“It’s a deal.”
He removed his hat and fastened it in the hat rack in the ceiling above the console, brim up, the crown sitting through the loop of metal that held it in place. Glancing in the mirror, he fluffed his hair with his fingers where it had been smashed by the hat.
“Quit primping,” ordered Andi with a grin. “Come on, slave. Time’s a wastin’.”
***
Wade decided that watching Andi shop was like watching a whirlwind rip through town. She flew around the clothes racks, picking up anything that caught her eye, then headed for the dressing room, barely able to see over the stack in her arms, with him trailing along behind. At first, he hovered nearby, feeling self-conscious under the sometimes appreciative, sometimes questioning glances of women shoppers and the sales clerks. Then Andi popped out of the dressing room to get his opinion on a dress.
He figured she knew it looked great, but he appreciated her including him in the process. After she went back into the dressing room, he looked around and realized that by making a point of showing him the dress, she had validated his reason for being there in the other women’s eyes. She bought the dress and several other items, then it was on to the next store and the same routine.
She pulled one dress off the rack, a pretty blue print with short sleeves, a shirt style collar and a slightly gathered skirt. Just right for church, he thought, and figured she would get it. She took one look at the price and put it back. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s a designer label and costs four hundred dollars. Even I have my limits, and I don’t want anyone thinking I’m trying to show off.”
She disappeared into the dressing room, and he sat down in a chair conveniently placed a short distance from the main dressing room door. Setting the two large plastic shopping bags on the floor beside him, he relaxed, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
He hoped she would come out as she had done in the last store. There was a little black silk number he was interested in seeing, along with some other fancy ones. He supposed she might wear them on stage or somewhere in Nashville. Just thinking about her going back to work made him feel as if he had stepped on thin ice and fallen into a freezing river.
She walked out of the dressing room wearing a yellow dress with a wide ruffle at the neck and one at the bottom of each long sleeve. Wide horizontal ruffles covered the skirt from the dropped waist almost to her ankles. She stopped in front of the three-way mirror, turning from side to side. “What do you think?” she asked with a frown.
He tried valiantly to keep a straight face. “You want an honest opinion?” When she nodded, Wade took a deep breath. “Well, if you add a few feathers to your hair, you could be in the Fourth of July parade.”
She lifted her brow. “As?”
“A baby chick. Or you could cut the bill off an old cap, dye it yellow, and tie it around your face and go as a duck.” He chuckled when she glared at him.
She looked in the mirror again, wiggled, sending the ruffles flapping, and grinned. “It is a bit much.”
She waddled into the dressing room, making him laugh out loud. A few minutes later, she was back, wearing a beautiful magenta dress with a gauzy print overskirt. “Now, that’s nice. Feminine. And it’s a pretty color on you. I like it.” He was surprised to see how his praise made her face light up. Surely she heard compliments all the time.
She went back to try on something else, and he made faces at a toddler sitting in a stroller in the next aisle. He and the little fellow were busy entertaining each other when she returned. Wade glanced up and did a double take. Sucking in a deep breath, he sat up straight and stared.
The yellow dress had been a bit too much, but the black silk one was...a bit. Period. Although the neckline was wide, revealing most of her shoulders, it wasn’t low. And though the material skimmed her figure, it wasn’t too tight but merely flattering—as far as it went. He’d seen blouses that were longer.
“Do you like it?” she asked, uncertainty in her voice.
“Oh, baby, do I ever.” He picked up the bags, walked over, and stood behind her, attempting to shield her from the view of others in the store. “But I don’t want another man to see you in that dress.” He knew he sounded possessive and was revealing more of his feelings than he should, but he couldn’t help it. He watched her face in the mirror as delicate color spread over her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to embarrass you.”
“It’s all right. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about buying this to wear in the show. Now, I’m uncomfortable in it. I was before you said anything.”
“You’re beautiful in it, Andi, but other men won’t be able to see past the outside to the godly woman inside.”
“I guess I’ve got a lot more than just dusty corners for God to clean out. I have a lot to learn or maybe learn over,” she said sadly. “And a few real closets to go through.”
“Hey, wisdom comes over a lifetime. That’s why we’ve got the Holy Spirit to guide us. We always have something new to learn or overcome.” He leaned over so his mouth was close to her ear, his voice dropping low and ragged, “Now, go get out of that thing before I revert to a cave man.”
CHAPTER 9
They hit another store, where she found some Sunday dresses she was happy with, and he fussed at her for trying to do too much. “It’s habit. I usually only have an hour or two to spend before I have to get back and do a show or meet some other commitment.”
By the time they stopped for cookies and something to drink, they were both loaded down with bags and boxes. He also thought she was beginning to look tired. “Had enough?”
“Almost. I want to look at that denim vest over there in the window. I love all the embroidery on it.”
He smiled indulgently. “About the time I think I’ve figured out your style, you find something totally different.”
“I’m eclectic. What I wear depends on my mood. I might feel free as the wind—
“The magenta dress.”
She nodded. “Or like a rock, firmly fixed.”
“The gray dress for church.”
“Not bad for a cowboy.”
