Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch Book 3), page 8
I studied her face, recognizing something of myself in her expression. “I know what you mean.”
Sam glanced across the room to my daughter, who was showing her new stuffed animal to Buckaroo. “She’s beautiful, Keltie. You’ve done an amazing job with her.”
“I try,” I said, my voice catching. “Some days are harder than others.”
Sam touched my arm gently. “Holt mentioned she hasn’t been well. If there’s anything I can do…”
“Thank you,” I said, surprised by how much the offer meant. “Actually, I’d love to hear more about your family—our family.”
Sam led me to a window seat overlooking the snow-covered landscape. “I never met my grandmother Pilar—she died before I was born. My mom didn’t talk about her much,” Sam said. “My grandfather’s mother forced her to leave when she was pregnant with my mom.”
I gasped. “Forced her to leave?”
Sam’s expression was somber. “Family drama from another era. I didn’t know any of this until recently. It’s why my mom and I struggled so much—she grew up without a dad, like I did.”
The parallels to our situation weren’t lost on me. “I worry about the same thing happening with Luna.”
“She won’t have the same struggles we did,” Sam said with unexpected fierceness. “She has you, and now, she has all of us too.” She gestured around the room. “They can be overwhelming sometimes, but they’re loyal to a fault once they consider you one of them.”
“It might be a little soon for that.”
“You don’t know the Wheatons.” Sam’s gaze moved to Holt, who was helping Buckaroo with a new toy. “I’d say at least one of them definitely does.”
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. “It’s not. I mean, we barely know each other.” Again, I heard those words coming out of my mouth.
“As I said before, sometimes, that doesn’t matter.” Sam said with a knowing smile. “Beau and I were friends for years before everything changed in an instant.” She twisted the engagement ring on her finger. “When you know, you know.”
“I have Luna to consider. My business. Eventually, he’ll resume his music career.”
Sam’s eyebrow raised. “Has he told you about the trust?”
“Yes, last night. How it’s keeping him here instead of touring with CB Rice.”
“You know what I think?” Her voice dropped. “I’ve known the Wheatons for less than a year, but I’ve never seen Holt look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
Before I could respond, Luna came bounding over, breaking the moment. “Miss Sam! Can you help me name my unicorn? Mr. Wheaton says you’re good at names.”
Sam laughed, reaching out to touch one of Luna’s curls. “I’m terrible at names, but I’d be happy to help.”
As they discussed what to call my daughter’s precious, new stuffed animal, my gaze drifted to Holt, who stood across the room. As if sensing my attention, he looked up, our eyes meeting over the holiday chaos. Something silent but that felt significant passed between us.
Later, as the children played with their new toys and the adults cleaned up the wrapping-paper chaos, I found him alone in the kitchen.
“This is too much,” I said, touching the pendant at my throat. “I can’t accept it.”
“Might not be easy to return it to Santa. You know how he is about things like that.” He smiled. “It’s called ‘River Under Moonlight,’” he said softly.
I felt emotion rise in my chest, and my words stuck in my throat.
“As soon as I saw it, I knew it was meant for you.”
Without thinking, I rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, both of us surprised by the impulsive gesture. Before either of us could speak, Flynn entered the kitchen.
“There you are,” she said brightly. “TJ’s asking if anyone wants to go sledding before lunch.”
“Sounds fun,” Holt replied, his eyes never leaving mine. “What do you think, Keltie?”
“I should call my father first,” I said. “Wish him Merry Christmas.”
“Take all the time you need,” said Flynn. “I’m thinking after lunch would be better anyway.”
I slipped out onto the porch, wrapping myself in a thick wool coat I found hanging by the door. Snow fell gently from a pearl-gray sky, the landscape stretching, pristine and white, in every direction. The contrast between the quiet outside and the joyful chaos within struck me as I dialed.
“Merry Christmas, mija!” my father’s voice boomed through the phone.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I replied, smiling at his exuberance. “How’s New Mexico?”
