Bourbon Harmony (Bourbon Canyon #5)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Rhys

Fifteen years ago . . .

June popped out of the cabin when I pulled up. Her jean cutoff shorts framed the top of her curvy legs. She wore an orange Copper Summit T-shirt tied at the waist, and her sandals smacked the floorboards of the porch as she jumped up and down and waved. The long light-brown hair I loved to run my hands through hung loose. The excitement on her face blazed brighter than the summer Montana sun.

I swallowed hard. She was my world, and that world was coming to an end. I’d been through it once before, but I didn’t want to shatter hers.

I’d do anything to make sure June Kerrigan got to live out her dreams, and that wouldn’t happen for her in tiny Bourbon Canyon, Montana .

I got out of my pickup, my limbs heavy with dread. I was dressed for ranch work in my worn jeans, my beat-up boots, and an old T-shirt. Not for the trip June thought we were taking.

“Hey, babe.” She gestured to her car. The back seat was full of boxes and a guitar case. “You can toss your stuff right in. I left you half the trunk space but not as much of the back seat as I promised.”

My heart hung heavy at her grin. “I don’t have anything.”

Her smile dipped. “Oh. Okay. Is your dad dropping your luggage off when he grabs the pickup?”

That would’ve been the plan. We’d drive together to Nashville. June would work on becoming country music’s next rising star. I’d start college at Tennessee State University. We’d live together in a little apartment she’d found and she’d work as a server until someone discovered how fucking amazing she was.

June was my songbird, but she needed the world to hear her songs. She wanted to share her talent, and she should be able to. I wouldn’t be the one to stop her. “I’m not going.”

Her smile vanished. “What?”

“Dad’s leukemia . . .”

She ran down the stairs, her hair streaming behind her. “Oh my god. Did something happen? Did he get worse?”

“No.” Just thinking about Dad’s illness was making my throat close up. I stepped back from June and the comfort she’d offer. I had to stay strong. “It could be five years, it could be ten.” Dad’s leukemia diagnosis was fresh and so was the fear that came with it. He’d been tired for months, and I’d been picking up more of the slack. We had answers now, but I wished for sweet ignorance. “They need me. My place is in Bourbon Canyon.”

Relief flared, followed quickly by guilt. I wouldn’t have to move. I wouldn’t have to leave my dad and stepmom to handle a sweeping ranch that had grown to be too much for them too soon. I wouldn’t have to worry about stifling June’s rise.

Confusion played across her expression. “You’re... You’re not coming?”

“I canceled my enrollment at Tennessee State.” I had quit college before I’d even started. I shook my head and stuffed my hands into my jeans before I could capture a strand of her hair and tell her I was kidding, I’d absolutely be there with her every step of the way. If only I wouldn’t trip her up. “Dad needs me. Wren’s so damn stressed about the ranch.”

“He’s hiring someone to help, Rhys. So you can go.”

“He’s hiring me.”

Her expression remained bemused. “Your dad wants you to go.”

“He’d never tell me he needed me to stay.” I’d seen Dad’s stark relief. He’d have me to run the ranch. My stepmother would have me as support and to help with Dad if he... I bit back tears. As he got weaker.

“But he said he wanted you to go more than anything. He said he didn’t want to be the one ever holding you back. I was there, Rhys.”

“He was lying.”

“Jonathon Kinkade does not lie.” She folded her arms. “Your daddy wants you to go almost as much as me.”

“June . . . He might be dying. ”

She blinked and a big tear rolled down her cheek. “I—I know. I’m sorry.” Another tear.

This time, I didn’t hold back. I captured the second drop with my thumb, wishing I could change it into a diamond. I’d wear it on a chain around my neck. A piece of June would be with me every day.

I rubbed the moisture between my thumb and forefinger. It was best I didn’t have a trinket to remind me of her. The task of forgetting the girl I’d loved since eighth grade would be impossible enough as it was.

“I am so damn excited for everyone to discover June Bailey.” I cupped her face. My determination to tell her I wasn’t going was dwindling. I needed to leave, but my boots were stuck in place. She was hurting and it was my fault. “But my place is at the ranch.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m not worried about your dad. I am.” She shook her face out of my grip and started pacing. She swiped her hands under her eyes. “I’m supposed to start work in a week. The lease needs to be signed in three days.”

“I’ll send money for the rent.”

She barked out a laugh. “You’re going to pay for a place you’re not living in?”

“I’ll be a ranch manager.”

