One Wild Night

by Melissa Cutler

  Natalie snuggled into Toby’s side. “But you said that the good news was that we might still be able to get married tonight? How?

  “We’d have to put you on a plane to a popular elopement destination where a county clerk’s office would still be open on a Saturday night. According to Remedy, your wedding planner, that includes Vegas, Niagara Falls, and Nashville.”

  “That won’t be as big a problem as you might think, because I have a plane on standby at a Ravel County private airstrip,” Gentry said.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. I reserved a private jet for later tonight after the wedding so I could get back to Oklahoma. I’m sure the pilot would be more than happy to switch destinations if we threw enough money at him. Which I’d be perfectly happy doing for you. You could consider it a wedding gift.”

  That was … wow. Generous beyond measure. But Skye was getting stuck on the fact that he’d been planning to leave that night after the wedding. So much for the tryst in the stable he’d intimated about. Had he been leading her on? She masked her disappointment with a searing look and an arch of her eyebrow. “You were leaving tonight? Interesting. Because I thought otherwise.”

  Though he kept his eyes on the road, the hand on her knee inched higher to tease her inner thigh. “That reservation was made months ago. But let me be clear that I wasn’t gonna leave without taking care of some unfinished business first. My plane wasn’t supposed to depart until nearing midnight.” His words were said in a low, throaty twang that seemed to emerge when he let his guard down, as though arousal brought out the cowboy in him.

  Unfinished business it looked like they weren’t going to get to, after all. What a shame. Even if they were doing the right thing by Natalie and Toby.

  “You’d do that for us?” Toby asked.

  “Are you kiddin’ me? This weekend’s been the most fun I’ve had in months. Years, actually,” he added so quietly that Skye doubted Toby or Natalie had heard.

  Skye studied his profile. How could that be? Sure, the last twenty-four hours had been the most fun she’d had in years, but he was an internationally famous rock star. How could it be that they’d both been so starved for adventure?

  Toby took Natalie’s hands. “It’s your choice. Where do you want to go?”

  Natalie tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth and cast a questioning look at Toby. “How about Nashville? That’s where my parents eloped to. Maybe if we did that, they’d have an easier time understanding why we have to do this.”

  Toby cupped her cheek and gave her a slow, tender kiss. “Nashville it is.”

  “Leave it to us, you two. Just enjoy the ride.” Gentry raised the privacy window, then pulled out his cellphone. “I’ll give the pilot a call. And while I do that, you have a special assignment.”

  “What’s that?”

  He clicked on the radio. “It’s time for you to acquaint yourself with the glory that is country music.”

  * * *

  Gentry had called it right, Skye discovered. It turned out people were willing to do just about anything for a person if they had enough money thrown at them. Which was why, only an hour after Skye and Gentry had absconded with Natalie and Toby, a private jet and pilot were waiting for them at Ravel County Airfield. Gentry preceded them into the plane to talk to the pilot while Skye followed behind to help Natalie with her dress’s flowing train as she mounted the stairs.

  At the top of the stairs, she caught Natalie’s arm. “Hey, I need a hug before you go.”

  Natalie seemed to panic. “You’re not coming with us?”

  “To Nashville? Oh, gosh, no. I’m still technically on the clock at work, and if I took a one-way jet ride to Nashville, I’m not sure how I’d get home.”

  The two women embraced. “Okay. I understand. Thank you so much for everything,” Natalie said.

  “The pleasure was all mine. You and Toby are going to have the most magnificent life together. I can feel it.”

  Gentry appeared behind Natalie. “What’s going on here?”

  Natalie moved aside, wiping a tear from her eye. “Just saying good-bye and thank you.”

  Gentry lifted an eyebrow at Skye. “Good-bye.”

  “Yes.” Her heart gave a painful squeeze at the word. She held out her hand. “I’ll drive the limo back to the resort.”

  He tilted his head to the side, studying her like she was a piece of art he didn’t understand. “I don’t think so. I’ll call the driver and let him know he can pick it up here himself at his convenience.”

