Bourbon Harmony (Bourbon Canyon #5)

Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Rhys

June was hanging out at the Copper Summit bar with Autumn. She had said I could wait at the cabin for her, or if I really wanted to get people talking, I could stop by the bar. According to Autumn and Wynter, Wednesday nights were quiet after nine. The bar closed at eleven.

She’d be at the cabin in an hour, but here I was, walking into the distillery.

The only open door at this time of night went into the bar. The main entry to the merch shop and the viewing windows for the tanks were to my left. The glass door was closed and only the security lights were on beyond the entry.

Neon signs glinted off the wood accents on the walls and the beams going across the ceiling. The large picture window bordering one side of the bar let in the ambient glow from the lights in the parking lot.

A couple of men I didn’t recognize were tucked into a round corner table opposite the bar. June was behind the counter, her back to me, stocking bottles on the shelves.

She spotted me in the mirror that ran along the shelf. Once the bottles of bourbon she was arranging were in place, she turned, a wide smile on her face. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“It’s as close as we’re getting to a date night while you’re still in town.” I slid onto a stool. “Are you working alone?”

“I told Autumn to get going. She’s still run down from the school year.” June propped her elbows on the bar counter. “I think she’s pregnant and not telling anyone.”

“Yeah? Congrats to them—if you’re right.”

“I’m right. I’ve been gone a long time, but Autumn isn’t usually that worn down, and I’m sure she and Gideon would get an A for effort.”

A knot cinched in my gut. Instead of picturing June’s redheaded sister tenderly rubbing her hands over her swelling stomach, it was June in my head, her curtain of hair framing the loving expression on her face.

I coughed to get the tightness in my chest to loosen.

“Do you need something to drink?” She spun, giving me a full view of her not-pregnant stomach. While I never tired of looking at her ass, I had to avert my gaze. The ache left behind was too disconcerting.

Where the hell had that thought come from? I was a father. I had two amazing kids. Why was I imagining June with my kid? I wasn’t a young man like before, picturing a theoretically older June with my baby in her belly. She’d been in my head. As she was now .

A square white napkin with the Copper Summit mountain logo was placed in front of me, and a glass of straight bourbon was set on top.

“I can get you a glass of water too.” She pivoted away.

Once her back was to me, I took a long pull of the bourbon. The burn wicked up my sinuses and I started coughing. “Jesus.”

Her chuckle was soft as she shoved the glass of water toward me. “Here. Been a while?”

“Yes,” I wheezed. I had the vodka on hand for when the rare company came over, usually a contact from the ranch or an old school buddy. “I usually have a cold beer.”

“You came to the wrong bar, Hot Mountain Daddy.”

I smiled and downed the water. After that, I took another sip, remembering to shut off my sniffer like June had once taught me to. The golden liquid caressed my esophagus, leaving the flavors of vanilla and butterscotch on my tongue.

“Better?” she asked.

“Much.”

Her gaze lifted over my shoulder. “Y’all have a good night.”

Now we were alone.

I sipped my bourbon while she went to clean up their table. When she returned, she washed their glasses.

“Tourists?” I asked.

“Yes. On their honeymoon. If they weren’t so googly-eyed, Autumn wouldn’t have left me.” She rounded the bar and slid onto the stool next to me. I spun on my seat enough that our legs tangled. “She still wasn’t going to leave, but I said that you’d be here. ”

I arched a brow, uncaring that I’d been that predictable. “Do you tell the future now?”

She flourished her fingers by her face. “When I sing, it comes true.”

“Except you sing about the past.”

“Not my next album.”

“No more heartbreak?”

“I wish,” she said quietly. “It won’t be manufactured, that’s for sure.” She slapped her hands on her thighs. “My new manager, Shanita, seems cool. She’s so reassuring about the album and supportive, like of course I’m going to drop an excellent work of art. I didn’t realize how insidious Lucy was about chipping away at my self-esteem. Shanita has taken the reins and is working with my promotion team. The first concert date has been set.”

Dismay dulled the numbing of the bourbon. “That’s great.”

If she noticed the woodenness in my tone, she ignored it. “I told her I wanted all-female opening acts. I want to be the stepping-stone for them that I didn’t have because I didn’t play the game, or I didn’t look how they wanted, or I didn’t act seductively enough.”

“You don’t have to act.”

“You’re biased.” She took a drink from my bourbon. Her delicate throat worked over the fluid as she swallowed.

I curled my fingers behind her neck and stroked a thumb over her windpipe. “You seduced me by just being you.”

