Dirty Secret: A Bad Boy Romance (Bluefield Bad Boys Book 3)

  “I’m happy for you, Lennie. I know you were worried about it.”

  “Then why do you look so sad?” She dropped the rest of the donut on the table and hopped out of the chair. “Maybe you need another romp in the lumpy bed.” She took hold of my hand to pull me back to the bedroom, but I didn’t move.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I reached up and pushed her long red bangs away from her eyes. “Just wondering how long you’ll be here.”

  She dropped my hand and looked instantly hurt by the question. “I don’t need to stay. I just hoped that you wanted to see me as badly as I wanted to see you.” She turned to walk away. This time I took hold of her.

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I just—” I took a deep breath, and she waited with those golden jewel eyes, those eyes that I’d thought about a million times. “I guess I’m just shoring myself up for you leaving me again. It took me a long time.” I stopped. “It took me a long time to get over it. That’s all. I’m just wondering when you’ll be whisked away again.”

  “There’s no one to whisk me away right now, but yes, eventually I will have to get back to work.” Her eyes glossed with tears. “I asked you to come with me, remember? You didn’t think ten seconds before you said no.”

  “I couldn’t just leave my life to follow you around the country like some lovesick puppy.”

  She spun around. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry, Dawson.” She ran toward the bedroom.

  I stomped after her and took hold of her again. “Shit. I’m blowing this. None of this is coming out right. I don’t know what to say because—”

  “Because what?” she asked through a sob.

  “Because I’ve never loved a woman like this before. And it would just fucking figure that the woman I finally fall for is as possible to catch and hold onto as a falling star.”

  She wiped away a tear. A faint smile broke free. “For a coal miner, you’re pretty damn poetic.” She pressed herself into my arms. “The truth is, Dawson, I have three weeks, and I want to spend them with you, if you’ll have me.” She lifted her face. “I can’t tell you what will happen after that, but I want to be here, with you, in Bluefield, in this little cabin. I might buy a new bed though because that mattress is like mashed potatoes that someone forgot to mash.”

  “Spoiled rock star. I guess I can put up with you for a few weeks. Just don’t be changing my interior decorating style.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” She threw her arms around my neck and jumped up into my arms. “Wow, I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”

  Chapter 37

  Lenix

  Dawson climbed into the car. He’d just gotten off work. I’d recently discovered that there was nothing more appealing than a layer of grit on a hardworking man.

  “I’m going to leave coal dust on your car upholstery.”

  “That’s why they have upholstery cleaner.” I looked back and turned the car around.

  “Why are you taking me this direction? Cabin is back that way.”

  “I’m perfectly aware of where the cabin is. I only got lost those two times, so I think I’m doing pretty good. I just wanted to show you something.”

  I slowed the car as we crossed the infamous train tracks, the tracks that split the town in two. I’d been in town three weeks, and slowly, I’d fallen for the place. It moved at a snail’s pace, and there was grit between my teeth when I woke up some mornings, but it was Dawson’s home. I could see him in the town, and I could see the town in him.

  Snow had once again fallen and dusted the evergreen trees lining the road. “This place always looks so pretty after it snows.”

  He laughed. “You think? Come back on New Year’s Day and see how you feel about it. But bring your snowshoes.” He reached under the hem of my sweater and caressed my skin. “Actually, I’m serious. Come back at New Year’s. Forget the snowshoes. I’ll just carry you around. Or if you have some of those hot knee high boots, those would work too.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “I do happen to have some of those boots.”

  “Perfect. What do you say?”

  “About what?”

  “About New Year’s?”

  I forced a smile but didn’t answer.

  He pulled his hand out from under my sweater and leaned back against the seat.

  “I’ve got a concert in England.”

  Dawson stared out the window.

  “Come with me. It would be fun. Do you have a passport?”

  He didn’t turn to look at me when he talked. “Yeah, of course. I’ve got it tucked away with all my travel photo albums.”

