Unable to Resist

by Cassie Graham

  I recognize the band immediately. They started here in Nashville a few years and hit it big just a couple months ago, getting the chance to open for Blake Shelton.

  The Tellers, they call themselves.

  Their music is a mix of country and pop, with a slight blues feel. I have their CD in my truck right now. Mouthing the words along with the band, weightless, my limbs let go and move to the music as we approach the bar.

  Duane orders a few drinks and motions for me to sit in the empty seat next to him.

  This bar experience is less dramatic than the one at The Rhinestone. The woman bartender did look at Duane a little longer than necessary, but she quickly moved on when Duane full-on kissed me.

  Lightheaded from the kiss and the bit of alcohol already flowing through my system, I relax and enjoy the band.

  Duane’s hand never leaves my body. Either on my leg, my back or playing with my hair, he never lets go of me. Always touching, whispering loving words in my ear.

  “Your voice is amazing, baby,” he tells me.

  I turn to look at him, wondering how he possibly heard me over the loud playing of the band. “How can you even hear me?”

  “I only hear you,” he says as the band quiets for the last time.

  Duane’s hand moves away from my body and the lights dim on the bottom floor. Only blackness and applause fill the bar.

  A soft melody makes its way through the speakers as my eyes strain to see the performer. I thought The Tellers were done.

  The stage is still pitch black and whispers begin to fill the once-silent space, wondering what’s going on.

  I reach for Duane, but I find his bar stool empty. I tear my eyes from the black stage and stand up, in search of him. It’s in vain, though, I can hardly see the hand I’m waving in front of my face.

  The smooth, melodic music grows in cadence as the guitarist’s skillful hands work the strings.

  Who is that? Rylie? I know he plays here sometimes, but last I heard, he has an ongoing gig on Fridays at The Spinner—the same honky tonk where I saw Duane the first time.

  It can’t be Rylie.

  And, where the hell is Duane?

  Forcing myself to calm down, I return to my seat and listen to the haunting tune coming from the still-dark stage. I close my eyes and absorb the soulful harmony when the one voice I know better than my own speaks through the microphone.

  “Evening, y’all,” he drawls, ever so sexy.

  I’m pretty sure every woman in the room just swooned, myself included.

  He continues to play, never missing a beat as the spotlight descends onto him.

  Duane’s beautiful eyes squint at the offensive light, but he begins to scan the mass of people to seek me out. A broad and stunning smile appears when he does.

  I blush. He has me in his grasp and I don’t want to be anywhere else.

  But seriously, what the hell is he doing?

  Jesus, he looks gorgeous up there. I didn’t even know he played guitar.

  He chuckles into the microphone and lowers his head, looking at me with his tension-building eyes.

  An older woman sitting next to me yells, “You’re gorgeous, honey!” She shoulder bumps her friend, and they both laugh hysterically at each other.

  I’d roll my eyes, but I can’t seem to move. Besides, she isn’t wrong. He looks amazing up there.

  Duane’s eyes never stray from mine, but he winks and says, “Why thank you, ma’am.”

  I then have the pleasure of hearing bits and pieces of the plans to seduce him after he gets done singing. All of which entail a well-thought-out plan to flash him as soon as he gets off stage.

  “He’ll fall at my feet at that point,” the old lady shouts, proud of herself.

  Not a chance in hell.

  With one last chord, Duane stops and slides his hat off. Running his hands through his thick brown hair, women physically move closer to the stage.

  Duane sees the shift in the crowd, too. He grins at me and slightly shakes his head. He can’t help it, women beg for his attention. This isn’t news.

  “I’ve never done this before,” he admits.

  The crowd cheers to encourage him and he smirks. Loving the effect he has on everyone, he says, “But, I know my girl would love to see me sing a song I personally wrote just for her.”

  I gasp.

  When did he even have time to write anything, let alone a song?

  He pauses to straighten the strap on his guitar. Showing nothing but confidence, he looks away from me for the first time since he was visible on stage, wipes his hands down the sides of his tight jeans and places his fingers on the strings of the guitar. Satisfied with the placement, he finds me again in the sea of women and licks his lips.

