Wait for Me Read online

  Everyone was having a good time — except her.

  She simply couldn’t get with the program. She could taste the beer in the disposable plastic cup in her hand, and she could feel the music vibrating up through the soles of her boots, but she felt as though she was watching events unfold through the walls of an aquarium. A Beth-sized one that she took with her wherever she went these days.

  It was probably shock, or some variation of it. She’d been publicly humiliated on a grand scale, lost her husband, the future they’d planned together… Her entire life had been upended. It was probably perfectly normal to feel so numb.

  The thing was, knowing why she felt like crap didn’t stop her from feeling that way. It didn’t stop her from wanting to not feel that way, either.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a woman raising her phone to take a photograph. Beth’s flinch was instinctive, her body twisting away, one hand lifting to cover her face. Then common sense kicked in and she felt like the world’s biggest idiot.

  No one knew her here, and it was unlikely anyone would recognize her with her post-apocalyptic haircut. People had come to the ball to have a good time, not to gawk at the World’s Saddest Woman.

  She glanced over her shoulder to confirm her guess. Sure enough, the woman was merely taking a photograph of her friends. Which meant Beth was officially paranoid and messed-up and a whole bunch of other awesome things.

  She leaned forward and set her beer on the ground beside her chair. She shouldn’t have come to the ball. She could see that now. Right up until the moment she’d walked into the pavilion with Jen and Ellie and been confronted by the sea of people and noise, Beth had convinced herself that once the party started she’d get into the spirit of things. It had been a couple of hours, however, and she was officially bereft of spirit. She’d danced a handful of times — only because she’d promised Jen and Ellie she’d dance with anyone who didn’t look like a serial killer when they were exchanging dares in the lead-up to the ball — and she’d choked down a few beers and smiled and nodded in a way that conveyed she was fine, nothing to see here, please move on. But now Ellie had disappeared onto the dance floor, juggling the two hot cowboys who seemed determined to duke it out for her attentions, and Jen had lumbered off in her cow suit to find the facilities…which meant Beth was officially obligation free.

  She could sneak out, make her way to the tent they planned to share for the night and spend the rest of the evening listening to the distant sounds of other people having a good time while she contemplated how incredibly screwed-up her life was right now.

  Good times. She could hardly wait to get to the tent to let the brooding and self-flagellation begin.

  She was about to make her escape when her phone buzzed in her pocket, announcing the arrival of a text. She pulled out her phone to see a message from Jen:

  Going to the tent to change.

  Beth smiled. She’d been wondering how long Jen would last in Ellie’s old costume. It was a warm night without being covered head-to-toe in fake fur, not to mention how much it cramped a girl’s style in terms of dancing and flirting. Once Jen had changed, though, she’d no doubt have more than her fair share of admirers, just like Ellie.

  That’s if Jen was in the mood for such things after her breakup with her boyfriend. It was hard to tell with her — Jen had always been good at playing her cards close to her chest.

  Suddenly the true import of her friend’s text hit Beth: if Jen was heading for the tent, then Beth wouldn’t be able to make her escape just yet. Unless…

  Need me to come, too?

  Beth texted back hopefully.

  Jen’s response took a few seconds to come through. Beth imagined her friend trying to punch out the letters with her oversize fur-covered fingers. Poor Jen.

  Remember the dare, dancing queen. Reclaim your power!

  Beth snorted. Like dancing was going to fix what was wrong with her. She typed in one last message to her friend:

  No sneaking off to bed if I can’t.

  Although she doubted Jen would wimp out. Jen was a fighter, the sort who gritted her teeth and hung in there till the bitter end. Even if Jen wasn’t having a good time, she wouldn’t retreat, the way Beth was planning to once the coast was clear.

  In the meantime, maybe Beth would go loiter near the catering tent until she figured Jen was done using the tent as a changing room.

  The night air was warm on her bare arms as she made her way out of the pavilion. Next door, the catering tent was doing a steady trade, serving up roast beef and vegetables to attendees. Beth decided to skirt the glut of people milling around the entrance to see if she could find somewhere to sit. Weirdly, the crowd wasn’t thinning out as she made her way forward. Instead, it seemed to be getting more dense, and there was a strange energy rippling through the people around her. Frustrated, Beth angled between two solidly-built cowboys.

  “Excuse me,” she said, pushing her way past them.

  She stopped in her tracks when she realized why everyone was acting so strangely — a black SUV was parked to one side of the catering tent, the crowd forming a semi-circle around it. Four men were collecting various pieces of musical equipment from the rear of the vehicle. She recognized the blonde-haired giant with the guitar case first, then the tall, broad-shouldered man standing next to him turned around, a second guitar case in his hand, and three years blew away like dust as she saw his familiar face.

  Jonah.

  Jonah, with his gorgeous, open smile and warm, cognac eyes. A smile curved her mouth as she took in his worn jeans, wrinkled black shirt, and ruffled chestnut-brown hair. He looked exactly the same. Exactly.