“Sunny and beautiful, as always. How’s my Luna?”
“She’s great—having the time of her life, actually. We’re spending Christmas at a ranch outside town.”
“A ranch?” His interest piqued. “Whose?”
“The Wheaton family. Remember I told you about meeting someone who knew Aunt Ursula at the bar? Well, turns out we have other connections.”
There was a noticeable pause. “What kind of connections?”
“Sam Marquez is here—Aunt Pilar’s granddaughter. And the photo of you and Ursula at the original Goat caused quite a stir when they saw it.”
His voice turned careful. “Is that so?”
“Dad, is there something wrong?”
“Not at all. I just miss you and my granddaughter.”
“We miss you too, Dad.”
“So, tell me, are you enjoying yourselves?”
I sighed and smiled. “Yes, we are. It’s a wonderful place. Luna’s playing with the other children, and everyone’s been incredibly kind.”
“I’m glad,” he said, genuine warmth in his voice. “I wish I could be there with you both.”
“I thought you might drive up,” I admitted. “You said you were considering it.”
“I’m at my annual Christmas gathering with the poker buddies,” he explained. “You know we’ve done this for decades. But I’ll come visit soon, I promise. Once things slow down.”
We said our goodbyes after a few more minutes, neither of us mentioning Luna’s hospital visit. That conversation could wait for another day—today was for celebration, not worry.
10
HOLT
The winter air bit at my cheeks as I approached the house, my boots crunching softly on the frost-covered path. The scent of pine from the surrounding woods mingled with the woodsmoke curling from the chimney. The home I grew up in stood warm and inviting against the crisp December sky.
The path I took after Buck and I finished making sure the sled run was ready to go was obscured from where Keltie stood on the screened-in porch, her slender figure silhouetted against the warm glow spilling from the windows behind her. She was talking on her phone, her free hand tucked into the pocket of her coat. I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help myself. Something about the way she held herself—slightly hunched, as if bearing an invisible weight—made me hesitate.
“Dad, is there something wrong?” I heard her say. There was a pause as she listened, and I watched her pace a small circle on the wooden planks of the porch. “We miss you too, Dad.” There was another delay, then she added. “It’s a wonderful place. Luna’s playing with the other children, and everyone’s been incredibly kind.”
The conversation wound down, and I wondered if she’d already told him about Luna’s hospital visit. I was about to step forward and reveal myself, already composing a casual greeting to mask my intrusion, when the front door opened with a familiar squeak and Flynn came out onto the porch. The sudden appearance of my sister froze me in place, and I remained hidden, watching as she approached Keltie, two steaming mugs in her hands. She offered one to Keltie, who accepted it with a grateful smile.
“Everything okay?” The concern in my sister’s tone was unmistakable, and I felt a surge of gratitude for her natural empathy.
I inched forward and saw Keltie nod, then tuck her phone into her pocket. “Just wishing my dad a Merry Christmas. He’s spending it in New Mexico with his poker buddies.”
“I’m glad you and Luna could join us instead,” Flynn said, resting against one of the outdoor chairs.
Keltie smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We should probably think about leaving soon. We’ve imposed enough, and I feel bad about taking Holt away from his family on Christmas.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Flynn said, her voice taking on that firm tone she used when she wouldn’t hear of an argument. The same one I’d heard on the rare occasions when she stood up to our father. “I know I’m probably oversharing, but to be honest with you, life was hard for all of us after our mom died. I was too young to even know her. Anyway, our father was a mean sonuvabitch. Abusive, really. Every memory I have of Christmas is depressing. I don’t remember many gifts, and there was even less laughter.”
I held my breath, surprised by Flynn’s candor. My sister rarely spoke of our past so openly, especially to someone she didn’t know well. The memories Flynn’s words conjured sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with the December air—the sound of breaking glass, the shouting that shook the walls, and huddling with Flynn in one of our rooms, trying to block out the noise.
