The Closer You Get (22 page)

Brett lowered his eyes and ran his hand over the award’s solid
metallic surface before lifting his face to the camera. “Life changes on a dime,
and I’ve learned you’ve just got to change with it before you wake up and
realize you’ve missed out on what real living is all about.” He held the statue
up and hoped she was watching. “Cammie, this one’s for you.”

After he left the stage, Brett didn’t wait for the usual
backslapping from the guys. He even bypassed the press area for the required
postaward interviews. He just wanted to get out of there now and deal with the
consequences later.

Brett pushed through the side doors, bent on making a quick
getaway so he could get home to take care of some personal business.

“Too bad I beat you out for the male vocalist award, Taylor.
Better luck next time.”

He paused when he heard Mark Jensen’s snide comment, but he
didn’t bother to turn around. He did hold the award high. “Hey, I have this one
and it’s bigger and better. So better luck next time, you bastard.”

“Yeah, you’ve been stealing awards from me for years, just like
you stole my bass player and my woman.”

He should just keep walking, but the anger simmering below the
surface had reached the boiling point. He spun around, walked right up to Jensen
and pointed a finger in his face. “Let’s get one thing straight. Jerry’s joining
me because you’re an egotistical prick, I earned this award by singing instead
of shaking my ass and Cammie was never your woman to begin with.”

Mark shoved Brett’s hand away and glared at him. “One day,
Taylor, you and me are gonna get some things straight, and it ain’t gonna be
pretty.”

Even though he wanted to knock the hell out of Jensen, Brett
sent him a look of disgust and went on his way. Causing a scene wasn’t worth it,
not with the press hanging around. They’d go on a media feeding frenzy if he did
what he’d wanted to do to the jerk since the first time he saw him touching
Cammie.

“Hey, Taylor, now that you broke Cammie in, think I’ll get a
little piece of that action. And this time you won’t be able to stop me.”

The threat plunged into Brett’s gut like a switchblade. The
fury—the disappointment and futility—tore through him all at once. He had enough
wherewithal to switch the award into his left hand before he whirled around and
charged the bastard. And with one furious, frustrated blow, expended all his
hostility on an unprepared Mark Jensen.

Brett flexed his bruised fist and glared down on Mark, who’d
landed on his ass at the bottom of the steps. “I’ll see you in hell before I see
you lay one hand on her again. Don’t forget, I was the man she chose to be her
first. Me, not you. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure I’m
her last
.
”

As Brett turned to go, he noticed a doe-eyed female reporter
coming after him. He picked up the pace but she caught up with him, anyway,
microphone in hand, cameraman bringing up the rear.

“Brett, care to comment on what that was all about?”

No, he didn’t, but he would. “Just taking care of a problem
that should’ve been handled a long time ago.” He took off at a sprint in search
of his truck and a fast escape.

After Brett drove away, he hadn’t made it out of the parking
lot before his cell started ringing. He pulled the phone out of his jacket
pocket and barely answered before he heard, “Where in the hell are you,
Brett?”

“I’m heading home, Tim.”

“You’re expected to attend the after-parties and a press
conference.”

“Just tell them I’m sick.” Sick of the whole scene. “And while
you’re at it, call my attorney and put him on notice. I might be needing his
services.” And the image of Jensen holding his broken nose was worth every
penny.

“Mind explaining why that’s necessary?”

“You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

He hung up, turned off the cell and slipped it in his jeans
pocket. All the way home, he thought about Cammie. He thought about the changes
he needed to make in order to have her in his life, and he was ready to make
them. If luck was on his side, he’d find a way to win her back, but it was going
to take more than a lucky buckle—like careful planning and good timing.

First, he had a phone call he had to make to another woman
who’d probably give him hell for calling so late, even on a Saturday night.

After shutting down the truck, Brett entered the house, pulled
off his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa on his way to the kitchen for some
liquid courage. He set his keys next to the digital recorder attached to the
phone set out on the granite bar. The red indicator showed he had twelve voice
mails—two from Tim, one from his mother, the rest from various well-wishers.
He’d eventually return the calls, but first things first.

He went to the refrigerator for a beer and spotted a
handwritten note attached to the door with a magnet.

Don’t forget to look at the guest room.
You can change it if you have to, but I hope you don’t have to. Love,
Cammie.

He thought about waiting until he made the call, but that was
where he headed next, leaving the beer and the note behind. He sprinted up the
stairs and traveled past his bedroom to the end of the hall. He wasn’t sure why
she thought this was so important, or exactly what to expect. But when he opened
the door, he finally understood.

