Falling Star (A Shooting Stars Novel Book 2)

by Terri Osburn

  April flipped another page. “That you know of.”

  Naomi nearly took her eye out. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Those lenses are long. They could be camped out on a rooftop snapping pics like some gossip-mag sniper.” She jammed another pillow behind her back. “I’m just saying. You never know where a photographer might be lurking these days.”

  What if they were following Chance around? What if pictures of the two of them walking the downtown streets were being cropped and manipulated right now? Naomi stared at her half-made-up face in the mirror, considering the possibilities. And then she went back to doing her makeup.

  “That actually wouldn’t be a bad thing. So long as they don’t post a picture of him taking a drink, I’d be happy for the free attention.”

  April tossed the magazine aside. “Do you always wear that much makeup to a family dinner?”

  Naomi froze, mascara wand hovering before one eye. On a typical Sunday, Naomi didn’t bother with makeup at all. So what was she doing getting dolled up as if she had a hot date?

  “I should wash this off.” She reached for the washcloth hanging from the towel bar. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  April darted into the bathroom and snatched the washcloth away. “Oh, no you don’t. Fake or not, a date is a date. Any man willing to meet your family deserves at least a little eyeliner. And if the night goes the way I expect it will, possibly a blow job on the way home.”

  Naomi shoved her way out of the bathroom. “Why do I let you in my house? That’s disgusting.”

  “Right. Like you’ve never gone down on a guy in a car.”

  Dropping onto the bed, Naomi dragged a black knee-high boot over her skinny jeans. “What happens on spring break stays on spring break. And are you forgetting who we’re talking about here? This isn’t just any guy. It’s Chance Colburn. The Chance Colburn.”

  “Yes. The Chance Colburn.” April leaned against the door frame. “The guy who ruined you for every man who came after him. Who broke your heart and made you cynical about love. He’s also the chart-topping megastar who is spending a Sunday evening pretending to be your boyfriend, just to keep your mother from pairing you up with a successful doctor. Tell me you see the story arc in that scenario.”

  Tugging on the second boot, Naomi rejected the insinuation. Yes, it was possible that Chance had grown up. That maybe the selfish, heartless cheater who’d destroyed her confidence, shaken her sense of self-worth, and made her question every instinct she’d ever had no longer inhabited the man picking her up in ten minutes. She’d already considered that possibility, and had no problem giving him the credit he deserved for turning his life around.

  However, no amount of change in Chance would be enough for Naomi to put her heart on the line again. Growing up was one thing, but Chance still carried enough emotional baggage to scare off any sensible woman.

  Boots in place, she remained on the bed, eyes on the floor. “April, he’s a recovering alcoholic, barely holding his life together.” She looked up to meet her best friend’s caring gaze. “I’ve seen his hands shake. Watched him struggle to control his temper. Seen the demons lurking in his eyes, always hovering beneath the surface, ready to push him over the edge. Does that sound like a man you’d want to get involved with?”

  April joined her on the bed. “Maybe not. But it does sound like he could use a friend. I know from personal experience that you’re an awesome one of those.”

  “Now you’re getting mushy on me.” Rising to her feet, Naomi shoved the jeans down into her boots before tugging the sleeves of her white sweater down over her hands. “How do I look?”

  “Casual yet sexy,” April said. “Snoop Doggy Dawn would approve.”

  Naomi tossed a pillow at her friend’s head. “One of these days, I’m going to tell her you call her that.”

  The blonde stood, towering over her friend despite the three-inch heels on the black boots. “So long as I’m a continent away, go for it.”

  To Naomi’s surprise, her doorbell rang. The two stared at each other, wide-eyed.

  “Do you think that’s him?”

  “Would he come all the way up here?” Naomi whispered, as if the person on the other side of the door could hear them from the back of the apartment.

  “Only one way to find out.” April sprinted from the room, with Naomi trailing after her.

