Nashville Nights

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  He cupped her face and leaned her head back so he could look into her eyes.

  “Then it would be my honor and my pleasure—more than you know, really.” He gave that charming little head toss. “But, Emory, you can stop me if you change your mind. I’ll always stop. And you’ll only have to ask once.”

  But she didn’t ask him to stop. He took her to his bed and they laughed and loved and celebrated, tasting and touching and, sometimes, driving each other almost crazy with want. And they knew how to do that because they had learned each other’s bodies so well.

  Finally, when they knew the moment was right for both of them, Emory rolled onto her back and pulled Jackson between her thighs in the dominant position. He looked into her eyes searching for any hesitation on her part.

  There was none. Slowly and sweetly, he entered her, and she saw the ecstasy she felt reflected back from his face.

  “So tight, so good,” he muttered, lying perfectly still as they enjoyed the feeling of fullness, the connection like no other. “I guess we just broke that youth revival chastity pledge.”

  She laughed, he thrust, and she lifted her hips and met him.

  And when they were done, they did it all over again—twice.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It was rare that Emory was able to have lunch with her friends but on Monday they all sat around a table together at The Café Down On The Corner. Now that there was a break in the Around the Bend schedule, she and Gwen had a little downtime and Christian had a lighter schedule. Abby, Neyland, and Noel had been able to meet them as well.

  After spending the night in Jackson’s bed Saturday, he’d woken her early Sunday morning to say he was going to rehearsal and he’d be gone until late, but she should stay in bed as long as she wanted—all day if she liked. Exhausted from the previous night’s ordeal and elation, she had come close to doing exactly that, rising only when hunger drove her from the bed mid-afternoon. During that time, she’d done a lot of thinking and one of the things she’d decided was that it was high time she told her friends what had happened to her.

  So after everyone finished eating, she told the story.

  Emory looked around the table at them. Their expressions registered a wide range of emotions—shock, anger, despair, and Noel was silently crying.

  “And that’s what happened,” Emory said. She had told it all, surprised that she had felt more anger than shame. “I’m sorry I’ve kept it from y’all.”

  “This isn’t about us,” Christian said. “I always knew something had happened to you. I’m just sorry we haven’t been able to be there for you.”

  Emory reached and took her hand. “But you have been. Can’t you see that? You all knew something had happened.” The women looked at each and nodded. “And you never asked me. You just went on being my friends, quirks and all. It was what I needed.”

  Neyland said, “Gwen, you didn’t know? Even with Dirk’s part in this?”

  “No. One of the things I love best about my husband is his ability to keep his own counsel. I knew some things because I saw them. I knew that when Emory came back to Beauford Bend she’d been injured and kept to her room for a month. I knew she was afraid to leave the premises at first. But I thought she’d been mugged, maybe. I never imagined something so horrible.” She closed her eyes and put her hand to her forehead.

  Not a single one of them told Emory it wasn’t her fault because it never occurred to them that it was remotely possible that she could think that. And she loved them all the more for not saying those words.

  “And there isn’t really anything else to say,” Emory said. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore today. Later, there would probably be questions but, for now, she’d talked about it all she could.

  “But if you want to talk, you’ll come to us, won’t you?” Dear, sweet Noel. She wiped her eyes.

  “Of course.”

  “I am very angry about this,” Neyland said. “I’ll say that right now. I want to go to New York and cut his balls off.”

  “And I want to hold him down while you do it,” Abby said. “And while Neyland cuts him”—her eyes got big and she waved her hands—“I want to pour alcohol on him. Alcohol infused with habanero peppers!”

  In spite of everything and much to Emory’s relief, they all laughed.

  Emory reached for her purse. “I have something for everyone.” She handed envelopes around the table.

  “A ticket to the concert!” Abby said. “I thought they were sold out. Not that I could have afforded it.”

  “Jackson gave them to me to give to y’all this morning before he left for rehearsal.” Emory said. He’d tucked them under her pillow when he’d kissed her goodbye.

  “How’s it going?” Christian asked.

  “I don’t know. He said they were awful. They had their first rehearsal yesterday and they’re putting in fifteen-hour days.” But for all his criticism, he’d been upbeat last night and ready to take her to bed—and she’d been ready to let him.

  “He always says they’re awful,” Gwen said. “Ginger said they have some kinks to work out, but they sound good.”

  “So, how is it going with the visitors?” Neyland asked. “Daddy was beside himself. Gabe brought those two other guys down to the school this morning while the team was doing weight training. They stayed all morning and they’re going back tomorrow.”

  Christian pushed her chair back from the table a bit and crossed her legs. “I’ll bet that’s making those women really happy—abandoned in the boonies for a high school football team.”

  “No kidding,” Gwen said. “I finally had Sammy take them to Franklin to shop. Except for Tasha. She’s perfectly content and loves the house. She spent all morning looking at old picture albums, and tomorrow she and I are going to make blueberry jam. I asked her to come to lunch with us but she said she needed a nap.” Gwen looked at Emory. “Though, it’s good that she didn’t come, after all.”

