The Rancher and the Rock Star (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

“A
NY REGRETS THIS
morning?” His voice, roughened from abbreviated sleep, tickled her neck. Abby stood at the counter, beating eggs for scrambling, and grinned. An open window let in the perfume of peonies and wildflowers. Perking coffee added its stimulating dark spice. Her bare feet on the linoleum felt almost as good as Gray’s fingers on her skin.

“None. Guilt maybe. Kim gave me a fairly hairy eyeball when I tucked her in at 3 a.m. She knows.”

“She doesn’t
know
anything. Even if she does, there are things adults who’ve been married before can do that kids can’t. It’s that simple.”

“I was a virgin when I married Jack. I . . .” An embarrassed giggle eked its way free. “Now, why would I tell you that?”

“Dunno. Do you think it’ll affect me wanting to marry you?”

She spun, splattering beaten egg onto the floor. “Marry?”

Gray took her wooden spoon, set it aside, gripped her cheeks, and stared earnestly into her eyes. “Would it be such an unreasonable thing to talk about? I mean, not like we’d do it tomorrow . . .”

“Gray . . . I . . .” Her heart flopped in complete arrhythmia, yet she couldn’t deny the forbidden excitement that filtered through her along with the shock.

He kissed her eyelids, her brows, her cheek, and her earlobe. “We’re good for each other. At least, you are for me—more than you could ever know. I could learn to be good for you.”

“Stop it. You’re already good for me.” She might not have admitted it a week ago, but it was the truth now. At least, on an emotional level.

“Things would be better for both of us. Aside from the fact that I’m completely crazy about you, I could make a better home for Dawson, and we could make things easier for you and Kim.”

For the first time her blood chilled.
Make it easier.
That’s what Jack’s parents had always said. She pulled away, wounded, angry, and embarrassed. “What makes you think I need anyone to make things easier?”

“Come on, Abby, don’t.” His voice didn’t change. No condescension or pity tinged it. “You know how much I admire you. I don’t think for a second you need me—look what you’ve accomplished here in the past eleven years. But as honest as we are with each other, you still hide a lot. Things are tight, you struggle. A lot of people struggle.”

“It doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself or my daughter.”

“Nobody says you can’t.”

“Oh, yes they do. They have.” She spun on him, not wanting him to know what a failure she’d felt like the past three weeks, but unable to keep her fears from him any longer. Tears threatened, barely kept at bay. “Jack’s parents have scrutinized me for years. They threatened to take Kim right after Jack died, because they knew then how much debt I was in. Not that they can threaten to take her anymore, but they will say ‘I told you so’ any chance they get. They’ve never forgiven me for raising their only grandchild on a shoestring.”

“Is that what this is about? Proving yourself to people who just don’t matter?”

“It’s habit,” she said dully. “If they think it, others think it.”

“Nobody thinks it. What they all think is that you’ll sacrifice anything for your family.” He lifted her chin gently. “How did you pay for the well? Abby?” His voice was soft but hit her like a bludgeon.

A tiny sob broke free. She didn’t want to say the words out loud. She missed Gucci so much it made her feel guilty, because she’d lost more important things in her life before than a stupid horse. She pulled away from him, anguished.

“Gucci wasn’t really just out in the pasture, and you weren’t giving him the night off last night, were you?” Shocked, Abby flinched as each word pierced her heart. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“How could you know that? Why would you think I’d sell . . .” She couldn’t finish. Her gaze fell from his.

“I’m slow sometimes, but I’m not blind. I’m so sorry, honey. My point is, you don’t have to keep this stuff a secret from me. I have a good shoulder for leaning on. And let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that you and I were to do something drastic one day.” His smile turned impish. “Wouldn’t it be a nice extra that you wouldn’t have to worry about finances?”

Despite her embarrassment, Abby leaned against his chest and let him hold her while her few tears spent themselves. “I hate that I can’t keep things up. I can’t even keep a stupid job . . .”

“What about your job?”

She groaned and pushed away from him. “You mean you don’t know about that, too? The job at the architectural firm is ending. My boss is disbanding the company. Bye-bye twenty bucks an hour. For two weeks I’ve been pounding the pavement, but nobody will have me.”

Gray snorted in laughter. “All the more reason for
me
to take you. I’ll have you. Kind of like I had you last night.”

“Yes. You did. And if I hadn’t taken you just as thoroughly, I’d be slugging you for that chauvinistic remark, you arrogant jerk.”

