Good Time Bad Boy (11 page)

Shit, he had no idea what to say. “This lesson was about why George Strait is called King George.” He pointed at the door to the office. “Now, you go on and do your closing chores. I’ll sit out here and walk you to your car when you’re ready to go.”

She drew her eyebrows together, doubt painting her features.

Wade took out his phone and settled into a chair. “Go on now. I plan to go fishing tomorrow and I need to check the weather.”

Daisy shook her head and walked away.

Satisfied purring. Yeah, that was definitely the sensation in his chest as he watched her walk away. After he checked the weather he emailed Becky.

Send George Strait a bottle of his favorite whiskey for me please. Gone fishing. Your favorite client, Wade.

D
aisy dried her wet hands on a towel and grabbed her phone. “Hello?”

“Have you seen the paper yet?”

The voice was familiar, but not one that should have had her number. “Who is this?”

“It’s Wade.” The crinkling of paper sounded in her ears. “We made page three. Not that there’s many pages in this thing.”

Shit – the newspaper photographer who’d been at the Travers’ barbecue. She crossed the kitchen and slid into the breakfast nook where her laptop was already set up. She woke it up, impatient to see for herself.

“Not a bad picture, though,” Wade said. “If you like out of focus.”

“It’ll look better online,” she said. “I’m waiting for my laptop to wake up so I can log in to the site.”

“The
Leader
has a website? Well, shit, maybe it is the twenty-first century here in Brittain.”

Daisy smiled. “Don’t be too impressed. It’s not any different from the paper version and it’s behind a paywall. I use Megan’s login to read it.”

“They still deliver a day late out in the county?”

“Yeah.” The
Leader’s
website took forever to load. A question occurred to her while she waited. “How did you get my number?”

“I ran into Jillian. She gave it to me.”

Daisy huffed. “What is it with my friends?”

“Well, she’s my cousin so she knows I’m mostly harmless.”

She had to smile at the word
mostly
. “Why did you call?” The front page of the paper finally loaded but then she had to wait some more to get to page three.

Nothing but silence for a long moment. “You’re easy to talk to.”

Page three loaded and there it was, right at the top. They were sitting on the grass against the privacy fence, talking. Had they really angled their bodies toward each other that way? She couldn’t remember. She was looking at the ground and he was looking at her, and God, if she ever caught him looking at her like that in person she just might embarrass herself. Had any man ever looked at her like that before? Like conversation with her was worth at least as much as sex.

“I still know a lot of people here but it’s not the same,” he said.

The loneliness that edged his voice caught her by surprise. Then she thought of the conversation they’d been having when that picture was taken. He seemed like someone who needed a friend. She knew what that felt like. She rushed the next words out of her mouth before she could talk herself out of it. “Well, I’m free all day if you need someone to talk to. As a friend.”

Another long pause had her wondering if he’d heard. Then he said, “You want to go for a drive? Maybe have a picnic somewhere pretty?”

Say no, say yes, don’t get involved, an offer of friendship is not an offer of sex, yeah right you know you’re attracted to him.
Those and a hundred other thoughts ran through her head at breakneck speed. “Okay.” A flurry of panic hit. She lived in a dumpy rented trailer, for God’s sake, and this guy was a big country star. Even before becoming a star, he’d lived better than she did now. And stuck in a car with him didn’t seem like a good idea. Yes, he seemed like the good time kind of bad boy, not the restraining order type. Yes, he was famous and as far as she knew he didn’t have a history of violence. Yes, she was friends with his cousin. But still. The last time she’d taken a chance on trusting a guy, she spent three days in the hospital.

Daisy hated that she couldn’t let go of that fear. They’d been alone together when she closed the bar and he’d given her no reason to be afraid of him. Cousin or no, Jillian would never have given Wade her number if he was at all dangerous. But still, Daisy found herself holding back. “How about I meet you at the state park? It’s pretty there and there’s lots of picnic tables.” Also regularly patrolled by park rangers and in this nice weather, there’d be plenty of people around. Too late, it occurred to her he might not like that, being out in the open and exposed. What if he was recognized?

“Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.” He sounded so eager that it made her heart hurt for him. How lonely must this man be to want to spend time with someone like her? Okay, maybe he was at least somewhat interested in getting in her pants, but still.

She gave him a time and offered to bring the food if he took care of plates and drinks. He agreed and she ended the call smiling. She would not break her vow to never again get involved with a good time bad boy, but friendship was okay. And that’s all this was, the beginning of a short term friendship.

Daisy told herself that the whole time she spent getting ready, because fixing your hair and putting on makeup was totally something you did to just go on a picnic with a friend. And trading her baggy sleep shorts and t-shirt for cut-offs and a tank that displayed every curve was only because she was going out in public. Had nothing to do with him.

As she inspected her makeup she realized it wasn’t fear of getting hit that made her insist on meeting in public. Dancing with him, letting herself relax into his arms and against his body – it was too much, felt too good, and something she couldn’t let happen again. But a picnic with a friend, out in public in broad daylight, that was okay. No big deal.

She lied to herself one last time in the mirror before she left.

***

T
he state park was walking distance from Wade’s house, on the other side of the highway from the marina. Bright sunlight sparkled on the water and glinted off the bridge that traversed the lake. He unpacked the small cooler he’d brought to the farthest, most private picnic table he could find. Hopefully Daisy wouldn’t object. All he wanted was to drive, talk to Daisy, play the stereo loud. That photo in the paper didn’t bother him, but he wasn’t interested in sharing her this afternoon. She wasn’t willing to be alone with him, though, and he knew better than to question a woman about something like that.

The park was nowhere near as full of people as it would have been on the weekend but Wade still pulled his Nashville Predators cap down low on his head. In town, people were generally content to offer a friendly hello when they recognized him, and he was happy to respond in kind. The lake was a tourist spot, though, so he claimed a picnic table as far from the little strip of beach as he could get. It sat near a small, little used pier that currently hosted a couple of squirrels rummaging for food and a lone fisherman. The old red brick hotel stood in the distance, on the far side of a stretch of placid water. He’d played several events there back when he was just starting out, weddings and proms and New Year’s Eve parties. A lake breeze cooled the summer air somewhat and he tried to relax while he waited for Daisy.

He should have brought his guitar. He definitely would on their second date. Not that this was a date. No, this was...he didn’t know what. But he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be thinking of it as a date.

Right on time, Daisy arrived with a picnic basket. He watched her approach, the sight of her long legs in denim cut-offs sparking a pleasant buzz in his veins. He stood and took the basket from her arms. “Hope this isn’t too far out.”

“No, this is great. It’s pretty here.” She seated herself gracefully on the opposite side of the table and began to unpack the basket. “Ham and turkey on sourdough bread. Does that sound okay?”

She could have offered him roadkill on dry toast and he would have been happy. “Sounds great.”

She gave him a tentative smile and gathered her hair in a ponytail, securing it with a band from her wrist. They ate in silence, their eyes meeting occasionally and skittering away nervously. Wade realized with an inner grimace that he wouldn’t want to answer if she asked how many times he’d dated waitresses from the bars and honky-tonks he played. That number was a little too high, though at least he could honestly say he hadn’t done it in a long time. At least a year, maybe two. Shit. Was that long enough?

Boredom and the need for whatever momentary comfort he could find had led him to make a lot of bad decisions out on the road. Over the last few years, a different kind of boredom had taken hold. All the gigs were the same, the set lists and his empty, rote performances. The bars and the crowds and the women all folded together into one long forgettable blur. Taking refuge in equally forgettable motel rooms with either the TV or books for company became more appealing.

Daisy McNeil didn’t make him want to seek refuge. For the first time in forever, Wade wanted to come out of hiding. The feeling was both terrifying and exhilarating, and he grabbed on to it with both hands.

Daisy, on the other hand, didn’t seem to feel quite the same level of excitement. Quiet and reserved, she only spoke to him when he spoke first. He was beginning to wonder if he’d completely misread her when he decided to do his best to draw her out into conversation.