  “This one is for you, baby,” he says.

  The woman who so lovingly wanted to flash Duane huffs under her breath. “Well shit.”

  Suck on that.

  The light, staccato notes resonating from Duane’s fingers and guitar bring the remaining patrons to their feet. Quietly, not wanting to miss a note, people from the upper floors file into the main dance floor to hear Duane play up-close and personal.

  Pure and soft, the melody is entrancing. Haunting. I’m glued to my seat, waiting, hoping for the next enthralling sound. I’d close my eyes if I weren’t afraid I’d miss a second of his performance.

  Closing his eyes, he bows his head, and engulfs himself in the song. Playing a few bars of intro, he prepares himself to open that perfect mouth.

  Keeping your own head above water

  You’re always worried about breaking me

  Love, stop fighting so hard alone

  A beautiful life is right in front of you

  I’ve reached my breaking point

  I’m unable to look away

  Maybe this, maybe me, maybe it’s your second chance

  Unable to resist, it’s you and me

  Always and forever

  Worthy of love

  You’re safe with me

  Baby remember, you’re not broken

  Strength is something we’ll learn together

  Take my hand, there’s no more hiding

  His eyes, unwavering, glow in the spotlight. He’s speaking straight to my soul. I can’t deny his words break my heart and put them back together at the same time. I desperately want to be the woman he sees in me.

  I’ve found me in us

  Our happy ending is just beginning

  I’m unable to resist…

  It’s you and me

  Always and forever

  Forever

  Forever

  “I love you, sweet girl. Forever,” he promises into the microphone as the lights dim.

  My head is fuzzy. I’m clutching my heart and tears are running down my face. I’m bursting. I love this man. I can’t believe he did this. How is it possible I’m so lucky? How has my luck changed so drastically?

  No worry for those around me, I’m on the move. I walk with purpose to the front of the stage, as the spotlight knowingly follows. The crowd parts, like the red sea, for me. When I approach, Duane lifts me under my arms onto the stage and hugs me tight.

  Ever so softly he questions, whispering in my ear, “What do you say, Red?”

  I pull back and blink, forcing my wet eyes to focus. Bringing my hand to the side of his face, I caress softly.

  “I love you, too.” I say out loud for the first time since the thought crept into my mind weeks ago. I need to say it again. “I love you with my whole being. My life, Cowboy. Forever.”

  Relief and a triumphant smile spread across Duane’s face, and he steps away from the microphone. I had totally forgotten we were on stage. In front of hundreds people. Before I let my nerves get the best of me, he sweeps me into his arms and plants the most complete kiss we’ve ever exchanged. My arms circle around his neck as he dips me, just like an old movie couple.

  The crowd hoots and hollers at our display. I shyly pull my lips away from p
aradise and cover my mouth with my hands. I’m smiling so big I think my lips might fall off. Ducking my head into Duane’s chest, I feel the vibrations of his silent laughter.

  With one last kiss, he waves to the crowd and leads me to the side of the stage. Once we are out of the crowd’s eye, Duane stops me and pulls me to him. “I love you, so damn much, Red.”

  I kiss his neck. “I love you. I have for a while now,” I confess.

  He plays with his bottom lip in the way that makes me want to climb him. “Me too. I think I’ve known since Arizona. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought it,” he admits.

  “Right back at you, sweet boy,” I say, right before I take that damn lip into my mouth.

  He leads me down a hall backstage when someone grabs my arm. I turn around to find Liv and Aiden, both grinning something fierce. I squeal and hurl myself into Liv’s arms.

  She lets go of Aiden’s hand and wraps her arms around my shoulder. “I told you so,” she whispers into my ear.

  I choke back a sob. “You did.” I wipe at my face.

  She pulls back and looks into my eyes. “Now go be happy, you deserve it.”

  I hiccup and nod my head. I think she’s right. I finally believe I’m not broken. I just needed someone to help me heal.

  “I love you, dillhole,” I say with playful eyes.

