Sweet Texas Kiss (Sweet Texas Secrets) (14 page)

Macy scoffed. “Every day was a bad day back then. We were scheduled for a fan meet-and-greet event, but we needed some time off and away from one another so badly that I tried to talk her into canceling it. She couldn’t believe how unprofessional I was, and I couldn’t get her to see that we needed a break more than anything else. If we hadn’t been practically in each other’s pockets every moment of the last month, we might have been able to talk it out, but one thing led to another and it escalated into a terrible argument.” She paused, her heart beating in her throat, reliving every awful moment of the fight. “Before I knew what happened, we were fighting about who wasn’t working hard enough on the new material, which one of us screwed up more when we played live, and who got the better bunk on the tour bus. Nothing was right, and there was no time for us to take a break and regroup.

“We had to go to that party, there was no way around it, but there was no way in hell we were going to hang out together.” She took a sip of her drink, her stomach churning. “Never in my life have I worked so hard to ignore someone I care about. If she was dancing, I was in the backyard by the pool. If she was talking to a producer, I was hiding in the restroom. I knew she was drunk that night, and really, she never drank that much.”

“Yeah, she was never much of a partier.” Gavin’s voice had softened, and he was watching her with kinder eyes. She’d seen the nasty comments on every online news story, had heard the rumors that Tori’s death was her fault. Survivor’s guilt kept her quiet then. But even though Gavin blamed her, too, his accusation was from a sense of loss, not meanness, and it was cathartic to finally tell the whole story. Nothing would take away his grief, but somehow she wanted to make him understand.

“One minute, I was hustling to make sure we weren’t ever in the same room, and the next, she was gone. Just like that. She’d slipped out without saying good-bye. We were having a hard time, probably the darkest ever for our friendship, but I would have called her a cab or gotten her a ride home. She didn’t know that, probably thought I hated her or was too angry to care, and she just disappeared without a word.”

So Tori had been alone that night, racing through the streets in her little Corvette convertible before crashing it through the brick wall of an elementary school. Macy would never forget a single detail: the car’s front crunched into oblivion, bricks scattered all over the parking lot, fluids leaking onto the cement. And if her guilt didn’t keep it fresh in her mind, the press was more than happy to remind her.

Gavin squeezed her knee. “I … uh … didn’t know that’s how it happened.”

“I always thought we’d have time to make up. I never thought she’d be gone.” She swallowed, waiting for him to say something, to let her know he believed her. “I wish we’d made up before that party. Instead, we were bickering over who sounded like the bigger bitch in that
People
magazine article that had just come out. I was so pissed, all I could think about was how she’d made me look stupid. All the pictures they used in an article after the funeral were from our last tour, and every one of them reminds me of a fight we had. Sometimes all I remember are the arguments.”

God, it hurt to say that out loud. Every time she’d been asked about Tori, Macy had focused on the positive, on what they had together. She had a dozen stories in her back pocket about funny, inspirational, or nice things Tori had said or done and kept all the negative stuff to herself. Maybe if she’d admitted that Tori was human or that they hadn’t always gotten along, she’d have healed a bit. Carrying the weight all on her own had worn her down. She’d never told anyone how bad things were between them, had never admitted that they weren’t on speaking terms the night she died. Gavin’s hand rested on her knee, its warm and solid weight reassuring her. Warmth spread through her body, the comfort and attraction warring with her grief and guilt. Though afraid he’d rebuff her and she’d regret it, she covered his hand with hers, entwining their fingers.

“I miss her so much. I wish I could tell her how sorry I am, that she was the most important thing in my life. Everything we fought about seems so stupid now.”

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he squeezed back, and said softly, his eyes never leaving their hands, “I forget that I can’t call or e-mail her sometimes, and then it hits me that she’s gone, and it’s like it’s happening all over again. I hate that we never said good-bye.”

