Finding the Dream (For the Love of Music #1.5) (16 page)

“Chris is fine,” he said as if it were no big deal that
Christian Meyer
had just been like,
Call me by my nickname. It’s all good.

Whose life was he living?

“I guess this is pretty last minute, which means that either Max or Dave, Lita’s tour manager, didn’t plan on having someone else along, or someone backed out.”
Chris
shrugged as if none of that were important. And to him, they probably weren’t.

“So… Why are you here?” Donovan asked realizing too late it might have been a rude way to ask. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like an ass. I’m thrilled you’re here. Really. This is… I’m just… I’m making an ass out of myself.”

Chris smiled again. One that felt…meaningful somehow.

“Short notice because we leave in a couple weeks for three months. We want you to come. Be opening maybe? I don’t know. That’s for Max to figure out. Or Dave. Or whoever.”

Christian Meyer was asking Donovan to go on
tour
with him? He blinked a few times. Glanced at Sierra who beamed.

Dream of dreams was being handed to him, but... “I run this store…”

And the ability to do music in small steps had just been ripped from him.

“With my brother who can come home,” Sierra finished. “We’ll figure it out.”

Donovan looked over at the woman he was falling for. Three months away from her? Now? “I… I wanna give you a definite yes, but you know I have…stuff… A store I co-own, and…”
A girl I’m not sure I want to leave
making him realize he was maybe past the point of moving in small steps toward Sierra.

“Hey.” Chris leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You figure it out. Someone will be in touch shortly. I think our girls have each other’s numbers, and I’ll have Corinne forward my cell on to you and Max’s as well. Call anytime, and we’ll sort through details.”

“Max.” Recognition hit Donovan. “Manager of Kincaid.”

“Used to be.” Chris wagged his brows. “Until he followed me. Anyway. You think on it. I hope you say yes, but if not, no hard feelings. I get it. This is stupidly short notice.”

“Why me?” Donovan blurted.

Christian shrugged. “I’m not totally positive. I think Max is incredibly good at finding new talent, so he heard you play or heard of you from somewhere. The fact that we’re both from Oregon might have something to do with it. Either way, I’d be glad to have you along.”

“Thank you.” Donovan jumped to standing just as Chris and Corinne did. “Really. Seriously. I’m glad you came. I can’t believe you’d let me be on a stage near you…”

Chris laughed and grasped Donovan’s hand. “You worked that crowd like a pro. Exactly the kind of guy we like to see go on first. We’re all going unplugged, and I want it to sound as unrehearsed as possible.”

Donovan glanced toward Sierra whose smile split her face. This. She’d been with him for this, and it felt significant. Perfect.

“I will be in touch Christian Meyer.”

“And I look forward to it.”

With that, the two people left the way they came, and Donovan went weak as the adrenaline rushed from his system.

Sierra clobbered him from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You did it, Van. This is so great. I promise I will do whatever I can to make this happen.”

But he had so little time to get ready, and now he not only needed to talk to Hanson about his little sister, but about the shop as well.

So much for small steps.

Nineteen

“I’m still freaking out.” Sierra pressed a hand over her heart as they drove through the dark. They’d reach the Oregon coast soon, and the fact that it was nearly one am didn’t even register.

“I’m still freaking out, too.” Donovan shook his head. “I can’t even conceive of how they heard of me, you know?”

“Good music. Hot guy. Reputation for putting on a great show…” Sierra trailed off, trying to read his features in the dashboard lights.
I tweeted and Facebooked and blogged the crap out of this.
Not that Sierra thought Max had found her online and followed her to Donovan or anything, but the publicity had to have helped.

He readjusted his hand on the steering wheel. “It doesn’t feel possible.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t get why.”

“I have a life, you know? A business to run…” This thumb moved over the back of her hand. “This.”

This.

Goose bumps broke out across her skin. “I sent another email to try and get in touch with Hanson. This is important. He can come home.”

Donovan pursed his lips, and Sierra knew that tracking down her brother would be left to her and maybe to her parents. Donovan would never ask him to come back.

“He was nice, huh? Christian Meyer?” Donovan’s fingers tightened around hers.

“Yeah. And so was she.” They’d both said these things before, but everything that hummed between them was too deep or too much to talk about after their night. Donovan’s life could totally change from this moment. They both knew it. And Sierra’s biggest fear was that he wouldn’t even try to move forward with his music because it would mean letting her brother down.

“I don’t even know when I stopped playing,” Donovan said quietly. “I know that the first year we ran the store, I used to play in the store every time it got quiet. I wrote songs at night, in the morning, in the office when I should have been doing other things.”

