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She stared at the spot under the sound hole where his fingers had worn off the finish. “I told Aunt Gayle that Trinity was with me when she was really with her boyfriend. And I had to buy them cigarettes.”
“She’s eleven!”
“But her boyfriend is fourteen, and Trinity’s very mature for her age.”
“Oh, yeah, she’s mature all right. Gayle needs to lock that kid up, and I’m going to tell her so.”
“You can’t. Trinity’ll hate me even more.”
“Good. Then she’ll keep away from you.” Since he didn’t have the details worked out, he stopped himself from telling Riley she wouldn’t be seeing much of Princess Trinity anymore. He knew now that he could never put Riley under Gayle’s dubious supervision. Riley wouldn’t like going to boarding school, but he’d plan as much of his travel schedule around her vacation dates as he could so she didn’t feel abandoned. “How did you get cigarettes?” he asked.
“This guy who worked at the house. He bought them for me.”
Riley, he’d learned, had turned bribery into a survival technique. It made him ashamed. “Did anybody ever watch out for you?”
“I know how to watch out for myself.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that.” He couldn’t believe he and Marli had denied her something as basic as her own guitar. “Did you tell your mother how much you wanted to play?”
“I tried to.”
In the same fumbling fashion she’d tried to tell him. How could he blame Marli for not paying more attention when he’d been even worse?
“Could you show me that F chord now?” she said.
He demonstrated how to bar only the top two strings, which was easier for small hands. Finally, he offered her the guitar. She wiped her hands on her shorts. “It’s really mine, right?”
“It really is, and I couldn’t have found a better person to give it to.” Suddenly, he meant every word.
She cradled the guitar against her body. He held out a pick. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”
He smiled as she slipped the pick between her lips, just as he did, while she repositioned the instrument. When she was satisfied, she pulled the pick from her mouth and, gazing intently at her left hand, struck an F the way he’d shown her. She picked it up right away, then played the other open chords. “You’re doing that pretty well,” he said.
She beamed. “I’ve been practicing.”
“How? I thought you had to give Trinity her guitar back.”
“I did. But I made one out of cardboard so I could work on my finger positions.”
His lungs constricted. He pushed himself out of the chair. “Be back in a minute.”
When he got to the bathroom, he sat on the edge of the tub and put his head in his hands. He had money, cars, houses, rooms filled with platinum records. He had all that, and his daughter had been forced to practice on a cardboard guitar.
He wanted to talk to April about it. The woman who’d once driven him crazy now seemed to be the only person he could turn to for advice.
Chapter Twenty
June, with all its heat and humidity, began unwinding over East Tennessee. Every night, Blue let Dean in through her balcony for their secret trysts, sometimes appearing only minutes after he’d politely escorted her to the front door from dinner at the Barn Grill. Resisting him had proved to be hopeless, even though she knew she was playing with fire. But now that she wasn’t dependent on him for a job, money, and a roof over her head, she’d decided she could take the risk. After all, she’d be gone in a few weeks. She gazed at him sitting naked against the bunched pillows. “You look like you’re getting ready to talk again.”
“I was just about to say—”
“No talking, remember? All I want from you is sex.” She rolled to her side, taking the sheet with her. “I’m every man’s dream woman.”
“You’re a nightmare of mythic proportions.” With one clean motion, he whipped the sheet off them both, pulled her facedown across his lap, and gave her bottom a firm smack. “You keep forgetting that I’m bigger and stronger than you.” Another smack, followed by a lingering caress. “And that I eat little girls like you for breakfast.”
She looked up at him over her shoulder. “Breakfast isn’t for at least eight hours.”
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