Bourbon Harmony (Bourbon Canyon #5)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Rhys

I stared out the kitchen window at the barn. The sun was bright and the sky was clear like it hadn’t dumped loads of rain on us last night.

June had left again. Why was I surprised? I’d bitten her head off.

I rubbed my sternum. She’d been her normal, generous self. But the thought of her having a reason to come to the house and teach the girls, to continually tease my brain with thoughts of what if ? I couldn’t handle it.

When I’d seen Tenor pulling up, I’d known. She’d called him because I’d hurt her feelings. I had said exactly what would make her run, and it had been for self-serving reasons.

“Dad?” Bethany tugged on my sleeve. “ Dad .”

“I’m right here, hon.”

She gave me a look that came right from her mother. The I’m talking and you’re not listening stare. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“Who?” As if I didn’t know.

“Junie.”

“She’s fine. She always lands on her feet.”

“You were rude.” Hannah sat at the table, kicking her feet in her chair.

I was supposed to be making lunch. They’d gotten all the sandwich materials out, but I’d spaced at the sink when I should’ve been rinsing grapes. “I was not rude.”

Both girls leveled me with stares. More and more like their mom every day. You’re so set in your ways you’re like cold concrete. One change and you think you’d crack.

“How was I rude?” I knew exactly how.

“You hurt her feelings.” Bethany was relentless. “I was afraid she was going to cry.”

June hated crying. She hated people seeing her cry. The only time she’d felt comfortable sobbing was around me.

Shit. “I’ll apologize the next time I see her.”

“You should call her,” Hannah said helpfully.

“I don’t have her number.” If social media was to be believed, she’d switched her number several times over the years, thanks to hacks and overly enthusiastic fans. She was a social media darling, but she’d had to work twice as hard to get taken seriously in the country music arena.

Or so they said. Since I didn’t keep up on anything June related.

“Dad.” Bethany sounded distraught. “What if she doesn’t have food?”

“She’ll get groceries.” But how? Had she told Tenor she needed supplies ?

She’d said there was canned stuff in the cabin. There had to be a can opener too.

“Can we bring her some?” Hannah asked.

I didn’t answer. I rinsed the grapes and put them on the table.

They each sat, still watching me.

“Why can’t I take guitar lessons?” Bethany asked.

She’d brought up the subject before. I could say I was too busy, she was too young, they were too expensive. But she was old enough to dig deeper. Not long ago, Wren and I had sold the Kinkade farming and ranching operation to one of my old classmates. I hadn’t wanted to give up the life, but she’d seen that after the divorce, I couldn’t balance the workload with being a single dad. She’d worried. She’d already lost her dream of retiring with Dad. I had to give her something to look forward to.

I’d bought the old Dunn place. It was smaller, more manageable, and I didn’t need employees. One wise investment took the pressure off production. I could relax and raise my kids.

Thanks to the sale, I could afford a lot of goddamn guitar lessons.

“I’ll have to think about it,” I finally said.

She grinned. I’d said maybe and they’d inferred yes.

“What should we bring her?” Hannah asked. “Can you make her cookies?”

“What about some sandwiches?” Bethany added.

“Fine. Whatever.” Guess we were going to the cabin.

My mood lifted and the day felt less dour.

No fucking way was I excited to be around June again. But I could gut through one more time seeing her before we went our separate ways for another fifteen years.

The girls threw themselves into making cookies. I monitored their progress, but as I helped them with each pan that came out of the oven, pressure built behind my skull. What if June was vegan or some shit? What if she’d cut out all sugar? Wasn’t she just interviewed about how she didn’t eat dairy or something?

My maybe should’ve been a no . I was staying out of June’s life.

But what if she didn’t have food and was too stubborn to tell her family?

Irritated, I made some sandwiches, going off what I used to know about June. Details from high school. She liked real mayonnaise, lots of lettuce, a shitload of lunch meat, and one slice of cheese. I prepared two and shoved them in a Ziploc bag.

“I’ll get some fruit, Daddy.” Bethany grabbed a baggie.

