Heartstrings (6 page)

He leaned in. His lips were close enough to kiss, and his scent of sandalwood and something exotic enveloped her, taking her back to that night on the beach. His eyes flashed with the dangerous fire of his temper. It was similar to the flame of the passion she’d once seen in the green depths. She didn’t expect or want the heat curling in her belly, and shivered with a sudden and fierce desire.

“I’m her father, Abigail. I wanted to be her father after she was born. It was you and Mike who insisted I had no business messing things up.”

“I never said any such thing. You never tried. You just left.”

He pounded a fist on the counter top so hard she jumped. “Yes, I left! I wasn’t welcome at home. Dad ran me off with a shotgun. Mike wouldn’t even let me see my daughter. He made it quite clear you and he were happily married, and I had no place in your life. I was under contract to be in Nashville to start recording my first album.”

What did he mean, Mike wouldn’t let him see Emily?

Before she had a chance to voice her question, his eyes darkened as the pupils dilated, obscuring the stormy green. “But I’m no longer nineteen and scared shitless. I could make things very rough for you and this fantasy you’ve got working.”

A cold lump quickly replaced the tangle of heat in her belly. “What-what do you mean?”

He backed off and tapped the countertop. “I’m talking a custody battle. I could have a judge order a paternity test. I think we both know the media hoopla the results would cause.”

Her heart slammed into her chest wall. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Try me. Now that I’ve met Emily, I want to get to know her.” He walked over to look out the kitchen window. The hard line of his jaw melted, and he swallowed so hard his throat moved up and down. “I was a fool when I let Mike talk me out of being in her life after she was born.”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced at her. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

The strings of guitar music provided a soft counterpoint to the hard tension in the kitchen. Emily was outside on the patio playing around with her guitar, waiting for them to finish with the dishes she and Seth had insisted on doing.

“All I want is to have some time with my daughter. That’s all I’m asking for.” When he looked over his shoulder at her, sadness replaced the anger in his eyes. “I’ll keep your little secret. I’ll just be her favorite singer. The family friend who made it big in Nashville. I don’t want to hurt her. As much as it galls the hell out of me, I see what Mike means to her.”

He moved toward her and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Besides, I don’t want to hurt Carolann or Frank any more than you do.” He glanced outside again, his voice husky as he spoke. “But I’ll sue you if I have to.”

A part of her wanted to give in to him, but a larger part wanted to punish him. Let him take her to court; she’d make sure the world knew what kind of jerk Seth Kendall really was.

She gritted her teeth and fisted her hands by her sides. “I’ll let you have tonight, Seth. But don’t ask for more.”

She turned away and strode through the French doors.

Chapter 3

Seth stared at the scribbled numbers on a page of the small notebook he carried around with him. He didn’t go anywhere without a notepad with a stubby pencil stuck through the spiral. He never knew when he’d be inspired with an idea for a song. However, these weren’t the words of the next song to win a Grammy. Written here was the phone number for the only woman who had ever haunted his dreams.

Closing his eyes, he remembered the night he’d left the woman he loved standing on her porch, and driven away.

He hadn’t intended to leave. He’d made up his mind he’d forfeit his place in the talent show. Do what was right, what his father would have expected of him. He’d marry Abby and raise his baby.

But when he’d arrived at Abby’s house, fear gripped him. He loved her, but how did he know if it was enough? His mother had given up a chance at fame when she got pregnant with him. She’d married a man she didn’t love, who didn’t believe in her, and it ruined her. She’d turned to booze and drugs and hated his father and him.

But what if he didn’t turn out like her? What if he turned out like his father? Mean and hateful. Abusive. He’d never dream of hitting Abby or their baby, but what if he lost his chance at doing the one thing he loved doing? What if he ended up trapped here, on the ranch, just like his mother? According to his grandfather, she’d hated the bar scene, the county fairs and rodeos. With her talent, she’d deserved so much more than singing to drunken cowboys. What if he was reduced to that? Would he become the worst of both of his parents?

Abby deserved better than a mean drunk for a husband. She’d spent the last five years dealing with her father’s alcoholism and bad temper.

There was only one option.

“Come with me,” he pleaded, wrapping his arms around himself to ward off the pain stabbing his heart.

“I can’t. How can I run off with you? I have the ranch and Daddy to take care of.”

“We’ll be back, Abby. It’s only five months. Then if–when–I win, I’ll have to do a tour. But we can come back here after that. You’ll have the baby, and I’ll have my record deal. Surely, someone in your family would take care of the ranch. Or we could just hire someone.”

Her eyes glinted in the moonlight as if she would say yes. That she’d agree to go. Turning away, she hugged the porch post. Her soft voice sawed through his hope. “Seth, I can’t leave. We both know it would never work. Besides, Daddy’s dying. He has brain cancer.”

“Abigail...” He touched her shoulder, but she flinched away and faced him.

“We don’t love each other. Not like that. It was…” She looked away and sniffed. “It was just sex. You know...you were the only boy I ever kissed.” She averted her eyes and gave a half shrug. “Things just got out of hand. Now, I have to live with...” She sniffed again as if holding back tears.