  He’d stood center stage at the Grand Ole Opry, played Nissan Stadium in front of sixty thousand screaming fans, and walked the red carpet for the biggest award shows in entertainment. Yet meeting Naomi’s family felt more daunting than all of those experiences put together.

  As Archie had pointed out, Chance didn’t do family dinners. He’d never even done his own family dinners. Thanksgiving had been on TV trays in front of the Cowboys game, hoping America’s team would win so Wayne wouldn’t be in a pissy mood for the rest of the weekend. Shelly had once received an invite for Chance to dine at the White House. He’d laughed at the notion and turned the invite down.

  So why the hell had he volunteered to have dinner with an all-American family who couldn’t possibly fathom the realities of his upbringing? Naomi’s father was a dentist, for Christ’s sake. You couldn’t get more normal than that.

  Before Chance could change his mind and head back the way he’d come, Naomi’s door flew open and a towering pillar of woman greeted him.

  “Howdy, cowboy.”

  Well, shit, he’d thought he remembered the apartment number. “I’m sorry. I thought this was someone else’s door.”

  “It’s me!” Naomi charged around the taller woman. “It’s me. This is right. I live here.”

  Chance hadn’t expected quite this level of enthusiasm. “Good to know I didn’t knock on a stranger’s door.” He lingered on the threshold as the odd pair watched him, wearing matching goofy grins. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Oh yes. Just let me grab my purse and my phone.”

  She disappeared inside, leaving him alone with the woman who stood nearly eye to eye with him in her bare feet. “I’m Chance,” he said.

  The gawker nodded. “I know.”

  “And you are?”

  “April. April Pitz.” Tossing a thumb over her shoulder, she added, “I don’t live here. I’m just staying for the weekend.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice. “But I can make myself scarce tonight, if necessary.” Slim brows wiggled up and down.

  Maybe she knew something he didn’t. “Okay, then. Good talking to you.” Chance backed up to lean on the railing behind him.

  Naomi’s apartment complex was set up like a motel, with all the apartments opening to a triangular courtyard housing a pool and tree-lined sidewalks. The place looked exactly as he remembered, which had helped him pinpoint the correct door to knock on.

  “Got my stuff.” Naomi joined him outside the door. “Ready to go.”

  They headed for the stairs as April yelled, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

  Pretending her friend didn’t exist, she hustled down the two flights of metal stairs. At the bottom, she said, “I’m guessing we’re in a taxi? You should have sent me a message when you were almost here. I’d have come down and saved you from having to pay for the extra time.”

  Where did she get these ideas? “When a man picks up a woman for a date, real or not, he doesn’t honk from the drive and wait in the car. He goes to the damn door. And there’s no taxi. I rented a car.”

  Two steps more and Chance realized he was walking alone. Turning back, he found her staring in disbelief. “You don’t have a license, remember? You can’t drive a rental car.”

  Was there any limit to the sins she would continuously place at his feet? Closing the distance between them, Chance took her by the hand and pulled her along. “That’s why I hired a driver to go with the car. Now could you stop assuming the worst every time I open my mouth?”

  Naomi nearly tripped in her effort to keep up, and Chance slowed his gait.
>
  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But when you say rental car, I think . . . well . . . rental car. Go up to the counter. Hand over a credit card. Take the keys.” She stopped again when they reached the parking lot, nearly ripping his arm from the socket. “You rented a limousine.”

  “That’s generally the kind of car that comes with a driver.”

  He tried to put them back in motion, but she wouldn’t budge. “We can’t show up at my parents’ house in a limousine. Are you crazy?”

  Chance had considered choosing the basic sedan, but upgraded to a limo at the last minute, figuring what he lacked in breeding and good manners he could make up for with money.

  “It’s just a car, Nay. It’ll get us there and back, and Victor will have a nice long nap while we eat.”

  Victor smiled from his position next to the open rear door. “At your service, ma’am.”

  She slowly advanced, as if the car might explode at any second. “My mother is going to have a cow.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Chance asked.