  “Shoot. It’s too late to get you one now. But we will work on that. I’m serious. Whenever there’s time in your schedule, you should join me. We’d have a blast.”

  He turned to me. “This is how it’s always going to be. You popping in and leaving, and me, wondering if you’ll come back or if your busy life will take you away for good.”

  An unintentional laugh spurted from my mouth. He looked hurt.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just that you’re feeling awfully damn sorry for yourself, Mr. Pity. I just spent my three week vacation with you. You and no one else. So if you don’t think I’m committed to this, then—then I’m going to show you. And you’re going to have to wipe that pouty duck face right off.”

  Dawson sat up higher and looked around. “Where the heck are you taking me? And I don’t pout. I fucking brood.”

  “Right, brood. But you look sort of cute and ducky doing it.” I turned the corner onto a dead end street that was lined with beautiful historical houses. Their rolling lawns were dusted with the glitter of white snow. At the end of the street sat a sad but proud hundred-year-old house, complete with peeling white columns and brick work that needed some tender loving care.

  “Why are you taking me to the old Chambliss estate? We used to break into this place on Halloween to see if we could spot any ghosts.”

  “And did you spot any?” I asked.

  “Not a one, but Tommy did manage to nearly scare the piss out of Kellan by hiding in one of the upstairs’ closets.”

  I parked the car in the driveway. The place did look even more dilapidated than I remembered from the first time I’d looked at it. I climbed out, and Dawson reluctantly followed. His heavy work boots left giant, deep footprints in the snow.

  I led him up to the porch. There were some loose planks, but it seemed sturdy enough to walk on.

  Dawson squinted at me as if he was trying to puzzle out why I’d brought him to the neighborhood eyesore. “The owners died long ago, but no one had the money or desire to buy it and fix the place up. It needs a lot of work,” he said it in sort of a question.

  “Yes, it does need a lot of work. Coincidentally enough, I’ve got enough money to buy and fix it. In fact, I’ve already bought it. And I’ve already hired a contractor to start working on it. I was hoping that you could keep an eye on the progress while I’m out of town. Then when it’s in better shape, you could move into it.”

  It took him a moment to react.

  “Dawson? Is it all right if I do this? My bandmates all have families to go home to on breaks. They have places they belong. I was hoping Bluefield could be mine. I’ve never had a hometown or someone to come home to.”

  Dawson still didn’t answer.

  My heart sank in my chest. It seemed I’d made a big mistake, that I’d jumped to the selfish conclusion that Dawson wanted me to become a semi-permanent fixture in his life.

  “I was kind of hoping for a little more excitement.” My voice sounded shaky.

  He looked out at the weed covered front yard. “I’ve never lived on this side of the tracks before.”

  “I’m sure it’s the same, only you have to go over the tracks to get home from the mine.”

  He nodded as if he was thinking hard about that possibility.

  “What do you say, coal miner? Do you want to be my person to come home to?”

 
He gazed down at me. “What do you think, Pixie?” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

  Epilogue

  Dawson

  I grabbed another beer and joined Tommy and Kellan, who were sitting along the brick planter that had been planted with white and pink roses to match the bride’s colors. Kellan looked happier than I’d ever seen him. And for good reason. He’d loved Rylan for so long, if he’d ended up without her, he never would have been whole. Now he could spend the rest of his life with her.

  Tommy lifted his beer as I approached the wall. “There’s my friend who is now living with a rock star.” His words were already dragging on long and slow from the beer. “A fucking rock star, who’d have thought?” He squinted one eye shut and looked me up and down. “By the way, you should always wear a tux, Dawz. It suits you.”

  I stopped and looked down at the rented tux. “Yeah? Shit, maybe I’ll start a new trend down at the mine.” I sat next to Kellan, and we clinked beer bottles. “You did it, dude. Still remember that night you crawled through my window after jumping in the river.” I shook my head and laughed. “Beaten to a pulp, balls ready to break off from frost bite, and all you could say was I lost her. I lost Rylan. Glad she came back to you, man.”

