Collaboration (27 page)

For you

Through you

With you

Into you…

I’m speechless. Without her saying, I know that she wrote this song for me. It’s not like I haven’t used songs to vent my feelings before—I do it all the time. But what always comes out is anger, regret, and guilt, and I can’t recall a single one that’s expressed anything close to what Taryn just told me. I suddenly want her to know exactly the way I feel about her too. Not about her body, just her.

Taking hold of both of her hands, I look into her watery eyes. “You know how you were quoting shit earlier?” I ask her and she nods, tears still staining her beautiful face. “Well, my Momma used to say that ‘good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.’ I think that’s how you’ve got to look at it. Taryn, you’re not perfect, no one is. I sure as fuck have made my fair share of mistakes. But you learn from them, you grow, you move on, and you don’t make them again. Plus, you were young…who doesn’t fuck up when they’re young? We all do. And you have to think that you wouldn’t be where you are today if things hadn’t gone down the way they did. You wouldn’t have met me, that’s for damn sure. Everything you just said to me? I’m right there with ya, babe. Except I’m not just falling, I already fell down that rabbit hole. And let me tell you, everything was all topsy-turvy on the way down and I know there’s no way back out. And I don’t want out. I’m happy living down in that hole…especially if we can fuck like rabbits while we’re in there,” I add, laughing when she slaps my arm in mock indignation.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself there. But I really do want you to know that I don’t want there to be anything you can’t tell me, and I’m not holding anything back from you. We’re in this together, alright?”

She nods her head, hugs me again, and we hold each other until the Texas heat has us both sweating like pigs in a bacon factory. After some skinny-dipping in the pond and some love-making beside it, we ride—slowly—back toward the house together. And this time there is a sunset.

Chapter 17

Taryn

Trace’s hands roam across my body while I’m corralling Scooby into the stall. Smacking his hand off my ass lightly, he grabs my hips, pulling me back to him. How this man could already be ready to take me again bewilders me—not that I’m not enjoying it.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” he whispers in my ear and heat rushes through my body. “How do you expect me to be so close to you tonight, yet so far away?” he asks, licking and then sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

“Keep doing things like that and you won’t have to worry about it,” I joke, but instead of laughing, a growl escapes his lips. I’m pretty sure Scooby is about to get a show he didn’t ask for.

“That was the wrong thing to say, baby,” he says, “’cause now you’re going to have to put your money where your mouth is. And by money, I mean…” He doesn’t have to complete that sentence because right then, he reaches around and cups his hand at the juncture between my thighs, where I’m already feeling wet from his words alone.

“Oh Trace,” I murmur, relishing his touch as he rubs me…the right way.

I shudder as his lips travel the back of my neck before devouring my other ear, and I’m about to unfasten my jeans so I can feel those soft hands—without jeans in the way—when my dad’s voice echoes throughout the barn.

“Kids,” he calls and I scurry out of Trace’s embrace, attempting to get myself under control.

Trace chuckles and I quickly rub my ass against the front of
his
jeans, cutting him off instantly. Turning around, I catch the heated look in eyes just before my dad rounds the corner.

“How was your ride?” my dad asks. Not that his expression suggests it, but I can’t help but wonder if he knows his little girl was just about to have sex on the hay barrel in the corner. Guilty conscience, I guess.

“It was relaxing, Everett…
really
relaxing,” Trace answers. If my dad wasn’t here, I’d rub more than my ass against him. I am thankful, however, that one of us is capable of saying something intelligible, because I’m not sure I’m composed enough to speak just yet.

“Good, happy to hear it. That’s a beautiful spot. Right, Taryn?” he questions, those matching multi-colored eyes staring my way.

Afraid he’ll notice the shakiness of my voice, I just nod and give him a small smile in return. My dad and Trace carry on with each other in an easy fashion as we exit the barn and walk toward the house. When we enter the dining room, I spot four place settings spread around the rectangular table.

“Dad?” I holler into the kitchen from the dining room.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answers and I hear some dishes clattering back and forth. Then he appears in the archway and when our eyes meet, he smiles. “I invited someone to dinner; I hope that’s okay?”

