Chapter 3
Dancing in the Moonlight
Tara
Country music thumped on the other side of the door. Not the square dancing kind—not that I would know—but the my-wife-left-me-and-my-beer-went-warm kind. I’d lived in this state for three years but urban Texas was a lot different than rural Texas.
This was rural as shit.
After five days of hiding in a motel room with questionable stains on the carpet, I finally found my courage.
Whatever I thought I saw the other night, it was a nightmare. A waking nightmare after a traumatic event. I was hurt and full of rage, and my mind conjured a physical representation of that. I was no psychologist, but the vodka agreed with me and I didn’t question it.
I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life scared that Jay would hunt me down.
I also wasn’t going to waste the rest of my impromptu vacation in a motel.
I didn’t need a stay at the Hilton, but I preferred accommodations that didn’t look eerily reminiscent of a set from a scary movie.
This morning I booked a quaint but clean rental house.
I would check out of the motel tomorrow.
And tonight?
Tonight I was going to explore my newfound freedom. This wasn’t just a fresh start to my life. It was a clean slate for all the versions of Tara I was before.
Before Jay.
Before Texas.
Before all of it.
Looking over my shoulder at the destructive remains of my previous choices, I could see an obvious pattern. A dangerous pattern that led to being a prisoner in my relationship, captivated by the moods of a man that never loved me.
He wanted to control me.
To possess me.
They all did. I was a shiny object and they held me until I lost my luster.
The only way to change that was to change me. I was officially fun Tara. Unbothered Tara. Flirty but emotionally unavailable Tara.
Just declaring it made me feel better. Lighter, like my feet barely touched the ground.
Or maybe that was the green apple vodka.
A brisk wind whipped my hair over my shoulders and I sucked in a lungful of that cool air, tasting salt and wrinkling my nose at the less pleasant smells that followed it. Fish and booze and something that I wanted to call rust.
This wasn’t one of those charming small towns with a cute coffee house and a handful of resale shops selling knickknacks and candy bars.
This was the real deal. A true middle of nowhere place with nothing going for it.
But the people here were still hanging on. I could see it in the houses with peeling paint, the older boats parked between catamarans. This was a stubborn place.
I liked it already.
I glanced at the back door to the bar, watching to see if my drunk friend tried to follow me out. I could make a quick escape down the boardwalk to my motel room, but I didn’t want to risk him knowing where I was staying for the night if he was still bitter about getting turned down.
A stone settled at the back of my throat, and I couldn’t tell if it was the cheap booze making me sick or the upwelling of emotion.
Six months ago, I thought Jay was the best I could do.
He was good looking, and he didn’t buy me a gym membership for my birthday in as a passive aggressive way to suggest I could lose twenty pounds.
My dance partner tonight wasn’t the man of my dreams. None of the redneck-cowboy-types at the bar were. But they wanted me enough to buy me a drink. To ask for a dance.
I let my self-esteem fall so far that I was my own jailer. I couldn’t even blame Jay, really.
I stayed because I wanted to be wanted. Distant but interested seemed better than loneliness.
I inhaled another gust from the bay. New Tara was not going to take that shit. I was hot, smart, and completely unbothered.
My confident demeanor vanished with a shriek as a throaty, deep voice purred beside my ear. “You alright miss?”
“Holy—Jeez, you scared the crap out of me.”
The man beside me tipped an invisible hat in apology. He was taller than average, tan, and looked way too clean and dressed up to be hanging out in a place like this. The cut of his jaw was sharp, his features perfect in a way that made him walk around like the world bowed at his feet.
It probably did.
Something in the lines of his face reminded me of Jay. It was fleeting, and when he smiled, the resemblance melted away.
“My apologies, ma’am.” My heart fluttered without my consent, and his smile widened, as if he knew the effect he had on me. He probably did. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after that tussle. Those oil boys spend too much time out on the water. Makes them uncivilized.”
Unlike some of the locals I’d spoken with, his accent was faint. A soft drawl with a sophisticated lilt I couldn’t place. I took in his designer jeans and alligator-skin boots. Maybe he was old money.
