Authors: Lisa Lewis
"What the hell is her problem?" Even though the woman had completely irritated him, Tom couldn’t help staring after her, noting the sexy sway of her hips as she stalked away.
"She’s got so many of them right now, I wouldn’t know where to begin."
Tom turned back to George, lifting an eyebrow in inquiry.
"Not that it’d be my business to tell you any of her problems anyway," George continued. "You can ask her yourself, if you dare."
Tom tucked that idea in the back of his mind, but then got back to the reason for interrupting the man’s conversation in the first place.
"Look, George, I really just want to know if your daughter can handle herself. I mean, we need this tour to proceed on schedule, with as few screw-ups as possible. We need to have people around who can do the hard labor, move the heavy equipment. Your girl, Bethany, right?" He waited for George’s nod. "She doesn’t look capable of lifting fifty pounds let alone a couple hundred. And besides that, where’s she going to stay? In all your years in the business, I bet you rarely came across a female among the roadies."
George waved his arms in a calming gesture. The older man’s brown hair was thinning, but his otherwise toned body didn’t reveal his age. "Now hold on there, Tom, it’s all been figured out. First of all,
Bethany
might not look too strong, but she’ll do whatever she needs to do. She’s a tough cookie, inside and out. And second, she’ll be bunking with Hannah and Liz while we’re on the road. Marty already okayed all the hiring and travel arrangements. I checked with him as soon as I brought
Bethany
on board two days ago."
Tom felt a little more at ease knowing that Roadhouse’s manager, Marty Sills, had approved the crew changes. And he knew the friendly back-up singers wouldn’t mind sharing their living quarters with
Bethany
for the next five weeks. The more, the merrier, they would say.
"All right. Sorry, George, for being so worried, but we really need to show our stuff the next few weeks, and I guess the stress is getting to me. I’m sure everything will be fine." He gave the man a smile as he watched his band mates regrouping for additional rehearsal. "Talk to you later."
As Tom headed back toward his friends, his smile slipped away. For some reason, he had a feeling this tour wasn’t going to be as untroubled as he’d hoped.
•
Beth dropped down onto the barstool and signaled to the man wiping down the oak countertop. "I’ll have a light beer. Whatever you have on tap."
As the foamy brew was set down in front of her, Beth let out a long, deep breath and allowed the soft bluegrass tunes coming from the jukebox to wash over her. She was beat. She knew office work made people soft, but she’d thought her workouts at the company gym five times a week had kept her in decent shape. Was she ever wrong. She hadn’t really known the meaning of sore muscles until today.
Now, after her first day of being a roadie, she was exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally. It had been hard work fighting the constant compulsion to watch Tom Crowley as he rehearsed. Ever since her encounter with him earlier in the day, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Beth knew she’d been rude, but it was pretty much how she was with everyone lately. He’d merely been unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up suffering from her caustic tongue.
She felt a lot better now.
Her father had risked a lot by hiring her to work on Roadhouse’s premiere tour, and Beth knew she owed him for that. It had taken her a couple weeks of feeling sorry for herself before she’d called George and asked for his help. Just in time, too, because her savings account was nearly empty.
Taking a long draw of her beer, Beth looked around the dimly lit club. It was pretty empty, but that was to be expected at three o’clock on a Thursday afternoon. This place probably didn’t see much action until the weekend, when local bands played to a full house of dancing, flirting, party-hardy people. Beth idly wondered if Roadhouse had ever played here.
Which brought her thoughts right back to Tom Crowley.
She’d never seen a sexier man. He wasn’t attractive in a big-city, polished sort of way, but in a laid-back aw-shucks ma’am manner. She had never been attracted to men like that before, but something about this man had captured her attention. It could’ve been the deep chocolate-brown eyes that had twinkled at her, or the wicked grin he’d tossed her way. She’d absolutely loved how his dark hair was styled, trimmed fairly close to his scalp yet still long enough for a woman to run her fingers through it. Really hot. And Beth definitely knew that his voice had captivated her with its smooth southern drawl.
Too bad he hadn’t had something interesting to say with that voice.
Oh,
well.
Beth smiled to herself and took another swig of beer. At least she had a job now and could feel proud of herself for doing hard, honest work.
"That smile for any reason in particular?"
She nearly choked on her beer. Her thoughts must have conjured him up because Tom Crowley was standing just behind her right shoulder. Coughing and trying to catch her breath, she couldn’t resist giving him the once-over. Still dressed in the worn jeans and gray T-shirt he’d had on earlier, Tom looked cool and relaxed. She, on the other hand, felt haggard and grubby in her own shirt and jeans, having come straight to the bar from work. She hadn’t expected to socialize with anyone, least of all Tom.
"Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you." Tom gestured to the empty stool beside her. "Do you mind if I sit?"
Cautiously, Beth shook her head. She wondered what he wanted.
"I wasn’t sure if you’d be here or not. Your father said you were going to get a drink, and I took a chance that you headed here to Gregory’s, seeing as it was the closest bar."
Surprised, she asked, "You were looking for me?"
