Mind Games, page 21
“Doggie. Daddy, please!”
“Me first. You ride.”
Braydon agilely climbed around to ride his father’s back. “I really need this hand,” he said, but held it out for Bunk to sniff.
Skipping the sniff part of the introduction, Bunk angled so Ty’s hand lay on top of his head, then pressed against it until that hand rubbed.
“Okay, pal, you be gentle.”
Bray slid down Ty’s back, pushed through his legs. And all but fell on Bunk. “Love doggie!”
“I’d say that’s mutual. He really does love kids.” She could see boxes in the big car. “You drove down from Philadelphia?”
“Yeah. Tell me why I thought that was a good idea with a four-year-old.”
“Well, you’ll want your car here, so there’s that. Still, a long trip. I’m sure you’re tired, so I won’t keep you. If there’s anything I can do while you’re here, I’m about a quarter mile back, right off this lane.”
“Appreciate it. Say bye, Bray.”
“Wanna go with Bunk.”
“Bunk has to take his nap.” Thea caught Ty’s look of gratitude for the easy out. “But he’ll come back and visit another time. Say bye, Bunk.”
The dog sat, waved his paw.
“We’re just up the lane,” she reminded Ty. “Welcome to Redbud Hollow.”
She had to force herself not to look back. All these years, she thought, Miss Leona had never said anything about Tyler Brennan, rock star, songwriter, Grammy winner, being her great-grandson.
Of course, she couldn’t recall gushing over him and his music to Miss Leona.
But still!
Now her teenage crush would stay—a few days, a couple weeks?—almost within shouting distance. With his little boy. She hadn’t known he had a little boy. Of course, she hadn’t kept up with Tyler Brennan’s life and times.
Very much.
She thought of the work she had to do, and she’d do it. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t throw some dinner together. After all, the man had come all the way from Philadelphia, with a preschooler in tow.
The least she could do as a neighbor was save him from making a meal.
* * *
He didn’t know if the giant dog napped, but by the time Ty had made up a bed, Bray conked.
He said a quiet hallelujah.
While his son slept, he unpacked the essentials. Stored away the food basics he’d stopped for in what turned out to be a pristine refrigerator, pristine cupboards.
He’d expected to have to deal with some of the cleaning himself, and wondered if he owed the long-legged Thea and her family yet another thanks.
The estate lawyer had dealt with all Leona’s files and paperwork. His granny had been meticulous there. And her instructions upon her death clearly spelled out.
She’d wanted him to have this house, this land. He wondered: If she’d died before Braydon came into his life, would he have sold it? Kept it for a kind of vacation hideaway?
He honestly didn’t know.
But Braydon had come into his life, and a woman he’d loved had wanted this for him.
So they’d see.
They had the summer ahead of them to see how they’d fit.
His parents thought he’d lost his mind. But then again, they’d thought the same thing when he’d wanted to make music his life’s work.
His grandmother had stepped far away from Redbud Hollow, and had no emotional attachment here. While fond of her mother, Willa Rowe Brennan hadn’t felt a strong connection to her roots.
And since he’d been born and raised in Philadelphia, Ty’s father had felt no connection at all.
Obligation, yes. William Tyler Brennan had done what he considered his duty to his grandmother in Kentucky.
For whatever reason, Ty always had felt the connection. To the woman, certainly. And to the place? He wasn’t sure except he’d enjoyed his brief visits.
Not even brief ones in the last few years, he admitted, and felt that pang of regret. But Braydon, and complications, and life.
Remembering those visits, he walked through the house. Less than half—considerably less than half—the size of his place in Philadelphia, but he could fix that if he and Bray decided to stay.
Some rearranging needed, especially when his piano arrived. Cheaper and more efficient to buy one locally, but he was attached to his own. Oddly enough, he’d written “Ever Yours,” the song Thea had mentioned, on that piano, and it had been Code Red’s first major hit.
So much room, he thought, for Bray to run. And yeah, maybe nearly time to get the puppy his boy yearned for.