“Of course, it’s your house. Mind if I ask who it is?” Please let it be a woman. My dad’s been alone a long time and I want him to have company. Not only that, but there’s no one I already know in this town that I want to see. Before my dad can respond, the doorbell rings and a wide smile crosses his face before he eagerly strides toward the door.

I hear her southern drawl before I see her. When they return, my eyes immediately zero in on their entwined hands before shifting up to their smiling faces. “Taryn, dear, this is Addie Rose,” he says and gently nudges the blonde into the room by the small of her back. Her glossed pink lips smile wider, displaying a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. Her slim figure is accentuated by her casual capris and t-shirt beautifully.

“Hi, Taryn, you’re dad has told me so much about you. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” She puts her petite hand out to shake mine, while her green eyes stay focused on me. She appears genuine, and I’m glad she didn’t rush toward me and hug me, as though she already knows me after only seeing me on magazines or television. The fact that she never lets her eyes veer to Trace makes me like her even more.

“Hi, Ms. Rose, it’s a pleasure,” I say, displaying the manners my dad taught me.

“Oh, no you don’t. It’s Addie. Please,” she insists.

“Okay, nice to meet you, Addie,” I say, releasing her hand. “This is Aster.” I can’t help using his real name—I love the way he cocks his eyebrow when I do it.

They shake hands briefly and exchange pleasantries. I’m not sure if she knows who Trace is and I can tell he’s wondering the same thing, but before we can figure it out, she leaves the dining room to help my dad in the kitchen.

“You okay?” Trace comes alongside me, wrapping his arm around my back.

“Yeah, I think I am. She seems nice,” I say and he nods his head in agreement before kissing my forehead. The two reappear carrying several dishes, and I can tell by the ease with which Addie moves around my house that she’s been here often. We all take our seats and Trace’s hand finds my thigh under the table, calming my nerves.

The first thing to catch my eye on the table is my dad’s famous ribs. He prides himself on his special rub and I make a note to myself that I’ll have to pry that recipe out of him someday. Addie brought a cornbread salad, which has my mouth salivating—I hope it’s as good as my Grandma’s. The conversation flows with light humor and normal getting-to-know-each-other dialogue. I discover that Addie owns a bakery in town and that she moved here last year from Arkansas to take care of her ailing uncle. Once he passed, she took over the bakery that he and her aunt had owned. She also alludes to the fact she brought a dessert and I’m eternally grateful my mom is nowhere nearby so I can enjoy it in peace.

My dad admires her the whole time, smiling at everything she says, and at one point they hold hands on top of the table. I haven’t seen my dad this happy in a really long time, and if anyone deserves it, he does. Addie never brings up my fame or career, treating me solely as her love interest’s daughter. As I clear the plates, my dad stands up to help me. Filing into the kitchen, he places the dishes next to the sink and turns my way. “So?” he asks.

“I like her,” I answer honestly. “She seems nice.”

“I’m glad. Sorry for springing her on you, but I really like her and the fact that you are only going to be here one night…well, I wanted you to meet her. I hope it didn’t bother you,” he says, his face etched with concern.

“I was surprised but not bothered at all, Dad. I’m happy for you.” I give him a big hug to reassure him.

“I’m happy for you, too, honey. Trace seems like a great fit for you,” he says before releasing me from his embrace.

“Thank you, he really is,” I confirm.

“You just don’t let all that media crap get to you two, okay?” He cocks his head, knowing how much the media can dictate my life. I’m about to respond when he states in an even more serious tone, “Taryn, we need to discuss what’s going on.”

“Dad, I don’t want to discuss Weston or anything that has to do with him,” I tell him, grabbing the pie from the counter and some dessert plates.

My dad listens to make sure Addie and Trace are talking before he continues, “It’s not going to go away Tar…
he’s
not going to go away.”

I watch as my dad grabs the forks and a knife out of the drawer before saying, “I know, but what’s the guarantee? Even if I pay, he could still—“ I stop mid-sentence when I spot Trace standing in the doorway. My eyes dart to my dad and my dad’s eyes dart to Trace, as though we’re in the middle of a standoff.

