The Patriot Girl (9 page)

“Thank you.” This discussion made her dream a reality. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted Dustin to be her first client.

Life was moving so fast. Alex would be leaving for college and she needed something soon to occupy her time. Knowing this was their last meal together brought on unexpected tears.

Since Alex had planned to spend Thanksgiving alone at the cabin in Kentucky, to ruminate over their family gatherings, she wouldn’t see him again until Christmas break.

“Don’t cry, Mom. It’s awesome you’re moving on and doing something you’ve always wanted to do. You’re nervous and scared, right?”

Aside from how much she was going to miss having him around. She forced a smile and nodded.

“Me too. None of my friends are going out of state to school. So we can be scared and nervous together. Are you going to quit the bank?”

“No.” She reclaimed her hand and wiped her eyes. “I’ll do both until I get enough clients.” She stood and cleared the table. “Doing both will keep me busy while you’re gone,
and
off the phone calling you every minute to make sure you’re okay.”

Alex laughed, and followed behind her with his empty plate in hand. “I’m glad to hear that!” He set his plate down. “If this guy is good-looking and single, Jodi will be on you again to start dating.”

He hopped back and sucked in his stomach before she could grab hold of his shirt.

What was she going to do with him? He was getting older and wiser. She was getting older and alone.

****

Dustin glanced at the six-forty-five hour on his watch as he paced the gray carpet in his office. In a few minutes he would confess the truth to MaKayla. Whether in business or pleasure, secrets always made things worse. He couldn’t let whatever he had going on with her start out as a lie.

He’d rehearsed all day what he was going to say to her, so why was he drawing a blank now? How he’d remembered to put one foot in front of the other had been an accomplishment.

Some fresh air might get his mind working normally before MaKayla arrived. Grabbing the contract off his desk, he stepped out of his office. It was a good thing he’d signed the paperwork earlier because he wasn’t sure his shaky hand would be up for the challenge now.

He reached to push the front door open, but someone on the other side beat him to it. “I’m sorry.” MaKayla stood in her black top, cream pants, and flip-flops. “Were you heading out?”

“No. I just wanted a little air.” He checked his watch. “You’re right on time.”

“Of course.” She reached for a handshake and he accepted. “I’ll expect you to do the same…when I start scheduling interviews. That is, if you haven’t changed your mind about all this.”

“No.” But he wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t change her mind after he told her the truth. Knowing that in a few minutes her smile would disappear crushed him.

“Good.” She stepped inside. “Let’s get started.” She was all business, getting right to the point.

He escorted her toward the bar and they sat on the two end barstools closest to the wall.

“We have a lot to go over. I haven’t started on the paperwork, but my hands are tied until I, first, get your signature on the contract, and second, get the information from you that I need.”

He traded with her—his signed contract for the white pocket folder containing a list of questions, a flyer, a picture of an old man, and more business cards. She was very organized. He could say that much about her business tactics. Maybe he should hire her to organize his office.

“We need to go through these questions before I can start getting press kits together. But before we go through them, I need to share some exciting news.”

Dustin could sit and listen to her talk all night. He didn’t want to ruin her excitement over some singer appearing during opening night. The higher her excitement grew, the harder she’d fall once he told her the truth. He’d better figure out a good time to break the news and start talking soon.

“And so if you decide to go with having open mic night, I can try to get Buck to introduce me to some record producers who’ll come out maybe twice a year to hear new talent. What do you think?”

He’d never seen a woman with so many ideas for one project. “I think you’ve put a lot of effort into planning.”

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.” She handed him a list of what she’d explained. “After I get your information and take a few pictures, I’ll compile some materials for you to go through. First, sign here and here.”

The longer he procrastinated the sicker his stomach felt. He needed to end the misery.

He signed her copy of the contract, which would probably be ripped up before the night ended.

She glanced at the paper. “You have a doctor’s penmanship. What’s your last name?”