  Both Duane and Aiden sputter behind us.

  “I love you, too, noob,” she says, leaning in further, cupping her hand around her mouth.

  With one last squeeze, we let go and Liv goes back to Aiden’s open arms, wrapping her arms around his middle. I go back to Duane, mimicking her movements. Together with our men, we pass each other to head in opposite directions. She winks at me and we part ways.

  “Let’s go home, Cowboy.”

  It’s time to make good on my promises.

  “Yes ma’am,” he swallows, eyes wide, knowing.

  Eddie is, of course, waiting for us in the back when we open the door. The ride back to Duane’s house is silent. I’m so insanely hyped up from tonight’s events my mind is going a mile a minute.

  He loves me. Me. Duane wants me. I can’t believe it.

  I caress his face. “I love you.”

  What better words to break the silence.

  He turns his face to the palm of my hand. “As I love you,” he says.

  We arrive at his house in no time. Suspiciously, it took us less time to get home than it did to get to the club. Eddie made our drive longer because he knew, or Duane asked him. Either way, I might have to give him a serious tip for that.

  Opening the door, Eddie tips his hat. “Have a good evening, sir,” he says. His eyes shift to me and twinkle. “You too, ma’am.”

  “Good night, Eddie,” I say, “and thank you.”

  His eyes warm, “Anytime.”

  Duane shakes Eddie’s hand and then leads me to the front door. Inserting the key into the lock, that magical red door opens to a house that looks even more amazing than the outside.

  The living room is homey and inviting. A dark grey couch sits on the wall, in front of a wide window. Pictures hang from every inch of the walls.

  “Is this your dad?” I ask, pointing. He’s incredibly handsome. An older, mashed up version of Aiden and Duane, smiling for the camera.

  Duane looks at the picture and his eyes storm a bit. “Yeah. That’s him.”

  Not wanting to ruin the beautiful moment by pushing, I point to another picture. “And your mom?” Tall, like Duane, with long brown hair and bright green eyes, she’s downright striking.

  Duane’s radiant smile breaks through the tension that had plagued his features moments before and he nods. “May Rynard was one hell of a woman.”

  “She made you. I’m guessing she’s pretty amazing.”

  Duane wraps his arms around my shoulders. “Yeah, well Cal Rynard was an asshole.”

  “What happened?” I ask. The tension is back in Duane’s body, and I’m desperate to know why.

  “He was just a son-of-a-bitch Dad. He didn’t really believe in showing love. He slapped me and Aiden around on a daily basis.”

  I place my hand on his. “I’m sorry, love. No one deserves that.”

  He swipes at his face. “No they don’t,” he exhales. “It’s awful that I felt relief when he died. I was heartbroken when I found out Mom was in the car with him. I felt like he took her from me.”

  “Oh, Cowboy.” I shudder and reach up to a tiny scar on his lip. “Is he how you got this?”

  Eyes sad, he nods. “But, it was a long time ago, Red. I’m alright.”

  Feeling awful for their family and, to be honest, blindly pissed, I do the only thing I can do. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pull him close and attempt to push all of my love into our embrace. Bringing his arms around my body, he breathes me in. Deep and slow.

  “Jesus, you smell amazing, Red.”

  I giggle into his chest. “Thanks, I took a shower a few months ago.”

  Instinctually running his hands up and down my back, we begin to sway to our own music.

  “You are my favorite smell,” he continues, “so feminine, and sexy as hell. I wish I could describe it. What perfume do you wear?” He wonders out loud.

  I take a whiff of my arm, I don’t smell anything. “I’m sure the perfume has worn off by now, but I put lotion on this morning. It’s sugared pomegranates and wild berries—I think. I’ve been wearing it forever.”

  He mumbles. “It’s fucking fantastic.”

  “Thank you, Cowboy,” I snicker. It’s odd to think we are standing here, dancing to noiseless music, talking about my smell.

  Squeezing me tenderly, Duane takes a deep breath. Lifting my head from his chest, I set my chin on his muscular upper torso.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask, bluntly. There are countless emotions running across his face. I see them all, but he can’t seem to settle on one.