He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “I don’t believe that bullshit. I…” But he couldn’t say the words; he couldn’t tell her he loved her. Not with her shaking her head.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking at him. “You go and do what you have to do. We’ll be fine. I have my inheritance. My baby will never want for anything. But I can’t be a part of your life. Seth, I don’t love you.”

He let go of her as he stared at her, and his heart shattered into a million pieces. “I’ll be back, Abby. I won’t leave you. I’ll help take care of the baby.”

He opened his eyes and stared at her phone number. He’d kept his promise, but when he’d returned seven months later, she was married to someone else.

She’d loved someone else.

And his baby became someone else’s.

He flipped the cardboard cover closed on the pad and tossed it behind him onto the full-sized bed. Seth rubbed his hands over his face and stood. Instead of sleeping, he’d spent the past six hours staring at the ceiling.

The light coming through the lace curtain stabbed through his head like a hot knife. He blinked a few times and stumbled to the antique armchair in the corner of the small bedroom, muttering, “I wasn’t even drinking and feel like shit.”

He rummaged through the clothes he’d tossed in the duffle bag until his fingers closed around the bottle of aspirin.

In the bathroom down the hall, he downed three of the pills with a glass of water. As he stepped out of his shorts, he turned on the shower.

Feeling somewhat human again after washing away the sleepless night, if not the pain from the memories, he reentered the bedroom. Crammed with antique furniture, the small room served as his aunt’s guest room. He’d spent many nights in this room after Johanna would take him away from John when the beatings got too bad.

The notebook lying on top of the patchwork quilt drew his attention as he pulled on a pair of jeans. Carolann had given him Abby’s phone number before he left the ranch last night. He should have known she was playing matchmaker.

Seeing Abby again had sent him spiraling. He’d thought he’d finally gotten over her.

How wrong had he been?

No other woman had ever left her imprint on him as Abigail Crawford had. He’d had more than his share of flings and one-night stands. They’d meant nothing to him. He had no lasting memories of any them, not even Amanda Lang, who was the closest thing to a steady girlfriend he’d ever had.

With Abby, he could remember everything.

He finished getting dressed, and headed downstairs. He still had to talk to Johanna about what she knew about Abby and Mike’s relationship.

And what she knew about Emily.

His heart ached every time he thought of the baby he’d been denied knowing.

He shook the recurring thought from his mind, but couldn’t shake off how he felt about Abby and what had happened.

Had that one incredible night by the lake been enough to purge him from her system? Probably. However, she was still deeply embedded in his.

He found Johanna on the back porch of her modest two-story house. Flowers of every color and variety filled the small backyard and hung in overflowing pots from the beams of the overhang. The sweet perfume of the flowers mixed with the earthy richness of dew-covered soil and recently mowed grass.

She poured water into a massive hanging begonia and smiled at him as he carried a cup of coffee with him through the screen door.

The sun peeked over the tall, white painted fence. A dog barked down the street and the kids next door called goodbye to their mother as they headed out the door to catch the school bus.

He sipped the strong brew, suddenly glad he’d let his aunt talk him into staying with her instead of the hotel in town. “I can’t believe you still have this huge garden to take care of.”

Johanna set the watering can on the banister. She wiped at her brow under a big straw hat with the back of her hand, then went about pulling faded flowers off the monster plant. From the dirt clinging to the knees of her jeans, she must have been pulling weeds in her garden. And it wasn’t even seven AM yet. “Remember when I’d drag you out here to help me in the garden?”

He chuckled and leaned against the railing. Bringing him to her home had been her way of getting him away from his father’s abuse. She’d stood up to her twin more than once. Her threats of going to the law or taking him away from his father would stop the belt-whooping for a little while, until he did something to piss his father off again. “I remember. I had a terrible time remembering what was a weed and what was one of your precious flowers.”

“But you learned quickly. You actually liked coming here eventually.” She smiled and glanced at him. “Do you still like to garden?”

Gardening? Hell, he barely remembered what his perfectly manicured lawns even looked like. He shrugged and glanced into his cup. “No. I leave that to my groundskeepers.”

“Ah. Of course.” She snapped off a few more buds.

“What the heck do you feed those things to get that big, anyway?”

She tossed a handful of dead flowers into a bucket. As she propped her hands on her still-slender hips, she faced him. “Okay, out with it. I hate this damned beating around the bush, and you know it. How did dinner at the Circle R go last night?”

“Good.” How was he going to ask what he wanted to know?

“Was Abby there?”

He met his aunt’s bluebonnet blue eyes and let out a long breath. “Yeah.” He motioned with his hand to one of the white wicker rockers. “I need some information. But first I have a confession to make.”

She sat in the chair, folded her hands in her lap, and waited for him to spill his guts.

As he stared at the mug hugged by his hands, he jumped in to the muddy waters of confession headfirst. “The night Dad and I fought about me sneaking off to Amarillo to try out for
America’s Rising Star
, I did something...” He cleared his throat and sipped the cold coffee.

“By the way you’re stalling, I’m beginning to think you killed somebody.”

He looked across at his aunt rocking slowly on the chair and spewed the truth. “Emily Ritter is my daughter.”

She didn’t stop rocking. Her face didn’t even register surprise. Johanna simply nodded once then met his gaze. “Did you just figure it out?”