  “It would have been fine. I could have told you a different time. But I don’t know what the C-Squad is going to do for the next four days. They were incensed that there’s no pool at Beauford Bend and no horses to ride. I don’t know what Gabe told them to expect.”

  Christian rolled her eyes. “I expect Gabe said, ‘Come on,’ and they said, ‘Okay.’ But send them over to Firefly Hall. They aren’t touching my horse but they can swim.”

  “Really?” Emory said. “That would be great.”

  “Really. I’m all but vacant until Friday.”

  Abby looked at her phone. “I hate to leave good company but I’ve got to go. I promised I’d be back before noon.”

  Noel and Neyland rose, too, muttering that they also had to get back to work. After hugs all around, Emory, Gwen, and Christian settled back into their seats.

  “Poor dears.” Gwen poured another round of iced tea from the pitcher they’d asked Billy Joe to leave for them. “They have to work. We, however, are ladies of leisure. Or at least I am until I have to get back and cook dinner for the masses.”

  “Order pizza,” Emory said. “The guys will love it and the women don’t eat anyway.”

  Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Tasha does. Turns out she’s a good cook and we’ve been swapping recipes. I want to show off.”

  “What are we having?” Emory asked.

  “Heirloom tomato and cucumber salad with a balsamic vinegar reduction and olive oil dressing, shrimp and smoked cheese grits, turnip greens cooked with bacon, and sour cream cornbread. And for dessert, peach cobbler and homemade vanilla ice cream.”

  “Can I come if I eat in the kitchen with the help?” Christian said.

  “Not serving that meal without you—though I doubt Gabe or Jackson will stand for any of us to eat in the kitchen.”

  “Jackson won’t be there,” Emory said.

  “No?” Gwen lifted an eyebrow.

  “They’re rehearsing every day, all day, until nine or ten o’clock. That’s what he said.”

  Gwen l
ooked at the table and ran her finger through the water ring from her tea glass.

  “Jackson has really been there for you during all this, hasn’t he?” Gwen said.

  “You’ve no idea. I never could have done it without him.”

  “Sure you could have,” Christian said.

  “Well, I never had. Who knows if I would have ever been able to? I’ve still got a ways to go, but it’s so much better—just telling my story to the police and being believed and knowing he’s in jail. It’s huge. And Jackson—and Dirk—did all that.” She closed her eyes and considered before speaking. “Also, before, I couldn’t be touched. And now . . . well, let’s just say no man could have been kinder or more patient. It’s like he always knew the right thing to do and say.”

  Christian smiled. “I’m so glad.”

  “Emory.” Gwen bit her bottom lip. “I think I was wrong about something.”

  “What?”

  “When I told you to be careful of Jackson? I said he doesn’t love many people back and that is true. But he does love a few people and I think you’re one of them.”

  Christian gave out a gleeful little laugh and clapped her hands in front of her face.

  “Do you really think so?” A warm feeling shot through Emory at Gwen’s validation of what she’d been feeling.

  She had been afraid she could never give him real sex, but that certainly wasn’t a worry anymore. There could even be children . . . Her stomach bottomed out at the thought of a little girl with silver-sage eyes and a voice that would lift in perfect pitch, or a little boy with dark hair and a smile that could rule the world. It could happen. Was it possible that he loved her? She felt loved. That meant something, didn’t it?

  Her face went warm. “I mean, we got off to a pretty rocky start and it hasn’t been that long. And he is Jackson Beauford.”

  “And you’re Emory Lowell,” Christian said with delight. “Never underestimate that. And after all you’ve been through, you deserve a happily ever after.”

  Even Gwen had let go of her little worried frown. “And believe me, it doesn’t take long. I think it was about seventh grade when Dirk and I got around to looking across the room at each other and it was all over.” She laughed. “I think that was about the time some hormones had started to come into play.”

  “Yeah. That’s the way of it,” Christian muttered and took a sip of her tea. “This is how I see things—bad things happen to good people all the time but, in the end, something good comes along to make you think that if it took that bad thing to get you to this point in your life—well, it might not be worth it exactly. That’s hard to measure. But it helps you let go of the bad. You might have to wait a really long time on that good thing, so long that you might think it’s never coming, but it will. Every single thing we do affects the rest of our lives.” She gestured around her. “This lunch, the clothes we picked out this morning, and that I’m going to let those awful women take over my pool. That’s my bad thing. I’ll be looking for the good.”

  They all laughed. “Spoken like a true dreamer,” Gwen said.

  “All I’m saying is both Jackson and Emory have had their share of bad and this might be the good they’ve got coming.”

  “I don’t know about all that, but Jackson has been through the wringer.” Gwen took a sip of her tea. “I know he’s got baggage, and plenty of it, but he seems happy lately. I’d like to see more of that. I don’t know where I’d be without him.”

  “How so?” Emory asked.

  “We don’t talk about it much. It was a sad time. Dirk joined the army right after high school and had his heart set on being a Ranger. I got a job waiting tables at an upscale restaurant in Nashville. My parents were glad to feed and house me but they couldn’t afford to send me to culinary school.

  “The plan was, we were going to save some money and after a year, get married, but I’d keep living with my parents, quit my job, and start culinary school. It didn’t work out that way. When Dirk was home for Christmas, I got pregnant.”

