Read Online Love, Me by Tiffany White - Free Book Online

Dakota Country that evening, listening to him perform, and thought it was no wonder he had sponsors lining up at the door to underwrite his concerts. She was amazed a blue-jeans company hadn’t seen the windfall his endorsement would bring. It ought to be illegal to wear jeans that tight… and probably was.
    The ballad he was singing was an emotional minefield, and the audience was totally caught up in it. She had made the right decision; Dakota was a genius. When he finished the song, she and every member of the audience was drained, wrung out, content.
    But Chelsea wanted something different. The song she wanted Dakota to write for her had to be uplifting and optimistic.
    Like her.
    Despite a childhood that would be fodder for a half-dozen or so movies-of-the-week, Chelsea had refused to be a victim. She believed that if you let the bad things that happened to you in life control the rest of your life, then you lost. It was how people reacted to what happened to them that decided who won and who lost.
    Winning was not giving in, not accepting a life or a fate you didn’t want. It was fighting back, going on—surviving.
    â€œI’d like to get someone in the audience to come up onstage and sing a song for us. Ladies and gentlemen, give a big round of encouragement to Chelsea Stone!”
    Chelsea heard her name and then everyone started clapping.
    She was going to kill Dakota Law—right after he wrote her a song. But at the moment she had no choice but to go onstage and act like they were friends. He’d put her on the spot and in the spotlight.
    The crowd’s enthusiasm and anticipation were both scary and exciting. She’d never suffered from stage fright, but then she’d sung before rock audiences who knew what they were getting. This audience wanted country music. What would they think of her?
    Would they accept her or boo her off the stage?
    Surely, with Dakota there, they would give her a chance.
    â€œWhat am I supposed to sing?” she whispered to Dakota when she reached the stage.
    â€œWhatever you want. Here’s your chance to try out a country-music audience and see how you like it. Don’t freak. It’s only a small club. Just pick out a song and go for it.”
    The audience had quieted and waited expectantly.
    Chelsea could feel her heart pounding. She wasn’t prepared. It was warm. She felt dizzy.
    She couldn’t do it.
    Oh, yes, you can, a voice from her childhood insisted. And she listened to that voice—the voice that had never failed her. The voice that had gotten her through the emotional and physical cruelty. The voice that told her never to show fear.
    She didn’t know where she found the nerve or the presence of mind, but she launched into a parody of “Kentucky Woman,” only she sang it as “Dakota’s Women.”
    She was relying on humor and good fun. It wasn’t a real test of whether or not country-music fans would accept her, but it was ever so much better than a kick in the stomach.
    Somehow she got through the song.
    The rest of the evening and the ride home went by in a daze for Chelsea. The full reality of how much of a risk she was taking had sunk in when she’d performed without her accepting fans and a backlog of hits to support her.
    â€œYou haven’t said a word since we left the club,” Dakota remarked, as they pulled into the long winding drive to his home.
    â€œI’m thinking,” she explained.
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œWhere the gardener keeps the rat poison,” she joked, hiding her doubts and fears.
    â€œAw, come on, I thought you’d enjoy it. Besides, the audience loved you. And I’m the one who ought to be sore about that ‘Dakota’s Women’ bit you sang.”
    â€œYou deserved it,” she said, stifling a smile.
    He came around to let her out of the car, ever the gentleman.
    She followed him to the front door.
    As he was putting his key