Bourbon Harmony (Bourbon Canyon #5)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Rhys

My night of sleep had been really fucking fitful. A woman I’d never thought I’d interact with again slept across the hallway. Last night, I’d dropped her bags in the guest room and checked on the girls. By the time I’d retreated to my room, June’s door had been closed.

After years of changing the radio station when the first notes of her songs played, averting my eyes at Copper Summit bourbon billboards plastered with her smiling face, and avoiding anything related to her family’s distillery in case I ran into her, June Kerrigan was right across the hall.

I needed to piss, but this old house didn’t have a bathroom in the main bedroom.

Was she awake?

I hadn’t heard a peep. The girls were sleeping in after their late night. Otherwise, they’d be knocking down my door, excited the June Bee was under their roof .

Rolling up, I suppressed a groan. I was fucking tired, but I had to get some chores done.

Since there hadn’t been a single floorboard creaking, I put on a pair of sweats and tiptoed to the bathroom. The reflection staring back at me was of a thirty-four-year-old guy with messy hair, bloodshot eyes, and a couple of gray strands in his beard that had appeared in the last couple of years.

I shoved a hand through my hair. Now it was messy but going in the same direction.

When I was done, I swung open the door and faced wide amber eyes.

“Oh.” Her gaze dropped to my shirtless chest and her pink lips parted. “ Oh . Sorry.”

What did the second “Oh” mean? Was she impressed? I hadn’t been a scrawny kid, but years of helping my parents on their ranch and then building my own, plus a hobby farm, had packed on some muscle.

I wasn’t the clean, manufactured country boy she’d been dating lately.

Irritation itched along the back of my neck. “It’s all yours.”

She didn’t move. Her long light-brown hair with gentle blue highlights billowed around her face. She wore a tank top, and one strap hung off her shoulder. I fought a worthy battle against checking if the front of her top was dipping because of that damn strap.

Her gaze danced from my left shoulder to my right and brushed over the dark hair on my chest. I rocked a faint farmer’s tan on my biceps and at the base of my neck. Some of the recent spring days had been warm while I cleaned up the flower beds and gardens, and the sun had left its print .

The interest in her eyes was like a time machine, transporting me back to when we’d hole up in that cabin of hers and do very adult things to each other. Warmth coiled through my gut and further south until it threatened to give me an erection that wouldn’t go away.

“June,” I barked. “You’re in the way.”

Embarrassment flooded her expression, and she hopped to the side. “Sorry. It’s just— It’s not— It’s been a while since I’ve seen you shirtless.”

Fifteen goddamn years. “Yep.” I brushed past her and stalked to my room. Inside, I could take my first full breath in several minutes. My blood was boiling for a reason other than anger.

Long fucking legs. So damn curvy. I wasn’t the only one who’d filled out.

I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Fuck.”

I dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. When I left my bedroom, I was shrugging into a red flannel shirt when the bathroom door opened and June breezed out.

She ran into my chest. Thankfully, my arms were trapped half in the sleeves or I might’ve done something idiotic like wrap them around her.

“Jesus, June Bug. It’s a small house, not one of your presidential suites.”

Her face went from stunned to mutinous. “You’re right. My chalet in the Alps has a kitchen the size of this entire house.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

“You have a chalet?” Bethany’s excited voice broke between us.

June spun, the soft strands of her hair tickling my skin. “No, I was kidding. I have a place in Nashville.”

I lost the battle with my eye muscles. My gaze dropped to her ass. Fuck .

Two round globes were right in front of me. If I stepped forward, we’d be flush. We’d always fit together so damn perfectly.

“I travel a lot, so I don’t see the need for a big house,” June continued when I needed her to put a lot of distance between us real quick. “But I have stayed in some presidential suites.”

“Cool.” Bethany grinned. “Daddy, can I have a muffin?”

“Yeah. I’ll be right there.” I took one more look at a billboard-worthy ass. “When someone gets out of my way.”

Bethany giggled like I was kidding around. June shot a scowl over her shoulder. She stepped aside with a saccharine smile. “Excuse me, Mr. Kinkade.”

I grunted and passed her, adjusting my shirt, and when I turned the corner and no one could see, I palmed my unruly dick back in place.

In the kitchen, Bethany was staring at the muffins and worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “Daddy, I feel like we should have something better for June Bee for breakfast.”

“Why?”

“She’s famous.”

Fuck me. I pressed a palm against my forehead. “She puts her pants on one leg at a time like the rest of us.” That wasn’t the imagery I needed right now.

“Can you make her pancakes and eggs?”

“I’ll make you and Hannah pancakes and eggs, and she’s welcome to have some.”

Bethany’s relieved grin was my answer. “Thank you, Daddy. ”

I started digging ingredients out. Bethany got the griddle for me.

