by LuAnn McLane
“ ‘From one lover to another, uh-uh,’ ” they sang together.
When the song ended, Belinda stared at Oliver for a couple of seconds, pulse pounding, breathing hard. Was this really happening? She wanted to glance up at her parents, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the man who had captured her heart.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TO LOVE SOMEBODY
Oliver held out his arms. “Belinda,” he said, and she launched herself at him, nearly knocking him over onto the stage floor. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her soft, floral scent and reveling in the feeling that she was finally back in his arms.
“You’ve got some explaining to do,” she said gruffly.
Oliver laughed and took a step back. “Hey, this was partly your mother’s doing.”
Belinda turned and looked up at her parents. Both were standing, and it was obvious that her mom was swiping at tears. “Oh, it’s all starting to make sense now. Wait, why didn’t you just call me?”
“I wanted to do it this way. The plan was to be incognito the whole way through, but your mother figured it out. I wanted to make the cut on my own merit.” He tilted his head at her. “So how did I do?”
Belinda answered by launching herself at him again. Ready this time, Oliver caught her and swung her in a circle.
“Kiss her!” one of the band members shouted. Oliver wanted to, but he knew once his lips touched hers it would turn into a kiss that probably wasn’t proper in front of her parents.
But when Betty Beal joined in on the encouragement, shouting, “Kiss her!” from the seats, Oliver dipped his head and gave Belinda a warm, lingering kiss.
The band members applauded and Oliver thought it was cute when Belinda blushed.
“Are you really auditioning for the show?” Belinda asked in a breathless voice. She looked damned hot in skinny jeans, a crisp white blouse, and a chunky silver and turquoise necklace.
“Yes.” He pointed to his cowboy boots. “I’ve gone country. Look at dem boots,” he said, referencing the Alan Jackson song. An entire catalog of country music was now filed away in his brain.
Belinda stood back and gave him a once-over. “It looks good on you.”
“Make sure you tell Jesse I don’t look like Woody from Toy Story.”
Belinda laughed. “No, seriously, you’re pulling it off.”
“That’s a relief.” Oliver nodded, not quite believing he was here. He turned to the band and gave them a round of applause. “You guys rock.”
“Meet the Stone Gap Band.” Belinda waved her hand in an arc. “I sang with these guys at many a barn dance and they’ve never sounded better. Guys, you can call it a day,” she said, and then looked up at Oliver. “Come over and meet my folks.” She took his hand and tugged him off the stage to where her parents stood.
Oliver thought he would be nervous meeting them, but their warm, welcoming smiles put him at ease in an instant. He gave Betty a hug and then firmly shook Jack’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here,” Jack said, but then raised an eyebrow at his wife. “Even though it would have been nice to have been in the loop.”
Betty shook her head. “You would have blown the secret for sure.”
“I can keep a secret,” Jack protested, but Betty gave him a deadpan stare. “Just not for very long,” he said, drawing a laugh from Oliver.
“So, did I make the cut from you two?” Oliver asked bravely.
“Oh yes,” Betty said. “Jack, we’ve found our emcees. Belinda, work on that hair flip.”
“I bet Mom thinks we can be the new Sonny and Cher,” Belinda said.
Oliver laughed. “Wow.”
“I would ask you two over to dinner, but I think you need this evening to yourselves,” Betty said.
“Thanks, Mom.” Belinda hugged her mother, and Oliver could feel how much they loved each other. In that moment, he was glad that her plan to get back into pop music never happened. This was where she belonged. And he did too.
“Ready?” Oliver asked.
“Just let me grab my purse and then you can follow me home.”
“Is it far?”
“It’s a secluded cabin in the mountains about ten minutes from here.”
“Sweet.”
They said their goodbyes to Jack and Betty and headed outside.
“Dad will give you a tour tomorrow,” Belinda said as she walked to her SUV. “You’re parked next to me?”
“I recognized your vehicle.”
“You bought a pickup truck?”
Oliver nodded toward the sleek silver four-wheel-drive monster. “I wanted to look badass for you.”
“I want you to take me for a ride,” Belinda said, and Oliver chuckled.
“That’s the idea.”
“Smart move.”
“I’ve got some other moves I want to show you.” Pulling her close, he gave her a kiss that previewed what was to come. When Belinda moaned against his mouth, he deepened the kiss. Finally, the need to have her naked made him pull back. “I’ve dreamed about kissing you every night. Take the fastest route to your cabin.”
Belinda gave him a sexy-as-hell smile. “Follow me.”
“Gladly.”
“Holy shit,” Oliver said for the third time. The narrow mountain road was barely wide enough for vehicles to pass on the opposite side, and he felt as if his big-ass truck might slide over the edge of the road for a long tumble into the endless woods.
And Belinda drove like a bat out of hell.
A trickle of sweat slid down his spine as he navigated a hairpin turn while following Belinda’s car. Signs warned of such dangers. Falling-rock signs made Oliver wonder if a giant boulder would suddenly come rolling over the next cliff. And apparently various animals crossed the road willy-nilly. A don’t-feed-the-bears sign had him shaking his head. “Bears?” he questioned under his breath. But he reminded himself that he grew up by the ocean and was no stranger to wildlife.