Two weird overstuffed chairs—one orange, one purple—sat in the
corner of the room next to the double window. Opposite the door, a queen bed
covered in a purple spread hugged the wall. And above the white tufted
headboard, a plaque bearing the name of the little girl he’d made.

Lacey.

Cammie had managed to leave a hint as big as the empty space in
his heart. And if ever he’d had any reservations about making the phone call,
they’d all disappeared.

Brett crossed the room, took a seat on the edge of the bed and
noticed the picture on the nightstand—a framed photo of then three-year-old
Lacey propped on his shoulders, wearing a pink T-shirt that read Daddy’s Girl
and the sweetest smile. He’d kept the memento of a better time tucked beneath
his underwear in the dresser’s top drawer. He should be mad that Cammie had gone
through his stuff, but he couldn’t be mad at her. Not after she’d gone to the
trouble of doing this for his daughter. For him.

More determined than ever, he pulled out his cell and dialed
the number that could put an end to at least some of his misery, or it could
very well add to it.

Regardless, he planned to issue a few demands to Jana, tell her
he still had rights and he’d see his daughter come hell or high water, even if
he had to camp out on the doorstep. He’d tell her that she had no right to keep
him—

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end didn’t belong to his ex-wife, and
although he hadn’t heard it in a long time, he still recognized it. “Lacey?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

Apparently she didn’t remember his voice, and that ate at his
soul like acid. “It’s Brett. Your dad.”

“Is this a joke?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Nope. It’s me.”

“I just watched you win that award on TV.”

Fortunately, he hadn’t woken her up, but he doubted she still
went to bed at nine, especially on the weekend. She was already halfway grown,
and that made his heart hurt more. “Where’s your mom?”

“Out with Randy. I can give you her cell number.”

The fact she called her stepdad by his first name gave him a
strong sense of satisfaction. Maybe he hadn’t lost her, after all. “That’s okay.
I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Okay.” She sounded unsure, maybe even a little nervous.

He’d start with the most obvious reason for the call. “I got
your letter. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get in touch with you.” Sorry it
had taken him so long to try and make things right between them.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I know you’re busy.”

What now? “I was surprised you remember that song I used to
sing to you.”

“It’s downloaded on my MP3 player. I put on my headphones at
night before bed and listen to it. It helps me remember. I mean, I see you all
the time on the internet and in the record stores, but I like to remember you
before you got so famous.”

And that fame had cost them both. “I just want you to know that
none of this is your fault, Lacey. It’s my fault for not fighting harder to be
in your life. I just gave up because I thought it was best for you. But I never
stopped thinking about you. I never stopped missing you.”

“I missed you, too. I missed all those times when you showed me
how to ride Daisy. I really missed going to get ice cream when you came to see
me after you and Mom divorced.”

A divorce that had damn near ruined both their lives. But then
he wouldn’t have met Cammie. “I’d sure like to see you again real soon.”

“I’d like that, too. A lot.”

An idea suddenly occurred to Brett. A great idea, if she agreed
to it. “Would you like to come here to Nashville for a few days? I have a
concert coming up and I’d like for you to be there.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Can I bring a friend?”

“I was thinking maybe you could come with your grandmother. It
might be the only way I can get her on a plane.”

“Nana’s cool. She lets me eat in front of the TV. Will I get to
meet Cammie?”

“How do you know about her?” he asked, although he suspected he
knew the answer.

“I heard Nana talking to Mom about her. She reads all the
articles about you online and in the magazines. She says it’s the only way she
can keep up with what you’re doing since you don’t call her enough.”

Another change he needed to make. “I’ll introduce you to Cammie
at the concert.” If she didn’t bail on him.

“Are you gonna marry her?”

“If she says yes when I ask her.” He couldn’t believe how
easily the words had come out of his mouth. How quickly he’d made the
decision.

“All the girls think you’re hot, so she’ll say yes.”

He appreciated Lacey’s vote of confidence, even though Cammie
could tell him to ride out on the horse he rode in on. “Then you’re okay with
it?”

“Do you love her?”

No sense in denying it now. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then it’s okay.”

He experienced a strong since of relief. “Then it’s settled. If
your mom’s fine with you making the trip, I’ll make all the arrangements.” And
that was a major hurdle they still had to clear.

“I’ll talk her into it,” she said. “I’ll promise to clean my
room and do the laundry and not talk back. Much.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Between the two of us, we might be
able to convince her to let you come.”

A span of silence passed before Lacey spoke again. “Are you
going to sign the papers?”

