The Moonlight Serenade Page 5

  She’d felt comfortable there, shockingly. Almost at home.

  And he dressed mostly in normal clothes when they were together. Sure, he wore cowboy boots, but not the open leather vests or chaps he so famously sported on the poker circuit.

  Behind the scenes, he was just Rhett: kind and thoughtful, intense and controlled. When she was with him, she felt like she was his whole world, that nothing existed outside the little bubble they were in. The way he loved her body amazed her. She’d been afraid of sex for years—heck, for a decade and a half—but she never felt that with Rhett. Sure, at first everything had been so new to her. In the beginning, she’d hesitated a lot, always worried she wasn’t doing something right, but that had fallen away.

  It always felt right with him.

  Part of her wondered if that feeling was because he was so good with women. He clearly had tons of experience. Yet it seemed like more than that. When he’d suggested talking on the phone or texting when they were apart, she was all the more convinced. He’d been vulnerable with her. Even she’d seen that, sharing how he missed her. The fact was, she missed him too, and it bothered her. Way more than she liked to admit.

  The parents around her started cheering. She popped out of her reverie as Dustin broke free from the pack and headed up the field toward the goal, dribbling the ball with a control and precision his coach said were far beyond his years.

  “Go, Dustin!” she shouted, gripping her knees.

  Dustin kicked the ball toward the corner of the goal. The goalie jumped sideways to stop it, but it sailed past him, hitting the net with force.

  “Great job!” Abbie stood as he pumped his fist in the air to celebrate.

  His teammates ran toward him, cheering. Even though it was practice, they still played like it was a real game. His coach instilled that in them, which was why she liked him. She and Mac continued to remind Dustin of the importance of doing his best no matter how low or high the stakes.

  She sank back down on the hard metal bench, nodding at the other parents who were smiling at her in that your-kid-is-great way. Returning their good wishes, she noted the couples around her. Usually, she didn’t much mind being on her own, but today she felt the absence of a man beside her, someone who would be rooting for Dustin right along with her. Sure, Mac came to games, but he wasn’t Dustin’s father, and everyone here knew it.

  Rhett came to mind, and she felt the tug to text him about Dustin’s goal. Her fingers inched toward her purse. Rhett would be pleased to hear about it. He loved Dustin. And it was innocuous enough.

  Before she could change her mind, she grabbed her phone.

  Hey! Sitting here at Dustin’s soccer practice. He just made an incredible goal.

  She looked at the words. What else should she say? God, she didn’t know. Frowning at the screen, she settled for something simple.

  Wanted to share. Hope you’re having a good day.

  Telling him she missed him right now was a bad idea. This was enough for now. Her phone immediately beeped, signaling a text.

  Hey there! You made my day. Awesome on the goal. You tell Dustin I wish I’d seen it. Miss you, honey. More than I can say.

  She stared at the screen. Her throat grew tight, and she had the oddest urge to cry. Sitting up taller, straight back, no slouching, she put her phone away. She tried to focus on the rest of the practice, but her mind kept wandering.

  Vivid images of Rhett making love to her had her body temperature rising. So not appropriate, given where she was. She clenched her hands in her lap to prevent herself from reaching for her phone and texting Rhett back. If they started this…

  She worried Dustin or Mac would see her phone and discover what she was doing. But she was also worried she wouldn’t be able to control her longing for Rhett. When they left each other, she did her best to forget about him.

  The more time passed, the further they pushed this…thing, the less it worked. She was becoming obsessed with being with him and how he could make her feel. If she thought they could have a future, she might feel differently, but they didn’t.

  She wanted a dependable man, someone who had the same values that she did. Rhett was not that man. Nor was he stepfather material. He and Dustin might love each other like crazy, but he wasn’t a good role model. He was that fun uncle who allowed hijinks like wild cowboy rodeos in their backyard and indulged her son’s sweet tooth with an extra helping of ice cream.

  But knowing all of that didn’t stop her from wanting to be with him.

