Billionaire Country

“So anyway, it was a one-night deal. Their lead singer came down with something and couldn’t perform. Mr. Jake introduced me to ’em—the band, I mean. Come dark, there I was, front’n center on the stage.”

“Okay?” He wondered if maybe one of the band members was responsible for her current condition.

“That night I was singin’ my heart out and there was a guy sittin’ there at a table. He was downright good-lookin’, if you know what I mean?” She cut her eyes toward him and winked. “Not as handsome as you, but dang close. Anyway, he bought me a drink. And then another. And so on, until...well, you get my drift.” She paused and waggled her finger in his direction. “Now, I might not be a good girl, but I ain’t normally stupid, even if I’ve drunk way more whiskey than is good for me. We took precautions but...” She sighed. “Sometimes, stuff happens. Come mornin’, he went his way while I went mine.”

“Uh-huh.” Tucker was fascinated, despite his better judgment.

“Well, due to circumstances...” She patted her belly. “That stuff happened. I bought a test to confirm it.”

Tucker had the insane urge to touch her belly. “It was obviously positive.”

“Yup. So, I went lookin’ for the man. I figured he had the right to know, seein’ as he was the daddy and all.” She glanced over at him. “I mean, wouldn’t you want to know?”

He considered the question. “Yes, I would.”

“Took me two months to track Redmond down, and by then, it was a little late to be doin’ anything about the situation.” Her chin rose in a stubborn jut. “Not that I would have, even if that’s what he wanted. That solution is fine for some people, but not me.” She rubbed her belly with one hand, a gesture both protective and soothing, and one Tucker thought she was unaware of. He found it...endearing.

“So...” Tuck stretched out the word. “You wanted him to marry you?”

“Oh, hell no! I mean really, it’s not like love had a thing to do with it.” She inhaled deeply and breathed out slowly. “And I wasn’t out to trap him. I’m not that kind of woman.”

Given that she was running away from her wedding, obviously not. Tucker said as much. “Since you’re here with me and not on your honeymoon, I sort of figured that.”

Zoe blinked rapidly at him. “I told you my life has turned into a soap opera. Are you sure you want to know all this?”

At his nod, she continued. “I didn’t discover until too late that I shoulda just hightailed it outta there. Redmond let on that he was prouder than a bantam rooster about bein’ a daddy, but did he take care of me or help with doctor bills? Nope. That sonavagun dragged me all over the South, stallin’ every step of the way.” She dropped her voice as she mimicked. “Just one more job, baby girl, then I’ll give you some money.” She rolled her eyes and grimaced. “I plead pregnancy hormones because if I’d been in my right mind, I would have ditched that man way before I did.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t hide the dubious tone in his voice.

“Trust me, I’m serious. Anyway, we were down in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.” She started to say more but caught herself. “Let’s just say things went downhill. He turned out to be a...well, Redmond liked the ladies. A lot. And it got him in a whole heap of trouble.”

Tucker didn’t like the way her voice sounded. “What kind of trouble?”

“Unbeknownst to me, he took up with another man’s wife. And got caught with his britches down. T’make a long and sordid story short, there was a shoot-out. Red walked away. The husband didn’t.”

She heaved out a sigh and rubbed her side. Tucker waited, silent now. This was quite a tale, but he felt the urge to reach over and take her hand, to tell her that everything would be okay.

“I was ready to take off as soon as he was arrested, but Etta Smithee, his momma, had different ideas. She made me stay in Tuscaloosa for the duration. Sat me down in the front row, right there behind her baby boy every day of that trial. She bought me all these frilly maternity clothes and there I sat, day after day, lookin’ and feelin’ like a fool. I didn’t love that man, and he deserved to be sent to prison for killin’ that boy.”

“I...” Tucker paused. What could he say?

She favored him with a sidelong but understanding look before continuing. “As soon as the jury read the verdict, I was ready to hit the road. Before I could go, Miz Smithee got all sweet, sayin’ it was up to her and the Smithee family to look after me and the baby. Things were fine until she decided to make an honest woman of me. Since I wouldn’t marry Red, I’d just have to marry Norbert, his brother.” She issued a long-suffering sigh. “Mama Smithee wants all her chicks in a row and all her loose ends tied up. And those loose ends would be me and Baby Bugtussle here.”