She brushed the backs of her fingers over my brow. “It was that tortured look of yours that got to me. So stereotypical of me. ”

I released her to take another drink. “I was tortured.”

“Looking back, I can see how selfish I was. You didn’t talk about your mom and I let you just not discuss your feelings. It was all about me.”

The liquor burned into my stomach lining, and my water glass was empty. “I wanted it to be all about you.”

“Maybe that’s why we didn’t make it.” Her eyes flared. “I mean— I don’t blame you?—”

“It’s okay.” I grabbed her hands. “We were young. Eighteen-year-olds who didn’t know what life was throwing at us.”

“You turned nineteen right after I left.”

“Yeah.” The shittiest birthday of my life. “You were my everything, June. But if the focus hadn’t been on you, I think it would’ve been the same eventually anyway. My path went one way; yours went the other.”

She took another sip from my glass. “Do you think they’ll ever converge again?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if we make sure?”

I’d rather talk about my mom than listen to June give up on her dream. “You’re going on that tour.”

“I am.” She lacked the conviction I wanted to hear.

“You’re going to enjoy it.”

“I’m going to enjoy being on stage,” she clarified.

I spread my hands on her thighs. I couldn’t have her second-guessing anything. “June. You’re going to rock that tour?—”

“I play country music.”

“I’ve heard people argue that you’re not real country. ”

Her mouth dropped open and she gasped. Loudly. “Rhys Conner Kinkade, you take that back.”

“I’m just saying what I’ve heard.” I was goading her, and I would savor the passion that was about to come.

She rolled her eyes. “I know what you’ve heard. All genres of music change over time, but somehow people expect country music not to grow or morph. Do I have to sound like Hank Williams Senior—or Junior—to be considered country? Guys don’t sound like them nowadays, yet you don’t hear nearly as much complaining about them.” Her hands were flying as she ranted. “And don’t get me started on the critiques country gets that dance music doesn’t. Do you hear so many people complain about asses getting shaken in rap or pop music? Okay, wrong example, rap gets a lot of shit. Country is a story-based art, like a lot of art, and I just wish more people could see it. Like, I can read a thriller without wanting a serial killer in my life. I can also like bro country. Yes, actually, tell me to get my sugar shaker in the truck. I want to hear those toxic love songs. You just can’t win sometimes.”

She blew a strand of hair out of her face. Her cheeks were pink with indignation and the fire in her eyes was everything I wanted for her.

I chuckled. “Been storing that up?”

The tension in her shoulders drained. “Yeah. Hazard of the trade. Each genre of music has its battles to fight. Each singer has their own too, I guess.”

“What was yours?” I’d missed it all, and I kept asking to hear it, as if that would make me part of her journey. Anger at myself rose in my blood, but I quashed it. There’d been no other choice.

“There are a ton of tiny battles, but one of mine was early in my career when I was starting to get approached by the big record labels. They didn’t like my songs—or rather they did, but they didn’t think they’d resonate with the public.”

“They were wrong.”

She nodded, excitement making the yellow sparks in her eyes glow. “Some of the companies had people who’ve been around a while. People I was told I should be grateful they’d even give me a few minutes of their time. But they didn’t want my songs. They wanted me to sing about two things. Feminism or pining after a guy who cheated on me.” She waved her hands in front of her face and pretended to cry. “Why can’t he want me when he’s with her? Why didn’t he pick me?”

I ran some of her lyrics from recent years through my head. Her songs were different, like “Emerald Rain,” but I tried to pinpoint how. “And you sing about the emotions of moving on or not wanting to feel that way.”

She smiled triumphantly. “Yes. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a place for those other songs, but the dudes in Nashville think that’s all women want from female country singers. The guys can relate too, you know.” She took another sip of my bourbon and wiggled the index finger of her free hand in the air. “I don’t know if these songs fall under feminism, but the I’m gonna kill my man or burn down his house songs aren’t really my brand. I was approached to record a few of those.”

“You never keyed an ex’s car?” A shame.

“I could’ve written about popping the tires of one of Summer’s exes, but like I said, it’s not my brand.”

I’d lost out on all this. The way she talked shop and lit up from the inside when she discussed music. Did she have someone to listen to her? Who shared her joy? Had her cocksucker exes? I wouldn’t feel so inclined to burn their fucking houses down if they’d done at least that for her. “You stuck to your principles.”

“Another thing that cost me years.”

