Blackbird Lake (35 page)

“Mind if I turn it down? And change the station?” she shouted finally when she thought her eardrums were going to explode.

Big Billy cast her a glance that she could swear held a flicker of amusement. “Sure, sunshine, knock yourself out.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she muttered, not looking at him.
She whirled the volume down. Way down. Then fiddled with the dial until she found a country station playing a Martina McBride song.

“Much better,” she mumbled.

“You like the soapy songs, huh?” he grunted.

“If that’s what you want to call them. I call them good old-fashioned country.”

“Country’s not bad. But I’m a little bit rock-and-roll.”

“A little bit? That’s all?” She couldn’t help it. The words just flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. She’d been having a really terrible day and, sure, Big Billy had helped her out, but…

Suddenly she heard something she’d never heard before. A laugh.
Big Billy’s laugh.
It was surprisingly soft and humorous, filling the truck like music.

“You’re all right, Laureen, you know that? Not nearly as stuck up as you pretend to be.”

“S-stuck up?” She was shocked by the words.

“Yeah. Stuck up. That’s what I said.”

“I am
not
!” she protested hotly.

“You got a friendly word for everyone in town, you go out with all these other men, you
meet
’em all right in front of my nose at my own bar, and you never even say so much as ‘hey’ to me. Even when you come in with your girlfriends.”

“I…I…didn’t know you…wanted me to say hello to you. I thought…”

“What? That I’m still stinging from that time you turned me down in high school? Honey,” he told her with a chuckle, “I got over that. Long time ago.”

“Well, of course you did. I never thought—” Laureen broke off abruptly, a hot pink flush coloring her cheeks.

There was silence in the truck for several moments, except for Martina McBride’s lilting voice and the rumbling of the truck’s heavy tires over Coyote Road. Then Big Billy glanced sideways at her.

“There’s one thing you don’t know, Laureen. Maybe it’s time you did.”

“What’s that?” She couldn’t imagine what was coming next.

Big Billy, huge, tough, successful bar owner, bartender, and biker, cleared his throat.

Laureen waited, wondering what in the world he was going to say. She felt all of her nerve endings shiver. She was intensely aware of everything about the man sitting beside her—the fringe of coarse black stubble along his massive jaw, the muscles bulging in his thick neck and tattooed forearms, the shaggy blue-black hair that looked surprisingly clean and combed. One powerful hand rested on the steering wheel, while his right arm stretched along the top of the seat back behind her head.

For some reason, her heart was beating faster than it had in a long time, faster than it had ever beat with any of the men she’d been fixed up with since her divorce—or gone out with on a date.

“I’ve come a long way since freshman year, honey.” Big Billy’s voice sounded matter-of-fact, but she detected a hint of huskiness in it. He seemed to hesitate just a moment.

“Fact is, a hell of a lot of things have changed since then, but not everything. Not these two things. The first one is…I always thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. And the second…” He cleared his throat. “I may have gotten over you turning me down when I asked you to that dance—but, oh, hell, Laureen, I never did get over
you
.”

That evening Madison did something she hadn’t done before.

At least, not since her last pageant appearance. And not willingly.

She put on a dress.

No one forced her. She actually wanted to do it. She didn’t know how she’d feel once she had it on, because she always associated dresses with pageants and with her mother’s slew of compliments and criticisms—poking at her hair; correcting her posture and her walk; scolding her that she turned around way too fast or too slowly. Studying her smile and
grading
it on a scale of one to ten.

It had been years now since her last pageant. Years since she’d seen her mother, who now had a whole crew of little pageant princesses to primp and torture.

So she wanted to see if she was finally over it. If she could wear something besides jeans every day and not feel like…like the girl who was someone else. Not herself—but only her mother’s little dress-up doll to push onstage and show off.

Could she wear a dress now and still be Madison?

She’d bought the dress off the rack the day before at Top to Toe. It was a simple dress—long-sleeved flowy silk, in a sophisticated deep oxblood red, that ended a good few inches above her knees and made her look tall and slender. She hadn’t even tried it on yet, had merely guessed at her size and brought it home, hanging it in her closet. She
still
wasn’t sure she was ready to put it on.

But she had to meet Brady at Lickety Split in a half hour for their “date.” He’d written her a pretty nice note, but she didn’t have a clue if he was merely getting the obligation of this date out of the way or if he really wanted to spend time with her.

Or
if he’d give up and run again if her grandfather happened to call while they were together or if they somehow bumped into him on Main Street.

She wanted Brady to know she wasn’t upset that her grandfather didn’t think too highly of him.
She
thought highly of him. That should be enough for Brady.

And she could deal with her grandfather.

She’d gone to her grandmother for advice the previous day. And Grandma Joanie had told her to listen with her heart. If she was certain Brady was a good man, then one of these days, her grandfather would come around.

“You leave all that to the two of them,” Joanie Hodge had instructed her as she served Madison tea and a big slice of peach pie still warm from the oven. “They’ll work it out. You go after what you want. Follow where your heart leads you, Maddy. And trust it to always lead you to the right place.”

That was exactly what Madison intended to do. After slipping on tiny jet earrings and spiky black heels, she straightened and appraised herself in the full-length mirror on her closet door.

Some might think she was a little overdressed for Lickety Split, but she didn’t care. She liked the effect. The dress wasn’t one of those long, glittery, girly pink or white confections she associated with the pageants. It wasn’t
pageanty
at all. It actually looked good.

Sort of cool and sophisticated.

