Facing the Music (14 page)

Blake followed quickly behind, being careful not to trample anyone in the process as people panicked and ran in every direction. There were so many people around, and quite a few were seated on the curb with their legs in the street.

At the front of the marching band, Ivy’s horse cut across the parade route. She ran toward the unsuspecting parade marshals holding the
ROSEWOOD MARCHING BAND
banner. Willow leaped over the sign while Ivy desperately tried to keep from falling off.

Willow plowed ahead, scattering a group of clowns and sending a candied apple vendor and his cart crashing to the ground. She finally made a break for the green lawns surrounding the courthouse and the library.

Ivy’s screams of “Whoa!” mixed with those of the people in her path as her horse charged at full speed. Blake had to give her credit—she couldn’t control the horse, but she hadn’t fallen off it, either. Blake kicked Angus into high gear once they came to an open space, and he pulled up alongside Ivy. He reached out to take Willow’s reins and tried pulling her to a stop, but she wasn’t having it.

“Reach for me!” Blake yelled, wrapping his arms around Ivy’s waist. She clung to his neck as he gave a sharp tug that pulled her out of her saddle and dropped her into his lap. Willow bolted without her rider, but Blake no longer cared. He slowed Angus to a stop and turned all his focus on Ivy.

She was red-faced and shaking like a leaf. “I am never, ever riding a horse again,” she said with a nervous chuckle before she fell apart. She buried her face in his shirt as he held her, her tears soaking through the fabric. He held on tight, rubbing his palm over her hair and murmuring soothing words.

“Are you okay?” he asked at last.

“Yes,” she said, looking up at him with large, glassy eyes. She swallowed hard, her expression softening. “You saved me.”

Ivy surged forward, her lips meeting his before he could answer her. She clung to him, the combination of fear, adrenaline, and relief bursting out of her as an undeniable need. Their kiss in the Ferris wheel had been a gentle kiss, a reacquainting kiss. This one was completely different.

He met her eagerness measure for measure. His own heart had been in his throat as he watched her on that horse, terrified she might be seriously injured. Now a heat surged through his veins, racing as quickly as the horses had a moment ago. Knowing she was safe and in his arms filled him with the need to possess her. Protect her.

Blake held her tight against him, unable to get her close enough. He tasted her, drinking her in, grateful he had the chance to do it once again. Fate had very nearly stolen his opportunity to be with Ivy. He had almost felt it being ripped away from him when he saw her horse bolt. He wasn’t about to let another minute go by without seizing his chance.

He didn’t want to let her go. It was only the approaching chaos that pulled them apart. They separated, still looking in each other’s eyes as they breathed heavily.

“Tonight,” she whispered, then quickly buried her face in his shirt.

A hundred concerned people came running, all shouting and clamoring at once about what had happened. With them, of course, were all the reporters. He didn’t know whether they’d caught a picture of the kiss, but he didn’t care about that. Let them post it. He far preferred that to photos of Ivy on the runaway horse or the trembling aftermath. He wasn’t going to let them take her picture while she was so upset. She was terrified, and she had every right to be. Someone, including her, could’ve been seriously injured or killed. This was no joke.

He bent his head and whispered into her ear, “Just keep close to me and no one can take your picture.”

She nodded against him, still shuddering with adrenaline in his arms. It roused a protectiveness in him that he wasn’t used to feeling for many people. It made him want to round up his brothers and his shotgun and get to the bottom of what had just happened.

With perfect timing Grant came running up, having leaped from the fire truck to come to his brother’s aid. Blake looked at his brother with a stern expression that made his displeasure quite obvious. The truck had been right behind them, so one of the firemen might have seen what happened.

“Grant, can you help her down?”

“Sure.” Grant held out his arms and eased Ivy back onto the solid earth. Blake followed, swinging his leg over to dismount Angus. He gave the horse a pat as he came around and wrapped Ivy in his arms again.

“What spooked the horse?” he asked.

Grant leaned in to speak where the rest of the gathering crowd couldn’t hear them. “I was hanging on the back, but Mack was driving the truck. He said he saw someone toss a firecracker into the street in front of her horse.”

“Are you serious?” Blake had been right about the sound.

Grant nodded. “Who would do that kind of thing? They ruined the whole parade and someone could’ve gotten hurt.”