“A basket!” Hannah sprinted up the stairs and came down with a wicker basket that they usually hauled their dolls in. Bethany was growing out of playing with dolls, much to Hannah’s heartbreak.

“We need something at the bottom.” Bethany ditched the grapes and rummaged through the drawers. She withdrew a cornflower-blue dish towel my ex had detested because it hadn’t matched the rest of our decor.

Once the towel lined the basket, the girls loaded their cooled cookies into baggies. They arranged the cookies, sandwiches, and fruit. Hannah got a can of sparkling juice and added it too.

A picnic basket. This would be a romantic gesture if I didn’t have two kids with me .

Whatever. It was their idea.

“Load up.”

They darted out the door and left me to carry the food. I set it on the front seat and started for the cabin.

Tension threaded through my back and shoulders. June’s car was gone from where it had broken down. Tenor had said they were towing it. One of the guys working for their ranch was a mechanic.

By the time we reached the cabin, my shoulder was cramping. My posture was too rigid. I rolled my arm and parked. Tracks from Tenor’s pickup were in the mud, but the dirt had dried quite a bit. The cabin was quiet and it was a couple of hours until dark. Was June inside?

The girls didn’t hesitate. They ran up the few steps of the porch and knocked. I hefted the basket and dragged my feet toward the door.

“Is she home?” Bethany went to the window and peered inside.

“Bethany, don’t spy.” Did she see anything?

Hannah ignored me and ran to her sister. They both stared in.

We were being creepy. “Come on, guys. You can’t?—”

“Hey,” June said from behind us.

We all spun. June was dressed the same as this morning. She’d braided her hair and it hung over one shoulder. Her cheeks were pink from the crisp air, and she wore cowboy boots. Normal ones that weren’t dyed different colors. These boots were more like her hair. Some light blue lined their seams.

She was so fucking beautiful and, at the moment, attainable.

“It was their idea,” I blurted. I held up the basket. I would not be another one of those men commenting on June’s legs and her looks and how fuckable she was.

The black leggings only teased how muscled and curvy her legs were. She’d always had an ethereal beauty that left me speechless, and I remembered too well how the night before she’d left went. Fuckable.

Men were assholes.

Interest lined her face, and she walked around the porch. Her steps weren’t loud like mine had been.

“We brought you food!” Bethany announced.

Hannah rattled off the items they’d packed.

With each one listed, June’s smile grew. “That’s so sweet of you. I’m afraid to confess that Tenor got me some groceries, but they aren’t nearly as good as what you brought.”

Tenor might be a bachelor, but a guy raised on Mae Bailey’s food knew good eats. I gave June a dubious look and her eyes danced.

“You can go on in,” she said.

I was standing in front of the door, and she probably didn’t want to push past me. I didn’t move. “You were out, and you left your door unlocked?”

“I was in the back, checking the trail to the creek. It was too muddy to trek, but I was enjoying the fresh air and I found a couple of birds’ nests.” She looked around at the sloping valleys to where the creek cut through. Farther out, the land flattened and was turning green. By the end of May, it’d be a brilliant emerald. Her dad, Darin, had never wished to farm or ranch in this area. He’d said he was lucky to be able to preserve its natural beauty.

I opened the door. Memories unlocked as I looked inside. The plush furniture, at odds with the polished wood floor and the log-beam walls, lent a posh air to the exposed wood. The couch and fluffy chair told a person to sit down and stay awhile. The fireplace still had a family picture hanging above it. A framed image of June’s parents and her brothers and sisters before Tate had graduated and left for college.

Stepping inside was like trudging through three feet of mud. Nostalgia might choke me. We used to talk and laugh and make out for hours. The night before she’d left, I’d finally gotten to hold her all night.

The girls shoved past me, shattering the memory like a popped bubble.

Bethany took the basket from me. “Where should I put it?”

“Anywhere on the counter,” June said, coming in behind me and stepping out of her boots. “Y’all hungry? I’ve got a frozen pizza to throw in the oven.”

The y’all was another pop in my mental balloon. A sign that her time in Nashville meant we’d been apart for so many damn years. I shouldn’t be this twisted inside when it came to her.

