Catch a Falling Star (9 page)

“Justine. . .” He allowed himself to touch her cheek. Smooth, soft, and warm. He leaned closer, and she responded by closing the distance between them.

“Billy. . .”

He froze, their lips inches apart. “Wait. I can’t do this.” He sat up straight.

“Why not?” She blinked at him. “Because I want you to kiss me.”

“I just can’t.” He sighed and grabbed his burger from the bag. The bun was soggy, the hamburger patty cold as he took a bite.

“Tell me why.”

He shook his head. “You’re not getting your way on this one. I. . . I just can’t.”

Of all the nerve. Justine bit her lip and stared out the window. Okay, maybe she was a smidge vulnerable after having a meltdown beside her car on the highway. But when it came to Billy Tucker, she knew how she felt. And him kissing her wasn’t infringing on her vulnerability.

She munched down the rest of her burger. She’d probably pay for it with nausea later, but since returning to Texas she’d tossed her diet regimen to the curb. Maybe finding a personal trainer should be next on her list.

They headed back the way they’d come, and she noticed a familiar-looking car following them. She’d seen it when they stopped in the drive-through at McDonald’s.

“Billy, I think someone’s following us.”

He peered into the rearview mirror. “Are you sure?”

“The silver Camry. Dark windows. I saw it at McDonald’s, and it was near us at the lookout point at the lake.”

“I’ll see if I can lose them.” The truck sped up along the two-lane road.

People snapped photos of her. She knew that was part of the job. Cell phone shots, like the one she’d taken with Maddie. Those weren’t so bad. They ended up in personal photo collections or passed around the office.

The ones that bothered her were the tabloid shots, the ones showing her with an open mouth. Or with no makeup. The worst ones she’d blocked out of her memory as much as possible. Her broken body strapped onto a stretcher. Shots of a bloody stiletto on the pavement. The copies of the police report, revealing her blood alcohol level. Times like that, she felt like she didn’t belong to herself but to people who thought they knew her, who wanted a piece of her so they’d feel important.

“I’ll get on the highway as soon as I can.” Billy glanced in the mirror again. “Either that or get on Rancier in Killeen and cut down some side streets and see if I can lose them that way.”

She touched his arm. “Don’t speed, though. If they’ve been following for any length of time, they’ve probably gotten pictures of me in the truck already. Not that they’d be very good.”

By the time they reached Killeen, Justine’s insides felt like she’d been on a ship tossed by the waves, and there was no sign of the silver car.

“I think they’re gone,” Billy said. He glanced in her direction. “You okay?”

Justine nodded. “Feeling a little queasy.”

They were on some busy back street lined with used auto lots, tattoo parlors, and fast food restaurants. Then she caught sight of a sign ahead:
Boot City
.

“Can we stop?”

“For tattoos?”

She looked at him to make sure he was teasing. “No, silly—I want to look at boots. I should try them on, you know, to see what’s a good fit for me.”

Billy raised his eyebrows, but the truck slowed down and entered the parking lot of the small shopping plaza. “I took plenty of measurements on Sunday.”

“Well, I just want to look.”

He shook his head. “You recover awfully fast.”

“From what?”

“You seemed nervous about the car following us. Aren’t you afraid they might stop and find us at the store?”

“No, if someone is looking for me, they’ll likely head to Starlight. They wouldn’t expect us to stop here.” Justine paused before opening the truck door. “Besides, retail therapy helps me cope with stress. It took me two thousand dollars’ worth of counseling appointments to figure that out.”

“Incredible. You’re not planning to buy anything here, are you? What about the boots you’re supposedly making at my workshop?” His mock outrage made her laugh.

It’s called window shopping, Cowboy.” Justine propped her sunglasses on her forehead. “I won’t take but a few minutes.”

She inhaled the scent of leather as they entered the store, Billy right behind her. The bell on the door jingled. Her heart hammered in her throat. Being somewhere besides the confines of the truck’s cab would help. She walked to the nearest shelf of boots.