A reasonably sized puppy that would grow into a reasonably sized dog. And not an enormous, white-chested black mountain.
He went upstairs again, looked in on Bray. Out like a light, and no surprise there. In the bedroom he’d chosen, he made up the bed. Thought about taking a shower, but made the mistake of stretching out first. Just for a minute.
Just for a minute lasted an hour until Bray bounced on him.
“Time to wake up!”
“What? Why?”
Wrapping his arms around Bray, he shifted, snuggled him in, made Bray giggle.
After the expected wrestling and rib-tickling, Ty hauled him up.
“I’m hungry!”
“Yeah, me, too.” And he didn’t have it in him to drive into town, find dinner as he’d half planned.
But he had peanut butter, jelly, bread, some lunch meat, milk, frozen pizza, and cans of SpaghettiOs, ravioli.
They’d absolutely not starve.
“Let’s go down and figure it out.”
Bray, all energy, bounced in his father’s arms. “Can we go see Bunk?”
“Let’s give that a day or two, pal. We’ve got to get organized.”
“I’m organized.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not. We’re going to take it easy tonight, but tomorrow we’re men at work.”
Had to make room for the piano—first priority. Figure out where to put what. He knew his granny had kept a garden, but he didn’t see himself planting anything. If they stayed, maybe. But there was a lawn to mow, and general yard work.
The third bedroom didn’t rank above a good-sized closet. The size and the proximity to Bray’s bedroom made it a bad choice for a studio.
Since he couldn’t see them using the dining room for dining, that seemed the logical choice.
He’d figure it out.
Right now, he wanted a beer. It might not be the best accompaniment for SpaghettiOs, but he wanted a damn beer.
He’d just opened the fridge when someone knocked on the front door.
“I get! I get!”
“Braydon, what’s the rule?”
Bray blew out a small wind of air. “Don’t open the door without Daddy.”
“Right.” Ty closed the fridge, took Bray’s hand to walk to the door.
The long-legged dark-haired beauty and her enormous dog stood on the porch.
Bray immediately fell on the dog’s neck again.
“I just wanted to drop something off. Traveling in, unpacking, I thought you might not have the time or energy to make dinner.”
She offered him a wicker basket that smelled like heaven.
“What is that smell? It’s amazing.”
“Oh, it’s just some skillet pork chops and potatoes.”
“Pork chops? You made us pork chops? Seriously? Sorry, come in.”
“No, no, thanks. I just wanted to drop it off. And there’s some eggs for tomorrow, in case you don’t have any. I have chickens.”
“You have chickens.” She looked like a blue-eyed country goddess, he thought, and she had chickens.
“Chickens poop eggs,” Bray said.
“They sort of do. But these are nice and clean. I hope y’all enjoy. You can drop the basket and dish back anytime. Just leave them on the porch if I’m not home. Come on, Bunk.”
For a minute, as she walked back to a spiffy red convertible, his addled brain couldn’t come up with her name. Then it did.
“Thea. Thank you. You saved two starving men from a sad dinner of canned pasta.”
She smiled as the dog leaped into the back seat. “Glad I could come to the rescue.”
After she drove back up the gravel lane, Ty closed the door.
“My man? We’re about to eat like kings.”
He took the basket into the kitchen, opened it.
Besides the amazing scent of a hot meal, she’d tucked in a candle that smelled like vanilla beans, and a little clutch of flowers in a tiny bottle.
“Like kings,” he said again.
* * *
Thea couldn’t help herself. The one person on the planet who’d understand her current state of disbelief wrapped in euphoria had been her best friend for fifteen years.
She texted Maddy.
What are you doing?
The response took just under a minute, but in Thea’s current state felt like an hour.
Giving thanks my shift at the clinic’s now over, and trying to decide whether to make myself a peanut butter and banana sandwich or open a can of ravioli.
Forget those slightly disgusting food choices and come here. I made pork chops. AND!!! I have big news.
What news?
Big must tell you in person news. Come over. I also have wine.
