Half Empty (First Wives #2)

He hummed a note, changed the rhythm, and then repeated it again. “I’m gonna make you smile . . .” He changed a chord, sang the verse again. He did it half a dozen times more before he grabbed a piece of staff paper and wrote the music down.

Time slipped away, and in what felt like minutes, the door to the studio opened, and Ike sauntered in.

“Do you ever stop?”

Wade glanced up. “I’ll stop when I’m dead.”

“Not if Vicki has anything to say about it.”

“What is my mother up to now?”

Ike leaned against the wall. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

Wade dropped his smile. “I pay you.”

“Right. So . . . there may or may not be a Texas-size barbeque planned for this Saturday to welcome you home from your tour. A band—that doesn’t include you in the headline—lights, dance floor, a side of beef, several chickens, and at least one pig is on the menu. Anyone you’ve ever met in your life that hasn’t asked you for money was invited.” He paused. “And some that have asked.”

Wade put his guitar aside and narrowed his eyes.

“By anyone I’ve ever met, would that include a certain ex–female friend that Vicki still has lunch with whenever she’s in town?”

Ike looked away without comment.

“C’mon, Ike . . . you’re supposed to have my back.”

“I told her it was a bad idea.”

He and Jordyn had broken it off before he started his tour. Not that it had been that long, or deep, of a relationship. This was why he didn’t date close to home. Too damn complicated when it ended.

“I need to shut this down,” Wade said as he stood.

“That might be a little hard.”

“Why?”

“Jordyn’s band is the entertainment, and the invitations have already gone out. Caterers are set and paid for.”

Irritation scratched his skull. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I didn’t hear of it until I came home.”

“Then you should have called me.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

That’s where Ike was wrong. “I would have flown to Barcelona and drank sangria for a couple of weeks. Found a dark haired, Spanish speaking, salsa dancing cutie to spend my time with.”

“Well, unless you can bring said cutie to the barbeque, I’d plan on a romantic intervention between your mother and your girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend.”

Ike shook his head. “She doesn’t seem to know just how ex that is. You might have to remind her.”

Reminding women it was over had been the theme of his dating life since he signed with his first record label. Before fame, if he wasn’t feeling it, he simply said so. Now, there was begging and pleading, which were sometimes followed up by screaming and yelling. Jordyn had begged and pleaded. She also kept in close contact with his mother. He couldn’t take any blame for introducing them. No, Jordyn and her band were on a local circuit that played at Jo’s tavern and dance hall. A place he often went to blow off steam and have a good time. It was local enough to have neighbors that saw him often enough not to act starstruck when he walked in the room. Most of the time he felt like just another cowboy, tilting back a beer with his friends. He’d had hopes that he could return and find Jordyn hooked up with someone else.

Guess that wasn’t going to happen.

“Saturday, you said?” An idea started to form.

“Yup.”

Three days.



“You’re chasing me,” Trina said as she answered the phone. The thing rang at nearly the same time it had the night before. Wade’s name popped up and made her smile. She’d thought about calling him twice during the day, and then life distracted her to another closet, and in this case, another safe for the locksmith to crack open.

“Guilty.” His voice was pure southern charm.

“Why?”

He paused. “That’s a complicated answer.”

“Try.” She sat looking out the second story window at the rain falling in steady sheets.

“Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

She wasn’t looking for a compliment, and a long answer would seem as if she were. “The short one.”

“Okay, then. You’re not chasing me.”

Not the answer she had expected.

“Oh.”

“I have more reasons.”

“No, no . . . I asked for the short version. I bet a lot of women chase you.” As in hundreds.

“They do.” That might have sounded cocky, but Wade said it with an exhausted sigh.

“That must make it hard on your girlfriends.”

He chuckled. “Funny you should say that.”

“Why is that amusing?”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Trina stopped watching the rain and moved to the edge of her bed. “I’m still in New York, working my way through this massive house room by room, why?”

“Can I tear you away?”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Are you ready for that?” He sounded hopeful.

Maybe when she wasn’t standing a room away from Fedor’s bedroom. “I’m not sure.”

“Then I’m not asking you out . . . I’m asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“I need a decoy date.”

“A decoy what?”

“Don’t say no. Just hear me out.”

“I haven’t said no and you haven’t explained anything.”

Wade blew out a breath. “Hear me out, don’t interrupt until I’m—”

“I haven’t interrupted you.”

“You just did.”

Trina grinned.

Silence.

“Are you still there?”

“I’m not interrupting.”

Wade chuckled. “My mother has decided a welcome home party is in order since I’ve been on tour for so many months. Lots of food, people, a band . . . dancing. You still owe me a two-step.”

She opened her mouth with only a peep.

“Eh, I’m not done,” he cut her off.

Trina bit her lip.

“Lots of people. Good people. You’d like them. Mainly old friends and neighbors. A few of my staff and people I’ve worked with. Anyway . . . there is one guest I’m not very happy about Mom inviting.”

Trina waited for him to finish. Her mouth closed.

“Jordyn and I dated last year for a brief time. We called it off before I left. I’m not completely sure how she convinced my mother that she should be at the shindig, but convince her she did, and now I’m in need of a decoy date to help me out.”

This sounded all too familiar. Decoy wife, decoy date. What could possibly go wrong? Trina glanced at the adjoining door to Fedor’s room.

“Are you there?” Wade asked.

“I’m not interrupting.”

“I’m done. You can interrupt now.”

Trina closed her eyes, shook her head. “No.”

“You can interrupt, I don’t mind.”

“No, Wade. I don’t want to be your pretend date. I’m sorry. I know I owe you a favor after running off to the Bahamas to give me a few days’ reprieve from my friends, but lying to your friends and family about us . . . I can’t do that again.”

“Again?” he asked.

Trina caught herself. “At all. I can’t do it.”

Silence.

She choked another apology inside her mouth.

“Then come as my real date.”

“Wade.”

“I’ll teach you the two-step. You’ll meet people outside your circle that won’t hit on you since you’re my date. I have a very big house with plenty of rooms. No expectations. If you want to stay in town, I’ll arrange it. Please say yes, Trina. I really want to see you again.”

That last line caught in her chest.

She couldn’t imagine a Wade Thomas party.

“When is this Texas-size blowout?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“Saturday. The party is on Saturday.” He sounded hopeful.

Trina scanned her bedroom again. There was a whole lot of work to do, but maybe one day off wouldn’t hurt.

She really hoped she wasn’t going to regret this. “Fine.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Wade. I will be your date. No expectations. Like I said, I’m not sure I’m ready.”

Did he just whistle? Trina was certain she heard a high-pitched squeak over the line.

“I have never worked this hard for a first date in my whole life,” he said.

“I think you’ve already said this. Besides, it doesn’t feel like a first date.”

“It sure doesn’t. But it will, little lady . . . it will.”