Restless Heart (31 page)

 

 

 

S
ara sat curled up on her sofa listening to Destiny on the radio, though what she really wanted to do was run outside and shout, “Hey, everybody, that’s my daughter, you know!”

No—what she really wanted more than anything was to have John at her side for yet another amazing moment he was missing.

Sara whacked the cushion so hard that a plump pillow flopped to the floor. Of course, if John’s sorry butt walked through the door right this minute she just might have to thump him the same way. Valentine’s Day, and he’d spent most of it in the garage tinkering on his car before driving off in it.

When the song ended, Sara leaned sideways and rested her wet cheek against the cushion. Even if Destiny weren’t her daughter, “Restless Heart” would have moved her to tears. Of course, lately she had been crying at greeting card commercials, she thought with a tired sigh.

Sleep had been eluding her and she suddenly felt happy for Destiny but emotionally and physically drained. With a yawn she decided to close her eyes for just a few minutes.

 

 

 

F
eeling hollow inside, Destiny waved and smiled at the throng as Grace pulled her along toward the front entrance, but didn’t realize that she was trembling until she was safely in the employee dressing room and alone with her sister.

“Wow,” she said, exhaling at last. “Grace, I can’t believe all those people.”

“They aren’t just
people
, Destiny,” Grace reminded her. She leaned forward and put her hand on Destiny’s shoulder. “Those were your
fans
. You’re allowed to call them that, you know.”

“It just seems . . . crazy.”

“Why? Destiny, your single is on the radio, you’ve been on every station doing promos, Sundial Records has a big banner bragging about you outside of their studio, for goodness’ sake, and your pretty face is plastered on the side of metro buses.”

“I know, I know . . . it’s all crazy.” She looked down.

“What is it?” Grace asked gently.

Destiny shrugged. “It’s just . . . the crowd just blew me away.”

“No, it isn’t.”

She looked up at her sister in surprise.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, and you haven’t heard from Seth in over six weeks. That’s what it is.”

Destiny shrugged. “I guess maybe I thought he’d send me a card, or call, or . . . something.”

“You didn’t do anything about it, either.”

“But the ball’s in his court, remember? It’s up to him to get in touch.”

“I didn’t realize there was a rule book.”

“Grace—”

She broke off, hearing a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called, expecting Amy or Miranda, but it was Ralph Weston who walked into the room.

“I’m going to run out and say hello to Max,” Grace said quickly, and disappeared.

Destiny’s eyes widened when Ralph presented her with a dozen deep red roses.

“Why, thank you—that’s so sweet of you!”

“Yeah, well . . . everyone knows I’m a sweet guy.” Ralph winked at her. “I just wanted to thank you so much, Destiny. I wasn’t always fair to you.” His bushy eyebrows came together and he rubbed his beard. “I let my ego get in the way of my good sense and yet you never batted an eye.”

“Oh . . . don’t be so sure about that,” she teased.

“You taught this old dog a lesson and I have to say that I’ve missed you around here something fierce.” He chuckled and added, “I don’t just mean the loss in customers, although that certainly sucks, but I miss your energy, your smile, and most of all the pleasure of listening to your amazing voice. And I have to admit that I even miss that little chatterbox sister of yours, too. The best of luck to you both.”

“Thanks. It means a lot.”

“You know, I’ve been around this town a long time and my gut tells me you’re going to go far in this business. You’ve already taken off like a rocket and the crowd eats you up, Destiny. You’re gonna have to send an eight-by-ten glossy for my wall of fame.”

Destiny smiled. “I’m flattered.”

“Remember to stop by and have a burger once in a while—ya hear me? And forgive me for not recognizing what I had in you earlier.”

“Hey,” she offered softly, “no hard feelings. Mandy was a manipulator. Forget about all of that.”

“That’s no excuse. I should have owned up to my behavior a long time ago. Ahhh, I’m just an old fool.”

Destiny was floored when Ralph’s eyes misted over. She’d always assumed he didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body, but now the tip of his nose turned pink and he had to clear his throat repeatedly.

“None of us are without fault, Mr. Weston. But hey, the fact remains that you gave me my first real start. Thank you.”

“You betcha. Well, I’d better get out of your hair so you can get out there onstage.” He grinned. “Now don’t you go forgettin’ about us little folks when you’re on top, okay?”

“First I have to make it to the top,” Destiny replied with a chuckle and gave him a quick hug. “But don’t you worry. I will
never
forget who my true friends are. Besides, you have the best burgers on the planet. It’s what brought Nick Novell here, so you had a hand in my career in more ways than one.”

“You know it! But all luck aside, your talent is what got you here, and they sure are excited out there. If I let one more person in, I’ll have the fire department all over me. Now get on out there and rock the house!” he tried to say in his regular Ralph tone but couldn’t quite pull it off.

After he left, Destiny opened her locker for what she knew was the last time at Back in the Saddle, and was hit with an unexpected pull of emotion.

This had been her home away from home for well over four years and she realized that in an odd way she was going to miss it.

Destiny took a deep breath and peered at her reflection. Her hair was big but her curls were tamed into temporary submission with glitter-infused hair spray. Drama was added with liquid eyeliner and false eyelashes that she had been talked into and now prayed would stay on. Tonight her jeans and button-up shirt were black. Silver glinted at her wrists and earlobes, and strappy high-heeled sandals revealed her shiny red-polished toenails.