  When he looks down at me, all vanish but two, and they’re emotions I know well.

  First, I see the love. Instantly, the moment his eyes land on mine, his face morphs from anguish to happiness. I’m so thankful I can put it there. But, second is anxiety. That one scares me.

  My eyebrows crinkle. “What is it, baby?”

  He huffs. “It’s just—dammit, I don’t know…”

  He lets go of me to pace. We are obviously spending a lot of time together—I’ve rubbed off on him.

  “You thought you were the broken one, Red. It never occurred to me that I might be broken, too,” he finally says.

  I tilt my head in wonder. “What do you mean?”

  He scrubs down his face, a sure-tell sign he’s having a hard time forming words. “Having you here, in my home, makes me realize I didn’t have the greatest time here. I want to burn this place to the ground and make new memories. With you.”

  My feet move before my brain can catch up. Pulling his face to mine, he melts into my rough embrace and kisses me with a love so intense I know I’ll never be able to recover if he takes it all away.

  When we break apart, I look up at his face. “You’re serious?”

  He looks hopeful.

  “Hell yes, I’m serious,” he exclaims, “I have the money. I wouldn’t actually burn the place down. Aiden could have this house. What do you say, Red? Let’s build a house. Together.”

  I look at his face, assessing his seriousness. He looks fucking serious. And sincere. The few walls I had still built up are crumbling by the second. The look on his face, so genuine and hopeful, makes me seriously consider his offer. I know we’ve been together only a short amount of time, and I’m not crazy enough to overlook the fact I don’t know all of his issues. But, I do know I’m ready to help him through them. I want to be his rock. I want to be his forever. I know he’s my future.

  We fell fast, and we fell hard. I can’t take back how quick the fall was—how fast we’re still falling. Some are going to reason we are entirely crazy for thinking this is the real thing. But
, I can’t silent my heart. I can’t stop it from shouting at me. It wants to give Duane a chance. It wants to give us a chance. Loving him is as easy as blinking. It’s not premeditated. The moment my eyes landed on this man—my man, with his unwavering support, and generous heart, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling for him. He makes it difficult to do anything but. How can I fight with my heart when my head, which, let’s not beat around the bush, is the less foolish one, is telling me to just jump in? Dive straight into the deep end and never come up for a breath.

  “You—you want to move in together?” I need specification.

  He grabs my hands. “It’ll take a while to build a house. You don’t have to move in until it’s done. We don’t need to rush, we can make it ours.”

  He says earth-shattering words so easily, like they aren’t some of the most important ones I’ve ever heard. Like they aren’t changing all the lonely hermit plans I had put into place before him.

  “Are you sure you want to build a house with me? This is a big, Duane.” Why am I talking to him like he’s a child?

  Maybe because you’re afraid if you don’t talk it out, you’ll make a rash decision and tell him no. Even though, deep down you’d move in with him now. Or yesterday for that matter.

  “I’m a mess, still. I’m moody and bitchy. I hog the covers, I’m insanely hot-tempered. I can’t make my mind up about most things. I drive too slow, and to make things worse, I can’t shut up. Like right now. God, shut up, Ann!” I yell to myself.

  Duane lamely tries to hide his laugh, and I lightly punch him in the arm. “Shut up.”

  He shakes his head. “Come here, crazy.”

  Opening his arms, I gladly lunge into them.

  “Are you trying to talk me or yourself out of moving in together? Either decision you make is okay. Sure, I’d rather you agree and move in, but I wouldn’t dream of pushing you into something you aren’t comfortable with.” He levels his eyes to mine. “For the record, all of those reasons you just randomly listed are reasons why I love you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  He pinches my ass. “You’re feisty, I love that. You keep me on my toes, daily. Hell, hourly.” He waggles his eyebrows. “You hog the covers? I’ll just cuddle you more to stay warm. Red, baby, I’m here to help you make decisions. All of those things make you who you are. I love every part of you. All of it.”