Love's Road Home

by Lisa Lewis

  Love’s Road Home

  Lisa Lewis

  LOVE’S ROAD HOME

  Copyright © 2010 by Lisa Lewis

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way by any means without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Please note that if you have purchased this book without a cover or in any way marked as an advance reading copy, you have purchased a stolen item, and neither the author nor the publisher has been compensated for their work.

  Our books may be ordered through your local bookstore or by visiting the publisher:

  www.BlackLyonPublishing.com

  Black Lyon Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 567

  Baker City, OR 97814

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, events, organizations and conversations in this novel are either the products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used in a fictitious way for the purposes of this story.

  ISBN-10: 1-934912-25-5

  ISBN-13: 978-1-934912-25-6

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2010921721

  Written, published and printed in the United States of America.

  Black Lyon Contemporary Romance

  Formy family – Oscar, Tessa, and Bethany.

  Ihope this makes you proud.

  Formy parents - Emily and George.

  I’mglad you liked the book Ma, and I’m sorry

  Daddynever had the chance to read it.

  Thanksto everyone who gave help and hope along the way, especially Oscar and Sandy.

  Andspecial thanks to Chris of Albany’s Palace Theatre, who graciously shared his knowledge of concert tours with me.

  Anyvariations from true roadie/band life are strictly

  myown, for the sake of the story.

  Chapter One

  Tom Crowley’s guitar fell silent, leaving only the echo of his last chords sounding in his band’s makeshift rehearsal hall. Problem was, the song wasn’t over yet.

  “Hey, Tommy, what’s goin’ on? You don’t like the song anymore?” Leo Harper grinned at Tom from his position at the lead microphone, his thick East Texas accent showing itself once again.

  Tom shook his head, trying to get back on track. He just had to erase the image lingering in his mind. He’d only caught a glimpse of her, and he was sure no one could look that good up close. “Sorry, Leo. Let’s take it from the top again, okay?”

  Tom strummed the intro to their song “Dandelions,” and listened as Leo began to croon the melody. Their band, Roadhouse, was launching an East Coast tour in two days in support of their recently recorded debut album. After singing at various clubs in and around their hometown of Savannah, they were finally moving things up a notch.

  Just as Tom joined in, blending his baritone voice with Leo’s in the song’s chorus, he saw her again—the same vision of beauty that had disrupted him on the last run through. She was wandering around the room as if searching for someone. Luckily, he kept himself focused and made it through the whole song without embarrassing himself again.

  “Okay, let’s break for fifteen,” Leo suggested. “We can’t wear ourselves out before we play the first big gig.”

  The other band members left their instruments and moved toward the warehouse space that currently housed beer and snacks. But Tom set down his guitar and walked over to his friend. “Hey, Leo, who’s that blonde over with George? I haven’t seen her before.”

  George Miller was the road manager that the record producer had hired for their tour. Tom considered the band lucky to have him. He’d been in the business for thirty-odd years, and they were the greenhorns. The band was counting on George’s expertise to get them through their first touring experience with as few problems as possible.

  “That’s George’s daughter. She’s going to be around for the tour, I guess.”

  “What do you mean, ‘be around’?”

  “George hired her as a roadie for us.”

  Tom couldn’t hide the surprised look on his face. “What? Her? A roadie?”

  “You got a problem with that, talk to George. We all knew he had carte blanche with hiring the tour crew.”

  “Yeah, I know we did, but what kind of work can she do? Is this just nepotism or what?”

  Leo shrugged. “Hey, I trust George to know what has to be done and that all his crew members can pull their own weight. Like I said, you don’t like it, talk to him. I gotta hit the john. See you in a few.” Leo gave a jaunty salute and headed toward the bathroom.

  Tom turned back toward the tall, leggy blonde, still engaged in conversation with her father. He truly thought she was a sight to behold, but good looks wouldn’t keep their tour from being a disaster. And it was his professional life that needed attention, not his sex life.

  He purposefully moved toward the couple, determined to get some answers.

  •

  “I told you, Dad, I can handle this. I won’t let you down.” Beth Miller was tired of repeating herself. If her father didn’t trust her to do a good job, then he should have said so in the first place. Lord knew she couldn’t sink any lower than she already had, and an early morning McDonald’s shift surely would have taught her a lesson she deserved.

  “Anything you want me to do, ask,” she continued. “Don’t do me any favors by trying to make this job easier. You already did more than you should’ve by hiring me as a roadie in the first place.”

  “Yes, Bethany, I hired you. But I’d also understand if you weren’t comfortable being back in this environment and had to leave.” George sighed. “I just don’t need the hassle of finding a new roadie in mid-tour. The boys are depending on me to keep everything running smoothly.”

  The “boys” her father spoke of were really grown men who acted like juveniles. Beth had no desire to be around such people, but right now her options were limited. “I’m sure the boys would understand if something happens. Every tour you’ve been on in the last thirty-four years couldn’t have gone perfectly. Things just happen, right? And, besides, I told you there won’t be any problems caused by me. I promise.”

  “Hey, George, how are things shaping up? We going to be heading out on schedule?”

