The Patriot Girl

by Toni Lynn Cloutier

  It had been good, and cheaper, having him back home. Phone calls to California had been expensive, especially after Liz’s death. If Jesse hadn’t convinced Dustin that being a single parent was, indeed, not the end of the world, he’d have spent the last three years in therapy.

  He drummed his fingers against the wooden counter top. “What do you think about mixing business with pleasure?”

  Jesse stopped washing the counter, leaned forward, and stared Dustin in the eyes. “I love ya, man, but you’re not my type.”

  “Not you.” Dustin laughed, placed his beer cap between his thumb and forefinger, and tried to carom it off his friend’s head—as usual, with no luck. “I’m talking about MaKayla. I think after you get to know her, you’ll see she’s special.”

  Laughing, Jesse snapped the bottle cap like a pro and hit Dustin’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen you so freaked out. She’s a woman, Dustin. The opposite sex causes heartbreaks and sleepless nights. They’re bitches when you don’t call them twenty-four-seven. And besides, this one blames you for the death of her husband. You don’t stand a chance.”

  “Yeah,” Dustin spat out. He used to share the same attitudes about women, but that was before fate tossed MaKayla into his arms. There had to be a way to get past her husband’s ghost.

  His tapping fingers came to a screeching halt when the woman in question walked through the door of No Bulls.

  The air conditioner above the door blew her long hair in a wild tangle over her shoulders. Her yellow top molded to her breasts, the bar covered his view of the rest of her. He couldn’t wait to get a glimpse of what she was wearing below her waist—maybe a short, bare-legs-showing skirt.

  Sliding off the stool, he made his way up the aisle to meet her. “Hey.” He lifted her hand to his lips. How was he supposed to go three months of being a good boy?

  “Good evening.” She removed her hand from his. “I hope you like what I’ve come up with.”

  He glanced at her tight-fitting jeans and black cowboy boots, admiring what she had come up with. However, he doubted that’s what she was talking about. She was here on business.

  There was no doubt he’d approve her work no matter what her plan. While Jesse owned twenty-five percent of No Bulls, Dustin would bet his portion of the bar that her ideas for promotions were a lot better than his own. There wasn’t anything she could do to make him not appreciate her presence.

  He escorted her to the two barstools closest to the wall. This way she had a better view of the entire place. “MaKayla, this is my best friend and business partner, Jesse Love.”

  They shook hands.

  “Don’t you own For The Love of Cars garage down the road?”

  Jesse nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “My son Alex takes his car there. He’s very impressed that you have a girl working for you.”

  “Yeah, I know him. Good kid. He’s in college now, right?”

  She nodded. “He’ll be home on Christmas break.”

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  Dustin chuckled when she glanced his way. He knew exactly the thought racing through her mind. “I’m not going to get you drunk and take advantage of you. Unless of course, you want me to.”

  She giggled, and nodded at Jesse. “I’ll have a white wine, please.”

  Dustin drummed his fingers as his friend and co-owner of the bar poured a drink for his publicist. He shook his head as MaKayla’s eyes glanced up at the bartender a couple times. Jesse had a natural sex appeal—something another guy would never understand, even after Dana pointed out that Jesse’s long lashes and whispery voice hypnotized the female mind—that fascinated women. Jesse’s charms had helped to lure in the ladies, only to have unfamiliar men buy them drinks. Whatever worked.

  MaKayla’s hand covered Dustin’s. The electrical shock that zipped through his blood warmed the previously cold, dead engine he’d had since waking from his coma. He’d never expected to meet a woman who could make him feel alive again, or make him want to love again. Nevertheless, he had.

  His thumb caressed the side of her hand and neither moved. Jesse must have felt the heated moment because he’d left them alone.

  Why couldn’t she be an ordinary woman without ties to his past? A woman he could fall in love with without having to jump through hoops.