  The memory of what their short friendship had once meant to her was so strong, the pleasure she felt at seeing him again so intense, she actually took a step forward, his name on her lips. Then all the reasons he was the absolute last person she wanted to see crashed down on her.

  The tacit warning he’d issued, the scene he’d witnessed between her and Troy…

  She started to backtrack, desperate to duck out of sight before he saw her. Then he glanced over the crowd, and of course his gaze found hers, because her life totally sucked right now. Despite everything — the years since they’d seen each other, the shortness of her stupid new haircut, the sheer improbability of the two of them being at this obscure event in the middle of nowhere — his face lit with recognition.

  “Beth,” he said, starting toward her.

  Hell, no.

  No way was she doing this. Not in this lifetime. Beth ducked between the two men she’d just slipped past, her heart beating a frantic tattoo against her breastbone.

  “Beth.”

  Damn. He was following her. She broke into a jog, dodging her way around a large group of revelers and practically diving head-first into the throng inside the pavilion. Wriggling like a minnow, she slipped between gaps and ducked under elbows and squeezed past backsides. She only stopped when she was entrenched in the thick crowd around the bar, well hidden from anyone who might have come after her. Standing with her face in someone’s armpit, she closed her eyes and sent up a prayer of thanks to the universe.

  Thank God she didn’t have to look Jonah in the eye and deal with his pity. Thank. God.

  Her heart still banging against her chest, she made her way more slowly toward the side entrance. Just in case Jonah was still searching for her out the front.

  At least the crowd’s awestruck reaction made sense now. Even in rural Australia, people responded to fame like catnip, and Jonah Masters and the Rowdy Boys had fame in spades. Ever since their third album had gone platinum two years ago, they’d become the hottest thing in country music, selling out every gig on a multi-state tour across the U.S. before coming home to Australia and sending fans into a frenzy usually reserved for teen idols like Bieber and Perry.

  Which begged the question: what the hell were they doing at the Dubbo Bachelor and Spinster Ball? With their instruments, no le
ss?

  The crowd was locked solid near the side entrance and it took her a while to break through to the outdoors again. She heaved a sigh of relief once she could actually start walking at a normal pace. Crisis averted. Time to escape from here and get on with her brooding for the evening. The great thing was, she could now add Jonah to her list of Things to Overthink. That ought to kill at least a good hour or two before she moved onto general regret that she’d ever met Troy Banks and been stupid enough to fall for him.

  She’d just cleared the line of portable toilets marching along one side of the pavilion when a warm hand gripped her upper arm.

  “Beth.”

  Jonah stepped in front of her, blocking her escape, and she had to dig her heels in to avoid plowing into his chest.

  “Shit,” she said under her breath. She couldn’t believe he’d outflanked her. But he’d always been good at guessing what was on her mind.

  “Good to see you, too,” he said. Despite his words, his eyes were warm, not condemning, and he gave her arm a little squeeze before releasing her.

  He felt sorry for her. The knowledge sent heat rushing into her face.

  “What are you even doing here?” she asked.

  “Doing a favor for a mate. The main act dropped out at the last minute, and the guys and I were at a loose end, kicking around in Sydney, when we got the mayday call.” His gaze was running over her face, as though he was relearning what she looked like.

  She lifted a self-conscious hand to her hair before she could stop herself.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “A couple of my oldest friends wanted to come. It’s kind of a reunion type thing.”

  “Are these the friends you went to boarding school with?”

  She blinked, stunned that he’d remembered such a small, insignificant detail mentioned casually in a conversation they’d shared more than three years ago.

  “That’s right. Ellie and Jen.”

  People were starting to recognize Jonah, stopping to stare or pulling out their phones to take picture to prove they’d really run into the Jonah Masters. Any second now they’d be in the center of a full-fledged crowd. After years of being married to a successful musician, the dynamic was so familiar, it gave Beth chills. This was what fame did to your life — you couldn’t even have a conversation with an old friend in public.

  “You should go,” she said.

  He glanced at the gathering crowd.

  “Have a drink with me after the gig,” he asked when his focus returned to her face.

  “I can’t.” The words popped out of her mouth before she’d had a chance to formulate a decent excuse to cover her reluctance.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not… I’m not great company right now,” she said lamely.

  It was the truth, but it wasn’t the full truth. She didn’t want to be the object of his pity. It was galling enough that he’d played witness to her stupendous gullibility all those years ago.

  “Let me be the judge of that,” he said.

  She started to shake her head, but he moved a step closer, his golden eyes looking straight into hers as he rested a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” he said, his voice low and slightly rough. “Ever since I heard.”

  She laughed, the sound bitter and sharp. “You’re not the only one. At one stage the Enquirer was offering up to $20,000 for a photograph of me post-split.”

  He cocked his head slightly, his eyes narrowed as he studied her.

  “It’s just a drink, Beth. Nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I know that,” she said, too quickly. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Then meet me after the set.”

  He smiled then, and she blinked, momentarily dazzled by the sheer loveliness of the man. He was so warm. There was no other way to describe it. The color of his hair and eyes, the raw, electric energy that seemed to emanate from his big body, the way he looked at her as though she was the only consideration in his world right now.

