He's No Prince Charming (19 page)

But what if she had screamed?

Trace opened his eyes. His heart thumped at the prospect that something could have happened to her. The reasonable part of his brain reminded him that it was the middle of the night and not too many disasters could befall someone sleeping in a cozy cabin. But then again, he thought, he was talking about Dakota, who could probably find a way to hurt herself in a padded room.

“I need to be put in a damned padded room,” Trace grumbled as he pushed back the covers and stood up, knowing full well if there was any chance at all for him to get some much-needed sleep he had to know she was safe and snuggled in her bed. But how? Walk over there? Call her? He paced back and forth and finally picked up his phone and decided to send a text message.

He typed:
Did you just scream?
While shaking his head, he pushed the SEND button and then waited, but not for long. A few seconds later, his phone beeped and his heart lurched when her name appeared on the screen. He opened the message that read:
No
. Trace, feeling silly, frowned at the phone glowing in the dark. Perhaps he was imagining things after all. With his cell phone still in his hand, he slid back beneath the covers and like an idiot wondered what he could ask simply to keep the contact with her coming.
God, I am pathetic.

A moment later it beeped again. He eagerly opened the message and it read:
Okay, yes, I did.

Feeling vindicated, Trace quickly typed back:
Are you okay?

She sent:
Yes. Sorry. Don’t tell Sierra I screamed again.

In spite of his mixed-up feelings, Trace smiled, relieved, and typed back:
Why did you scream? A spider?

No.

What then?

There was a pause before she answered:
Nothing.

Which, of course, meant something. Although his reasonable brain urged him to type
Good night
, he persisted:
Tell me.

After another pause, she answered:
I hurt my wrist a little.

Trace frowned, not liking her response, and sent:
Are you sure you are okay?

She answered quickly this time:
Yes
.

Trace typed back:
Okay.
He waited, anxious for more contact from her, but the phone remained silent. But just as he was giving up hope, it beeped again and his heart pumped harder when her name popped onto the screen. He opened the message:
Don’t worry, and go to sleep.
Trace smiled, thinking that it was uncanny how they were beginning to know each other so well in such a short period of time.

And he suddenly wanted her next to him, right now. This minute. He really should go over and check her wrist to make sure that she wasn’t playing it down, even though he knew he was grasping for straws. He typed:
I’m coming over to check your wrist.
He put his thumb on the SEND button, but then hit DELETE. Instead he typed:
Good night.
Trace hit SEND but then felt a stab of disappointment. He waited, hoping for the phone to beep again, but when it stayed silent this time, he placed it on the nightstand and then laid his head on the pillow. “You’re acting like a damned girl,” he muttered, and peeked beneath the sheet. “Oh, thank God. My balls are still there.”

Trace tucked an arm behind his head, and for a long time lay there thinking about everything and about nothing, but mostly about Dakota. If anyone had ever told him they thought he would become a loner, almost a recluse, he would have laughed in their face. And he couldn’t imagine a time when a beautiful, sexy woman was a stone’s throw away and had made it clear that she would welcome him with open arms, but he remained alone in his bed. Had anyone even suggested such a notion, he would have laughed even harder.

And yet here he was. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

He supposed he had such a difficult time accepting his fate because even though he had worked his ever-living butt off to become a champion, he had never really been challenged by the prospect of failure. Everything from girls to school had come easily, and except for an occasional injury, as an adult he had cruised along without a care. And while he had loved his friends and family in an abstract way, he had never really dedicated himself to anything other than bull riding.

Trace stared up at the ceiling and thought,
How sad is that?

After the bull riding injury, he had worked pretty damned hard to destroy his life. And if it hadn’t been for Charley Dunn, he might have succeeded. After that, he had been going through the motions, not really thinking about anything more than getting through the day, but little by little he realized how his attitude had been changing without him even knowing it. He cared not only about the day-to-day production, but the Willow Creek employees as well, especially Grady and Sierra. While there were no guts, no glory, Trace took satisfaction in a job well done. The realization suddenly came to him that he truly was dedicated to running this marina. But it went beyond obligation.

In the quiet darkness, Trace had a lightbulb moment and acknowledged to himself how much he really did enjoy Willow Creek Marina and Fishing Camp. And while watching shadows dancing on the wall, another unexpected thought hit him: For perhaps the first time in his life, he was focused on others rather than himself.

And damn, it felt good.

With a smile, Trace thought about Dakota facing her fear and trying to kill the spider. She couldn’t do it herself, but together they had gotten the task done. Perhaps this whole loner thing he had going on wasn’t the way to go after all. He recalled how Dakota had mentioned that she had felt like a fish out of water in L.A., and he hoped Willow Creek would be her healing place as well. With that thought, his muscles relaxed and his eyelids felt heavy. As he started to drift off, a feeling of peace washed over him and he thought it was about damned time to stop hiding and start living.