She quit pacing, her sandals skidding in the dirt. “We’ve been together since eighth grade. This will be our first time apart.” Her lips quivered. “I’m scared.”

Tell her it’s over. Tell the only girl you’ve ever loved that you’re done. She’s going to Tennessee single. Because you’re letting your songbird go.

Instead, all I said was, “I know.”

The girl had been my everything since I was the new kid in middle school. She’d been my first friend and my first and only girlfriend. Panic filled my chest. This couldn’t be the end.

No. It had to be. Dad needed me, and June would do better without me. “I love you, June, but I gotta do this.” My voice was strangled at the end.

She sniffled and her eyes welled with more tears. She sucked in a long breath and lifted her chin. “What about tonight? We were supposed to finally have a night together. The first of many.”

I wanted that more than fucking anything. To go to sleep with June. To wake up to her. We were adults now. We could be together. Her brothers and sisters thought we were moving in together. Until tomorrow, when June would tell them she had to leave without me.

I’d let her go. She’d tell them I broke her heart. I’d endure the looks and whatever retaliation her brothers thought fit. I’d do it all while nursing my own shattered heart.

“We’re going to be across the country from each other.” I steeled myself for the task. “I won’t be able to visit. It’s better for us to see this for what it is. It’s the end, June. I’m sorry.”

More tears rolled down her cheeks. “Long distance doesn’t have to mean the end.”

“It’s best for us each to take our own path?—”

“I know you won’t be able to travel, but I can still come home.” Her voice wavered and she sniffled, but determination grew in the amber depths of her eyes. “I’ll still be doing work for the distillery.”

“June—”

“I’ll work and save some money, but I’ll still come home. It won’t be a stressor for you, trying to figure out time away from the ranch and your dad’s treatments. When your dad is better, then you can move out. I’ll be there. College will still be there.”

“We don’t know the timeline on any of this.” I didn’t know if Dad would even make it through treatment.

She took both my hands in hers. “We can talk every day and see each other over the phone. There are lots of ways two people in love can stay connected.”

I loved her with everything I had, and that was why I had to let her go. I couldn’t be the reason she suffered. She didn’t want to give up on us because she had no idea how much better for her goals that would be. But I did.

“It’ll be fine,” she continued, her face filling with color again. “I can commute a little more often than planned. Daddy wanted me to do a few voice-overs for some radio promos anyway. Since you won’t be in Tennessee, I’ll use my time off to keep writing songs. ”

My temples throbbed. She wasn’t listening. I could barely fathom life without her, but I’d had more time to prepare myself. “June?—”

“I can probably even sell some songs. I mean, I think they’re pretty good?—”

“ June .”

She stopped, snapping her mouth closed. Hope lit her eyes, then wavered, hanging on to what I would say next. I could tell her we were over again. I could leave to punctuate it. But my stubborn little songbird would follow me. She’d stay with me, and she’d ruin her chances. For me.

My stomach lurched. “What about if you go, and then I’ll join you? Just like you said.”

“Really?” The light in her eyes brightened. “I know you can’t promise me when, but I really think it’s the right choice. You’ll get to be in Bourbon Canyon with your dad, and I’ll get a record deal.”

“I want you to get everything.” I gripped her shoulders and ducked my head to look her straight in the eyes. “I’ll come down, okay? Just, not now.” Bile rose in my throat. I’d never lied to June. Until now. “I need you to go ahead without me. When Dad is better or after he—” My voice caught. “If the worst happens, then I’ll join you.”

A tremulous smile graced her lips. “I’ll be waiting.” Her gaze was earnest. “Long distance isn’t the end. We can’t give up on each other.”

“I know.” I’d never give up on her. But I would give her up. I wrapped my arms around her. She buried her face in my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

She squeezed her hands in my shirt. “You scared me.”

“I am scared. About everything.”

“I know.” She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to my lips. “Come on. Let’s go inside. Can you stay over?” She looked over her shoulder, her big eyes almost pleading.

Goddammit. “Yeah.” I pulled her back to me and cupped her cheek in one hand. “Then you’re gonna go. Just like Mama Starr would’ve wanted—you on that stage for everyone to hear.”

June’s birth mom had nurtured her gift, encouraged her, especially during the hardest of times.

“I wish she could see me. Both of them,” she said.

“They’ll be with you everywhere you go. When you take the Grand Ole Opry stage, they’ll be right here.” I tapped a finger over her heart. “And Mae and Darin will absolutely be filling the Opry seats for them.” June’s adoptive parents had nurtured her talent too .