Especially Ivy. The thought brought an ominous suspicion to mind. Blake scanned the crowds, looking for one face in particular. A bunch of people were standing around, not sure what to do with themselves. A couple were consoling the crying Miss Rosewood for the loss of her glorious moment. Parents were searching out their children from the marching band. He didn’t see Lydia anywhere, despite her brother and Mr. Whittaker running up from their truck. That was a start. He wanted to talk to them privately.

“Grant, could you take Ivy to your car and get her out of here?”

“Sure thing.”

“Ivy, Grant’s going to take you home. I’m going to figure out what happened. I’ll call you later and check on you, okay?”

“Okay,” Ivy said. She took a deep breath, wiping away her tears. She was no longer flushed, but she looked relieved to have an exit strategy.

Grant put his arm around Ivy’s shoulder and escorted her across the lawn to his car. The crowds stayed back, with a few stray cameramen snapping shots as they left.

Blake turned on his heel and walked over to where Thomas and his father were standing. When Thomas saw him, his eyes went wide with panic.

“I’m so sorry, Coach. I don’t know what got into Willow.”

Mr. Whittaker put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “She’s never done that before, Blake. She gets a little startled by loud noises, but she’s never reared back or bolted like that. I’m not sure what happened.”

“Mack said he saw someone throw a firecracker into the street in front of them.”

Mr. Whittaker’s eyes widened and he nodded sadly. “That might’ve done it. Who would do such a thing?”

“Have you seen your daughter, Mr. Whittaker?”

The older man opened his mouth to speak, then his brow knit and he paused. Turning to Thomas, he said, “Catch Willow and put her in the truck before something else spooks her.” When his son jogged off after the filly and was out of earshot, he spoke again. “I haven’t seen her today,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“She and I had a discussion last night that she didn’t like. It involved Ivy.”

Mr. Whittaker frowned. “Lydia is a headstrong girl and she knows what she wants, but I don’t think she’d do something like that. She and Ivy were best friends in grade school.”

“Perhaps she was just playing a prank to embarrass Ivy and the horse was more skittish than she anticipated.”

“I don’t know, Blake. I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

Blake turned his back on the older man and the horses. He ignored everyone as he traced back over Willow’s path, crossing the street and stopping near Ellen’s Diner. Most of the people who had been here only minutes ago had gone.

He stopped on the sidewalk right where they were when the horse took off. They’d just crossed through the intersection. There was a black smear on the pavement with the faint paper remnants of a firecracker left behind. From where he was standing, it would’ve been easy to toss the firecracker, then turn and disappear into the back door of the diner.

Lydia’s family owned Ellen’s. The people who worked there would think nothing of Lydia popping in.

Blake walked around to the front entrance. There were only a few hard-core coffee drinkers at the counter; otherwise the place was empty.

“Hey, there, Blake,” Ruth greeted him. “Did something happen with the parade? It seemed to end pretty quickly.”

“There was a float malfunction,” Blake said.

“Well, that’s a shame. Can I get you something to eat?”

“No, thanks, Ruth. You haven’t seen Lydia recently, have you?”

“Well, you’re in luck. I have. She’s in the kitchen helping Fred with a new dish we’re adding as a special. Go on back,” she said with a smile.

“Thanks.” Blake slipped quietly through the door into the kitchen. He found Lydia with the diner’s cook, Fred. They were discussing some kind of sauce to go with chicken.

Lydia looked up a moment later, her eyes widening with a touch of fear as she realized Blake was in her kitchen. Blake pointed to the back door, leaving no question that they were going to have a chat right now.

“You work on getting that sauce reduced. I’ve got to step out a minute.” Lydia took off her apron and went out the back door with Blake on her heels.

By the time the door shut, Lydia was smiling and looking completely innocent. Blake wasn’t falling for that. “Is there something wr—” she started.

“Don’t even try it,” Blake interrupted with a pointed finger in her face. “I know it was you. If you won’t admit to it then have the good sense to keep your mouth shut and let me talk. You’re damn lucky no one got hurt. Ivy could’ve fallen off the horse. A child could’ve been trampled under the hooves. You were raised around horses; you should know that better than anyone else. A million things could’ve gone wrong, but everyone is okay. If that wasn’t the case, I’d have your ass arrested right now.”

Lydia stood looking quietly solemn but not at all contrite. He didn’t expect her to. She always felt her actions were justified somehow.

