by Terri Osburn
Accepting the greeting, Ash nodded. “Nice to meet you both.”
Ingrid escorted him into the foyer and closed the door as Angelica continued to give him the stink-eye.
“Are you Ms. Jesse’s boyfriend?” the little one asked.
“No, ma’am. I’m her producer.”
“Good,” she replied, the crease between her brows softening. “Ms. Dana says Ms. Jesse’s boyfriend is an asshole. Mama says that means he isn’t a nice man.”
Ash had met Ryan Dimitri on two occasions and agreed with Dana’s assessment. When he’d heard the news that Jesse was dating the arrogant artist, he’d nearly broken his keep-his-distance rule just to shake some sense into her.
Ingrid slid her hands into her pockets as pale brows arched. “Angelica is in the repeats-everything stage.” To the child she said, “Your mama also told you not to use that grown-up word, didn’t she?”
“Yes, ma’am. Can you not tell her I said that?”
“I’ll let you slide this time.” Patting the wild curls, Ingrid added, “Run and tell the others our last guest has arrived.”
The youngster took off into the house, sliding across the hardwood floor and darting out of sight.
“She’s quite a character,” Ash said. He volunteered with a mentor program for young kids and recognized the spunk and intelligence that would someday serve the little girl well. “I’m sorry if I kept you all waiting.” Jesse had said six thirty, and he’d arrived right on time.
“No worries. We’ve just been sitting around talking about you.”
He expected her to laugh and say she was joking, but her expression never changed. Unsure how to reply, Ash held his tongue and followed her into the house. High ceilings made the open space feel even larger, and the island to his right more than earned the name. An enormous slab of granite glimmered beneath a modern light fixture that would look even better over a pool table.
Five sets of eyes turned Ash’s way, and he felt as if he’d invaded a private meeting. Jesse broke off from the group to greet him, though she looked confused about how to do so. Once upon a time she’d have run full-tilt and leaped into his arms, and then they’d sneak off for a more intimate greeting.
Shoving the image out of his mind, Ash held up the bottle of wine. “I didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”
Jesse took the bottle and passed it off to Ingrid. “You didn’t have to do that, but no wine goes to waste in this house.”
“Amen to that,” muttered Ingrid.
An awkward silence took over until Ash leaned down to drop a kiss on Jesse’s cheek. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Thanks for coming,” she replied, not meeting his gaze. “Let me introduce you to the group.” He followed her to the island where the rest of the gathering hovered in silence. “Everyone, this is Ash Shepherd, the man I plan to blame if this album flops.” The joke broke the ice, and everyone seemed to relax. “You’ve met Ingrid and the terror next door, Angelica. Then we have bass player extraordinaire, Dana Mills, whipping up a batch of tasty fajitas at the stove.” The cooking musician waved a wooden spoon. “Silas, whom you met this morning. And Reggie Summers, the best drummer in town, with his wife Phoenix.”
“Reggie and I know each other,” he said and moved in for a shake and a pat on the back. “Been a while, man.”
“Yes, it has.” The drummer pointed to Jesse. “This is my girl, now. You’ve got to help her make this album unstoppable. We’re counting on you.”
No pressure there. “I’ll do my best.” Ash turned to the others. “It’s nice to meet you all.”
When she’d said friends were gathering to celebrate, Ash had imagined a larger crowd. The music community was a tight-knit group, and Jesse had been in the mix long enough to build a significant crew. Even one of Ash’s spontaneous cookouts brought out twice as many people, and something told him the lack of attendees was due to the fallout from the Honkytonk Daisies breakup.
Duos were like marriages, and when they didn’t work out, friends were forced to choose sides. Lucky for Ash, his and Ronnie’s divorce had been so amicable that their core group of friends had remained intact. Clearly, that hadn’t been the case for Jesse.
“I have a good feeling about you.” Silas smacked Ash on the back. “You’re the one to take care of my girl.”
A task Ash had undertaken long ago. “I’m looking forward to working with her,” he said, and he meant it. Just being in the same room again made the ever-present hole in his chest a little less cavernous.
“Dinner is served!” called Dana from her side of the kitchen, and the attendees hopped into action. As Silas waddled off, Jesse stared up at Ash with a serious expression.
“I guess this is going to feel awkward for a while.”
She always had been honest to a fault. “A little. Nothing we can’t get past, though.”
Jesse smiled, but the sentiment didn’t reach her eyes. “I hope you came with an empty stomach because Dana makes the most amazing fajitas.”
