One Starlit Night

by Stacy Dawn

His chest constricted and the pit of his stomach hit his cowboy boots.

  Grey’s whole body heated and froze at the same time as he watched her smile up to the man, laughing.

  Is that who she called yesterday morning? Is he the reason why she had to leave so suddenly yesterday afternoon?

  Blind fury blurred his vision as he stalked toward them. Is that why she snuck away two years ago? Not getting enough from her husband so she popped out to the rodeo for a little extra excitement?

  The thoughts in his head warred with the memories from last night. Could a woman really give that much of herself, but not mean any of it?

  The man checked his watch then gave Lizzie a big hug. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

  “I’ll have everything ready for when you get home.” Lizzie nodded and waved the milk carton as the guy got into a nearby car.

  His head told him just to leave it, turn and walk away, but his pride wouldn’t let this be, not that easily. His beautiful, magical muse was nothing more than a lying, cheating harlot.

  “So, tell me, is he the reason you hightailed it out of there so quickly yesterday? Did you have to get back to get his dinner on the table before he realized you’d been gone all night and day?”

  She spun around, blue eyes wide and wary. “Grey?”

  “You look surprised.” And too damned beautiful. He shook off the thought and stared her down. “What? Your nice, cushy home life not satisfying enough for you? Or did you just have another hankerin’ for a willing cowboy?”

  Exquisite brows lowered and she hiked a fist on her hip. “Excuse me?”

  He nodded toward where the car had left. “So that’s the tune you play—the pretty, obedient wife when he’s around, then the leather and whips comes out when he leaves? No wonder nobody knew who you were. You probably hand out names like you do excuses.” Grey fisted his arms over his chest. “Man, ain’t I the fool. Here I thought myself lucky my muse had come back, when in reality, you’re just a take ’em and leave ’em player on the side.”

  “Me?” Her voice raised an octave. “First of all, I am not married. And a player? Isn’t that just the pot calling the kettle black?”

  Grey was stuck on the words ‘not married.’ “That wasn’t your husband?”

  “No.” Her cheeks reddened as angry fingers thrummed on one hip.

  His own hands came to his waist, not yet ready to forfeit what his eyes had seen and heard. “What about having everything ready for him when he gets home?”

  “Not that it is any of your business,” she said, enunciating each word and shaking the milk toward him. “But that’s one of my bookkeeping clients. I told him I’d have his end-of-month accounts ready for him when he calls—as soon as he and his wife get home from their Lamaze class.”

  God, she was sexy as hell with her eyes sparking blue fire.

  Grey dropped his head, grinning in relief and stupidity. “Geez, Lizzie, I’m sorry,” he said with a little chuckle. “It’s just…I’ve been looking for you, and no one seemed to know you, and then he...”

  “Damn right you should be sorry.” She crossed her arms over her breasts and stared at her boots.

  He put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off.

  “And it’s Elizabeth. No one ever called me Lizzie but you—and I’d be just as happy if you forgot my name.”

  The first made sense, but he didn’t like the second. “Why?” Okay, he knew why. You can’t accuse her of adultery and think she’ll be okay with it. “Lizzie, I’m sorry. I made a big mistake.”

  Her head snapped up. “No, I made the mistake.” She pulled the salon door open. “Leave me alone, Grey. Go back to your barrel racer. See how she likes you accusing her of being a tramp.”

  “My what?” He grabbed her arm. “What are you talking about?”

  She spun on him, her eyes wild and fists clenched. “What, did you wait a whole five minutes to see if I’d show or not before picking out another patsy to play the singing cowboy to?”

  “You showed up last night?” She’d been there. And the fact she was pissed because she thought he deserted her for another woman only furthered his hope.

  He tugged her out of the doorway and back to the sidewalk. “The barrel racer. I get it now. I can explain.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t want to hear it.” Elizabeth yanked her arm back so hard the milk hit Grey’s solid chest and thunked to the ground in a splatter of white over both their boots. Dammit. “Now look what you’ve done.” And she wasn’t just talking about the milk as a tear spilt down her cheek.