“I’m going to assume this was a onetime transgression that will never happen again, and as such, I’m not going to tell anyone about it. But if you lay a finger on Ivy ever again, I’ll see to it that the entire town knows what kind of person you really are. I thought you were just a catty, jealous bitch, but you’ve crossed a line. See to it that you don’t cross it again.”

Without waiting for her response, Blake turned on his heel and headed for his truck.

Chapter Thirteen

“You look amazing.”

Ivy barely heard Blake’s compliment over her own snorts of laughter. The stress and drama of the day melted away in an instant. Blake’s tuxedo looked amazingly awful on him. “Where did you find that thing?”

“My dad was the best man in a formal wedding in 1984.” Blake held out his arms and did a little spin on Ivy’s front steps. “What do you think?”

“I think I’ve never seen you look like that before.” And she hadn’t. The tuxedo was a pale gray, almost silver. The jacket was cut high in the front, about at the waist, with tails in the back. It had a dark blue cummerbund and matching bow tie. “You even got matching accessories to go with my dress.”

“I rented that part from the formal wear store in Gadsden. I didn’t even know you could still get a cummerbund, but the lady had some in the back.”

“Nice touch.”

“Just wait until you see Grant, though. His suit makes me look chic.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” Ivy looked him up and down, a smile spreading across her face. “Speaking of your brother, thanks for having him take me home this morning. I really just wanted to get out of there. It was so humiliating.”

Blake had a strange expression on his face when she spoke. He seemed almost irate, yet embarrassed at the same time. “It wasn’t your fault, Ivy. Very few people could’ve controlled a horse that was scared that badly.”

“Grant seemed to think someone in the crowd startled her.” Ivy shook her head. “I bet those are the last horses they ever have in the parade,” she said. “And the last time they have
me
in it, for certain.”

“I doubt that. They’ll invite the horses back,” he said with a chuckle. “This is for you.” He held up the clear box with the corsage. He opened it and pulled out the white roses, bundled with a white elastic band.

Ivy held out her hand and let him slip the corsage onto her wrist. Just looking at it brought back a wave of nostalgia for that night with Blake. It had been an amazing night for her. They were crowned the prom king and queen. They danced for hours to their favorite songs. And when the dance was over, they took a blanket out by Willow Lake and made love for the first time.

Remembering that moment brought a sudden flush to her cheeks. History might very well repeat itself if their heated kiss this morning was any indication. She’d promised him tonight and she meant it. There was nothing quite like a brush with death to reorganize your priorities. In the moments after he saved her, that was all she wanted. His touch, his kiss, his hands on her body. There was no reason to deny what they both wanted any longer.

“That’s very sweet,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice her reaction. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“It’s prom,” Blake said with a shrug. “I don’t care how old we are, there are things that you just have to do. You have to get a cool suit and buy your girl a corsage.” Blake took a step back to show her his blazing orange Corvette parked outside. “You also have to pick your girl up in a hot sports car.”

Ivy’s eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of the car. She’d only seen Blake going around in his truck, but she wasn’t surprised to find he had a Corvette, too. He’d had posters of them on his walls in school. He drove around an old Mustang in high school, but he’d aspired to one day getting his dream car. A couple of years in the NFL made that possible.

“Wow. Auburn orange.”

“Of course,” Blake said, beaming with vehicular pride. “My truck is blue, so my ’Vette had to be orange.”

“Not only am I going with the hottest guy, I’m showing up in the coolest car. That’s got to make up for looking like a fool today.” Ivy pulled the door to the cabin closed behind her and walked with Blake to his car. He opened the door for her to get in and she sank into the plush camel-colored leather seats.

Blake got in and the engine roared to life. They flew down the highway back to town and before she knew it, they were pulling into the high school parking lot. He pulled up to the curb of the front entrance. “Here, I’ll drop you off, then go park. Those heels are pretty high and you need to be able to dance all night.”

Ivy laughed as he opened her door and helped her out. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The Stuart Weitzman navy satin slingbacks weren’t her highest heels, but they weren’t her most comfortable ones, either. They were super cute with Swarovski crystals on the heel, and they went with her dress. That was more important than comfort.

Blake pulled away and Ivy looked around. “Oh my goodness,” she said as she spied the uniformed police officer at the door of the school. “Is that
you
, Simon?”

