Chasing a Dream

by Beth Cornelison

  He levered up and turned a disappointed gaze on her. “You don’t believe me? Are you calling me a liar?”

  “I’m saying you’re not going to trick me into believing something as silly as that.”

  “Get a pen,” he challenged. “I’ll prove it.”

  She furrowed her brow and frowned at him. “Justin—”

  “Get a pen.”

  With a sigh, she got up from the bed, already well mussed from their lovemaking, and dug in her purse until she found a pen. “All right, wise guy. Prove it.”

  “Start with the one closest to my right shoulder blade, and then, well, you’ll figure it out. I can’t see my own back, so you’re on your own.”

  Studying his expression for any evidence of insincerity, but not detecting any, she put the pen down on a mole near his right shoulder blade and began a trial run. Obviously, she had the wrong combination. The shape she made looked nothing like a bear. She tried again. And again. Justin’s back looked like a road map, but no teddy bear emerged.

  “That’s not permanent ink, is it?” he asked after a few minutes.

  “I wish it were,” she returned grumpily, as his deception became more and more obvious.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because there is no damn teddy bear or any other animal on your back, and you’re a dirty dog for playing on my gullibility like that!”

  He laughed and twisted around to catch her hand in his. “Maybe you’re not connecting the dots right.”

  “Maybe you need a few more dots on your face!” She swiped at his nose and left a satisfyingly long stripe on its tip. The grin that blossomed on her lips sprang from her soul. Not since Angela’s death had she known this freedom to laugh and tease. Her happiness fed her hungry spirit.

  “Gimme that pen!” He grabbed for the pen, chuckling, but she stretched her arm to hold it out of his reach. He tickled her side. With a yelp, she drew her arm in to protect her ticklish underarm. The pen now within reach, he snatched it from her, and his eyes lit with a mischievous gleam.

  Tess wagged a finger at him. “Oh, no, you don’t!”

  She tried to scamper off the bed, but he hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her back. Climbing on top of her, he pinned her hands down as he straddled her, a task made easy since her laughter left her weaker than a kitten.

  Justin raised his T-shirt, which she wore, and drew on her stomach. “Stop laughing, your jiggling is ruining my artwork,” he complained.

  She bit the inside of her cheek to quell her giggles and tried to be still. But the pen tickled, and she squirmed. The heat of his thighs, trapping her hips, and the juxtaposition of his sex so close to hers started a prickle of anticipation.

  “There.” He capped the pen and swung his leg back over her as he stretched out at her side. Nestled against her, he stroked the length of her leg with his foot.

  Propping up, she peered down at her belly to see what he’d drawn. The figure was unrecognizable. “What is that?”

  “A teddy bear.”

  Tess’s giggles erupted again. “A musician you may be, but an artist you’re not.”

  “You kept moving. Besides, it probably looks more like a bear than those scribbles you were putting on my back.”

  She shook her head and gazed with a full heart at his shining eyes and the rugged lines of his handsome face. “You’re crazy. You know that?”

  “Better crazy than gullible.”

  Tess slugged his arm in jest.

  “Watch it. I still have the pen.” Holding the pen out of her reach, Justin rolled to her so that his body covered half of hers, then pressed a kiss on her lips. The touch of his warm mouth electrified her. Her body tingled, and her nipples peaked.

  “Now what do you want to do?” A sultry smile curved her lips, and she ran her fingers through the unruly waves of his hair. Playing the vamp gave her a heady sense of power and control she’d never had before. With Justin, she felt free to experience new possibilities.

  “We could channel surf.” He strummed her spine idly, his face the picture of lazy contentment, while he sent ribbons of desire spiraling inside her.

  “Channel surf? What do you mean?” Her voice sounded as thick and relaxed as his.

  “On the TV, you know, when you keep flipping from one station to another.”

  “Why would you do that?” She blinked her bewilderment.

  “Because I’m a man, and that’s what men do,” he answered in an unusually deep voice.

