Restless Heart (12 page)

“Hmmm . . .” He brought his forearm up to his nose and sniffed. “Peaches-and-cream bodywash,” he said with a grin. “I smell like a girl.”

“Well, you sure don’t look like one,” came out of Destiny’s mouth. Dangerous territory, but she couldn’t stop herself. Something sizzled between them, making her feel feminine and alive and daring—just as she had earlier, onstage.

“Thanks. Although I have to say that those little exploding beads I read about on the bottle made me tingle all over.”

That
pretty much stole coherent thought from her head, and she could only look him over from head to toe.

“What?” Seth asked with an amused frown. “Do I have a Q-tip sticking out of my ear or something?”

Oops. Embarrassed, she blurted the first thing that popped into her head. “No, but your barn door is open.”

“These sweatpants don’t even have a barn door.”

Oops again. “Gotcha!” She forced a laugh.

“What are you, twelve?”

“And holding. Just ask my father.”

Talk about an effective mood dampener.

“Destiny—” Seth came over to the couch, shaking his head. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

He sat beside her, and Mike settled at their feet.

“All I meant was that Daddy’s been waiting impatiently for me to come to my senses and finally become an adult. Maybe it’s about time I did.”

“You’re an adult. Look at you. Better yet, let me look at you.” It was his turn to let his gaze ride over her. “Yep—you’re all woman, all right.”

Unnerved, Destiny thrust a glass of sweet tea into his hand and turned the conversation back to her father, the buzz kill.

“I guess I should be grateful that Daddy raised Grace and me with the belief that you create your own luck and seal your own fate.”

“And yet he named you Destiny.”

She nodded. “In that you create your own. And Grace was named as a reminder that if we stray from our path in life, through divine grace we will find our way back.”

Seth reached over to put his glass back on the coffee table. Droplets of condensation fell onto a drowsy-looking Mike, but it didn’t faze him in the least.

Destiny smiled fondly at the little dog. “Too many nights sleeping in the rain.”

“But he’ll never have to be cold, wet, or hungry ever again, thanks to you.”

“You got that right. Truth be known, though, I needed him as much as he needed me.”

The warm concern shining in Seth’s deep brown eyes was so comforting that for a long moment Destiny simply sat there and soaked it up like a dry sponge. Life, she thought, would be so much easier with a soft place to land at the end of the day.

But that—
this
—wasn’t going to happen. Not for her. Not with him.

Resigned to the fact, she inhaled deeply.

“You know, you really do smell like a peach,” she heard herself say. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“You sure?” He opened his arms. “In that case, why don’t you come on over here.”

“Oh, I—” She slid away from him and crashed into the arm of the couch, rattling the end table.

The statue of Elvis immediately began swiveling his plastic hips and singing a high-pitched, “You Ain’t Nothin’ but a Hound Dog.”

Destiny rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of—”

Seth gave her a smug smile. “There’s a good way to make sure it doesn’t happen again, you know.”

“Really? What’s that?”

With a challenging glint in his eye, he wordlessly patted the cushion beside him.

“Oh, I don’t know . . . I kind of like this song,” she teased. “Don’t you?”

“Not this version. And the King is dead. But if you want to grab your guitar and give it a whirl . . .”

“No, thanks. I’m exhausted from all that singing.”

“Then come on over here”—he patted the cushion again—“and let me give you a good old-fashioned neck rub.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

She just shook her head, looking at him, unnerved by the challenge in his eyes.

“You know, I prefer friendly persuasion, but . . .”

Destiny shook her head. “Don’t you even . . .”

“Dare?” Seth grinned. “Hey, I know how you can’t refuse a dare, so that wouldn’t be fair of me, now, would it?”

“No, it certainly would not.”

He tilted his head. “Actually, I was thinking of leaving it up to fate.”

“Don’t you remember how I feel about fate, Seth?”

“So you’re still a nonbeliever?”

She nodded.

He slid toward her.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking
your
advice. You said you have to make things happen, not sit back and wait for them to happen, so . . .”

“You remember everything I said that evening?”

“Pretty much,” he responded with a soft smile. “In fact, seeing you flooded my brain with memories. I’ve missed you, Destiny.”

He reached out and pulled her into an embrace.

A warm little tingle slid down her spine and she closed her eyes to savor the moment. Hugging him close felt more than just wonderful . . . it was simply delicious. His wide shoulders stretched the soft cotton of his T-shirt and his muscles rippled beneath her fingers. She longed to slide her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, and when the sandpaper tickle of his five-o’clock shadow slid against her smooth cheek, it was all she could do not to nuzzle closer.

She pulled back to look at him and saw that his eyes were fixated on her mouth. Okay, so they were definitely on the same wavelength.

Destiny was no stranger to romance; she’d dated her share of men since she’d arrived in Nashville. She knew exactly where this was headed.

But this was
Seth
. The stakes had always been high where he was concerned. That hadn’t changed.

“It’s getting late,” she said, and faked a yawn.

“I know.”

“I really am wiped out.”

“I know that, too.”

She started to stand up; Seth put a hand on her shoulder.

She swallowed hard.

“Now how about that back rub?”

 

 

 

P
acing through his fishing cabin, John clutched his cell phone and thought about calling Sara for the millionth time since he’d left home yesterday—heck, probably the millionth time tonight.

He’d been trying not to think about her, but he couldn’t seem to help it. She should be here with him.

Although he had bought the property for fishing and hunting, Sara loved summers in this rustic setting, and would often accompany him on the weekends to read and needlepoint.

Not anymore. She’d lost interest in the cabin—or maybe just in him. Not only did the cabin look a mess without her tidy hand, but normally this time of year she would have flowerpots full of blooming annuals to bring a shot of color to the place.

