by Lisa Lewis
She shrugged her shoulders in response. Go ahead. You may as well finish.
But Tom was the one who spoke next. “Beth thought there were rabbits on the bunny slope, and she didn’t want to hurt them. Is that it?”
She snapped her head around to stare at him, her mouth agape. Then her gaze shot to her father, who insisted, “I didn’t tell him, honey. I swear.”
Beth looked back to Tom, disbelieving. “Lucky guess.”
He slowly shook his head, his dark gaze locked with hers as he mouthed, “I know you.” At the same time Jack said, “He was right? That’s too weird.”
“Yeah, but that’s exactly how it was,” George answered. “But once she calmed down and I showed her the hill, Beth was fine.”
“So you ended up having fun that day?” Dylan, the ski enthusiast, just had to ask her that. And Tom, of course, kept watching her, waiting for her reply.
Beth thought long and hard before answering. She’d always remembered that day as one more time when her father didn’t understand her, didn’t want her around because she interfered with his fun.
But now she forced herself to objectively picture what happened on the mountain.
Yes, she’d been upset. She’d been a child—one who had never skied before and had a vivid imagination.
Yet her father had not laughed at her. He hadn’t tried to hurry her along or force her to the slope against her will.
Instead, he had sat down next to her and hugged her while she cried. And when she’d finally explained why she was upset, George had calmly pointed to the beginner’s slope from the window of the lodge and let her make up her own mind about going outside.
Her father had been loving and supportive, and it had turned out to be one of the best days of her life.
Beth doubted she’d ever thanked her father for it before, but there was no time like the present. “I had a terrific time.” She looked her father in the eye. “Thank you, daddy. It was fun.”
To everyone else her statement may have sounded completely ordinary, but, to Beth, it was momentous. By saying those words aloud, she had admitted to herself that her childhood might not have been the nightmare she kept proclaiming it was.
“You’re welcome, honey.” George winked and then resumed talking to Dylan, this time in a quieter voice.
The rustling noises behind her indicated the others also had gone back to their previous activities. But Beth sensed that one person remained unmoving. Watching her.
She carefully turned her head to meet Tom’s gaze. From the look in his eyes, she knew he’d realized that part of her defenses were in shambles.
And if he pushed hard enough, the rest would come tumbling down, too, leaving her with no willpower to say no to him.
•
Syracuse stirred up a mix of emotions in Tom.
As usual, performing raised him to a high no drug could ever hope to match. And, due to the hard work of the crew, the show had once again gone smoothly.
But the feelings aroused by Beth—love, concern, frustration—did their best to douse the excitement of the concert. Tom could feel the internal struggle throughout his performance, and he fought hard not to let it show.
By the crowd’s enthusiastic reaction, he thought he’d pulled it off. But now, at the post-concert autograph session, Tom discovered he hadn’t been able to hide his feelings well enough.
“You gotta snap out of it, man,” Leo said in a low voice. Fans were lined up, waiting for the band to sign their programs and other assorted merchandise. Any minute the security guards would allow them to file past the long tables to briefly chat with the performers.
Tom figured this really wasn’t a good time for Leo to bring up personal issues. “I’m fine, Leo. Let it be.”
“I can’t. All our asses are on the line, not just yours. We’ve worked too hard to blow it now.”
The first of the crowd, two teenage boys, approached the other end of the table where Beth and Hannah were seated.
“Nothing’s going to get blown, Leo. The show went well, and the audience loved us.”
Beth’s face lit up as she spoke to the boys and signed their programs. She and Hannah even posed for a picture with the teens before the guards prompted them to keep the line moving. God, she was beautiful.
A rough shake of Tom’s left shoulder pulled his focus from Beth. “What the hell?”
“You may have done well enough on stage tonight, but you’re screwing up royally right now. You haven’t stopped staring at Beth since we’ve sat down, and it’s gotta stop. I don’t know what went on between the two of you, and I don’t want to know. But none of these people need to know, either. They have to come first right now. Got it?”
Tom had never seen his friend so angry before. “You’re right. This isn’t the time or the place.”
As the line of high-spirited fans reached their end of the table, Tom purposefully shoved all thoughts of Beth out of his mind. Young, old, black, white, male, female—Roadhouse’s great variety of supporters served to distract him with their jokes, compliments, and questions.
But toward the end of the long night, as the final stragglers made their way along the table, images of Bethany crept back in.
Her voice, her laughter—without even looking her way, he was constantly reminded of how much he wanted her. How much he loved her.
There was absolutely no way he could let her go.
“Oh, no. You’ve got that glazed look in your eyes again. Can’t you hold on just a few more minutes?”
He turned to Leo. “I love Beth, and I asked her to marry me.”
Hazel eyes widened. “What did she say?”
Wham! The men jumped as a tour program was slammed down on the table in front of Tom. He raised his gaze to look into the narrowed eyes of a young, dark-haired woman.
She was clearly upset, so he quickly pasted a wide smile on his face and tried to smooth things over. “Sorry, ma’am. How are you tonight?”