As his breathing became deep and even, he could almost hear Dakota’s voice coming to him soft and sweetly. He smiled, sighed, fell fast asleep.

The song Dakota had been writing grabbed hold of her brain and would not let go. The perfect lyrics started coming to her, and she knew from painful past experience that if she didn’t get up and write them down, all would be lost come morning or even a few minutes from now. Even though she was dead-dog tired, with that in mind, she turned on the small bedside lamp and leaned over to pick up her guitar. Anticipating this would happen, Dakota also had her pen and notebook within reach. Rubbing her eyes, she yawned and propped up the pillows behind her back. She started strumming the strings while singing the refrain, frowned, and then made changes.

The music poured from her heart and she sang from her soul, forgetting that it was the middle of the night and that her windows remained wide open. An hour later, she had a Carrie Underwood-worthy country love song that would surely bring tears to the eyes of even the most cynical of listeners. “Forever and ever and always . . .” Dakota sang, letting the last word trail off softly. Again, not kick-ass as requested, but Dakota loved the lyrics and couldn’t wait to get the chance to record it.

She sighed as she finally put her guitar to rest and then slid back beneath the covers, but her brain was still buzzing too much for sleep to overtake her. She thought about the news from her manager again and felt a shiver of excitement. When she had finally spoken to Ruth Jackson, Dakota had been shocked to learn that not only did the country music division of Sundial Records want new material from her, but also that her old pop music songs apparently had some Taylor Swift elements that they were interested in. They actually wanted her to polish up and turn some of her old tunes into country versions! So, according to her manager, they wanted to go more of the Carrie Underwood route and have her do some sweet songs, tapping into her old image while mixing it up with unexpected sexy songs to get the best bang for their buck.

Vince Marruso, a respected producer at Sundial Records, was interested big time, but wanted her in the studio as soon as she was ready so they could, as he put it, strike while the iron was hot. They had changed the game plan from kick-ass to pretty and perky with a sexy edge, and Vince was convinced that Dakota was a perfect fit. Add that to the fact that her old fans were of the right demographic, and, he said, she had all the qualities to shoot to the top in record time.

Dakota had been floored by the conversation, and it had been like striking a match to her creative flame. She was well aware of being at the right place at the right time and didn’t want to miss the opportunity to resurrect her career. Trace had put a positive spin on Willow Creek finances, but Dakota knew it was always a constant struggle. Breathing life back into her career meant easing the financial strain on the marina, and even though she couldn’t begin to wrap her brain around leaving, she knew what she had to do. Too many people were depending on her. For the next week, she vowed to write like crazy and then head to Nashville for some studio time.

Dakota closed her eyes and felt another shiver of excitement slide down her spine. While she had been out of the loop for a few years, she instinctively knew that the two songs she had just written were good, and she was itching to write more. She did, however, decide to keep the information to herself, not wanting to jinx this golden opportunity by blabbing about it to her friends. She would tell them if an offer was made, but keep it under her hat until then.

With a sigh, Dakota tucked her hand beneath the pillow, and with just a few hours left until sunrise, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

When he opened the screen door, Trace stopped in his tracks and stared. “Wow,” he said while shaking his head.

“Hey there,” Sierra said. She had her arms elbow deep in a huge metal bowl, mixing together what Trace knew would soon be some of her famous meatballs. He sometimes thought that she wasted her culinary talents on this fishing camp. But it was Grady over at the fridge that drew his attention. Was he wearing an apron?

“How many eggs you need?” Grady asked with his back to them.

“Just bring the whole carton over here,” Sierra answered, and gave Trace a wink. “I’ll need the milk too and maybe more breadcrumbs.”

“Gotcha,” Grady said, and turned around.

“What the hell?” Trace shook his head at Grady, who was wearing, along with the apron, a backward ball cap. “You don’t really expect me to kiss you, I hope?”

“Not unless you want an ass whuppin’,” Grady answered. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

Trace shrugged and pointed at Grady’s chest. “Says KISS THE COOK on your cute little outfit,” he answered with a grin.

Grady looked at his chest. “Oh yeah, damned if it doesn’t. I had forgotten. Well, come on over here, big boy, and lay one on me.”

“When pigs fly,” Trace answered. “Sweet, though.”

Grady, who was almost impossible to embarrass, laughed. “Yeah, I kinda like this look,” he answered with a wiggle of his butt, and then turned his attention to Sierra. “How many eggs you want in there?”

“About four or so,” she answered while adding breadcrumbs.

Trace folded his arms across his chest. “Since when did you become sous chef instead of a fishing guide?”

“A who
what
?” Grady asked.

Sierra grinned and explained, “A sous chef is second in command behind the head chef.”

“Oh. Learned somethin’ new. Guess I’m not a fancy pants like Trace over there.”

