by Lelly Hughes
Now, we’re sitting in a quaint little bistro, not far off the Row. It’s quiet, the staff recognized me but hasn’t said anything, which is why I love Nashville so much. Although I have to say after being in Los Angeles for a month and not being hounded by the media, the quiet was nice as well, except I know they can be relentless.
Zara and I spent the better half of our morning surfing through gossip sites, looking for articles about her. I told her I didn’t think we’d find much of anything, but she assured me otherwise. She was right, and each article we clicked on and read, my heart broke a bit more for her. The media is demanding to know where she is, what she’s been doing. They’re invasive, interviewing anyone that might know her whereabouts and whether or not she’s with Van. One site even went as far as to call the rehab center her ex is in to get a comment from him. Of course, he didn’t have any idea where Zara was, and that has really spurred the “Where’s Zara Phillips?” frenzy.
She’s with me, and I couldn’t be happier. I try not to think about the fact that I’ve only known her a week because it feels like she’s been in my life for years. Zara just fits. Watching her walk around my house this morning, I could easily see her there, every day, helping me get the kids off to school. My only concern is Stormy, and how she’s going to feel once she finds out that Zara and I aren’t content with being just friends. The last thing I want to do is upset her, to make her feel uncomfortable around Zara or to think I used her in any way whatsoever.
“Do you know what you want?” I ask, looking at her from over the top of my menu. Her hair is hidden under her knit beanie, something she was insistent upon doing before we left the house. Truth be told, I like her hair. I like the way it stands out against her creamy skin.
“I don’t know. What’s good?” she asks, taking a sip of her water.
“I’m a meat guy.” I found out quickly during breakfast that Zara rarely eats meat if she can help it. I admire her for sticking to her convictions and not giving into the temptation of bacon that I was waving in her face this morning. “I’m going to go with the turkey club.”
She scrunches her nose and shakes her head. “Salad?”
Now I’m the one shaking my head. “Get something real. This isn’t our first date.” Of course, as soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realize that yes, this could be considered a date.
“Okay, how about I get a BLT minus the B, with a cup of soup?”
“Sounds good, and for you Mr. Austin?” the waitress says. I hadn’t heard her approach, but it seems that she was within earshot of Zara’s order. I tell her what I want and hand her the menus.
“Does everyone know you in town?”
I shrug and grimace. “Sort of, I guess. I mean it’s kind of hard not to, ya know?” Zara reaches across the table and fiddles with my fingers until I take her hand in mine. It feels damn good to be connected to her like this. “I’m willin' to bet a few people know you too.” As the words tumble out, I fear that she’s going to let go of my hand. She doesn’t. Instead, she leans toward me with her lips somewhat puckered. I’d be a fool to not kiss her, but am also fearful of our surroundings.
The wrong brain takes over, and I find myself locking lips with the gorgeous woman across from me. The kiss is sweet, tender and slightly erotic as she slips her tongue into my mouth and moans. She pulls back, all too soon for my liking, and has a wicked smile on her face.
“That was evil,” I tell her. “But I enjoyed it.”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for hours. There’s no one around so I thought now would be a good time.”
I rub my thumb over the top of her knuckle while gazing into her eyes. I’ve never been one to keep eye contact for very long, but staring at Zara is like learning a new song. I can’t get enough, and I want more. Each and every day, I want more.
“You can kiss me anytime, darlin’.” This time I’m the one initiating, and she’s all too eager to meet me in the middle, except now I’m cupping her face and turning my head at such an angle that if anyone is looking, they see mostly my ball cap.
When we part, the smile that is spread across her wet lips is worth all the stares we’re likely getting from the staff. The door chimes, causing me to sit up straight. The group that walks in is young and looks like they should still be in high school. I pull my hat down a bit lower and try to avoid making eye contact.
It doesn’t work because one of the girls is walking toward us. “Sorry,” I mutter to Zara.
“It’s okay. If anyone gets it, I do.”
Maybe that is why we’ve connected so well because she understands this life, even if I don’t understand the magnitude of hers.
The teen girl approaches our table. I smile and prepare myself to answer all her questions, stand to pose for a picture and give her whatever autographs she wants, as long as it’s done quickly so I can go back to Zara. But she’s not looking at me. She’s focused on Zara.
“You’re Zara Phillips, right?” the teen asks.
My eyes bug out at the mention of her name as Zara’s face goes even paler than she already is. I open my mouth to say something, but words escape me. It wasn’t moments ago that I told her I thought someone would know her, but I honestly never expected this to happen.
“I am,” Zara says softly. I try to decipher if she’s upset or put off like I am, but I can’t tell.
“OH! MY! GOD!” The girl squeals in a high-pitched tone that has my ears bleeding. “I am so in love with you and Van. I mean, you’re like the perfect couple, and I just know this separation is nothing more than a publicity ploy because your new album is coming out. But seriously, why are you in Nash?”
My blood boils at this chick’s onslaught toward Zara, not to mention the bullshit statement about her separation from Van being a publicity ploy. The expression on her face is a mixture of hurt, anger, and disgust. It’s fans like this that make us want to stay home and live the life of hermits.
