Текст книги "Just Play"

Автор книги: Taylor Hart

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

9

'It was totally a rush', Tiffany thought as they sprinted out of the shop and up the side street. It was even more of a rush when she heard someone yelling, “They’re going that way!”

Being a professionally trained athlete, Sam easily outpaced her and had to reach back for her hand. “C’mon, let’s go to the park.”

She took his hand without thinking, and they shot into the park, sprinting until they reached an empty pavilion with huge trees.

Sam hardly seemed out of breath while she struggled to control her breathing.

Sam tugged her against the side of the Pavilion. “Put your back against it.”

It didn’t bug her that he was still holding her hand, but it surprised her that she had butterflies in her stomach. Even more surprising was that Sam Dumont was nothing like what she’d thought he would be based on how he’d been portrayed in the media.

He was scanning the park. “I think we got away.” Then he yanked back. “Wait, someone is running through the park like a blood hound,” he whispered.

Both of them kept flush against the building. It was kind of funny to Tiffany that she was hiding out with a pro football player. Katie marrying Roman had taught her a little bit about having the media around, and she listened to Katie complain about it all the time.

Admittedly, Tiffany had always thought that it wasn’t as bad as Katie made it out to be, but she’d never said anything. She’d quit being jealous of Katie the minute they’d become best friends again. She’d told herself that her friendship with Katie was too important to ever let petty things get in the way again.

Now, as she found herself hiding with Sam, she realized she didn’t want the media to find them. She just wanted to have more time with him. Realizing the direction of her thoughts, she quickly pulled her hand away.

Sam was peering over the side of the building again, but he turned back to her immediately. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off.

Tiffany didn’t understand how looking into his chocolate colored eyes made her go all gooey inside. She smiled nervously to show him it was okay. “Is there anyone still after us?”

He peeked out for a second and then came back. “Let’s sit for a bit to give them a little more time to disperse.”

“Okay.” She sat, and he sat down next to her.

He picked up a small stick and started drawing in the mud next to them. “That was fun.”

Picking up her own stick, she began to draw a flower. “I love surfing.”

He stopped and turned to her. “You would love Miami.”

She kept drawing. “Maybe, I’ve never been.”

“You’ve never been?”

She grunted at his complete confusion that she’d never been to Miami. “No, some of us don’t have millions of dollars to travel all over.”

Pausing, he let out a breath. “I know. Sorry. I just…I grew up there, and I forget the beach isn’t as accessible to everyone like it was to me.” He went back to drawing. “But I didn’t grow up with millions, just so you know.”

Putting the final touches on a sunflower, she leaned back, liking her work. She glanced over at the football he’d been drawing. “Figures.” She reached up and took his hat off.

“Hey, I need that for the show tonight.” He reached to get it back, and she leaned away.

He stopped reaching and leaned back. “So are you going to tell me about Brett?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shrugged. “What’s there to say? I’m…”

“What?” He gently bumped against her to prod her to speak.

She sighed. “I believe in traditional stuff.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t sleep with him,” he stated.

“I’m not talking about it.” She used the same tone she’d used on Jared from earlier.

“Fine.”

“Fine,” she replied.

He turned and began another football.

Irritation coursed through her. “Don’t act like I should be ashamed of it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“No.” She pointed at him. “You acted like I’m a weirdo because I believe people should wait until they’re married.”

He got very still. “I may not be very religious, but I always believed in being with one person, okay?”

Giving him a look of disbelief, she shook her head.

“What can I say? I just haven’t lived that way.”

She processed this for a few minutes.

“When I apologized to Roman the other day, I meant it. It was my fault. I made my own choices, but part of the reason I was such a mess after everything was because…I thought I loved her. I thought…”

“What?” She wanted to know what he was going to say.

He blinked furiously, and she saw the moisture in his eyes. “I know it sounds stupid but I really thought I would marry her and somehow…” He laughed softly. “I thought that would redeem the both of us.” He shook his head and looked away, blowing out a breath. “I know. It’s stupid.”

Abruptly, she did something she never would have expected out of herself. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

He turned back to her. “Don’t.” He shrugged away from her touch. “I don’t deserve your sympathy. It was my fault. I did it. I messed up.”

She sighed.

They both fell into silence for a bit, focusing on their drawings.

Sam got up, looking side to side. “I think we’re safe. We’re going to have to get going. We go on in an hour.”

She stood. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

He shrugged, and they started moving toward the street.

Tiffany noticed a large van next to the Pavilion with a bunch of band members holding their instruments. “Hmm, it looks like we’ll have some competition tonight.”

