by Sonya Clark
Jillian patted her arm. “You think about it. He may be a little on the wild side when he’s in the mood, but he’s not mean. A little fun would do you both some good.”
They talked for a few more minutes, mostly about Jillian’s new hair, inspired by her twelve year old daughter who had recently entered a heavy beauty magazine and Youtube video phase. After agreeing to set up a lunch date with Megan, they went their separate ways.
Daisy spent the next few days working and reading and thinking things through. She hadn’t meant to cut herself off from dating after what happened with her last boyfriend. It just sort of happened. Winding up in the hospital had forced her to take a good, hard look at her life. Fear that she was following in the footsteps of her mother and sister drove her out of dating for a time. After a while, she found that she didn’t miss it. School kept her busy, as did extra shifts at Rocky Top and spending time with her friends. If anyone brought up her status as perpetually single, she just shrugged and said she’d date when she felt like it.
It just so happened that she hadn’t felt like it in over two years. But now...maybe now she did. It felt good to have her instincts about Wade confirmed by Jillian. The temptation to embark on a summer fling with a fun guy who would want nothing from her but a good time was enormous. Jillian wasn’t kidding – Daisy had been working her ass off, between classes and her job. Surely she was due a break. Hell, a reward, even, for all those long hours of study and nights on her feet at the bar.
She had Wade’s number but couldn’t make a decision. Finally on Saturday night, his choice of song and her libido made the decision for her. Late in his last set, he surprised her and everyone else still listening when he launched into a bit of classic soul – Rainy Night In Georgia.
Daisy stood by the bar, her serving tray tucked against her stomach and her gaze on the stage. Wade’s deep voice wrapped around the song’s lyrics like a lover, the tempo slow and sensuous. His eyes were half-closed. His fingers caressed the guitar strings.
It wasn’t hard to imagine those fingers caressing skin. Her skin. Soft, lazy strokes meant to gently arouse. Sure, confident touches designed to stoke her desire to a fever pitch.
“Girl,” Ronisha said in a breathy voice as her hands stilled while drying a glass.
“Yep,” Daisy agreed.
On the stage, Wade gripped the microphone, his big hand covering the base and holding it tight as he sang the chorus. Would he use that same strong grip to hold a woman’s wrists while she moved underneath him? That same bold strength to take her thighs and open them to make room for his body?
“Damn.” Ronisha slapped the surface of the bar with a white towel.
“Hell yeah.” Daisy swallowed the hot, dry taste of need at the back of her throat.
Mind made up, anticipation uncurled through her body like a waking cat. She was leaving the bar with Wade tonight, and she planned to have a damn good time afterward.
Chapter 14
Wade finished his last set with a flourish and packed up his gear. He scanned the main room for Daisy, then the smaller dining room. She stood by the window holding a pitcher of tea and chatting with the two couples seated at the table. Her long blond waves were in a ponytail tonight. He imagined searching the back of her neck for sensitive spots, first with his fingers and then his lips. Would she shiver or squirm? Would she encourage him or play it cool? There were so many things he wanted to discover about her.
He’d already double checked the schedule posted in the break room. She’d be done with her shift soon, at eleven. He went to the back and waited, playing cards with Alonzo and Toby with one eye on the clock. Alonzo was collecting his winnings for the latest hand when Daisy came in to get her things and punch her time card out.
Daisy snickered as she addressed Wade. “What, all that time playing gigs at casinos and you can’t play poker any better than that?”
“I’m more of a blackjack guy,” he lied, not wanting to admit he’d played sloppy because he was so distracted. “Hey, Ronisha said Megan dropped you off tonight. Something wrong with your car?”
“My brother’s got it until tomorrow. He’s giving it a tune-up and oil change.”
“That’s nice of him. Where’s he work?”
“He’s more of a shade tree mechanic these days. Donny’s good with cars but not so good with holding down a job.” She dropped into the chair between Wade and Toby. “Megan texted me. Her dad’s having a bad night. I may be stuck here a while.” Was he imaging things or was there a hint of invitation in her smile?
Toby said, “My brother and I can take you when he comes to get me.”
Wade cut a quelling glance at the kid. “I’m done for the night. I can drive you home.”
Alonzo mumbled something in Spanish and rose to his feet. “Let’s go clean up the kitchen, Toby.” He clapped Wade on the shoulder and grinned. “This man here has his work cut out for him.”
Toby scrunched his face in confusion. “Huh?”
Alonzo ushered the younger man out of the break room with an emphatic mix of Spanish and English.
Daisy studied Wade with a cool gaze that made him reconsider his tactics. Sometimes charm worked. Sometimes you just had to bite the bullet and take the direct approach. This seemed like one of those times.
He picked up the cards and shuffled the deck slowly. “I’d be happy to see you home. We didn’t get to go for a drive the other day, we could do that tonight.”
“It’s eleven o’clock at night.” There was no hostility in her voice so he took that to heart.