I’d grown up and so had she. I was a different man, and the sandwiches were a sign that I only knew the girl June used to be. I didn’t know the woman she was now. So why did I feel hung up on her?

“I’m starving ,” Hannah said as if she didn’t have a belly full of cookies.

June folded her hands in front of her. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“Can we, Dad?” Bethany rose to her tiptoes, her face full of hope.

Dammit. I was just thinking that I had to get over the past. “We’ve already intruded,” I said hesitantly .

“The pizza will go to waste if I eat what you brought. I have to admit, I wasn’t looking forward to it. My tastes have gotten a little snobbish and the quality of frozen pizza has dwindled over the years.”

“I love pizza,” Hannah said.

“I guess that’s it, then,” I conceded. “They’ll devour your pizza.”

“What about you?” she asked.

I dropped my gaze down her body, brushing over the swell of her breasts, along the curve of her hips, and then along those long legs. She wore thick socks that covered the bottom of her pants. I’d devour whatever she wanted me to.

My lungs froze. I was checking her out. I spun toward my kids. “Whatever. I’m not picky.” I winced. Would she take that the wrong way? She’d made the pizza comment almost sheepishly.

“Sometimes, that’s a good thing,” she said, walking past me. “But I’ve learned the hard way that having high standards isn’t always bad.” Just when I was about to chafe over her censure, she shot me a smile over her shoulder. “Unless it comes to pizza.”

“Can we go look for the nests?” Bethany asked.

“Yes! Please?” Hannah clasped her hands together to beg.

If they went outside, I’d be alone with June. Everything but the logical part of my brain liked the idea, yet I couldn’t come up with a valid reason why they couldn’t without insulting June again. “Go ahead.”

“They’re on the big pine at the farthest edge of the backyard,” June called after them as they ran out the door.

She pushed the pizza tray into the oven. I ripped my gaze off her backside and wandered to the mantel over the fireplace. A couple of the awards June had won over the years lined the top. Did she keep a few in each house she owned? Was her New Female Artist of the Year in the Nashville home? The Single of the Year in her Florida condo? What about her Country Kids’ Choice Award, was it in her LA apartment?

The girl needed a lot of homes. I would’ve only been able to give her one.

Laughter from outside preceded the shadows of the girls running by the kitchen windows. June leaned against the island with her arms folded, her eyes downcast.

My presence used to comfort her. Now it was the opposite. I had myself to blame. “I’m sorry. About this morning.”

She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I understand. I was overstepping my bounds.” Her pink lips curved up. “As celebrities do.”

Couldn’t she hold my behavior against me so I could stay hardened against her? “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

She fiddled with the mixed brown and blue ends of her hair. “I imagine being a single parent is a challenge.”

“Being a parent is a challenge, period.” I shrugged. “I don’t feel like some struggling single dad. I have Wren, and the girls have friends’ parents who help me run them around if I get tied up.”

“And Kirstin?”

Hearing my wife’s name out of June’s mouth sent my world sideways. Which reality was I living in? I had fought harder to keep June off my mind when I’d been with my wife. “She calls. Between assignments, she’ll come back and stay with me or Wren.”

June kicked up a brow. A lot of people did, but usually I didn’t care, and I didn’t feel the urge to explain myself. Yet today, an explanation tumbled onto my tongue. “There’s nothing between us. She just needs a place to stay, and she gets more time with the girls.”

“I’m glad it’s amicable.”

It was that. “It’s good for the kids to see their mom living her dream.”

The way June peered at me sent my defenses crashing into place.

“Anyway, I’m sorry.”

There was a beat of silence. Was she going to continue pushing? Not many people agreed with Kirstin’s decision to take her wildlife photography overseas, but she was good at her job. I’d held her back long enough.

“Well, if you think a sandwich is going to make up for it, you’re wrong,” June said, thankfully moving on from the subject. “Now that I’ve tasted your muffins, I might need an apology dozen.”

June

The girls were playing outside. I’d eaten the sandwich they revealed their dad had made. He still ate simple white bread, my favorite, and he’d used the perfect amount of mayo.