“We’ll be right in, Trace. Can you take this in for me?” My dad hands him the forks and the knife, while I stand there like a deer caught in the headlights. Trace looks at me questioningly before leaving the room—looks like I’ll have something else to tell him before the night’s out.

“Let’s finish eating and we can discuss it in the morning before you go,” my dad says and I breathe a temporary sigh of relief.

The four of us quickly gobble up Addie’s amazing fudge pecan pie. Trace and I offer to do the dishes since they did all the cooking, and I swear their laughter on the porch is louder than the noise we’re making in the kitchen—which is saying a lot. After snapping the dishtowel at my ass every few minutes, I chase him around the kitchen island, laughing the whole way. When he finally “lets” me catch him, Trace pulls me into his arms and dances me around before singing
“Feel So Close”
by Calvin Harris in my ear. I nuzzle into his strong arms but then he surprises me by spinning me away from him, drawing me back, and then stealing a kiss when he dips me—although I guess it’s not really
stealing
if I kiss him back.

We soon make our way to the porch, where my dad and Addie are sitting comfortably on the swing, her legs tucked under her body and my dad’s arm resting across her legs. Trace leans against the porch railing and I stand beside him, letting him wrap his arms around me as I drink in this idyllic scene.

After Trace kisses the top of my head, resulting in a supportive smile and a nod from my dad, I decide I want to go for a walk to the neighboring field so I can show him the countless stars—only visible when you’re out here, away from city lights. I go to grab a few things from inside and when I walk back through the screen door, I see that Addie is now standing up.

“It was nice to meet you, Taryn,” she says, giving me a hug, and I allow her comfortable arms to envelop me.

“You too,” I respond before she releases me.

“It was nice to meet you too, Trace,” Addie adds, and I don’t miss the fact that she uses his stage name rather than the one I introduced him with. I guess she does know who he is. We smile at each other and then Trace and I head out, giving her and my dad time alone.

The short walk only takes us ten minutes or so, and I’m glad I thought to bring a flashlight so we can see what we’re stepping on. I shake the blanket down on the grass and take off my flip-flops. When I lie on my back, Trace follows suit before gently guiding my head to his chest, where I can hear his heartbeat while he combs his fingers through my hair. I love the fact that he feels comfortable enough to take my ponytail out and splay my locks across his chest.

We both lie still, listening to the crickets chirp as the sound echoes through the night while the radiant stars brighten up the sky. It’s the most romantic scene I could possibly imagine, and I wish we could just stay here and enjoy this peace and quiet that we can’t seem to find anywhere else.

“Peaches,” he whispers and I can hear the question in his tone. I start to sit up but Trace brings me back down, though this time we’re facing each other. The concern in his blue eyes makes me wish I had told him earlier. He rests one hand on my hip and props his head up with the other. “Are you being blackmailed?” he asks, those piercing eyes searching mine for the truth.

I nod before laying it all out there. “It’s the guy I told you about from high school.” I sit up, not able to enjoy the closeness with him when talking about something that makes me feel nothing but shame. Trace sits up as well and takes my hand in his.

“Tell me,” he insists.

“I never told Wes I was pregnant. After I had the abortion,” I say, swallowing hard after finally saying the word, “I never looked back. Somehow he got wind of it and has been threatening to go public. He’s calling me, my mom, and my dad constantly.” A tear falls down my cheek. The worst part is that a small part of me wishes he would expose me; then I’d be out of this fish-bowl celebrity life.

“How much?” he asks, his voice tight.

“100K,” I answer and Trace drops his head back slightly, mumbling something that sounds like ‘motherfucker.’

“The thing is,” I say, wiping the tears that are starting to fall freely, “let’s say I pay him. Who’s to say he’ll stay quiet? I could pay him whatever amount of money and then he could turn around and out me within the hour.”

“You’re right,” he responds and I have a feeling he’s been through this before. “Even if you draw up legal papers, there’s no guarantee.”