Hannah entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. Her little feet stuck out from her pajama pants. Clarity wiped out the sleep in her expression. “She’s here!”

She darted upstairs, presumably to change.

I shook my head and continued cooking. Soon, the kitchen smelled of sausage and sweet buttermilk pancakes.

“Morning, Kinkade crew,” June’s voice rang out. I kept my back to her.

“Morning, June Bee,” Hannah said.

“Aw, you can call me Junie like everyone else.”

“Daddy doesn’t call you Junie,” Bethany said.

“Your daddy has called me a lot of things over the years.”

I stiffened. I had used all the endearments on her once upon a time. I steeled myself and faced her. She wore black leggings and a long, multicolored sweater. Thank fuck she wasn’t wearing her cowboy boots, so I could stay in the present where I belonged. “You gonna eat?”

“Sure. Do you need a hand?”

God, no. I didn’t need to be dancing around her. “Nope.” The girls had already set the table. They’d taken extra care with June’s spot and argued over what side the napkin should go on. “Have a seat.”

“Right here.” Hannah did a little curtsy by the chair.

Everything was done cooking. I loaded the sausage, eggs, and cakes onto a rectangular serving plate and turned. The wall I’d built for fifteen years and fortified with steel cracked. Longing rammed into my chest so hard I almost staggered back .

June was smiling, her hair cascading down her back. She was listening attentively to the girls, nodding and laughing at all the right places. Even worse, none of it was for show. I knew her too well. I could tell when she was putting on a performance, during an interview or on stage.

Of course, I had avoided watching all those.

She glanced over at me and her happiness faltered. Her gaze landed on the food heaped on the plate and a light brow lifted. The corner of her mouth tipped up. She found my domestic skills amusing. At my glower, that smirk turned into a full grin.

The girls were watching us.

“Did you know,” June started in an I’ve got a secret tone that had my girls on full alert, “that when I knew your dad, he didn’t even know how to turn on an oven?”

Hannah’s scandalized gasp rang through the kitchen. “He didn’t?”

“Of course I did.” I stomped to the table and dropped the food in the middle. “Sit and eat up.” I sat in my chair and scooted forward with extra force. “Wren made sure I knew how to cook, but I spent all my free time and then some with you.”

The kitchen went silent. Two pairs of owlish eyes gawked at me, and I ignored the pair of shocked amber ones.

How could I save my epic fuckup? I did not need my girls knowing their celebrity idol had been like my other half and I’d felt half-empty since she’d left. “We used to hang out.”

“And do what?” Bethany asked.

June speared a sausage link. “Yeah, Rhys. What did we do?” She took a bite off the tip .

Lust rammed into my gut. “Talked about knitting.”

“You don’t knit!” Hannah said.

“Well”—I shrugged—“you can see why we lost touch, then. Eat up.”

June’s gaze turned introspective, but I worried about loading plates.

“Where’s your guitar?” Bethany asked.

June flipped some stray strands of hair over her shoulder, half of them blue. “In the guest room.”

Excitement lit Bethany’s eyes. “I want to learn to play.”

“Me too,” Hannah said. “And piano.”

“I can do a mean ‘Chopsticks’ on piano,” June said with a smile. “But I can teach you how to play guitar.”

Alarm sent my fork skidding across my plate until a pile of eggs landed on the table. June did not need to be in my house, cozied up with my kids any more than she already was. She was too easy to fall in love with, and the girls were already halfway there with her entertainment persona.

June was hard as hell to fall out of love with. Proximity was not a good thing. “You can’t just make offers without talking to me. I know you’re used to planning everything around you, but I have others to think about.”

The blaring silence made a return.

“I’m sorry,” June said quietly. “It’d have to be okay with your dad.”

The girls shrank in on themselves.

Guilt replaced my flare of irritation. It wasn’t June’s fault I wanted her far away from me. Just like it wasn’t her fault I’d been an ass the last time we talked. But neither of us could do the things we needed to do in life if we were in each other’s orbit.

I flipped the eggs back onto my plate. “I’ve gotta get outside. I’m already late and the animals are hungry. Girls, feed the cats and dog when you’re done.” I rose and stuffed an entire pancake in my mouth on the way to the sink.

Then I shoved my feet into my boots, grabbed my cowboy hat, and stormed outside. The girls would be fine in the house with June. I’d trust June with my kids’ lives, but I couldn’t trust myself not to unearth all those feelings that had taken me years to bury.

June

“Honestly, you don’t have to help.” I lugged a suitcase after Bethany. She was carrying my other one with both hands instead of rolling it. Hannah was struggling with the guitar case. She’d run it into the wall once and almost died of fright until I adamantly reassured her the guitar was fine, that was why it was in a case.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Hannah said, huffing through her haul.

