Matched, page 7
Tuesday, she had to wear her growly baby-eater face at two final hearings, and then returned to her office to find her paralegal and her assistant bent over a computer, watching episodes of BillyVision.
She snapped at them to get back to work, then slammed her office door.
And she admitted defeat.
She wore smiley face panties as a personal reminder that life was what you made it. That she could choose to make a positive difference with her attitude and her demeanor despite the ugly parts of her job. But this week, they weren’t working, and it didn’t take a psychic anti-matchmaker to know why.
She needed to talk to someone. Preferably Mom. But since Mom wasn’t an option, Lindsey texted Nat to see if she was free tonight.
Nat had plans—she’d gotten a babysitter so she could hang out at Suckers while CJ worked—but she told Lindsey to come on over and join her. An hour after Lindsey left the office Tuesday, she pushed through the door of the funky bar. Twitter was reporting that Billy Brenton was due to crash Melodies Karaoke Bar any moment now, so Lindsey settled into her normal seat at the steel semicircle bar in the center of the room and breathed in the peace while she waited for Nat.
She didn’t have to order. As soon as she claimed a red leather bar stool, CJ appeared with a glass of white zin. “Long day?”
“There are four more soon-to-be single people in the world tonight.” She put her coat on the stool to her left and her purse on the stool to her right. The bar wasn’t too crowded, and Lindsey sipped on her wine and watched the other patrons while she waited for Nat.
One in particular caught her eye at a far booth. He had his dark hair dropped into his hands, two empty beer glasses before him, and a plate of nachos nearly untouched. Mostly unremarkable on its own, but she recognized him, and she knew what had him hanging his head over his beer.
CJ circled back with a bowl of mixed nuts for her. She slid her credit card and an envelope with a gift card for Bliss’s taxi service across the bar. “The guy in the Bliss Bachelors jersey?” She nodded subtly toward the booth. “His drinks are on me.”
“Your client?”
“Leave my name out of it, would you?”
CJ grinned and took the credit card and taxi certificate. “Reamed him, huh?”
Her boss had. And in Lindsey’s opinion, the guy had gotten the short end of the stick. But she wasn’t paid to have feelings. She was paid to get the best settlements for her clients. So she did, and sometimes she watched from the sidelines when her colleagues did the same.
But what was right by law wasn’t always what was fair in her gut. And though she was glad for all the people getting second chances at finding happiness—be it with someone else or by themselves—oftentimes the journey was ugly.
She lifted her glass to CJ. “Good wine. Thank you.”
He tapped the bar twice. “Nat’s running late, but I’ve got cheese fries in for you.” He ambled off to take care of another customer.
Lindsey had taken another two sips when her anti-match-o-meter tingled. First a long, parched heat, then a winter squall, followed by a dewy spring morning and a flipping rainbow. Her fingers tightened around her wineglass and she pursed her lips.
He was supposed to be at Melodies.
But a body slid between her and the stool with her coat on it. “Evenin’, Miss Lindsey,” Will drawled. “Fancy meeting you here tonight.”
“I come here often,” she said.
He chuckled softly.
She set her glass down, then twisted her stool to face him. He had his back to the bar, elbows propped behind him, which nicely stretched the white T-shirt over his solid chest beneath his red plaid overshirt. His cowboy boots were crossed at his ankles, and he was close enough for her to catch his subtle scent of bar soap and cotton. Her knees bumped his hip when she turned, and she could count the individual whiskers on his face—they’d be the right mix of soft and scruffy, she was sure—but she channeled her inner baby-eater mask and gathered all her inner willpower to fight the intrigued shiver skittering through her blood.
She generally liked her space. Apparently with Will, she liked a good fight more. “Why are you here?” she said.
“Figured the crowd would be too big at the karaoke bar, what with all the rumors about me being there and all.” All his mischief was on display tonight, and that Teflon country boy smile made the smileys on her panties sigh in admiration.