"Yeah. I thought we got off on the wrong foot, and I didn’t want to spend the next month on the road avoiding each other for a no-good reason. I wanted to start over again, with no assumptions being made. Fair enough?"
Beth slowly took a drink of beer, pondering his words and the real reason behind them. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was her improved mood after a difficult day’s work was over. Regardless, she decided to give him a chance.
"Fair enough."
•
Tom slowly let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding. He wasn’t sure what exactly had driven him to seek out this prickly woman, but now that he’d found her, he really did want to start over. For the sake of the tour, he reminded himself. Not for personal reasons.
He extended his hand. "Hi. My name’s Tom Crowley. I sing and play lead guitar for Roadhouse. I hear you’re going to be working with us on our tour."
A slender, lightly tanned hand slipped into his, giving a strong, firm shake before withdrawing. "Nice to meet you, Tom. I’m Beth Miller."
Tom got the bartender’s attention and gave an order for whiskey on the rocks. Then he turned back to his companion. "Your father called you
Bethany
earlier. You don’t like that?"
She scrunched up her nose and shrugged. "It’s fine, I guess. It just makes me feel like a little girl again when he calls me that. But I suppose it’s better than what he says when I disappoint him. ‘Oh,
Bethie
. What have you done now?’ I can still hear those words in my head whenever I do something wrong."
"Well, I think
Bethany
is a real classy name. Although Beth is cool, too. Did you ever hear the Kiss ballad called "Beth?" It’s a great song."
He sang softly, "Beth, I hear you
callin
’ ..."
Beth smiled and rolled her eyes at him. "Are you kidding? Of course I’ve heard it. In fact, I was named after that song. My parents made out endlessly to seventies music, and I might even have been conceived to it. Not that I like to think about stuff like that." Beth shuddered dramatically at the thought.
Tom chuckled and took a swallow of his drink. "Yeah, no one likes to think about their parents doing it." And he was trying really hard not to think about himself doing it ... with
Bethany
. "Did George ever roadie for Kiss? He was on the road during their heyday, right?"
A shadow crossed over Beth’s face but quickly disappeared. "I don’t think he worked with them, although he’s been traveling with different bands longer than I’ve been alive. Rock and roll, grunge, rap, and now country acts. He’s done it all, and he never seems to tire of it. I sometimes think he’ll die on the road, hauling equipment for one band or another." She took another sip of her beer.
"Would that bother you, if he went that way? I mean, if he’s doing what he loves when he goes, would that be so bad? Not that he’s going to die any time soon, in my opinion. He looks healthy as a horse, in great shape for his age. Do you know anything different?"
Beth glared at him over her glass, her light blue eyes shining like icicles. "Don’t worry. To my knowledge, nothing is going to ruin your precious tour. Least of all the death of my father."
Tom glared right back at her, offended by what she was thinking. "Okay, listen here. I was trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find out more about you, maybe. But I was not, under any circumstances, trying to ensure my own career status by pulling some inside information from you. Nothing was further from my mind. I consider George a friend, not just a co-worker, and I asked about his health in that capacity. Contrary to whatever you believe, I do care about people other than myself."
Beth ducked her head, shielding her face behind a curtain of long blonde hair. "I’m sorry. I’ve been in a real bad mood today, and you always seem to be the one I take it out on. I guess I’ve just been inclined to think the worst about everyone I meet lately. I’m real sorry."
She tucked her hair behind one ear and looked at him with a small, hopeful smile on her face. "Please, can we start over again? Like you said, it’ll be a long five weeks if we can’t act civil to each other."
Studying
Bethany
’s face, Tom tried once again to not think about being more than civil to each other. A slightly upturned nose. High cheekbones and expressive silvery-blue eyes. Full lips and smooth, sun-kissed skin. Nice features individually, but together they formed a picture of true beauty. He really wanted to get to know this woman better.
"All right. But this is your last chance. You can only push my restart button a couple of times before I completely shut down." Tom gave her a quick smile to soften his words, letting her know he was kidding. After taking another sip of whiskey, he asked, "But really, how was your first day as a roadie? Things go okay?"
Beth nodded. "Yeah. We loaded up as much as we could on the truck today, and we’re going to finish up tomorrow after the band’s final rehearsal. Cole, Mike, and the other guys were really helpful. They showed me what to do and didn’t yell too much if I messed up."
"You’ll get the hang of it. The crew seems like a good group, and we really are glad your father took the job as road manager. I think Freestone Records did the right thing in asking him to work with us. With his help, and the way the tour schedule has been planned out, we’re thinking things will run pretty smooth."
"I haven’t had time to check out the exact tour itinerary." Beth leaned an elbow on the bar and propped her cheek against her curled hand. "We’re hitting some major cities on the East Coast, right?"
"Major cities, minor cities, and everywhere in between. Basically, this is Roadhouse’s trial run in the limelight. If we can’t fill the seats, there’s no sense in planning any more tour dates after this trip. And Marty, our manager, arranged a very specific route, too."
"What do you mean?"
"Marty is big with building anticipation. He wants to draw in as many fans and ticket buyers as he can along the way. What better way to do that than through local media coverage and word of mouth?"