  Okay, so he was going to make her spell it out. Fine. “What I meant was—”

  But he didn’t let her finish. “Natalie, would you give us a minute?”

  With a nod, Natalie disappeared into the recesses of the jet to join Toby.

  “Listen, Gentry, this adventure with you has been great, but I can’t just blow off my life and run away with you.” She’d tried that once upon a time and all it had led to was heartache and shame.

  He waited to reply until Natalie was out of earshot, and when he turned his focus onto Skye again, there was an invitation in his eyes that could only be described as the call of the wild. “You think I’m gonna let you go so easily?”

  “You don’t have a choice.” This was her call to make. But even as she said the words, a wicked little voice, her inner thrill addict, whispered to her. What if …

  “Come with me, Skye. It’s just one night. Let’s get these kids married and then have a little fun of our own in my favorite city. Then I’ll fly you home tomorrow and you can get back to your masochistic search for a dweeb who won’t give you the life you want.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.” He might be all kinds of wrong about the life she wanted for herself, but he was right about one thing—the search was definitely masochistic.

  “I’m sure it is, but you and I have unfinished business and I fully intend to make good on my promises. Mardi Gras, remember?”

  “I have to work on Monday.” Damn, she sounded old.

  He shook his head, frustrated. “I’m not talking to the Skye who wants to settle down with a boring, church-going guy. Tell her to scram. I’m talking to the Skye who dared me to ride horses with her last night. I’m talking to the Skye I flirted with in my villa and kissed in the barn today. I’m talking to the Skye who just helped me smuggle a couple away from their own wedding. Give me that woman for one night. I’ll have you home in time for work on Monday and you can get back to trying to tame yourself.”

  She shivered at his words, every one of them loaded with unspoken hedonistic promises. The trouble was, she wanted to tame herself. She was tired of the morning-after guilt, of feeling like a bad Catholic and a bad daughter. She was sick and tired of being alone, without real love. These flings and wild moments didn’t get her one inch closer to the person she wanted to be or the life she wanted to lead.

  But what if it didn’t have to be that way? What if she could prove to herself that she was capable of having a little fun without wrecking her life?

  “I can see the wheels turning, Skye. I don’t have any promises about the future I can make you, but I have tonight and my promise to you is that I am going to brand myself into your memory so that every time you hear my name or hear my song on the radio, your cheeks flush like they are right now and your eyes turn dark and hungry when you think back to the night we spent together. Let me give you that, baby.”

  Those words, coupled with the way he crooned the word baby in that low twang, made the last chains of her resistance snap. Suddenly, acutely, the idea of turning him down and walking away was unbearable. She deserved this. She deserved one last thrill before she gave it all up—the reckless choices, the fear of commitment and the unmarriable men she was attracted to because of it. On Sunday, after he’d returned her home, she’d get serious about staying on the straight and narrow path. True to her family and her faith. But not tonight. Tonight she would bid a final farewell to her old ways, and she’d do it in s
tyle—private jet, rock god, and all.

  He held out his hand, beckoning. “You know you want to.”

  More than anything. Which is why she left Good Girl Skye standing on the top of the staircase as she took Gentry’s hand and followed him into the plane.

  Chapter Six

  Skye couldn’t take her eyes off Dolly Parton’s mole. She wasn’t exactly a Dolly Parton expert, but she definitely didn’t remember the singer having a beauty mark the size of a chocolate chip on her upper lip, nor did Skye think the real dame was quite as thick in the waist. But, Fake Dolly had the accent down pat, along with eyes that blazed with Southern fire in a way that was unmistakably Parton.

  Besides, Natalie and Toby seemed to be having the time of their lives, which was all that mattered. They hadn’t taken their eyes or their hands off each other since the jet had taken off in Texas. The lovebirds had chosen the Islands in the Stream Chapel because, apparently, one of their best dates had been to the Dollywood amusement park. Go figure.

  Skye’s first wedding had been at a courthouse in front of a justice of the peace. At the time, that had felt so rebellious. She’d been high on the rebelliousness of the act, and on her love for Mike. What a joke.