She made it sound as if there were more reasons. Her work for Copper Summit. Her branding. Was there something she wasn’t telling me? Had Lucy dragged her down? If June hadn’t been nursing heartbreak or getting distracted by man-children, would she have taken off sooner? “Did Lucy hold you back?”

June’s vision hadn’t been heartbreak songs. She wanted to sing about life and love.

Her irises dimmed. “Yeah. Maybe a little.”

That wasn’t the full story, but if I pushed it, I might squash her spark. “Lucy can kiss your ass.”

“Yeah. You know who can kiss my ass right now since the bar is officially closed?”

June

My legs hung off Rhys’s arms and my ass was on the end of the tailgate of his pickup. He pumped in and out of me. I’d already been sprawled out in the bed, on the blanket that had once helped keep me warm when he’d picked me up from the side of the road. He’d shoved my skirt up, bunched my shirt over my bare breasts, then kissed his way down and licked me into a frenzy under the stars and then plunged inside of me.

“I love the way you fuck me.” I clung to his shoulders and kept pace with his thrusts. Our grunts and moans mingled with the rest of the wildlife at this hidden spot of pasture between the distillery and the cabin.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He gritted his teeth. The tendons in his neck stood out and I could trace the veins on his forearms with my tongue. “So damn greedy for my cock.”

Shamelessly greedy. “Yes. Oh god—yes!” I came apart. Stars dotted the sky above us and behind my eyelids. “Rhys!”

He spread my legs wider and slammed into me once before coming. Hot release filled me while I continued to convulse around him. I collapsed back and splayed my arms over my head.

He stayed inside me but sagged over my body, his head hanging. Soft hair brushed above the hemline of my shirt.

I stuffed my hands into his hair and opened my eyes. The Big Dipper soared overhead. I traced the corner star to the Little Dipper. After I’d closed up the bar, Rhys had followed me to the cabin. I’d dropped off my car and hopped in with him. I’d made a comment on the way home that the stars were pretty tonight and he’d driven us to the pasture we used to hook up in. A copse of trees blocked us from the little-used road.

The only downside was that any vehicle driving by would be my family, but these days, getting busted wasn’t a concern.

Despite that, something about tonight felt frantic. Was it me?

I curled my fingers around strands of his hair. He gently pulled out and helped me sit up. I tugged my skirt down and he handed me the underwear he’d stuffed into his pocket .

While we were straightening up, he stayed standing and I got my clothes in the right place and managed not to fall off the tailgate. Rhys would be there to catch me.

The sense that something was off stayed with me. I could ignore it, but I had paid enough attention to Rhys over the years. “Tonight was a lot like before.”

“When we were kids?”

A quick fuck in the pasture that had felt like the epitome of romance? Sort of. “Rushed and frantic.”

He wedged himself between my legs and propped his hands on either side of my hips. The guy continued to be the reason my pussy was pulsing and he’d just gotten me off. Twice.

“There will never be a time that I won’t be ready to blow around you.”

I brushed my hands over his broad shoulders. “Flattering, but this was different than the last two weeks.”

“We’re outside.”

I poked him in the chest. “ You’re different.”

He touched his forehead to mine. “Yeah. We only have a few more days. Then you’ll be the hot guitar teacher that I can’t touch.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I knew the answer, but I had to hear him say it. We’d agreed to these two weeks. We hadn’t discussed the two weeks before I left. Perhaps because I knew the answer.

“I can’t, June,” he whispered. “If the girls see us so much as kiss, do you know how much they’ll get their hopes up?”

I nodded, crestfallen. They weren’t the only ones. My hopes were already floating as high as the stars. Each time I was with Rhys, questions streamed through my head. Why couldn’t we be together? Why couldn’t we make this work? Why couldn’t he try?

My instincts said tonight wasn’t the night to talk to him, just like I hadn’t told him every reason for my years-long trek to country music stardom. He’d already shut me down, but I was starting to see beyond the Rhys he wanted everyone to see. I used to think that I got the real Rhys. Now I knew better.

If I brought up the future tonight, he’d shut me down. He was going to bed with me. He’d wake up to me and we’d repeat until Sunday, when he brought the girls home. It’d be a week after that when I did lessons with the girls again.

No, I’d wait. I wasn’t looking forward to leaving town. Great things were waiting for me. My album was nearly done and every song I’d written was a keeper. I was on fire, but I was also spending every day with the man I loved.

There would be a gap from when he cut me off to when I left town. That was when I’d know if there was any hope for us.