Natural Born Charmer (34 page)

Figure it out for yourself,
Dean had said.

At the time, he’d thought Riley was afraid he wouldn’t love her if she didn’t sing well enough, but he understood his daughter better now. She knew exactly how well she sang, and she wanted something entirely different.

As the crowd began to drift away, more people openly stared at him. Someone snapped his picture. A middle-aged woman edged over to him. “E-excuse me, but…Aren’t you Jack Patriot?”

Dean had seen it unfolding, and he immediately appeared at her side. “How about giving him a break?”

The woman flushed. “I cain’t believe it’s him. Here in Garrison. What are you doin’ here, Mr. Patriot?”

“It’s a nice town.” He glanced past her to see Nita and Blue guarding Riley.

“Jack’s a friend of mine. He’s staying at my farm,” Dean said. “I know the thing he likes most about Garrison is having some privacy.”

“Sure, I understand.”

Somehow Dean managed to keep the rest of the curious onlookers away. Blue and April herded Nita toward her car. Dean nudged Riley toward her father and then disappeared, leaving her no choice but to approach. She looked so anxious that Jack’s heart ached. What if he was wrong about this? But he had no time for second-guessing. He gave her a quick peck on top of her head. She smelled like birthday cake. “You were great up there,” he said. “But I want a daughter, not some teenybopper rock star.”

Her head shot up. He held his breath. Her eyes turned into puddles of disbelief. “Really?” she said on a single long exhalation.

He’d come so far with her this summer, and the slightest misstep could wipe all that out. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to sing—that’s entirely up to you—but you need to keep a clear head about it. You have an amazing voice, but your real friends are the people who’d love you even if you couldn’t sing a note.” He paused. “Like me.”

Her dark brown eyes, so much like his, widened.

“Dean and April, too,” he said. “Blue. Even Mrs. Garrison.” He was laying it on thick, but he needed to make sure she was clear. “You don’t have to sing to earn anybody’s friendship. Or their love.”

“You know,” she whispered.

He pretended to misunderstand. “I’ve been in the business a lot of years. I’ve pretty much seen it all.”

Now she was getting worried. “But I can still sing for people, can’t I? After I don’t suck so much at the guitar.”

“Only if you want to. And only if you don’t let anybody judge who you are just by that voice of yours.”

“I promise.”

He wrapped his arm around her and drew her close. “I love you, Riley.”

Her cheek fell against his chest. “I love you, too, Dad.”

It was the first time she’d said the words.

They walked toward the car with their arms around each other. Just before they got there, she said, “Could we talk about my future? Not the singing, but school and where I’m going to live and all that.”

Right then, he knew exactly how he was going to handle this. “Too late,” he said. “I’ve already made up my mind.”

The old guarded look sprang back into her eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m the dad, and I make the decisions. I hate to be the one to break the bad news, star baby, but you’re not getting anywhere near Aunt Gayle and Trinity no matter how much you beg.”

“Really?” The word came out as a soft gasp.

“I don’t have the details worked out, but we’re going to L.A. together. We’ll find a good school for you out there. Not a boarding school, either. I want you around where I can keep my eye on you. We’ll hire a housekeeper both of us like so you’ll have somebody to keep you company when I have to travel. You’ll get to see April sometimes—I’m still working on that part. What do you think?”

“I think—I think it’s the
best thing ever
!”

“So do I.”

As he climbed in his car, he smiled to himself. Rock and roll might keep you young, but there was something to be said for finally growing up.

Blue arrived at the farm an hour late. She’d
traded in this afternoon’s yellow sundress for a plain white tank and a new pair of khaki shorts, both of which actually fit her. Dean hoped Jack and Riley would stay away like they were supposed to. “I don’t want to do this,” Blue said as she came into the foyer.

Dean resisted kissing her and closed the front door instead. “My advice is to get it over with fast. Go into the dining room ahead of me and turn on all the lights so I get the full miserable effect as soon as I walk in.”

He couldn’t coax even the shadow of a smile from her. It was strange to see Blue so undone.

“You’re right.” She and her new purple sandals strode past him into the dining room. He wanted to pitch those shoes into the trash and make her wear those ugly black biker boots. The dining room lights went on. “You’re going to hate them,” she said from inside.

“I think you’ve mentioned that before.” He smiled. “Maybe I should get drunk first.” He walked around the corner and into the dining room. His smile faded.

He’d been prepared for a lot of things, but not for what he saw.
Blue had created a woodland glade of mist and fantasy. Straws of pale custard light peeked through the leaves of gossamer trees. A swing made of flowering vines swayed from a curving branch. Blooms never seen in nature grew in a bright carpet around a gypsy caravan perched by the side of a fantasy pond. He couldn’t think of one thing to say. Except the wrong thing. “Is that a fairy?”

“J—just a small one.” She gazed up at the tiny creature peering down at them from above the front window. Then she buried her face in her hands. “I know! It’s awful! I should never have done it, but my brush got away from me. I should have painted her out. And…the others, too.”

“There are more?”