Sam turned back. “Ah, don’t worry about it. When people hear your voice from the doors of MacCools, they will be lured in as if they were hearing the sirens from The Odyssey.”

Confused, she frowned. “Are you talking about that book that was required in high school English?”

He laughed. “Yep.”

“Wow,” she replied, genuinely impressed.

“Hey, not all jocks are dumb jocks.”

“I didn’t say that,” she said, laughing.

“Yeah, but you were thinking it.”

As they came closer to MacCools, they saw a line already forming outside the pub.

“Ohmygosh,” Tiffany said.

Sam stopped walking, tugging her back with him to the safety of a large tree across the street. “I guess word has already gotten out about you.” Sam grinned down at her.

Even more confused because it’s not like she had ever sung by herself, she tugged out her phone and found Jared’s number. “I don’t think this has anything to do with me.”

“Hello,” Jared answered.

“Why is there a crowd already?” she demanded.

He didn’t speak for a second. “I don’t know.”

But his voice gave him away.

“You told people Sam is here, didn’t you?” When she said it, she instantly knew it was true.

“No,” he said, but his slow response gave him away.

“Ugh.” She stomped her foot.

“What?” Sam asked. “Did he leak it?”

She nodded and turned away. “Jared, I’m not doing it,” she said.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” Sam asked at the same time.

She spoke into the phone. “I wanted to do this on my own.”

“I don’t care what you wanted, Tiffany. I stuck my neck out for you to have this gig, and you’re not skipping out,” he insisted.

“I’m not riding someone’s coattails again. I’ve been doing that for way too long.”

Jared didn’t speak for a second. Then he said, “You better be here in half an hour, or I’m never giving you a shot again.”

10

As she got off the phone, Sam let out a breath. “Well, I don’t mind being a media plug for you,” he offered. And he didn’t. There were times when people were sneaky about using him and he resented it, but not for her.

She twirled her hair that was already drying into perfect curls. “I just…” She turned away from him.

He couldn’t resist touching her shoulder.

She didn’t move. “I told you what Brett always said to me.”

Anger pounded into him, again.

Her eyes flashed back to his. “I wanted to prove to myself that I could this without him.” She took a step back from him. “And now I have a famous football player around.”

The way she said it, like he was pond scum, made him grunt out a laugh. “Wow.”

At his reaction, she actually smiled. He loved how beautiful she looked in this moment with her mascara smudged beneath her eyes.

He couldn’t stop himself from softly reaching out and running the back of his hand down her cheek.

Blinking, she turned away from him. “Don’t do that, Sam.”

Letting out a sigh, he moved away from her, trying to think of how to fix this. Taking out his phone, he realized they only had twenty minutes.

“And Jared won’t just let you sing by yourself?”

Running her hand through her wet hair, she turned back to him. “You heard him, he wants a band.”

“And you don’t want me to play?” he asked again.

She shook her head. “Yes, I want you to play, but—you know if you do…”

“They won’t hear the music, they’ll see Sam Dumont, scorned Destroyer’s player.”

She hesitated. “Yeah.”

Noticing a hot dog stand, he motioned for her to come with him. “C’mon, I think better on a full stomach.”

She fell into step next to him, and he ordered two hot dogs. He held one out to her.

“No thanks.” She shook her head, then frowned. “We just had a late lunch.”

Flashing her a grin, he stuffed half of one in. “We just worked it off surfing.”

She pulled out her phone. “I just got a text from Roman. Josh is on track to come home tomorrow, and Katie is going to stay on her trip.”

“Good.” Sam almost felt bad for forgetting the real reason he was hanging out with Tiffany. “Real good.” He pulled out his phone and saw the same text from Roman.

Nodding, she bit her lip. “So how long will you stay then?”

He shrugged. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead since Roman had needed him here. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll probably leave tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Tiffany said, looking wistful.

Loud music started, and both of them turned to see a band playing in the park. People were putting out lawn chairs and blankets.

Sam had an idea. “C’mon.” He jogged back toward the pavilion.

She was beside him. “What are you doing, Sam?”

He grinned and stuffed the rest of the hotdog he had left into his mouth. “You’ll see.”

After interrupting the park band’s first number, which made the lead so mad at Sam that he almost punched him, Sam pitched his plan, telling them up front he would triple whatever fee they were getting paid.

11

After running back to the hotel, with Sam staying back with the band so as not to attract attention to her, Tiffany tried to salvage her appearance. Good thing her mother always kept a back up make up bag in the truck.

She’d cleaned off the mascara smudges and reapplied some base and blush and lipstick and then another round of mascara. She’d taken her halfway dried hair and piled it on top of her head, holding it down with a band and then tugging out some wisps so it looked soft and messy.