  She removed her hand and then forced a smile when their eyes met. “Tonight we’re going to learn how to control this bad habit of yours. When you’re on the air, you can’t be drumming your fingers.”

  Back to business! “Okay. What else do I need to learn?”

  She pulled a folder from her bag. “We go on the air in two weeks.” She handed him a piece of paper with a bulleted outline. “This is a list of things you need to make sure you put out there during the interview. The band Spurs will be playing all night at the grand opening. If customers bring in a can of food for the food bank or a can of pet food for the animal shelter, they will get a ticket for the raffle prizes. Buck Wilson agreed to give a private fifteen-minute interview to a winning caller. He’s going to send out a recruiter from the record company who will drop in on occasion during open mic nights. Any questions so far?”

  He had a few—but they had nothing to do with business promotions. His mind wouldn’t concentrate on what she was saying as his eyes focused on her tongue gently moistening her lips.

  MaKayla pointed at the dance floor. “I hope after this grand opening, there will be a lot more people out there every night of the week. Maybe you’ll even need to cut down more trees for parking.”

  For now Dustin had to focus on what was important to her—business. The only thing on his mind these past few days had been figuring out a way to get her to talk about the accident, hopefully to move on and possibly to being more than business partners. He pulled a few pages out of the packet she handed him. “This flyer is amazing. You put all this together in three days?”

  “I had all the ideas in my head. Getting everything onto paper was the challenge.”

  ****

  A strange glint in his eye made MaKayla wonder. “You’re not being nice because…you know?”

  His smile looked forced. “Not at all. I like how you turned the autographed guitar into a mystery. Maybe after all these years I’ll find out who signed it.”

  She rested her hand on his forearm. “Is something bothering you tonight? You’re not your usual self.”

  He turned and caressed her cheek. “You’re right. Come on.” He gathered everything from the counter, picked her purse up off the floor, and then walked toward his office.

  Seeing him carrying her purse made MaKayla realize that Dustin did what he had to do to get what he wanted. A woman followed her purse.

  In a few years she knew he’d be buying his daughter makeup and female products and thinking nothing of it. How could she not be attracted to a man who was so secure in his masculinity?

  He placed her belongings on the desk. His bottom rested along the edge as he folded his arms. “You sure know how to read me.”

  She stepped in front of him. “So what’s on your mind?”

  “Us.”

  “The business deal? What’s wrong?”

  He reached out and pulled her closer. “We need to talk about the accident.”

  “There’s nothing to say,”—especially to the man she blamed for the whole thing, even if her head and heart were not on the same page—“except thank you for closing the case. I appreciate what you did.”

  “I did that before I knew who you were. It was time to put the past behind me, as well as allow Paul’s family to do the same. Now, more than ever, we need to move forward, MaKayla.” His fingers slid beneath her hair as his thumb caressed her cheek. “We can’t deny this attraction. And I’m tired of trying to fight it.”

  She tilted her head toward his touch. “We do have an unusual chemistry, but anything more between us would complicate things.”

  “In what ways?”

  “Alex wouldn’t u
nderstand. Not to mention Paul’s parents.”

  “What about what MaKayla wants?” A loaded question she didn’t know how to answer.

  She wanted what she couldn’t have—not to be alone, the noises in her backyard to go away, a husband to spoil, and another child to mother. “It doesn’t matter what I want. What matters is doing the right thing.”

  “For who?”

  “For everyone.”

  “Even if it means being unhappy? When was the last time you did something for MaKayla without worrying about consequences?” He rolled his tongue and smiled.

  “There was liquor involved. Otherwise, I never would have growled at you.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Because it’s inappropriate.”

  “A tease?”

  “Yes.”

  He cupped her cheeks between his palms. “I find you sexy as hell and I’m going to kiss you. The time to stop me would be right now.”

  Even as the memory of their last shared kiss surfaced, knowing her common sense would make no sense at all while in his embrace, she couldn’t force herself to step back. Instead, she leaned forward and captured his mouth. His soft lips parted and his tongue greeted hers with passion and hunger. The only sounds were her thundering heartbeat and soft moans.