“I want you there. I want you in the audience.”

I lifted her chin and captured her mouth. My dick, half-awake since June had been jumping up and down, paid even more attention. When I’d arrived, I had thought I’d never get to touch her again. This would be my last night. Our last night.

I released her and touched my forehead to hers. “Let’s go inside.”

“Promise me you won’t give up on us.”

“Promise me you’ll go and be a star,” I countered.

“What if no one likes me?”

“Everyone’s going to love you. Just like me.”

A wide smile graced her face. “You’re biased. What if they only let me on the county fair stage because of Daddy and the distillery?”

It was a legitimate concern. Her parents had a ranch much larger than ours, but more impressively, they owned Copper Summit Bourbon Distillery. The distillery invited a lot of tourism and employed many locals. Without Copper Summit, a town as small as Bourbon Canyon might’ve faded into nothingness, businesses slowly shutting as people moved to larger towns like Bozeman and Lewiston for work and play. Instead, the town thrived, thanks in no small part to the distillery.

But none of that had gotten June up on that stage. It was all her.

“You earned your way onto those stages, just like you’ll earn each and every show you perform in Nashville.” I tugged her inside the cabin. I was giving myself one last night with her, and suddenly, I was a greedy man. I pushed any thoughts of the future out of my head and concentrated on now. “Now, let’s quit wasting time. We don’t know when we’re going to be together again.”

We spent the night in each other’s arms. June fell asleep, her soft breathing wafting across my chest, but I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t get a damn bit of rest, my mind tumbling until dawn.

When it came time to say goodbye, I didn’t fess up and tell her it would be for forever. I hugged her instead, long and hard, trying to communicate how much she meant to me. How much she’d always mean to me.

We stood on the porch, her head buried in my chest. The car was loaded with the last of her luggage. Birds chirped like they didn’t know or care that it was one of the worst days of my life.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” she murmured. “I’ll make sure to get back as soon as I can.”

I’d do my best to make sure she didn’t have a reason to, outside of her family.

She rose to her tiptoes and placed a kiss on my lips. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Be safe, and be yourself. Everyone will love you. But never as much as me.”

I finally got her loaded. Her eyes glistened when she drove away.

My gaze wavered and I sniffed. Her car disappeared, and just like that, June Kerrigan was out of my life.

June

Eleven years ago . . .

I dabbed at my eyes. The gloomy, cold fall weather fit the mood of those gathered at the graveside for Rhys’s dad. Wren was destroyed, leaning on Rhys and weeping with a heartbroken sound that made it hard to keep my tears at bay. Only years of performing helped me control my features.

Jonathon Kinkade had been a kind man. I was grateful I had been able to say goodbye to Rhys’s dad before I’d moved away.

The church had been packed and I had stayed in the back with my family. My gaze lingered on Rhys, and my heart skittered across my chest wall. He’d never looked so good. Beyond the fatigue and sadness in his eyes was a sexy man where last I’d seen a good-looking kid.

He hadn’t met my gaze yet, and honestly, I hadn’t tried hard to capture it.

Don’t wait for me. The last text I ever got from him.

During my first year away, he’d been “too busy” for phone calls, “too absentminded” to text, and “too broke” to visit Tennessee. After he’d sent that text, my calls and messages had gone unanswered. The very few times I’d returned to Bourbon Canyon, Rhys couldn’t be found. I’d finally given up. My sisters occasionally saw him around town. He was congenial, but he never asked about me.

Three years after I had moved, my next oldest sister, Autumn, had hesitantly revealed that she’d seen him at Curly’s Canyon Bar and Grill with a woman who’d recently moved to town. He’d started dating. Someone else .

Maybe a lot of someone elses.

So, I’d started dating again too, but I still wasn’t convinced our story had ended.

The service wrapped up and an especially chilly wind cut through my pants. I’d worn the cowboy boots Rhys’s dad used to say were my CMT Music Award–winning boots. They had teal and pink embroidery on the shaft and toe, and I’d put streaks in my hair to match.

I hadn’t been to the CMT Music Awards. Nor had I been to any other award show. I waitressed a lot, nannied a little, and sang on precious few stages.

There’d been a few bright moments, times when I’d thought maybe I was finally crossing the starting line, but when I’d left Nashville yesterday, I’d had one lingering thought: After the funeral, after I caught up with my family... should I return to Tennessee? Could I take another four years of toiling away in the slush pile? And another four after that?