The young man straightened up and gave Ivy his most stern-looking face. “That’s Officer Chamberlain to you, ma’am.”

Ivy smiled. “Since when do they let fifteen-year-olds into the police force?”

“It’s been a long time since I was fifteen, Ivy.” The young Chamberlain smiled, reminding her so much of Blake at that age. Blake had a larger build from playing football, but the charming smile and blue Chamberlain eyes were just the same. “I’m going to be twenty-two come January.”

“That’s impossible,” Ivy said with a teasing tone. “You couldn’t even get a driver’s permit the last time I saw you.”

“That means you need to come visit more often!”

“You’re right, I do. Pardon me, Officer Chamberlain. Is it a crime to hug a man of the law? I’m unarmed.”

“Not at all, ma’am.”

Ivy leaned in to give Blake’s youngest brother a big hug. He’d gotten so big since she saw him last. He had always been her favorite of Blake’s siblings. Blake was the oldest, the football star and town golden boy. Next were the twins, Mitchell and Madelyn. They’d been in the same grade with Ivy. Mitchell was always very serious and studious, never really interested in chatting when Ivy came over. Blake had told her that he was away at med school. His twin, Maddie, had always been a brat, and she’d joined Lydia in making life difficult for Ivy at Rosewood High. Grant was girl crazy. Hazel was preoccupied with her dolls and books. Simon was the sweetheart who looked up to his big brother Blake like an idol.

“You’re looking good, Simon. Are you on duty all night, or can I have a dance later?”

A faint blush rose to his cheeks. “I’m on duty until two thirty. I’ll have to take a rain check on that dance.”

Blake came up behind Ivy and gave his brother a hard clap on the shoulder. “Whatcha think of my date, bro? Pretty hot, huh?”

Simon continued to blush as he looked Ivy over. It made her wonder if perhaps he’d had a little crush on her as a boy and she never noticed.

“She looks even hotter than she does on television.”

“You’re so sweet,” Ivy said. Several couples went past them into the dance. “We’d better get inside before Gloria starts to panic. Have a good night,
Officer Chamberlain
.”

Blake ushered her into the dance with a palm on her lower back. Ivy waited while he turned over their tickets and told the woman at registration to let Gloria and Otto know they were both there.

Inside, they passed through a cascade of metallic streamers and into the high school cafeteria. Ivy was surprised to see how much the committee had transformed the space. The lights were dimmed, with multicolored disco lights shining down from overhead. There were crepe paper streamers all over the place, and there was even an area for prom photos with a balloon arch framing the shot.

A stage was set up with another metallic curtain of streamers behind it to block the windows where students normally ordered food. To one side was the DJ, complete with an unfortunate Flock of Seagulls–style hairdo. He was currently playing Prince’s “Little Red Corvette,” which seemed appropriate given their mode of transportation for the night.

Ivy realized that tacky clothes aside, she should be happy this was an eighties-themed dance. If he stuck to the music of that era, there wouldn’t be any unfortunate incidents with Ivy’s infamous hit. There was a good crowd of people there, although no one was dancing yet. It was still too early. Most folks were just milling around and chatting.

On the opposite side of the stage from the DJ were the thrones for the prom king and queen, the same as she remembered from high school.

Blake led Ivy over to a table at the edge of the room where Grant was already seated with his date, a woman Ivy didn’t recognize. Blake had been right about his tuxedo. It was awful. It had black pants and a rust-colored jacket with black buttons and piping along the lapel and pockets. The ivory shirt underneath had ruffles down the center with matching rust thread on the edges.

Ivy bit her lip trying not to laugh. She got the chance to turn away when Blake leaned down to speak to her over Prince’s cries blaring from the speakers.

“Do you want some punch?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’m going to walk around a little bit.”

“I’ll find you.” Blake turned and disappeared across the room to the refreshments table.

Ivy waved at Grant and his anonymous girl before turning and taking a stroll around the edge of the room. She was too nervous about tonight to sit idly. Gloria had assured her that none of the paps would be allowed into the dance—that was probably why Simon was outside—but that didn’t make her feel much better. They’d find their way in, one way or another.

She waved at people, weaving around tables and decorations. She saw Pepper and Brian getting their picture taken. Pepper was right. He’d gone from nerd to geek chic, quite the handsome guy these days.