She unclenched her jaw. “Here in Bliss,” she clarified.
“Ah. That.” He nodded. “My psychic told me to come.”
Did he just—he did. He was mocking her. “Do you know what I get paid to eat guys like you for breakfast?” she growled before she could stop herself.
He simply grinned bigger. “Not as much as I get paid for writing songs about a girl’s… smiles.”
Her nostrils flared. Her vision narrowed until she could see one thing—the enemy.
She’d suspected fame had changed him.
Unfortunately, not for the better.
“Hey, CJ,” she called, still glaring at Will.
“Yeah?” her brother-in-law answered.
“You know how you’re always saying to let you know if someone needs his ass kicked?”
Will’s eyes widened. He looked over his shoulder—at CJ, Lindsey presumed, who had Will by a good few inches.
“Letting somebody else fight your battles, lawyer lady?” Will murmured.
“I got time to pop some popcorn and grab a beer first?” CJ said. “Anybody got a video—aw, shit, Lindsey. You can’t kick Billy’s ass.”
“Watch me.”
“Better tell her you’re sorry, Billy, or we’ll have Marilyn breathing down our neck,” CJ said. “Don’t know if you’ve met the Queen General of Bliss yet, but you will. She’s worse than all my sisters put together. And then some.”
Will held his hands up. “No offense meant,” he said to both of them. Then he turned an overly charming grin on Lindsey again. “Was actually hoping you could tell me about the brunette.”
She lifted a brow.
He pointed to his hair poking out under his cap. “The one with the red streaks.”
Lindsey froze. His country boy grin was still firmly in place, but she could see something the rest of the bar couldn’t.
She could see his eyes beneath his ball cap. They were on the honey brown side tonight, with faint lines at the edges, experience and depth and life making him look far more intelligent—and dangerous—than the simple country boy she’d known for a week in Colorado.
“What brunette with red streaks?” she said evenly.
“The one you thought was a good match for Mikey the other night. Curvy. Had glasses.”
Dangerous was exactly what he was. She’d known he was watching her.
She hadn’t known how well.
She suppressed a shiver. No man should’ve been able to read her like that. Especially one she hadn’t seen in fifteen years. “I don’t believe we know each other nearly well enough for you to make assumptions about me matchmaking. Which I don’t do.”
“Might could have a point.” He shifted so he was fully facing her. “Those matches you see—they ever change?”
Lindsey’s mouth went dry.
He wasn’t—he was not here in Bliss for her. He wasn’t asking for a second chance. He couldn’t be.
Because he wasn’t just Will. He was Billy Brenton. He was huge, with millions of fans and probably a couple thousand creepy weirdo fans among them who meant it when they offered to have his babies. He didn’t have any reason to come back to her.
Especially after how she’d ended things with him.
His country boy smile was gone. So was the mischief. All that was left was an honest, serious question about whether bad matches could turn to not-bad matches, coming from a man who shouldn’t have remembered her name, much less her special talent.
The man who seemed to have taken particular delight in poking at her in their few minutes together.
A dark presence beside her made her blink. “Jeez, Billy, I step in the john for two minutes, and you go getting yourself in trouble,” Mikey said. He gave Lindsey a smile that could’ve frozen a lava pit.
Lindsey swallowed and dug deep for a steady voice. “No trouble. Billy here was telling me how much he’d love to be a guest judge for the Battle of the Boyfriends next month. He thinks he can find you somebody to play for.”
“Don’t sound like Billy,” Mikey said.
“I heard it too,” CJ said. Based on the unusual frown darkening her brother-in-law’s face, she guessed he’d overheard most of her conversation. “Said he can’t resist that much love in one room, especially if it’s yours.”
Mikey snagged Will by the collar. “Can’t leave him alone for anything. That booth in the corner open?” he asked CJ.
“All yours,” CJ said. “Get you started with a beer? Supply of napkins for those numbers?”
