She wouldn’t have to take much. There’d be plenty of clothes and other necessities in her Nashville apartment. The only things she really needed to pack were Lacy’s.
Laying the wig, the makeup box, the jeans, boots, jacket, and Stetson on the bed, she began arranging them in Lacy’s suitcase.
* * *
Conner stood in the ranch driveway, cursing as he stared down at his cell phone. He had just climbed out of the Jeep when he felt the phone, which he’d silenced for the movie, vibrate in his deep pocket. As he’d pulled it out, his fingers had lost their grip. The phone slipped out of his hand and had sunk into a deep mud puddle. By the time he’d fished it out and wiped it with a handkerchief, it was as dead as the proverbial doornail.
Could it be salvaged? He’d heard of tricks like leaving the phone in a bag of rice to dry it out. He would try that, but meanwhile, whatever the call had been about, he’d lost it. He could only hope the call hadn’t been important. Until he could either fix the phone or buy a new one, he was out of touch and out of luck.
* * *
Like a Christmas tree with ten million dazzling lights, the city of Nashville glittered in the darkness. Crowded into the van with the rest of the band and their gear, Megan, dressed as Lacy, could feel her heart slamming against her ribs. The adrenaline rush, coupled with an aching sense of anticipation, was as heady as a drug. Tonight could make or break her music career. If the right people noticed her, she could be on her way to stardom—or this could turn out to be just another night, and another show.
The day’s rehearsals had gone well. Everyone in the van was primed to walk out on that stage and perform their hearts out for ten thousand people. Megan wanted to do well, not only for herself, but for her friends in the band. She was nervous, but she felt confident and hopeful. Only one thing was troubling her.
She hadn’t been able to reach Conner.
When she’d failed to hear from him, she’d called from the airport. Nothing. Was he all right? Was he angry at her for some reason?
She’d tried again this morning, with no luck. After that, she’d had to turn off her phone and focus on the rehearsal. During the break, she’d checked again. No messages. Nothing. By then, she was really getting worried. She’d even called her mother. No, Dorcas hadn’t heard from Conner. Yes, if he called, she would give him Megan’s message.
Now all Megan could do was put him out of her mind and give her all to her performance, which was as important to her friends in the band as it was to her. She couldn’t let them down. Even her worries about Conner couldn’t be allowed to distract her.
They parked at the rear of the building and came in through the stage entrance. While the Badger Hollow Boys set up on the open stage, Megan loosened up in the wings and watched the seats fill. The Christmas-themed concert was a sellout. Rascal Flatts were superstars. But the Badger Hollow Boys and Miss Lacy Leatherwood would be new to most of the audience. They would have less than thirty minutes to make a lasting impression.
She checked her watch. Almost time. She could feel the sweat beneath the leather jacket and silk blouse. Her pulse was racing. She took a deep breath, heard the drumroll and announcer’s booming voice over the PA system. Then, as the band exploded into its intro, Lacy Leatherwood strutted onto the stage.
The next half hour was a blur. Only when it was over did she realize the audience was cheering and the crew was hastily clearing the stage for the main act. She made it backstage before her knees began to shake.
Leaning against a wall for support, she willed herself to breathe, willed her galloping pulse to slow. Had she forgotten any of the lyrics? Had she hit any sour notes? Heaven help her, she couldn’t remember.
“Hey, you did great, Megan!” Tucker was slapping her shoulder, giving her a brotherly hug. “You nailed it, lady. You knocked ’em dead!”
“You’re joking, right?” Megan stared at him in disbelief.
“Why should I joke? We wowed that audience tonight. Come on.” He tugged at her arm. “We’re going out for drinks to celebrate.”
Still dazed, Megan followed her friend toward the back door, where the musicians were putting away their instruments. The relief was slowly sinking in. The performance had been a success. She’d done all right, but she didn’t feel much like celebrating, especially if it involved alcohol. After the long night of travel, the day of rehearsals, and the adrenaline rush of performing, exhaustion was catching up with her.
Besides, there was only one person she wanted to celebrate with. And he was out of reach.
The band members were carrying their packed instruments and gear out to the van. Maybe she would just ask them to drop her off at her apartment. From there, she would try one more call to Conner. Then she would go to bed, catch the morning flight back to Amarillo, and drive back to Branding Iron—and Conner. She could only hope that he was all right.
Meanwhile, she had a great deal of thinking to do and a big decision to make.
“Coming, Megan?” Joe, the drummer, stood framed in the outside doorway with the lights of the parking lot behind him. “We’re almost done loading the van.”
“Thanks, I’ll be right there.” Megan headed down the hallway to the door. The wig felt itchy on her head. She could hardly wait to get home and get rid of the hair, makeup, boots, and skintight jeans. “I’m pretty beat, guys,” she said, stepping outside. “I couldn’t handle a night of celebrating. I hope you won’t mind just dropping me off at my apartment.”
“They won’t need to drop you off, Megan.” A tall, familiar figure stepped out of the shadows. “I’ll take you home.”
Megan’s heart sank. She should have known Derek would show up.
“Come on.”
* * *
With his hand at the small of her back, he guided her firmly toward his big white Cadillac. Megan was too tired to argue. She wasn’t afraid of the man. But she was in no mood for one of his interminable lectures.