Restless Heart (5 page)

“No way.” Holden extended his palm across the table. “If that’s true, then hand it over.”

“Hand over what?”

“Your man-card.” Holden wiggled his fingers. “Cough it up.”

Seth folded his arms across his chest, trying to appear coachlike. Although he was only six or seven years older than these guys, he needed to remind them that he was in charge. “Maybe it takes a real man to be able to be friends with a girl.”

“Yeah, and maybe you’ll be wearin’ a fanny pouch pretty soon.”

“Listen, I could take all of you with one hand tied behind my back and that bartender included,” he boasted in a tone tough enough to keep his man-card intact, even though they all knew he was kidding. “And don’t forget it.”

Holden pulled back and raised both hands in the air. “Hey, I believe you, Coach.”

“Good.” He snuck another peek at Destiny, glad he’d driven his own car to the tournament instead of squeezing onto the team bus. “Listen, you guys head on out to the bus with Coach Tanner and the rest of the team. You’ve got to get back to the motel and rest up for tomorrow. I’m going to stick around here to . . . settle up the bill.”

 

 

 

“M
andy needs a slice of lemon in her sweet tea,” Ralph urgently informed Destiny. “I thought I told you that.”

“There’s lemon in it.”

“It’s a wedge. She needs a slice.”

“I’ll get right on it.” She forced the words past a clenched jaw, holding back what she really wanted to say to him.

Your day will come
, she promised herself as she returned to the bar yet again.

Dwelling on her disappointment would get her nowhere.

Nothing to do but go about her business just like she always did...

Except that tonight it was more difficult to keep her chin up.

She refused to rubberneck in Seth’s direction, but couldn’t help wondering whether he’d been watching her wait tables.

Still, she was a little self-conscious scooping up tip money now that Seth was a teacher and coach, doing exactly what he’d always wanted to do.

She still couldn’t believe that he’d happened to wander in here, of all places—much less that she’d tripped and dropped into his arms.

“Long time no see.” Max Walker, the big bear of a bartender, flashed his easy grin.

“Mandy needs another sweet tea, with a slice of lemon, not a wedge. Can you hook me up?”

“You bet, sugar,” he said with the affection of a longtime pal.

Destiny and Max had cleaned up and closed the place many a night, singing together while using broom handles as microphones. Max could rock the house or sing a surprisingly tender love song—as long as no one else was listening. Put him in front of an audience, though, and he froze.

It was a crying shame, Destiny thought, that someone like Max was stuck behind the bar, while the stage was occupied by someone like . . .

She winced, listening to Mandy’s painfully high-pitched rendition of “How Do I Live Without You.”

“God love her,” she said with a shake of her head.

“You’re much better than she ever thought of being.” Max leaned across the bar and put his big hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you give up, you hear me?”

“Never,” Destiny said with more conviction than she felt at the moment, and gave Max a grateful smile.

As she carried Mandy’s drink back to the stage, she allowed herself to look over at Seth’s table. Her heart sank when she saw that he’d been replaced by a boisterous family group.

So he’d left without saying good-bye.

An eye for an eye, she thought wryly. Still, four years was a heck of a long time to wait to get even.

P
acing the sidewalk with his phone pressed to his ear, dutifully giving Dean Reynolds a play-by-play recap of the game, Seth wished he’d succeeded in flagging down Destiny before he’d stepped out to answer the call.

He’d tried, but she seemed to be avoiding him. Or maybe he was reading too much into it. After all, the place was busy and her boss had her hopping, waiting on tables and on Mandy Mason.

That, in particular, bothered Seth. Why was that flimsy little blonde up there onstage instead of Destiny? She was nowhere near as talented. Not that he’d heard his old friend sing since the night she’d won the Kentucky Idol contest, but even back then, he’d been blown away by her gutsy performance of “America the Beautiful.”

He had wanted to kick Cooper’s butt for goading her into it—at first because he knew Destiny didn’t want to do it. Then because she did it—and well.

Her voice was truly amazing, clear as a bell and straight from the heart. He’d been a ballplayer, not a musician, but even he recognized that she had that special something.

If it hadn’t been for Cooper and his dare, things might have turned out very differently for her . . .

Yeah. There might have actually
been
an “us.”

But Seth had realized that night—probably even before she did—that Destiny was going to move on. Away. Away from Wilmot, and from him.

Sure enough, she’d won the contest and gone on to place in the national competition. Overnight, she discovered a burning desire to make it in Nashville. Seth had tried to convince himself that he wanted only the best for her, but that wasn’t quite right. No, he’d simply
wanted
her, had been wanting her all that summer, ever since he’d returned from his sophomore year at college to find that the girl next door had grown up.

He happened to be in between girlfriends at the time—and though there was no shortage of old flames around town, he found himself surprisingly reluctant to reignite them.

He only wanted Destiny. He just couldn’t figure out how to make the move that would take their relationship to another level. Slow and steady—that was Seth.

Destiny was just the opposite.

If he’d ever doubted that, she proved it when she left without a backward glance. He’d convinced himself that he was better off without her in his life. It could never work between them. He’d come to realize he was a hometown boy. She didn’t want an anchor; she wanted wings.

But...

Something wasn’t right. Back home, whenever he ran into her sister, or Annie, or Cooper, they all talked about how well she was doing in Nashville—yet here she was, waiting tables.