  The kitschy neon-lights-and-silk-flowers charm of Islands in the Stream captured Skye’s romantic, if restless, heart. She would love to get married in a chapel like this, if only her faith and her family were a little bit more flexible about how a couple could tie the knot and keep their good standings. She’d texted her sister from the plane to let her know she was safe, but had turned the phone to airplane mode before her sister could text back with her judgment, which so often mirrored their mom’s. Standing in as the maid of honor next to Dolly Parton and the ceremony officiant, Skye was acutely aware of the rift in her soul, the good Catholic girl who honored her family and their traditions and the free spirit who craved the novelty and thrill of nights like this, chapels like this, men like Gentry.

  Gentry stood across from her as the best man. Skye looked across the backs of the bride and groom at Gentry. He’d slicked back his shaggy, rock-star hair as best he could after removing his ball cap for the ceremony and had borrowed a blazer from the officiant, and he’d cleaned up pretty well, though there was no disguising his cowboy swagger beneath that tenuous guise of respectability. Case in point, his guitar was up at the altar, propped against a chair, and Gentry was ready to perform as soon as the vows had been said.

  For a man who’d sworn he wasn’t the marrying type, he’d sure gone all out to make tonight as flawless and romantic as possible. After he’d called the clerk’s office from the limo to make sure they’d be open, and while Natalie and Toby were getting their marriage license, he’d reserved a hotel room for the newlyweds. He’d even sprung for the chapel’s most expensive package, the “9 to 5 deluxe,” which included an award-winning Dolly Parton performer, a bouquet of flowers for the bride, and even an end-of-ceremony performance from the dancing waters fountain behind the podium.

  Skye couldn’t wait to check out the dancing waters, but at the moment, Dolly Parton was reading a blessing—which happened to be the last verse of her song “I Will Always Love You.” When she finished, the officiant opened a leather folio and began the actual ceremony. It was a little bit of a bummer that Dolly herself couldn’t marry them, but those were the rules.

  As the officiant read the vows, Skye experienced her first moment of regret at her role in the elopement. Those vows were such a profound promise of forever and ever, no matter what—the very same promise that Skye had made when she was only a little younger than Natalie and Toby. What was she doing, encouraging these kids to pledge their lives to each other when, clearly, they weren’t yet mature enough to speak up for themselves to their parents? She knew better. She should have advised them to wait.

  Then again, who was she to give such advice? She was the one who’d hopped onto the private plane of a sexy musician she’d only just met the night before, aiding and abetting with two resort guests’ ill-conceived elopement plan in a way that might compromise her business’s contract with the resort. But there was no regret about how alive she felt that night. Vital. This impetuous, risk-taking flight of fancy was as intoxicating as a drug.

  The regret was useless anyway. She was here, and Natalie and Toby were getting married, and that was that. No more thoughts of Mike the Mistake or their ill-fated wedding, she scolded herself. Tonight was about fun and forgetting. One last thrill. She could keep this—whatever this was—in its tidy box, separate from her real life. Maybe that’s what the wild woman inside of her needed: the occasional relief.

  Skye tuned back into the ceremony in time to watch Natalie and Toby exchange rings and those huge, binding vows. As they kissed, the Dolly impersonator and the officiant broke out in a rousing rendition of “Islands in the Stream,” which Gentry joined them on with his guitar. The next moment, the dancing waters sprung to life behind them in a blaze of pink and blue, waving like hula dancers in time to the music.

  Skye’s heart was bursting with love and hope for the newlyweds, and she sent up a silent prayer that they always return in times of struggle to their memories of tonight and how they fought for their love to unfold according to their own visions instead of anybody else’s. Their kiss dissolved into laughs of pure joy that only ebbed when Toby shifted Natalie in his arms for an impromptu dance.

  As the song wound down, Gentry sidled up next to Skye. “I think our work here is done.”