“Remember what I said last night? This Christmas is exactly how I once dreamed they’d be,” Flynn continued, her voice softening to a near-whisper that I had to strain to hear. The emotion in her words made my throat tighten. “And you being here with Luna? It’s added more to our holiday celebration than you realize.”
I stood near the side of the house, my chest tightening at my sister’s words. She was right—this Christmas had been different. Fuller and so much brighter.
“And honestly,” Flynn added, placing a hand on Keltie’s arm, “it’s been so nice to see a smile on my brother’s face again. That’s a credit to you and Luna, truly.”
I felt a strange mix of emotions—grateful for Flynn’s kindness, but worried she might overwhelm Keltie with her earnestness. Heat crept up my neck at the realization that Flynn had noticed the effect Keltie had on me. Was I that transparent?
While I wanted to join them, make sure Keltie was okay, if I appeared now, they’d know I’d been listening. I remained frozen in place, unsure what to do, the cold seeping through my boots as I shifted my weight.
“Why don’t we go inside?” Flynn suggested. “It’s freezing out here, and I think Irish made fresh hot chocolate. The real kind, with cocoa, not the powdered mix. And I think I saw him adding a splash of peppermint schnapps to the grown-up version.”
Keltie laughed, the sound warm and genuine, melting some of the tension from her posture. “That sounds perfect,” she replied, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear. “We’ll stay a bit longer.”
Relief washed over me—both that I could now go in without revealing I’d been eavesdropping and that Keltie had agreed to stay. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted her to remain until that moment, how much her presence had begun to feel right, here among my family.
I was about to head around to the front door when Buck approached from behind, his boots crunching on the frozen ground.
“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low. He jerked his chin toward the main gates, visible in the distance down the long, winding driveway. “Ben Rice is on his way in.”
I felt tension knot in my stomach. “He probably plans to convince me to come on tour with them.” The thought of explaining the trust situation to yet another person exhausted me.
“I think he already knows why you can’t,” Buck replied, his breath forming small clouds between us in the cold air.
“How?” I asked, my gaze darting to the driveway, where the vehicle was quickly approaching.
“I had to tell Matt Rice about both Cord and Porter,” Buck explained, rubbing his gloved hands together against the cold. “He’s our partner in roughstock contracting. He needed to know.”
“At least I won’t have to explain everything.” I squared my shoulders, bracing myself for the inevitable awkwardness.
Ben arrived a couple of minutes later with his wife, Liv. Their SUV rolled to a stop in the circular driveway, the engine purring before falling silent. After exiting the vehicle, he bounded over with his usual energy, all smiles as he clapped me on the back.
“Merry Christmas, Wheaton!” he exclaimed, his voice booming in the quiet of the winter afternoon. “Sorry to crash your family gathering. Liv insisted we drop by since we were in the area.” His gregarious smile was as bright as ever, even as his eyes held a hint of concern.
“Ben, Liv,” I greeted them, forcing cordiality into my voice despite the anxiety churning in my gut. “It’s good to see you both, and merry Christmas.”
Liv kissed my cheek after greeting Buck. “Hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” she said softly.
“Not at all. Come on in.”
As we entered the house, the warmth enveloped us immediately, along with the mingled scents of pine from the Christmas tree, cinnamon from Flynn’s baking, and the rich aroma of Irish’s homemade hot chocolate. Ben’s gaze swept the room, taking in the festive decorations, the scattered toys, and the family gathered in small groups, chatting. His eyes stopped abruptly when he spotted Keltie standing near the fireplace, cradling a mug between her hands. His face lit up with recognition, eyes widening in genuine surprise.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Ben exclaimed, crossing the room in long strides and pulling her into a bear hug before she could react. Her mug sloshed as she struggled to keep it from spilling. “Keltie Marquez! How the hell are you?”