As Tom scribbled a greeting across a page of the souvenir book, he asked the same general questions he’d asked other fans. How’d you like the show? What did you like the best? What’s your favorite Roadhouse song?
Any answers he obtained could be used to make future concerts better. But, of course, it only helped if he actually listened to the answers given, and this time he didn’t. His mind was busy running through scenarios of how to convince Bethany they belonged together.
“Nice meeting you,” he said, trying not to be rude but wanting to get this night over with. He slid the girl’s program over to Leo and turned to the last two people in line—a middle-aged couple wearing matching white concert tees, jeans, and brown cowboy hats.
He soon learned the pair lived in Tennessee but were in New York visiting friends. They’d heard about the concert at the last minute and had abandoned their hosts for the night because the wife was such an admirer of the band.
“And if Jessie wants to do something, we do it. Right, sugarplum?”
While her husband looked on with an indulgent smile, Tom carefully signed Jessie’s T-shirt across her slightly rotund abdomen.
“I hope the show was worth all the trouble you went to.”
“Oh, it was fantastic!” Jessie said. “Even Bob was dancing around, and, trust me, that doesn’t happen much. It’s quite the sight!” She laughed and nudged her husband in the side. He responded by lifting her in a big bear hug and planting a loud smooch on her bright red lips.
“Oh, Bobby, now quit it.” Jessie playfully slapped Bob’s chest before turning back to pick up her autographed program from Leo. “Save it for later, sweetie, when we don’t have an audience.”
Tom and Leo burst out laughing when their outspoken fan winked at them and slid an arm through her husband’s. “Tootles, boys! Keep up the great work!”
The woman waved bejeweled fingers at them as the twosome moved away. Tom just shook his head and laughed harder when he saw Bob’s hand slide down to squeeze his wife’s ampl
e rear end.
The couple had been very sweet, and the way they’d interacted with one another had made Tom envious. That’s what he wanted with Beth. For as long as he lived, he wanted her by his side. He wanted to dote on her, treasure her, do anything he could to make her happy. He’d shout his feelings from the rooftop if he had to, just to convince her they could make it—together.
Wait a minute.
“So what’d she say when you proposed?”
Tom looked back to Leo, his mind still tossing the idea around. It just might work. “She said no. But it doesn’t matter.”
“I think if the woman turned you down, it matters.”
The band members pushed their chairs back and stood, preparing to leave the Landmark Theatre for the night.
“You just have to move on, buddy. Even if you don’t want to.” Leo clamped a strong hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Sorry.”
“No, Leo.” Tom shook off his friend’s grip. “It’s not over. I’m not letting her go.” His gaze followed Bethany as she led the rest of Roadhouse, heading out behind the security guards.
As the group moved past a few fans lingering near the backstage doors, Tom caught sight of the brunette he’d inadvertently irritated minutes earlier. He threw a cheery wave and smile in her direction, hoping to eradicate any bad feelings she might still harbor. Roadhouse didn’t need anyone speaking ill of its members at this stage of the game.
Moving into the backstage area, Tom immediately resumed his quiet conversation with Leo. “I think I know how to win Beth over. But I’ll need everybody’s help to do it.”
•
Beth was preparing to go on stage at Albany’s Palace Theatre when Hannah walked into their shared dressing room. “Here.” She handed Beth a sheet of paper. “It’s the set list for tonight’s show. The guys wanted to do something a little different and switched up a couple of songs.”
Beth looked over the list. From what she could see, the only song that was out of its usual order was “Dandelions.” It was now the last song of the night. “Why the change?” she asked Hannah.
The other woman shrugged. “You’d have to ask them that. I just do what I’m told.” She sliced a chunk of cheddar from the block on a nearby snack tray and popped it in her mouth.
Beth studied Hannah’s expression. In the short time she’d known her, the redhead had never seemed the meek type.
“Twenty minutes ’til show time!” came the call through the backstage area.
As Hannah took a seat next to her at the vanity, Beth continued applying her stage make-up and let her suspicions fade away. It wasn’t really a big deal, anyway. Since “Dandelions” was currently in the top ten of both the Pop and Country charts, the men had probably decided to emphasize its success by playing it as the final song of their concert tour.
The thought made her hand shake, and she quickly wiped off the spot of mascara that landed beside her eye.
Tomorrow would be the last she’d see of Tom, and she had no one to blame but herself. Not because she hadn’t accepted his marriage proposal—that would’ve only led to heartache for both of them—but for not having the courage to believe in their love in the first place.
No matter how strong her feelings were for Tom—and she loved him with all her heart—she was convinced she would eventually do something that would push him away for good.
Best case scenario? She’d make his life miserable because her dislike of life on the road was so deeply ingrained.
But what she’d told Tom the other night had been the honest truth: She would never ask him to quit the band or stop performing. Music was his life, and his hard work and dedication to the craft made her love him all the more.
So until she could get over what he did for a living, or at least make peace with it, she had to leave. There was no telling when, or if, this crucial revelation would occur, and she had no right to ask Tom to wait until it did.
He had to do what he had to do, and so did she.