He glanced around, noting that more and more people were staring in their direction. “Uh-oh. Looks like you’ve been recognized.”
“Yep. It’s show time.” Andi smiled at a girl in her late teens a few tables over. Encouraged by her friends, the young woman finally worked up the nerve to come over.
“Excuse me, miss, but are you Andi Carson, the singer?” she asked, sounding polite and poised.
“Yes, I am.”
“Oh my gosh!” The girl turned toward her friends and squealed, jumping up and down. “It is her!” she screamed. “It’s Andi Carson!” She turned back to Andi. “Oh, Miss Carson, I love your music. I have everything you’ve ever done. Can I have your autograph?”
“Sure.” Andi dug a pen out of her purse. “Do you have anything for me to write on?”
The girl grabbed a napkin out of the hand of a middle-aged man at the table next to them. He stared for a second, then started laughing. “Will this work?”
“It’ll do. Just don’t forget and wipe mustard on it,” she teased.
“Oh, I won’t. I’ll keep it always.”
Andi cocked her head and studied the girl for a minute. It was hard to tell her age. She had long blond hair and green eyes and was pretty even with minimal makeup. She had a lilting, musical voice, but there was something else about it—something Andi couldn’t quite pinpoint—that intrigued her. Somehow, she knew the girl was a singer. She didn’t have the vaguest idea of how she knew it, but she did.
“I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Miss Carson. We were so worried about you.” By now the girl’s friends and at least twenty other people had congregated around the table.
“Thanks. I was worried there for a while, too. What’s your name?”
“Nicki Alexander.”
Andi signed the napkin and handed it to he
r, asking casually, “Do you sing, Nicki?”
“A-a little.” She turned pale and began to tremble.
“She’s really good, Miss Carson,” one of her friends chimed in. “She won the talent shows all through junior high and high school and always got the lead in our school musicals. Now she sings solos a lot at church.”
“Do you play an instrument, Nicki?”
“Y-yes, ma’am. Piano and guitar. I played saxophone in the school band.”
“Have you graduated?”
The girl nodded.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.” Her voice quivered, and she clenched her hands, unknowingly crumpling the napkin with Andi’s autograph.
“Take voice lessons?”
She shook her head. “We couldn’t afford voice and piano, too. There are five other kids in the family.”
Andi took Nicki’s ice cold hand and looked into her eyes. It was there, the intense desire, the need to free the music burning in her soul. “Do you want to be a musician, Nicki?” she asked quietly.
Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes. “More than anything,” she whispered. She cleared her throat and blinked hard. “It’s like I have to make music, Miss Carson. It’s in my head all the time. Sometimes the songs have words and sometimes they don’t, but they just seem to pour out.”
Andi squeezed her hand and released it. “I know exactly what you mean. Tell you what; ask this handsome cowboy here to tear off part of that sack and write your name and phone number on it and tuck it in his pocket so we won’t loose it.” She glanced around and smiled at the crowd, then looked back at Nicki. “I’d like to sit down and talk to you where it’s a little quieter. Would there be a good time this weekend to call you?”
“Anytime. I won’t set foot out of the house. You call when it’s convenient for you.”
Good girl. You think fast on your feet. “I’ll try not to make you wait too long.” Andi glanced at Wade, who had already torn off a big piece of the sack.
“Do you have another pen?” he asked, his eyes full of admiration and affection.
“Always.” She laughed and rummaged through her purse again. She tossed the pen to him, smiling her appreciation, then turned to the next person, immediately giving him her full attention.
Wade watched as Nicki started to write her name. The poor kid was shaking so hard, Andi probably wouldn’t be able to read it. “Here, why don’t I do that. It’s hard to write while standing up.” He jotted down her name and phone number, folded the paper precisely and tucked it into his shirt pocket, fastening the pearl snap on the flap. “There,” he said, patting his pocket, rustling the paper. “Safe and secure. I promise I won’t let it go through the washing machine.”
Nicki managed a feeble smile, then she leaned closer and whispered, “Will she really call?”
“She’ll call.” He had never been more certain of anything. “I can’t promise it will be today, though. She’s not completely recovered and has to stop whenever she starts getting tired.” He glanced at Andi. “Which looks like it’s going to be soon, but I reckon she’ll push it this time. Now, go over there and calm down before you try to drive home.”
“My friend is driving,” she said, straightening, looking dazed.
Wade laughed softly. “That’s good.” He hoped the friend she meant wasn’t the one who was dancing around, hugging Andi’s autograph to her heart. He decided Nicki needed something to do. “Could I ask a favor?”
She took a deep breath and shook her head, as if to clear it. Her eyes widened as she seemed to focus on Wade’s face for the first time. A tinge of pink touched her cheeks. “Uh, sure.”
“See the embroidered denim vest over in that window? Would you run over there and ask how much it is and see if they have a size eight?”
She glanced at Andi and grinned. “I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks.” He watched her blond ponytail bounce as she hurried over to the store, then turned his attention back to Andi. She smiled and chatted with each person for a minute as she signed an autograph for them on anything at hand—napkins, sales receipts, sacks, even the back of one kid’s T-shirt. He scanned the crowd, which seemed to keep growing. Her fans ranged in age from eight to eighty, and practically everyone had a kind word for her. The few who didn’t seemed merely awe-struck.