“Abby.” His voice, muffled in her hair, contained a smile. “We’ve been good like this since the first minute we met. Sparring with you is like being on vacation. Tell me we can stay together when I’m done with this tour. That we can talk about the future and maybe a new farm where you can keep all your horses and just work with them—not have to pound the pavement.”

At that moment his vision had a powerful draw. “I wasn’t lying about starting to fall in love with you.” She trembled at the import of her words. “But I’m not
staying
with anyone, even you, in order to be rescued.”

She hadn’t meant the words to sound so harsh and for an instant a wounded look crossed Gray’s face making Abby feel cold. But he sighed and nodded.

“I get that. But would you
share
yourself with someone in order to do the rescuing?”

She stared at him, marveling that he’d salvaged what could have been a colossal meltdown. She stepped back to the stove, putting her fork back to stir the eggs. Her heart pounded. “I don’t know, maybe we should talk.”

“Just where were you until all hours this morning, young lady?” Kim’s voice in the doorway made Abby and Gray spin in unison.

Her daughter wore a pair of khaki short shorts and a cherry-red crop top tied at the midriff. Hidden in a thin smile was the glint of wounded anger.

“Hey, Kim.” Gray answered first. “We found a good spot for a campfire and got to talking.”

“Yup.” Abby nodded. “We weren’t worried about you guys. I’m sorry, sweetie, we just lost track of the time.”

Kim smiled at Gray and avoided Abby’s eyes. “Last time I tried the ‘lost track of time’ line, I got a lecture.”

“What?” Abby asked, suddenly annoyed with her daughter’s snit.

“Because you aren’t a grown-up. Age has privilege.” Gray smiled, too, but wounded surprise lit Kim’s eyes. He’d already mentioned the dad-word last night. Having him speak like a parent must have felt like salt in a cut. Still, he softened the blow with his usual suave. “Aw, Kimmy, it was no big deal, and we came back safe and sound. And now, we’ve got some party planning to do. I hear we’re having guests and presents and everything.” He made a bug-eyed face, and Kim, partially appeased, copied him.

“Sylvia and Ed,” she agreed. “And Mrs. Baxter and her family.”

“It sounds great. So let’s get hopping.”

The morning passed in a happy blur of chores and birthday secrets. Gray mowed the lawn. Dawson tackled garden raking. Kim worked two horses. Abby cleaned. It would have been drudgery except for the fantasy family surrounding her, making every task a joyous circus. Gray added to the chaos in her heart by flirting at every opportunity. By the time she’d lost count of his cheeky lines of innuendo and stolen kisses, he had her so turned on she was certain it showed like sun in the darkroom.

She was unsuccessfully diluting her libido with ice tea and devising a way to get out alone with Gray again that night, when she heard the slam of car doors. Roscoe, cooling himself in the piano alcove, gave a low bark, followed moments later by a rap on the front door. Since it hadn’t been used in years, Abby opened it cautiously and didn’t stop Roscoe from leaping against the screen.

Some watchdog, Abby thought as the door opened and the dog waded happily into the group. To her shock, she came face-to-face with the fastidious Chris Boyle. He pulled off a pair of aviator sunglasses and smiled. “Hello, again, Mrs. Stadtler.”

A hefty black man sporting neat cornrows and a bright yellow Guinness Stout T-shirt, squatted at the bottom of the porch steps letting Roscoe wiggle around him in greeting. “Hey, there. How are ya pooch?”

A slender, handsome man stood beside him in worn jeans and a black T-shirt, sporting a neat, brown mustache and goatee, and hair pulled into a thick pony tail. He smiled, his eyes tossing golden sparks her way.

“You must be Abby.” His leisurely voice didn’t match the dynamic fire in his gaze, but the combination was oddly comforting. “I’m Alfred Jackson,” he said. “Most people just call me Spark. I’m sorry to surprise you like this.”

Her thoughts wheeled like startled bats. Spark kicked backward without looking and connected his heel with the wide expanse of Squatting Guinness-Man’s thigh. He grunted and hoisted his two-hundred-fifty-plus pounds to a stand.

“Hey, Abby.” His mouth grinned and his voice boomed. “I’m Miles Dixon.”

“I . . . this . . . ohmygosh,
surprise
is an understatement.” She struggled to keep her gaze direct, as Chris Boyle, his smile never dimming, nodded in sympathy.

“I hope you’ll forgive us. We kind of wanted to surprise our boy since it’s his birthday. I’m sure you understand. He was so eager to come back here we wanted to make sure he plans to return to us.” Beneath the smile was a veiled accusation.