Beth let out a deep breath and took a last look at herself in the mirror. Her fancy make-up and relaxed hairstyle had her looking calm and collected, but she knew inside that she was barely hanging on.
Tough cookies. Get out there and give it everything you’ve got. For Tom.
Widening her eyes and blinking to clear the moisture that had welled up, Beth stood. “Ready?” she asked.
“Yup. I’m good to go.” Hannah stood and made a final adjustment to the bodice of her snug black dress. “Let’s do it, sweetie.”
Forcing a bright smile to her face, Beth headed out to sing for her lover for the last time.
•
Music was a balm for any weary soul. It could either lift a person out of the doldrums or comfort him if there was no other solace to be had.
Halfway through the first song, Beth no longer had to pretend she was enjoying herself. The band’s energy spread throughout the theatre, to every audience member and back to her. She knew no matter what the future held for her and Tom, she’d never forget being a part of this experience. Having worked as both a roadie and a singer, the past five weeks on the road would leave behind nothing but fond memories.
She’d made some good friends, and she’d fallen in love with a great guy. Even made some money to boot.
And the best news of all had come mere seconds before Roadhouse took the stage, when they’d been informed that Eric Sharpe had been captured in Las Vegas.
Beth had been right about him. He hadn’t the slightest interest in taking revenge on her. He may have spared the time to send her a nasty bouquet, but that was the extent of his malevolence.
It seemed Eric would rather use his precious free time to gamble and visit strip clubs.
So Beth was worry-free for the moment and able to totally immerse herself in the excitement of performing. Everyone on stage added something unique to the show, and although she knew she wasn’t a great talent, Beth hoped she complemented the others in some way. From the audience’s reaction, they loved everything they saw and heard.
Intermission came and went too fast for Beth. Between using the bathroom and fixing her make-up, she had no time to talk to the men. With tomorrow being the Fourth of July, some of them were departing right after the autograph session to visit relatives over the long weekend, and she didn’t know if she’d have time to properly say goodbye.
For all the complaining she’d done about traveling, and she’d complained a lot, one would think she’d be happy the tour was ending. But, instead, she dreaded its close.
She was really going to miss these guys. Tom the most, of course, but all the men and women she’d met had become her friends, and San Francisco didn’t seem quite so appealing anymore.
“Don’t forget about the set change,” Hannah reminded her as they exited their dressing room for the second time.
“Oh. Right.” Beth’s attention drifted as the men emerged from their nearby rooms. Her eyes searched for and found Tom in the narrow hallway.
No doubt the man could wear a paper bag and still look hot.
But, right now, in his informal outfit of faded blue jeans, black T-shirt, and sneakers, he looked like your friendly neighborhood blue-collar worker. Yummy.
His dark gaze locked with hers, and Beth almost looked away, unwilling to see the hurt in his eyes from what she’d done. But then, of all things, he winked.
Here she was, thinking she’d broken his heart, and he just smiled that sexy smile of his and winked at her.
Then he turned away and headed back toward the stage area.
“Are you done catching flies? Can we go now?” Hannah waved her hand in front of Beth’s face.
Beth immediately pressed her lips together in a tight smile. “Sure. Let’s get this done.”
They followed the men down the stairs, and minutes later the curtains parted. The crowd welcomed Roadhouse back with rousing cheers.
Once again Beth surrendered to the music. And when Leo introduced the band members for the final t
ime this tour, she soaked up the applause her name elicited.
She knew she would never again perform in surroundings like this, but she had to admit the fans’ attention and appreciation could easily become addictive. And for the introverted person she normally was, that was saying a lot.
Finally it was time for the last song. Beth expected “Dandelions” to be played in its normal, mellow manner. After all, it was a ballad and required no loud accompaniment.
But she was still quite surprised when Leo walked offstage to grab two wooden stools from behind the drapes. As the singer made his way back to center stage, Tom began to speak into his microphone.
“How are ya’ll doin’ tonight? You havin’ fun?”
Each of his questions was greeted with loud cheers and whistles.
“Thanks, man,” he said to Leo as a stool was placed beside him. Then he slid the strap of his electric guitar over his shoulder and set the instrument in a stand to his right, quickly replacing it with an acoustic six-string. The audience quieted down as he began playing a few chords.
This was not the usual approach to performing “Dandelions.” Beth glanced at Hannah, curious to know what was happening. But the other woman remained looking forward as Tom continued on.
“I hope you guys don’t mind if we do something a little different tonight. Something which has never been done before and, hopefully, won’t need to be done again.”
Beth was lost. What the heck was going on? And how come no one else on stage seemed in the least concerned about Tom’s little speech?
In fact, Leo had picked up his own acoustic guitar, and both he and Tom had taken up positions on the stools. All the other men had relaxed poses, and another glance at Hannah showed her trying to suppress a smile. Or maybe it was a laugh.
Because Beth sure felt the joke was on her.
“This is a song I started to write back in college, and I worked all the bugs out of it last year.” The soft music coming from Tom and Leo’s instruments created a warm, inviting atmosphere. The audience remained silent as Tom spoke, undoubtedly impatient to find out what he had in store for them.
Beth was dying to know, too.