  She’d almost made it through the whole hair appointment without losing to the burning behind her eyes. Squatting down, she picked up the torn carton, the one she’d nipped out to get while Gretal was being fussed and cooed over by the older ladies in curlers.

  The finger under her chin was gentle but firm. Face raised to meet his gaze, she frowned at the gentle understanding and something more, something indescribable, behind the adored eyes.

  “The barrel racer was my sister, Free,” he explained. “She was thrown from her horse during the qualifying round yesterday. Dusty and I were at the hospital most of the night.”

  Her hand slapped against her mouth. “Oh, Grey, I’m so sorry.” It never once occurred to her that there could have been another reason for his absence. “I thought...I...How is she? Is she all right?”

  “She’s okay. A tough little thing...ended up with a broken ankle, a concussion...and a few other surprises. I wanted to call you, let you know what was going on, but I had no way to contact you.”

  He moved closer and she rubbed her face against the warm hand cupped on her cheek. His sister, not another woman. The realization made her knees turn to jelly.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I didn’t abandon you, I swear.”

  The weight in her chest lightened as she searched for the truth in the liquid steel of his eyes. They closed slowly as his lips joined with hers. The last of her doubts left as his hands pulled her closer and his mouth told her so much without a single word.

  Grey released her slowly, lingering on her bottom lip before grinning. “How about we head over to the rodeo grounds? I have a qualifying ride soon, but then I’d like to take you out for supper, get your phone number, maybe...”

  “Here you go,” a pitchy voice cooed.

  Elizabeth froze. Grey’s face showed no surprise as he stepped back to let Della Ballew push the stroller out onto the sidewalk.

  Hesitantly, Elizabeth backed away from him and gripped the stroller. “Th-thank you, Della,” she stuttered, but kept her gaze fixed on Grey. “I’m sorry. I can’t go right now,” she told him. The fact that he hadn’t run off on her last night was still sinking in; she couldn’t adjust fast enough for this next moment of truth. “I mean...this is...”

  “It’s okay, I know.”

  His smile was full of understanding and Elizabeth let go of the breath she was holding. “You do?”

  “Sure.” He bent down on his heels and tugged on a little curl. The simple interaction squeezed her heart painfully, father and daughter together for the first time. But how did he find out? Did it matter? He didn’t desert her, had in fact been searching for her, and now his acceptance of their daughter was almost more than her heart could hold.

  “Grey, I was going to tell you,” she began, needing to make sure he understood everything. “In fact, last night I had broug—”

  He stood and rubbed her arm. “Don’t worry about it. I remember her from the other afternoon. The one when you and your friend couldn’t get off the grounds fast enough, remember?” he teased.

  Elizabeth groaned at the memory of the lame excuse she’d given him then. Was that really only two days ago?

  “It’s no problem, really. How long are you babysitting for?”

  Babysitting?

  Oh no.

  “Don’t you two make the cutest couple,” Della said.

  Elizabeth had all but forgotten the older woman. She forced a
tight smile, all the while her mind going crazy. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know she’s his daughter. Her contentment turned to horrible dread.

  Della nudged her in the arm. “Now there’s the man you should have waited for before using that sperm bank. I know you wanted a baby, and I’m all for woman’s lib, but a child should know both their parents. Don’t you think?”

  The last question was directed to Grey, and Elizabeth wanted to melt into the sidewalk cracks. He stood so still, his eyes focused on the little face in the stroller.

  “She’s a doll, though, isn’t she?” The chatty townswoman bent down to pat the pink-bowed curls. “Aren’t you, Gretal? Can’t say as I can figure where all that blonde hair came from, though. Must have been in the donor’s genes.”

  Elizabeth froze. Sick to her stomach, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, as Grey’s jaw clenched and a tick pulsed the skin in his neck.

  His gaze slowly slid from their daughter to her, with both the question and the answer written in cold steel in his eyes. “How old is she?” he asked quietly.

