by Jill Sanders
He glanced over at her and, for the first time since she’d laid eyes on him, he smiled. The slight raising of his lip had her heart skipping. He’d been knock-out gorgeous before, but when he smiled… Damn. It felt like she’d just come up from a deep dive.
“It wasn’t that bad.” He shrugged. “Was it?”
She laughed and turned her whole body towards him. “Nothing you did on stage was bad. I just wish that Tessa and Lucas were here. It’s too bad they were out of town this weekend.”
“Tessa and…” he started, but she could see the moment the names sunk in. “Tessa and Lucas James?” he asked under his breath. She nodded quickly and smiled. “You know them?”
“They’re friends of the family,” she answered and leaned a little closer to him. “If you have a demo CD…”
His sigh of frustration stopped her from continuing with her suggestion.
“I barely have the money to…” He stopped and glanced sideways at her, and she could tell that he realized what he’d just admitted to her.
“It’s too bad.” She shrugged, trying to play off the lack of his finances, knowing that he was embarrassed. “They’re going to be back home in about a month. If you’re nearby, maybe you can swing through town again and play for them?”
It was as if someone had just shot down his self-esteem. His shoulders sank slightly as he looked off into the darkness.
“If I’m around,” he replied softly.
She instantly went on guard at the lost tone. “Do you have some big plans?” she asked, wishing he’d turn those dark eyes towards her again.
“No.” He moved to turn away but stopped when she put a hand on his arm.
“Then you’ll be free to come back to town… say, around the end of next month?” She waited until his eyes finally moved to hers, to add, “Please.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?” He shook his head. “Why are you being so…”
“Pushy?” she asked with a chuckle. “It’s my nature. I would have thought that my brother would have warned you about me. He normally starts off every conversation with someone new by apologizing about something I said or did.”
The corners of his lips curved up slightly, and she about lost her breath. If the man ever smiled for real, she’d lose her heart completely.
“I’ll try,” he said, glancing down at her hand, which was still resting on his arm. Instead of moving it, she tilted her head.
“Promise?”
“I’m beginning to see the pushiness.”
She didn’t know if he’d meant it as a joke, but when she laughed, he relaxed slightly.
“Thank you for letting me keep you.” She glanced over to the building and realized that even her brother had left already. There were only three cars left in the parking lot—his, hers, and Tracey’s, the bartender closing up that night.
“It’s no problem.” His eyes moved to follow hers. “Looks like everyone left the party.”
She nodded. “I’d better…” She moved to go, but something stopped her. “Thank you,” she said, moving slightly closer to him. “For singing for me.” Then she surprised him and herself by reaching up on her toes and laying her lips over his in a brief kiss.
She hadn’t expected the shock she got at the slight touch, nor had she planned for the light kiss to turn into a passionate one. But when he finally pulled back, nudging her a step away by placing his hands on her shoulders, she realized she should have expected the electricity.
“I…” He swallowed hard and then, shaking his head, backed up a few steps. Without another word, he turned and crossed the parking lot.
“Damn,” she groaned as she watched his van disappear down the road. “Double damn.”
She’d messed up once again. She didn’t know what had drawn her to kiss him. Other than she had wanted to. It wasn’t as if she’d drunk too much. With her family present, she’d limited her drinks to the one shot her brother had gotten her and the beer she’d sipped on most of the night.
It took her body a few minutes to get back under control. As she started driving home, she was so preoccupied with thoughts of the kiss that she wondered how she kept the truck on the road.
Just as she was about to pull off the main road onto the long driveway that lead towards Saddleback Ranch, she noticed red brake lights farther down the road.
The road was well traveled, since it was one of the two roads that headed towards Tyler, but at this time of night, seeing brake lights had her slowing down.
Then, as if in a movie in slow motion, those brake lights went airborne and spun around as if the entire vehicle had flipped. Her heart skipped and she almost lost control of her own car as she watched the vehicle flip several times and disappear into the darkness on the side of the road.
By the time she stopped her own truck near where she’d last seen the brake lights, she had her father on the phone. Her dad had answered on the second ring.
“What’s wrong?” He always answered that way when she called after a certain hour at night.
“There was a car accident, just past the driveway. A car has flipped and is in the ditch. I’m going to go see if I can help,” she said quickly.
She could hear her father relay her message to her mother as she turned on her hazards and parked on the side of the road.
She didn’t expect more cars to pass that way, but still, she didn’t want to cause another accident.
“Hello?” she called out into the dark bushes.
“Sweetie, we’re on our way,” her father said into her ear.
“I’m going down there. I can hear someone,” she said before she put her phone in her pocket.
It took some work, and she slipped down the muddy embankment more than once, but finally, she stood next to the mangled vehicle.
It was too dark to see much, so she felt her way towards the front of the destroyed van.
“Hello?” she called out again. Pulling out her phone, she flipped on the flashlight app and gasped at the sight of Trace lying unconscious behind the wheel.