I’m in for the chops and the wine. Give me a hint on the news.
Nope. You get nothing until you get here.
I’d say that’s mean except I’m getting food and drink. Omw.
Considering Maddy had an apartment in town, Thea judged she had more than enough time to set the table, put on music—obviously Code Red—feed Bunk and the chickens.
She’d just poured the wine when Maddy came in the front door.
“There’s a car at Miss Leona’s. The great-grandson? That’s the big news?”
“Part of it.” Thea handed over a glass of wine.
Maddy wore her hair in locs these days. She’d changed out of her doctor-at-work clothes into calf-length sweatpants and a short-sleeved hoodie, both in bright, bold pink.
She had half a dozen studs running along both earlobes.
“I’m sitting. On my feet since eight this morning. Sitting out on your porch so I can enjoy my wine and you spill the news I don’t have to be psychic to see you can barely hold in.”
She ran a hand over Bunk as she strolled out. Then let out a huge sigh as she sat in one of Thea’s summer-sky-blue porch chairs.
“I’m guessing you met him, so what’s he like? Got a kid, right? How long are they staying? Putting the house up for sale? I’d buy it myself so we could Mr. Rogers it. Won’t you be my neighbor? But you’re just too far out from the clinic.”
“And Doctor Dreamboat. When are you going to give Arlo a break and marry him?”
Maddy smiled her smug smile. “I’m closing in on living together. Maybe, say, this fall. We’ll give that a year once I do, and see how it goes.” She slid a look toward Thea. “Or you could just tell me.”
“I’m not Madame Carlotta with her crystal ball. And I’m not looking into your future if I could. But”—Thea toasted with her wine, then drank—“I know a close-to-perfect match when I see one.”
“Why only ‘close to’?”
“I’m not sure there are many absolutely perfect ones.”
Her parents, she thought, but they’d been robbed of all the decades they might have had together.
“Okay, I’ve stalled you long enough. What’s with the next gen down the lane? Tall, dark, and handsome?”
“Tall, handsome, and the little boy’s not only a mirror image, but adorable. They drove down from Philadelphia with a lot of boxes in the car, so I think they’re planning on staying awhile.”
She sipped wine again. “I didn’t look, at least not deliberately, but I could feel how much he loves his son. Bunk scared him—not the boy but the dad.”
“Sweetest dog ever.” Maddy made kissy noises that had Bunk’s tail swishing. “But he’s big as a house, so I see that as first reaction.”
“He loved Miss Leona, too, the great-grandson. Just a lot of emotion I didn’t manage to block out. Love, guilt, regret.”
Eyes narrowed, Maddy pointed. “You, Thea Fox, are smitten! You who never get smitten got smitten in five minutes.”
“Oh, it’s been a lot longer than five minutes. He’s been in my life and heart for years.”
“I know everyone who’s been in your life and heart, and none of them are Miss Leona’s great-grandson.”
“Well, you missed one.” Tilting her head, Thea listened to the music rocking through the windows. “One look,” she sang, “one word, one touch, and lightning strikes.”
“Save the concert. Who the hell is he?”
Thea laughed. “You must be tired not to catch on. Miss Leona’s great-grandson is … drumroll. Tyler Brennan. Code Red, Maddy. My teenage crush Tyler Brennan.”
“Get out!” Reaching over, Maddy gave Thea’s arm a slap. “No possible way.”
“I couldn’t believe it myself, but there he was. God, God! He’s so good-looking even all rumpled from traveling. I almost squealed. Inside I did, many times, but I managed to maintain. Then there was a giggle, right in here.” She tapped her fingers at the base of her throat. “I held it back. Barely. I might’ve drooled,” she considered. “I really hope not, but I might’ve.”
“Holy hot shit. Miss Leona had a rock star in the family and never said?”
“I don’t think she thought of him that way. Plus, she didn’t talk much about her family. Little things, like going up for Christmas, or how he called her every week. But she didn’t share a lot in that area.”
Thea lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “I took them down half the skillet pork chops and potatoes and leather breeches.”