Now it was all browns and grays, musty and quiet.

He shook his head, telling himself that it was too late to call. Still, he opened his contact folder and started scrolling with his thumb, finding some small measure of comfort at seeing her name.

Sara—home,
the entry read.

He didn’t really mean to follow through with a call, but his thumb seemed to have a life of its own. He pressed the dial button.

She answered right away, and the sound of her voice made John’s heart pound like it used to when they were kids dating. Now, as a grown man sitting in a remote cabin in his boxers with the phone to his ear, he couldn’t begin to find his voice.

“Hello? John?”

Damn caller ID! He couldn’t just hang up, but he didn’t know what to say.

“Hey, Sara. How’s it going?” He winced.

“Fine,” she responded shortly.

“Good.” John looked up at the shadowy ceiling and ran his fingers through his short cropped hair.

Met with stony silence, he cleared his throat. “Well, I was just checking.”

He longed to tell he her that he missed her,
loved her
, but his pride was in the way, and the words stuck in his throat.

“I talked to Grace about something. You should know . . .”

“What? Don’t tell me she changed her mind and got back together with that fool boyfriend of hers. The kid’s going nowhere.”

There was a long pause. Then Sara said, “That’s not what it was about.”

“Oh. Well, good,” he said gruffly.

“We talked about Destiny.”

His heart sank. “What about her?”

Again, Sara hesitated. “It seems she might be a little worse off than she led us to believe.”

“No surprise there,” John said immediately, and hated himself for it.

“You know what? Never mind. I don’t know why I even bothered to—”

“No, tell me what’s going on, Sara. I deserve to know. I’m her father.”

Sara said nothing to that. He could just imagine what she was thinking, and he wanted to tell her she had it all wrong. He was a good father. That was why he had to take a stand.

“Sara, tell me.”

“It’s nothing, really. Not that big a deal. She’s just . . . she’s a waitress.”

No surprise there. Relieved, John asked, “Well, what did you think she was? A rock star?”

“Not a rock star, John. Destiny isn’t into rock—she’s into country. And I thought she was making a living at it, but—”

“Who makes a living singing songs?”

“Plenty of people do, and if you believed in her, then you’d—”

“I believe in
her
. I just don’t believe in throwing away your life on a stubborn whim.”

“Oh, really?” Sara said in such a loaded tone that John had to clutch the phone to keep from tossing it across the room.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Sara said.

He shook his head.

“You just don’t get it, do you?”

“What don’t I get?”

“I think we should help her out.”

“I’ve tried. She doesn’t want my advice.”

“Not with advice. With money, maybe, so that she can—”

“Handing her money isn’t going to make her wake up and smell the coffee.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Look, I love my daughter,” John managed to spit out.
I love you, dammit.

“Then support her dream.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw and he gripped the phone tighter. “Don’t you see, Sara? That’s all it is. A dream! She needs to build a solid future. Dreams don’t pay bills,” he ground out. “Destiny needs to get her head out of the clouds and come down to reality!”

“Oh, really? If everyone felt that way, we wouldn’t have music or art. Theater. Movies. We wouldn’t have the pro sports that you love to watch, for that matter. We need dreamers, risk-takers.”

“You said yourself you’re upset that she’s waitressing. I don’t get why I’m the bad guy just because I—”

“No, I’m disappointed. It’s not that I don’t approve. I just wanted something better for her.”

“That’s the point! So do I. She’s my daughter, for Pete’s sake!”

“
Our
daughter! And do you think this isn’t a sacrifice for
her
? Leaving her friends and family? Living alone? Waiting tables? She’s doing what she has to do to make her dream come true.”

“She’s wasting her life away, Sara!”

“You don’t know that!” she said fiercely. “What she
will
be wasting if she doesn’t give this a shot is her talent.” He heard her inhale a deep breath while she waited for his response. “What I’m wasting is
my
time trying to reason with you. Talk sense into that thick, stubborn head of yours and get you to see that Destiny needs us.”

“This isn’t about money—not about my money—
our
money,” he quickly amended. “It’s about—”

“Good-bye, John.” She cut him off in such a firm tone that a cold shot of fear slid down his spine.

And then the line went dead.

John muttered a harsh oath and stood there for God knew how long, gripping the phone, staring into the silent, shadowed darkness.

 

 

 

Seth held his breath, expecting Destiny to bolt off the couch and order him out of her apartment.

To his shock, she turned around and presented him with her back.

His hands were shaking as he eased her hair out of the way to expose her shoulders. Beneath the thin cotton of her shirt, he could feel the firm muscles that reminded him that she was strong in body, mind, and spirit. And yet the delicate arch of her neck gave her a sweet vulnerability. Seth longed to lean in and kiss her there, but concentrated on massaging away her tension and easing past her fear.

“Just try to relax,” he said in her ear.

“I am.”

Her curls brushed across his hands, and he became acutely aware of her soft skin and her light floral scent.

It felt so good, so natural to be here with her like this that Seth wondered how he was going to return to Wilmot and resume his life without her.

He leaned in and kissed her neck. “That feels nice,” she murmured, and he knew that they’d reached the point of no return.

He could play it safe and leave right now—or he could throw caution to the wind and kiss her again.

Her own words ran through his brain, and his mind was made up.

Gently, Seth cupped her chin to turn her face toward him, and kissed her.

 

 

 

T
en days later, Destiny found herself in the boardroom at Sundial Records, thighs pressed together beneath the gleaming mahogany table to keep her knees from knocking.

“You’re about to get some serious writer’s cramp,” Nick Novell commented as he slid a sleek silver pen over to Destiny. “But I think it’ll be worth it, don’t you?”