“I’m too keyed up to go home.” He placed the deck of cards on the table between them. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”
“Is that right?” Something in her tone made heat curl in his belly.
“Unless you don’t want me to be.”
She touched the deck, her fingers caressing the top card. “Tell you what. I’m feeling reckless tonight.”
The heat in his body became a flame. “That has potential.”
“We’ll each draw a card. If you get the high card, you get what you want. Whatever you want.”
Wade swallowed. If he played this right, and drew the high card, this could lead to more than just one good night. To make that happen, he had to surprise her. Had to make her not only enjoy the time with him tonight, but want more. So did he do that with sex or romance? To figure that out, he had to figure out what he wanted.
Though, Jesus, he was probably the world’s biggest idiot for even debating the question. She was offering him sex. That much was clear. All he had to do was draw that high card. The realization helped him find his answer.
He gestured at the deck. “Ladies first.”
Daisy hesitated, her hand hovering above the cards. Then she picked up the top card and held it aloft so they both could see it. “Ten of diamonds.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s a high card. Gonna be tough to beat.”
“Best of luck to you,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Now, what do you get if you win?”
“Whatever I want,” she said slowly.
Wade sucked in a breath. She wasn’t offering sex, she was practically promising it. He paused with his hand over the deck, watching her. Color flushed her cheeks. Her eyes were glittery and bright, her mouth red as a ripe strawberry, offered up for him to taste. For a weak moment, he wanted her to win. Or for him to win, and to give her what she so obviously wanted. But that would likely mean one night, and only one night.
It surprised him to realize just how much he wanted more than that.
“Here goes nothing.”
He kept his face expressionless as he checked the card before showing it to her. He tossed it onto the table face up. “King of hearts.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Bullshit.”
“What can I say? I guess it’s just my lucky night.” How he’d managed that, he’d never know. But he silently thanked God, the Baby Elvis, and whoever was the pat
ron saint of washed up country singers looking for love in all the wrong places.
“How did you cheat?” She crossed her arms and eyes him suspiciously.
“I never cheat at cards.” He indicated his arms, bare below the sleeves of his black t-shirt. “No hidden cards, no tricks. Just honest to goodness luck.”
Her mouth curved into a smirk. “Well, I guess I’m yours for the rest of the night.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. “Let me text Megan, then we can go.”
“Aren’t you going to ask what I’ve got in mind?”
“I told you, I’m feeling reckless.” She attacked the keyboard of her phone with her thumbs. Finished, she dropped it back into her purse and stood. “Better take your chance while you can, cowboy. You might not get another.”
Any doubts about what he had planned for the next couple of hours fell away. This girl needed what he wanted to give her almost as much as he did.
His truck ate up the pavement on the highway to the lake, headlights picking out the yellow eyes of an occasional animal in the trees at the side as they went around curves. Daisy turned his radio from a country station to a pop station. He turned it back. She gave him a sharp look.
“Hey, you said whatever I want. The king of hearts says I get to pick the music.”
“How do you listen to this stuff? It’s not even like what you play.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of why I’ve been listening to it. I want to know what’s current in Nashville.”
“I don’t even like country and I can tell you that. It all sounds like high school kids.”
He laughed. “Don’t you sound like the crotchety old lady wanting all the kids to get off her lawn.”
She slapped at his arm. “Shut up. I’m way younger than you.”
The reminder stung a little. “But you don’t like that high school music.”
They were almost to the bridge that traversed the lake before she spoke again. “It all sounded so adult to me when I was growing up. I couldn’t relate to it. Now country is for younger people but I guess I’m old enough that I still can’t relate to it.”
“I get what you’re saying.” He pointed at the radio. “I’m not really getting anything out of this, either. I hadn’t bothered in a long time to pay attention to what’s new and popular. I mean, I’d hear it some but that didn’t mean I was really paying attention.”
“Yeah, that’s how I do at the bar when the jukebox is on. It’s there and some of it soaks in, but I don’t really pay that much attention.”
“Do you pay attention when I sing?”
“Every now and then.”
He caught the curve of her smile in the low light as he pulled the truck into the parking lot of the state park at the lake. The temptation to take her someplace more isolated had been great, but he didn’t want to test his resolve too much.
Daisy looked around. “What are we doing here again?” She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and ran her fingers through it.
He would have gladly volunteered to do that for her. “Stargazing.” He got out and opened the door to the extended cab, removed his guitar from its case and grabbed a blanket from his emergency kit, then walked around to open her door.
Daisy swung her legs out and nearly bumped into him. “Are you for real with this?”
“Haven’t you ever been stargazing before?” He tossed the blanket over his shoulder and offered her his hand. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise.”
After a moment she took his hand. They walked down to the grass in front of the beach, not far from the bandstand used for Fourth of July shows and other events. Wade picked a spot and had Daisy hold his guitar while he spread the blanket. Making sure he left enough room for both her and the guitar, he laid flat on the blanket with his hands linked across his chest and looked up at the sky. “The view’s best from down here.” He patted the space on the blanket next to him.