And Nash? Is that some hipster term that I’m not aware of?
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Zara says as she extends her hand to shake that of the teens. She’s more humble than I would be right now.
“You too, it’s like… this is like my dream come true and stuff.”
And stuff? What other stuff could there be?
“Is Van here?” she asks, looking around the bistro. I look too because surely someone is playing a cruel joke on us right now.
“No, sorry,” Zara looks at me and pleads for help. Of course, I’m going to give it to her. I signal for the waitress and hand her twenty.
“Sorry, we’re fixin' to leave.” I reach for Zara’s hand and hold it firmly in mine.
“Wait, you’re not with him, are you? That’s like…”
We don’t hear what it’s like because we’re out the door and I’m helping her into my truck. I rush to the other side and get it, and quickly start it.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, knowing nothing I say right now is going to make things any better.
“It’s not your fault. I probably shouldn’t have kissed you.”
As soon as I’m out in traffic, I look at her. “Don’t say that.”
She grimaces and shows me her phone. Sure enough, there’s a picture of us kissing while inside the place. It was taken from one of the other patrons or staff. I shake my head and take her phone from her hand setting it on my dash asI pull her to me. Zara rests her head on my shoulder, not caring that we’re in traffic and that people can see inside my truck.
“So maybe venturing out in public isn’t what we do just yet,” I say as I navigate us home.
“I’m not embarrassed to be with you, if that’s what you’re saying, Levi. I like you a lot, or I wouldn’t be with you right now, and we definitely wouldn’t have slept together.”
“I know I’m just--”
“Worried?” she asks.
I nod. At the same time, both our phones start going off. My console tells me that Barbara is calling and when Zara takes her
phone off the dashboard, she shows me that the name is Laura.
“That’s my bitch publicist,” she says with a sneer.
“I’ll answer mine,” I tell her, pressing the button on my steering wheel. “Hello, Barb.”
“Levi, what have you done?”
I look at Zara and wink. “You’ll have to be a little more specific. The past few days I have done quite a bit of stuff.”
“With Zara? It’s all over the wires. My email is going crazy; my phone is ringing off the hook. I thought she was just a friend.”
“She was,” I say. “And now she’s not.” I kiss Zara on her temple and return my eyes to the road. The last things I want to do is put her life in danger or leave my children without a father. Although, there’s a good chance that Stormy may hate me after this.
“Levi, believe me when I tell you, this has disaster written all over it. No one is going to understand how American’s Country star ended up with a rocker from Los Angeles who is heading for a nasty divorce.”
“No one needs to understand anything, Barb. This is the stuff my songs are about, finding love when you least expect it. I can tell you right now, Zara and I didn’t expect to have a connection.”
“No we didn’t,” she says softly.
“Wait, is she in the truck with you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Why don’t you come over for dinner and let’s chat? See you in a few hours.” I don’t give Barbara a chance to reject my invitation before hanging up. I pull over to the side of the road and turn to face Zara.
“I don’t care about what others say,” I tell her. “I want to be with you, to explore where we can take this. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”
“Me either,” she says, pulling me into a kiss.
Chapter 23
Zara
For a brief moment I think about running away, finding some place to disappear where no one will know me, but that means leaving Levi and the thought of not being with him or even near him puts an ache in my chest.
I shouldn’t feel this way about him so soon. Days… that is how long we’ve known each other, and I’ve already given him more in a short amount of time than I did my own husband. Granted, Van and I met when we were teens, and I made him wait a year before I slept with him, but not Levi.
No, I threw myself at Levi. I never backed down and bore all for him to take or leave. He took and took greedily as if I were the fountain that kept him fed for all eternity. Yet, here I am contemplating an escape because someone took a photo of us and put it on social media.
Deep down I knew that would happen, despite what Levi said about people being cool in Nashville. No one in their right mind isn’t going to post a picture of Levi Austin out and about with some wild looking woman on his arm. I wasn’t shy about holding his hand either. Hell no, I wanted to stake my claim. Let all the women staring at him know that he chose me.
And it backfired. I let my guard down. I knew better than to kiss him in public. Holding hands is one thing, but sealing the deal is another. The moment his publicist’s voice echoed through the cab of his truck, I knew it was only a matter of time before mine would start calling. Sure enough, Laura’s deceiving face lights up my phone. Her smug smile mocks me, reminding me that I need to fire her but can’t do it unless the band is on board. Somehow I doubt that will happen.
Levi gives me a sideways glance, no doubt hoping I won’t answer the call. Nothing good can come from Laura and me speaking, especially about the picture online. As much as I don’t want to talk to her, I should, because if I don’t answer now, she won’t give up.
“Hello, Laura,” I say in a snide voice that is very unlike me. I make sure to have her on speakerphone so Levi can understand the difference between her and Barb. I know Barb isn’t fond of Levi hanging out with me, but I’d take her any day over the publicist I have.