“Come on. Are you serious?”
“I’d have done that even if he hadn’t been Ty Brennan. He’d driven down here with a little boy, looked so tired, had all that unloading to do. But I’m not ashamed to admit I kept thinking how I was making dinner for Ty Brennan when I made dinner for Ty Brennan, and Braydon. His son’s Braydon.”
“It’s going to take me awhile to wrap my head around this. Are you going to make a move on him?”
“Oh, stop.” Laughing, Thea shook back her hair. “We’re neighbors, and that’s thrill enough, even though that’s probably temporary. And the really adorable little boy must have a mother somewhere.”
“My knowledge of him and the band isn’t as extensive as yours, but I know he kept his personal life private—must’ve gotten that from Miss Leona. And since the band broke up, I haven’t heard much about it.”
“He’s been mostly songwriting the last few years. But that’s all I know. I’ve been a little too busy for celebrity crushes.”
“We could find out. No, not that way,” she said at Thea’s look. “Google knows all, tells all. Or close enough.”
“I’m not going to google him. That’s just rude.”
“I have no problem being rude.”
Maddy pulled out her phone, and googled.
“Not a whole lot after the basic history, where he grew up, forming the band, hitting it big at nineteen. I’m not seeing any mention of the kid here, so that’s keeping the door locked. But, Jesus, Thea, I didn’t know he’d written all these. Hasn’t recorded or performed in the last couple, three years, but he’s written some hits. Like ‘Crazytown.’ I love that song. Oh, and ‘No Regrets.’”
“Put that away. Let’s go eat.”
“Since I’m starving, I’ll dig more later. This was definitely big, in-person news. One more thing,” Maddy said as she rose. “If you don’t put some moves on him, you’re going to regret it forever.”
“He’s a single father—most likely—trying to settle his great-grandmother’s affairs, and obviously a very private person.”
“So what? If he blocks the move, you accept. But if he doesn’t?” Maddy added a shoulder wiggle. “Teenage dream fulfilled.”
“Shut up and come eat your pork chops.”
Chapter Fifteen
She dreamed of him that night, dreamed of Ty sitting on her porch playing his guitar while the sunset turned the western sky into a palette of pinks and golds.
The summer breeze wafted the scents of lavender, rosemary, heliotrope. It set the witch bottles on their branches ringing, and the wind chimes sent out a quiet bong.
Of course he sang “Ever Yours,” the song that had always made her heart sigh, and when he sang, he smiled at her. Only her, those green eyes full of warmth.
A harmless dream, so she burrowed into it, feeling light, happy, maybe just a little foolish.
In the way of her dreams, she saw him so clearly. The way his hair fell, always carelessly sexy. The line of his jaw, the long fingers moving over frets and strings.
The shape of his mouth, then the feel of it when he leaned over to touch it lightly to hers.
Just a dream, and harmless, even though that light kiss stirred inside her so in sleep, she sighed.
The shadows in the woods lengthened as the sun dipped lower and lower behind the mountains.
And in those woods, something cried out as the predator took the prey.
The pink and gold of the sky turned to a bruised gray as storm clouds rolled in.
Ray Riggs stepped out of the woods.
He wore his prison blues, and though his face remained thin, it held a doughiness. Deep lines scored the sides of his mouth, fanned out from those pale blue eyes.
Still those eyes smiled, smiled with nothing to do with humor.
“Got yourself some guitar-playing pansy? Waiting for moonlight so he can fuck you? Want your romance before you roll over for him?”
“We have to go inside. Ty, we have to go inside and lock the doors.”
But Ty kept playing his guitar.
“He don’t see me, you stupid bitch. I’m in your head, just like always. Watch this.”
He had a gun in his hand. The gun, the same gun he’d used to murder her parents. She leaped up, screaming even as he fired.
But he didn’t fire at her. The guitar fell as blood bloomed on Ty’s shirt. He looked at her, no warmth left in those green eyes.
“It’s your fault,” he said. “You let him in. This is your fault.”