“I wish you could give us lessons,” Bethany said with so much disgruntlement I almost felt sorry for Rhys. He was going to get it from her.

“I’m sure your dad has a good reason.”

Bethany’s stomps grew louder. “He never yelled when I asked to raise a goat for 4-H.”

“I got a chicken,” Hannah added .

Finally, my luggage was at the door. I stuffed my sandals into one of my bags. I’d already dug out my most comfortable pair of cowboy boots that I didn’t keep at Mama’s place.

Tenor pulled up in a pickup. Clumps of mud from last night’s rain caked the sides until I could hardly see the blue underneath. Tenor was the mellowest of my brothers and the youngest. He was also the most likely to stay out of my business if I asked.

The girls grabbed what they’d been carrying before. Tenor got out and dropped the tailgate. He grinned and waved. He didn’t rush to help Bethany or Hannah, ever the mentor for teaching kids how to handle themselves. It was a hazard of the household we’d been raised in, with its multitude of foster kids. Everyone had to pull their share.

I stepped out, ready to leave this ranch behind and forget Rhys’s cutting comment about how selfish I was.

“Tenor.” Rhys’s voice cut through the day. He was walking toward us from the barn. Goats roamed a large pen next to the red building, and red-feathered chickens darted in and out of the open barn door.

“Hey, Rhys,” Tenor replied. “Thanks for rescuing Junie last night. Hell of a thing. Brand-new car just dying.”

That was what I got for buying the first one I found. I hadn’t even test-driven it. “I’ll call the dealership today.”

“Lane and Cruz are going to tow it to the shop at Mama’s place,” Tenor said.

Lane and Cruz were Wynter’s brothers-in-law. They’d been young adults when we’d met them, but Mama had taken them in like me and my sisters and so many other kids over the years. Even Wynter’s husband, Myles, had been one of her fosters.

“Thanks.” I loaded my guitar case in the back and shut the tailgate. “It was nice meeting you two,” I said to the girls.

They rushed me for hugs, and I soaked up the attention. I’d run into a ton of adoring fans over the years, but many of them only knew me as June Bee. Bethany and Hannah had seen me irritate their dad and wash dishes and wipe sticky syrup off the table. I’d put them to work too. When it came down to it, I was a Bailey, and every Bailey did their part around the house. Good thing Rhys hadn’t been in the house to get upset again.

“Bye,” they said in unison.

I lifted my gaze to meet Rhys’s stormy blue eyes. “Goodbye.” I’d never gotten to say it before, not since he’d snuck out of the cabin and all.

“Got everything?” he asked.

Yes, including the imprint of his gravelly voice in my head so it could keep me awake for another night.

Both sets of my parents had taught me manners and I would use them to keep Tenor from connecting any dots to Rhys. “Thanks for the ride and the food. Sorry to intrude.”

Rhys’s jaw turned to granite and he gave me a curt nod.

I took a mental snapshot of the rugged, bearded man who looked like sex in flannel and got into the pickup.

Tenor chatted for a couple of moments with Rhys and then hopped in.

When we were on the road, he slid his deep-brown gaze toward me. “So that was awkward. ”

Busted. “You should’ve seen the rest of the time. He yelled at me during breakfast.”

Tenor’s eyes narrowed. “How bad?”

“Okay, he didn’t yell. He... snapped. I kept doing stuff that interfered with his parenting style, so, I mean, that’s on me. He’s their dad, and I’m no one.” That thought clawed against the divide in my heart. Rhys had never talked to me the way he’d done today. Except for at the funeral. “I offered to give the girls guitar lessons, and he called me selfish.”

I got another side-eye.

“In so many words,” I clarified.

“I see,” he said in a way that meant he didn’t but that he understood I might be sensitive about Rhys and his tones.

He turned down the highway. In front of my dead car was a large truck. Cruz and Lane were hooking my dud to a tow rope. Tenor pulled to a stop next to them.

I rolled down the window and handed my fob to Cruz.

He was almost as big as Tenor now. Mama’s cooking and sunshine were having the same effect on him as whatever had happened to Rhys after I’d moved away. Cruz’s dark hair was long but pushed off his face.

Lane was only a few years older than his brother, but his eyes were more guarded and he was the more cynical of the two. Both he and Myles were wary of the world. Lane was in his midtwenties, but he acted like someone approaching forty.

Cruz behaved exactly like a guy in his early twenties.

“Thank you,” I said to them.

Lane stopped behind his brother. “I’ll take a look at it, but we’re going to have words with that dealer. ”

“You’re the mechanic.” Why hadn’t I thought of calling Lane? Mama wouldn’t have questioned him if he’d left late last night. If he’d even been home. “Thank you. I owe you guys.”

Lane winked. “Never saw ya.”

Good. Tenor had talked to them.