  Her whole life, she had never done anything only for herself. As a child, she’d done what her parents had wanted in attempt to please them. At eighteen, she’d been date-raped by a monster on her second date with him and gotten pregnant. Since then, she’d put Dustin first at every turn and tried to be a good mother. But he was getting older, and she’d been feeling the confines of the box she’d created for herself.

  Until Rhett, she hadn’t believed she’d ever want to be with a man. To experience all the carnal pleasures the body had to offer. She certainly hadn’t expected to laugh in bed like she did with him. But he made sex so fun and easy, much like he made everything around him.

  It had made her realize this was something she wanted in her life. And yet she knew she couldn’t have it with him. The only thing she could do was to enjoy their sensual sojourn and leave it at that. Rhett clearly was enjoying it if he hadn’t been with another woman. What a relief that had been…

  But she wasn’t going to confuse what they had for something more.

  She’d done that once before, and she’d paid for it in the worst way. Dustin had been the only good thing to come out of it.

  Chapter 7

  Rhett had always looked forward to major poker tournaments, like the one starting tomorrow at Foxwoods Casino in Mashantucket, Connecticut, but he’d never anticipated them more than he did now—even if the November wind was a total contrast from the eighty-degree weather he’d left in Vegas.

  Before it had been about the potential to rake in a huge pot and be celebrated as the winner. Now it was all about seeing Abbie. According to his clock, he only had another hour to go before she and the rest of her family arrived at the hotel. She’d texted him from the airport to let him know she’d arrived with Dustin and Mac, who was also playing in the tourney.

  He’d worried she might be a distraction to his game, but no—she was his anchor, giving him even more control and focus at the table. He wanted to win in front of her as much as he wanted to win for himself.

  “You seem to have throttled back on the partying lately,” Rye Crenshaw said, crossing his ankles on the coffee table in Rhett’s suite.

  The country singer was performing at the casino’s Grand Theater, and they were shooting the shit before Rye had to head over for a final microphone test. They’d known each other for quite a spell since meeting at Vanderbilt University. Rhett had been a late bloomer to college, attending after he’d hit the poker circuit at eighteen. Rather than follow a traditional college path, he’d taken courses when he could to cobble together a bachelor’s degree in psychology. He’d had the numbers game of poker down, but he’d thought it wise to learn more about what made people tick. It had upped his game tremendously.

  He wondered if Abbie knew he had a college education. It wasn’t something he broadcasted. Would hurt his image.

  “Did you hear me?” Rye asked, kicking Rhett’s boots to garner his attention.

  “I haven’t throttled back,” he said, shaking the shredded ice in his mint julep like it was a maraca.

  “Bullshit,” Rye said. “You didn’t once look at woman in the bar last night. Even Clayton commented on it.”

  Rye’s deputy music manager also went back to their Vandy days, which meant both of them knew Rhett better than he’d like. At least when it came to picking up on his secrets. “Clayton should stay focused on making sure your concert comes off perfectly tonight.”

  “Why do you think he’s at the theater, and I
’m here? He and his mama make the magic happen behind the scenes. But let’s get back to the topic at hand. Do you have something serious going on that I don’t know about?”

  He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but he didn’t feel comfortable saying anything about Abbie, not when she was so bound and determined to keep it from everyone. “I can’t comment on that score, so you might as well stop your asking.”

  “Good Lord above!” Rye stroked his goatee. “You aren’t thinking about settling down, I hope?”

  “No,” he immediately said. “Can you imagine me like that?”

  His friend rolled his eyes. “Not for a second. About as crazy as me settling down. Still, if you’re not interested in other women, it has to be somewhat serious. What are you doing, bubba?”

  Some days he didn’t know. His friend would laugh his ass off to hear he was spending time with a lady like Abbie. She was way too good for him. Both of them knew it. But she was also too conservative for him.

  Somehow that logic didn’t stop him from ticking off the number of days they’d been apart: eighteen. Way too long for his sanity.