Tucker tried to wrap his brain around this information, failed and gave up. “Why would she want you married to Norbert?”

“That woman is covered in crazy sauce. She decreed that her first grandbaby should have the Smithee name, and I should just be dancin’ with joy to marry Norbert. Like any smart woman, I hitched up my skirts and hightailed it out of town first opportunity I got. I went back to singing and was doin’ pretty good despite the extra baggage.” She patted her belly, a big smile curling up the corners of her mouth—a mouth Tucker found most intriguing. “I got a job in Gatlinburg. I had no idea the Smithees roosted around there. There I am, strummin’ my guitar and singin’ a Miranda Lambert song and who walks in the door?”

“Norbert.”

“Got it in one, slick.” She winked at him, but her smile faded and a haunted look filled her eyes. Tucker tensed, not sure he wanted to hear the rest. “Next thing I know, he’s stuffin’ me in his old truck and drivin’ like a bat outta hell straight to his momma’s house. That woman locked me up in a bedroom until she could—” Zoe paused and formed air quotes with her fingers. “Make arrangements.”

“Did those arrangements include that...dress?” He wanted to banish the ghosts lingering in her eyes so he tried her trick of making a joke.

“Absolutely.” She squirmed a little and sighed. “Speakin’ of, got any idea how far it is to the next gas station so I can change clothes? And...” She pressed her side and stiffened a little. “This little sucker just loves stompin’ on my bladder. I could use a rest stop.” She blew out a breath. “Sooner than later.”

Tucker couldn’t decide how much of Zoe’s tale was fact and how much was fiction. He had to admire what his mom would call gumption. She was all alone and he caught a hint of the distress she tried so hard to hide. She was sweet and funny and he wanted to protect her, as inexplicable as that seemed, considering they’d just met. He resisted reaching for her hand. Again.

In the back of his mind, a thought formed—he should have his brother, Bridger, who worked for their cousin Cash Barron at Barron Security Services, look into the Smithees. Out loud, he said, “I think I can manage to fulfill that request.”

* * *

Zoe stashed the hated wedding dress in the dumpster behind the truck stop and finally felt like herself. Struggling out of the darn thing, even in the handicapped stall, had been an exercise in futility. Surrendering, she just ripped at it until all the buttons popped, pinging off the metal walls like BBs. The tussle left her dizzy, and she had to sit on the commode and gather herself for a moment before she could pull on yoga pants. Topping them with an oversize T-shirt and slipping her swollen feet into flip-flops was pure indulgence. The hideous dress had been gag inducing. The cheap boots followed the dress into the trash.

Grabbing her duffel, Zoe schlepped back toward the store portion of the truck stop. She had just enough cash to grab something cold to drink and maybe a sandwich. She’d locate Tucker and then they could hit the road again. She reached the back door but hesitated to open it, opting instead to peer through the glass. She froze. Two Smithee cousins stood in the checkout line. Could Etta Smithee be far behind?

She ducked away from the door. Pressing her back against the sun-warmed concrete wall, Zoe breathed through the panic. She couldn’t go inside to grab Tucker. What to do? What to do? Think, think, think. She needed her guitar. Which was locked in the trunk of Tucker’s car. She shifted just enough to peek through the glass door. The cousins were still there but there was no sign of Tucker.

Edging along the wall to the corner of the building, Zoe checked the busy parking lot. Tucker had parked away from everyone else. That was a good thing. The T-Bird couldn’t be seen from inside the store. She located a rust-bucket pickup she’d seen parked at the church. The truck was empty. The minute those two saw her, the jig would be up, but if Tucker would come out, they could escape unnoticed. She was running out of time and options. Fast.

Zoe glanced at the big semis idling in the truck lot. Maybe she could hitch a ride. But that meant leaving her guitar behind. And Tucker. Leaving him behind didn’t seem like much of a solution. Which was dumb because that man owed her nothing and would probably turn her over to Etta and Norbert just on principle. Too bad he was so pretty. And manly. And made her think of things no woman within a month or so of giving birth should be considering.

But Zoe didn’t truly believe Tucker would hand her over to the Smithees. That meant she had only one option. Wait for Tucker. Sneaking over to the T-Bird without looking like she was skulking through the parking lot wasn’t all that easy. Worried other Smithees might be around, she ducked down on the driver’s side of the classic car. Too bad it was so low-slung. Sexy, yes, but dang hard to hide behind.