He finished washing the dishes. I was drying and putting them away while trying not to lust after his veiny, muscled forearms. When he’d unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled the sleeves up, I’d about melted in a pile of arousal.

When was the last time that lust had been slaked hard and dirty?

Right. Never. I’d been with too many selfish men. And before that, way before, Rhys and I had been too young to really understand what we wanted. That was what I’d told myself anyway.

Teenage lovemaking was exploratory but hurried. Innocent, yet at the time so naughty.

What did adult Rhys like?—

Not going there. At all.

“Want me to check on the girls?” I offered and hung the dish towel up.

He was peering out the window over the sink. “No, I just saw them run by.”

I leaned against the counter. He’d apologized and I should drop it, but he had to know I hadn’t meant to blow into his life and create conflict between him and his kids. “I really am sorry about overstepping earlier. I shouldn’t have offered without talking to you.”

“Been surrounded by a bunch of yes-men?”

His teasing lacked bite, but he didn’t realize how wrong he was. “If I had been, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Why are you?” His soft tone and the genuine concern in his eyes made me want to do nothing but spill my guts. I used to talk to him about everything and anything. He’d been my rock.

My family would listen, but also, they weren’t Rhys.

I chewed the inside of my cheek and pushed off the counter. I had my arms wrapped around myself as I wandered into the living area. The corner of the couch beckoned me. I wanted to burrow into the cushions and pretend I wasn’t some foolish girl who’d thought she’d known what she’d been getting into.

“Six months ago, I broke up with the guy I was seeing.” I peeked at him from under my lashes. He was still looking at the window. “Finn Calhoun.”

Finally, he turned, pinning me with a dark gaze. There was a spark of recognition in his eyes, but he remained silent.

Was I really going to tell him the story? I had planned to ruminate over it for a couple more days and then call my sisters. They’d be righteously angry. I’d feel validated.

Rhys wasn’t a neutral third party, but I needed to talk about why I’d left Nashville. I needed to handle my own emotions about it and not someone else’s.

“Finn was cheating on me. Big surprise.” I licked my lower lip and dropped my attention to my twisting fingers. “It was actually. A surprise. We have the same manager, Lucy, and she said he was a changed man. He wanted a real relationship with someone who knew the life, who knew what it was like to get bitten by the writing bug and want to hole up in some house with nothing but takeout for days. He wanted a true connection. So, she introduced us at a party. I fell for him. I fell for it.”

He cocked his head at the last part. “What do you mean?”

He crossed to the chair that faced the end of the couch I was on and sat on the edge. His sleeves were still rolled up, and he propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands .

Words evaporated. I was not telling this mature, virile, handsome-as-hell man that I’d been an idiot for man-children over and over, was I?

But I’d already started. “Before him was Toby. He plays hockey for the?—”

“I’ve heard of him,” he said curtly.

“You can’t imagine how many women he slept with when I was gone playing for shows.” My laugh dripped with bitterness. “Maybe you can. I didn’t. I don’t know how he stayed upright on skates when he was horizontal so often.” I shook my head. “I fell for it again. And before him was Clinton. He ran a recording studio. A normal guy, Lucy said. She introduced us, and we started working together. He liked to fuck other women in the studio. I got to see for myself.” I looked up at the ceiling before I could start crying. “Lucy came with me that day, and we walked in on Clinton and some young thing who thought he was her key to making it big.” I swiped at my eyes. I didn’t miss a single one of those guys. I missed the girl who’d thought she could trust people. “Lucy was my support then too. She encouraged me to pour my feelings out in words. That’s how I started with my songs, so why not use it now? My album Hush came from that breakup. Then I met Toby and I got more inspiration. Happier songs. Then he broke my heart and I was back to writing my angst. ‘A good balance’ was how my record label described that album. In fact, that’s what we named it. Good Balance .”

The girls’ laughter filtered into the cabin. This place hadn’t heard that sound in far too long.