Daisy joined him. Her hair tickled the side of his face. He wanted to take a lock and smooth it through his fingers, know what it felt like against his skin. He cleared his throat and pointed at the sky. “That’s the Big Dipper right there.”
“That one, I know.”
He moved his hand to the left. “Bet you didn’t that one is called the Gibson F-4. You can tell because it’s the shape of a mandolin.”
“Uh.”
“And that over there.” He moved his hand to the north. “That’s a Gibson L-5.”
“Okay, I’ll play. What’s a Gibson L-5?”
“Specifically, it’s the 1928 Gibson L-5 guitar that belonged to Mother Maybelle Carter, one of the pioneers of country music. That constellation right there shines so bright, it’s inspired countless stargazers for decades.”
Her throaty laugh sent pleasant shivers up and down his spine. She pointed at a section of sky over the lake. “Okay, what’s that?”
Wade thought for a moment. “That is a Gibson RB-Granada Mastertone, a banjo.”
“And who did it belong to?”
“Earl Scruggs. He was one of the greatest banjo pickers and bluegrass players who ever lived.”
Daisy scooted closer to him. “What else is up there?”
He moved his arm to let her snuggle up next to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, one hand on his chest. “Back over there’s the 1944 Martin D-28 that belonged to Hank Williams. So many songs that still define country today were played on that guitar. It’s practically a holy relic.”
“You really love music, don’t you?”
“It’s who I am.” He rested his hand on his chest, fingers not far from hers. The night was quiet but alive. The steady lap of the water was joined by the occasional sound of a car going over the bridge. Crickets sang a constant chorus. A pair of owls did a call and response in the trees that dotted the picnic area. Peace filled him with an easy lassitude.
“Tell me about your guitar.”
Wade smiled. “My guitar is a Gibson Hummingbird electric acoustic in the wine red finish.” He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice.
“I do like that red.” She propped her chin on his chest and met his eyes. “And those hummingbirds are beautiful.”
“The only thing I like better than those hummingbirds is how beautifully it plays. That was my dream guitar. I wanted one since the first time I saw a picture of one. It didn’t hurt that Gram Parsons played a Hummingbird.”
“Who’s that?”
Gram raised his head to give her an incredulous look. “You don’t know who Gram Parsons was? The Flying Burrito Brothers?”
She ticked an eyebrow up. “Nope.”
“Shit.” Gently, he lifted her so he could sit up. She followed suit, crossing her legs and placing her hands on the blanket behind her. He picked up his guitar. “The Byrds and the Flying Burrito Brothers are why the Eagles existed. Why country rock exists still today. They were legendary.”
“Never heard of them,” she said. “Well, I have heard of the Eagles.”
“Thank God for that.”
“Would you like me to get off your lawn, old man?” Daisy grinned.
He leveled his index finger at her. “Watch your tone. This is one of your country music lessons. There will be a test.”
Daisy threw her head back and laughed. He drank in the glorious sound, let it fill him up. She said, “If you’re gonna test me, I guess you better tell me about the Flying Enchilada Brothers then.” She tapped his leg with her foot. “Better play me one of their songs, too.”
“Burrito,” he corrected. “Get it right.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I like you calling me sir, you keep that up.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I was taught to respect my elders.”
Wade settled the guitar across his lap. “Keep on teasing me about my age. We’ll see who wears out who.”
It was hard to tell in the dim light but he suspected her cheeks were stained a red almo
st as dark as his guitar. For once, she didn’t have a snappy comeback. Mindful of his intentions for the night, he forced himself back to thinking about music instead of all the things he’d like to do to wear her out.
“The Flying Burrito Brothers were a California band. They played country but it was a different kind of country. Some people called it cosmic country. Their sound was mellow and melodic. Some of their songs were so gentle, playing them is like holding something fragile in your hands, afraid you’re going to drop it and shatter it to pieces. They had a different sensibility. Rockers like Mick Jagger and Keith Richards were attracted to that sensibility. Gram Parsons wound up becoming the most famous member of the band.”
“What did he do to manage that?”
“Partly by being an amazing songwriter, partly by dying of an overdose when he was twenty-six years old. Out in the California desert of Joshua Tree.”
Daisy grimaced. “Shit.” She shook her head. “If he’d held on for a while, he could have made the twenty-seven club.”
The twenty-seven club, a group of artists who died at that age, included the likes of Robert Johnson, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janice Joplin, Kurt Cobain, and Amy Winehouse. “So you do know a little about music.”
“I like R&B and girl singers. I read about the twenty-seven club when Amy Winehouse died.”
“I’d heard of her but I’ve never really listened to her music.”
“You should. It’s really good.”
“What other girl singers you like?” Wade was genuinely curious about her taste in music. Finding out what kind of music spoke to someone, appealed to their sensibilities, always told him a lot about a person.
“Adele. Lana Del Rey. Pink.”
He had an Adele album but he’d have to look up the other names, check out their sound.
Daisy drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Play me something Gram Parsons sang.”