“I just heard about all the excitement this morning, bless your heart. They said you nearly mowed down several small children and traumatized the parade marshals.”

Ivy tensed up and closed her eyes when she heard the woman’s voice from behind her. Why was Lydia always sneaking up behind her? Taking a deep breath, Ivy turned to face her.

Lydia had on a tight, short, sequined black dress with a peplum that was hot pink on the underside. There was a big pink bow at her hip that would have made her look wide if she wasn’t so petite to begin with. Her hair was teased and sprayed into submission, making a golden halo around her head like a lion’s mane. She looked just like she’d strolled off the set of an eighties music video.

“Lydia. I’m sorry you missed it, but honestly, you wouldn’t have enjoyed yourself very much. We both know how much you hate it when I’m the center of attention instead of you. I think you’re the winner tonight, though. I see you got C. C. DeVille’s stylist to do your hair. No one will give me a second glance with that train wreck ingrained in their minds.”

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up so high they nearly spilled out of her sweetheart neckline. “I heard you came here tonight with Blake,” she said, pointedly ignoring the insult.

Normally, Ivy wouldn’t make a big deal about coming with Blake, but if he was right and it would make Lydia miserable, she was all for it. “I did. He asked me at the fair.” Ivy held up her wrist to showcase her corsage. “He even bought me the same corsage he got me in high school. Isn’t that sweet?”

Lydia’s lips tightened into a thin pink line. She didn’t seem impressed. She seemed like she was ready to throw something. Perhaps Ivy had pushed her too far. “Why is it that every time I’m close to getting something I want, you swoop in and take it? Everything that should’ve been mine went to you instead. You’re not even staying in Rosewood, but you couldn’t stand for me and Blake to be happy together. You had to mess everything up.”

“Yes, Lydia, that was
exactly
my plan when I came,” Ivy said, rolling her eyes. “You think I spent all my time scheming on how to take everything you wanted, but you give yourself too large a role in my mind. If you hadn’t spent all your time trying to make me miserable, I could’ve forgotten all about you.”

“Yeah, right. We both know you were jealous of me because you weren’t good enough for him then, and you aren’t good enough for him now.”

“Excuse me?” Ivy exclaimed. Was she really starting this here?

“You heard me. It doesn’t matter how many albums you record or how much money you make, because you’ll always be just a little white trash around the edges, Thrift Shop.”

“Why? Because I didn’t grow up spoiled and rich? Because my daddy couldn’t pay for debutante training and white-gown cotillions? ’Cause I’m not a member of the Junior League?
Please
. I never wanted to be like that. I never wanted to be like you. And that was fine with me because Blake didn’t want you; he wanted me. And he still does.”

“Aww, Ivy. Did you think that just because Blake slept with you that he thought you were good enough for him? Me and everyone else in town could’ve told you he never would’ve married you. You don’t deserve the Chamberlain name and everyone knows it, including him.”

Ivy wished she had one of her Grammys here so she could hit Lydia upside the head with it. Ivy Hudson. In the cafeteria. With a Grammy.

“Let’s face it, Blake didn’t want you then and he doesn’t really want you now. He wouldn’t have screwed around with that cheerleader if he had been dating
me
. I know how to keep a man happy.”

Ivy felt her blood pressure start to climb. She was right. He couldn’t have slept with that cheerleader because Lydia wouldn’t have let him out of her sight. “But he
wasn’t
dating you. Even despite your best bitchy efforts to steal him away from me. And he never did date you.”

“Oh, Ivy,” Lydia’s face drew into a sympathetic frown. “Haven’t you heard? I have dated Blake. Wait . . . let me rephrase. I
am
dating Blake. As in, currently.”

“You don’t say.” Ivy wasn’t about to let rat-faced Whittaker ruin her night the same way she ruined her high school years. “Well then, why was he at the fair
with me
? Kissing
me
? Coming to the dance
with me
?”

“You seem so worldly and yet you’re so naïve, Ivy. You’re nothing but a hot piece of ass he’s courting for the sake of the fund-raiser. Miss Adelia, or Granny, as she likes me to call her, put him up to it. If he’s seen with you and starts a”—Lydia made air quotes—“ ‘relationship’ with you, we’ll get a lot of press and sell more tickets. So he can get his stadium rebuilt and take the team to the championships. And then, once you flit on back to La-La Land, he’ll be back with me, where he’s always belonged.”