  Tess grinned. “I don’t like TV much. Never watch.”

  “Well, I do have another idea, but . . .”

  His singsong tone piqued her suspicion. “But what?”

  “It would mean getting dressed and going out.”

  A pang of disappointment and alarm pricked her bubble of bliss. “Out? Out where?”

  “I saw a little place back up the road that I thought . . . maybe . . .”

  “Spit it out, Boyd. What kind of place?”

  “A honky-tonk.”

  She wrinkled her nose and gave him her low, you-gotta-be-kidding laugh. “I’ll pass.”

  Justin scowled. “Damn it, Tess, why? You keep saying you hate country music so much, but you like the stuff I’ve played for you. Go with me tonight, and give it a try. Please?”

  He looked truly offended, even crushed by her refusal, and Tess’s heart turned over. How could she refuse him anything, after all he’d done for her?

  “It’s what I do, Tess. Country music is my life, my dream. Can’t you just—” She muffled his argument with a hand over his mouth. “All right. I’ll go with you.” Grinning his satisfaction, he scooted off the bed to dress, and his words rang in her ears. Country music is my life, my dream.

  His comment reminded her that their goals were incompatible. He wanted, deserved to have the music spotlight on him. She had no option but to hide. Any inkling of trying to stay with him dissolved with that fact.

  She hadn’t decided when or how she would try again to leave him, but they’d reach Nashville in one more long day of driving. Nashville had to mark the end of their association. She couldn’t let Justin give up his dream.

  But just for now, she wanted to pretend they could have a future together, a life as happy as the past three days had been. She wouldn’t spoil the night worrying about what would happen when they reached Music City.

  Justin drove them to a small, nondescript brick building. The lighted sign out front read: “The Watering Hole. Tonight Hank Jones and the Cattlemen.”

  Justin patted her leg. “Remember, you promised to keep an open mind and to try to have fun.”

  With a groan, Tess put on his cowboy hat. “Yes, sir.”

  He led her inside a dimly lit room where music blared. A thin haze of cigarette smoke swirled around the overworked ceiling fans. Jean-clad men and women in short skirts and cowboy boots danced in a crowded space in front of a tiny stage. Wood planking on the floor and exposed beams on the ceiling added to the barn-like, relaxed atmosphere.

  Moving a full ashtray off a table, Justin pulled out a ladder-back chair for Tess. “Want anything from the bar?” he yelled over the din of drums and guitars from the band playing on the small stage.

  “White wine spritzer.”

  Justin stared at her blankly for a minute. “Are you trying to get me beaten up?”

  “What?”

  “I can’t order a white wine spritzer in a place like this. Have you ever drunk a beer in your life?”

  Tess raised her chin a notch, insulted by the implication that she was a snob. “Yes.”

  “Will a beer do?”

  Tess rolled her eyes. “Why’d you ask what I wanted if my only choice is a beer?”

  “I didn’t ask what you wanted. I asked if you wanted anything from the bar. At a place called ‘The Watering Hole’ that usually means beer or whiskey.”

  Tess tried to frown at him, but his blue eyes twinkled devilishly. “I’ll have a beer.”

  As he cro
ssed the room with his long-legged gait, Tess admired the rear view of jeans over firm tush. She noticed several other female heads turning to stare at her dark-haired cowboy, and she gritted her teeth.

  Eat your hearts out, ladies. He’s with me.

  When Justin returned, he carried two tall, brown bottles of beer. He gave the band his full attention for a few minutes then turned to Tess. “They’re not half bad.”

  She had just reached a similar conclusion about the beer. The bitter twang grew on her, and the cold brew made her blood warm and her head woozy.

  “Does that mean they’re only half good?” she teased.

  “Come here.” Rising to his feet, he held out his hand.

  She gave his hand a dubious glance. “Why?”

  “I want to dance.”

  “Uh-uh.” She shook her head, and Justin raised an eyebrow.

  “You promised.”