She held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

“For a while I got frustrated with the store. Hated it. And then I realized I was making more money than I ever had, and I wanted that happy life I didn’t have growing up. Suddenly I realized the store was my sure way to that. Or a more sure way. Music faded out when I wasn’t trying to do both anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“If it hadn’t been for you… I’m not sure I would have found my way back at all. No matter how tonight goes, I’m not going to stop playing, so thank you.”

“I didn’t—” she started.

Donovan tightened his hand. “You did.”

Sierra stared at his face highlighted in the odd shade of green from the dashboard lights.

“We’re going to take this side road, so trust me, okay?” he asked as he smiled at her.

Her chest fluttered as at he looked at her—smiling wide, eyes sparkling, and… yeah… This wasn’t how Donovan looked at her in real life. This was the reaction of the guy she’d spent too much time daydreaming about.

“I want this to be real,” she said quietly.

The van lurched a few times as the small road turned more trail like.

“Which part?” Donovan chuckled.

“The ‘us’ part.”

The van finally halted and Donovan kept her hand as he loosened his seatbelt and turned to face her. “You can’t know how glad I am you were there. That you were…” He glanced down. “I’m shit at this. But I’m glad you were there tonight. You’d have been missing if you hadn’t made it.”

“Me, too.”

And maybe for the first time all night, Sierra took a long, slow breath. And yawned.

“Chuck’s gonna be so pissed.” Donovan snorted.

Sierra grinned. Yep. Chuck for sure was. He’d been at some family function.

“Tomorrow’s
Friday
,” Donovan said. “Let’s walk the beach in the morning and just crash, okay?”

Crash. With Donovan.

“You’re blushing.” He touched her cheek.

She batted his hand away. “Ignore me.”

“Want me to pop the top up so you can have your own bed? It takes two minutes, maybe less.”

How was being with him so easy the night he came home drunk, and… In that moment, she was afraid to say she wanted to sleep in the wide bed that took up the whole back of the van. But that’s what growing up was all about, right? Figuring out what she wanted and then figuring out how to ask for it.

She opened her mouth to say yes, but just smiled instead.

Donovan sat in the van, faced with two things he wanted so badly, his body ached for them in totally different ways. To follow Christian Meyer around the world, and the girl sitting next to him.

“Are there bathrooms here?” Sierra asked instead of answering his question about the bed.

He dropped her hand, and dug in his pack for a flashlight. “I’ll walk you.”

Pushing out of the van into the darkness, he took a long, deep breath in—salty, damp air and everything that reminded him of home.

“Whoa.” Sierra had paused next to the car and stared out at the ocean. “This is… This is perfect.”

All he wanted was to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Hold her. Have her smile at their nearness. That part of him was winning out over the part that knew
he wanted to talk to her brother and then her dad first.

Their arms brushed as they started to walk together.

“Ladies first.” He gestured to the door of the campground bathroom and held out his flashlight for her. “Don’t drop it.”

“Ha, ha.” Sierra rolled her eyes, and something about the eye roll and the way she spun away from him, again echoed the little girl she used to be. Those little reminders were less weird than they used to be—instead of being reminders of her father and brother and how he
should
feel about her, they were reminders that he
knew
her. Once they got past this weird phase they were in, she’d be the easiest woman in the world to live with. To be with.

“Your turn.” The flashlight was dropped in his hand and he stared at it for a moment before stepping into the smelly stall.

“Don’t leave me alone in the dark!” he teased, loving the sound of her laugh.

How many camping trips had they done with her parents? Memories blended in with the present, and that too, was something he was getting used to.

When they started walking back toward the van together, he realized he’d never taken another girl camping with him before. That was his solo time. Or his time with the guys.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said as he slid open the door of the van. “Why don’t you get changed and then I’ll come in.”

She stepped inside and then turned to face him. “You’ve seen it all before.”

He grinned. “I thought we were going to pretend that didn’t happen?”

“Kind of hard when I keep thinking about it.”

Yes. Yes it was. He stepped in behind her, slid the door closed, and pulled the lock. Sierra was already sliding the curtains closed around the windows and then she sat on the bed, slid off her jeans and blouse, leaving her in a tank and panties.

Almost naked. In his van.

Dammit, he had to talk to Hanson, and soon.

He sat and stared as she did that weird twisty arms-under-the-shirt thing before her bra was set on top of the other clothes.