“Two Buds,” Mikey said. “And you can give the napkins to the ladies.” He yanked Will away from the bar with a clear don’t talk to Billy glare aimed at Lindsey.
Lindsey shivered.
CJ handed back her credit card. He flicked a glance behind her, toward Will and Mikey, then to Lindsey again. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but if you don’t tell Nat, I’m gonna invent my own story.”
Lindsey reached for her wine, but her hand shook.
And CJ might’ve been a big, goofy oaf, but she knew he noticed.
Worse, she suspected Will did too. And she knew he was watching.
She could feel him.
“Hey,” Nat said suddenly. She paused and looked between CJ and Lindsey. “What did I miss?”
“Lindsey and Billy, part two,” CJ said with a nod at the corner booth.
Nat looked back.
Lindsey refused to.
“Sounded to me like she talked him into being a guest judge for the Battle of the Boyfriends,” CJ added. “But you probably shouldn’t mention it until tomorrow. Or next time you catch him alone.”
Nat lifted her brows, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she hooked her arm through Lindsey’s, sister intuition apparently kicking in. “We’ll be late if we don’t go now.” She grabbed Lindsey’s purse and coat and shoved them at her, then went on her tiptoes to kiss CJ over the bar. “Love you. Work hard. Call you later.”
She gave the corner booth a wink and a wave while Lindsey glanced at the lonely, newly divorced guy on the other side of the bar.
He wasn’t the reason she didn’t date seriously, but she’d seen enough people in his situation to be hesitant to get into a real relationship with a man who was anything less than a bright sunny day for her on her anti-match-o-meter.
She felt the sunshine with Will, but she felt everything else too.
Nat dragged her out into the cold night, where salt crunched beneath her snow boots and her breath hung in a neon-lit cloud. “What in the world, Lindsey?” Nat said.
Lindsey had to swallow hard against the lump in her throat before she could find her voice. What she wouldn’t have given to be able to talk to Mom now. “We met once,” she said while she shrugged into her coat. “A long time ago.”
“You and Billy?” Nat whispered.
“Will. His name was Will.”
“Omigod. I knew you had a secret lost love, but I had no idea—”
“Neither did I.” Lindsey shivered and wrapped her coat tight around her.
“Is he here for you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you—”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, honey.” Nat tugged on Lindsey’s arm. “Let’s go have some cupcakes.”
Chapter Six
AFTER TWO FULL days of living on chords, coffee, and pizza, Will had thought getting out would be a good idea. He hadn’t expected to run into Lindsey again. Ask around about her, yes. Run into her, no.
Now that he had, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
There was a chance he was pushing her too far. He blamed her stiff lawyer face. It irritated him.
Shouldn’t have. She was right—they didn’t know each other.
But that fire in her tonight—it inspired another song. The other gals he chatted with at Suckers didn’t put a tune in his head. There was something about Lindsey, something hidden— a secret or their history or the way she held her mask in place when he knew there was more going on under the surface—that inspired a world of possibilities and made him want to get home to Vera.
Sacha was right. He’d needed to come here to find his music again. Question was, would he still have it when he left?
The thought made him itch to get back to his favorite girl.
But he was hip-deep in taking pictures and signing autographs, playing the part of Billy when he wouldn’t have minded being Will. He wouldn’t be Billy without the fans, so he kept his smile on and took his time, but when his phone rang, he checked the readout then excused himself.
Fans or not, when his niece called, he answered.
Will caught Mikey’s eye and lifted his phone. “Be right back,” he mouthed.
Mikey nodded. Will ducked out the front door and into the darkness, clenching his teeth against the wind. “Hey, peanut.”
“Momma saw a picture of you with a girl and she says she’s fixin’ to yank a knot in your butt,” Paisley said.
Will winced and rubbed his shoulder, which had been itching like nobody’s business since he saw Lindsey tonight. “Shouldn’t you be in bed? What time is it there?”