  “Oh, what? About fifteen months old now, isn’t she, dear,” Della volunteered.

  Grey hadn’t taken his eyes off Elizabeth. She swallowed hard and gave a barely perceptible nod.

  His anger was palpable, though Della seemed oblivious as she gave Gretal a last pat on the head and a quick, “Nice to meet you,” to Grey before returning to the beauty salon.

  “A sperm bank, huh,” Grey began, slow, steady and deadly. “Funny how she happens to look just like my mother—and have the same name, too. Something tells me that’s not a coincidence.”

  His fists were clenched at his sides and she reached for his arm, the muscles stiffening beneath her fingers. “Grey, wait, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “No? Are you sure? Because the way I’m figuring it, you wanted a child, found a ripe and willing cowboy, and seduced him with some great sex and platitudes about his music. Then, when you got enough of what you needed, disappeared with the goods, so to speak.”

  She could barely hear above the roaring of blood in her ears. This can’t be happening. Not like this, not after we just... “Please, Grey, it’s not—”

  “Dammit. Just when I believed...just when I thought...” His eyes softened for a fraction of a second before pain covered them and the grey orbs hardened to cold steel. “I should have known something was up after you showed up out of nowhere, just like before—and after pretending you don’t know me in front of your friend.” He shook out of her fervent hold. “Let me guess, you thought it time little Gr-”—he stuttered in anger on the name—“she needed a sibling? Hey, why not dupe the same cowboy again, sure way to make sure they share the same genetics, right? Worked once, why not try again?”

  “No! That’s not it at all.” Her body shook with desperation. “I—”

  Grey’s hand snapped up. “Save it. Yeah, I guess you really are my muse. I’ve sure got a few lyrics rolling around in my head right now—a fool in love, lovers telling lies, heartbreak rodeos, the list goes on...I can probably fill a whole album with all the inspiration you’ve provided this weekend.”

  He cast his gaze away from her and down to Gretal. His face broke for a moment before the jaw hardened and he stormed off.

  Elizabeth stood immobile, unable to move, unable to breathe. The whole scene replayed in her head, all having come too fast for her to stop, to warn him, to ease Grey into the truth.

  She’d found him and lost him again in a matter of minutes. Her heart bled from the abuse.

  A fool in love, he’d said. And that was the irony of the whole thing. She just lost the love she’d longed for, but never knew she already had.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I shouldn’t have made you go,” Paige apologized as she swiped a cloth across the refreshment counter of the Ride ’n’ Bowl Sunday afternoon.

  Behind Elizabeth, a concussion of balls rumbled down the alleys from a bowling fundraiser for the local animal shelter. The clang of the mechanical bull on the other side of the eating area added to the constant volume with every clunked turn and yip of teenage riders. She winced against the attack on her aching head and switched a fidgety Gretal to her other knee.

  “It’s not your fault,” Elizabeth said, reaching into the diaper bag for the container of Cheerios. “Ultimately, the decision was mine.” Just like I told Grey about his music. Like it or not, no one to blame but ourselves.

  And there he was again, in every thought in her head no matter how hard she tried to block him out.

  She opened the container, put a few of the oat circles onto a napkin and snapped the lid shut, both on the snack and Grey Wulfsen. “Now we move on.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yep. Just like that.” She swallowed down the lie.

  “Don’t give me that crap.” Paige crossed her arms and leaned back against the soda machine. Her eyes narrowed. “I heard your voice on the phone that morning. You were so bright, happy...alive. Don’t tell me you don’t feel a thing.”

  Elizabeth raised her chin and frowned. “Of course, I’m disappointed, but...”

  Paige slapped a hand to the counter. “Stop it! This is me, not your uptight grandmother. Don’t pull the staid indifference routine on me. I know you too well.”