“Me, too. People still think I didn’t care. It was even harder at first, when fans, fueled by media gossip, openly blamed me, and maybe I should have done more, should’ve put aside my stupid pride and made up with her. Then she’d still be here, and nobody would’ve had to say good-bye.”

“Why didn’t you set the record straight?”

“Part of me thinks it really was my fault that she drove that night and it’s only fair that I take the blame. It hurts so bad not to have her around that being able to focus on other people’s anger makes that a little easier. It’s like if I keep thinking about what I could’ve done differently, then I don’t have to face moving on without her.”

“You probably couldn’t have done anything differently.”

“I know, but there’s always the thought of
what if
hanging over me. That’s why I never did much to defend myself against the rumors.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “It was easier than having people feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you.” His voice rolled around her, pulling her in. “I think we’ve both held on to the guilt long enough.”

Without warning, Gavin dipped his head and kissed her gently on the forehead, lingering as she leaned in to him. His lips were soft and firm, sending heat through her body. She wanted more. Moving into his waiting arms, she tilted her face up until their lips met, and he kissed her. Slowly at first, as though gradually deciding whether or not to continue, and then more insistently. Their breath mingled, the kiss stretching out luxuriously as she savored him, giving herself over to the decadent taste of his mouth. Electricity crackled between them, so intense that she thought she’d actually see the sparks if she opened her eyes. It had been so long, too long, since she’d connected with anybody. The hunger took over, and encouraged by the hint of satiation promised by the kiss, Macy let her hands explore Gavin’s body.

Her fingers danced over the back of his neck as she deepened the kiss, his skin warm beneath her touch. A low sound, deep in his throat, spurred her. Macy pressed her palms against the hard muscles of his chest and gave in to feeling every square inch of his broad shoulders. Throwing common sense aside, she pulled herself onto his lap, straddling his waist, and tucked her body against his, thrilling at the delicious sensation of fitting together perfectly. Her knees pressed against the thick, fluffy rug beneath them—what would it be like to feel that rug beneath her bare skin in front of the fireplace?

Except she wouldn’t be in Sweet Ridge when it was cold enough to enjoy a roaring fire. She’d be back at home in Nashville, working, and alone. Suddenly aware of how foolish going any further with Gavin would be, she pulled back. His eyes were heavy-lidded, as drugged with their chemistry as she was, and it took every bit of self-control she had to speak.

“I don’t think we should do this.”

The fog lifted, and his eyes returned to normal as he cleared his throat and raked a hand over his face. “No, of course not. You’re right. Must have been the wine.”

“Yeah, probably.” Though Macy was far from drunk, and Gavin hadn’t even finished his glass. “Listen, I think I’m going to go ahead and go to bed. We can talk again tomorrow.”

“Macy.” He said her name like he was making a wish. “This kiss wasn’t a mistake. I don’t know what it means, exactly, but you’re special, and this is something that could be real.”

She’d been alone for so long; letting him in was impossible. As gracefully as possible, she extricated herself from his embrace and stepped over him to make her way toward the stairs. Looking dazed and positively edible, he fell back against the couch, making it close to impossible to resist running back and picking up where they left off.

Instead, she paused at the bottom of the stairs and offered a pathetic half wave. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Macy waited until she heard Gavin call for Merle and close the door behind him before venturing downstairs. After spending half the night lying awake, forcing herself to stay in bed when she wanted to throw common sense out the window, tiptoe down the hallway, and crawl into his bed, she thought she’d be too tired to wake up early. Nope. As soon as his alarm went off behind his closed door, she was awake, as well, staring at the ceiling and wondering what she would say to him. Debating between hoping he’d get ready for work and leave and wishing for a soft knock at her door, she’d listened to him shower, rustle around as he got dressed, and clatter through the kitchen making breakfast before he left without speaking to her. He was either feeling as awkward as she was, or he realized they’d made a huge mistake. Either way, he was obviously avoiding her, too, and that was fine until she knew what she wanted to do.