“The…” He coughed. “The blankets and sheets are washed from my last trip, so…”

Sierra laughed again as she slid into bed. “And what would we have done if they hadn’t been?”

Her head fell onto the pillow, and he imagined night after night where he could see her get ready for bed. Be next to her when she woke up messy haired and disoriented.

“Don’t you check your email before bed, or your twitter fish or…”

“Usually, yeah.” She rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. “Usually I’m on my laptop for a while, and then I move down to my iPad, and then I turn off the light and lay my head on my pillow.“

“And then you crash?”

“No.” She shook her head seriously. “Then I pull out my phone and do one last quick check of email, twitter notifications, and Facebook messages.”

“Sounds like an obsession,” he teased.

“Aren’t you still freaking out? You were just asked by Christian Meyer to sing with him. To perform with him. You should be freaking out.”

He shoved off his boots and his leather jacket. He paused before jerking his jeans to the floor. She’d seen him in a t-shirt and boxers a dozen times before. Maybe more. His stomach tightened in nerves but he lay down next to her on his back.

Her watchful eyes didn’t stray from his face. “Are you going to answer?”

How could he?

Donovan stared at her smooth lips, bright eyes, soft hair… Felt the energy of her both calming him and amping his body for whatever might happen next.

“I feel…”

She scooted closer, still on her elbows, looking down on him.

“I feel like I’m being shown two things that I want more than anything else, but that I really shouldn’t want.”

“My brother is gone more than he’s home, Donovan. Ask him to come back so you can leave.”

“Yeah…” Donovan trailed off unsure if he had it in him. Hanson had saved him from who the hell knows what in high school. Their parents had helped him through college… Hanson and he had put together the plan for the store, and it was working. Making them money.
“I’ve been trying to reach him, but I haven’t heard anything in…in quite a while.”

Sierra’s hand rested on his shoulder, and the slight pressure ricocheted through his body. “Donovan. Be selfish. I have never, in my life, seen you do one selfish thing.
Please
don’t let this chance pass you by.
Please.
”

All he could think about was her. The sweet smell of her. The warmth of her. The excited energy of her. He watched his hand move toward her face, cupping her cheek. Everything inside him pooled into warmth as he pulled Sierra toward him.

Her mouth met his, and nothing mattered. The warmth of the van and of Sierra and their bodies now pressed together as he kissed her again and again. In minutes their legs were tangled together and her fingers dug into his back, holding him close.

Everything in him pulled toward the woman in his arms, and at the same time, holding her…feeling her mouth eager and pressed against his, felt like the most natural thing in the world. His heart molded and shifted and he broke their kiss, sliding his hands up to hold her face and keep her close.

Sierra touched her nose to his, her perfect smile easing all the things warring in his head.

“This is enough,” he whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“Of the two things, if I get this, it’s enough,” he whispered.

“You deserve everything, Van.” Sierra’s arm tightened around his waist. “Never forget that.”

He rolled onto his back, pulling Sierra with him and kissing her head as she rested on his chest. In that moment, he wanted her in on everything about him. Wanted her to love him because of those things—even the dark ones. It was a terrifying thing to want, leaving him raw and exposed but hopeful.

Sierra’s breathing slowed the longer he held her, and his own eyes began to drift closed. This was enough. She was enough.
He wouldn’t ask Hanson for both.

Sierra held Donovan’s guitar as they sat on an old log, determined to learn
something.
The waves slid up the beach and the ocean had a deep emerald look to it—tinged with grey from the rainy day and reminding her of countless visits to the Oregon coast. Her eyes flitted back to the neck of the guitar.

“So E chord is like this?” She pressed her aching fingers down on the strings and Van laughed.

She loved his laugh—vibrating and infectious. “Not quite.”

He reached around her, carefully placing her fingers on the strings.

“I did that one wrong on purpose,” she whispered.

His lips pressed against her skin, just under her ear. “Okay.”

“This is E.” She pressed down on the strings again and raked the pick over the strings in an uncoordinated strum.

“How are the fingers?” he asked as he lifted them from the neck of the guitar.

“Sore.”

He lifted the guitar and slipped it back in the case before wrapping his arm around her again.

“There is nothing like a campfire on the beach.”

Sierra grinned. “Unless it’s raining.”

“This is barely rain,” he protested. “You’re from Oregon. Toughen up.”

She bumped his shoulder with hers, and he leaned over giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

This was never going to get old.

Sierra’s phone rang in her pocket and Donovan sat back, giving her space to answer. She was undecided if anyone was worth the interruption.

The number on the screen flashed UNKNOWN.