  Kellan looked out across the lawn where Rylan, looking nothing short of an angel in her wedding dress, was getting ready to toss her bouquet. “I’m pretty damn glad too, Dawz.”

  “Shit,” Tommy muttered, “look at us Bluefield badasses, all whipped and bound to the women we love.”

  Kellan and I looked over at him. Tommy nodded. “Yep, I said it, but I think it came out kind of creepy. Too much beer.” He tossed back the beer he was holding, swallowed and stared down at the bottle in his hand. “This is good shit. I guess this is what they drink on the north side of the tracks.” Tommy looked over at us. “Damn, I’m living north of here in the country, and you two are both living on the Highlander side of town.”

  Kellan loosened his tie. “Guess that means we’re not Trogs anymore.”

  We sat silently and tried to absorb that.

  “Nah,” I said.

  “Hell no,” Kellan agreed.

  Tommy lifted his beer for a toast. “Here’s to always being a Trog.” We clicked bottles together.

  “Trogs forever,” Kellan said.

  A flurry of activity and laughter carried our attention to the center of the grass. The floral bouquet arced through the air. Andi emerged the victor. Lenix held up her hands and shrugged.

  “Looks like you’re next, Huck,” I hopped up off the wall. “See you Trogs later. I’ve got a rock star waiting to take me out on the dance floor.”

  I walked across the grass. There were still times when I had to remind myself that I wasn’t just imagining the girl in front of me. Our situation wasn’t ideal, but for now, it worked. Lenix flew home to Bluefield every chance she got. And her coal miner waited for her, making sure she always had someone to come home to.

  Lenix took my hand, but before leading me to the dance floor, she circled her arms around my neck. “When do you have to return the tux?”

  “Tomorrow. Why? Is it getting you hot, Pixie?”

  “It sure is, coal miner.” She hopped up on her toes and pressed her lips to mine.

  Read an excerpt from:

  Moonshine

  Tess Oliver

  Chapter 1

  Charli

  Virginia Piedmont, May 1921

  “They don’t look blue to me,” Rose said emphatically. “If they’re going to call something blue then it should at least be blue and not gray.”

  I gazed out the window at the Blue Ridge Mountains as they rolled silently and majestically along next to us. “Think it depends on when you’re looking at them, Rose. They look sort of blue to me.”

  The steering wheel of the box truck wobbled wildly in Buck’s thick hands as we traveled over a roughly cut swath of dirt. His big red beard twitched, which meant he was thinking. My stepfather, Buck Starfield, owner of the Starfield Traveling Show, was always thinking. Unfortunately, a lot of times he was thinking about a bottle of whiskey, or the gaming tables or food, or anything else that satisfied his huge hunger for life. But plenty of that beard twitching thought time went into planning how to make more money.

  He drummed his fingers to a silent tune in his head. “Should be plenty of profit out here. Those meddling ole women of the Christian Temperance Union have unwittingly showered this area with gold. There isn’t a boy or man living along the base of these mountains who isn’t making moonshine or running it across the bridges to the District. Poor as field mice they were until those self-righteous dames pushed their agenda through the government. Thing is, this area was dry even before prohibition, so they already had their backyard stills bubbling long before the whole country went dry. They were ahead of the game. Now the government’s loss, is the moonshiner’s gain. And their pockets will be bursting with plenty of cash to spend at our show.”

  I unwrapped a biscuit I’d saved from breakfast and broke off a piece. “Especially now that we sold off most of the animals.” I took a bite. “They were eating up too much profit.”

  “Along with an animal tamer or two,” Rose quipped, but it really wasn’t something to be made light of. Nathan, our last lion tamer, had lost a hand during feeding time.

  “Yes, I don’t think any of us want to relive that nightmare.” Suddenly, the biscuit lost its appeal. I tossed it out the window for the birds. “Sometimes common sense wins the day.”