  Beth jumped as the whiskey-smooth voice spoke from behind her, practically in her ear.

  “Everything is fine, Tom.” George waved a hand toward Beth as a tall, masculine form moved to her left. “Have you met my daughter, Bethany? She’s going to be helping us out on the road.”

  Beth was stunned. She’d seen all the band members from a distance while they practiced, but this was the first time she’d met one of them up close. And this one was really close. She looked into his dark brown eyes and felt the heat of his body even before he stepped toward her, arm outstretched.

  “Nice to make your acquaintance, Bethany. I’m Tom. Tom Crowley.” His handsome face lit up as he sent a crooked grin her way. “But you probably knew that, right?”

  Beth shook herself out of the mental fog she’d been in. She’d already learned that good looks and good character were independent traits, and she would not go down that road again. Ignoring Tom’s proffered hand, she sent him a disparaging look. “No, actually I didn’t. I’m not a fan of the band, and I’m not much into country music in general.”

  The grin slid off Tom’s face as he slowly lowered his arm. Her father sent her a look of admonishment, but Beth didn’t feel the least ashamed of her words.

  “Didn’t you say the amps and speakers had to be inventoried and marked before being loaded tomorrow? I’ll go find Cole so we can get started.” Ignoring Tom and George’s looks of disbelief, she turned and marched off to find the fellow roadie.


  •

  “What the hell is her problem?” Even though the woman had completely irritated him, Tom couldn’t help staring after her, noting the sexy sway of her hips as she stalked away.

  “She’s got so many of them right now, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  Tom turned back to George, lifting an eyebrow in inquiry.

  “Not that it’d be my business to tell you any of her problems anyway,” George continued. “You can ask her yourself, if you dare.”

  Tom tucked that idea in the back of his mind, but then got back to the reason for interrupting the man’s conversation in the first place.

  “Look, George, I really just want to know if your daughter can handle herself. I mean, we need this tour to proceed on schedule, with as few screw-ups as possible. We need to have people around who can do the hard labor, move the heavy equipment. Your girl, Bethany, right?” He waited for George’s nod. “She doesn’t look capable of lifting fifty pounds let alone a couple hundred. And besides that, where’s she going to stay? In all your years in the business, I bet you rarely came across a female among the roadies.”

  George waved his arms in a calming gesture. The older man’s brown hair was thinning, but his otherwise toned body didn’t reveal his age. “Now hold on there, Tom, it’s all been figured out. First of all, Bethany might not look too strong, but she’ll do whatever she needs to do. She’s a tough cookie, inside and out. And second, she’ll be bunking with Hannah and Liz while we’re on the road. Marty already okayed all the hiring and travel arrangements. I checked with him as soon as I brought Bethany on board two days ago.”

  Tom felt a little more at ease knowing that Roadhouse’s manager, Marty Sills, had approved the crew changes. And he knew the friendly back-up singers wouldn’t mind sharing their living quarters with Bethany for the next five weeks. The more, the merrier, they would say.

  “All right. Sorry, George, for being so worried, but we really need to show our stuff the next few weeks, and I guess the stress is getting to me. I’m sure everything will be fine.” He gave the man a smile as he watched his band mates regrouping for additional rehearsal. “Talk to you later.”

  As Tom headed back toward his friends, his smile slipped away. For some reason, he had a feeling this tour wasn’t going to be as untroubled as he’d hoped.

  •

  Beth dropped down onto the barstool and signaled to the man wiping down the oak countertop. “I’ll have a light beer. Whatever you have on tap.”

  As the foamy brew was set down in front of her, Beth let out a long, deep breath and allowed the soft bluegrass tunes coming from the jukebox to wash over her. She was beat. She knew office work made people soft, but she’d thought her workouts at the company gym five times a week had kept her in decent shape. Was she ever wrong. She hadn’t really known the meaning of sore muscles until today.

  Now, after her first day of being a roadie, she was exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally. It had been hard work fighting the constant compulsion to watch Tom Crowley as he rehearsed. Ever since her encounter with him earlier in the day, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Beth knew she’d been rude, but it was pretty much how she was with everyone lately. He’d merely been unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up suffering from her caustic tongue.

  She felt a lot better now.

  Her father had risked a lot by hiring her to work on Roadhouse’s premiere tour, and Beth knew she owed him for that. It had taken her a couple weeks of feeling sorry for herself before she’d called George and asked for his help. Just in time, too, because her savings account was nearly empty.

  Taking a long draw of her beer, Beth looked around the dimly lit club. It was pretty empty, but that was to be expected at three o’clock on a Thursday afternoon. This place probably didn’t see much action until the weekend, when local bands played to a full house of dancing, flirting, party-hardy people. Beth idly wondered if Roadhouse had ever played here.

  Which brought her thoughts right back to Tom Crowley.

  She’d never seen a sexier man. He wasn’t attractive in a big-city, polished sort of way, but in a laid-back aw-shucks ma’am manner. She had never been attracted to men like that before, but something about this man had captured her attention. It could’ve been the deep chocolate-brown eyes that had twinkled at her, or the wicked grin he’d tossed her way. She’d absolutely loved how his dark hair was styled, trimmed fairly close to his scalp yet still long enough for a woman to run her fingers through it. Really hot. And Beth definitely knew that his voice had captivated her with its smooth southern drawl.

