Trapped Under Ice (5 page)

Chad opened the door to The Drury for her. “Sure. Take all the time you need.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was seated on a couch in front of the lobby fireplace, his long legs spread wide, elbows on his knees, and hands folded when she came down in jeans and a sweater.

“Are you ready?” She smiled.

“Sure. But I was thinking, how about you and me grabbing a bite to eat? Are you hungry?”

“I’m starved,” she confessed. She was too anxious about her solo earlier to eat much.

“Good. How about Ted and Nancy’s?”

Chad seemed pleased about the idea, which he obviously got from some pamphlets lying on the table in front of him. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she’d eaten there for lunch.

“Sounds great.”

***         

Beth noticed that the waitress appeared to be studying the pair as she handed them the menus.

“My name’s Stacy,” she said, drawing her words out. “Can I get a drink for you?”

She smiled. “I’ll have an amaretto sour, please.”

“Do you have Bud Light on tap?”

“Yes, sir, we do,” the waitress replied in that same slow, contemplative way.

“That’s what I’ll have, please.” He exchanged a glance with Beth.

The woman seemed to come out of her stupor. “I’ll be right back.”

Beth giggled. “You must get that a lot.”

“Ahh, I don’t know,” he returned, seeming a little self-conscious. “Most people wouldn’t recognize me dressed like this.”

When he hung up their coats earlier, Beth saw he was wearing a lightweight black sweater with the tan pants, and although it was quite a different look from his usual black t-shirt and ripped jeans, she was sure she would recognize him anywhere. The rocker’s sweater fit him well and accentuated his muscular chest, and once again she found herself asking how she came to be sitting across the dinner table from Chad Evans.

They looked at the menus and made small talk until the waitress returned with drinks and took their dinner order. In her wake, she left an awkward silence. For the first time, the pair was alone with no ready subject for conversation. They both took a sip of their drinks to stall for time.

“Your drink all right?”

“Good, good.” She nodded.

“Good,” he repeated, seeming at a loss as to where to go next. He exhaled with a laugh. “You know, I don’t know anything about you, other than your name is Beth, you have a daughter named Cassie, and you’re one hell of a singer.”

“Ah…well...” Again she was unnerved by the praise.

“You’re staying at this hotel, so you’re not from here. Where do you live?”

“Bloomington, Illinois.” When he stared at her blankly, she added, “It’s about halfway between here and Chicago.”

He nodded. “What’s it like?”

“Well…it’s a college town. In fact, we have the little known distinction of being the only city with a university at either end of the same street,” she threw in, remembering seeing that in a paper Cassie did for social studies.

“I see,” he replied, bemused. “And what do you do in this fair city? I mean,” he back-pedaled, “do you work outside of the home?”

“Ah, so politically correct. Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m a lunch lady.”

The singer looked for a minute like he was going to spit out his drink, but he swallowed hurriedly and laughed.

“What?” Beth retorted, pretending to be hurt. “You’ve got something against lunch ladies, I suppose?”

“No, no,” he insisted. “It’s just…you don’t look like any lunch lady I ever had.”

She took a long drink and considered his words. Was there a compliment in there somewhere?

“So how did you land this lunch lady gig?”

Now it was Beth’s turn to laugh at his choice of the word “gig.” “Well, in truth it wasn’t all that difficult. I just showed up for the interview, they told me what the hours were, how much it paid, and what it entailed, then asked me if I wanted the job. So, hearing what glamorous duties I was to have and what a fabulous paycheck I would be bringing home, I, of course, took it.” He laughed. “No, really, I love my job. I love working with kids. I can come home and take a nap every afternoon before Cas gets home from school. What’s not to like?”

“Well, when you put it that way...”

“Not to mention, sometimes I get to bring home leftover sloppy joe meat.”

“It gets better and better. Sign me up.”

“Oh yeah. ‘Cause this whole rock star thing can’t compare to the wonderful benefits I just described. Tell me the truth, it was the sloppy joe meat that really sold you, wasn’t it?”

They both laughed again, noticing they were drawing attention from the other diners.

“Okay. So you’re a lunch lady, you’ve lived in Bloomington, Illinois, all of your life—”

“Actually, I’m originally from here.”

“St. Louis?”

She nodded. “I’ve lived in a few other places, but this is what I would consider my hometown.”

“Then how did you wind up in Bloomington?”

She took another long drink before continuing. “My husband, Paul, got a job at Illinois Insurance as an actuary. Its corporate headquarters is in Bloomington. We met at the University of Missouri-Columbia, got married while still in college, and moved to Bloomington right after graduation.” She felt the smile fade from her face. Chad seemed relieved when the food arrived.

“And you,” she declared between bites, jabbing her fork in his direction as she ticked off points, “you are from a little town outside of Albany, New York. You, your brother, and Roger started Trapped Under Ice as a cover band…and then you got tired of playing everyone else’s music and started writing your own.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Should I be scared now?”

She leaned forward and whispered, “Terrified,” with a smile, and then looked down to cut her steak. They ate for a few minutes in silence. She turned shy. “Chad, I have to tell you, this is a weird experience for me. I don’t remember the last time I ate with someone who has three platinum albums hanging on his wall at home—”

“Actually, on the tour bus.”

Her lips slid upward into a grin. “On the tour bus,” she amended. He made it all seem so normal somehow. “And I know you probably get tired of talking about your life, so…I don’t know if I should ask you things or—”

“Beth,” he interrupted, placing his hand over hers on the table for a second, “you can ask me anything you want.”