  Buck’s laugh was the kind that sounded like a bass drum, and it rocked the cab of the truck. “My god, Charli, you sound just like your ma. It was her common sense that insisted we lose the oddities sideshow too. ‘Buck Starfield, it just isn’t right to profit from the plight of others’, she’d croon in that honey-sweet voice I couldn’t say no to. That woman could say ‘Buck, eat your boots’ and I’d be slipping my boot off with one hand and reaching for the salt shaker with the other. But it nearly sank the whole damn show getting rid of those sideshow freaks.”

  It always made me smile when he talked lovingly about my mother. As long as we talked about her life, and not her death, then everything was fine. Her death was another matter all together. For the most part, I’d walled that horrid memory up so securely it rarely surfaced. When it did manage to break through, the entire horrifying event would solidify and sit like a cannon ball in my gut. Then I’d push it back out of reach again. “But the stunt show was her idea, and it’s been far more profitable than any of the poor, pathetic creatures you were dragging along for display.”

  “No argument from me on that, Charli. Economy, that’s what we’re practicing now.”

  I looked over at him. “You just remember that when you’re leaning half-cocked over the green felt of a gaming table. If this place is crawling with rum runners—”

  “Like ants climbing a mound of sugar,” he added.

  “Right. Then that means there’ll be temptation and a speakeasy on every empty corner. You’re going to have to practice some self-control, Buck, or it’ll be the end for us all.”

  “Speaking of temptation,” Rose chimed in. “Buck, you need to remind Carl not to put the cotton candy cart right next to the burlesque tent. At the last show, every time I turned around, some young kid was hiding behind his pillow of cotton candy, ogling me through the tent flaps.”

  Still clutching tightly to the steering wheel, Buck leaned forward to get a better view of the road ahead. “Don’t remember this strip when I drove out here to secure the lot and hang posters.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re lost again,” I said. “The other drivers are going to spit fire if they have to turn their hauls around.”

  Buck tilted his head to glance in the side mirror. “Charli, roll down that window and pull yourself out on the ledge to count the trucks to make sure everyone has caught up.”

  “On this bumpy road?” I sighed, and pushed Emma’s head over to Rose’s shoulder. She’d stayed asleep
, and we were all grateful for her nap. Emma had a tendency to fall in love at every stop, even knowing full well that after eight weeks, we’d pack up everything, the tents, the ticket wagons, the mechanical rides and the main attraction, the Death Sphere, and move on to the next venue. But every time, she’d meet and fall head over heels with some man. Then we’d suffer her moaning and crying for the first five hours of the journey until she cried herself dry and dropped off to sleep. What I couldn’t figure was how she managed to find so many men to fall for. I’d yet to find one man who I’d be willing to spend one hour crying over. Let alone five.

  “Watch the holes,” I reminded Buck. “I don’t want to be pitched out.” I pulled myself up and clutched the top edge of the truck as I perched on the door. Verdant green hills stretched poetically across the Piedmont landscape, punctuated occasionally by a jagged outcropping of silver-gray granite. To say the land was lush with foliage would have been an understatement. The smell of grass was nearly strong enough to overcome the tangy smelling engine oil of the truck.

  Like a parade of plodding gray elephants, the Starfield trucks rumbled along behind us. I lowered my head into the cab. “Fifteen. Looks like everyone made it.” I stayed up on the window ledge, deciding the crisp May breeze was worth the risk of being tossed out.

  “See that Model T parked in that field over there, Charli?” Buck called from inside. “See if someone’s in it. I want to make sure we’re heading the right way.”

  “Are we almost there?” Emma asked groggily. Buck’s baritone voice, the voice that announced all the big top shows, had woken her. “I need to take a wee real bad,” she yawned.

  I shaded my eyes with my hand. The shabby, tattered top of a worn looking Model T sat perfectly still amidst the shrubs, trees and rocks as if it was a natural part of the landscape. The back window was hazy, but I saw movement.

  I leaned down. “I see someone inside. Maybe the car broke down.”