He would have taken in the beauty, but Belinda’s speed had him concentrating on the narrow road. Oliver blew out a sigh of relief when he followed her into a driveway next to a tall A-frame hugging the side of the mountain.
As soon as he got out of his truck, Belinda grabbed his hand. “Get your stuff later,” she said, and tugged him toward the front door. She ushered him inside and led him straight to her bedroom.
“Belinda,” Oliver began, but she put a fingertip to his lips.
“We can talk later. Right now, I want to be in your arms.” She backed away a step and started to unbutton her shirt.
Oliver watched her nimble fingers and his heart skipped a beat when she revealed a sexy white bra that pushed her breasts up over the satin. A demure little bow connected the cups. With a little growl, he pulled her closer and put his face there, inhaling her scent, kissing the sexy, soft skin. With one quick flick, he unhooked the bra and pulled it back so she could toss it to the floor. “Gorgeous,” he said, but noted with a pang that she’d lost weight, and he knew with certainty that he would never let her go again. And if she did go . . . he’d follow.
Oliver watched her dusky nipples tighten and bud, begging for his touch, his mouth. Belinda shrugged out of her blouse and then unsnapped her jeans. Stepping forward, Oliver went to his knees and tugged the snug jeans to the floor, revealing a white satin thong. Hooking his fingers along the lacy sides, he tugged them down.
Belinda gasped when he put his mouth at her core. She grabbed his shoulders and he steadied her by cupping her ass.
And then he kissed her there, licking, sucking until her knees buckled. “Oliver!”
He carried her to the bed, spread her thighs, and scooted her forward, exposing her intimate beauty. He slid a finger inside her folds, and then another, getting her ready. Grabbing at the colorful quilt, she bucked her hips, asking for m
ore.
“Aren’t you overdressed for the occasion?” Belinda asked breathlessly. Lifting her head, she added, “I want that gorgeous body next to mine.”
Oliver’s gaze met hers and he stood up, quickly shedding his clothes and boots. Locating a condom, he rolled it on before sliding his body over hers. He kissed her like there was no tomorrow, but there was tomorrow, and then there was the next day and the next . . .
He cupped one breast, the fullness of it, and then rubbed his thumb over her nipple the way she liked it. He started a hot trail of kisses down her neck, pausing at her nipples and then over her quivering belly. With a moan, she spread her legs and he pleasured her where she wanted him most, taking her to the brink. Coming to his knees, Oliver slid his hands beneath her ass, tilting her up, and entered her, going deep. He watched the play of emotion on her flushed face while he made love to her, lingering each time he thrust deep. She rocked her hips with him, dark hair spread around her, so sexy, so beautiful, and back in his life again.
As if reading his thoughts, her eyes flew open, locked with his . . . and then she cried out her release. Her throaty moan of pleasure carried Oliver over the edge, leading to an acute orgasm that only Belinda could elicit. He shuddered and then remained motionless, wanting to capture this feeling, this bliss, in his heart for safekeeping.
“I love you, Belinda,” he told her, wanting to say it while he was intimately connected to her. When a tear slid from the corner of her eye, he leaned in and kissed it away.
“Happy tears,” she said thickly.
“The only kind I want you to ever cry.” He reluctantly eased from her sweet body and rolled to the side, hugging her close. “I missed you more than I thought was humanly possible.” He brushed her hair to the side and kissed her shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to eat or do anything.”
“Me too.” She took his hand and brought it to her mouth, kissing it. The tender gesture tugged at his heart. “So what made you decide to come here? Do this?”
“My love for you.”
“Oh . . . Oliver.” She turned and put his cheeks between her palms.
“I was so bad that my brothers and Arabella came over to my house and did an intervention. Jesse said I looked like Tom Hanks in Cast Away.”
“Did you?”
“Kinda.”
Belinda shook her head and then showered his face with kisses until he laughed. “How long were you thinking about coming here?” She searched his face as if needing to know this was what he wanted.
“I made the decision as soon as Arabella suggested I audition. I should have thought of it myself, but I didn’t know if I could pull off the country thing.”
“You sound as if you were meant to sing country music. But, Oliver, I know firsthand what it feels like to sing in a genre you’re not happy with or comfortable singing.”
“Belinda, I grew up in a house filled with music. We sang everything from Broadway tunes to lullabies. The boy-band thing was just a natural way for us to sing together. I like that country music tells a story, has some heart and emotion. Not that other genres don’t.”
“What about your house?”
“My brothers and my housekeeper will keep an eye on things. I hope you’ll want to go there as often as we can.” He hesitated. “And I’m hoping for an invitation to live with you.” He ran a fingertip down her soft cheek. He smiled. “I’m jumping with both feet this time and it feels good . . . right. Coming here wasn’t a hard decision,” he said, and then kissed her gently, tenderly, until she melted against him.
“Who came up with ‘Islands in the Stream’?”
“Your mother!”
“Oh my gosh. My parents have literally blown me away.”
“I can’t wait to get to know them better,” he said. “God, I wish my parents could have met you.”