“Me first. You ride.”
Braydon agilely climbed around to ride his father’s back. “I really need this hand,” he said, but held it out for Bunk to sniff.
Skipping the sniff part of the introduction, Bunk angled so Ty’s hand lay on top of his head, then pressed against it until that hand rubbed.
“Okay, pal, you be gentle.”
Bray slid down Ty’s back, pushed through his legs. And all but fell on Bunk. “Love doggie!”
“I’d say that’s mutual. He really does love kids.” She could see boxes in the big car. “You drove down from Philadelphia?”
“Yeah. Tell me why I thought that was a good idea with a four-year-old.”
“Well, you’ll want your car here, so there’s that. Still, a long trip. I’m sure you’re tired, so I won’t keep you. If there’s anything I can do while you’re here, I’m about a quarter mile back, right off this lane.”
“Appreciate it. Say bye, Bray.”
“Wanna go with Bunk.”
“Bunk has to take his nap.” Thea caught Ty’s look of gratitude for the easy out. “But he’ll come back and visit another time. Say bye, Bunk.”
The dog sat, waved his paw.
“We’re just up the lane,” she reminded Ty. “Welcome to Redbud Hollow.”
She had to force herself not to look back. All these years, she thought, Miss Leona had never said anything about Tyler Brennan, rock star, songwriter, Grammy winner, being her great-grandson.
Of course, she couldn’t recall gushing over him and his music to Miss Leona.
But still!
Now her teenage crush would stay—a few days, a couple weeks?—almost within shouting distance. With his little boy. She hadn’t known he had a little boy. Of course, she hadn’t kept up with Tyler Brennan’s life and times.
Very much.
She thought of the work she had to do, and she’d do it. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t throw some dinner together. After all, the man had come all the way from Philadelphia, with a preschooler in tow.
The least she could do as a neighbor was save him from making a meal.
* * *
He didn’t know if the giant dog napped, but by the time Ty had made up a bed, Bray conked.
He said a quiet hallelujah.
While his son slept, he unpacked the essentials. Stored away the food basics he’d stopped for in what turned out to be a pristine refrigerator, pristine cupboards.
He’d expected to have to deal with some of the cleaning himself, and wondered if he owed the long-legged Thea and her family yet another thanks.
The estate lawyer had dealt with all Leona’s files and paperwork. His granny had been meticulous there. And her instructions upon her death clearly spelled out.
She’d wanted him to have this house, this land. He wondered: If she’d died before Braydon came into his life, would he have sold it? Kept it for a kind of vacation hideaway?
He honestly didn’t know.
But Braydon had come into his life, and a woman he’d loved had wanted this for him.
So they’d see.
They had the summer ahead of them to see how they’d fit.
His parents thought he’d lost his mind. But then again, they’d thought the same thing when he’d wanted to make music his life’s work.
His grandmother had stepped far away from Redbud Hollow, and had no emotional attachment here. While fond of her mother, Willa Rowe Brennan hadn’t felt a strong connection to her roots.
And since he’d been born and raised in Philadelphia, Ty’s father had felt no connection at all.
Obligation, yes. William Tyler Brennan had done what he considered his duty to his grandmother in Kentucky.
For whatever reason, Ty always had felt the connection. To the woman, certainly. And to the place? He wasn’t sure except he’d enjoyed his brief visits.
Not even brief ones in the last few years, he admitted, and felt that pang of regret. But Braydon, and complications, and life.
Remembering those visits, he walked through the house. Less than half—considerably less than half—the size of his place in Philadelphia, but he could fix that if he and Bray decided to stay.
Some rearranging needed, especially when his piano arrived. Cheaper and more efficient to buy one locally, but he was attached to his own. Oddly enough, he’d written “Ever Yours,” the song Thea had mentioned, on that piano, and it had been Code Red’s first major hit.
So much room, he thought, for Bray to run. And yeah, maybe nearly time to get the puppy his boy yearned for.