Struck by an odd shot of fear at the realization that she didn’t look like herself, she put a hand to her chest. She still felt like the girl in cutoffs and a T-shirt sitting on the back fire escape strumming her Gibson guitar while scribbling down lyrics. Now that the dream was becoming a reality, she didn’t want to lose that girl.

But maybe she already had.

She took her cell phone from her pocket and tucked it into her locker, then closed the door and headed out to give her fans what they were waiting for.

 

 

 

S
eth held the phone poised in his hand just as he had countless times since Christmas—only this time, he was determined to follow through.

Holding his breath, he dialed the familiar number.

The phone rang . . . and rang . . . and rang . . .

“Hi. You’ve reached Destiny. Leave me a message!”

No . . . he couldn’t do that.

He didn’t even know what he wanted to say to her exactly—but he did know that he couldn’t say it into a voice mailbox.

Shaking his head, Seth hung up the phone.

After a long pause, he made up his mind and placed another call. This one was answered immediately, almost breathlessly.

“Hi, Tracy. I . . .”

He was going to tell her he’d changed his mind about tonight. That was why he’d called.

But he was having trouble finding the words, suddenly unable to ignore the image of Destiny that had popped into his head. Destiny in Nashville, surrounded by fans and photographers, laughing with Brody Ballard . . .

Destiny, with a single on the radio and a career that was about to take off . . .

“Tracy . . . about tonight . . .”

“I’m really looking forward to it!” she said as he fumbled for the right way to phrase it.

“I . . . I am too, but . . . I just . . . you know I’m, uh . . .”

“Taken? Because I thought you said—”

“No, I did, but . . . it’s just . . .”

“Hey, it doesn’t have to be a date, you know. We can just . . . paint.”

“Tracy, if you come over here tonight, it won’t just be about painting,” he told her honestly. “I like you a lot, but . . .”

“But not that way?”

“Yes, that way.”

“Really?” She sounded shocked . . . and hopeful.“What about . . . ?”

“She and I are . . . we’re still . . . we’re not . . .” Oh, hell, he didn’t know what was going on with Destiny.

Nothing. Nothing is going on. You can’t even get her on the phone; you haven’t spoken to her in weeks
.

“Never mind,” he told Tracy. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“S
ara?”

“Mmmm?” Sara snuggled deeper into the pillow. “Yes?” She loved it when John whispered into her ear. In a minute he’d put his arm around her and snuggle closer and then maybe kiss her neck . . .

Sara sighed.

“Sara?”

Wait a minute.
“What?” Still thinking she was in bed, Sara sat up quickly and put her hand sideways for support but came up with air instead of mattress and tumbled to the floor with a yelp, followed by a solid thump.

“Ouch! That’s gonna leave a mark,” she grumbled and covered her face with her forearm as Mike came barking and running.

“Sara!” John shouted and knelt down beside her. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” He pulled her arm back to get a better look at her flaming face, and Mike licked her cheeks.

“Sweetheart?” she said in a low tone. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She glared up at him, doing her best not to soften when she saw the real concern on his face—and the bouquet of red roses in his hand.

“It’s okay, Mike,” she told the dog. “I’m okay. Go lie down.”

The dog trotted away obediently.

“I’m fine,” she answered tightly but couldn’t quite keep a bit of breathlessness out of her voice.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound fine.” A lock of dark hair fell over John’s forehead. The dark stubble shadowing his cheeks made him look so much like the bad boy she had once loved that she had a difficult time not grabbing him and pulling him down for a passionate kiss.

“I just got the wind knocked out of me when you made me fall,” she told him.

“I didn’t
make
you fall,” he said defensively. He set aside the roses and offered his hand, but she nudged it away. Mike lifted his head, watching warily.

“You made me fall when you snuck up on me.”

“I said your name twice. You never even responded.”

“I was
asleep
.”

“Here,” he said softly and extended his hand again. “I’m really sorry.”

Sara answered with another glare, but John slid his hands beneath her and scooped her up into his arms.

“Put me—” she cried, but her protest was smothered with a long, hot kiss. The kind of kiss she had been craving . . . dreaming about for months.

“What are you doing?” she asked when he broke off.

“Kissing my valentine.”

He dipped his mouth again, and his beard felt rough and masculine against her soft cheek. In spite of herself, she reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair. It hadn’t been this long since high school.

John responded with a groan and deepened the sweet but oh-so-sexy kiss that curled her bare toes. Desire for her husband uncurled in her stomach and spread like warm honey in her veins, dissolving the last shred of her resistance.

When John finally came up for air, his amazing blue eyes were filled with unshed tears. “Ah, Sara, you’re so beautiful.”

He looked as if he was about to tell her something else, but then lowered his gaze.

“What?” she gently prodded and ran a fingertip down his cheek.

His dark brows came together, but he didn’t look up. “If I admit something to you, will you promise not to get angry? Or laugh?”

“I’ll try . . .” she offered, but in her experience anything prefaced with either of those requests resulted in failure. Still, he seemed so serious that Sara gave him a reassuring nod to continue, praying she could hold her emotions in check—which, unfortunately, was not her strong suit.

John cleared his throat and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“We’ve been married a long time, John. It’s safe to say that you can tell me anything.”

“I know.” He inhaled a deep breath. “It’s just . . . I was always so afraid when I was gone for months on end that someone would swoop down and take my place.” He paused before admitting, “I asked you to dress like a military wife, but in truth my goal was to have you play down your looks.”

“Oh, John . . . how could you think that I would ever even glance at another man?”