He's No Prince Charming

by LuAnn McLane

  “Then we’d be crashing. Isn’t that what you’re trying to avoid?”

  “I can fix that,” Grady promised, and picked up his phone. “I’ll call Miranda right now. You two are both celebrities. She’ll be thrilled. Be right back.”

  Trace opened his mouth to protest, but then clamped it shut, reminding himself that he was going to break out of his seclusion and start living again. Going to this wedding would be jumping in with both feet. But then again, he was never a wading-into-the-shallow-end kind of guy—at least he never used to be.

  He was aware that although Sierra continued squishing her hands through the meatball mix, she was also watching him carefully. “Okay, what?” he asked.

  “The little pop princess sure has shook things up around here, hasn’t she?”

  Trace leaned a hip against the kitchen island. “You got that right.”

  “You have to admit it’s been fun, Trace. It was pretty damned boring around here before she arrived.”

  Trace pursed his lips but nodded, not sure how much of his feelings he wanted to share when he was still getting used to the idea himself.

  “So what brings you over here to the kitchen?”

  Trace shoved his fingers through his hair, feeling a little foolish. “Dakota was up late last night writing songs. I thought I’d run a late lunch over to her, in case she’s hungry.”

  Sierra started forming generous-sized meatballs. “That’s sweet of you.”

  “Yeah, sweet. That’s me all right. Damn it, Sierra, what the hell am I doing? Dakota Dunn doesn’t belong with the likes of me.”

  “Why don’t you let her decide that?”

  Trace closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

  “Look, for what it’s worth, I know how you’re feeling. It’s scary but … exhilarating.”

  Trace arched one eyebrow. “Exhilarating?”

  Sierra’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m tryin’ to expand my vocabulary, okay? Work with me here, or you’ll get a meatball in your face.”

  Trace laughed and raised his palms in the air. “Please don’t aim and fire.”

  “I won’t, but only if you march over there to the fridge and pack that lunch you were talkin’ about. There’s leftover barbecue and slaw in plastic containers. Then over in the pantry you’ll find buns and chips. Pack it up and hightail it over to Dakota. You know you want to, and she will appreciate the kindness.”

  When he hesitated, she raised a meatball in the air as if she were shot-putting. “Don’t make me do it. You know I will,” she said, even though they both knew she wouldn’t.

  “No, do it,” Grady said after he entered the kitchen. “I dare ya.”

  Trace shot him a look.

  “Maybe I don’t dare ya. Hey, Trace, Miranda said that you and Dakota have to come. She even ran it by the drill sergeant.”

  “Drill sergeant?”

  “My mother,” Grady explained. “So are you really gonna ask Dakota to go?”

  When he hesitated again, Sierra picked up another meatball. “I’m ready to lock and load.”

  “I think so,” Trace answered quietly.

  Sierra lowered her ammunition. “Hey, I shouldn’t be joking about this or pushing. You do whatever is right for you, Trace.”

  “Thanks,” he said, and then turned to pack a shopping bag with food and soft drinks. “See y’all later,” he said as he walked toward the door.

  “Say hey to Dakota for us,” Grady called over to him. “No pressure, but it would be fun if you came to the wedding, and Miranda is really excited about the prospect of you two attending.”

  “Thanks,” Trace answered as he pushed open the screen door. He was reminded that going out in such a public place would likely cause some attention that he didn’t want, but then again he needed to just get the hell over himself once and for all. With that thought in mind, he walked across the street and knocked on Dakota’s door before he could talk himself out of it.

  He waited for a moment and then knocked again. With a frown, he noticed her car was in the driveway, and then knocked a little louder. “Dakota?” he called through the open window. After no response, he tried the door. To his annoyance, it was open, and so he walked inside. “Dakota?” he called, and put the bag in the refrigerator. When he straightened up and turned around she was standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

  “Trace?” Her voice was heavy with a just-woke-up huskiness that made him want to groan. She wore a big pink T-shirt that hit her midthigh, and God help him when he noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Whadaya doin’ here?”