  As much as she wanted to continue enjoying his hands roaming her backside, and her own fingers running through his hair, she couldn’t allow herself the temporary pleasure. Leaving after their business contract expired would only be that much harder.

  “Dustin.” She placed her forehead against his and inhaled deeply. Her body was so aroused she stepped closer as if that would ease the ache between her thighs. “I’m supposed to be getting you ready for your radio interview.”

  “Interview.” He met her gaze and grinned. “Business. Right.”

  Chapter Eleven

  MaKayla drove through the city streets with her window down. The scent of dying leaves floated in the brisk fall air. Dustin had his big interview with Charlie Peterson at the radio station in less than an hour.

  Never again would she allow herself only two weeks to mail out postcards to residents, post flyers at local businesses, and advertise in The Dalton Tennessee Times.

  There hadn’t been enough time to do everything she had first planned to help promote No Bulls, but it’d been long enough to be ready for the grand opening tomorrow night.

  She turned into the station’s parking lot and pulled alongside Dustin’s vehicle. He stepped out and opened her door. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Are you ready for this?”

  She raised a brow. He was the one going on the air. She had the easy job. “Are you?”

  “You’ve been a great coach. How could I not be?”

  She opened her back door and removed her bag from the backseat. “I’m sure Charlie Peterson would rather have Buck here tonight. I hope he doesn’t get snooty with you…the way he did with me.”

  “Don’t worry. I can handle him.” Dustin hid his concern well.

  Her hands were so cold from nerves they were numb. The chilly, stale building they stepped into didn’t help to warm her.

  They stood in front of a glass window and waited until the receptionist hung up the phone. “May I help you?”

  “This is Dustin James. He has an interview with Mr. Peterson.”

  “Come on in.” The brunette woman buzzed them inside.

  MaKayla’s heels sank into the tan carpeting as she walked down the hallway. An auburn-haired gentleman directed them into a control room and gave Dustin the rundown on what to expect and how Mr. Peterson operated.

  After all, Peterson was the boss and he did things his way. She couldn’t fault him. He’d taken this business to the top all on his own. He must be doing something right.

  MaKayla touched Dustin’s arm as Charlie Peterson turned toward the window and waved him into the studio. “Good luck.”

  ****

  Dustin had been fascinated with a disc jockey’s job ever since he was a kid. Entering the studio felt surreal. He removed his Stetson, gave his publicist a nod, and then entered the equipment-crowded room. There was hardly enough space to walk around the center table.

  He sat across from Charlie Peterson who instructed him to put on a pair of headsets. “Welcome. Just relax and be yourself.” Peterson tilted his microphone against his mouth. “Okay, folks, we’re back with a special guest this evening. Our Drive at Five segments give our listeners a chance to relax and learn what’s happening around town over the weekend. Tonight I’m here with Dalton’s newest country nightclub owner, Dustin James. Welcome, Dustin.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Peterson. It’s an honor to be here.” Judging by the deep voice that came over the radio each day, Dustin would have pegged the man to be an old, balding dude who wore plaid golfer’s pants year-round. To his surprise, Peterson couldn’t have been older than thirty-five, had a wrestler’s build, thick brown hair, and large green eyes.

  “So, Dustin, tell us about this new club, No Bulls. I hear Buck Wilson will be signing his new album Good Old Days at the grand opening tomorrow night.”

  “That’s right. Buck will be there to sign autographs and meet his fans. We’re also going to have a local band, The Spurs, playing, and of course there will be free line dancing lessons.”

  “Sounds fun. So how come you didn’t get Buck to come with you today?”

  “He’s resting up for the big night tomorrow. I hope he’s also saving up his appetite for the free food samples we’ll be serving from my good friend, Wesley Miller’s Steak-On Restaurant. Speaking of food, if you bring—”

  “In other words, you couldn’t get Buck to come today?”