  “All right,” she said, because some stupid part of her wanted to, and because she knew he wouldn’t give up easily and she didn’t have it in her to fight both herself and him right now.

  “Great. I’ll meet you backstage after our set. Go to the back of the pavilion and give the security guys your name, and I’ll make sure they know how to find me.”

  “I’m using my maiden name these days. Walker.”

  “Beth Walker. I can remember that. Later?”

  He waited until she nodded before turning to leave. He’d barely taken a step before a woman moved forward and touched his arm.

  “I love your music so much, Jonah. Could I get a picture with you?”

  The woman had her phone out, ready to grab herself a selfie with a star. Her eyes were shiny with excitement, her cheeks flushed, and Beth guessed she’d had more than a few beers.

  She was pretty, too, with her honey-blonde hair and skimpy little dress. If Jonah wanted to, he could get her number and a whole lot more, Beth was guessing. He could probably arrange for the woman to come to his hotel room afterward, where she would no doubt be willing to do anything to get up close and personal with him.

  This is Jonah, not Troy, a little voice reminded her.

  She wasn’t sure it made any difference. A man would have to be made of titanium to resist the constant temptation that crossed a famous musician’s path. There was just too much fun to be had, too many willing women, too many lonely hotel rooms, and too many boozy parties after gigs.

  At least, that was what the majority of the media commentators seemed to think. In the early days after Troy’s betrayals had become public, she’d stumbled across more than one columnist who seemed to think that by marrying Troy Banks, she’d bought the ticket to her own humiliation. These women know what they’re buying into when they marry a big music star, one columnist had written. They get nice houses, great wardrobes, a lifestyle beyond their wildest imaginations — looking the other way is a small price to pay for all the bling.

  The memory still brought a bad taste to Beth’s mouth. She and Troy had met on holiday in Thailand when the hotel upgraded her accommodation and put her in the villa next to his. Her knowledge of country music had been so thin back then that she hadn’t even known who he was until after he’d tumbled her into his bed the first time. Living a lifestyle off the back of a famous husband had been the last thing on her mind as things progressed between them — in fact, if anything, his fame had factored against him in her eyes.

  Unwilling to watch the woman plaster herself to Jonah’s side, Beth turned and started walking. Once she was away from Jonah, free from his undeniable charisma, she was tempted to renege on her promise and return to her original plan of retreating to the tent. Jen must have changed by now, and, once Beth was in the camping portion of the grounds, there was no way Jonah would be able to track her down. The likelihood of their paths crossing anywhere else after this was slim to non-existent; she’d never have to look into his eyes and own her cowardice. She could just slink away and only the two of them would ever be the wiser.

  You are so f-ing brave, I can’t stand it. Why not join a nunnery and withdraw from life altogether while you’re at it, you big yellow-belly?

  God, she hated the voice in her head. It had been at her and at her ever since she packed her bags nearly two months ago. The voice was a damned know-it-all, and it didn’t mind sticking the boot in when Beth was at her most vulnerable. In fact, it seemed to relish doing just that.

  The problem was the voice was often right. Beth would hate herself if she bailed on her promise to Jonah.

  Rolling her eyes, she headed for the main entrance. She’d been in and out of this damned pavilion so many times tonight she felt like a pinball. The first band was still playing on the stage that had been set up at the rear of the space and she took her time making her way toward it in order to find herself a decent vantage point to watch Jonah’s set. He had
such a lovely voice she didn’t necessarily need to see him to enjoy his music, but he was an amazing performer. The charisma that he radiated in person seemed to magnify ten-fold when he was on stage, reaching out to wrap around the audience and draw them in. The first time she’d seen him perform as support act for Troy, she’d known that Jonah Masters and the Rowdy Boys were going to hit big. They’d simply had that thing, that elusive quality that was part great music, part sex appeal, and part magic.

  She’d been right, too. Jonah’s days of supporting anyone were well and truly over. He was a star in his own right now, one of the new breed of country singers with huge mainstream appeal. One day, he would probably be more famous than Troy.

  She spotted an empty chair against the wall and quickly claimed it before anyone else could. Once the Rowdy Boys came on, everyone would rush the stage, but she should still be able to see from here.

  She took a moment to scan for Jen and Ellie, but didn’t catch sight of either of them. She hoped Ellie was working her makeover, making that oblivious cowboy of hers realize what he’d been missing out on. And she hoped that Jen was relaxing a little and letting her hair down now that she’d lost the cow suit, because it seemed to Beth that her friend needed a few laughs and some kindness right now.

  The song ended and the band took a bow. Beth winced sympathetically at the distracted smattering of applause they received. This was a tough crowd — boozed up and more interested in hooking up than music. She watched as the roadies swept onto the stage to dismantle the band’s gear and hook up the Rowdy Boys’. They wouldn’t have time for a proper sound check, but this was hardly the kind of gig where that would matter. They were all such experienced musicians they’d simply roll with the punches if the levels needed tweaking once they were on stage.

  Five minutes passed before the MC marched across the stage to grab the mic.