“C’mon,” she murmured, sending vibes winging toward Tucker—not that she believed in any of that woo-woo stuff. But five minutes later, her headache-inducing concentration worked. Tucker, holding a plastic bag, stepped out of the store and looked toward where he’d parked the T-Bird. Zoe watched his brow knit as he glanced back inside. That was her cue. She popped her head up, put two fingers in her mouth and issued a piercing whistle. His head jerked back toward her and she waved him over, her arm flailing, as she climbed in.

As he walked up to the passenger door—the side of the car nearest the store, she pleaded, “I need the keys.” She gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled strength so Tucker wouldn’t see how badly her hands shook. When he didn’t respond fast enough, she added, “Get in. Please! We have to move fast.”

He stared at her very pregnant belly crammed against the steering wheel and raised a brow. Okay, he might have a point as she tended to waddle when on foot, but she was driving, and they had a need for speed.

“How can you—”

“C’mon, rich boy. We gotta go and go now!”

The doors behind him opened and shouts echoed over the growls of idling diesel engines. Tucker glanced around, saw two men bearing down on them. He tossed the keys to Zoe and she managed to get the right one inserted into the ignition as Tucker vaulted into the passenger seat. Zoe floored the accelerator before he got settled. Thank goodness Tucker had backed into the parking space.

The men lumbered after them but gave up within a few yards, turned and trotted to their truck as Zoe watched through the rearview mirror.

“Pull over,” Tucker ordered.

“Not until we lose them.” She was adamant.

“Who are those guys?”

“They woulda been my in-laws, if I hadn’t run like hell.” She pressed back against the seat and fought the car around a tight curve, refusing to slow down. “Well, sort of. They’re Norbert’s cousins. Won’t be long until Etta and him will be on our trail.”

Tucker reached over, placing a hand over hers on the steering wheel. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

Her eyes filled with tears that she blamed on the wind, since she’d forgotten her sunglasses again. And she ignored the twinge in her chest where her heart beat in loud thumps. Tucker was just a nice man helping out a stranded woman in trouble. That’s all. Nothing more. But no man had ever said those words to her and meant them. She didn’t have to swipe at the tear on her cheek. Tucker did it for her with a gentle fingertip.

“We got this, sweetheart.” He rummaged in her duffel and pulled out her sunglasses. Then he reached into his plastic bag. He gave her a wink and a grin. “Wouldn’t be a road trip without junk food.”

Three

Tucker let Zoe drive as she seemed to have some clue about their location. She didn’t pop the clutch when she shifted gears, instinctively braked before hitting the curves, then powered through them by accelerating. The day was sunny, not too warm, and her not-quite-in-laws were way behind them. Besides, by not driving, he could study his runaway bride.

Zoe was pretty, though not in the beauty queen sense. Her eyes, hidden now behind big sunglasses, were a deep chocolate brown. Her chin was too long, her mouth too wide but not full and her nose tipped up on the end. Her long, dark brown hair fell in twisty—and hair-sprayed—curls down over her cleavage. There was just something wrong with him for thinking about her in any sort of sexual way, but he couldn’t help himself. She wasn’t the sort of woman he normally would be attracted to, yet he was. She exuded a sweet vulnerability that called to him.

Her accent was thick enough—and country enough—he could cut it with a knife. He had a Harvard MBA and remembered all too acutely the disdain he’d received there for his Okie accent. He’d worked hard to smooth out the rough edges. But Zoe? Her language was colorful and brash, and whenever she opened her mouth, the lyrics to a country song spilled out. Maybe that was why she fascinated him. Tucker continued to study her.

She had long, supple fingers—and didn’t the idea of them gripping him like she had them wrapped around the steering wheel make him shift in his seat. They ended with short nails covered in chipped red polish. Her arms looked toned and he wondered what her figure was like before the pregnancy. He jerked his thoughts away from jumping down that rabbit hole.

She drove with a carefree abandon and a determined focus. She was a free spirit, not ready to settle in one place. Except she’d decided to keep the child of a man she claimed was a one-night stand she didn’t wish to marry. Zoe was a paradox and his curiosity might just kill his cat. Good thing he didn’t own one.

“You’re staring.”

