"Yes. Can something be done about it?"
"You betcha." He pulled out a sawn-off oar from beneath the bar and raised it in the air over his head.
"Whoa, whoa,whoa! I don't want him beaten up."
He grinned at her. "I'm not gonna hit him. This is just to signal Bubba."
"Who's Bub-Whoa."
A man the size of a refrigerator appeared next to her, and Wayne jutted his chin toward Jared, who was sitting down the bar a ways, killing off a bowl of peanuts. "Man in the white shirt is bothering the lady here," he said softly.
"I'm sorry about that, ma'am," Bubba said in a quiet, surprisingly high-pitched voice as he politely inclined his head to P.J. "I'll see to it he doesn't do that again."
"Without violence, right?"
"Yes, ma'am." He started to turn away, then turned back and gave the front of his white straw cowboy hat a courteous tug. "Enjoyed your singing."
"Thank you." She turned bemused eyes to Wayne as Bubba ambled away. "Big boy."
"Oh, yeah."
They both watched as Bubba walked up to Jared, leaned down and said something in his ear. Jared turned his head to stare at P.J., his face impassive but eyes hot, before nodding and climbing to his feet. He dropped a couple of bills on the bar then strode across the room and out the front door.
Take that,she thought, watching until the door closed behind him.How do youlike being the one with no power over what's happening to you? She turned back to Wayne. "You have any bottled water?"
"Sure."
"Let me have one of those, wouldja? I need something to sip onstage." She wasn't stupid-she knew she hadn't gotten rid of Jared permanently. But for the moment at least he wasn't sitting there raining on her parade. She was used to being in charge of her life, but too many things had been happening lately without her input. It had to stop.
And to that end, she felt as if she'd taken her first steps. Maybe only baby steps, but it felt good all the same to be proactive again. Her heart regained some of the lightness she'd been feeling before Jared had ruined her mood.
By the time she and Cold Creek closed down their final set at close to two in the morning she was flying high. She talked to the band while they broke down the drums and packed the stringed instruments in their cases. But when they invited her to join them for an after-hours drink, she declined. The shot she'd tossed back before the first set had long worn off, but she didn't think it was a good idea to have another drink just before she climbed behind the wheel. Plus she wanted to get out of town before the press got wind of tonight's gig and hunted her down-but she could use a few hours' sleep first. So she thanked them, thanked Burt and Wayne and Bubba, and headed out to the nearly empty lot.
Jared's SUV was still parked across the lot, but she shrugged and headed for her truck. If her luck held, maybe she'd make it back to the hotel and gain her room without having to talk to him. Laughing, she dashed to her pickup. So far, so good. No headlights flashed on the Lexus and its engine didn't fire up. She unlocked the driver's side and opened the door.
"Took you long enough."
"Holy crap!" Her breath exploded from her lungs and her heart slammed up against the wall of her chest. She slapped a hand to her breast to contain it. Seeing Jared lounging on his tailbone on the passenger side of the bench seat, a black felt cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes and his long legs crossed at the ankle and propped up on the dashboard by the steering wheel, made her good cheer go up in smoke. "What are youdoing here? How did you get in? And where did you get that hat?"
"Waiting for you. Picked the lock. And I found the hat behind the seat. I look pretty hot in it, don't I?"
He did, dammit. "The color's appropriate, anyhow."
"Bad guy, black hat?"
"Why, yes, now that you mention it." She gave him her best wide-eyed innocent look, as if that wasn't exactly what she'd implied.
"At least I know enough to look inside a vehicle before I climb in."
She rolled her eyes. "So do you often help yourself to other men's stuff?"
His eyes were a now-you-see-it-now-you-don't gleam beneath the brim. "Can't say that I do. But I had lots of time to kill, and when I found this-" he touched a lazy finger to the hat's brim "-I realized I need a nice Stetson if I'm going to be on a country-music tour. Want to fit in, don'tcha know."
"Well, get your own. That one's Hank's. And it's not a Stetson, city boy. It's a Resistol." She smacked his calf. "Get your feet off my dash." When he complied, she climbed in and closed the door. The overhead light blinked off.
"Who's Hank? Your boyfriend?"
"My fiddle player."
Jared didn't know why he gave a damn one way or the other, but he was glad to hear it belonged to a member of her band. He looked at her as she fired up her truck. She had pretty skin; it looked creamy even washed by the faint green-and-gold glow thrown off by the dash. He cleared his throat. "You okay to drive?"
"Sure. I had one drink when we first got here, but I sweated it all out by the time we finished the first set." Putting the pickup in gear, she released the brake.
And drove the hundred yards to the other side of the lot, where she stopped next to his Lexus. "Don't let the door hit you in the butt."
"You seem to say that to me a lot," he said, fishing his keys from his pocket and climbing out. He leaned in to speak to her through the crack in the window. "Lock your damn doors, okay? I'll see you back at the hotel."
She made a rude noise, and the minute he stepped back, she peeled away, leaving the smell of scorched rubber and exhaust in her wake.
He just grinned, because he'd had plenty of time to study his map while he'd waited for her. Driving hell for leather on the alternate route he'd memorized, he made it to the hotel ahead of her. He collected his room key, detoured through the coffee shop to grab a handful of spoons and forks off the table nearest the door and was in time to smile at P.J.'s disgruntlement when he stepped onto the elevator with her. "Deja vu."
"Ha-ha." She eyed the leather satchel in his hand and the canvas backpack slung by one strap from his shoulder. But it was his fistful of cutlery that she addressed. "You're stealing hotel silverware? What, you lose your trust fund or something?"
"Nah. I gave it away."
She pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning against. "You gave away all your money?"
"Not all of it. Just the lion's share."
She stared at him openmouthed. "But that's:that is so-"
"Philanthropic? Altruistic? Unbelievably generous?"
"Nuts.That's just plain nuts. A person has to work too damn hard for his money to just give it all away."
He shrugged. "I didn't earn the money that I donated to charity. It came, as you so astutely pointed out, from a trust fund set up by my father and from the bearer bonds that got him killed. Or maybe you didn't hear about the latter." A tinge of bitterness he couldn't prevent entered his tone. "After all, you'd taken a powder by then, hadn't you?"
She tipped her head so he could no longer see her eyes in the shadow of her hat brim. "I did so hear," she muttered.
The car arrived at their floor and he waved her out ahead of him. She stepped into the alcove with alacrity but then hesitated and turned back to him. "I'm sorry," she said grudgingly.
"Are you? What for?"
"For making those rich-boy cracks."
He laughed. "Honey, I'm still rich. I'm just not obscenely wealthy like I was before." He followed her off the elevator.
She backed up a step. "What are you doing?"
"Would you believe walking you to your door?"
"This isn't a date! I don't need to be walked to my door."
"In that case, I'm walking me to mine."
She blew out an aggravated breath. "Fine. Whatever. I'm too tired to figure out your riddles. I'm going to bed." She turned on her heel and stalked off.