  “Bringing you lunch. And for the record, I knocked and called your name several times. But you really should keep your door locked,” he told her firmly.

  “Evidently,” she said with a sleepy smile, but then frowned and tried to smooth her messy hair without any luck. “What time is it anyway?”

  Trace reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts and glanced down at his phone. “Two thirty.”

  “What?” She pushed her hair back from her eyes. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Are you just waking up, Princess?”

  Frowning, she blinked and then yawned. How she could make yawning sexy was beyond him, but she somehow managed. “I was up till almost dawn writing songs. Um, yeah, I just woke up. Well, I woke up around ten, groaned, but then fell back asleep. Wow, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

  “You need caffeine, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” She gave him another sleepy smile. “You’re an angel.”

  “Yeah, I get that all the time.”

  “I bet you do,” she commented with a low, husky laugh.

  “Coffee or Mountain Dew?”

  “Mountain Dew, if you have it.”

  He nodded and opened the fridge.

  She peeked over his shoulder. “Wow, you brought me stuff? You truly are an angel of mercy.”

  Trace nodded. “I could hear you singing, so I knew you were up late.” He cleared his throat as he popped the top and handed her the soft drink. “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought leftovers from the kitchen.”

  Dakota took a sip of the sweet fizzy drink and tried to hide the sudden unexpected emotion clogging her throat, but Trace seemed to sense her discomfort.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Sure.” She waved a dismissive hand in the air, but he was having none of it and took a step closer.

  “Seriously, what’s wrong? Did it have something to do with your phone call?”

  “No.”

  “What, then?”

  Dakota licked her lips and then looked up at him. “I know you understand that when you’re on top of the world, everyone wants to be your friend. When I was no longer the It Girl, that all dried up.” She gave him a small shrug. “No one has done anything thoughtful like this for a long time.”

  “Yeah, but there is a big difference.” Trace put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t have any ulterior motives here. I hope you know that.”

  “I do. And it makes your thoughtful gesture even better,” she said, and then put the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Wait, I just realized you said I kept you up with my singing! I’m so sorry! I should have known my voice would carry, but I guess I just got caught up in the process and didn’t think. You should have yelled at me to stop.”

  “I didn’t want you to stop,” Trace admitted, and gently pulled her hand from her forehead. “You kept me up for a while, but I found your voice relaxing. Soothing. Believe me, I didn’t mind.”

  “You’re just being nice.”

  “Nice?” Trace chuckled. “Yeah, I get that all the time too. Seriously, you have an amazing voice, Dakota. Pop princess, my ass. You’re very talented,” he said, and laughed softly. “I guess I could have put that differently… .”

  “Thank you,” she acknowledged shyly. “No, you got it right. Teen pop stars don’t get much respect and should be allowed to grow up and mature, but very few are allowed to make that transition.”

  �
��You deserve nothing but respect,” he said firmly. “And the song you were writing? I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

  “I worked on it a little more, but thanks. That’s the best compliment you could give me about a song,” she responded with a sincere smile. “I really appreciate your saying so. After so many years of being kicked around, it’s hard not to doubt myself.”

  “I understand,” Trace said, and drew her into his embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

  “Are you going to stay and eat with me?”

  He pulled back and took a step away so he could look at her. “Unfortunately, I have to pay for playing hooky. Too much work to do, but I’m going to take some of Sierra’s spaghetti and meatballs over to my place for later. Would you like to join me for a late supper? If you’re not too wrapped up in your songwriting, that is.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “Oh, and Dakota?”

  “Yes?”

  Trace cleared his throat and felt a little uneasy about asking her to Miranda’s wedding, but then told himself he was being a big-ass wimp and forged ahead. “Grady’s sister, Miranda, is getting married this Saturday. Would you like to go with me?”

  She seemed surprised, but smiled and nodded. “I’d love to! Is Grady taking Sierra?”

  “Yes.”

  Dakota clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! It will be fun. Just let me know the details.”