She stared at herself in the rearview mirror of the truck and thought it had actually turned out okay. Then she thought of getting up on stage. With a band she didn’t know. As the lead. With no one else to share that spotlight. Sam had made it crystal clear they were all back up singers if they wanted to get paid.

Her mouth went dry. She picked up a bottle of water she’d left in the truck. It tasted lukewarm, but it was wet. She drew in a long breath through her nose.

The terror stayed right inside her chest, making her pulse race like when she was a little girl hiding under the blankets at night when she thought there was a monster.

No. No. No. She could do this, she told herself. She closed her eyes, wishing Brett’s face didn’t appear in her mind as she relived the moment he’d told her she wasn’t meant to be a lead.

Dink. Dink. Dink.

“Bahh!” She jerked back, completely unhinged.

There was Sam’s face in the driver’s side window. He lifted his eyebrows and pulled open the door. “What’s going on?”

“Seriously.” She threw her hands up.

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, feeling completely jittery.

The look in his eyes told her he didn’t believe her. “Uh-huh.”

“What?” She was defensive.

He swallowed and then folded his arms over his chest. “Then come on.”

Frozen, she took in another long breath.

“I knew it. You have that look.”

Squeezing her eyes closed, she tried to do positive imagery. “I’m fine.”

But he didn’t leave.

“Just give me a sec.”

“You’re like a rookie before his first pro game.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re psyched out.”

She leaned back into the seat of the truck. “Maybe,” she whispered.

He sighed and turned away from her, leaning back against the truck, not facing her. “Listen, I get it.”

She kept her eyes closed. “Right, you get it.” No way.

“Hey, have you been watching this past season? I—”

She cut him off. “You’ve been a pro player for three years. So you had a bad season. That doesn’t mean you’re afraid to go in.”

He didn’t speak, letting out a puff of air. “Okay.” He whipped around to face her.

She couldn’t stop herself from looking at him.

His face was animated. “Okay, you’re right. You don’t have the same junk I was dealing with, but…I do remember the first little league game I ever played in.”

She puffed out a breath. “What does this have to do with that?”

“In sixth grade, I had made the top team, and I felt all this pressure. I remember it so well because my mom was still alive, and my dad hadn’t started drinking yet. Both of them were there. I remember looking at them, seeing their expectant faces on the sideline as the team gathered. I remember the coach looking right at me as he told us we were going to kick the snot out of the opposing team. I remember being terrified—that I would choke. That I couldn’t throw the ball where I’d practiced. The plays were all jumbled in my head.” He nodded. “If I would have had a mirror then, I would have looked just like you.”

Part of her thought he was ridiculous, but her mind had been focused on the picture he put in front of her. She kept hearing the part when he’d said, ‘When my mom was still alive and my father wasn’t drinking yet.’ That touched her. It got through to the part of her that was having a freak out session.

He continued. “And my dad walked over to me, and he said…” He blinked.

She got out of the truck and stood in front of him. She touched his arm. “What did he say?”

He put his head down. Then he looked up, tears in his eyes. “He said, ‘Sammy, don’t think. Just play. Just play.’ And…I did.” He grinned and rubbed his hand quickly over his eyes. “And we won that game.”

She sniffed, his story touching a part of her.

Putting both hands on her shoulders, he smiled down at her. “So I’m giving you the same advice because I’ve heard you, and you are amazing. Don’t think. Just play.”

Chills washed over her, and she found herself digging down deep. “Okay, let’s go in.”

12

After going in the side door that led straight into the bar, Sam listened to her from behind the bar, on his butt on the floor, with his legs pulled up against his chest. The lower part of his back was stiff, and he’d pay for this position tomorrow, but he didn’t care. Yes, Jared had leaked it. Idiot. But after Jared had realized how upset Sam was that he’d leaked it, he’d agreed to hide him behind the bar. Jared was pleased with the full band that accompanied Tiffany, and the crowd had been huge. At first, they were disappointed when they couldn’t find Sam, but to Sam’s pleasure, they’d stayed when the music had started.

Her voice was fluid. Beautiful. It had that certain something that was that ‘it’ factor. He could feel it. If she were on America’s Got Talent, she would win. He grinned to himself, thinking he would definitely pick her to win.

Thoughts of her reaching out and taking his hand when he’d told her what he’d never told anyone else made emotion surge inside of him. In a moment one could only call an epiphany, Sam realized he’d never felt that kind of thing with Sheena. No.

That had been physical.