A reasonably sized puppy that would grow into a reasonably sized dog. And not an enormous, white-chested black mountain.
He went upstairs again, looked in on Bray. Out like a light, and no surprise there. In the bedroom he’d chosen, he made up the bed. Thought about taking a shower, but made the mistake of stretching out first. Just for a minute.
Just for a minute lasted an hour until Bray bounced on him.
“Time to wake up!”
“What? Why?”
Wrapping his arms around Bray, he shifted, snuggled him in, made Bray giggle.
After the expected wrestling and rib-tickling, Ty hauled him up.
“I’m hungry!”
“Yeah, me, too.” And he didn’t have it in him to drive into town, find dinner as he’d half planned.
But he had peanut butter, jelly, bread, some lunch meat, milk, frozen pizza, and cans of SpaghettiOs, ravioli.
They’d absolutely not starve.
“Let’s go down and figure it out.”
Bray, all energy, bounced in his father’s arms. “Can we go see Bunk?”
“Let’s give that a day or two, pal. We’ve got to get organized.”
“I’m organized.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not. We’re going to take it easy tonight, but tomorrow we’re men at work.”
Had to make room for the piano—first priority. Figure out where to put what. He knew his granny had kept a garden, but he didn’t see himself planting anything. If they stayed, maybe. But there was a lawn to mow, and general yard work.
The third bedroom didn’t rank above a good-sized closet. The size and the proximity to Bray’s bedroom made it a bad choice for a studio.
Since he couldn’t see them using the dining room for dining, that seemed the logical choice.
He’d figure it out.
Right now, he wanted a beer. It might not be the best accompaniment for SpaghettiOs, but he wanted a damn beer.
He’d just opened the fridge when someone knocked on the front door.
“I get! I get!”
“Braydon, what’s the rule?”
Bray blew out a small wind of air. “Don’t open the door without Daddy.”
“Right.” Ty closed the fridge, took Bray’s hand to walk to the door.
The long-legged dark-haired beauty and her enormous dog stood on the porch.
Bray immediately fell on the dog’s neck again.
“I just wanted to drop something off. Traveling in, unpacking, I thought you might not have the time or energy to make dinner.”
She offered him a wicker basket that smelled like heaven.
“What is that smell? It’s amazing.”
“Oh, it’s just some skillet pork chops and potatoes.”
“Pork chops? You made us pork chops? Seriously? Sorry, come in.”
“No, no, thanks. I just wanted to drop it off. And there’s some eggs for tomorrow, in case you don’t have any. I have chickens.”
“You have chickens.” She looked like a blue-eyed country goddess, he thought, and she had chickens.
“Chickens poop eggs,” Bray said.
“They sort of do. But these are nice and clean. I hope y’all enjoy. You can drop the basket and dish back anytime. Just leave them on the porch if I’m not home. Come on, Bunk.”
For a minute, as she walked back to a spiffy red convertible, his addled brain couldn’t come up with her name. Then it did.
“Thea. Thank you. You saved two starving men from a sad dinner of canned pasta.”
She smiled as the dog leaped into the back seat. “Glad I could come to the rescue.”
After she drove back up the gravel lane, Ty closed the door.
“My man? We’re about to eat like kings.”
He took the basket into the kitchen, opened it.
Besides the amazing scent of a hot meal, she’d tucked in a candle that smelled like vanilla beans, and a little clutch of flowers in a tiny bottle.
“Like kings,” he said again.
* * *
Thea couldn’t help herself. The one person on the planet who’d understand her current state of disbelief wrapped in euphoria had been her best friend for fifteen years.
She texted Maddy.
What are you doing?
The response took just under a minute, but in Thea’s current state felt like an hour.
Giving thanks my shift at the clinic’s now over, and trying to decide whether to make myself a peanut butter and banana sandwich or open a can of ravioli.
Forget those slightly disgusting food choices and come here. I made pork chops. AND!!! I have big news.
What news?
Big must tell you in person news. Come over. I also have wine.
I’m in for the chops and the wine. Give me a hint on the news.