Standing, he dodged her question by taking her hand, then leading her toward the opposite end of the bar. She would learn exactly who he was soon enough.

“Let’s go take those pictures now before the place gets busy. That way if all you need are answers, we can go in my office for peace and quiet.”

She aimed her camera at the straw hat hanging behind the bar. “Is there a story behind this hat?”

This was one of his favorite items in the place. “That was my grandfather’s hat.” The light flashed from the camera. “He wore it the night he proposed to my grandmother nearly fifty years ago.”

She looked at him. “How romantic that she kept it all those years.”

He nodded. “Every boot, hat, guitar, belt buckle, and chaps here has a story.”

“So this is a memorial to your family?”

“And cowboys, in general.” Dustin placed his hand on her lower back and led her to a glass case that held a pair of cowboy boots and chaps. Next to them were black and white photos from a rodeo. “These were my uncle’s. That’s him in the picture. Celebrating his first rodeo win.”

“This is amazing, Dustin. Where did you get all of this stuff?”

“From my mother and grandmother. They kept everything. I think nowadays they’d be called ‘hoarders.’” He walked her over to the back wall where tools dating back before either of them was born were displayed. “My mother still has stuff from when I went to kindergarten.”

“It’s a mother’s job.” MaKayla’s voice cracked. “I still have things Alex made me for the holidays since—”

“What’s the matter?” Dustin wanted desperately to hold her and give her a shoulder to lean on, but until she knew who was holding her, he had to keep his distance.

She wiped a tear. “I’m sorry. My son leaves for college in the morning.” She pointed to the memorabilia on the wall. “I understand why your mother and grandmother couldn’t part with the family heirlooms. It’s hard enough to part with memories such as these. It’s even harder to part with your child when he grows up and doesn’t need you anymore.” She pointed to a guitar hanging on the wall. “Where’s this from?”

He took down the acoustic guitar. “I found it in my grandmother’s attic in Oklahoma. It’s autographed.”

Turning it sideways was the only way to view the fading black letters. “To my biggest fan. Love, FWR. Who’s FWR?” MaKayla took a picture.

He shrugged. “No idea.”

She focused her attention on the wall beside her. “They don’t make spurs like that anymore.”

He removed an old spur off a ledge. “No, they don’t.”

“These pictures will really help to get folks in here. Cowboys from all over might want to compare lifestyles. And the older generation would be interested in their roots. But, what are these things worth? I don’t want to advertise and have this place get broken into.”

“Family items are priceless in our hearts. For someone to steal this stuff and sell it on the Internet would only be a matter of what somebody was willing to pay.”

“So I can go ahead and mention a few items?”

“Sure. That’s what I’m paying you for.”

****

MaKayla fought the urge to reach up and caress his cheek. Something wasn’t right with him this evening. His smile was forced. His fingertips on her back were as close to her as he seemed to want to get.

Not once had he even tried to kiss her hand. And he’d ignored her earlier question about his name. Was he being Mr. Secret Keeper again? How bad could his news be?

If he were anyone else, she wouldn’t make a fuss, but not with a man who had kissed her so soon after meeting her. Now, why was he standing two feet away with his back toward her?

“Dustin?” She had to clear the air in order to focus on her job.

“What?” He turned around and faced her.

“Are you okay with all of this? If not, please let me know. You’re the boss. You
always
have the last say. If there’s something on the list you don’t like, or pictures you don’t want me to take, please say so.”

“It’s fine, MaKayla.”

Then why haven’t you flirted with me?
“What’s bothering you?” She hadn’t said or done anything wrong that she knew of. “Have you found a younger, sexier publicist with a recent college degree and more experience?”

She’d made a deal to help Buck out. In return, his fame would help No Bulls and her business. She couldn’t let any of them down. “Or are you regretting the kiss we shared?” This she could deal with. No kissing would only affect her feelings. She’d still have her business and be able to keep her promise to Buck. “If so, we can keep our distance and work strictly on a business level.”