“Play time is over, Zara.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“This whole eye for an eye thing you’re doing to Van. He gets it. He’s sorry and wants you to come home. He expects you to be there when he checks out of rehab.”
I roll my eyes as my thumb hovers over the End button on my phone. One would like to think that she would side with me, just once, over this Van bullshit, but she never will because she was all too happy to spread her legs for him.
“Is there a reason you called, Laura?”
She laughs as if I’m wasting her time. “Zara, I know you’re hurt, but this is reality. Shacking up with some random, ahem, cowboy isn’t going to make things change between you and Van.”
“He’s not random,” I say, feeling the need to correct her even though I don’t care what she thinks.
“Come home, Zara. Everyone knows you’re there now so you might as well face them on your own turf, with your own people.”
I look at Levi, who has his eyes focused on the road. I lean my head on his shoulder and sigh. He is my people. He makes me feel safe, loved and perfect. I can be me when I’m around him. He hasn’t asked me to change or to be someone I’m not, even when he tried to get me to buy cowgirl boots.
“Zara are you there?”
I almost wish I wasn’t, at least on the other end of the phone. “I’m here, Laura. Is there something you want? Unless it has to do with Reverend Sister, we really don’t have anything to talk about.”
“This attitude you have, and you wonder why Van left you,” she pauses, waiting for me to correct her, but I don’t. “The label isn’t happy, Zara. They’re afraid that your inability to forgive Van will hurt the band.”
“It’s my band.” I point out.
“But he’s the star, and you know it. If Van walks, Reverend Sister is no more.”
She’s right, but I refuse to believe her. Levi kisses the top of my head as we pull into his driveway. There’s a car there, likely belonging to his housekeeper.
“Come home, Zara. You know it’s the right thing to do. No man is worth losing your record deal or band over.” She hangs up, leaving me speechless. I’m afraid to look at Levi, unsure of what I’ll see when I do.
He opens the truck door and slides out, bringing me with him. I’m flush with his body as he presses me up against the side of the truck. Levi’s arms encase me. “Close your eyes, Zara.”
I do as he says and pucker my lips, but his never press against mine.
“Now pretend I’m not here, that what we shared last night and into this morning hasn’t happened. Think about the day before you met me, and what it would’ve been like if I hadn’t spilled my coffee on you. Think about your home in Bel Air with your swimming pool and favorite coffee shop down the street. Think about your brother and other band members.”
I do as he asks and hate the way I feel. Something deep down tells me that I’m supposed to know Levi, that he and his girls are meant to be a part of my life.
“Now, tell me how you feel.”
“Empty,” I say with my eyes still closed. “Alone.” This time I open my eyes and find Levi even closer. My hand instantly goes to his cheek and my thumb brushes over his lips. “Not happy.”
“Are you happy here?”
“I am. It’s peaceful, tranquil, and most importantly, you’re here, and this is where I want to be. I have no regrets, Levi.”
He kisses me fully, pulling my legs up to hitch around his hips so he can grind into me. The hardness of the truck pushes into my back, and I cry out but hold on to him because I don’t want him to stop. We’re all hands, tongues, and dry humping until someone behind us is clearing their throats.
Levi sets me down, waiting until my feet are firmly planted on the ground before turning to face the intruder.
“Barb, I didn’t see your car here.”
“It’s in the shop,” she says as she leans slightly to the left to see me. I feel like I’ve been caught by my mother doing something I shouldn’t be doing. “Hello, Ms. Phillips.”
“Please, call me Zara.”
“V
ery well. I’m here to do damage control or something,” she says, giving off a flippant wave before returning to the house.
Levi faces me again with a shit-eating grin on his face. “When I was seventeen my mother walked in on Iris and I having sex. I wasn’t as embarrassed as I am now.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Me either. She’s definitely a mother hen.”
“You have no idea.” He takes my hand and leads me into the house. Barbara is sitting at his large table with her hands folded as if this were a parent/teacher conference. Levi and I take seats next to each other, holding hands under the table.
“Right, let’s get started. Zara, I took the liberty of looking up your publicist. I’ve been around a long time and haven’t had the privilege of working with her--”
“You’re not missing anything.”
“Right… anyway, sign this for me, please. It’s a consent that I can contact her on behalf of you and Levi when something like this arises.”
“Can you be her voice when it affects us?” Levi asks. “We’d much rather have you speak on our behalf than her publicist.”
“Is that what you want?” Barbara looks at me, and I nod. “Very well. We are releasing a statement. I know it’s early, but I want to beat the vultures.”
“Saying what?” I ask.
“Mr. Austin and Ms. Phillips met last month in Los Angeles while he was tending to his children after their mother’s untimely death. Ms. Phillips is vacationing in Tennessee at this time.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes, simple and to the point. I can add something about your divorce if you’d like,” Barb says. Her pen is poised and ready for action. I look at Levi, who shrugs.
I think about having her add something about my divorce, but I don’t know what. The last thing I want is for people to think that Levi is a rebound because he’s not. I shake my head, letting her know that what she has is okay. Although, I’m not sure she believes me because she gives me a skeptical look that has me questioning my sanity.