  She held up her hand and he high-fived her as they shared a smile of accomplishment that made Skye’s heart do a flip-flop. How could it be that Skye felt such a strong bond with a man she’d known for two days? “We did good, partner.”

  “I’ll say. There’s just one more thing.” When the song ended, he raised his guitar with a whistle to get everyone’s attention. “May I be the first to congratulate the bride and groom?”

  Skye, the officiant, and Dolly clapped. Gentry kissed Natalie’s cheek. “Skye and I are about to take off, but before we do, we have a gift for the bride and groom.”

  Skye didn’t remember any gift, so she wasn’t sure where the we came from, but it was certainly sweet of Gentry to include her.

  Toby shook his head. “You’ve already given us too much.”

  But Gentry waved away the protest. “The limo we rode to get here is yours for the night. But I suggest you have it take you straight to the Four Seasons, where we reserved a room for you, our treat. Just tell the front desk your names. They’re expecting you.”

  Whoever said money didn’t buy happiness would change their tune if they could have felt the giddiness radiating off Natalie and Toby. Not that Skye faulted them. It really was such a generous gift. But that seemed to be Gentry’s usual M.O. He was generous with everything—except his promises. As he’d told her their first night together and then again in the plane, he couldn’t promise Skye anything more than this night.

  That was fine with Skye because it mirrored her vision for the two of them—didn’t it?

  With a squeal, Natalie threw her arms around Gentry. “Thank you, Gentry. I love the Four Seasons! I’ll never forget everything you did for us today. You made tonight so special.”

  Toby shook his hand. “That’s … wow. I’ll be forever in your debt. Both of you,” he added, smiling at Skye.

  “We’re happy we could help,” Skye said. Which was true. She may not have gotten them a room at the Four Seasons, but she’d done everything in her power to make sure they had the wedding of their dreams.

  “What are you two going to do for the rest of the night?” Natalie asked, looking between Gentry and Skye.

  Gentry turned to look at Skye with a smile that was pure wolf. “You two are already having the best night of your life, and I think it’s time Skye and I take a shot at that too. I’ve got big plans for this one.”

  He set his hand on the small of Skye’s back, his splayed fingers dipping measurably lower than what would have been polite
. Skye’s whole body heated. She arched her hips, filling his hand. Hot damn, she couldn’t wait to find out what he had in mind.

  Chapter Seven

  “Like most good stories, this one’s gonna involve a bar. And not just any bar.”

  They strolled down Broadway, arm in arm, through the heart of Nashville’s Music Row, past one famous spot after another, including the RCA Studio B, where Elvis famously recorded more than two hundred songs and that also served the likes of Dolly Parton and a bevy of other indelible musicians that seemed to be near and dear to Gentry’s heart.

  There was no mistaking the affection in his tone as he schooled Skye on Nashville’s illustrious musical history, interspersing the story with tales of his own rise to fame after years spent paying his dues in the dive bars and nightclubs that dotted the city. Despite the late hour, the sidewalks hummed with the promise that the night was just getting rolling.

  “A special bar?”

  “Not just any special bar, but the Wild Beaver Saloon, the bar Neil Blevins discovered me in.”

  Skye had never heard such a ridiculous name for a bar. “Wild beavers aren’t that exciting, you know. They tend to keep a low profile and keep themselves busy damning up rivers. But I have a hunch this honky-tonk joint is nothing like a wild beaver.”

  “You’ll see soon enough,” he said with a boyish grin that made her heart do a flip-flop.

  Her gaze drifted over the neon lights of the gift shops and other stores that they passed. Open late for retail establishments, they were probably trying to catch a few sales with the late-night crowd. There were certainly plenty of people on the street to justify the extended hours. At the sight of a woman’s clothing shop, a sudden burst of inspiration hit her. “If you’re taking me to a honky-tonk bar, then I need a better outfit. This uniform isn’t gonna do.”

  She grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him inside. She wasn’t usually one to spend a man’s money willy-nilly, but she wouldn’t mind if Gentry shared a little of his generosity with her, especially if she paid him back with a hot little number like the slinky red dress that first caught her eye.