Matched(41)

Lindsey squeezed Will's leg again. And he was near about certain that one was a thank you. "How's the cabin this week?" she asked her dad.

"Peaceful. Quiet." Arthur eyed Will. "Should come on out this spring if you're still around. Have a man weekend. CJ, you'll bring Noah?"

"Anytime," CJ called.

"Right on a pond," Arthur said. "See a lot of deer."

"Fishing good?" Will asked.

"Best, unless the girls come. They get to talking, and the fish go into hiding."

"I don't think Billy's relocating to Bliss, Dad," Lindsey said.

"It's lovely here in the summer," Marilyn interjected. "Have you seen the official brochures for Knot Festival?" She made a noise that would've been a giggle from any other woman, but which sounded more like a monkey sneezing off-key to Will's ear. "Our dear CJ and Arthur are both former husbands of the year. And you missed quite the show watching them compete at the Golden Husband Games."

And they thought his Southern-talk was bad? Will made a note to ask somebody to translate all that later. "Sounds like some good entertainment."

"It was something," Lindsey said. She passed him a cupcake sprinkled with cobbler crumbles over peach pie filling, then took one for herself. Kimmie, Will noticed, was diving into a slice of coconut cream pie.

"It's her chocolate," Lindsey said to Will. "The cupcakes aren't poisoned."

"Lindsey," Arthur said.

"Oh, isn't she funny." Marilyn tittered.

Lindsey looked at her father and Marilyn. "Not something I'm generally accused of," she said lightly. Will watched her in the mirror over the bar, and when shivers raced down his neck again and he realized what he was seeing, he choked on his cupcake.

Lindsey turned to him, brows raised. "You okay?"                       
       
           



       

He looked past her to her dad, then back and raised his own brows.

Lindsey's cheeks went pink and her eyes wide. "Don't-"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he forced out. "You driving home?" He reached for his beer. Would take at least four of those to get rid of the images forming in his head. Lindsey didn't think her dad and the crazy Bliss lady were a bad match.

"And now you see why I don't want the gift," she muttered.

He did.

He definitely did. He wouldn't want to live with that sort of knowledge either.

"You two are simply adorable," Marilyn declared. "Such a shame we weren't able to get the Rural Reality people to come to the Battle of the Boyfriends. The cameras would love you, and it would've been such a boost for Bliss to be featured."

Lindsey shifted, and Will could tell she was working up a good what-for. So this time, he squeezed her leg. "Talked to my people," he said. "We're fixin' to bring cameras. Do a two-part BillyVision episode on Bliss."

Marilyn blinked. And then blinked again. "Billy Brenton, you are too kind. By the power vested in me as a direct descendant of the founders of Bliss, I hereby pronounce you an honorary Justice of the Peace of Bliss."

And again he needed a translation. He nodded to her with a full-on Billy smile, because that seemed the most appropriate reaction. "Thank you kindly, ma'am."

Lindsey studied him, eyes flickering with something he couldn't read.

"I got a fortune cookie that said shame would be brought to my home through the interference of nefarious forces," Kimmie whispered.

Lindsey held Will's gaze a moment longer before shifting her attention to Kimmie. "That's an eventual inevitability."

And even though Marilyn did that devil giggle thing again-and Arthur grunted, and CJ snickered-Will had a feeling Lindsey was right.





Chapter Seventeen



THEY DIDN'T STAY long at Suckers. Lindsey had to work tomorrow, and despite Will's insistence that he could party all night, he'd been tugging at his middle shirt button and getting that lost-in-thought, need-to-write-down-a-lyric look. In the car, he popped a CD into the player-his album Hitched, he said-and they both lapsed into a comfortable silence.

She got the feeling he wasn't listening to the music, but she was. And she decided he was evil for playing it while she was driving.