The town itself wasn’t much to look at, but the beachfront houses with their four stories and three-car garages were probably owned by oil tycoons and doctors that spent their weekends fishing.
Did this guy spend every Friday night in one of those houses, looking down at all the old double wides and stilted houses with disdain?
He didn’t have that telltale curl of his lip. The expression Jay wore whenever the landscapers came, or when one of his employees parked their fifteen-year old truck on the grass by our driveway.
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for rescuing me.” I caught my hair, trying to smooth it down where the wind had tangled it.
“You sure? I can run back in there and rough him up, if you like.” He moved closer, stepping under one of the yellow lamps.
His brown hair was closely cropped on the sides, the longer locks slicked back in a gleaming wave across his scalp.
The sharp angles of his face gave way with that dazzling smile. One part charm, one part mischief.
The sparkle of that smile carried to his eyes, an effervescent hazel that probably looked green in the sunlight.
This man was trouble. The kind I should walk away from.
“And they say chivalry is dead.” I couldn’t help but return his smile.
Maybe I was looking for a little trouble.
“Someone has to uphold the law ‘round these parts.”
I took a few steps, following the lights on the boardwalk to where I knew there was a small beach when the tide was out. The waves were still receding, dark water reflecting flecks of yellow and white as moonlight blended with the lamps overhead.
He followed me, shortening his stride to match my pace. I stopped halfway down the boardwalk while the bar was still visible and the light from the motel parking lot illuminated where we stood. This guy wasn’t giving off any creepy vibes, but Jay didn’t used to either.
I had a feeling I knew exactly what he wanted. Confidence oozed from him like expensive cologne, the smoothness of his words practiced to perfection.
“Does the knight in shining armor routine usually work for you?”
“Every single time.”
“Well, consider me the exception.” I leaned my arms on the railing, pressing my lips together to hide my smile. My mind was already made up, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. If he wanted it, he could work for it. “That’s not the kind of fun I came for tonight.”
“Madame, I am a connoisseur of a good time.” He draped his forearms next to mine, close enough for me to feel the heat of him, but not so close that I was uncomfortable.
My pulse jumped, and I resisted the urge to swallow. His practiced charm was so good that I almost missed it. The way the angles of his face sharpened in the shadows. The glow of his eyes as they caught the moonlight.
I blinked, turning back to the water. I was jumpy after leaving Jay. That was all.
“Yeah, but can you show a girl a good time without whipping your dick out?”
His surprised laugh was rich and masculine. “And here I thought I was dealing with a lady.”
“You thought wrong. Go ahead, Mister Good Time, but I should warn you, I’m not easily impressed.”
He extended his hand. It was rough, contrasting with his soft grip, and there was a tingle where we touched. Another interesting side effect of green apple vodka, no doubt.
“I’m Isaac Barbeaux.”
“Tara Delaine.” I let my fingers linger against his palm, marveling at the palpable energy coursing between us.
“Mister Barbeaux?” A woman’s voice rang out in the night, breaking the spell that pulsed between our hands as I withdrew mine. She stood in the shadows between lamps, hair tied back in a tight ponytail.
Whoever she was, she looked upset, her eyes scanning Isaac with mistrust.
As quickly as she appeared, she was vanishing into the night, clutching her purse to her chest.
“Friend of yours?” I quirked an eyebrow at Isaac, trying to judge if that was a jilted lover.
“No,” he said, losing his charismatic tone as he scowled. “I think she’s looking for my twin.”
“Your twin? Of course.” I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess, he’s the evil one?”
The faintest flash of concern flitted across his face as his nostrils flared. He caught himself quickly, smile returning with an extra glint of mischief. “No, I’m definitely the evil one. Want to find out just how bad I am?”
He offered his hand, palm up. The air crackled around him, a weighty energy I didn’t understand. It was magnetic, power and confidence rolling off him and filling me with a surge of adrenaline.
I placed my hand in his, laughing as he led me back into the bar. “Fine, Mister Barbeaux, show me how bad you are.”