Seth couldn’t help but wonder if there might be hope after all. Hope for an “us.”

When his team had unexpectedly landed in the Nashville tournament, he’d thought maybe it was a sign. He’d hoped to find that she was ready to give up this crazy lifestyle and come back home to Wilmot and her family . . . and perhaps even to
him
.

But he could tell that wasn’t going to happen. She might be waiting tables, but she had some fight left in her.

A telltale warning beep in his ear dragged his attention back to the conversation, and he realized his cell battery was on its last bar.

“Listen, Coach,” he said abruptly, “my phone’s about to die here, so . . .”

“All right, son. Congratulations on the win. You’re doing a good job with the kids.”

“Thanks to you. You’re the one who laid the groundwork,” Seth answered as the phone beeped again. “These guys know the fundamentals—just like you taught me.”

Back inside the bar and grill, the dinner crowd had thinned. Seth scanned the room, but Destiny was nowhere to be found. Had she left without saying good-bye?

All right, maybe he hadn’t made things easy on her when she confessed her dreams to him on that long-ago night. But he had his reasons—reasons that weren’t all selfish.

Everyone knew show business was tough. Maybe he just wanted to spare her the anguish. Maybe he didn’t want to see her suffering, all alone, so far from home. And him.

Yeah, that was unselfish, all right.

I should go
, he decided, taking one last look around the room. His gaze fell on the big bartender, who was drying a glass now that business had slowed down.

It couldn’t hurt to ask. He walked over to the bar. “Excuse me, but could you tell me where Destiny Hart went? Is she on a break?”

“She only had the dinner shift tonight.”

“So she went home?”

“Don’t know.”

Okay, this was getting him nowhere. Seth extended his hand. “Seth Caldwell. I’m an old high school friend of Destiny’s.”

“Max Walker.” The guy set down the glass and shook Seth’s hand firmly but briefly.

“The souvenir shop that Destiny lives above is about two blocks south of here, right?” Seth jammed his thumb over his shoulder and waited.

“Look”—Max vigorously wiped down the bar—“I’m not at liberty to tell you where Destiny lives. If you know her so well, then give her a call.”

“Right.” Seth couldn’t fault the guy for not giving out any personal information. In fact, he was partly relieved that Destiny had this big dude looking out for her—and partly jealous. He fervently hoped they were just coworkers and friends but didn’t have the nerve to ask. All he said in parting was, “Thanks.”

“Sure, man,” Max replied, and there was still an edge in his tone.

Outside, the sultry summer air carried the scent of restaurant food and car exhaust. Music filtered onto the street from various nightspots and the sidewalk was crowded with groups of laughing people out to have a night on the town in Nashville.

Seth flipped open his phone, intending to take Max’s advice. He’d gotten Destiny’s number—and her address, too—from Annie, a while back . . . a
looooong
while back. Way before he’d ever realized he might actually find himself in Nashville.

The phone went dead, though, as he dialed the second number. “Well, that’s just great.” He flipped the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket.

Now what?

Right. He’d done his homework, getting in touch with her sister, Grace, right before he left Wilmot last night, to make sure he knew where to find Destiny.

“You’re going to visit her?” Grace asked in surprise.

“Well, I’m going to be in Nashville anyway, so I thought . . .”

“Are you going to call her and let her know you’re coming?”

“No, because I might not have the chance to get there after all, so . . .”

And besides, I might chicken out
, he’d thought at the time.

But he hadn’t. He’d even used the team’s eleventh-inning win as an excuse to treat them to dinner at Back in the Saddle Bar and Grille in hopes of hearing her sing.

So far, so good.

He knew her apartment was only two blocks away. Might as well leave his car in the public lot. It was a nice night for a stroll.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, neon lights flickered and popped on to create a festive, charged atmosphere.

Seth took it all in, noting that the neighborhood seemed to be a safe one, just as Cooper had assured him back when she’d first moved in.

Actually, what his old pal had said was, “If you’re that worried about her, why don’t you go down to Nashville and see for yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“She doesn’t want to see me.”

“How do you know?”

“
You
told me,” he’d reminded Cooper.

“Well, I’m sure she’s over it by now—whatever ‘it’ is. Seeing as neither of you wanted to tell me and Annie what happened, all I can do is guess that you must’ve done something to piss her off.”

“Yeah, or maybe it was the other way around.”

Cooper just shook his head. He’d been the one—along with Annie—who helped Destiny load up all her possessions, drive down to Nashville, and move into a one-room apartment.

“I give her two weeks,” he proclaimed to Seth. “Three, tops. Then she’ll be running back home where she belongs.”

But unlike Cooper—and everyone else, it seemed—Seth had known this wasn’t just a whim for Destiny.

Seth absently tossed a five-dollar bill into the open guitar case of a street singer and looked around to get his bearings.

Ah—there it was.

Nessie’s Nashville Novelties.

Destiny’s apartment was on the second floor of the old brick building, above the souvenir shop. Annie had mentioned that visitors had to walk down a narrow alley to her entrance around back. Seth was about to round the corner when Destiny’s voice drifted to him from somewhere overhead, probably through an open window.

“Yeah, right, Mike. I know I was gone for a long time, but your kisses won’t make up for the mess you made.”

Seth definitely should have called first. No, he shouldn’t be here at all. Jealous and embarrassed, he started to turn around.