I was tired, and coming home only showed me how far everyone else had moved on. Many of my classmates were done with college, living on their own, and working on their careers. Some even had families.

The only reason I didn’t have a roommate was because I received some income from the family’s bourbon distillery. Daddy had asked me to lend my voice and face to our advertising. I was happy to, and the pay was enough to support me while I sang to half-empty coffeehouses and got my ass grabbed in rowdy bars after a set. But I didn’t delude myself. A nepo-baby opportunity wasn’t going to make me a country star.

People broke away from the group graveside. Some hurried to their cars to get out of the chill. Others swarmed Wren to offer their support .

My youngest sister, Wynter, squeezed my hand. “Want to ride back to the church with me?”

She’d driven in from Bozeman and met us at the church. I’d ridden with Daddy and Mama.

“Sure. I’d like to talk to Wren first,” I said. “Give my condolences.”

Wynter linked her arm through mine like she sensed I needed the moral support. My oldest sister, Summer, was already waiting in the group around Wren, but she broke free to join us. Autumn, the next oldest, followed her.

When there was an opening around Wren, I approached, hesitant. We’d exchanged short texts in the time I’d been away, but hers had been sweet and supportive. She hadn’t elaborated on Jonathon’s condition and she definitely hadn’t mentioned Rhys.

Her face crumpled when she saw me, and she held her arms out. I returned her embrace and we hugged for a long time. The pain rolled off her in waves, but she rubbed my back. “It’s good to see you, honey.”

“I missed you,” I murmured into her shoulder. Between Mama’s house and Wren’s hug, my will to return to Nashville was crumbling. “I’m so sorry.”

She released me only to put her hands on my shoulders. Her eyes were red and puffy, but somehow she managed to smile. “I know. Jonathon was proud of you. You should’ve seen how he beamed when he heard your song on the radio.”

Jonathon must have been listening to the right station at the right moment. I wasn’t on mainstream radio, but I’d been featured in a Sunday night program of select up-and-comers that maybe a hundred people in the whole country had heard. Since then, my phone and inbox had stayed pretty quiet.

My mama Starr was dead and buried, but each time I trudged into the bar for a shift, I felt like I was letting her down.

Wren let me go and swiped at her eyes. “You have a manager and everything now?”

If she wanted to steal a moment that wasn’t about loss and funerals, I’d comply. “Yes. My manager, Lucy, found me at a coffee shop a couple of years ago, but I officially started working with her last year.” Lucy was almost the only reason I hadn’t run home yet. The other reason was that I didn’t know if I had someone to run home to. My family, yes.

Was Rhys seeing anyone?

“It won’t be long now before everyone knows your name. You’re not going by June Bailey anymore, right?”

“Lucy thought June Bee was catchier.” A little sweeter and more innocent, just how people liked their country starlets. But it was also another separation between June the singer and June Kerrigan, the orphaned girl whose parents were homeless, the girl who’d survived the same car crash that had killed her parents. That girl wrote songs about the high school sweetheart who’d let her go. I hadn’t shared those songs yet. June Bee wrote about young love and bright futures. Of course, no one was interested.

“June Bee. That is catchy.” Her smile dipped when more gatherers approached. A reminder that she was at the burial of the man she loved. She gave my hand a squeeze. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot. I wish you all the best. ”

Then she was giving my sisters hugs and newcomers were wedging in. I backed out.

Rhys stood ten feet away, his back to me. A few guys lingered around him. I recognized a couple as hired guys at the Kinkade ranch.

I should give Rhys my condolences. We were adults and this funeral wasn’t about us. I walked over, my steps slow and dragging. One of the guys saw me, recognition flaring in his eyes. He tapped another guy and cocked his head toward the line of cars parked down the road winding through the cemetery. They walked off and the third guy followed, leaving Rhys alone.

His head was tipped down and he’d shoved his hands in the pockets of a black sports coat. “Rhys.”

He turned and my pulse stuttered. Being confronted with a fully grown Rhys was a new experience. One I should have grown into with him.

“June.” If he was pleased to see me, he didn’t show it. Grief lined his handsome face and darkened his blue eyes. The short, trimmed beard was new and it fit the more solid, more grown-up Rhys. Made him even more ruggedly good-looking.

“I’m so sorry about your dad.” I adjusted the lapels of my coat lest I reach out and touch him. “How are you doing?”

His expression softened. “You can imagine. How ’bout you?”

“It’s been...” Demoralizing? Pointless? Slow? I shrugged. “One step forward and two steps back.”