“When I was with Finn,” I continued, “I was opening on tour, but we were working on songs together. Nothing was really clicking—he can be a little set in his ways—and my record company has been on my ass about a new album. After the tour, I was tired, you know? I wanted to just enjoy the breather and not have to hustle so much. But my record label wants a new album. Lucy said I was ready for my own big tour. My numbers were high enough that I could book stadiums and arenas and have my own opening acts. I asked for time. That was when Lucy called to meet me at a bistro in Nashville, and lo and behold, guess who was in a booth kissing a girl who’s still in college?”

More tears tracked down my cheeks. Not for Finn. By then, I had expected him to hurt me. I’d been waiting for it.

“That fucker.” Rhys moved to the couch, sitting in the middle. He put a big, hot hand on my knee. “Fuck him.”

I snorted. “She sure did.” I couldn’t look into those deep-blue eyes and keep going. I stared at my fingers and willed his hand to stay on me. “I was devastated. Again. My manager kept pressuring me to pour my emotions into writing. ‘You know how it is with you. You turn pain into art.’ Her words, not mine.”

“True though.”

Surprised, I glanced up at him.

The corner of his mouth tilted up. “So I’ve heard.”

Warmth seeped into my bones, chasing away the chill of betrayal. Rhys did listen to my music. He might not want to, but he did. Bolstered, I continued. “This time, I wanted to go home. I’d been sneaking back to see my family. Trips that were nothing more than turnin’ and burnin’. My manager always insisted they be quick trips. My team needs me in Nashville, she’d say.” I let out a long breath. “The day before yesterday, I went to her office to tell her I needed a break. I had a big plan to foster my social media and release teasers and maybe we could push the album a few months. When I got to her office, one of the receptionists told me Lucy was in her office and I could just walk in.”

My pulse kicked up and my breathing shorted. I was back in that hallway, listening to Lucy plot my life.

“I heard her telling her assistant about our conversations. They were brainstorming men to introduce me to because she might have to set me up with another loser and entice him to cheat again. The assistant laughed. ‘It’s worked all the other times you’ve done it.’”

“No fucking way.” His fingers tightened on my leg. The pressure felt so good, so reassuring. “Am I understanding this correctly?”

I nodded slowly. “She introduced me to guys with reputations, some I knew, some I didn’t, and then threw women at them until I caught them cheating. And I’d take those feelings and I’d write songs.” I wiped at my cheeks and sniffled. “I trusted her. With everything. And she was only using and manipulating me.”

The tears flowed fully now. I had thought Lucy was a friend.

“I’d forgotten what Daddy told me. ‘Never consider it a true friendship if one makes money off the other.’” I shook my head. “I was so stupid.”

His hand was still on me, strong and comforting. “Don’t blame yourself for someone else’s selfishness. You know your dad would say that too.”

Rhys always knew what to say. If Daddy were alive and I had run straight to him, he’d have said the same thing. Never be sorry you were a good person.

“I had to get away. I walked out without talking to her, packed my shit, and caught a flight the next day. Though not before calling my lawyer to fire Lucy for me.”

“Your daddy would’ve been proud. Your mom will be too.”

I had to drop my gaze back to my lap. His hand was in my view, so damn big on my leg. “I know. She’ll worry though, and she shouldn’t have to worry about me. I’m a grown woman.” Who had trusted the wrong people.

“I can tell you that it won’t matter how old you are, she’ll worry. It’s what parents do.” He shook his head, a line forming between his brows. “This Lucy isn’t going to cause trouble, is she? She can’t sue you or anything?”

“I don’t care about the money, Rhys. You know I never did.”

“I don’t know what you care about anymore, June Bug.”

Fresh, hot tears filled my eyes. That was the real heartbreak right there. The breakups with those exes had reopened a scar that had never fully healed. A wound that cracked right open when Rhys pointed out how much time and distance was between us now.

“I meant other than your friends and family,” he clarified. “I know your family will always be the most important.”

“But they haven’t always been.” To get to where I was, I’d had to put my family life on the back burner. I’d had to play the game. And I’d lost. I had traded myself for fame and a fortune that left me empty. “I have four homes, Rhys. Five with the cabin. I wanted a stable place in each corner of the country, but I remember feeling more secure in a tent with my sisters and my birth parents. I try to write and nothing comes anymore.”