Her fingers shook as she reached up and felt his neck for a pulse. She tried to avoid focusing on the blood that covered his face and arms, since she had a history of dealing poorly with blood.
When she felt a faint pulse, she sighed and relaxed. Then he started to move. He groaned slightly and she tried to hold him still.
“No, don’t move,” she said softly as she ran the light and her hands over him.
He had a few cuts on his arms and face, but as far as she could tell, nothing was broken.
When her eyes returned to his face, she realized he’d been watching her.
“Are you done?” he asked softly.
“Can you tell if anything’s broken?” she asked, concerned even more when he winced as he tried to move.
“No, just my pride.” His eyes moved around the damage and he groaned. “And everything I own.”
“Can you move?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He shifted and winced again as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Emma?” she heard her father call out.
Turning away, she yelled out, “Down here. He’s okay.” She turned back to Trace and realized that he’d disappeared into the back of his van.
“Trace?” She tried to follow him, but the front of the van was so damaged, she couldn’t get past the driver seat.
“It’s okay,” he said in the dark. “It survived.”
At the relief in his voice, she turned her flashlight towards him.
He sat in the back of his van, his music equipment strewed all around him, holding his black guitar in his lap as if it was the most precious thing in the world.
“Emma?” She turned to see her father standing beside the van, a large flashlight in his hands. “Come on out of there.” He helped her crawl out of the van.
“Trace is still…” She turned and moved aside as a black guitar case appeared in front of her, followed slowly by Trace.
She stumbled slightl
y on a tree root, but her father helped her move aside.
“You okay, son?” her father asked, reaching in to help Trace out of the van.
“Yeah,” Trace sighed.
“Looks like you have a nasty cut,” her father said, his light shining on Trace’s forehead.
“Yeah.” Trace swiped at it with his jacket sleeve. “It’s just a bump.”
“Seeing double?” her father asked.
“No, but my ears are still ringing.” Trace wiped some dirt from his face and glanced around. “The damn deer came out of nowhere,” Trace said as his eyes darted around.
“Deer?” Her dad tensed as he looked around the darkness.
“Yeah, it was…” Trace motioned towards the road.
“I’ll go have a look.” Her father handed her an extra flashlight before disappearing.
“This is my dad, Chase. He’s a vet,” she told Trace under her breath with a smile. “Come on, let’s get you out of this ditch.” She held the light while he followed her to the road.
She hadn’t seen the backpack on his shoulder until they stood in front of her car’s headlights.
“Think you need to see a doctor?” she asked as her eyes ran over the now-drying blood on his face.
“No.” He shook his head just as her father came back over.
“There’s some blood, but it must have run off. You might have just nicked it.” Her father’s eyes ran over Trace’s face once more. She knew he was assessing him to make sure he was okay.
“Yeah, I swerved and… well.” Trace nodded towards the dark ditch. “I lost control.”
“I called an ambulance. They should be here in about ten minutes,” her father added.
Trace was silent for a while, and he turned his eyes towards her then back towards her father before saying, “I’m fine, really…”
“Dad,” Emma interrupted, laying a hand on her father’s arm, “why don’t we take him back to our place? You can have a look at him yourself. He can stay in one of the ranch houses until his van can be fixed.”
She pleaded with her father silently and he must have understood.
“Sounds like a plan,” her father said easily. “We can come back in the daylight and get the rest of your things from the van before it gets towed into town for repairs or to be scrapped. I’ll call Ryan and tell him we don’t need the ambulance.” Her father stepped away from them. “I’ll meet you back at the house,” he called out to them as he started towards his own truck.
“You can put your things in my car.” She reached for his bag.
“I’ve got it,” he said softly, then he followed her slowly back to her truck.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked, glancing back towards the darkness where his van sat beyond the tree line.
“No,” he answered as he climbed in beside her. “Nothing else for tonight.”
“You were lucky,” she said as she maneuvered her truck around and followed her dad’s truck back home. “I just spotted your taillights a second before you did that cool flip into the trees.”
“Cool?” He glanced sideways at her and she saw the corner of his lips twitch again.
Chapter Five
He couldn’t help it, the smile that formed on his lips was almost automatic. Even though he was in enough pain to warrant several large shots of tequila, he continued to smile at Emma.
She had parked in front of what he assumed was her parents’ house.
The massive white three-story place looked like something off an old movie set. He imagined a long-twisted staircase inside the double doors where women in long skirts could slowly stroll downwards to their waiting men below.
The wide front porch looked inviting, even in the dark, something straight out of a home magazine. Potted flowers lined the stairs and hung from the railings. He could just make out a swing and chairs and wondered how nice it would have been to live there as a kid.
The knock on his window shook him out of the trance.
Emma’s dad stood just outside the door and, as he reached for the handle, the man opened it for him.
“Take it easy,” the man said as his eyes once again assessed him. “Feeling dizzy?” he asked when Trace stood up.
He was, but he didn’t want to show any signs of weakness.