Not on her life. “No, sweetheart, I’m not. You’re stuck with
me.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

His mom had once told him a child would forgive almost anything
if you gave them your love. Now he knew she was right. “I love you, too, kiddo.
And I’ll see you real soon.”

After Brett hung up, he felt a solid sense of satisfaction
mixed with more than a few regrets. He regretted all the time he’d wasted to get
to this point. He’d never believed he deserved to be a part of his daughter’s
life, but he did deserve it, and Lacey did, too. She deserved a dad who’d be
there for her through thick and thin, and he’d be that dad from now on. Cammie
had taught him that.

He realized his drive to succeed had been influenced by his own
dad’s failures as a musician and a father. But he couldn’t condemn him for that.
Not after he’d gone down the same path with Lacey. He also regretted he had been
so full of anger and pride that he hadn’t told his dad goodbye when he’d had the
opportunity. That he hadn’t told him he loved him, because he had loved him in
spite of his flaws.

He guessed that was what love was all about—forgiving and
forgetting in the face of failure. Exactly what Cammie had been trying to tell
him. Exactly why she loved him, although sometimes he didn’t see what he’d done
to warrant that love. And he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost it—and her—for
good.

The regrets and loss and sorrow from years past, the victories
and defeats from today, bore down on him like a runaway train. And in the
silence of the room reserved for his child, a gift from the one woman strong
enough to slay his biggest demon—fear of commitment—he did something he hadn’t
done in over a decade.

He cried.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

S
HE
WOULD
BE
LUCKY
if she made it on time.

Cammie took two wrong turns before she finally located the
concert site set up on rural land west of Nashville. She showed her credentials
at the gate, gained immediate admittance and navigated the company truck down a
gravel drive past tons of cars and trucks parked on the grass. She hadn’t
expected some fancy venue befitting of an upscale fundraiser, but out in the
middle of nowhere? Of course, this was Brett Taylor’s concert, and definitely
his cup of tea—performing in a glorified pasture.

But the closer she came to the location, the more she realized
he’d gone to a lot of expense—from the gigantic video screen hovering above the
semicircle of temporary bleachers filled with fans, to the towering lights
illuminating numerous refreshment tents set about the area. After she pulled the
truck next to an eighteen-wheeler, she grabbed her tote bag, slid out of the cab
and drew in a deep breath. Time to literally face the music—and Brett. First,
she needed to see if her surprise had arrived.

Cammie visually scanned the area behind the makeshift stage,
but the place was too dark to see much more than a few shadowy figures. She did
see the bus parked in the distance and assumed Brett was hiding away in
there.

“Hey, good lookin’. Can I buy you a beer?”

She didn’t have to look behind her to know who’d delivered that
tired come-on line. Her surprise had definitely arrived. She turned around,
dropped her bag at her feet and practically hurled herself into Pat’s arms,
nearly knocking him backward. “You made it!”

After giving her one heck of a bear hug, he set her back and
grinned. “I told you I’d be here, didn’t I?”

Yes, he had, during their phone conversation a week ago when
she’d asked him to temporarily come out of retirement. “Did you bring Sadie with
you?”

“Nah. Her daughter came in with the boys today, so she stayed
home. And get this. They’re calling me Grandpa. Never thought I’d hear
that.”

Cammie was tickled over the absolute pride in his voice.
“That’s wonderful, Pat. And it looks like you’ve gained a little weight, which
is a good thing. Sadie must be a good cook.”

He patted his belly. “Yeah, she cooks good, but she’s a better
kisser. It’s a damn good feeling to get a second chance with her. And if Brett
was smart, he’d follow my lead.”

Since she’d already filled Pat in on some of the details, she’d
known it would be only a matter of time before that subject came up. “Have you
seen him yet?”

“Nope. I just got here a few minutes ago. I figured I wouldn’t
make an appearance until the second set. Walker knows what’s going down and he’s
on board with the plan.”

Cammie signaled Pat to join her behind the metal support in
case Brett suddenly appeared without warning. “I’ve been instructed to perform
in the second set, too. And I can’t wait to see Brett’s face when he sees you
onstage.” She couldn’t wait to see his face, period. That gorgeous face that had
haunted both her waking and sleeping dreams.

When she heard the recorded version of their special song begin
to play, followed by a cheer from the crowd, her heart fluttered, then fell
under the weight of regret. She’d only been there for a matter of minutes and
already the memories had begun to attack her.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Look at that.”

“What?”

Pat pointed toward the stage. “On the video screen.”