“Don’t lie for me,” I said. “But thank you. I just want to lie low for a while. The spotlight was getting too bright.” I said it in a joking tone, but I was dead serious. I’d been burned. Hard.

Tenor rolled the window up and pulled away. “I got a few bags of groceries in the back.”

“I owe you.”

“No, you don’t. We’re family.” He draped his wrist over the wheel. “Unless I need you to keep something quiet. Then you owe me.”

I grinned. The only thing Tenor would hide was a calculation error in one of his coveted spreadsheets. He was too by the book to mess up much.

I propped my elbow by the window and put my head in my hand. Closing my eyes, I sighed.

“You ready to talk about why you left Nashville?”

No. The fatigue flooding every cell of my body wasn’t just from crappy sleep in a perfectly comfortable bed. I finally had the silence I’d been craving while on my last tour. Silence I hadn’t found in a big city. “Just found out that everyone who was supposed to have my back was just stabbing it, in a way.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“How long are you staying?”

So much was unknown until I had a hearty talk with my lawyer. “I don’t know. I have to return in time to record my next album.”

“When’s that release?”

I bit my lower lip. “End of July.”

He huffed out a shocked breath. “Shit. You can record that quick?”

“I’ll have to.” I’d have to write the damn thing almost as quickly.

“Wasn’t there talk of a headlining tour? Sold-out stadiums?”

My stomach twisted and the pancakes—which had been as delicious as the fluffy muffins—threatened to make a resurgence. “After the album release, Lu—my manager will finish working with the tour promoter and I’ll hit the road.”

He regarded me. Tenor was too sharp to have missed my slipup. In addition to writing a new album, I’d have to find a new manager.

“Mama’s pleased as punch, but she’s worried about you,” he said.

“She’s always worried about us.”

“She knows when to be.”

She was correct. I loved singing. I loved music. I loved playing with the melody and the lyrics and I treasured having something I was proud of at the end. But what did it matter when I was nothing but a dollar sign to everyone around me?

“Remember what Daddy used to say?” I asked.

“‘Bourbon’s making a comeback one Kerrigan at a time.’”

I laughed. “No. Well, he said that too.”

Tenor’s lopsided grin was easy on my sore eyes. “Then you’ll have to be more specific. ”

Daddy had a lot of sayings. “‘It’s the story that sells.’” Daddy used to tell us that bourbon wasn’t just a drink. It had a history. We didn’t call liquor spirits for nothing. Alcohol had the flavor of the land from the grain. It possessed the essence of the oak barrels. The concentration was dependent on time and weather. He said people didn’t buy bourbon because they wanted bourbon. They bought the story that went with it. “I love my job, but I don’t know my story anymore.”

“Gotcha.”

He probably did. But he also didn’t.

My birth mom used to tell me that I came out of the womb singing. When my parents ended up homeless and drove us from campsite to campsite to sleep under the stars, she used to say, “Let me hear you sing, Junie.”

One day, she hadn’t been there to hear me anymore, and hitting my goals had become more important than ever. Mae and Darin Bailey’s support had made it possible for me to achieve them. Only now I was faltering.

I wanted to honor both sets of parents. Mama Starr and Daddy Bjorn. Mama and Daddy Bailey. But also... Was this what I wanted? Navigating the minefield of people and politics and money and sometimes getting burned?

“Want me to bring out the Ranger or something for you?” he asked when the cabin came into view.

“I don’t anticipate having to go anywhere.” Though I’d need some sister time soon. “I won’t hole up for too long.” My wounds were in terrible need of being licked, and after this morning, I had one more scar that had split open.

He parked and helped me haul everything in .

I let out a long breath once I was in the cabin. The floor plan wasn’t much smaller than the main floor of Rhys’s house. There was no basement or upper level. Stacked logs made up the walls, and beams crossed the ceiling. This was no rustic hunting cabin. Daddy had joked that it was his man cave, but I thought he’d built it just for me. He’d known he was giving each of his kids a tract of land. Daddy was the type who’d want his wandering daughter to have a place to hang her hat. He’d known how important having a home was to me.

“Thank you, Tenor.”

He gave me a one-armed hug. “Anytime, Junie.”

When he was gone, I closed the door and leaned against it. I slid down to my butt and stared at the quiet, empty space in front of me. The cabin was tidy. My life was a mess.

I’d never allowed myself to regret leaving Bourbon Canyon the summer after graduation. I had prided myself on not looking back. Yet the heartbreak had followed me everywhere. At one time, I would’ve returned had Rhys asked.

I had used those emotions. I’d poured them into writing and singing. Because of them, I’d done what I’d set out to do. I was almost at my final goal. My own tour.

And yet, I was right back where I had started. Rhys hadn’t waited for me to return. And the heartbreak was still here.