“Hmmm...” She smiled wickedly for a minute, seeming to make him just a bit nervous. She took another drink, watching him over the rim of her glass as she stretched the moment out, wanting to make him sweat a little. Then, she settled for an easy question. “Tell me what it’s like on the road.”

“It’s not bad,” he commented. “We have two tour buses. One for Roger and David and their wives, and sometimes David’s kids, the other for me and Keith. We call the first bus ‘The Married Bus,’ and our bus is called ‘The Fun Bus.’”

“I don’t think I want to know why.” She glanced away.

“No. Let me amend my previous statement by saying there are some things you may not want to ask about.”

“Ah.” She could only imagine. The bus probably saw a lot of action. A rock star, right…they had a girl in every city. She wondered if she were becoming that girl. Then, she wondered if she even cared.

As he continued to talk, she analyzed him, putting his various pieces together and pulling them apart to study them. He had an amazing ease about him…being with him wasn’t what she imagined sitting with a mega rock star would be like. It was more like sitting down to dinner with one of the janitors from work. Their conversations were so comfortable she might as well be talking to one of her girlfriends back home.

And his smile, the way he moved, everything about him, spoke of a natural sex appeal. She was sure it was something he possessed as a ten-year-old, but at the time it would have been seen as an adorable smoothness. And again as a teen, it would have made him every high school cheerleader’s dream. At that age, she was almost sure he would have strutted, proud of his newfound talent, but now she imagined it was so much a part of him he didn’t even have to think about it anymore.

The waitress reappeared to take their dishes. “Coffee? Or maybe, dessert?” They both shook their heads. “Then I’ll get you the bill. I hope you don’t mind,” she added tentatively, “but…aren’t you Beth Donovan?”

“Why, yes.” Beth felt her heart leap. Was there some type of an emergency phone call from Cassie?

“Well, I was just wondering, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask…” She pulled something from her apron pocket. “Would you mind signing my copy of
Amber Waves
of Grain
?”

“No, of course not,” Beth responded, taking her pen.

“I recognized you from your picture on the jacket. I just love your books.”

“Thank you, that’s nice to hear.” While she was signing, the waitress looked at Chad. “Are you famous, too?”

He laughed. “No, no. I’m nobody.”

Beth handed the book back, barely able to suppress a giggle.

The waitress took the book, beaming and hugging it to her chest, excited about her prize. “Thanks a lot. I’ll be right back with your bill.”

Chad peered at Beth with his eyebrows raised and a smile playing across his lips.

“Okay, so I also write from time to time. Just trashy romance novels. No big deal.”

“Well, she seemed to think it was a big deal.”

Chad shook his head a little. She was incredible. Fun, sexy, caring…his heart beat a little faster. Something was happening here, something exciting, and maybe a little frightening. He’d never cared to learn much about the other women he was with. Oh, he’d be interested if they shared, but she was the first one he really wanted to know things about, and he suddenly wanted to know it all, know her all.

“Well, she’s young. And,” the writer/lunch lady leaned forward and whispered as the waitress walked toward them, “she’s going to be kicking herself when she finds out she missed getting Chad Evans’s autograph.” They sat back and the waitress set the check down in between them. They both slapped a hand on it.

“No way,” Beth protested. “This is on me. A small way to thank you for what you did last night. And for hanging around with me tonight.”

“Tonight has been my pleasure. And you owe me
nothing
.”

“Chad, please, I’d like to do this.”

He heard Roger’s voice inside his head. “
Always insist on picking up the check when you’re out with a hot girl, that way they are indebted to you
.” He gazed into her pretty blue-green eyes, “bedroom eyes” Roger called them last night when Chad borrowed the alarm clock.
Aw…Roger’s a jerk, anyway. What does he know?

He sighed. “I’ll let you pay on one condition.”

She nodded.

“You let me pick up the tab next time.”

He relinquished the check and stood to get their coats while she finished paying. He held her ski jacket open and slipped it over her shoulders, resting his hands there briefly before bending down to whisper in her ear, “Thank you for dinner.” On a whim, he spun her around. “Do you want to come to practice with me? It will be pretty boring, but maybe afterward we could catch a drink or something.”

She hesitated. “Well…Cassie will be out all evening.” She seemed to make a decision. “I’d like that.”

“Good.”

He chuckled as he held the door open.

Beth looked up. “What?”

“I can’t believe she had the book right there and everything.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Chad watched Beth on the floor of the stadium in front of him. He loved how she was into his music. She danced and sang and clapped wildly after every song. She even got Michelle into it. She was dancing alongside Beth and hooting and hollering with her after each song; it had been a while since she had done that. And it was obvious Beth hadn’t overstated her devotion to the band. She seemed to know all of the lyrics, even to some of their more obscure songs.

After about their fifth song, Roger, who had been watching the girls the whole time as well, called out. “Why don’t you just come up here and sing with us, Beth? Chad told me you could sing.”

She looked at Chad and he shrugged with a smile. Roger stepped forward and reached his hand down. “Come on,” he urged softly. She glanced at Chad again, biting her lip.

He laughed. “Well, come on. You know you want to.”

“But you guys are practicing...”

“We know these songs backward and forward, darlin’. You’d only be saving us from our eternal boredom,” David spoke up. Keith nodded.

Uncertain, she placed her hand in Roger’s. She glanced back, but Michelle had disappeared. He walked her a few steps to the right where temporary stairs had been set up by the stagehands.

Chad stood with his guitar and patted the stool beside him. She had to hop to get up on it. “What do you want to sing?”