“It takes awhile to see them all.” She sagged into a chair between the windows and spoke in a small, stricken voice. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. This is a dining room. These murals belong in a—a kid’s bedroom or a—a preschool. But the walls were so perfect, and the light was exquisite, and I didn’t know how much I wanted to paint like this.”

He couldn’t seem to take it in. Wherever he looked, he saw something new. A bird with a beribboned basket in its beak flew across the sky. A rainbow arched near the doorframe, and a cloud with the face of an apple-cheeked old woman gazed down on the gypsy caravan. On the longest wall, a unicorn dipped its nose into the water at the edge of the pond. No wonder Riley loved these murals so much. And no wonder April had looked worried when he’d asked her about them. How could his tough, razor-tongued Blue have created something so soft, so magical?

Because she wasn’t tough at all. Blue’s toughness was merely the armor she’d drawn around herself to make it through life. Inside, she was as fragile as the dewdrops she’d painted on a spray of floral bells.

Her fingers poked through her curls as she dropped her forehead in her hands. “They’re terrible. I knew how wrong they were while I
was painting them, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was like something broke loose inside me, and all this poured out. I’ll return your check, and if you give me a few months, I’ll reimburse you for whatever it costs to have the room repainted.”

He knelt in front of her and pulled her hands from her face. “Nobody’s repainting anything,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “I love them.”

And I love you.

The knowledge passed through him as easily as a breath of air. He’d met his destiny when he’d stopped on that highway outside Denver. Blue challenged him, fascinated him, turned him on—God, did she ever turn him on. She also understood him, and he understood her. These murals let him see the dreamer inside, the woman who was determined to run away from him on Monday morning.

“You don’t have to pretend,” she said. “I’ve told you how much I hate it when you’re nice. If your friends saw this—”

“
When
my friends see this, I won’t have to worry about any lags in the dinner conversation, that’s for sure.”

“They’ll think you’ve lost your mind.”

Not after they meet you.

Looking as serious as he’d ever seen her, she slipped her hand into his hair. “You have a flawless sense of style, Dean. This house is masculine. Everything in it. You know how wrong these murals are.”

“They’re completely wrong. And incredibly beautiful.”
Just like you.
“Have I told you how amazing you are?”

She searched his face. She’d always been able to see through him, and her expression gradually turned to wonder. “You really do like them, don’t you? You’re not just saying it to be kind.”

“I’d never lie to you about anything important. They’re wonderful. You’re wonderful.” He began kissing her—the corners of her eyes, the curve of her cheek, the bow at the top of her lip. The room cast a spell over them, and soon she was in his arms. He picked her up and carried her outside, moving from one magical world into another—
the haven of the gypsy caravan. Under the painted vines and fanciful flowers, they made love. Silently. Tenderly. Perfectly. Blue was finally his.

The vacant pillow beside him the next morning was his own fault for not getting around to ordering that Porta Potti. He pulled on his shorts and T-shirt. She’d better have the coffee going. He intended to sit on the porch with her, drinking the whole pot and talking about the rest of their lives. But when he walked across the yard, he saw that the red Corvette was missing. He rushed inside and was greeted with a ringing telephone.

“Get over here right now!” Nita exclaimed when he answered. “Blue’s leaving.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She set us up, telling us she was going on Monday. All the time, she planned to slip away today. Chauncey Crole went with her to pick up her rental car, and she’s heading out toward the garage now to load it up. I knew something wasn’t right. She’s been—”

Dean didn’t wait to hear the rest.

Fifteen minutes later, he turned in to the alley behind Nita’s house and skidded to a stop next to the garbage cans. Blue stood by the open trunk of a late-model Corolla. Despite the heat, she wore a black muscle shirt, jeans, and her biker’s boots. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see a spiked leather collar around her neck. The only thing soft about her was that fluffy little haircut. He sprang out of the truck. “Thanks for nothing.”

She dropped a box of painting supplies into the trunk. The backseat was already loaded up. “I had my fill of good-byes when I was a kid,” she said stonily. “I don’t put myself through that anymore. By the way, you’ll be happy to know I got my period.”

He’d never hurt a woman in his life, but he wanted to shake her
until her teeth rattled. “You’re insane, you know that?” He stalked over to her. “I love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, too.” She tossed in her duffel.

“I mean it, Blue. We belong together. I should have told you how I felt last night, but you’re so damned skittish, I wanted to work up to it so I didn’t scare you off.”

She planted a hand on her hip, playing the badass but not quite pulling it off. “Get real. You don’t love me.”

“Is it so hard to believe?”

“Yes. You’re Dean Robillard, and I’m Blue Bailey. You wear designer labels, and I’m happy with a Wal-Mart bargain. I’m a drifter, and you have a career that lights up the sky. Do you need to hear more?” She slammed the trunk lid closed.

“That’s superficial crap.”

“Hardly.” She pulled a pair of cheap black sunglasses from the purse she’d left on the roof of the car and slipped them on. Her bluster faded, and her lower lip trembled. “You had your life turned inside out this summer, Boo, and I was the go-to girl helping you get through it. I’ve loved every minute of these last seven weeks, but it hasn’t been real life. I’ve been Alice living in your Wonderland.”