“Are you from here?”

“Born and raised.” She had a fountain drink she’d bought before meeting him. Her lips closed around the straw as she took a sip and the front of his jeans tightened uncomfortably.

He was looking for a friend, not a fling. That was straight in his head, it was other parts that weren’t getting the message. “Me too. Do I know any of your family?”

“You wouldn’t. Very different social circles.”

“I know a lot of people. Tell me their names, I might know them.” Anything to get his mind off of her mouth.

“My mother is an alcoholic who’s now addicted to church and making me feel like shit since she gave up drinking. My sister works at a factory and dates one loser after another, but she’s only got the one kid to show for it so I guess that’s something. My brother, now, your brother would know him. Chris has probably arrested my brother at one time or another. He’s mostly harmless but about the only job he can hold down is pot dealer.” She’d stared past his shoulder during all that. Now she swiveled her head to face him. “And I wait tables in a bar. We’re not exactly the town’s best and brightest.”

“You’re going to college, right? Sounds to me like you don’t plan to be waiting tables forever.” He didn’t know what to say about the rest.

“Yeah, but a college degree is no guarantee of a good job anymore. If I ever finish. It’s taking forever since I’m paying for it as a I go.”

“Scared of student loans?”

“Oh God, yes. Doing it this way make take a long time but I won’t be on the hook for loans when I’m done.”

“What are you going to school for?”

“I’m majoring in human resources.” There was a tension in her voice that made him curious.

“You sound thrilled with that life choice.”

Daisy gave him a sharp look, the first real sign of life since she’d arrived. “You really want to talk about life choices, Mr. Got Fired From A Casino For Drinking On Stage?”

Wade snorted. “Alright, good point. Though in my defense, that night was the first time I’d done that in a long time.”

“Drinking on stage a standard thing for you?”

“Used to be,” he insisted. “Not anymore.” Did she know
Empty Rooms
? She wasn’t a country fan so maybe not. Plus there was that age difference he didn’t like to think about too much. She might not know the song and the story behind it, and he damned sure didn’t feel like going into all that right now.

“My sister, Deanna, she and her friends go to the Horseshoe in Tunica once or twice a year. Is that where you were playing? Maybe she’s seen you in concert.”

He’d worn out his welcome at that particular casino years ago, back when drinking on stage was an every night thing. “I was playing at the Wagon Wheel this time. The Goodnight Loving Showbar.”

She made a face, her eyebrows halfway up her forehead. “Good night loving? That’s a real name for a real bar? Are you kidding me?”

“Goodnight,” he said, taking pains to say it correctly as one word. “The Wagon Wheel has this whole Western motif going on. The bar was named after the Goodnight Loving Trail. Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving were cattlemen in the eighteen sixties. That trail is the route they took to get their cattle from Texas up to the slaughter houses in Denver and Cheyenne. You ever read
Lonesome Dove
?” He’d gone through just about every Larry McMurtry novel ever published, reading into the wee hours of the morning in nondescript motel rooms.

“I think I’ve seen it at the library,” she said. “So what you got drinking that night you got fired?”

Wade blew his breath out and looked out over the water. She’d snuck up on him with the question. Since she didn’t ask right away, he’d thought he was safe. The more time he spent with Daisy, the more it sank in that he wasn’t safe with her. Not by a long shot.

He tried to formulate a response that wouldn’t get into things he wasn’t in the mood to talk about. “Sometimes the past sneaks up on you, even after you’ve left it behind.” He left it at that, hoping she would too.

A shadow crossed her face. “I hear you.” She was silent for a long time, then she said, “You said I was easy to talk to. Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?”

Wade shrugged and busied his hands with cleaning up the remains of the picnic. “I got a lot on my mind right now and no one to talk it over with. That doesn’t usually bother me but this time, I don’t know. I haven’t exactly been making great decisions on my own. I guess I figured maybe I should talk to somebody this time.”