  She shook her head, holding on desperately to the ingrained control. “Let it go, Paige. I have.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Defensive, Elizabeth jumped off the stool. “What do you want to hear, Paige?” she snapped, her voice rising. “That I didn’t sleep because I was up all night crying my eyes out? That I feel sick to my stomach and my head aches because I can’t stop thinking of him? That every breath hurts because I killed something so special that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself?” Her pounded fist split the lid of the snack container and sent Cheerios in an explosion over the counter.

  Gretal jumped in her arms. When she looked down, her daughter’s eyes were wide with fright, the corners glistening with oncoming tears.

  “Oh, God.” Elizabeth hugged Gretal tight. “I’m sorry, baby. Mamma’s so sorry.” The clash of bowling balls rumbled through the shaking child and straight to her soul. “God. I swore I would never be like my mother, and look at me—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Paige came around the corner and wrapped them both in a tight hug. “You are nothing like your mother. You’re so much stronger than she ever was.”

  “But I can’t stop thinking of him, Paige, replaying everything and...”

  “That makes you human, Elizabeth, not a depressed alcoholic.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the little lonely girl inside who stood scared and confused against the slammed door of her mother’s bedroom. Elizabeth wrapped her arms tighter around her own daughter and rocked her side to side. I won’t do that to you, baby. I won’t shut you out...and I’ll never leave you alone.

  Paige leaned back and winked. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you a good man, someday. I just know it.”

  Elizabeth stepped back and swiped at her eyes, angry at the wetness rubbed off on the back of her hand. “I don’t want anyone else...I didn’t want anyone in the first place.” Which was the whole reason I planned to use an anonymous donor! “I was doing fine on my own—we are doing fine. I don’t need a man in my life, and especially one in Gretal’s life who will only show up when the rodeo’s in town. Speaking of which...” Elizabeth grabbed onto the subject change, even though it didn’t fully escape the heart of her sadness. She picked up the accordion file folder next to the diaper bag and set it on the counter. “I appreciate you watching Gretal for me. I just can’t take her back to the rodeo grounds. I wouldn’t even go back myself if not for Henry’s audit papers here.”

  She gave her daughter another long hug and then handed her off to Paige’s waiting arms.

  “No worries. By the time you’re back, I’ll have her sweeping up and handing out bowling shoes.”


  “Ha ha.” Elizabeth grabbed up the file folder and kissed her daughter. “Be good.” She gave Paige a quick hug and whispered, “You’re the best.”

  ****

  Grey did a last check to make sure everything was secure in the trailer, then locked up and stowed his guitar case away in the back seat of the truck. He couldn’t wait to get out of this town.

  “Little rough in the final today, huh?”

  Grey glanced over his shoulder at Henry Garza then back. “Yeah.”

  “You don’t normally lose your concentration so easily.”

  And of course the one weekend when the events were being televised. He shut his eyes and swallowed back a few swear words. He could just see his manager’s scowl at the headline: New up and coming songwriter can’t stay on the horse—will he slip off the charts as easily?

  Grey secured the case, then stood and turned, his hand out to their family’s longtime friend.

  “I have to be off. Good to see you again, Henry.”

  “Not even going to wait for your brother’s event?”

  “Nah, I gotta run.” As fast and far away from this wrench in my chest as possible. Everything reminded him of Lizzie. Hell, he was already thinking of trading in the trailer just to purge her from his life.

  Henry gave him a curious eye. “Okay, then. Don’t be a stranger.”

  Grey waved as the old man headed out, then slid onto the driver’s seat and started the engine. The haunting chorus of Amarillo Angel filled the cab and he immediately shut the radio off. He’d written that song while laid up in the hospital, Lizzie’s face the only thing keeping the pain at bay.

  He shook his head and put the truck in gear. This was all his own fault. He knew better than to fall for someone who was no more than a wisp in the wind; just had to look into his past to see the history there. His mother, his aunt—even his father had abandoned them long before he passed away.

  Grey watched the rodeo grounds disappear in his rearview mirror. The further he got, however, the larger the hole in his chest.

  A sudden bump and jerk of the truck jarred him out of his misery. “What the—”