“Hey, dude, I’m not the one wearing the apron.”

“Um, Grady, he’s got a point,” Sierra teased, and nodded for him to crack another egg and add it to the ground beef mixture. “Shake a little garlic salt in there, will ya?”

“Hey, you know why I put this on,” Grady told her. “And it wasn’t to get a kiss from Trace.”

“I’m hurt,” Trace complained with his hands to his cheeks, getting a laugh from them both. He remembered a time when he was always cracking jokes, and it felt good to bring smiles to the faces of his friends. He vowed to do it more often, until it became second nature again. He remembered when Dakota said she had wanted to make him laugh, and he suddenly understood. Making those he cared about happy felt damned good. “So, why aren’t you out on the water, Grady?”

While shaking the garlic salt into the big bowl, he answered, “The boys were up late playing poker and getting their drunk on. They were pretty hungover and wanted to come in early from fishing, so I came over to help out Sierra here in the kitchen.”

“Didn’t you play with the boys last night?” Trace asked.

Grady reached for another egg and cracked it when Sierra gave him a nod. “No, we went over to my parents’ farm to help get ready for my sister’s God-almighty wedding that has taken on a monster life of its own.”

Trace raised his eyebrows. “We?” When Sierra blushed, he felt a warm rush of happiness for them. “So you two are . . . do the kids still call it dating these days?”

Sierra glanced at Grady, who answered, “I had to talk her into it, but yeah. She’s coming to the wedding with me. But it’s a big ole secret, so don’t say anything or my ass will be in a sling.”

“It’s a secret that you’re going with Sierra?”

“No, the damned wedding from hell is hush-hush. Mom doesn’t want wedding crashers from all over Tall Rock dropping in, turning Miranda’s fancy affair into a big-ass redneck wedding. Personally, I think it’s inevitable, but I haven’t divulged that little bit of information to them.” He paused and then added, “Hey, you and Dakota oughta come.”

“Then we’d be crashing. Isn’t that what you’re trying to avoid?”

“I can fix that,” Grady promised, and picked up his phone. “I’ll call Miranda right now. You two are both celebrities. She’ll be thrilled. Be right back.”

Trace opened his mouth to protest, but then clamped it shut, reminding himself that he was going to break out of his seclusion and start living again. Going to this wedding would be jumping in with both feet. But then again, he was never a wading-into-the-shallow-end kind of guy—at least he never used to be.

He was aware that although Sierra continued squishing her hands through the meatball mix, she was also watching him carefully. “Okay, what?” he asked.

“The little pop princess sure has shook things up around here, hasn’t she?”

Trace leaned a hip against the kitchen island. “You got that right.”

“You have to admit it’s been fun, Trace. It was pretty damned boring around here before she arrived.”

Trace pursed his lips but nodded, not sure how much of his feelings he wanted to share when he was still getting used to the idea himself.

“So what brings you over here to the kitchen?”

Trace shoved his fingers through his hair, feeling a little foolish. “Dakota was up late last night writing songs. I thought I’d run a late lunch over to her, in case she’s hungry.”

Sierra started forming generous-sized meatballs. “That’s sweet of you.”

“Yeah, sweet. That’s me all right. Damn it, Sierra, what the hell am I doing? Dakota Dunn doesn’t belong with the likes of me.”

“Why don’t you let her decide that?”

Trace closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Look, for what it’s worth, I know how you’re feeling. It’s scary but . . . exhilarating.”

Trace arched one eyebrow. “Exhilarating?”

Sierra’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m tryin’ to expand my vocabulary, okay? Work with me here, or you’ll get a meatball in your face.”

Trace laughed and raised his palms in the air. “Please don’t aim and fire.”

“I won’t, but only if you march over there to the fridge and pack that lunch you were talkin’ about. There’s leftover barbecue and slaw in plastic containers. Then over in the pantry you’ll find buns and chips. Pack it up and hightail it over to Dakota. You know you want to, and she will appreciate the kindness.”

When he hesitated, she raised a meatball in the air as if she were shot-putting. “Don’t make me do it. You know I will,” she said, even though they both knew she wouldn’t.

“No, do it,” Grady said after he entered the kitchen. “I dare ya.”

Trace shot him a look.

“Maybe I don’t dare ya. Hey, Trace, Miranda said that you and Dakota have to come. She even ran it by the drill sergeant.”

“Drill sergeant?”

“My mother,” Grady explained. “So are you really gonna ask Dakota to go?”

When he hesitated again, Sierra picked up another meatball. “I’m ready to lock and load.”

“I think so,” Trace answered quietly.

Sierra lowered her ammunition. “Hey, I shouldn’t be joking about this or pushing. You do whatever is right for you, Trace.”

“Thanks,” he said, and then turned to pack a shopping bag with food and soft drinks. “See y’all later,” he said as he walked toward the door.