“No.” He stroked her hair. “I haven’t found another publicist. And I definitely don’t regret our kiss. If only my life were that simple.”

“I’m not only your publicist. I’m your friend too. You can talk to me.”

He tucked his hands into his pockets. “You might change your mind about being both my friend and my publicist after you hear what I have to say.”

“We need to have open communication here, Dustin. If there’s something you need me to know, you’d better tell me before the press does.”

“Yeah, I know.” He met her gaze. “Can you promise me you’ll still go on with this project after I tell you this?”

“Is the secret worse than not telling me you owned this place upfront?” She raised her brows and smiled. His lips never parted or curved. He was serious. “Okay, I promise. I’ll still be your publicist. Now what’s got you all upset?”

He raked his fingers through his hair, looked her straight in the eyes, and confessed. “My first name isn’t Dustin.”

“Okay.” Many people went by a nickname. Most people called her Mackey. No big deal. But what did a nickname have to do with business? “Are you afraid someone will start calling you by your real name once you’re a public figure?”

He followed her to a small round table and sat down. “Yeah.”

“Seriously?” MaKayla blinked slowly to make sure this conversation wasn’t a dream. She’d heard of some strange names before, but none that would stop a person from making a business transaction. She couldn’t blow this opportunity because of a name. “If you’d like, I’ll be sure to tell the media that for personal reasons your real name shouldn’t be used.”

“It’s not the media I’m worried about.”

“Then who?”

“You.”

“Me? Why?” Her throat tightened when she stared into his eyes. The spark disappeared. His charm was suffocating beneath his uncertainty. This wasn’t good news. Since she didn’t have Alex or Paul’s hand to hold, she reached across the table and held Dustin’s. “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

“MaKayla…”

“Come on.” She sensed this information would affect their relationship somehow. “I’ve heard enough bad news in my lifetime to know when things are going to change.”

He squeezed her fingers. “Dustin’s my middle name. My real name is…my birth name is Harold James.”

“Harold.” What was so wrong with having Harold as a first name? “Harold Dustin James.” Why did that sound so familiar? Oh, no. Her muscles tensed. The camera released from her grip and thumped onto the floor.

Adrenaline kicked in and her body trembled. She gasped for air. This couldn’t be happening. She must have heard him wrong. “You’re not the same Harold James that killed my husband Paul, are you?”

His glazed eyes told her all she needed to know.

“No!” She pulled her hand back and covered her mouth. “Please, Dustin. No.”

He knelt beside her and took her hands into his. “I’m sorry, MaKayla.” His grip on her hand tightened as she tried to break free.

The blood in her veins turned cold. So many questions ran through her mind. So many feelings filled her heart—hurt, disappointment, regret, anger, and fear.

“I don’t want this to change anything.” He let go of her hands and rose to his feet.

She picked up her camera and stood in front of him. “I’m not sure I can…” Her hands turned into fists. She pounded his chest. Three years of anger spilled out onto this man’s body. “He was all I had. You should have stopped. You
should
have been driving slower.”

“I know.”

His hands dropped to his sides and allowed her to express her fury.

She stopped. Why was she beating this man? Was she outraged because of whom he was? Or was it because the only man she found alluring had to be the one man she couldn’t have.

She placed her open palms on his chest, looked up, and calmly forced her words past the grip this emotional asphyxiation had on her throat. “Didn’t you
see
he couldn’t stop? Didn’t you—”

He pulled her close, crushing her arms between their chests. “I’m so sorry.”

As comforting as his arms were, she couldn’t allow herself to stay in them. She stepped back. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He reached for her hand but she pulled back. “I don’t remember anything—not a damned thing about that night, MaKayla.”

“You were there…obviously. Or maybe you don’t want to remember?”

He shook his head. “I
can’t
remember. After I came out of my coma, the forty-eight hours prior to the accident were erased from my memory.” He touched her shoulder with one hand and lifted her chin with the other. “I never meant for any of this to happen. Please, forgive me.”