The coffee he’d left in the pot still seemed fresh enough, so she poured herself a cup and held the warm mug between her palms as she stood in the gleaming kitchen. The luxe quartz countertops were a shimmery white with thin veins of gold running through them, the sink was integrated and spotless, and there wasn’t a hint of dust anywhere in the space. Her kitchen at home was perpetually clean, but only because it was unused. Gavin took such pride in his home, cared about every aspect of the place. Who’d have thought she’d be so turned on by Mr. Responsibility? As the coffee cooled a bit, she took a tiny sip, picturing the muscles of Gavin’s forearm moving beneath his golden skin as he cleaned the dishes. He’d left a note, crisply folded so it tented, and written in neat, compact handwriting.

With her eyes closed for a moment, she could feel his hands on the back of her neck, in her hair. Kissing Gavin was like falling sideways, scary and woozy and wonderful. Truthfully, she’d love to do it again, but she didn’t want to face what it meant. He’d been so direct last night when she tried to run away. There was no way they could have anything other than a real relationship. Gavin wasn’t built that way, and truthfully, the chemistry between them wasn’t purely physical. It was slipping beneath the surface, and she could keep it tamped down, but it was there. And it scared the hell out of her.

He remembered the way they got along so easily in the past, and he obviously felt the same chemistry she did, but Gavin Cooper didn’t know her now. He didn’t know she was a mess who wasn’t capable of maintaining a relationship. She couldn’t even make up with Tori long enough to get her a ride home.

She wanted to stay, knowing there could be potential for something between them and wanting to explore what kind of future might be possible. The life they could have together was clear in her mind as she stood in the kitchen. It would be sexy to cook with him, bumping into one another, feeding each other tastes, their hands brushing as they reached for the same spoon. They could spend their weekend mornings sitting side by side at the big table in the breakfast area, eating a leisurely breakfast as they read the news. The kitchen had seen so many meals, so many memories. It was natural that Gavin would continue here with his own family.

Only the house was hers, not his, and she wasn’t going to stay. He wanted nothing more than to find the perfect woman to build a life with, and he wanted to do it in the house where he’d grown up. It wasn’t for her, and the longer she stood there, the travertine tile cool against her feet, the easier it was to forget that her life was in Nashville, not Sweet Ridge.

Macy needed to get home, to line up auditions, and to forget about Gavin. She’d sell him the house and tamp down her foolish attraction to him. Hell, maybe she’d even give it to him outright. Then they’d both be happy. He’d have everything he wanted, and she could refocus her energies on her career and quit moping around and blaming everything that went wrong on one tragedy. She set her empty coffee cup in the sink and started to leave the kitchen but stopped and put her mug in the dishwasher instead. Gavin liked things neat, and he didn’t know it yet, but it was soon going to be his house after all.

She passed the family photos lining the walls on her way upstairs, pausing to see a family’s story laid out in pictures, telling herself that she was making the right decision. This house
was
the Cooper family, and she would never feel right taking it away. Every image held a memory, a memory made right there. Gavin as a middle-schooler, kneeling next to an elderly blue heeler. What was that dog’s name? Grayson standing beside Jack, chest out, smiling proudly in the kitchen in front of a pile of avocado pits and skins. Gage lying in the grass in the backyard, photographed from above.

She didn’t belong here; Gavin did. Her attraction to Gavin was just that, attraction and nothing more. No need to complicate his life by trying to make it into something, or trying to fit into a life that she wasn’t cut out for. Not sure if she’d wait until he got home from work, go see him on her way out of town, or simply leave him a note, she hurried to her bedroom to start packing her things. She’d drive out to San Antonio, get a flight out of town, and be back home before nightfall, and her visit to Sweet Ridge would fade into memory.

As she picked out clothes to change into after her shower, her phone slipped out of her back pocket when she scooped up her jeans, and she noticed that she’d missed a phone call from her agent. She dropped onto the bed and dialed her number.