“I’m alright,” he started, but then Emma was there, and he lost his footing when he glanced over at her.
The next thing he knew, his arm had been tossed around her father’s shoulders, and he was half carried, half dragged to the front porch.
“Em, grab his things, would ya?” her father called back to her.
They didn’t stop long on the porch. The man pushed the front door open and helped him inside. By the time he was gently nudged into a soft recliner, he was feeling much steadier.
“I’m okay,” he said, but the man flipped on some bright lights and disappeared down a small hallway. Trace glanced around.
Yup, big Gone-with-the-Wind staircase included. The place was gorgeous. It made him feel strange when Emma walked in with his small duffle bag and his guitar case, which was pretty much everything he owned.
“I can…” He started to get up, but her father was back and placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping him where he was.
“Let me have a look at ya,” he said, pulling out some things from a black bag he’d brought back with him.
“You might as well not fight it,” Emma said, sitting across from him on the sofa’s arm. She smiled and placed her chin in her hands as she leaned on her knees. “Every time I so much as skinned a knee, I got the full benefit of my father’s profession.”
“You’re a vet, right?” he asked, looking at the man.
They both laughed, like his question was a joke.
“You’ve got some glass in here,” her father said after he’d pulled on a pair of dark glasses and examined his forehead. “I’ll need to remove it.” He reached into his bag and came out with some tweezers. “Hold still.”
He did, even closing his eyes as the man worked on his face and scalp.
Each time the man pulled a piece of glass or metal from his head, he felt more relieved.
“This isn’t windshield glass,” he said absently.
Trace thought back to the glass figurine he’d had dangling from his rearview mirror, but he kept his mouth shut. His silence was more out of pain from the loss of the memorabilia than anything.
“Doing okay?” the man asked.
“Yeah.” He opened his eyes to see both a man and Emma looking at him.
He hadn’t noticed the other woman walk into the room but nodded slightly in her direction when she moved closer.
“How’s he doing?” The moment she moved into the light; he could tell it was Emma’s mother.
The pair of them were almost identical, with the exception of age.
“Yeah, just finishing up now. He’s lucky and won’t need stitches. We’ll need to watch him close tonight.”
“I’ll stay up with him,” Emma jumped in.
Trace saw both of her parents’ eyebrows rise.
“It’s your birthday and you have work tomorrow morning,” her mother added.
“So. I’m the one that found him…”
He must have made a noise, since all three sets of eyes moved to him.
“I can watch myself.” He started to stand up, but the glare coming from Emma had him staying in place.
“Not with a head bump. You could have a concussion,” she said.
“I don’t,” he retorted.
“I don’t think he bumped his head that hard. It appears he was just sprayed with some shattered glass and small metal shavings.” Her father held up a small bowl he’d put the remaining pieces of Rod’s figurine in.
“Still,” Emma started.
“Why don’t you show him up to the guest room for now. He can shower the dried blood and grime off and get some rest.” Her mother turned to him. “I’ll have Emma bring up a tray of food. How about some soup and a
sandwich?”
He felt his stomach growl and tried to hide the sound by standing up. “You needn’t bother.”
“It’s no bother.” Her mother smiled at him. “We really enjoyed you sticking around town to play for our daughter’s birthday tonight. It’s the least we can do.”
“I’ll have Gary tow your van out of the ditch first thing in the morning,” her father added.
Trace winced at the thought of paying someone to haul his van out of the ditch. He had just started to feel like he had enough to live on for the next month, thanks to the extra birthday cash.
Still, he knew there was no way he was going to drive the van out of the muck, so he nodded and bent down to pick up his duffle bag.
“You’re ex-marines?” the man asked him when he tossed his bag over his shoulder.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, that settles it.” Chase’s smile grew. “Until you’re up to it and your van is fixed, you can stay out at one of the ranch houses. I’ll show you around tomorrow morning, myself.”
Not wanting to argue, since his head was now throbbing, he nodded.
“Here.” Emma’s mother handed him a glass of water and some pills. “For the pain.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He took the pills and downed them, then handed the glass back to her.
“Lauren, you can call me Lauren,” she replied.
He nodded his head and then turned to follow Emma up the staircase, holding his guitar case to his chest.
“There’s plenty of towels and things in the bathroom,” she was saying as they made their way down a hallway. When she opened a door and motioned him inside, he stepped past her into a room with what appeared to be new hardwood floors. The walls were a soft cream, with darker chairs, tables, and accents throughout the room. There was a soft tan and white quilt on the bed and more than a dozen white pillows.
He didn’t belong in this room any more than a bull belonged in a china shop.
He started to back out and bumped solidly into Emma, who was blocking the doorway.
“Go on.” She giggled and nudged him forward. “I made the quilt myself last winter.” She moved past him and sat on the edge of the bed. “The bathroom’s in there.” She motioned to a huge door that hung on a rail. “It slides like a barn door.” She tilted her head as she ran her eyes over him. “You do know how to open a barn door?”