  When they were alone, they were great. It was living in the world together he was unsure about—and that included her boy if things continued between them.

  His lifestyle wasn’t exactly suitable for a woman like her, and it certainly wasn’t for Dustin. He loved the boy, and part of him longed for fatherhood, but he wasn’t so sure he had what it took. His own daddy had failed miserably and hadn’t passed on any helpful tips. Plus, there was no way Rhett could be as squeaky clean as Mac Maven. His friend could show the boy how to be a good, upstanding man. Rhett’s image in the circuit demanded that he act in ways a teenage boy might idolize—but shouldn’t. How could he discipline the boy for behavior he himself exhibited?

  When he thought about them all standing up together, him in leather chaps and an open leather jacket revealing his bare chest; Abbie in one of those Jackie Kennedy suits with matching shoes and purse; and Dustin in plain shorts and a T-shirt, Rhett could almost laugh.

  Except he didn’t exactly find it funny.

  “I’m only seeing what it feels like to be a one-woman man right now,” Rhett decided to admit, sticking as close to the truth as he could. “Last I looked, this was a free country.”

  “I should use that in a song,” Rye mused, fighting a grin. “The only time I dipped my toe in that forever pond was with Emeline Williams, my sister’s best friend. She was the perfect Southern debutante.”

  “From a family so respected in Natchez, Mississippi, I couldn’t wipe her boots,” Rhett said with a snarl. “My mama sewed some of her pilgrimage ball gowns, and she wasn’t kind to her. Thank God you broke off your engagement. You would have been miserable.”

  “I would have been more miserable if I’d gone into the family business of lawyering with my daddy.”

  Because Rhett could hear the bitterness in Rye’s voice, he lifted his glass to him. “Leaving Vandy law school to sign your first record deal took courage, man. I was proud to know you. Still am.”

  Rye knocked his bourbon back. “Getting disowned by my family was the best thing that ever happened to me. At least my baby sister is still in touch with me.”

  “Amelia Ann has spunk,” Rhett said. “She’s going to fight the Southern Stepford system. Just you watch.”

  “Let’s change the subject,” Rye said, setting his glass on the table with a crack. “I’m getting maudlin. You really aren’t going to tell me who the woman is? Gads, it’s not Raven or Vixen, is it?”

  Rhett gave a shudder. “Good God, no! They’re like my sisters.”

  “Whew! That’s a relief. Of course, it doesn’t much matter as far as I’m concerned. They won’t give me the time of day.”

  That made Rhett laugh something fierce. “You’re not their type. If you ever make a move—”

  “Already done years ago,” Rye said, “when I first met them. They gave me the cold shoulder. Never happened again.”

  “Can’t say as I blame you,” Rhett said. “They’re both adorable.”

  “Hmmm…” Rye drawled. “Not the adjective I would use.”

  “Catch me up on other news,” Rhett said.

  Rye proceeded to fill him in on their other mutual friends back in Nashville.

  Rhett kept an eye on the clock, waiting for a text from Abbie. Usually she came up to his suite to see him as soon as she could get away. When his phone beeped, he kicked Rye’s boots off his coffee table.

  “Time for you to go, bubba,” Rhett said, standing up.

  “She’s here, isn’t she? You’re as jumpy as a Mexican jumpin’ bean. Land sakes, boy, you’d better get a hold of yourself.” Still, Rye slapped his black Stetson on his head. “Sure I can’t stay and say howdy to her? I’d love to meet the woman who has you one-timin’ it.”

  “No,” Rhett said, pushing him toward the door. “Go sing your heart out tonight.”

  “I suppose we won’t be getting together later for some carousing?” Rye asked. “Now I understand why you can’t come to the concert. My boy has plans.”

  Truth was, it hadn’t been difficult to choose between seeing Abbie and going to his friend’s concert. Rhett knew it should bother him, but he just couldn’t muster it. “I can see you in concert anytime.”

  “She’s not married, is she?” Rye asked with a puzzled look.

  “No, what kind of moron do you take me for?” Rhett asked, shoving his shoulder. “Married women are off limits.”

