Center Stage
Page 6

“Only place to go, right?”
“Right.” He sincerely hoped Zach wasn’t reading anything into his dinner with Arianna. He didn’t need Zach or Regan filling her head with any ideas.
Arianna drove the dark roads back to town. The image of John and Zach standing in the drive talking had burned into her mind. She’d watched them from Tyler’s bedroom window. There was a comfort between the two men, much like that of her brothers when they spoke. She couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about. Did they talk about her?
It was silly to think about, really. She didn’t come home to find a man. She came home because she didn’t feel safe in New York anymore, and she didn’t feel as though her family in Nashville was safe either.
Arianna wiped the back of her hand over her forehead. The decision to move back to Nashville had been quick. She’d quit her job and had her things packed within two weeks. After all, when you hear a big investor with the theater wants to meet you and then are suddenly face to face, alone in the dressing room, with the man who tried to murder your sister and her baby, panic takes over.
She turned down the road that would take her home and had to force herself to slow down. It was as if she couldn’t lock herself in her house fast enough.
She finally pulled into the driveway, threw the car in park, and sat there.
How could she have ever known Alexander Hamilton was the man coming to meet her? Never, in her wildest dreams, would she have thought he’d show his face again.
Arianna had mixed emotions about Curtis telling Alexander that Regan had died after the bastard had beaten her when she was pregnant with his child. She’d always been afraid it would come back to haunt them. Arianna thought they should have had him turned in, thrown in jail, or even murdered.
But it hadn’t happened her way, and eventually Alexander Hamilton crossed paths with Regan. He knew they’d lied to him, and he wanted to know where the baby was.
Arianna sucked in a breath. She’d kept the secret of the baby. She had told him to his face that the baby had died, but she wasn’t sure he had bought it—and she wasn’t even sure he had cared. Alexander Hamilton was all about power, and when he’d approached her, he’d had power over her. But what she feared was that he’d come that close to her so what would stop him from coming to Nashville?
Zach would always protect Regan, but as her older sister, she felt the need to be there. Family was family, and you took care of your own. That was exactly what Arianna would do.
She took her keys and unlocked the glove compartment of her car. From inside, she pulled out the gun she’d kept there since she’d last lived in Nashville. She was sure Regan didn’t even know it was in there, or she certainly wouldn’t have let her keep it there.
Arianna slid it into her purse and stepped out of her car. She could see the lights from the basement windows, illuminated in the dark. Tomorrow she would make a point to meet her tenant. Tonight she was going to climb into that silly bed that John had left for her and get a good night’s sleep.
Her furniture should arrive tomorrow. She’d need all the strength she could muster to get everything back in place just like she liked it.
John turned down the volume on his television when he heard the footsteps upstairs. She was home.
It was stupid that he’d even worried about her, but he considered her a friend. Friends worried.
He clicked off the old M*A*S*H episode and pushed himself up from his chair. He threw his beer bottle in the recycle bin and headed to bed. Saturdays were as busy in construction as any other day. He should have been in bed hours ago. The thought didn’t settle well with him. If it hadn’t been for worrying about Arianna so much, he’d have been in bed at a reasonable time. Instead he was having ribs and beer and taking drives out to Zach’s. Just because he was single and willing to help didn’t mean he’d intended to be her knight in shining armor.
He pulled off his T-shirt and threw it in the hamper, then pulled back the sheets on his bed and climbed in. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and he doubted he’d get much more knowing she was just upstairs.
The thought of Alexander Hamilton’s face had kept Arianna awake most of the night. She didn’t want it to seem as though she were running, but inside she couldn’t help but feel that way. Sure, she was certainly strong enough when it had been Regan who had been haunted by the man, but now he’d entered her world. It was hard to feel as strong when she felt so vulnerable.
She looked at the little clock on the chair at the edge of the bed. It was only five-thirty in the morning and still dark outside. It had been a very long time since she’d seen this side of early morning, but if she went back to sleep, she just might have another nightmare.
Arianna rolled out of the bed and shuffled her way downstairs. It wasn’t until she was standing, blurry eyed, in front of the empty kitchen counter that she remembered there wasn’t a coffeemaker yet. She let out a long groan. The movers weren’t supposed to arrive until two. There’d better be a Starbucks at the end of the street.
She turned from the counter and looked out the window over the sink. Not even a hint of orange graced the sky line yet. What the hell was she doing up?
Just as she started to turn away, she turned back. Something else caught her eye. The old, red, beat up Ford pickup truck she’d grown to loathe and love was parked out back by the garage.
She leaned up on the counter to look out into the yard. She didn’t see John.
Arianna hurried to the front door, pulled it open and looked out front. He wasn’t there either.
Now why would he park his truck at her house?
She heard the door that went from the small basement apartment to the outside open and shut. She’d get her first glimpse of her tenant. It was a little bit of a surprise when she saw John walking up the steps with a mug of coffee in his hands.
She hurried to the back door and stepped out to the porch. “What are you doing here this early?”
His head snapped up, obviously surprised to have someone talking to him in the early morning from the porch.
“You’re up early,” he said, his voice rough.
“Couldn’t sleep. Are you working on something already?”
“Off to the build.”
She shook her head and started for the stairs. “No. I meant here. Is something wrong with the apartment downstairs?”