“I think those’ll be too big for you,” Billy murmured behind her. “Those are men’s boots.”

“Of course. I knew that.” She touched an exquisite pair of hand-tooled boots. She'd never thought the scent of leather could be so calming. “Which ones would you choose if you were buying some for yourself?”

“I wouldn’t. I’d make my own.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Scratch the idea of getting him boots as a gift sometime, then. She realized the idea was silly. “Here’s the ladies’ boots.”

Since returning to Texas, the thought of having a pair of cowboy boots had grown on her. After her first glimpse of Billy’s boots, she wanted her own more than any accessory to date. Maybe it wasn’t just the boots. Maybe she just wanted an excuse to spend more time with him.

Billy studied the display of men’s boots, and she didn’t think he saw her watching him. He’d been there for her, maybe a bit grudgingly at first and only as a favor to Azalea. But today had shown her how much she wanted—no,
needed
someone strong in her life.

We all need a strong tower in our lives
, Azalea’s preacher had said on Sunday. Justine figured he was talking about the Lord, but in this case she couldn’t help but think of Billy too.

Yet he’d pushed her away right before he kissed her. What was that all about?

Because you’re leaving, that’s why.
She had no other option right now but to salvage what was left of her career, and she sure couldn’t do that from Starlight. Not that there was anything wrong with community theater, but she wanted to be more than a local sensation. Her ego was too big for this place, just as it had been years ago.

Justine at last focused on the boot her hand touched. Dark amber leather, soft as butter at her fingertips. The “uppers,” as Billy called them, were pink and embossed and stitched in a gorgeous pattern of flowers and swirls. The boot straps were the same dark amber as the lower part of the boot.

“Find something you like?” Billy stood beside her now.

She nodded. “I love the flowers and swirls. And the pink, of course.”

“Pink. Um, sure.”

“These would be for me, not you.” Justine playfully tapped his arm. “This is how I want them to look.” She pulled her cell phone from her bag and snapped a photo. “And now, I won’t forget.”

Her heart had resumed a normal cadence once again. Or almost normal, with Billy standing so close. If only things were different. But she had no idea of how to make them so. The clerk was still helping another customer. Otherwise Justine felt like they were the only two in the store.

“You ready to go?” Billy asked.

“Yes. Hopefully whoever was following us gave up.” Maybe the whole thing was nothing. Maybe she’d just imagined it.

She put her sunglasses on again, and they left the store. Even with the dark lenses, she had to squint against the late June sun.

“Justine, Justine Campbell!” a voice called as they crossed the parking lot.

A balding man wearing a tan vest over a white T-shirt and blue jeans waved. Then he held up a camera with a lethal-looking zoom lens. Even from a distance she could hear the digital shutter clicking.

“Billy, we need to go now!” She raised her hand to shield part of her face.

Billy quickened his stride but didn’t break into a jog. The last six steps to the truck were the most painful Justine had experienced in recent memory.

The truck locks shot up, and Billy was inside. The engine roared to life.

“Justine, smile!” The man shouted across the parking lot. “How are you feeling? Have you moved on from Tyler Drake? What’s your friend’s name? What’s next for you?”

She yanked open the truck door and slammed it shut. “Billy, I’m so sorry you’re involved in this.”

He said nothing but threw the truck into gear and sped from the parking lot.

#             

Two mornings later, Maddie sat at the Tuckers’ kitchen table, her head bowed. “Billy, I didn’t think anything would happen because I posted my picture with Justine. My friends were so psyched to see it. Katelyn’s in California this summer, and she got to see the picture too.”

“But on
Facebook?
As your profile picture?” Billy stomped through the kitchen. “And all your friends commenting on the two of you?”

“Now hang on, Billy,” Jake said. “We don’t know for sure that Maddie posting a picture for her friends caused that photographer to show up. Either way, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Of course not.” Billy chucked the tabloid paper onto the kitchen table. “That’s
my
picture with Justine on the front of that magazine. It figures you’d take this attitude about it.”