  “I promised to try to have fun, and I’m having a blast right here in my seat.” She smiled to punctuate that fact.

  “I’m not above causing a scene, Tess.”

  That got her attention. She believed he would. The glitter in his eyes confirmed it. The last thing she needed was extra attention drawn to her, no matter how remote the possibility Randall’s men would look for her in this dive.

  With a glower, she gave him her hand. “One dance. That’s all.”

  A cocky grin curved his lips as he slid a hand to the small of her back and led her across the room. The warmth of his hand burned her skin through the thin fabric of her sundress. The gentlemanly possessiveness of the gesture wound around her heart like a vine, rooting itself.

  When they reached the dance floor, a slow song was playing, and he pulled her into his arms. A little light-headed from the beer she’d drunk too fast, Tess closed her eyes and leaned against his solid strength. She moved with him as he swayed and hummed in her ear then sang softly with the love song’s refrain.

  He moved his hand up and down her spine as they danced, and her head buzzed with the dizzying effect of his slow caress. His hard thighs brushed hers as they shuffled around the floor. When she circled his neck with her arms, he smiled down at her.

  If she tried, Tess could forget at that moment that the rest of the world existed. Her heart seemed to swell to twice its normal size, and she blamed the beer for the heady rush of emotions. To properly identify the source of the tender ache that flowered inside her would mean setting herself up for a painful loss when they went their separate ways.

  But for now, she could pretend that day wasn’t coming. Just for a little while, she wanted to forget what she ran from, wanted to forget that anything mattered except the blue eyes and lazy grin that beamed at her. When the song ended, Justin pressed a sweet kiss on her lips.

  The lead singer of the little band wailed the opening line of a rowdy song, startling Tess out of the dreamy moment of bliss.

  “Hey, they’re playing our song,” Justin said with a sly grin.

  “Our song?”

  Justin sang with the band, and recognition dawned on Tess. “That silly song you made me listen to in the car the other day!”

  She chuckled and started off the dance floor, but Justin caught her hand. Spinning her around, he twirled her so that her arm crossed over her chest and her back came up against his chest. He began a shuffling step then spun her out again, leading her in a dance that reminded her of the shag that she’d learned from Angela in more carefree days.

  Staring at Justin, somewhat stunned, she stumbled clumsily as he scooted and twirled her around the dance floor. Her gaze dropped to watch his feet, and she tried to mimic the heel-toe-stomp pattern that he demonstrated. His hands captured her hips and encouraged them to sway as he pulled her along with her back up against his chest again. The heel-toe-stomp pattern repeated, and Tess picked up a few of the steps.

  “That’s it!” Justin shouted over the loud music.

  She concentrated on keeping up and not losing a step. Glancing up at the approval on Justin’s face, she realized she was having fun. A lot of fun. A smile burgeoned on her lips then spilled over in a laugh. Another fast, bouncy tune followed, and they stayed out on the floor to dance some more.

  Her grin stayed in place simply because she was happy and having the good time Justin had promised. But Justin had a way of making even the mundane enjoyable. Whether he serenaded her with his guitar, teased her about freckles, or merely filled the long hours on the road with conversation, he had a way of making her smile, of making her enjoy life.

  Dear God, how she would miss him.

  When they finally left the honky-tonk and returned to their motel room, she brushed her teeth and tumbled wearily into bed. Justin joined her a few minutes later, cuddling up to her like a spoon. His arm slid around her, and he kissed her hair, murmuring his good night wishes, as if it were something he’d done a hundred times before. Tess squeezed her eyes closed, savoring the natural comfort of the moment—the kind of moment that husbands and wives were supposed to share, but she’d never had.

  As she drifted to sleep, her heart filled with a bittersweet longing for a lifetime of nights like this one. With this man.

  ***

  A loud pounding woke Tess and Justin the next morning. Tess bolted upright, tensing, while Justin fought to clear the cobwebs of sleep and remember where he was. One look at the terror in Tess’s eyes triggered a flood of memory. The cold slap of reality brought him fully awake.