  Too bad he hadn’t had something interesting to say with that voice.

  Oh,well.

  Beth smiled to herself and took another swig of beer. At least she had a job now and could feel proud of herself for doing hard, honest work.

  “That smile for any reason in particular?”

  She nearly choked on her beer. Her thoughts must have conjured him up because Tom Crowley was standing just behind her right shoulder. Coughing and trying to catch her breath, she couldn’t resist giving him the once-over. Still dressed in the worn jeans and gray T-shirt he’d had on earlier, Tom looked cool and relaxed. She, on the other hand, felt haggard and grubby in her own shirt and jeans, having come straight to the bar from work. She hadn’t expected to socialize with anyone, least of all Tom.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Tom gestured to the empty stool beside her. “Do you mind if I sit?”

  Cautiously, Beth shook her head. She wondered what he wanted.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here or not. Your father said you were going to get a drink, and I took a chance that you headed here to Gregory’s, seeing as it was the closest bar.”

  Surprised, she asked, “You were looking for me?”

  “Yeah. I thought we got off on the wrong foot, and I didn’t want to spend the next month on the road avoiding each other for a no-good reason. I wanted to start over again, with no assumptions being made. Fair enough?”

  Beth slowly took a drink of beer, pondering his words and the real reason behind them. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was her improved mood after a difficult day’s work was over. Regardless, she decided to give him a chance.

  “Fair enough.”

  •

  Tom slowly let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding. He wasn’t sure what exactly had driven him to seek out this prickly woman, but now that he’d found her, he really did want to start over. For the sake of the tour, he reminded himself. Not for personal reasons.

  He extended his hand. “Hi. My name’s Tom Crowley. I sing and play lead guitar for Roadhouse. I hear you’re going to be working with us on our tour.”

  A slender, lightly tanned hand slipped into his, giving a strong, firm shake before withdrawing. “Nice to meet you, Tom. I’m Beth Miller.”

  Tom got the bartender’s attention and gave an order for whiskey on the rocks. Then he turned back to his companion. “Your father called you Bethany earlier. You don’t like that?”

  She scrunched up her nose and shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess. It just makes me feel like a little girl again when he calls me that. But I suppose it’s better than what he says when I disappoint him. ‘Oh, Bethie. What have you done now?’ I can still hear those words in my head whenever I do something wrong.”

  “Well, I think Bethany is a real classy name. Although Beth is cool, too. Did you ever hear the Kiss ballad called “Beth?” It’s a great song.”

  He sang softly, “Beth, I hear you callin’ …”

  Beth smiled and rolled her eyes at him. “Are you kidding? Of course I’ve heard it. In fact, I was named after that song. My parents made out endlessly to seventies music, and I might even have been conceived to it. Not that I like to think about stuff like that.” Beth shuddered dramatically at the thought.

  Tom chuckled and took a swallow of his drink. “Yeah, no one likes to think about their pa
rents doing it.” And he was trying really hard not to think about himself doing it … with Bethany. “Did George ever roadie for Kiss? He was on the road during their heyday, right?”

  A shadow crossed over Beth’s face but quickly disappeared. “I don’t think he worked with them, although he’s been traveling with different bands longer than I’ve been alive. Rock and roll, grunge, rap, and now country acts. He’s done it all, and he never seems to tire of it. I sometimes think he’ll die on the road, hauling equipment for one band or another.” She took another sip of her beer.

  “Would that bother you, if he went that way? I mean, if he’s doing what he loves when he goes, would that be so bad? Not that he’s going to die any time soon, in my opinion. He looks healthy as a horse, in great shape for his age. Do you know anything different?”

  Beth glared at him over her glass, her light blue eyes shining like icicles. “Don’t worry. To my knowledge, nothing is going to ruin your precious tour. Least of all the death of my father.”

  Tom glared right back at her, offended by what she was thinking. “Okay, listen here. I was trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find out more about you, maybe. But I was not, under any circumstances, trying to ensure my own career status by pulling some inside information from you. Nothing was further from my mind. I consider George a friend, not just a co-worker, and I asked about his health in that capacity. Contrary to whatever you believe, I do care about people other than myself.”

  Beth ducked her head, shielding her face behind a curtain of long blonde hair. “I’m sorry. I’ve been in a real bad mood today, and you always seem to be the one I take it out on. I guess I’ve just been inclined to think the worst about everyone I meet lately. I’m real sorry.”

  She tucked her hair behind one ear and looked at him with a small, hopeful smile on her face. “Please, can we start over again? Like you said, it’ll be a long five weeks if we can’t act civil to each other.”

  Studying Bethany’s face, Tom tried once again to not think about being more than civil to each other. A slightly upturned nose. High cheekbones and expressive silvery-blue eyes. Full lips and smooth, sun-kissed skin. Nice features individually, but together they formed a picture of true beauty. He really wanted to get to know this woman better.