“You knew it might take time.”

The way he spoke, alluding to our history, made my chest ache. The light sear of tears touched the backs of my eyes. “Yeah. I just didn’t know how lonely it would be, I guess.”

He looked away. The muscles in his jaw popped, then his denim-blue gaze cooled. “I’m sure you’ve made friends. You always do.”

Confusion mingled with the hurt and the hope. Had I thought he’d open his arms to me like Wren? That he’d welcome me back and apologize for ghosting me after five years of constantly being by my side?

Yes. I had. “I have, but it’s not like home.”

“Home isn’t like home anymore.” He glanced around us. We were attracting the attention of the visitors who lingered in the chill. The burn of their collective gazes seeped through my wool coat, yet I shivered and the movement caught his attention. “Did you get acclimated to Southern weather that fast?”

Like with Wren, I’d take the change of topic and run with it. I was also grateful to be on friendlier ground again. “You should see me walk around in a T-shirt when everyone else is wearing winter coats.”

“Your cowboy boots the only ones that’ve seen some real manure in that town?”

“Not this pair, cowboy.” I grinned. He flashed me a smile. The grief briefly vanished from his expression, and the guy I’d fallen in love with stared back at me. The air between us crackled. Then a vacuum opened. The sizzle was gone, leaving only the cold.

His jaw flexed hard. “Thanks for coming.”

The changes in his demeanor were giving me whiplash, but he was going through a hard time. “I was thinking of staying for a few days, if you want to talk at all. ”

The corner of his jaw popped again. “You know that high school stuff is over, right?”

That high school stuff? Another fissure in my heart opened. “I was offering out of concern for you. I still care about you, Rhys.”

“You don’t need to be concerned for me.” His tone softened but only slightly. “We’re over. We’ve been over for a long time.”

“You lied to me that day.” I winced. I had not meant to bring up the past here. The heartbroken eighteen-year-old in me wanted answers, but she should’ve waited for a better time and place.

“You didn’t want to hear the truth,” he said flatly.

I reared back, then caught myself before onlookers could notice. “You spent the night with me knowing you weren’t going to Tennessee.” My mouth needed to stay shut. Not the time or place, Junie! But why? He didn’t have to go through any of this alone. I would’ve been there for him.

His gaze skated away. “Like I said?—”

“I didn’t want to hear the truth. Right.” I swallowed the hard lump of questions I wanted to ask. Why had he lied? Why had he led me on that last night? Why had he given up? All I said was, “I waited.”

His hard stare met mine. “I told you not to.”

“You texted it.”

The sound of his sharp inhale cut between us. “You didn’t come to my dad’s funeral hoping to rekindle something, did you? Because I have to say that was a waste of a plane ticket.”

I sucked in cold air. Hurt ignited a blaze in my stomach. How could he go from the love of my life to a jackass? The last four years had to have been hard, but the old Rhys would’ve never been harsh like this. “I came to pay my respects. I didn’t mean...” I let out a long exhale. “I didn’t mean to bring any of this up. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He relaxed only slightly. “But you have to know that whatever we had, we were just kids, and I’m not a kid anymore. I have responsibilities, and I can’t just leave.”

“Your text made that clear.”

His wince was subtle. “At least it got you to listen.”

My gasp slipped out.

Regret flashed through his eyes and he opened his mouth. But then resolve filled his features once again and he pressed his lips into a line. He yanked his gaze off me, pivoted on a heel, and stalked away.

I swallowed and my raw throat burned. I blinked back tears. I hadn’t gotten any answers, but I had gotten clarification. Rhys had never planned to leave Bourbon Canyon. Never . I was the fool who’d ignored his words and held on.

Wynter veered away from the group around Wren, her gaze jumping from Rhys’s rigid back to me.

“Are you okay?” she asked, searching my eyes.

No. I was wrecked. For only a moment, I’d seen the boy I’d been madly in love with. But he was gone. In his place was a hard man who wanted nothing to do with me. I hadn’t been ready to hear him years ago, but I was now. He’d get his wish. “I’m done here. Can we leave?”

Surprise flitted through her eyes, but she nodded. “You can send Mama a message and let her know you’re coming with me.”

We walked in the opposite direction of the dispersing crowd. Cars lined the narrow roadway that cut through the headstones. I didn’t bother to look back.

“Are you leaving tonight?” she asked.

I hugged my arms around myself. “Yes.” There was no reason to stay in Bourbon Canyon anymore.