Cammie came from behind the support to see the video she’d made
with Brett splashed across the screen. She hadn’t seen the final edit, and now
all she could do was watch in wonder. The film flashed from Brett standing in
front of a studio microphone, eyes closed as he sang, to the scenes depicting a
couple’s developing relationship among the notable Seattle sites. A relationship
that in some ways paralleled theirs. A first meet at a café, holding hands at
the waterfront, holding each other on the boat, and then the final scene on the
rocky beach.

She was thrilled with the sheer beauty of the pine trees
providing the backdrop, and surprised by the way the camera panned in on them to
capture each shared touch that conveyed the chemistry she’d experienced
firsthand. She was completely mesmerized watching Brett kiss her, just as she
had been when he’d actually done it. To any casual observer, it would appear
they’d played their roles to a tee. But they hadn’t been acting at all.

She swallowed around the knot in her throat and tried hard to
hold back the tears. She’d sworn she wouldn’t cry over him again, and she
planned to keep that promise to herself.

“I’ve never seen two people so meant to be together,
Cammie.”

No tears...no tears...no tears...
She turned to Pat and faked a smile. “I wish that were true. But I guess
I shouldn’t be so surprised it wasn’t meant to be. We’ve only known each other
four months.”

Pat draped an arm over her shoulder. “Let me tell you a little
story, Cammie. My grandma and grandpa met at a church social. Two weeks later,
they ran off and got married. That marriage lasted through five kids and
sixty-five years until the good Lord called my grandma home. My grandpa passed
three days later. So don’t tell me four months ain’t enough time to fall in love
with your soul mate.”

If only Brett saw her in that light. “Sometimes love alone
can’t carry a relationship.”

Pat gave her a squeeze before he let her go. “Love’s been known
to fell countries and kings, so I figure the current king of country music will
eventually come around. And speaking of the king, there he goes.”

Cammie looked to her left to see Brett approaching the stairs
leading to the stage, a contingent of guards surrounding him and a group of
people trailing behind him. They were all set in shadows, but she could still
make out Bull, Rusty and Jeremy by their gaits alone. Luckily she and Pat were
far enough away not to be noticed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the
man responsible for this worthy event, the reigning Performer of the Year
and one of the country’s most revered country singers, Brett
Taylor!”

Cammie realized she was holding her breath when Brett appeared
onstage to a standing ovation and deafening applause. Dressed in a black
long-sleeve shirt, jeans and black hat, she couldn’t recall when she’d seen him
look so darn good, even if he’d apparently lost his razor that morning. A light
shading of whiskers surrounded his mouth and set off the smile he sent to the
overexcited crowd. A genuine smile that said he was truly happy to be there.
Maybe he would be equally happy to see her. Maybe pigs could fly.

He stepped up to the microphone and held up both hands in order
to silence the masses. “First of all, thanks to everyone for showing up tonight
to support the cause—from the bands that volunteered to open the show earlier
today, to the radio stations who gave tickets away and the fans who gave up some
hard-earned money to be here....”

As Brett explained the foundation’s goals, Cammie leaned closer
to Pat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this pumped up.”

“I agree. Maybe he’s excited because he knows you’re going to
be singing with him again.”

“I doubt that. Maybe he has a new girlfriend.”

“And I doubt that. Not when he dedicated his win at the awards
show.”

She had to admit she was stunned when she’d heard about it.
She’d wished she’d actually seen it. Unfortunately, by the time she’d arrived
home that evening, she’d endured a two-hour interrogation about her relationship
with Brett, led by her grandfather. However, dedicating an award and dedicating
your life to someone were two different things.

“...so the foundation will be called the Lacey Project from
this point forward. And now I’d like to introduce the person responsible for
that change, my daughter, Lacey Taylor.”

Cammie couldn’t stifle a gasp, nor could she believe the
uncanny resemblance between father and daughter as Lacey walked onstage, her
waist-length near-black hair bouncing in time with her gait. She wore jeans and
a purple T-shirt bearing her father’s name and a wide smile that revealed a
shiny set of braces. When the camera panned in on Lacey’s pretty face,
highlighting her vibrant blue eyes, Cammie realized Brett couldn’t deny she was
his even if he tried. She was so glad he’d stopped trying.

“Did you know about this?” Pat asked.

“No, but I knew about her,” she answered. “And I’m happy he
finally found a way to be with her again.” Thrilled that he’d obviously taken
her parting advice.

Brett pulled up a stool for Lacey and after she was seated, he
started to strum his guitar. “Now I’m going to sing a song that used to put my
little girl to sleep at night. It’s not exactly your typical bedtime song, but
for some reason it worked.”

