Page 64 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

But she wasn’t. Deep down, he knew it, and he couldn’t let go.

She was still in town. He’d driven by her motel on his way home, to check for her car. Finding her there had surprised him. She may have said she’d wanted to change, but that type of reinvention looked a lot less appealing when reality hit home. A real job. The nine-to-five treadmill. It might sound novel now, but what would happen in a day, a week, a month? Still, she hadn’t left.

He hadn’t knocked on her door, the exercise in restraint nearly killing him. Not calling or texting had been worse. He wanted to be with her and help her through this upheaval. She had been inducted into her life of crime as a child. It hadn’t been by choice. None of that erased his hurt, but missing her overshadowed it.

He tried to focus on the song now, the ba-da-bum of the backbeat. Not the dull thump of his heart. He made eye contact with an older woman wearing an I Love Elvis T-shirt. He winked at her and curled his lip, giving her the full star treatment. She blushed and cheered. It should have made him feel ten feet tall. Then his sights locked on Clementine, and he almost fumbled a lyric.

Her eyes were closed, but she swayed to the beat, a smile on her lips. Lips he’d kissed. Lips that had invaded his dreams. He couldn’t tear his gaze away.

His baritone deepened. He threw an extra snarl into his lip and a hint of aggression into his tone. You screwed up, he wanted to convey. You hurt me, but I miss you so damn much.

Clementine’s eyes popped wide, and she pressed her hand over her heart. His heart felt like it was beating outside of his chest. Their connection was as strong as ever, stronger than he’d ever experienced. Around her, no awkwardness remained. None of his usual relationship fumblings ensued. She’d done dark deeds in her life. Darker than most. That didn’t mean she couldn’t start fresh, with him at her side. Make time for a life, his father had said.

Could he risk Clementine filling that void?

He performed the rest of the song for her, rolling on his toes and rocking his hips. The stage lights seared his scalp. The front of his hair flopped as he put his soul into the number. For a beat there was nothing but the music and his non-stuttering voice, and a stunning strawberry-blonde who only had eyes for him. For a beat, his pressures lessened.

He belted out the last lyrics, and the crowd roared. Tami and Imelda screamed and whistled with their fingers. The adulation always rocketed his adrenaline, but it was the way Clementine bit her lip and stared at him with restrained longing that fevered his pulse. He wanted off that stage, to talk to her and figure this out. She had stayed as requested, hadn’t forced his hand or changed her mind. Showing up here meant something.

This show was an exhibition only. A way to welcome the crowd. No need to linger and impress the judges. He exited stage left and dashed down the stairs, rounding to the audience at a clipped pace. He nearly plowed into Alistair and Ava.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Alistair said as he swung his arm around Ava’s shoulder. Jack’s ex snuggled into the imbecile’s side, the way she used to cozy up to him.

“Fancy implies a level of class, which you lack.” Jack waited for his gut to sour around his ex, to relive the distaste when he’d realized her affection had been lies. He waited for the memory to reinforce Clementine’s deceits. All he felt was restless.

Alistair crowded his space. “If that performance was anything to go by, you’ll slide into last place with ease.”

He couldn’t rebut the insult. The first two thirds of his number had been weak. But he couldn’t focus on much besides searching for Clementine. If he could talk to her face-to-face, he’d know how he felt, decide if he could forgive her. Something told him if he gave her another chance, there’d be no holding back the strut from his voice. Unless she had come to say goodbye. Offer closure. She could have changed her mind, unable to give up her life. He didn’t like that possibility at all, his visceral reaction confirming what he’d suspected: he wasn’t ready to lose her.

“Whichway seems as exciting as always.” Ava’s disdain was as thick as her makeup. “Do you even have a Starbucks yet?”

The town council had stopped one from breaking ground a few years back, the victory a point of pride with Jack. Ava, however, had preferred big box to home grown. He tried to think of something to say, a brush off that would show he was over Ava, or even a basic conversation starter, but nothing came to mind. Conversation with Ava had often been an effort. He’d assumed it had just been him—his struggle to act normal with women.

Clementine had proved the right person could improve his confidence and help his words flow easily.

“I hope you’re happy,” he told Ava. True words. It was time to let his bitterness go.

The corners of her pink lips tipped down.

Alistair puffed out his chest. “Since she’s with me, the answer to that is clear.”

The only thing that was clear was how desperately Jack wanted to find Clementine. He also wouldn’t mind punching Alistair in the throat.

* * *

“Go congratulate him.” Imelda not-so-gently nudged Clementine.

“He’s talking to people. And he might not want to see me.”

Tami grabbed Clementine’s shoulders and stared her down. “He ain’t talkin’ to people. He’s talkin’ to Alistair, his Elvis nemesis, and his skanky ex. And he just eye-banged you from the stage, so stop your worryin’. That boy’s moonshine drunk for you.”

She was bottle-of-tequila drunk for him, and she didn’t like him talking to his ex, a woman who had dicked him over, according to Chloe. Ava’s curves were stuffed into a strappy pink dress. Next to her, Jack had morphed from swagger-confident to stiff and broody, and compassion cut through Clementine’s nerves. She excelled at playing roles, and she knew one that would help Jack deal with his ex.

She moved before she could talk herself out of it. Fallen popcorn crunched under her sneakers as she dodged dancing bodies. The band played “Jail House Rock.” A song Jack could make a reality of if he chose. Not even that prospect deterred her. Jack’s attention was mostly on his nemesis, but he kept craning his neck, checking the crowd. Looking for her? A bubble of hope rose through her chest.

Inhaling a lungful of courage, she snuck up to his side, pressed to her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. Jack flinched—for a millisecond—then wrapped a strong arm around her shoulder. Like he wanted her there.

She scooched in closer. Might as well take what she could get. “You were unreal, sweetheart. Half the women in the audience damn near fainted.”