Nope. You get nothing until you get here.
I’d say that’s mean except I’m getting food and drink. Omw.
Considering Maddy had an apartment in town, Thea judged she had more than enough time to set the table, put on music—obviously Code Red—feed Bunk and the chickens.
She’d just poured the wine when Maddy came in the front door.
“There’s a car at Miss Leona’s. The great-grandson? That’s the big news?”
“Part of it.” Thea handed over a glass of wine.
Maddy wore her hair in locs these days. She’d changed out of her doctor-at-work clothes into calf-length sweatpants and a short-sleeved hoodie, both in bright, bold pink.
She had half a dozen studs running along both earlobes.
“I’m sitting. On my feet since eight this morning. Sitting out on your porch so I can enjoy my wine and you spill the news I don’t have to be psychic to see you can barely hold in.”
She ran a hand over Bunk as she strolled out. Then let out a huge sigh as she sat in one of Thea’s summer-sky-blue porch chairs.
“I’m guessing you met him, so what’s he like? Got a kid, right? How long are they staying? Putting the house up for sale? I’d buy it myself so we could Mr. Rogers it. Won’t you be my neighbor? But you’re just too far out from the clinic.”
“And Doctor Dreamboat. When are you going to give Arlo a break and marry him?”
Maddy smiled her smug smile. “I’m closing in on living together. Maybe, say, this fall. We’ll give that a year once I do, and see how it goes.” She slid a look toward Thea. “Or you could just tell me.”
“I’m not Madame Carlotta with her crystal ball. And I’m not looking into your future if I could. But”—Thea toasted with her wine, then drank—“I know a close-to-perfect match when I see one.”
“Why only ‘close to’?”
“I’m not sure there are many absolutely perfect ones.”
Her parents, she thought, but they’d been robbed of all the decades they might have had together.
“Okay, I’ve stalled you long enough. What’s with the next gen down the lane? Tall, dark, and handsome?”
“Tall, handsome, and the little boy’s not only a mirror image, but adorable. They drove down from Philadelphia with a lot of boxes in the car, so I think they’re planning on staying awhile.”
She sipped wine again. “I didn’t look, at least not deliberately, but I could feel how much he loves his son. Bunk scared him—not the boy but the dad.”
“Sweetest dog ever.” Maddy made kissy noises that had Bunk’s tail swishing. “But he’s big as a house, so I see that as first reaction.”
“He loved Miss Leona, too, the great-grandson. Just a lot of emotion I didn’t manage to block out. Love, guilt, regret.”
Eyes narrowed, Maddy pointed. “You, Thea Fox, are smitten! You who never get smitten got smitten in five minutes.”
“Oh, it’s been a lot longer than five minutes. He’s been in my life and heart for years.”
“I know everyone who’s been in your life and heart, and none of them are Miss Leona’s great-grandson.”
“Well, you missed one.” Tilting her head, Thea listened to the music rocking through the windows. “One look,” she sang, “one word, one touch, and lightning strikes.”
“Save the concert. Who the hell is he?”
Thea laughed. “You must be tired not to catch on. Miss Leona’s great-grandson is … drumroll. Tyler Brennan. Code Red, Maddy. My teenage crush Tyler Brennan.”
“Get out!” Reaching over, Maddy gave Thea’s arm a slap. “No possible way.”
“I couldn’t believe it myself, but there he was. God, God! He’s so good-looking even all rumpled from traveling. I almost squealed. Inside I did, many times, but I managed to maintain. Then there was a giggle, right in here.” She tapped her fingers at the base of her throat. “I held it back. Barely. I might’ve drooled,” she considered. “I really hope not, but I might’ve.”
“Holy hot shit. Miss Leona had a rock star in the family and never said?”
“I don’t think she thought of him that way. Plus, she didn’t talk much about her family. Little things, like going up for Christmas, or how he called her every week. But she didn’t share a lot in that area.”
Thea lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “I took them down half the skillet pork chops and potatoes and leather breeches.”