  “Good. I’ll call you later when I get finished with work,” he said, and turned to go. At the doorway, however, he paused and pivoted to face her. “By the way, your song wasn’t the only thing I couldn’t get out of my head,” he said quietly.

  Dakota’s eyes widened a fraction, and she put one hand to her chest. Then she gave him a smile that shot straight to his heart, and for a moment he was rooted to the spot, unable to take his eyes off of her. She stood there with her messy hair, bare feet, and without a stitch of makeup, and Trace didn’t think he had ever seen a sexier sight. He smiled back, something that was becoming second nature once again, and then turned to go before he simply had to stay.

  With a thudding heart and butterflies in her stomach, Dakota watched Trace walk away. Emotion, warm and velvety, washed over her, and she knew in that moment that she was falling in love with Trace Coleman. Of course, she realized she didn’t exactly have a lot of experience, having dated only sporadically, but even still, her heart seemed to have been waiting for this very moment, and somehow she just knew. She also knew—at least she thought she knew—that Trace felt the same way, even though she was sure he was fighting it.

  “Go ahead and fight it, Trace Coleman,” Dakota said to herself. “Give it your best shot, but you won’t win,” she added with a determined smile.

  Dakota stood there for a minute longer, savoring the soft yet giddy feeling that made her want to twirl in a circle. And so she did, but then lost her balance and had to grab hold of the kitchen counter. She laughed out loud, loving this silly, happy, and yet slightly frightening blend of emotions that made her want to do something loud and crazy.

  Love. The word swirled around in her brain and oozed downward, and she thought about twirling around again but didn’t risk it. Instead, she grabbed her Mountain Dew and headed to her bedroom for her guitar, knowing that creativity was going to go straight from her heart to her fingers.

  Evidently, falling in love with a big, bad, broody cowboy was quite an inspiration, because she didn’t stop to take a break until the pads of her fingertips became tender and raw. By the end of the week, Dakota wanted to have a half dozen songs to send to Vince Marruso, and at the rate she was going, it shouldn’t be a problem.

  Life, she decided, was finally looking up.

  23

  Hand in Hand

  The rest of the week flew by with Trace and Dakota developing a routine where she would write all day and he would bring dinner to her cabin, or she would join him at his. After dinner they would make long and lazy love, and then start the process over again the next day. She felt so relaxed and happy that the music just poured from her heart. The only exception was the evening when Dakota and Sierra went shopping for the wedding. They had chosen spaghetti-strapped sundresses, high-heeled sandals, and clutch purses to match.

  “Do you think my hair looks silly like this?” Sierra asked while scrutinizing her updo in the mirror. “Tell me the truth.”

  “No,” Dakota assured her. “It makes your neck appear longer and looks very sophisticated.”

  Sierra rolled her eyes. “That’s just it. I’m not sophisticated. What if Grady laughs?”

  “Then I’ll punch him in the nose.”

  “Yeah, right. You don’t even know how to punch.”

  “Then I’ll kick him in the shin,” Dakota said.

  “You’d break a toe in those silly-ass shoes.”

  “Sierra, you look amazing. Grady isn’t going to laugh. If anything, he’s going to trip over his own tongue.”

  Sierra inhaled a deep breath and looked down at her high-heeled shoes. “He’ll laugh when I fall and put another crack in my ass. How’d you talk me into these anyway?” she asked.

  “It was hours into our shopping excursion and you were so ready to leave that I could have talked you into combat boots. You were coming up with ways to kill me that would have stumped CSI.”

  “Oh, right. I had blocked it from my brain.”

  Dakota looked down at Sierra’s white sling-back sandals and her shiny red toenails, which they had painted earlier. “You aren’t going to fall. Look, we’re both short and we’re both with tall men. We had to have heels in order to dance.”

  Sierra leaned against the vanity and groaned. “I can’t dance! I’m going to be a total walking disaster. Just watch me fall into the cake! Or that pond they dug that’s full of big goldfish.”