“Say hey to Dakota for us,” Grady called over to him. “No pressure, but it would be fun if you came to the wedding, and Miranda is really excited about the prospect of you two attending.”

“Thanks,” Trace answered as he pushed open the screen door. He was reminded that going out in such a public place would likely cause some attention that he didn’t want, but then again he needed to just get the hell over himself once and for all. With that thought in mind, he walked across the street and knocked on Dakota’s door before he could talk himself out of it.

He waited for a moment and then knocked again. With a frown, he noticed her car was in the driveway, and then knocked a little louder. “Dakota?” he called through the open window. After no response, he tried the door. To his annoyance, it was open, and so he walked inside. “Dakota?” he called, and put the bag in the refrigerator. When he straightened up and turned around she was standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

“Trace?” Her voice was heavy with a just-woke-up huskiness that made him want to groan. She wore a big pink T-shirt that hit her midthigh, and God help him when he noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Whadaya doin’ here?”

“Bringing you lunch. And for the record, I knocked and called your name several times. But you really should keep your door locked,” he told her firmly.

“Evidently,” she said with a sleepy smile, but then frowned and tried to smooth her messy hair without any luck. “What time is it anyway?”

Trace reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts and glanced down at his phone. “Two thirty.”

“What?” She pushed her hair back from her eyes. “Nuh-uh.”

“Are you just waking up, Princess?”

Frowning, she blinked and then yawned. How she could make yawning sexy was beyond him, but she somehow managed. “I was up till almost dawn writing songs. Um, yeah, I just woke up. Well, I woke up around ten, groaned, but then fell back asleep. Wow, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“You need caffeine, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She gave him another sleepy smile. “You’re an angel.”

“Yeah, I get that all the time.”

“I bet you do,” she commented with a low, husky laugh.

“Coffee or Mountain Dew?”

“Mountain Dew, if you have it.”

He nodded and opened the fridge.

She peeked over his shoulder. “Wow, you brought me stuff? You truly are an angel of mercy.”

Trace nodded. “I could hear you singing, so I knew you were up late.” He cleared his throat as he popped the top and handed her the soft drink. “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought leftovers from the kitchen.”

Dakota took a sip of the sweet fizzy drink and tried to hide the sudden unexpected emotion clogging her throat, but Trace seemed to sense her discomfort.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Sure.” She waved a dismissive hand in the air, but he was having none of it and took a step closer.

“Seriously, what’s wrong? Did it have something to do with your phone call?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

Dakota licked her lips and then looked up at him. “I know you understand that when you’re on top of the world, everyone wants to be your friend. When I was no longer the It Girl, that all dried up.” She gave him a small shrug. “No one has done anything thoughtful like this for a long time.”

“Yeah, but there is a big difference.” Trace put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t have any ulterior motives here. I hope you know that.”

“I do. And it makes your thoughtful gesture even better,” she said, and then put the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Wait, I just realized you said I kept you up with my singing! I’m so sorry! I should have known my voice would carry, but I guess I just got caught up in the process and didn’t think. You should have yelled at me to stop.”

“I didn’t want you to stop,” Trace admitted, and gently pulled her hand from her forehead. “You kept me up for a while, but I found your voice relaxing. Soothing. Believe me, I didn’t mind.”

“You’re just being nice.”

“Nice?” Trace chuckled. “Yeah, I get that all the time too. Seriously, you have an amazing voice, Dakota. Pop princess, my ass. You’re very talented,” he said, and laughed softly. “I guess I could have put that differently. . . .”

“Thank you,” she acknowledged shyly. “No, you got it right. Teen pop stars don’t get much respect and should be allowed to grow up and mature, but very few are allowed to make that transition.”

“You deserve nothing but respect,” he said firmly. “And the song you were writing? I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

“I worked on it a little more, but thanks. That’s the best compliment you could give me about a song,” she responded with a sincere smile. “I really appreciate your saying so. After so many years of being kicked around, it’s hard not to doubt myself.”

“I understand,” Trace said, and drew her into his embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

“Are you going to stay and eat with me?”

He pulled back and took a step away so he could look at her. “Unfortunately, I have to pay for playing hooky. Too much work to do, but I’m going to take some of Sierra’s spaghetti and meatballs over to my place for later. Would you like to join me for a late supper? If you’re not too wrapped up in your songwriting, that is.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Oh, and Dakota?”

“Yes?”

Trace cleared his throat and felt a little uneasy about asking her to Miranda’s wedding, but then told himself he was being a big-ass wimp and forged ahead. “Grady’s sister, Miranda, is getting married this Saturday. Would you like to go with me?”

She seemed surprised, but smiled and nodded. “I’d love to! Is Grady taking Sierra?”

“Yes.”

Dakota clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! It will be fun. Just let me know the details.”