  “Could go either way.” When they reached the car, she bent to tuck her head inside. “It’s beautiful!”

  Victor grinned with pride as Chance admired the view. The dark denim hugged her curves in all the right ways. “Yes, it is.”

  Once she climbed inside, Chance followed suit, settling in beside her on the black leather seat as Victor closed the door.

  Accent lights lining the top of the windows illuminated her hazel eyes. “I can’t believe you did this. The neighbors will be talking for days. Maybe weeks.”

  He’d done it for her. Naomi deserved to travel in style, if only for one night. “That’s always been my motto. Give ’em something to talk about.”

  The window that separated them from the driver lowered. “If you’ll give me the address, we’ll be on our way.”

  Naomi supplied the info requested, and the window slid back into place.

  “Can he see us?” she whispered.

  “Why? Are you planning to do something you don’t want him to see?”

  A deep blush pinkened her cheeks. “No . . . I . . . I just wondered, is all.”

  If Chance didn’t know better, he’d swear she was lying. “That window is pretty dark. I bet he can’t see a thing.”

  In truth, Chance knew otherwise, but he wasn’t above a little fib if it meant loosening Naomi’s inhibitions. She’d been on his mind a lot since Friday morning. Especially after Archie’s little warning. Everything that went wrong seven years ago had been Chance’s fault. Naomi had gotten too close and he’d panicked. For months after, every time he’d closed his eyes he’d see her expression that last morning. The hurt. The confusion. The disappointment.

  He’d drank to get her out of his head. And then drank more to silence the guilt. The drunker he got, the louder the voices grew.

  She deserves better.

  You’re nothing but a worthless piece of shit.

  No one wants a loser like you.

  “Chance?” Naomi waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you still with me?”

  He blinked the memories away. “Yeah. Did you say something?”

  She leaned on the armrest between them. “No, I didn’t. Where did you go just now?”

  “Nowhere.” Rubbing his palms on his denim-clad thighs, Chance buried the past where it belonged. “Are we almost there?”

  Naomi chuckled. “We’ve barely been on the road three minutes.”

  “Right.” The limo suddenly felt as if it were closing in on him. “We need music.” Chance pushed a button above his head and the front window lowered again. “Turn on some country music, Victor.”

  “There are controls in the armrest, sir. We have all the streaming options, as well as traditional radio stations.”

  Locating the small lever that released the top of the armrest, Chance was greeted with a rectangular screen that glowed to life. Impatient, he picked the first country station he could find. Keith Whitley filled the speakers with “I’m Over You,” a classic tune Chance had played in Texas honkytonks a thousand times.

  “They’ve thought of everything in these cars,” Naomi said, watching him closely. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you’re having second thoughts about this dinner, we can turn around now.”

  Chance sought to reassure her. “I’m good. How bad could one dinner be?”

  Naomi melted into the seat. “You have no idea.”

  Chapter 16

  When they reached the house, Naomi had Victor pull into the driveway as far to the right as he could. Part of her deal with Baker had been that he’d show up after her and Chance. In fact, she’d messaged him on the way to coordinate their arrivals. By her calculation, he should be pulling up the drive within two to three minutes.

  The sprawling redbrick of her childhood rested on a hill overlooking a winding valley of neighborhoods. From the driveway, one would assume the backyard dropped straight down, but beyond the stately magnolias, the Mallard property extended to nearly the size of a football field with willow, oak, and hickory trees strategically placed for both privacy and shade.

  Chance exited the car first and then turned to help Naomi. Once they were both out, Victor closed the door. “Have a nice dinner. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

  Naomi straightened her clothing and resisted the urge to ask Chance how much the limo was costing him. “Thank you, Victor. I’ll bring you out a dessert as soon as I can.”

  The driver acknowledged the promise before returning to the front seat.

  Satisfied with her appearance, Naomi looked up to find Chance gawking. “Welcome to chez Mallard. It isn’t as daunting as it looks.” She rethought that statement. “Well, the house isn’t. The people inside are a different story.”