He wished he had recognized it for what it was. It’d only been when he’d slipped into the number one spot that she’d showed interest in him, complaining that it was so hard with Roman struggling. She’d acted like she was concerned for Roman, and Sam had been too stupid and fallen for her seductions. He’d been fooled. He thought about those moments when he’d crossed the line and how he’d felt. It had happened so fast. It had felt like getting stuck in the undertow out in the ocean. You can see the surface, but no matter how hard you swim up, the tide pulls you deeper.

Jared stepped on him.

“Hey,” he called out.

Jared flashed him an annoyed glance and then went back to taking care of the bar.

Sam listened to song after song, letting the music and her voice flow into him. Some of the songs, like the one she’d taught him earlier, he didn’t recognize from main stream music. He knew he would have to get his hands on an instrument later and tinker with a couple of them. They were wonderful.

Two hours later, she peeked her head over the counter, her hair falling like summer around him. “Hey.” She grinned. “I think it’s safe now. Most of the dinner crew has cleared out.”

Staring at her with electricity running through him, he grinned. “Okay.” He got up, loosening up his legs.

Every part of her facial features was alive with happiness. “Thank you, Sam. I don’t know if I could have done it without the pep talk.”

“You’re welcome.” The intensity of what he felt for her and how much he’d wanted to help her caught him off guard. He hadn’t wanted to help another person that much in a long time. He’d been so caught up in his own world.

She let out a light laugh. “Do you know what the lead of the band, Joe, said tonight?”

“Tell me.” He moved around the bar counter to be closer to her. To enjoy this moment of success with her.

“He told me I could join their band if I wanted.” She hiccup giggled.

Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arms around her and swung her off the floor. “Yee-haw!” he said in his red neck voice.

She laughed and let him.

He put her down, and then she shoved off of him. “You’re crazy.”

But he pulled her back into him.

The moment went slow and sticky, and all he could see was her lips. He could smell the chlorine in her hair from the surf place, and he wanted her closer.

She put her hand on his chest, and her eyes fluttered. “I…truthfully, I’m kind of overwhelmed…I just don’t know if a band is the right fit for me right now. But it’s nice to be asked.”

He picked her up again, whooping. “Ladies and gentleman, introducing the new star of country music Tiffany Chance.”

She laughed again, and he put her down. Her face was flushed, and she was grinning. “C’mon, let’s get back to Maddy.”

After paying the band and getting her guitar packed away, they piled into the truck. Neither of them spoke.

The no speaking lasted for over fifteen minutes. The radio station was on, and she was singing in her beautiful voice. All sorts of thoughts were going through his head in a montage movie style. There were things that Roman had told him about Brett mixing with things that she’d said about being traditional.

He thought of his own Catholic upbringing, mostly Easter and Christmas types of things until his mother had passed. He wondered if Tiffany would ever want someone like him because of Sheena or, he corrected, himself. Because of his choices.

He looked out the window, seeing everything and nothing. It impressed him how beautiful Utah sunsets were with oranges and purples like shades of protection against the cardboard mountain backdrop.

“Talk to me, Goose,” she whispered and turned off the country station that had been playing some old school tunes.

But he didn’t know what to say. “Top Gun.” She’d actually quoted one of his favorite movies. Now he knew he was falling in love.

“My dad loved that movie.”

He watched the way the side of her lip turned down at the mention of her father.

“I’m sorry.” He knew it wasn’t enough. Heck, he knew there was never anything right anyone could say when you lost a parent.

She glanced at him and then back to the road. “It’s okay.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

He looked out the window, not wanting to talk about his father.

All of this. Her. It unnerved him. It was too soon. He wished he could go talk to his shrink about her because he didn’t trust himself. He hadn’t trusted himself for a long time.

“Sam?”

“So are you going to join the band?” He had to distract himself.

“Ah, no. I mean. I don’t know. Joe said he’s trying to score them an opening spot with this band that’s going on tour soon. I just don’t know if it’s the right time.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you have a chance to join a band and possibly go on tour. Why wouldn’t you do that?”

She let out a long breath. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why?” He asked, an edge in his voice.

“Why are you mad at me?”

He sighed, realizing he did sound mad. He didn’t know why he felt so invested in this woman. “I’m not mad at you. I just…isn’t this what you wanted? To do your music?”

“It’s not like I could just go. I mean, my mom, my work.” She hesitated.

“A shot is a shot,” he said, completely confused about why she wouldn’t want to be part of that.

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not right.”

He stared at her, recognizing exactly why she was holding back. She was too in her head. “Tiffany, you’re good, really good. But you have to take chances and you have to push yourself.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time.

He couldn’t believe after all they’d gone through tonight and how amazing she’d been that she would turn down the opportunity.

“You don’t understand,” she said finally.

“No. I get it,” he spat out the words. “You’re afraid.”