  “Stay here,” he told her as he tossed back the sheets and grabbed his jeans from the floor.

  “Who is it?” he called but received no answer.

  Recollection of the goon who’d been showing Tess’s picture at the gas station flashed with vivid clarity in his mind.

  “Who’s there?” This time his voice held a note of irritation that raised his volume.

  “Room service.”

  He squinted to look through the peep hole in the door and found a uniformed motel employee with a tray of food.

  “We didn’t order anything.” He barked his reply, partly in annoyance for his disturbed sleep and partly because of the scare the inept employee had given them.

  The young man with the tray of food looked at his order ticket then the number on the door. “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

  Justin scoffed as he turned back to Tess. “False alarm.” Stripping off his jeans again, he climbed back under the covers and pulled Tess into his arms. Her body trembled. “It’s okay, baby. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

  “This time,” she said morosely, sagging against him.

  He kissed her cheek and remained quiet for a minute as he calmed her with soothing strokes on her back. His mind strayed to all the implications and contingencies he’d blindly avoided up to this point. He didn’t want to consider that Tess could be involved in something more sinister than straight domestic abuse. But she had men after her, and she jumped at her own shadow. He couldn’t ignore the simple fact that Tess’s circumstances rang with an ominous note. Ignorance of what they faced put him at a disadvantage. Whether he wanted to face the truth or not, he needed to know what Tess knew.

  He sucked in a deep breath, trying to dispel his disquiet. “Tess, don’t you think it’s time you told me what happened with Randall? After living with him for years, what made you leave now?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You said Randall was evil. What did you mean by that?” Justin kept his voice gently coaxing, but she still stiffened at the mention of Randall.

  She didn’t answer right away. He waited patiently for her to sort her thoughts and decide what and how to tell him. When she spoke, her hushed voice trembled. “I hadn’t been happy with him for a long time. I never loved him, but when he took me in years ago, I was so young and scared I didn’t look to see what I was getting into. I was so grateful to him for providing me a way out of a bad situation that I didn’t realize how much worse my life could be with him. I was blind then to what kind of man he was.”

 
; “What kind of situation did he get you out of?” Justin brushed a wisp of ash-brown hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear.

  “Dismal poverty. My sister, Angie, took care of us as best she could, but when she was killed, I had nowhere to turn. Or so I thought.”

  “This was after your parents died in the car wreck?”

  She nodded. “We didn’t want to be separated or get sent to foster homes. Angie quit school and started working to support us. We hid the truth about our situation pretty well, but we were so poor . . .”

  Tess paused and sighed, and the emotion that flickered across her face twisted his heart.

  “Angie worked a minimum wage job for a while, and then . . .” Her face crumpled, and tears welled in her eyes.

  Apprehension tightened his gut. Instinctively, he reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “One night Angie came home really late. She was crying and . . .” A shudder raced through Tess. “She’d sold herself to a guy at the diner where she worked. She could earn more money hooking than any other way, she said. I argued with her about it, but she said it was the best way. She wanted me to have money for college.”

  “Your sister prostituted?” Disbelief made his voice hoarse. Squeezing her hand harder, he tried to absorb the revelation. He tried to picture Tess as a frightened teen, struggling to make ends meet and watching her sister turn to prostitution to support them. A heavy sorrow weighted his chest.

  “Her pimp killed her when I was sixteen. Randall showed up right after Angie died, and he said he was a friend of Angie’s . . .” Tess bit her lip, and when she closed her eyes, fat tears spilled down her cheeks. “I trusted him. Blindly trusted him. He paid the rent and groceries until I turned eighteen. Then he offered to marry me. I jumped at the chance to marry a rich man. Until then, he’d been nothing but kind and generous to me.”

  “When did you realize he wasn’t what he seemed?” Justin brushed his thumb on the underside of her wrist, hoping to comfort her.