  That didn’t add up. Emory did some quick math and knew this was going to be sad.

  “Aside from Dirk getting away for a weekend in February so we could get married, we decided the basic plan didn’t have to change. It wasn’t feasible for me to go back with him. It was looking like Ranger school was a real possibility but I knew he had to stay focused if it was going to happen. And he didn’t want me there, pregnant and alone, while he was moving around during the training. And I still wanted to go to culinary school.

  “But in April my parents and I were on our way to visit my sister in Chattanooga and we had an accident. They were killed and I lost my baby.”

  “Oh, Gwen.” Emory laid her hand on Gwen’s arm.

  “I remember,” Christian said.

  “Yeah. I was a nineteen-year-old mess. Dirk couldn’t come home except for the funeral. By the time we paid off their debts and buried my parents, my sister and I got not quite four hundred dollars each and I’d lost my job. Dirk’s dad wanted me to move in with him but that was never going to happen. He really was a good man. He was sweet when he was drunk and repentant when he was sober but he wasn’t sober much.”

  Christian smiled. “But Jackson to the rescue.”

  “And Miss Amelia. Jackson was just getting on his feet. He’d had that first hit and he was on the road, opening for George Strait. He flew home, moved me into Beauford Bend, and paid for me to go to culinary school, all the while pretending like there was no way Around the Bend could do business without me.” She laughed. “Looking back . . . My specialties back then were mushrooms caps stuffed with sausage and Pepperidge Farm breadcrumbs, and cream cheese with canned crab and cocktail sauce poured over the top. It’s a wonder I didn’t put them out of business.”

  “I didn’t know,” Emory said.

  “You wouldn’t. Jackson has never told, and that story would be a public relations dream. Remember, he was nineteen, too. He was finally making some money, but not a ton. The twins and Beau were still at home and Beauford Bend was about to fall apart. So it wasn’t without sacrifices that he and his family did that for Dirk and me.”

  “So that’s why Dirk would take a bullet for Jackson?” Emory said.

  “No.” Gwen shook her head. “Dirk would take a bullet for anybody because that’s who he is. That’s why Dirk would take a whole clip of bullets for Jackson.”

  Emory placed her hand over her heart. Just when she thought she couldn’t have been more in love with him.

  “In view of this, I guess we don’t have to worry so much about Around the Bend getting closed down,” Christian said.

  Oddly, Emory hadn’t thought of that, at least not lately.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Less than forty-eight hours until the concert and Jackson was beginning to think it really was going to be all right. He might be able to have his career after all, might even be able to go on the road again. He could hire more security, take more steps to insure everyone’s safety. He didn’t know what those things were but that’s what Dirk and Ginger were for. If he did do this thing—if he was able—he was going to give Ginger a raise and call her what she really was. It was a joke to keep calling her his personal assistant. His former manager, Brandon, had been extremely competent but it hadn’t been a good fit. They’d never really seen eye to eye.

  It was almost midnight when he parked his truck in the garage and started walking toward the carriage house.

  “Jackson.” The voice came from the side porch.

  “Hey, Gabe. You alone?” He stepped up on the porch and took the chair beside Gabe’s.

  Gabe looked around. “Yeah. I seem to be.” There was a little wonder in his voice.

  “That almost never happens.”

  Gabe laughed. “I was waiting for you. Good news. Beau called.”

  A thousand pounds lifted from Jackson’s shoulders and calm settled over him like it did every time he heard again that his little brother was alive.
r />   “Thank God. Is he all right?”

  “Yeah. He tried to call you but your phone went to voicemail.”

  He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Hell’s bells and damnation! I let it die. Let me have yours. I’ll call him back.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Too late. He’s at Fort Bragg but he only had fifteen minutes. I’d have driven to where you were if I could have gotten there in time. He’s got a day or two before his next assignment. He said he’d try you again tomorrow.”

  “Well, hell. But he’s safe. That’s what matters. Did he say anything?”

  “To tell you he’s okay. But about what he’s been up to or where he’s going next? No. I called Rafe and Missy.”

  “Are they okay?”

  “Yeah. Missy can’t come to the concert. Lulu has strep throat. She’s on the mend but Missy won’t leave her.”

  “Missy’s a good mother.” Emory would be a good mother, too, to some lucky children.

  “I guess. Jackson, about the fire . . . ”

  Jackson let out a sigh. “Which one?”

  “The last one. I’m sorry about it.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “That’s all I was going to say—all I know to say.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel. Has Ginger talked to you about the award presentation?”

  “About eighteen times, the last time about an hour ago.”

  “Yeah. I got Sammy to bring her back here a couple of hours ago. Her leg was hurting, though she didn’t want to leave.”

  “She’s still afraid you’re going to bolt.”

  “I won’t.”

  “So the rehearsals are going okay?”

  “Yeah. Pretty well.” There had been some rough spots, but there had been no panic, no smell of smoke. “I suck.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Jackson shrugged.

  “So the guys are okay?” Gabe asked.

  “It was pretty emotional the first day but everybody’s just glad to be back together playing music. And I guess that includes me.”