He gestured for her to lead the way. “If it tastes as good as it smells, I believe it.”
Stepping into line behind the others, they waited to fill their plates from the array of ingredients spread across the counter, and Ash caught the scent of vanilla and orange blossoms. The scent brought back memories of warm nights in the back of his Jeep and cold mornings behind the school that had resulted in both of them being late for class.
Out of self-preservation, he stepped back, blinking the flashbacks away.
“You good there, buddy?” Reggie asked, reaching past him for extra napkins.
Ash tried to answer but had to clear his throat to find his voice. “Sure. Yeah. I’m fine. The peppers are a little strong, that’s all.”
Reggie chuckled. “You think they smell strong? Wait until you taste them.”
The drummer walked off with his bounty, and Ash reached for an empty plate, reminding himself that Jesse wasn’t his to sneak off with anymore. That pleasure belonged to another lucky bastard who didn’t deserve her in the least.
Everyone loved Ash.
Due to him ignoring her for the last ten years—for reasons Jesse didn’t like but now understood—she’d altered her image of him in her mind to one of a pompous ass who’d found success, and then couldn’t be bothered with the little people he’d left behind. In one casual meal with her friends, he’d replaced that tarnished image with the kind, generous boy she remembered.
“Dana, that was amazing,” Ash said, leaning back from his empty plate and wiping his mouth.
“I’m glad you liked it,” she said, collecting Ingrid’s and her own plates as she rose to her feet. “Did anyone save room for dessert?”
Groans echoed around the table as Angelica yelled, “I did!”
Ash flashed a full-on smile at the little girl, and Jesse was transported back in time to a Sunday afternoon in the Rheingold house. Tommy occupied the chair to Jesse’s left while Ash sat to her right. The boys were picking at one another like an old married couple, and Jesse was caught in the crosshairs, as usual.
She hadn’t thought about those days in a long time, but reuniting with Ash brought them roaring back. The good times. The laughter. The heartache. The loss.
“Time to take the party outside,” Ingrid said, snapping Jesse back to the present. “Reggie, you’re in charge of the fire pit.”
The past summer in middle Tennessee had been brutal and long, making the cooler October nights a welcome reprieve. One by one, attendees carried their dishes into the kitchen, and then filed through the sliding glass doors out to Jesse’s favorite part of the house.
The sprawling patio, the fairy lights draped around the white pergola and the winding concrete walk that led to a fire pit surrounded by five Adirondack chairs combined to form the perfect outdoor retreat. Musicians were supposed to be most content on stage, but this suburban oasis was Jesse’s happy place.
“I call the swing!” Angelica shouted, dessert forgotten as
she rushed for the hammock chair hanging from a hook stand at the edge of the patio. Standing before it, she clutched the seat. “Can someone help me get in?”
Ash did the honors, sweeping the little girl off her feet and plopping her into the swing. Much giggling ensued as dark eyes looked up adoringly. Watching the two interact, Jesse thought about what a great dad Ash would be. She knew firsthand how good he was with kids. They’d volunteered at vacation Bible school as teens, and he’d been endlessly patient with all of the little ones.
When his career took off and she started hearing his name more and more, Jesse did a little digging and learned that Ash had gotten married. For several seconds after reading the news, she’d sat numb, her heart breaking all over again. But then she read that the marriage hadn’t lasted a full year. Jesse wasn’t proud of her reaction to that little tidbit, which landed somewhere between ha! and serves you right. To be fair, back then he was still the rotten jerk who’d abandoned her without so much as a have a nice life, so she gave herself a pass.
Watching him now, Jesse couldn’t help but admire the man Ash grew up to be. In their youth, he’d been tall and lanky with a boyish face and pretty hazel eyes. Ash was still tall, of course, but the once-thin frame had filled out nicely over the years. The once-spindly legs were now firm and muscled beneath the dark denim that accentuated the rather delectable bottom he was currently pointing her way.
The man was freaking gorgeous.
“You look deep in thought over here,” he said, lowering into the chair beside her. Jesse had chosen one on the patio instead of near the fire pit, as the smoke bothered her. “What’s going on in that dangerous little mind of yours?”
Jesse feigned innocence, not about to admit she’d been admiring his ass. “Me? Dangerous?”
“Yeah, you. The girl who put a whole jalapeno in a brownie, and then handed it to me without batting an eye.”