Then he went into his rendition of the classic country tune
that garnered more than a few whoops and hollers from the crowd.

“What the hell?” Pat shouted above the din. “Who sings a
lullaby that involves cheatin’ and drinking?”

Cammie could only laugh, and so did the fans when the song took
a rowdy turn. Lacey didn’t seem to be the least bit self-conscious, yet she did
seem totally enthralled with her father. And when the number had ended, she slid
off the stool and slipped her arms around his waist. He leaned down, kissed the
top of her head and sent her on her way. But before the girl left the stage, she
stopped and waved, earning loud approval from the crowd. Definitely a performer
in the making—Cammie’s first thought. And she wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she
could sing—her second.

Brett and the band moved smoothly into a round of boisterous
country hits without taking a break. He did take the time to lean over and shake
a few hands, creating havoc for the guards attempting to hold the masses at bay.
Cammie looked on as women—young and old—fanned their faces and some even
screamed his name. He was a wanted man, and no one wanted him more than she did
at that moment.

When the set appeared to be winding down, Cammie realized in a
matter of minutes it would be her turn to take the stage with him. But she found
out she was mistaken when he traded his electric guitar for the acoustic and
took a seat on the stool. “I’m going to do a song that I cowrote with a very
special lady. Hopefully I’ll be recording it soon.”

Cammie stood in stunned silence as Brett began to sing the song
she’d all but given up on. He’d kept the melody as is, and the lyrics stayed the
same until he reached the final refrain. A refrain that spoke of changes and
second chances and the road back to love.

By the time he’d finished to a resounding show of approval from
the audience, Cammie’s emotions were so on edge she wasn’t certain she could
perform. She just needed to pull herself together and get with the program.

“We’ll be back in a few minutes, folks,” Brett said into the
microphone. “In the meantime, enjoy the food and drink and don’t forget to bid
on the silent auction items.”

After Brett exited the stage, he walked down the stairs with
Lacey along with a fifty-something woman. “Who is that with Brett?” she asked
Pat as the group headed toward the bus.

“That would be his mom, Linda. Guess she came with Lacey.”

Cammie wondered if the ex-wife was squirreled away in the bus,
waiting for their return. For some reason that bothered her, even when it
shouldn’t. But she didn’t have time to ponder it when Rusty spotted her and came
rushing over.

“Now, here’s a pretty lady,” he said as he gave her a voracious
hug. By that time Jeremy and Bull had made it to her side.

“Hey, you guys, did you miss me?” she asked.

“We all missed you,” Bull said, giving her a kiss on the
cheek.

Pat cleared his throat to garner their attention. “Did any of
you no-accounts miss me?”

Cammie thoroughly enjoyed the shock in their faces followed by
grins and macho hugs.

“We didn’t know you were going to be here,” Bull said. “Does
Brett know?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Cammie blurted a little too loudly. “It’s a
surprise. He’s taking Bob’s place during the second set.”

Pat chuckled. “We’ll see how long it takes him to figure it
out.”

“Are you ready, Cammie?” Bull asked with concern.

That remained to be seen. “Sure. I’ll be fine after the first
few missed notes. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“You’ll be great as usual,” Rusty said before he turned to Pat.
“As much as we missed you, she had a way of calming Brett down.”

“He’s gone back to being his usual pain-in-the-ass self,” Bull
said. “The way he’s been acting, all of us are about to jump ship.”

Cammie tugged on Bull’s beard. “He depends on you guys. Just
hang in there. He’ll be fine.”

“But will you?” Rusty asked.

“Oh, yeah. I’m doing great.” A necessary lie.

“Ten minutes, folks,” someone called from the bottom of the
stairs.

“You all go ahead,” Cammie said as she picked up the discarded
bag. “I need a few minutes to change.” And to deep breathe.

Rusty pointed to his left. “The yellow tent’s for the crew.
It’s set up with a dressing room and private bathrooms.”

That sounded preferable to changing in a Porta Potty, although
she really wasn’t a member of the crew any longer. “Thanks. Guess I’ll see you
all onstage.”

After the trio delivered well-wishes and walked away, Pat
remained by her side. “Just so you know, I’ve got pretty good instincts, and my
gut says Brett might not be done with the surprises tonight. Be prepared because
my guess is they’ll have something to do with you.”

Cammie would be extremely surprised if that turned out to be
true. “I haven’t even heard from him since the day I left.”

Pat winked. “You know what they say about absence and the heart
growing fonder. I figured that one out firsthand.”