And unlike those days when she was competing and wearing nothing
but
fancy, frilly pastel dresses, she certainly didn’t feel the least bit like she was going to barf as she looked herself over in the mirror. She wore the barest trace of rose lip gloss and a tad bit of eyeliner and mascara. Her hair fell in loose dark waves, streaming past her shoulders.

Smiling slightly, she snagged a black lacy shawl from her dresser drawer and hurriedly tossed it around her shoulders. Simply wondering what Brady’s reaction would be when he saw her tonight sent an anticipatory tingle rushing over her skin.

She seized her purse, took one last peek in the mirror, then flung open the door of her apartment, only to nearly run into a tall figure in a brown leather jacket, leaning against the narrow corridor’s wall.

A scream flew from her mouth, just before her brain belatedly processed who he was.

Brady.

“What are you doing here? You scared me half to death!” She leaned against the wall for support as her thumping heart slowed ever so slightly in her chest.

“Hey. Sorry. You okay?” Brady studied her, his brows knit. His thick sandy hair was neatly combed and he looked older somehow—tall, strong, and dreamily handsome. Beneath his jacket she glimpsed what was probably a brand-new pearl gray shirt, along with his boots and jeans.

She drew a breath. “I thought we were meeting at Lickety Split.”

“We were, but then I got to thinking. On a
real
date the man calls for the woman at her door.” Brady reached behind her to close her apartment door. “So I got here early to escort you properly.”

Madison stared at him. “Are you saying this is a real date?” She waited for him to make a joke.

“As real as they come. If that’s okay with you.”

There was no laughter in his eyes. She knew because she searched them. She saw only warmth.

Her cheeks flooded with heat, and to keep him from noticing, in case they’d turned pink, she ducked her head as they started down the hall.

“I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you to knock. Or did you just want to jump out at me like the bogeyman?”

“I didn’t want to rush you. So I waited.” His gaze slid appreciatively over her. “For the record, it was worth the wait. You look…incredible. I mean,” Brady added quickly, taking her arm as they headed down the stairs, “you always look incredible but…tonight…”

She almost tripped on the bottom step, but his fingers tightened on her arm, steadying her.

“Brady, what are you talking about? You think I always look incredible? Are you crazy? In my jeans, in a sweatshirt?”

“Absolutely.” He flicked her a what’s-wrong-with-you kind of grin. “Don’t you have a clue how gorgeous, not to mention totally hot, you are? In whatever you’re wearing. Especially if you’re not wearing much at all.”

She blushed, remembering that night in her apartment. Hot? Gorgeous? Incredible? He
was
crazy. “I’m not any of those things. I never try to be. I had enough trouble trying to be all of them when I was younger.”

“I know you did—I remember. But, listen, Madison. You don’t have to try. You just are.” He held the door for her as they walked out onto the sidewalk. “You always have been,” he added quietly.

She didn’t know what to say. Brady had been her friend even before she entered a single pageant. He knew her better than anyone, except her grandparents. Her mother hadn’t known her at all, or at least, had never understood that Madison had totally different wants and needs than she did. Her head was whirling as they walked down the darkened block, lit only by intermittent streetlights, and crossed toward Main.

“I wasn’t even sure you would go through with our date…after what happened in my apartment that night,” she told him softly. “I haven’t heard from you, Brady. I’m sorry if you were mad when I answered the phone when my
grandfather called. It’s just that he gets so worried if he can’t reach me—”

Brady stopped short and grabbed her arm. “I wasn’t mad at you. Not because you answered the phone, not for any reason.”

“Then why did you leave like that? You just jumped up and
left.
You’ve barely spoken to me since.”

“Maddy…” He seemed to be searching for words as they faced each other on the quiet, darkened street, only blocks from Lickety Split. “I was furious with myself, not with you. Furious because I lost it that day, way back when I punched out Deputy Mueller after Cord died. Your grandfather’s deputy, of all people! I was sure your grandfather would never get past that. He’d never trust me and he sure as
hell
wouldn’t trust me with you. I didn’t want him to be angry with you on my account. You’ve already gone through enough—”

“That’s for me to decide, Brady Farraday.”

She yanked her arm free and glared at him, her caramel eyes darkening.

“I’m not intimidated by my grandfather. Or by you. I make up my own mind.”

“I know, Maddy, but…I didn’t want to be the one causing any kind of hard feelings between you and him—”

“Oh, shut up, Brady. You’re not going to come between me and my grandparents. You never could. No one can. But they’re not coming between you and me, either,” she told him, her chin tipping up as she met his eyes.

Brady could barely keep from sweeping her up in the air and twirling her around. She was magnificent. Slender, feminine, determined. No longer the childhood friend he’d spent countless hours with when they were young, but now a woman with a will so calm and so fierce she took his breath away.

“I don’t want anything to come between us, either.” He pulled her close, resisting the urge to stroke his thumb along her lush bottom lip. “But I want you to be happy.”

“Then I suggest you kiss me,” she told him, grabbing the front of his jacket and tugging him around the corner, into
the moonlit alley behind the Cuttin’ Loose, away from the streetlights of Main. “Kiss me now, Brady Farraday, because I won’t be happy until you do that again.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. He backed her up slowly against the rear wall of the Cuttin’ Loose salon and leaned down in the brisk darkness of the October night. As his mouth brushed hers, she lifted her arms and twined them around his neck. Her lips parted and her eyes shone and it seemed to Brady that every curve of her body seemed to melt like the sweetest candy against his.

He kissed her a long time, letting his lips rove along her jaw, down her throat, then return to capture her mouth. He studied her as if memorizing every single one of her features, every eyelash, freckle, and the shape of her mouth. Then he kissed her some more.