  “What does your dad do again?” he asked.

  “Dentistry. He’s run his own practice since I was in middle school.” When Chance continued to stare, she clutched his sleeve. To her surprise, he’d ditched the usual T-shirt and vest for a starched gray button-down. “Should we go in?”

  “Hold on.” Intense brown eyes swung her way. “How are we playing this?”

  She thought they’d established that on Friday morning. “Like you said. We met at work, hit it off, and have been spending time together.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “What kind of time?”

  “Um . . .” Naomi wasn’t sure how to answer. “Regular time? A couple nights a week?”

  “I mean, are we sleeping together?”

  The question left her flustered. “You mean after this?”

  Chance scrubbed a hand over his face. “Stay with me, Nay. I need to know what you want them to think. If we’re sleeping together, I’m going to act one way. If we’re closer to friends, I’m going to act another. Which is it?”

  Why was he making this so complicated? And when did it get so hot outside?

  “If I want Mom to stop pushing Neal on me, then I guess we’d have to be more than friends. But I broke up with another man only last week.” Naomi twisted her purse strap around her hand. “Seems kind of fast to be sleeping with someone new.”

  Nostrils flaring, Chance asked, “Were you sleeping with Swanson?”

  A personal question that didn’t have anything to do with the current situation, but Naomi answered anyway. “No. Michael and I never slept together.”

  Visibly appeased, he took her hand. “Then that’s settled.”

  Whatever conclusion they’d just reached was a mystery to Naomi. Before she could seek clarification, a red Honda Civic pulled up the drive. Seconds later, Baker popped out looking quite proud of himself. “Two minutes exactly.” Pausing to take in the long black car, her younger brother whistled. “Nice, sis. Way to travel in style.”

  “This is my brother, Baker,” Naomi explained as her shaggy-haired coconspirator ambled over to join them. “Baker, this is—”

  “Chance freaking Colburn.” He shook Chance’s hand as if trying to coax
water from a well. “How you doing, man? You’re looking good. Way better than that mug shot posted everywhere.”

  I’ll take “When It’s Okay to Kill Your Brother” for a thousand, Alex.

  “We should go inside.” Naomi wrapped an arm around Chance’s and led him to the side door.

  Unfortunately, Baker wasn’t finished embarrassing her. “I thought you were bringing some random guy, Homie. Way to pull out the big guns. Mom is going to shit a brick.” He shook his head as he hopped in front of them to reach the door first. “I’m so glad I get to see her face when y’all walk in. This is gonna be epic.”

  Speaking for the first time since her brother pulled up, Chance whispered, “Did he call you homie?”

  Full-blown humiliation achieved. “When he was a baby, Baker couldn’t say Naomi. What he could say sounded like homie, and he’s called me that ever since.”

  Chance won points for not laughing. “Is that the strangest thing I’m going to learn tonight?”

  She wished. “Probably not. My father is a frequent TMI offender. I’d limit extended conversations if I were you.”

  Chance reached for the door Baker didn’t bother to hold for them. “Got it.”

  The Mallard house far outshot whatever Chance had pictured in his head. Not a mansion by any means, but the imposing two-story made a statement. It said people of means live here. Real people. Not famous people. Famous people tended to go ostentatious. Personally, Chance preferred his three-thousand-square-foot cabin to a haughty palace sporting tennis courts and Olympic-size pools. But the Mallards had gone for classic upper-crust, white-collar pomp. Precision landscaping. Tailored grounds. Understated grandeur.

  The complete and total opposite of the house Chance had grown up in.

  They entered through a sunroom filled with wicker furniture and flourishing greenery. Following Naomi’s lead, he wiped his booted feet on the textured gray welcome mat.

  “Last chance to back out,” Naomi mumbled, once Baker advanced farther into the house.

  Chance had never been the curious type, but he could have given Willie a run for his feline money in that moment. “Abort the mission? Hell no.”