I had it all. But I had nothing.

The tears continued to fall. “I just had to come home. I have to figure out what I really want to do with my life.”

The door banged open.

Rhys didn’t jerk away from me. His back was to the girls, and I ducked my head to keep them from seeing my tear-streaked face. He looked over his shoulder. “You two wanna go outside for a little longer? I’ve gotta discuss practice times with June for guitar lessons.”

“Lessons?” Bethany’s question was full of disbelief.

“If you play outside for a little longer.”

“Yay!” they cried in unison and rushed back out the door.

He was too generous. I’d love to give lessons, but he didn’t want to deal with me. “You don’t have to?—”

“I can’t take it back, June Bug, so I hope to hell you were serious about teaching them.”

A wave of excitement cooled the heat of my emotions. “Yes, I’d love to. I miss teaching kids. I used to do that when I first moved to Nashville. Well, music tutors grow on trees out there. I was a nanny who taught music lessons.”

“I thought you worked at a restaurant.”

“I did both. Until I met Lucy.”

“Fuck Lucy. She’s your lawyer’s problem now.”

I smiled. “Lucy made sure everyone else fucked.”

His pupils darkened and his gaze dipped to his hand. He yanked it off like he’d been burned and rose. Pacing in front of the couch, he shoved that hand through his hair and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You want to write. That’s what’s bothering you, right?”

I nibbled the inside of my cheek. “I do love to write music.”

“And that album will get you a tour?”

Not a tour, my tour. I nodded.

He dropped to a squat in front of me and rested his arms on his powerful thighs. “You still want that tour, don’t you?”

Did I want the tour? Or did I want to please the memories of my birth parents? Was I afraid to let down the family who’d supported me along the way?

Or did I want to share my music, songs I’d written and performed, with others who shared those same emotions with me? The same hopes and dreams?

More importantly, did my reasons have to be exclusive?

“I want it,” I said hoarsely, finally able to verbalize what had been twisting inside me. The do I or don’t I . Yes, I wanted that fucking tour. I’d worked for it. Lucy might’ve manipulated me, but it was my pain in the words I sang. My heart. I would complete this album and go on tour to show her that I didn’t need manufactured heartbreak to be good at what I do.

And because I had nothing else.

“I want my songs to be there when people feel like they have nothing else.”

“Like the accident.”

“Like the accident.” I ran my thumb over a fingernail, memories of the crash that took my parents going through my mind. The terror. The crying. The darkness. Mama Starr and Daddy Bjorn hadn’t been able to tell us everything would be okay. So I’d sang. My little voice had shaken, but my efforts had quieted the sobs. “And because it’s been such a long road. I want to be the one with opening acts. I want to be the one that tens of thousands of people buy tickets for. Because that means I have a voice. Not for the audience but in my career. I can be the one telling promoters who my opening acts will be. I can be the hand up for others instead of having doors shut in my face.”

I wasn’t in it for the fame and money, but I needed those two things to get the freedom to be an artist and not just a puppet. If I’d let someone shove their hand up my ass years ago and control me, I would’ve been so much further in my career by now. But then it wouldn’t have been my career. I needed to connect with my fans on my own terms.

“When do you have to be in Nashville again?” he asked.

“If the timeline isn’t changing, I have to be back by the end of June.” Two months to write ten songs? Just thinking about it made the words dry up.

But I’d do it. I was home, breathing fresh Montana air and surrounded by people who really cared about me. Rhys included.

He rose, one knee cracking. “Weekends work the best until school’s out, except for the two weeks they get with Wren. So unless their mother comes back for a surprise visit, pick your time.”

He didn’t make it sound like Kirstin planned to return anytime soon. “Want me to start next weekend?”

He leveled a steady gaze on me. Deep in his eyes, I saw the resistance. He didn’t want me to start ever . He probably regretted picking me up on the side of the road. But he wouldn’t go back on his word. This time.