He hated feeling helpless and he went on the attack. “Believe me, I know the difference between reality and fantasy better than you do, judging from my dining room. You haven’t even figured out how frickin’ talented you are!”

“Thanks.”

“You love me, Blue.”

Her jaw jutted forward. “I’m crazy about you, but I don’t fall in love.”

“Yes, you do. But you haven’t got the guts to see it through. Smack-talking Blue Bailey lost her courage years ago.”

He waited for her counterattack, but she dipped her head and rubbed the toe of her boot in the gravel. “I’m a realist. Someday you’re going to thank me.”

All her sass and strut had disappeared. Her strength had been an act. She was a fake—soft inside, full of hurt and fear. He struggled to get his cool back but couldn’t manage it. “I can’t do this for you, Blue. You either have the guts to take a risk or you don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If you leave, I’m not coming after you.”

“I understand.”

He couldn’t believe she was doing this. Even as he watched her climb into the car, he waited for her to find her courage. But the engine turned over. A dog barked in the distance. She backed out into the alley. A bee buzzed past him toward a stand of hollyhocks, and she pulled away. He waited for her to stop. To turn around. She didn’t.

The back door banged and Nita came down the steps, her robe flapping open over a crimson nightgown. He jumped into his truck before she could get to him. Something unthinkable pulled at the edges of his brain. He tried to push it away, but as he sped down the alley, it only gathered strength. What if Blue had told him the truth? What if he was the only one who’d fallen in love?

Was it true?
Blue asked herself as she drove down Church Street for the last time. Was she a coward? She pulled off her sunglasses and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. Dean believed he loved her, or he’d never have said the words. But people had said they loved her before, and every one of them had let her go. Dean wouldn’t be any different. Men like him weren’t meant for women like her.

She’d known from the beginning this affair put her in jeopardy, but even though she’d struggled to keep her emotions in check, she’d given her heart away. Maybe someday his words of love would be a sweet memory, but now they were a rusty knife twisting in her heart.

The tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. She couldn’t shake off his hurtful words.
Smack-talking Blue Bailey lost her courage years ago.

He didn’t understand. Regardless of how hard she tried, no one ever loved her enough to keep her around. No one ever—

She sucked in her breath. The town limit sign flashed by. She fumbled in her purse for a tissue. As she blew her nose, she took a hard look inside herself and saw a woman who was letting fear dictate the course of her life.

She eased back on the accelerator. She couldn’t leave town like this. Dean wasn’t a fool. He didn’t give his heart away to anyone. Was she really too damaged to recognize love, or was she simply being a realist?

She looked down the road for a place to turn around, but before she could find one, she heard the siren.

An hour later, she gazed across the gray steel desk at the chief of police, Byron Wesley. “I didn’t steal her diamond necklace,” she said for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Nita planted it in my purse.”

The chief looked over her head to the television, which was tuned to
Meet the Press.
“Now why would she do that?”

“To keep me in Garrison. I told you.” She slapped her fist on the desk. “I want a lawyer.”

The chief pulled the toothpick from his mouth. “Hal Cates plays golf on Sunday morning, but you can leave a message.”

“Hal Cates is Nita’s lawyer.”

“He’s the only one in town.”

Which meant Blue would have to call April.

But April didn’t answer her phone, and Blue didn’t have Jack’s number. Nita was the one who’d had her arrested, and she was hardly likely to bail her out. That left Dean.

“Lock me up,” she said to the deputy. “I need to think.”

“Are you going to get Blue today?” Jack asked Monday afternoon, the
day after Blue’s arrest, as he and Dean stood on side-by-side ladders giving the barn a fresh coat of white paint.

Dean wiped the sweat from his eyes. “Nope.”

April gazed up at him from the ground, where she was painting window trim. The red bandanna she’d twisted around her hair was already speckled with white. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I’m sure. And I don’t want to talk about it.” He wasn’t sure at all. He only knew that Blue wasn’t tough enough to stay in the game. If Nita hadn’t stopped her, she would have been halfway across the country by now. When Dean got up this morning, he’d decided he could either get drunk and stay that way, or slap paint on this damned barn until he was too tired to feel the pain.

“I miss her,” Jack said.

Dean annihilated a cobweb with his paint rag. Despite everything he’d told her, she’d walked away from him.

Riley piped up from the ground below. “I don’t think Blue and Dean are the only ones who had a fight. I think you and April did, too, Dad.”

Jack kept his eyes on the area he was painting. “April and I didn’t fight.”

“I think you fought,” Riley said. “You hardly talked to each other all yesterday, and nobody’s dancing.”

“We’re painting,” April said. “You can’t dance all the time.”

Riley cut to the chase. “I think you two should get married.”

“Riley!” April, who never let anything embarrass her, turned red. Jack was harder to read.

Riley persisted. “If you got married, Dean wouldn’t be a…You know.” She whispered, “A bastard.”

“Your father’s the bastard,” April snapped. “Not Dean.”

“That isn’t very nice.” Riley picked up Puffy.

“April’s mad at me,” Jack said, dipping his roller in the pan attached to his ladder. “Even though all I did was tell her I think we should start dating.”