Flynn, shit! What was that…ten or so years ago? I run downstairs to my computer. I type in his name and article after article pops up. There, on his arm in one of the pictures, is Lyla with a baby in her arms.
My heart stops as I read the news on what happened. Red Flynn was a newbie on the music scene. He was a rising star and pegged to be the next big thing in the pop world. He and his infant son were killed in a car accident caused by a fan. No wonder she’s so damn sad on the inside, and it’s hard to reach the person she was before she lost her family.
I hear a gasp over my shoulder. Lyla is standing right behind me. I spin around in my chair. Her hand is covering her mouth, and her eyes are filled with large tears. I tug at her hand, and she sits in my lap.
“Tell me what happened, baby.”
Her eyes blankly stare at the picture on my computer. When she finally starts telling me her story, her voice is soft and broken. “Red had just finished the concert. I was feeding Jacob in Red’s dressing room where they had screens set up in there for me to watch. It was easier with the baby than being backstage. The loud noises scared him.” She lets a small sob escape before she can continue.
“When my husband left the stage, a woman followed him to his dressing room. The security caught her before she made it to him. But, Red, wanting to be good to his fans, had them release her. She wanted his autograph, and he gave it to her. Then she shoved him against the wall and started kissing and groping at him. He pushed h
er off, and the security team for the venue escorted her out. She kept screaming that she loved him over and over.” She grows quiet.
“What happened next?” I’m not sure I want to know, but she needs to say the words.
She wipes her tears on her shoulder. “The venue we were performing at didn’t allow our trailer in the parking area. It couldn’t accommodate it, so we rented a limo for the night. Our bodyguard ushered the three of us to the limo. Red got a call and was on his cell when he got in the back. I put Jacob in the car seat and fastened him in. He started fussing, and I realized that I left his baby bag in Red’s dressing room.”
“Red told the bodyguard to take me to get it, and then he went back to his conversation.” Her tears stream down her face like a waterfall. “I was only gone a few minutes,” she sobs. “It was all my fault.”
I wrap my arms around her and wait for her to finish.
“It all happened in slow motion. I saw the same woman come charging across the street toward the limo. She didn’t even look before she darted out in front of a van. She was yelling that she loved him with every step closer she took. The van swerved to avoid hitting her. It was too much of a shift for the driver to make. He turned it so hard that it tilted on two wheels. I saw it headed straight for the limo, and no matter how much I screamed, I couldn’t get Red to hear me. They never knew what hit them when it crushed them between the van and the building. I tried to get them out! There was nothing but blood and deafening silence.”
She cries harder, and I hold her to the point that I can’t tell whose tears are whose.
“If I wouldn’t have forgotten the bag, they wouldn’t have been there,” she screams and covers her face with her hands. “I should be the one that’s dead, not them. Not my baby.”