“Oh, Oliver . . .” She kissed his chest and then looked up at him. “I know my parents are going to adore you. Oh, how is Arabella doing?”
“Finally over the sick stage. Glowing!”
“I bet she looks cute with her little baby bump.”
“Grady is super protective to the point where he’s driving her nuts.” He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, thinking he would be the same way with her. Hit with a wave of emotion, Oliver ran his hand over the slope of her shoulder and down her arm. Her eyes fluttered shut when he traced his fingertip over her breasts, drawing circles over her nipple until she sucked in a breath. “Babe, I want to watch you come.”
“I can’t . . .”
“Shhh,” he said, dipping his head to capture a taut nipple between his teeth.
“God . . .”
Oliver nipped lightly, and then soothed with his tongue. He slowly ran his hand up her thigh, lingering next to her mound while he continued to lick and tease her breasts. When she arched into his hand, Oliver slipped his finger into her slick, wet heat, stroking her lightly. When her breath caught, he rolled his thumb where she was swollen with need, and then he did what drove her crazy by rubbing his light stubble over her sensitive nipple.
“Ohhhh,” she moaned. “Goddddd . . .” she cried, and then bit her bottom lip.
“Come for me, babe,” he said, swirling harder with his thumb until she tilted her head back and let out a deep, throaty cry of release. He loved watching her take quick gulps of breath before she wrapped one leg over him, resting her cheek on his chest.
“Just when I think I’m spent, you manage to wrangle more pleasure from my unsuspecting body.”
“Get used to it,” he said. “It’s my superpower.”
Belinda pushed up to her elbow. “I’ll get used to it, but I’ll never take having you here for granted. And I know it can’t be easy picking up, leaving your gorgeous home, and moving here. What do your brothers think?”
“It was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. And, Belinda, my home was empty and lonely after you left. My brothers encouraged me to do this. So did Arabella.”
“It’s been a crazy journey, but I suppose it had to happen the way it did for us to end up right here in this moment, don’t you think?”
“All the way back to when we were teenagers,” Oliver said, and pulled her head down for another lingering kiss.
“Can I interest you in a cold beer out on the deck?”
“I’m interested in anything you have to offer.”
Belinda gave him a sexy laugh. “The night is young. I have a lot to offer.”
Oliver pulled her close. “I’ll take all you have to give,” he said, and then unable not to, he kissed her yet again. “I’ll bring in my stuff and then join you in a few minutes. I need to call my brothers and let them know I passed the audition.”
“You mean nailed it. Oliver, having you here is going to bring so much attention to the theater.” She shook her head in wonder. “This is just . . . I can’t even put it into words how happy I am right now.” She shook her head. “If we had told our sixteen-year-old selves that our future was to sing country music together in the Belinda Beal Theater, our younger selves would have laughed their asses off.”
Oliver tossed his head back and laughed. Rolling over, he pushed to his feet and offered his hand to help her up. He tugged her into his embrace and looked down at her lovely face. “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked softly.
“For solid ground beneath my feet. Belinda, my anxiety about making decisions was born out of fear.” He shook his head slowly. “Making up my mind about something . . . anything just always felt so final. Right after ordering a steak, I’d wished I’d ordered the halibut.” He grinned. “Jesse would always offer to trade with me.”
“Jesse?”
“Yeah, he always has to be the jokester, and I know it’s because he can’t stand to see us sad. He thinks it’s his job to make us laugh.”
“After wha
t happened to your parents . . .”
Oliver tucked a lock of hair behind her ears and nodded. “Yeah. Jimmy internalized, poured his emotion into song.”
“And Grady?”
Oliver shrugged. “He took off. Did a lot of traveling, wandered the globe aimlessly. I guess you could say all four of us were just kinda lost.”
“Oliver,” she said, blinking away tears. “Y’all were afraid to love, to get hurt. Makes perfect sense.”
“I’m not afraid anymore. Loving you makes me feel stronger and more alive. And I’m not scared of losing you because if you leave, I’ll pack my bags and follow you. I know that sounds stalkerish, but . . .”
Belinda chuckled and then put her hands on his cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere. No one else could ever live up to what we have. It’s gotta be you.” She raised up on tiptoe and kissed him.
The very last piece of armor fell from Oliver’s heart, crashing and burning. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, knowing he would never let her go. The gloomy mist of fear evaporated, leaving sunshine in its wake.
EPILOGUE
I JUST WANT TO BE YOUR EVERYTHING
Another sellout crowd packed the Belinda Beal Theater. The excited buzz from the audience filtered onto the stage. Smiling, Belinda held Oliver’s hand, ready to begin another show. But this night was special because Oliver’s brothers and Arabella were in the house, front row and center.
“Are you sure I don’t look like Woody?” Oliver whispered to Belinda. “I didn’t want this damned checkered shirt.”
Belinda gave him a sideways once-over. “More like Howdy Doody,” she said, then giggled at his face. “No, you look handsome, my sexy cowboy.”
Inhaling a breath, he closed his eyes and nodded.
“Are you that nervous?” Belinda asked, a little surprised. Over the past three months, they’d found their groove. They were getting good at ad-libbing and moving past the scripted jokes.