It was a lifelong love story, starting with a song about a simple guy who liked to hang and drink beer with his buddies, going into "Snow Angel Smiles," and on to songs about heartbreak, then redemption-"Turned," that song was called, dark and twangy and bright and hopeful at the same time-then marriage and babies, with a couple hanging-with-the-boys, doing-country-things songs thrown in too. Hard work and fun and life. She suspected it ended with grandbabies, but the album wasn't done playing when she pulled her car into the garage. This was the album he said he'd written about her.

And she wanted to keep it. She slid the CD from the player and tucked it into her purse.

If Will noticed, he didn't comment. "Nice of you to give Bliss some extra publicity while you're here," she said while they walked into the house.

He blinked at her, clearly returning from whatever world he lived in when he was thinking about his songs. "Fun town. I like it." He grinned then, completely unashamed, and added, "Besides, that whole Most Married-est thing they have going fits the theme for Hitched. Good publicity angle. My people want me to head to Cherish next."

"The love capitol of Louisiana?"

"You've heard of it?"

"We're practically sister cities." She frowned at him. "The Battle of the Boyfriends is a week after our deadline."

"Yep."

"How many microphones does your crew bring?"

"Enough to keep you away that night. Don't even think of coming. My security guys will have orders to restrain you if you get anywhere near the stage or judging table."

Pressure built in her sinuses as though a storm was brewing. He was taking care of her yet pretending like he didn't know it. "Wouldn't be the first time I've been restrained by security," she said, "but it probably wouldn't be as enjoyable as the last time."

His eyes went smoky. "Handcuffs?" he said, his voice on the husky side.

"That's between me and the officer."

He visibly swallowed, and his gaze drifted down her body. "You still got 'em?"

She let her minx side out with the smile she gave him. Then she turned and swung her hips on her way to the stairs. And when they reached her bedroom door, she grabbed him by his plaid shirt, and she pulled him inside her private haven.                       
       
           



       





WILL WOKE UP the next morning to bright sunshine streaming on pale yellow walls. He was buried in a fluffy mound of a white down comforter, and his guitar was in the wicker rocking chair beside the bed.

Write me a happy song today, Lindsey had written on a sticky note stuck to the guitar.

He leaned into the pillow, inhaled the sweet scent of Lindsey surrounding him.

He was officially a goner.

Wrigley nosed Will's arm. He rolled over to scratch the pup's ears. "We got eleven days, boy," he said. "Think we can convince her to keep us?"

Wrigley wagged his tail and panted a smile.

"Yeah, you're a given. It's me we gotta work on."

Will knew how to woo a girl, and he had the money to do it with the best of them. Didn't have any problems seducing Lindsey's body.

But it was her heart he wanted, and that couldn't be bought with chocolates and flowers. Probably couldn't even be won over with a song, not if the whole Hitched album hadn't done it. She still had her ticker locked tight.

She'd always had his. Always, right from the first day he met her. I don't like country music, she'd said with that adorable nose wrinkle she didn't use so much anymore. It's too depressing. He'd played her a song, and he'd watched her discover a world she hadn't known existed, and he'd wanted to spend his life showing her new worlds.

He'd changed her mind about his music, and in return, she'd changed his entire life.

"You think she's happy?" he said to Wrigley.

Wrigley's nose twitched.

"Right. One person can answer that, and no telling if she'd deem us worthy of knowing." Lindsey hadn't been happy on spring break. She'd been lonely. She'd been lonely and lost and faking her way through it, but she'd still found smiles for him. Real smiles. Right up to the end.

But she was still keeping him at arm's length. Even finally inviting him into her bedroom, she'd kept her distance. She didn't look at him when she came. She didn't shut off her brain, didn't let go. Physically, yes. Emotionally-she was still holding back.

He thought on it all day while he worked, some with Mikey, some alone, and by the time she got home long after sunset, looking for all the world as if she'd used the last of the fight in her, he had a plan.

He met her in the kitchen and helped her out of her wool coat. "Looks like all those babies gave you indigestion today," he murmured after pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She leaned into him. Briefly, but enough for him to squeeze in a hug too.