The caption underneath the magazines photos needed no explanation.

Justine Campbell lassos herself a cowboy? Actress Justine Campbell, recovering in Texas from injuries after her near-fatal car accident, goes on a shopping spree with the new man in her life.

He had to admit Justine looked beautiful, if annoyed. But there he was, clear as day, walking beside her in the boot shop parking lot, his hand on her elbow. They were clearly in conversation. The photographer had caught the shot right before he called out to Justine.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” Jake asked.

Billy rubbed his hands together. “Never mind. I need to go.”

“Do you have an appointment today?”

Billy snatched up his keys. “No. I’m just getting out of here for a while.”

He left the house, trying not to bang the door. Then he paused, looking around to see if anyone was lurking among the cedars or hiding behind a live oak. He was nobody special, just a soldier trying to get on with his life and make other people’s lives easier.

The white-hot rage surfaced, the rage he’d managed to keep at bay. He didn’t know where to go. Home had always been his refuge, but now he felt like he was being hunted. Not one, but two tabloids had published pictures of him and Justine. One had even published a photo of their ranch sign. Good thing their gate was locked with keypad entry.

Justine.
He had to call her, to find out if she was all right. They hadn’t spoken since running from the photographer. What had begun as a memorable afternoon had ended in disaster. 

He wound up at The Pit, where the breakfast rush was in full swing. Maybe no one had seen the photo. Many so-called upstanding people claimed to detest gossip magazines, but every store in town sold them to the citizens of Starlight.

John Caraway was sitting at the booth nearest the door when Billy entered the restaurant. “Hi-dee-ho, Bill Tucker.”

Billy gave the older man a nod. He scanned the tables for a nondescript place to sit. Maybe he could give himself some time to cool off. He had a lot to do, with the Tremontes due to arrive for the weekend.

“Got room here at my table, son,” said John Caraway.

He didn’t really feel like talking, but he drifted to John’s booth anyway. “Thanks.”

Tamarind passed by, carrying a trio of breakfast plates. The perfect woman, right in front of him, and here he was, stewing about Justine. He couldn’t handle the spotlight. He preferred to be left alone. He slipped into the booth and settled onto the vinyl cushion. 

“You doin’ okay?” John sucked down some of his coffee.

Billy nodded slowly then shrugged. “It’s been a tough morning. . .a tough week.”

Tamarind paused at their table. “Coffee, Billy?”

“Sure.” He watched her leave.

“So what’s eating at you? It’s more than a tough morning or a tough week.” The man’s eyes held sympathy in them.

“Sometimes, I get so angry. Call it the PTSD, whatever, but I can’t hold it in. I stopped and left the house before it got any worse. Jake doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand.” Billy looked up as Tamarind dropped off a cup of coffee at their table. She didn’t meet his eyes.

“I know, I know.” John nodded. “It’s been a long time for me, but I remember. You’re not alone, son. Even with the anger. The worst thing you can do is pretend it’s not there or that you can handle it.”

Billy sipped his coffee. “People at church tell me to ‘give it to God.’ I don’t really know what that means. Because even after I pray, it’s still there.” He wanted to tell John all about Justine, and how everything seemed to change for him with her around, and that the idea of her leaving one day was unthinkable. And how he’d let Tamarind down. But he didn’t. His quiet life had been upended that one rainy June night he’d driven to the airport to get her.

“Of course it is. To me, giving a problem to God doesn’t make it go away. I’m just holding it up to Him, seeing how big He is and showing Him that I know He can handle it.” John blinked, his dark eyes looking tired.

Billy wondered what the man must have seen and witnessed, in the old days of the military. And how some people had treated veterans like him during the Vietnam era. Not so much around here, though.

Billy sighed. He couldn’t very well have people—families—visit his cottage on the weekends, not if his own heart was still full of turmoil. “I wish it would go away. Because I’m tired of handling it.”