  This had to be a perfect example of what MaKayla had warned Dustin about—unexpected questions and comments during interviews, the interviewer twisting the interviewee’s words.

  He’d show MaKayla he understood the reasoning behind her training and let her know she’d done a great job at preparing him. His lawyer skills might not be as sharp as they had been, but MaKayla’s priming had put those skills on alert.

  “Well, if Buck were here, he’d ask your listeners to bring a can of food for the food bank, or a can of pet food for the animal shelter so that they can get extra raffle tickets for the prizes we’ll be giving away. The more you bring in, the more chances you have at winning.”

  “Okay, we’ll follow that line of thinking. If Buck were here taking questions, as he will be at No Bulls tomorrow at seven o’clock, what reasons would he give our audience for visiting? What’s so special about this No Bulls club?”

  Determined to make this interview count, Dustin tried to remember everything his publicist had drilled into his skull. “Well, during the week, we’ll be having open mic nights. Buck has asked a talent scout to visit periodically. Our dance coaches offer line-dancing as well as the two-step, the waltz, and swing. We’re also going to be looking for a DJ to do Karaoke.”

  “Dustin, I hear your place is a tribute to cowboys. Explain that.”

  “Some folks refer to No Bulls as a museum. I come from a long line of cowboys. The place is filled with old items dating back to the nineteenth century. I have an autographed guitar my grandmother had stored in her attic. If any of your listeners have been long-time fans of country music, I’d love for them to come down and take a look. Maybe someone could figure out the signature.”

  “A mystery? Great. Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

  The DJ pointed to the watch on his wrist. Dustin had to wrap things up and he’d yet to mention the call-in.

  His publicist hadn’t been able to help him break a long-time habit, but she had come up with a solution—moving his hands off the counter onto his thighs helped stifle the drumming sound of his nervous fingers.

  “Mr. Peterson, here’s a big surprise. My publicist, MaKayla Adams, from M & M Public Relations, has arranged for Buck Wilson to give a private, fifteen-minute interview tomorrow night to one of
your listeners.”

  “Okay, folks. Buck Wilson, a shot at being discovered, an unsolved mystery, and the best music by none other than our local talent, The Spurs. It’s all happening tomorrow night at No Bulls, 412 Red Star Road, in Dalton at seven o’clock. And now, caller number twelve will win a personal meeting with country music legend, Buck Wilson. Thanks for sticking around for your Drive at Five. Phone lines are now open, 555-4242. Good luck.”

  And they were off the air. Dustin took a breath and removed his headset. On the opposite side of the window, MaKayla stood with a large grin and a thumbs-up. He gave her a nod and stood. “I hope you’ll stop by tomorrow night, Mr. Peterson. The first one’s on the house. Thanks for having me on the show.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll be there tomorrow.” He reached for the phone line. “Hello, you’re caller number twelve. What’s your name?” He wrote down the name and then handed the paper to Dustin.

  Dustin opened the door and stepped into the control room while Charlie Peterson continued to talk on the phone. He handed the yellow paper to MaKayla. “Here’s our winner.”

  “You did great.” She hugged him and then quickly let go to read the winner’s name. “Tiffany Reynolds.”

  ****

  MaKayla sat at the bar and admired the view. The place looked wonderful. Dustin’s sister and several of his friends had decorated No Bulls with balloons, flowers, and candles. The smell of shrimp was too much for her nervous stomach.

  Only a half hour left before the grand opening kickoff. This was what she’d worked so hard toward. This was what she’d wanted. So why was her stomach in knots, wishing this day had never come? Hopefully, she could keep herself together until the last customer exited the building this evening.

  “Are you okay?”

  She glanced sideways, away from her checklist, and forced a smile at Dustin who sat on the stool beside her. If all went well after tonight, there would be no need to finish out his contract. She would have no reason to be this close to him again. “I’m fine.”