“Come on. Are you serious?”
“I’d have done that even if he hadn’t been Ty Brennan. He’d driven down here with a little boy, looked so tired, had all that unloading to do. But I’m not ashamed to admit I kept thinking how I was making dinner for Ty Brennan when I made dinner for Ty Brennan, and Braydon. His son’s Braydon.”
“It’s going to take me awhile to wrap my head around this. Are you going to make a move on him?”
“Oh, stop.” Laughing, Thea shook back her hair. “We’re neighbors, and that’s thrill enough, even though that’s probably temporary. And the really adorable little boy must have a mother somewhere.”
“My knowledge of him and the band isn’t as extensive as yours, but I know he kept his personal life private—must’ve gotten that from Miss Leona. And since the band broke up, I haven’t heard much about it.”
“He’s been mostly songwriting the last few years. But that’s all I know. I’ve been a little too busy for celebrity crushes.”
“We could find out. No, not that way,” she said at Thea’s look. “Google knows all, tells all. Or close enough.”
“I’m not going to google him. That’s just rude.”
“I have no problem being rude.”
Maddy pulled out her phone, and googled.
“Not a whole lot after the basic history, where he grew up, forming the band, hitting it big at nineteen. I’m not seeing any mention of the kid here, so that’s keeping the door locked. But, Jesus, Thea, I didn’t know he’d written all these. Hasn’t recorded or performed in the last couple, three years, but he’s written some hits. Like ‘Crazytown.’ I love that song. Oh, and ‘No Regrets.’”
“Put that away. Let’s go eat.”
“Since I’m starving, I’ll dig more later. This was definitely big, in-person news. One more thing,” Maddy said as she rose. “If you don’t put some moves on him, you’re going to regret it forever.”
“He’s a single father—most likely—trying to settle his great-grandmother’s affairs, and obviously a very private person.”
“So what? If he blocks the move, you accept. But if he doesn’t?” Maddy added a shoulder wiggle. “Teenage dream fulfilled.”
“Shut up and come eat your pork chops.”
Chapter Fifteen
She dreamed of him that night, dreamed of Ty sitting on her porch playing his guitar while the sunset turned the western sky into a palette of pinks and golds.
The summer breeze wafted the scents of lavender, rosemary, heliotrope. It set the witch bottles on their branches ringing, and the wind chimes sent out a quiet bong.
Of course he sang “Ever Yours,” the song that had always made her heart sigh, and when he sang, he smiled at her. Only her, those green eyes full of warmth.
A harmless dream, so she burrowed into it, feeling light, happy, maybe just a little foolish.
In the way of her dreams, she saw him so clearly. The way his hair fell, always carelessly sexy. The line of his jaw, the long fingers moving over frets and strings.
The shape of his mouth, then the feel of it when he leaned over to touch it lightly to hers.
Just a dream, and harmless, even though that light kiss stirred inside her so in sleep, she sighed.
The shadows in the woods lengthened as the sun dipped lower and lower behind the mountains.
And in those woods, something cried out as the predator took the prey.
The pink and gold of the sky turned to a bruised gray as storm clouds rolled in.
Ray Riggs stepped out of the woods.
He wore his prison blues, and though his face remained thin, it held a doughiness. Deep lines scored the sides of his mouth, fanned out from those pale blue eyes.
Still those eyes smiled, smiled with nothing to do with humor.
“Got yourself some guitar-playing pansy? Waiting for moonlight so he can fuck you? Want your romance before you roll over for him?”
“We have to go inside. Ty, we have to go inside and lock the doors.”
But Ty kept playing his guitar.
“He don’t see me, you stupid bitch. I’m in your head, just like always. Watch this.”
He had a gun in his hand. The gun, the same gun he’d used to murder her parents. She leaped up, screaming even as he fired.
But he didn’t fire at her. The guitar fell as blood bloomed on Ty’s shirt. He looked at her, no warmth left in those green eyes.
“It’s your fault,” he said. “You let him in. This is your fault.”