I watched in confusion as Keltie stiffened in his embrace, her eyes meeting mine over Ben’s shoulder. The color drained from her face, replaced by a deer-in-headlights expression that sent alarm bells ringing in my head.
“So, how do you two know each other?” My mind raced with the possibilities, none of them easing the sudden tightness in my chest.
Ben released Keltie, keeping one arm slung around her shoulders. She looked small beside his burly frame, and I could see the tension in her jaw and the tremble in her hands as she set her mug down on the mantel. “The Goat, of course. Plus, Keltie used to work for CB Rice. She was one of the best sound engineers we ever had.” He turned to me, seemingly oblivious to Keltie’s growing discomfort. Her shoulders hunched as if bracing for impact. “This was right before you joined up with us, Holt.”
The revelation stunned me. Keltie had worked for CB Rice? Why hadn’t she mentioned it? We’d spent enough time talking about how I couldn’t join them on tour.
Ben turned to face her. “It’s good to see you, girl. You left us so quickly I never even got to say goodbye. One day, you were there; the next—poof! Gone.” He shook his head, still chuckling, though Keltie had gone pale, her brown eyes standing out starkly against her bloodless complexion.
Liv stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. Her perceptive gaze flicked between Keltie’s rigid posture and my own bewildered expression. “Ben, honey. Maybe we should talk about why we’re here?”
She smiled apologetically at Keltie, seeming to sense her discomfort. The silent communication between the two women spoke volumes—a shared understanding of when men were being obtuse.
“Right,” Ben agreed, turning to me. “Holt, can I have a private word with you?”
“Sure,” I said, glancing at Keltie, who was already heading toward the hallway, her eyes avoiding mine. The distance she was placing between us left me cold.
“Excuse me,” she murmured, her voice barely audible above the holiday music playing through speakers.
I led Ben toward the library, my mind whirling with questions about why Keltie hadn’t mentioned knowing him, let alone working with the band. It nagged at me, making my skin prickle with unease.
Once we were alone, Ben’s jovial demeanor changed.
“I know about the situation with the trust, Holt,” he said, his voice gruff with sympathy. “Matt filled me in. It’s a raw deal, man.”
I sank into one of the armchairs, the aged leather stiff beneath my weight, and gestured for Ben to take the other. “It is what it is.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue. “Nothing I can do to change it.”
“Remi’s being a dick about it,” he continued, running a hand over his bald head. “Already talking about your replacement, acting like you’re gone for good. But I want you to know something. CB Rice is my band. When you’re ready to rejoin us, you’ll be welcome. I’ll make sure whoever fills in for you knows that’s all there is to it—just filling in.”
The offer stunned me, and warmth spread through my chest at this unexpected loyalty. “That’s really nice of you, Ben.” I swallowed hard.
He waved off my thanks. “You’re family, Holt.” Earnestness replaced his usual bravado. “There’s something else. Those new songs of yours we were discussing? I still want to talk about recording a few. But I respect if you want to keep others for your own album.”
“My own album?” I repeated. “That won’t be happening any time soon.” Without the money I’d make on tour, it would never become a reality.
“Why not? You’ve got the talent.” He grinned. “And you’re welcome to use our recording studio at the ranch anytime you want. State of the art, and it’s sitting there empty when we’re not using it.”
His offer left me speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll think about it,” Ben replied. “No rush. You’ve got a year, right?”
“Right,” I said, still somewhat dazed by the turn of events, by the door he was opening for me. “So, uh, does Remi know about the trust?” The thought of his reaction, if he did, made my stomach clench. He’d never been my biggest fan, and it would give him more ammunition to get rid of me.
Ben shook his head. “Not from me. Didn’t feel like it was my place to tell him. I’m not expecting you to tell him either, unless you want to.”
“Thanks, man,” I said, meaning it. “For everything.”
The conversation was at an end, but my mind kept drifting to Keltie, to the shock on her face at seeing Ben. I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I couldn’t help myself. “What happened with Keltie? Why’d she leave?”