“Yup.”

“I need to pee again.”

“Okay.”

She cut her eyes his direction. “I’ll be stoppin’ at the next place we come to. You can drive after that.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly. “Considering it’s my car.” He flashed her a mock glower and added, “Though I’ll admit you’re not a bad driver.”

She made a pfft sound before she laughed. And, man, did her laughter arrow straight into his core. “Honey, I learned to drive when I was ten so I could borrow the neighbor’s car. My daddy couldn’t drive so I’d take us down to the local dive where I could play for my supper and his drinks.”

This woman fascinated Tucker. And he worried about that, just a little. She was raw and...real. She said what she thought with no filters, and no matter how horrified he might be, he still found himself enjoying her company. In the back of his mind, though, resided that little voice of doubt. Was she telling a tall tale, or was this the truth of her life? He understood that not everyone had the ’50s sitcom life he and his brothers had grown up with—a strong mother, a doting father, hard work but lots and lots of love, and parents who gave their boys the freedom to fly when they left the nest. All but his baby brother, Dillon. But that was okay. Between him and Deacon, they were keeping him in line.

Pulling his thoughts back to the woman driving his car, Tucker noticed Zoe was squirming in her seat. He surreptitiously searched the map app on his phone. “Can you last five more miles?”

Zoe glared at the speedometer then scowled as they passed a speed limit sign. The little car sped up. A lot. Tucker choked off a laugh. Less than five minutes later, she braked to a sliding stop at the travel mart just off I-40. She got the stick shift in Neutral, heaved out of the seat and waddled inside. Zoe wore such a determined look on her face that men scrambled out of her way. Tucker waited until she was out of sight and then he burst out laughing. Several people walking past the T-Bird stared at him. He didn’t care. He’d been totally charmed by his hitchhiker.

By the time Zoe returned, Tucker was sitting in the driver’s seat. He started to get out to hold the door, but she waved him off.

“I may be as big as a small barn, but I’m not helpless. The day I can’t open my own door, I’ll be flat on my back in a coffin.”

“Yes, ma’am, if you say so.”

“Are you makin’ fun of me?”

“No, ma’am. Not me.”

She gave him a narrow-eyed scowl. He just managed to keep his face averted so she couldn’t see the grin teasing his mouth. Too cute. Even pregnant with swollen ankles and a small bladder, she was too cute. “I’m taking the interstate so we’re about two, two and a half hours from Nashville. You gonna need to stop again?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. It depends on Baby Bugtussle.” She suddenly sat up straighter and blew out a slow breath. “Swear to the angels above this child is gonna be a placekicker for the University of Tennessee Volunteers.”

Tucker glanced past her, watching traffic, before pulling out onto the highway. “Do you know what it is?”

“Etta Smithee is convinced it’s a boy.”

“You haven’t had an ultrasound?”

“I’ve had three. The little dickens gives the camera its butt. Not one scan has shown this child’s privates. If I had a nursery, I’d have to paint it lavender.”

“Lavender?”

“Yup. Mix pink and blue. Makes lavender.”

“How about green? That seems like a neutral color.”

“Nope. Baby Bugtussle has done stepped on my last nerve. Gonna paint everything lavender. Then if it is a boy, he can just explain things to his friends.”

“Why not just name him Sue?” Tucker muttered.

Zoe laughed and launched into a few measures of Johnny Cash’s “A Boy Named Sue.” She offered a raucous rendition of the song. The part of him always on the lookout for new talent picked up something in her voice, but she stopped singing before he got a handle on just what he heard. He realized her voice made him think of moonlight and rumpled sheets, of a man and a woman entwined in the dark. He liked the vision in his head—probably a little too much.

They didn’t talk. At highway speed, the wind blew away their words. Zoe gathered her hair in one hand to keep it from whipping around her face. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, which surprised him. He caught himself watching her almost as much as he kept his eyes on the road. Her voice and laugh burrowed their way into him, as did the hint of uncertainty and sadness he sensed behind her good humor. The way her high cheeks complemented the line of her jaw, the curve of her throat as she arched her head back... She was far too attractive for his own good. He found himself lost in contemplating her face. Until he glanced down to the rounded bulk of her pregnant belly. That was like taking the ice bucket challenge every time.