Nicki slipped up beside him. “The vest is on sale for forty-five dollars, and they have a size eight.”
“Thank you. Could I ask you to go get it for me? I don’t want to leave Andi alone.” When she nodded, her eyes shining with pleasure, he took out his wallet and handed her more than enough to cover the price and tax. “Do they gift wrap?”
“I’m not sure, but they do have gold gift boxes. I saw some on the shelf behind the counter.”
He glanced at Andi to make certain she wasn’t listening. “If they gift wrap, pick out some pretty paper, maybe flowers or something. If they don’t, the gift box will do, but ask them to put it in a sack when they’re done.”
“Gotcha.” As she hurried off, her friends joined her. She glanced back at Wade, grinned, and started talking a-mile-a-minute, obviously filling them in on what she was doing.
It took a while for Nicki and her entourage to return. By then Wade had grown concerned about the number of people lined up for autographs. Practically everyone who walked by either recognized her, or stopped and asked someone else about her and ultimately got in the line. He noted fatigue creeping into Andi’s smile. There was no way she could keep this up long enough to take care of them all. He leaned over before she looked up at the next person. “You’re going to have to stop in a minute.”
“I’m all right. I don’t want to turn anyone away.”
“You’ll have to. There are at least fifty people in line, and it keeps growing. Five more, and that’s it.”
She took a deep breath, and he noticed her hand shake minutely when she lifted it. “Ten more. And I promise I’ll quit.”
He didn’t like it, but he knew the stubborn tilt of her chin meant there could be no arguing with her. “Ten, it is. But not one person more.”
He stood up, counting down the line, and made a mental notation of who would be the last lucky person today. Gathering up the boxes and sacks with all of their purchases, he walked over to the nearby table where Nicki and her friends sat. “She’s getting tired. I’m going to take her out of here in a few minutes.”
“That may not be easy.” Nicki glanced at the line. “We know those guys about half-way down. They graduated three years ago. They can get downright nasty when they want to.”
Wade followed her gaze to the three men. He had already singled them out as troublemakers. One was slight, but the other two were big, strong farm boys. Judging from the way they laughed and poked each other in the ribs, they were thinking up any number of suggestive things to say to Andi.
“I saw them,” he said gravely. “You girls want to help me get her out of here?”
“We can carry all your stuff. Then your hands will be free in case you need to punch them out,” said one of Nicki’s friends, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes.
“I don’t expect it will come to that, but it would be a big help if you took care of these. Then all I’ll have to worry about will be Andi.” He looked way down the mall toward the entrance where they came in and sighed. Some bodyguard he was. They had over half the length of the mall to cover before they reached the Blazer.
He drew his keys out of his pocket and handed them to Nicki. “I’ve got a dark blue Chevy Blazer in the third space, second row, outside that far door.” He gave her the license number. “Bring it around to the side opposite the theater, and we’ll come out that exit.”
The four girls grabbed their purses and all of Wade’s packages and rushed off down the mall. To his surprise, none of them giggled or made light of the situation. Their expressions were determined, almost grim. He figured he didn’t have to worry about them taking anything, not with Nicki’s t
elephone number—and her dreams—in his shirt pocket.
He walked over to the people in line, starting behind the person they had decided would be last, explaining the situation. “I’m sorry, folks, but Miss Carson is going to have to call it a day. She’s still recovering and has been warned by her doctor to take it easy. Can’t get too tired, or she’ll have a relapse. Maybe she can set up something in a few weeks, and you can come back and talk to her then.”
Most of the people were disappointed, but understood. As those near the front of the line started to disperse, the ones in the back figured out what was going on and began to drift away, too. All except the three cowboys he had expected to cause a problem.
“Hey, you can’t do that. We’ve been waiting ten minutes,” protested the smaller of the three men. “We’re not leavin’ until we get to talk to her, are we, boys? We’ll just go pay her a little visit right now.” He poked the biggest man in the back, and he started to move forward.
Wade stepped into his path. “Miss Carson is tired. She won’t be doing any more visiting with her fans today.” He stood eye to eye with the younger man, who probably outweighed him by about twenty pounds. It didn’t matter.
“I don’t give a hang about anybody else, but she’s going to talk to us.”
“No, she’s not.” Wade stood his ground, his voice firm, his expression implacable. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other large man take a couple of steps backward, his hands raised slightly, fingers open and palms turned forward in a gesture indicating he didn’t want any part of a fight.
The man in front of Wade sneered. “You think you can stop all three of us?”
“I know I can.” I’m protecting the woman I love. Adrenaline surged through him, but he remained still. He didn’t want to fight, but he would if he had to. He had been in more brawls in his younger days than he liked to admit. He knew how to hold his own.
He saw uncertainty creep into the man’s eyes. “It’s Friday night,” Wade said softly. “You don’t want to go partying with a busted nose, do you?” The man shifted his stance, relaxing slightly, and for a second, Wade thought he was going to walk away.
Love Song Page 9