“I have no doubt he does.” Abby challenged him with a pointed gaze.

“What the hell is this?” Gray strode around the front corner of the house.

“Yo! There’s the man!” Miles called as Gray marched toward the trio. They engulfed him in back slaps and rough embraces, their greetings spiced liberally with language that would have made her father call for their salvation. Gray untangled himself and came for her. When his hand closed on hers, warmth and reassurance finally returned her confidence.

“You’ve met Chris before, but what do you think of these idiots?”

She donned her best manners and smiled, unsure why she wasn’t happier to have met them. “Miles, Spark, wonderful to meet you. Chris?” She held out her hand. “Good to meet the mastermind again.”

“He ain’t no mastermind, Miz Abby.” Miles popped the manager on one elegant shoulder. “He’s just got us to follow his ass around and make him
look
like a genius.”

Abby had to laugh. The humor was as genuine as the twinkle in Miles’s charcoal eyes.

“You look right at home, Covey.” Spark eyed Gray, fresh from his stint with the lawnmower, the toes of his old running shoes stained a bright green.

“This is a great place,” Gray said without hesitation. “You’ve already met the dog. Got a cat, some kids, a couple of chickens, horses, chores. And, of course, Abby.”

“I hope you’ll come in and stay a while.” Abby rested her eyes on Spark, which kept her from choking on the words. His easy demeanor was genuine, too, but she didn’t believe for a minute they’d come just to celebrate Gray’s birthday.

“That’s too good an offer to pass up, thank you,” Chris said.

Abby’s heart sank, but there was no taking the invitation back.

T
HEY’D BE LEAVING
soon. She told herself repeatedly that peace would return at least for the night when Chris Boyle took his two charges back to the hotel. The bad news was they were all returning for the party tomorrow. Abby took a fortifying breath and let herself into the house. Gray had stayed in the barn with the kids and sweet Colossus Miles who, it turned out, was as big an animal lover as Abby. She amended her thoughts. Miles and Spark would be joys to have at Gray’s birthday. It was Chris who was medicine show barker, televangelist, and Donald Trump in one overly well-groomed package.

Not that Gray could see it. In the fifteen minutes Abby had been able to get Gray alone, he’d been the one to press her. Why was she upset? What had happened? The only thing she’d been able to do was spill Elliott’s accusation.

“All he wants to do is test Chris’s motives,” she’d told him. “If Chris isn’t doing what Elliott thinks he is, there’ll be no harm. Chris will just ignore the picture.”

To her relief Gray had not been angry. He’d only laughed and pulled her close. “Sweetheart, can’t you see what Elliott’s trying to do? Putting a wedge between Chris and me would be the ultimate revenge. I’ve known Chris ten years longer than I’ve known Elliott, and he’s captained this boat with barely a glitch. I can’t mess with that kind of success, Abby. We won’t be sending any pictures.”

He was right. She headed for the refrigerator and some icy water. She had no cause to believe Elliott St. Vincent over the man who’d brought Gray to global adoration. Gray loved Chris. She loved Gray. Her loyalty needed to lie with him.

A streak of orange and a plaintive yowl stopped her. Bird halted by her legs and raised an indignant head.
Meowwwwl.
This was his reaction to strangers invading his space—the reaction he’d never had to Gray. She squatted, ran a hand over his back, and then heard the voices.

“Do what you have to do to get him away from this flea-bitten dump.” Chris didn’t hear her sneak to the living room doorway. He stood beside Spark in the alcove with vitriol polluting his satin voice. “She’s a gold-digger. She’ll sink him faster than the iceberg sank the Titanic.”

Abby’s legs buckled with hurt and anger. She gripped the door jamb with all the strength in her fingers.

“That isn’t fair, Chris. We can warn him not to cancel any more concerts, but we don’t know Abby. She seems like a wonderful woman. I think she’s good for him.” Tears pricked her eyes. As much as she’d grown to detest Chris, she’d fallen head-over-teakettle for Spark. God bless him.

“No! Don’t you see how she’s manipulating him? Using his boy? Damn it, Spark, she’s playing us for all we’re worth. He’ll give up touring for her, and, what? Mow her lawn for the rest of his life? She’s damn fine-looking, I sure don’t blame him for wanting a piece of that for a while, but he’s not a one-lawn kind of man. And I can’t promise I could get him back to where he is now once he’s tired of playing Farmer in the Dell.”