“Uncle Will,” she said, dragging out his name to more syllables than her Southern heritage made necessary, “you’re in a heap of trouble here. You need to concentrate.”
He needed to hash this out with his niece as much as he needed a hole in his head. “How’re Chicken and Biscuits?” Will asked. Paisley’s dogs were usually a good distraction. “They settling in good?”
“Yeah, but they miss Bandit. And you’re changing the subject again.”
Will’s heart gave a painful pang at the mention of his dog, but Paisley’s tone brought out a grin. Girl would be a handful at eleven and a complete Mari Belle clone by thirteen. A five-year-long tour overseas might be a good idea. “Your momma know you talk to grown-ups like that?”
“Momma says you’re just a kid who got old enough to drive, vote and have a job. And a girlfriend. Do I get to meet this one? Momma didn’t want me to see the picture. She said I hadn’t done anything wrong enough to have to stare at the devil.”
Will’s grin turned into a grimace. “When was that?”
“This morning at breakfast. Daddy texted her.”
Will bit his tongue. Both to keep from asking if Paisley wasn’t so sure Mari Belle wasn’t planning on yanking a knot in her ex-husband’s butt, and to keep from filling his niece’s ears with his own worries over Mari Belle giving him the silent treatment all day. Now that he knew that’s what it was. “You liking your new school? Making new friends?”
“Uncle Will, you’re changing the subject again.”
He could almost feel the Mari Belle–inherited I-will-melt-your-skin-with-my-eyeballs glare coming through the phone. “You got a copy of the picture?”
His phone buzzed against his ear.
“That one?” Paisley said.
He pulled the phone away and glanced at the picture message. There he was at Suckers the other night, having a stare-down with Lindsey. But tonight he didn’t care about the who and the why behind the picture.
Tonight, he cared about what the picture saw. The camera had put some sad all through Lindsey’s slender face. And seeing that sad put a crimp in Will’s gut.
He remembered that from fifteen years ago too. The look she’d worn the second day he saw her, when she said she was sure her friends would be there any minute, even though he could see she didn’t believe it herself. And he remembered feeling like the king of the mountain when he pulled Vera out, played a tune that made her smile and chased the sad away.
He also remembered feeling like the biggest dummy on the face of the earth when she dumped him onstage at the end of the week, talking into that microphone for the whole tavern to hear. We’re not a good match. I have this gift—this curse. I’m like a psychic matchmaker. And we—we wouldn’t make it. Not long term. We’re all wrong for each other, like Mari Belle and Ethan. But the point—the point is, we can’t do this. I’m going to be president, and the world isn’t ready for a First Bubba.
She’d still inspired songs, even after that. And Will wasn’t the brightest guy on the planet, but he still knew he shouldn’t get sucked in to caring again. Like she said—they didn’t know each other anymore.
“So what’s with the girl?” Paisley said.
Will stomped his feet to keep his blood flowing. Dang cold tonight. “She might could look like somebody your momma used to know.”
“Is she your snow angel?”
Will swallowed.
Wasn’t something his niece was supposed to be old enough to ask.
Ever.
“Where’d you get a question like that?” he said.
“I got ears, Uncle Will. They work real good.”
He’d noticed. “You talking to your new friends at school like that?”
“Nah, I’m saving it until they can’t live without me,” Paisley said.
Will chuckled. “You’re your momma’s girl, peanut.”
“The girl in the picture? She is, isn’t she? She’s your snow angel. When you get married, I get to be a junior bridesmaid.”
Will reached for Vera’s strap, but it wasn’t there. “Nobody’s getting married.”
Paisley heaved one of those Mari Belle sighs. “I’ll be a teenager before I get cousins.”
“Old enough to drive and vote, most like,” Will agreed. “At least.” And that was his biggest regret. He loved playing for a living, loved hearing his songs on the radio, loved being on a stage and the road, but some days, he wouldn’t have minded going home every night to a sweet wife and a couple babies and fried chicken on the table.