  “Amen,” Rye added. “Just checking. You’re not acting like yourself, bubba.”

  “I’m feeling just fine, thank you kindly, and while I’m sorry I can’t make it to hear you sing, you’ll do fine without me. Besides, I gotta rest up for the tourney tomorrow.”

  All he could think about was everything he wanted to do with Abbie, the first of which was kiss every inch of her milky white skin.

  “Of course you need your rest,” Rye said dryly, slapping him on the back. “Then Clayton and I will have to be satisfied we got to hang out with you last night. I guess we’ll pull out of town right after the concert. Gotta get to New York City for the next gig, and there’s no reason to postpone partying in the Big Apple. Sorry to miss you later, though. This was a nice coincidence.”

  “It was,” Rhett said, giving him a nod. “Break a leg, bubba.”

  “Always,” Rye said with a firm nod. “If I can return a word of wisdom…don’t let your heart get broke. No woman is worth that.”

  Rhett wasn’t so sure about that. If there was ever a woman to risk heartache over, it was Abbie. She wasn’t the kind of woman who came along once a season. She was one for a lifetime.

  “Get out of here,” Rhett said, opening the door. “Good seeing you, bubba.”

  “You too, Rhett,” Rye said and headed down the hallway to the elevators.

  Rhett closed the door, thinking about his friend’s advice. He wasn’t in danger of getting his heart broken, was he? Surely, he and Abbie could keep things on the level. But it had to end sometime. They both knew it, though it was another thing they didn’t talk about it.

  Mac was still in the dark about their relationship—or if he knew, he hadn’t said anything. Rhett hated not being out in the open with one of his best friends, especially being that Mac was Abbie’s protective older brother, but she’d insisted they keep their relationship a secret. Still, he felt like shit about that some days. His friend had to know something was up with him, even though they’d never really partied together like he did with Rye and company.

  Remembering Abbie’s earlier text, he pulled his phone from his pants pocket and read it.

  Here at the hotel. Would love to see you. What room are you in?

  Mac had also texted him, and he frowned at the invitation his friend had sent.

  Family is here. How about dinner tonight? Rye’s playing, right? How about we go afterward? I’ve never heard him sing, I’m embarrassed to admit.

  Shit,
he hadn’t expected that. Country music wasn’t exactly Mac Maven’s favorite. He and Dustin loved rap. Rhett couldn’t understand why for the life of him. The music’s beat was too monotonous, and the lyrics would curl the toes of a preacher woman. He knew Abbie didn’t approve of the music, but she didn’t try and control what they listened to, so long as it wasn’t too obscene. He’d always been amused by her conversations with Mac about what constituted obscene. He replied to Mac after considering his words.

  How about we do dinner only? I want to be rested for tomorrow. Late night with Rye and Clayton yesterday.

  That at least was true, although when in the hell did Rhett Butler Blaylock ever talk about resting up? Mac immediately responded.

  Okay. Probably best for my clan. Abbie looks tired, although she won’t admit it. She’s been working too hard lately. Wanna meet in the bar for a drink now?

  His gut clenched at the mention of Abbie. Did she look tired because she was thinking of tossing him aside? Was she tired of him? He texted back.

  Rye just left, and I need to get my bearings. I’ll text you about that drink.

  He clicked on Abbie’s text to answer now that he’d given himself some time to consider his words. Hopefully she could get away. She usually did. Surely her text meant she wasn’t tired of him, right?

  Hey, sugar. Eager to see you too. When can you get away? I’m missing you in 1501.

  Once, he would have made sure to book a suite close to the Mavens, but for these last months, he’d gone out of his way to ensure he was staying on a different floor. Abbie usually stole out of their suite after Dustin went to sleep and returned in the wee hours of the night. Sometimes she looked as uncomfortable about the sneaking as he was, but other times she lit up like a camping lantern. He’d finally realized why. Miss Straight-lace Maven had never done anything daring like that, he expected.