They hit the outskirts of Nashville just over two hours later. Traffic thickened as they approached the east side. He needed to know where to drop her, so he asked. She took her time answering, and Tucker watched the lighthearted mask she hid behind slip a little. She finally asked to borrow his phone, only she didn’t make any calls. Her thumbs flew over the screen as she texted someone. Then she waited, eyes glued to his phone.

When she didn’t give him directions or an address, he took the exit for downtown Nashville and headed to the restored fire station that now housed Bent Star. His passenger looked up as the car rolled to a stop at Second Ave.

“Where are we?” Zoe’s forehead crinkled as she gazed around.

“I’m headed to my office unless you have someplace else in mind?”

She tucked her chin and shook her head. “No. Not really. I texted a friend of mine, but he hasn’t replied yet. I was going to camp out on his couch.”

Tucker didn’t like the idea of this male friend of hers. Which was ridiculous. Except he liked Zoe and was worried about her being stuck in Nashville all alone. He didn’t say anything until he pulled into the parking lot at Bent Star and cut the T-Bird’s engine. With both hands on the steering wheel, he slid his eyes her direction but didn’t look at her full-on. “Do you have another place to stay, Zoe?” She lifted a shoulder, head still down. “I can take you to a hotel.”

“I’m good,” she insisted. “Don’t put yourself out. I’ll just head to my friend’s.” He watched her shoulders slump in a defensive move. “Can I get my stuff from the trunk?”

“Sure.” He slipped out of the car and retrieved her guitar case and duffel. He carried both around to the passenger side and after watching her struggle for a long moment, set down the bag and extended his hand. “Here. For leverage,” he added when she scowled at him. Once she was out of the car, she slung the straps of the duffel over her shoulder, handed him his phone and clutched her guitar case.

“Well, thanks for all the help and stuff. Sorry for getting you caught up in all my drama.” She offered a wan smile, turned away and started walking.

Tucker glanced down at his phone and noticed a reply text. “Well, crap,” he muttered. His mother would disown him if she ever found out he let a down-on-her-luck pregnant girl just walk off into the sunset. “Zoe!”

* * *

She kept walking, picking up speed when Tucker yelled her name. If she could get downtown, she might find one of the clubs with an open mic night where she could sing for tips or something. That would get her a room until she could reach the guy she’d hoped to stay with.

Pounding steps echoed behind her, then a warm hand settled on her shoulder, halting her.

“Your friend texted back.” He held out his phone so she could read it. “He’s out of town, touring with a band.” She closed her eyes to hide the tears prickling there. Just once she wished things could go her way. She felt wrung out, and so tired she hurt all over.

“You don’t have any other place to go, do you?” Tucker’s voice sounded full of compassion. She hated that he might pity her but before she could make up something, he continued. “And I’m betting you don’t have much money, either.” He tugged the duffel off her shoulder and hefted it over his own. Then he relieved her of the guitar case. “C’mon. I have a couple of things to take care of at the office. Then we’ll go eat something and figure out things from there.”

“Look, you don’t—”

“Yeah, I do. I’m not going to just dump you out on the street, Zoe. I wasn’t raised that way.”

They walked back to the redbrick Victorian building. Once upon a time, it had been a firehouse. There was no sign to designate what sort of business occupied the space. Tucker hadn’t mentioned what he did for a living. Given the expensive boots and the classic car he drove, he had money.

He held the front door for her and ushered her inside. He could do...almost anything. Lawyer. Real estate. Heck, this was Nashville. He could be in the music business. The reception area had a country-western feel with lots of leather furniture and barn wood with a logo shaped like a Texas Ranger’s star behind the desk.

Tucker led her down a long hall that opened into another waiting area, still decorated in the same theme, only the artwork consisted of album covers and awards. Agent, she decided. Tucker must be a music agent. Either he window-dressed a good story or he had some major clients, according to the stuff lining the walls.

“Have a seat. I’ll be a little while,” he said, then disappeared behind a closed door—with her guitar case and bag. She was too tired to object.

She wandered around the space, stretching her legs. The secretary’s desk held only a phone console. She found the restroom and availed herself of it. As she wandered back to the sitting area, she noticed a worn acoustic guitar sitting on a stand. Unable to resist, she picked it up and settled in a large chair that could accommodate two people, if one of them wasn’t pregnant.