  “Come on. Cowgirl up. Now take a good, hard look at yourself.”

  Sierra looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her smile trembled at the corners, but she nodded. “Not too shabby, I guess.” Then she swallowed hard. “If you make me cry, I’m gonna slap you silly,” she said, and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with some toilet paper. “Dakota, I know I suck at being nice and everything, but I have to tell you that I’m sure glad you moved here. It’s not far-fetched to say that you’ve changed my life.”

  Dakota felt tears well up in her own eyes. “And you’ve changed mine,” she said, but then felt a little flash of fear when the thought suddenly occurred to her that if all went well, she would most likely be moving to Nashville. She had been so wrapped up in her songwriting that she hadn’t really thought past getting it done. Wow, her heart thumped hard at the thought.

  Sierra put a hand on Dakota’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a spider.”

  “I am so over the whole spider thing.”

  “Really?”

  “Not really, but I’m fine.” She gave her a short, swift nod and then reached for her lip gloss. Not wanting to spoil the evening, she pushed the possibility of moving away from her mind, telling herself that she would cross that bridge if and when it happened. She glanced at her thin gold watch. “Trace should be here soon. You’re still meeting Grady at the wedding, right?”

  “Yes. He wanted to come over and pick me up, but I know he’s needed at the farm. He said Miranda was doing fine, but his mother was wigging out.”

  Dakota gave her a little nudge with her elbow. “You are going to knock Grady’s socks off,” she said.

  Sierra snorted. “More like step on his feet, but whatever.”

  Dakota looked at Sierra in the mirror and shook her head slowly. “He is so into you.”

  “Shut up.”

  “He is, and you know it.”

  She turned and looked at Dakota. “It’s hard for me to believe.”

  “Believe it.”

  Sierra smiled. “I’m trying,” she said, and then her eyes widened. “Ohmigod, but Dakota, you and Trace? That is such a love
story. If anyone had said he would be going to a big wedding, I wouldn’t have believed it. Have you noticed that he doesn’t limp so much or try to hide his scar with his hair? Amazing. It’s like he’s been transformed. You are so good for him. Oh, crap. I’m about to cry again!”

  “Let’s stop this mushy stuff and get our drink on,” Dakota said in her best Sierra imitation.

  “Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Woo hoo, girl, you are really starting to fit in here,” she said, and put her hand over her mouth when there was a knock at the door.

  Sierra peeked out the small bathroom window and turned to Dakota. “Grady is with Trace after all. Ohmigod, he looks amazing in his tux. And holy crap, Trace cut his hair! And shaved! Here, squeeze next to me.”

  “Wow, he sure did.” Dakota blinked at him in amazement. His hair was still on the long side, but trimmed up nicely. The five-o’clock shadow was gone, and the scar that always stood out before seemed to fade into his skin. The light blue summer suit brought out his eyes, accentuated his deep tan and made his shoulders appear even wider. “Hot damn,” Dakota whispered, drawing a low but decidedly nervous chuckle from Sierra as they ducked their heads so as not to be seen.

  Sierra took Dakota’s hand as they walked toward the front door, then suddenly stopped. “If I fall in these Sex and the City shoes, I’m gonna toss you into the pond with those big, ugly spotted fish.”

  “You won’t fall,” Dakota promised her. “Just don’t drink too much.”

  “Like that’s gonna happen,” she scoffed in her best kick-ass tone, but she gripped Dakota’s hand like a lifeline.

  Dakota gave Sierra’s hand a reassuring pat before opening the door. “Hi, guys. Come on in.”

  Trace stepped inside first, followed by Grady, who said, “You ladies look amazing.”

  “I sure hope so,” Sierra said. “Took all doggone day! I mean, really, this process started at the crack of dawn. We’re buffed, puffed, exfoliated, and tweezed literally starting from our toes to the hair on our head. Every inch on me is as smooth as a baby’s bottom. And dear lord, I’m givin’ y’all way too much information, aren’t I?”