She would remember Ash sticking his mouth under the kitchen faucet for the rest of her days. “That was payback for you filling the sugar bowl with salt and letting me put it on my cereal.” Jesse would remember that awful taste for just as long.
“There was no proof that was me.” Shifty eyes said otherwise. “So what had you looking so serious?”
Searching for a less-embarrassing answer than the truth, she said, “You look different.”
A dark brow arched. “Different than what?”
“Than back when we . . .” Finishing that sentence would only make things worse so Jesse rephrased. “Than the last time I saw you.”
Hazel eyes narrowed, and a corner of his mouth tilted up. “Is it a good different?”
The sexy grin dazed her enough to hinder her ability to lie. “Very good.” Hearing the breathy tone in her voice, she looked away, certain that her cheeks were quickly becoming the shade of her hair.
Voice low, he said, “You look good, too, Jesse.”
The words knocked the wind out of her, and she leaned forward in her chair, eyes locked on the concrete between her feet. “Thanks.”
Emotions tangled into a knot she didn’t know how to unravel. Grasping for a lifeline, she reminded herself that there was a man in her life. A man who loved her. A man who was much too far away in that moment.
Five
After agreeing that each had turned out well, Jesse grew distant, turning noticeably colder than she’d been moments before. Eager to bring them back to neutral, Ash ventured into safer territory.
“Not a very big crowd tonight. I guess some people couldn’t make it on such short notice?”
Jesse leaned back and focused on the fire across the yard. “Other than Ryan, who’s on tour right now, everyone who matters is here.” Jesse stared down at her lap. “I’m sure when Taylor throws a party, she still packs them in, but that means she got stuck with the leeches. I’ll take my crew over hers any day.”
So his assumption had been correct. Jesse put up a good front, but she was hurting and that pissed him off. “What happened with Taylor? I get the feeling you didn’t see it coming.”
She shook her head. “Nope. I thought we were in it for the long haul—climbing to the top together, and then sailing into the Hall of Fame in two or three decades—but Taylor had other plans.” Tapping the side of her beer bottle, Jesse shook her head. “She had the nerve to tell me over the phone. ‘I’m calling it quits on the act and going on without you’ is something you should tell a person in person.”
“Yes, it is,” Ash agreed.
“Did you know that I’m the first person she met when she moved to town?” Jesse didn’t wait for an answer. “I introduced her around. I took her to songwriting sessions and pushed her on stage for her first open mic night. If it weren’t for me, she’d still be singing for tips on Broadway.”
The anger was more than justified, but they needed to channel all that emotion into something more productive than a rant.
“Write it down,” he said, shifting through melodies in his head. “Channel your inner Loretta and put that into a song.”
Blue eyes blinked his way. “Bitching to you is one thing. Telling the whole world that I’m still pissed is another. I’d rather people think that I’m over it.”
Since when did Jesse Rheingold pull her punches? “Songs connect with fans when they’re authentic. You don’t need to call her names or even aim the song directly at her. Write it like you’re talking to a guy who did you wrong. Tell him exactly where he can stick it, and we’ll have your first number one hit.”
Jesse’s jaw worked as she contemplated the idea. “I don’t know,” she said, clearly conflicted. “I want this album to be distinctly me, but I want it to sell, too. Whatever we put together needs to be radio and fan-friendly. Coming out as the bitter dumpee isn’t the first impression I want to give.”
Ash was happy to hear she’d put some thought into the record, but this sounded dangerously close to overthinking.
“Let’s break it down,” he said. “The only thing this album has to do is reflect the best music you can make right now. That’s all. Record songs that speak to you, and the rest will take care of itself.”
For a moment she only stared at him, and then uttered exactly what she thought of his advice. “That’s bull.”
Not an encouraging response. If they were going to make this work, he’d have to cure Jesse of a few delusions.
“You think you can crank out a record following some radio formula that has nothing to do with who you are?”
“I think I need to craft an album that country music fans want to listen to because if I don’t, I might as well pack my bags and head back to Georgia right now.”
Ash dug deep for patience. “So authentic doesn’t translate to the fans, is that it?”
“Authentic me, maybe not.”
Now she wasn’t making any sense. “What’s wrong with authentic you?”
Jesse lowered her voice and lifted the bottle halfway to her lips. “If I knew that, there’d be more people here, now wouldn’t there?”
Well, shit. The break with Taylor had done the impossible—put a ding in Jesse’s once-undingable confidence. This was the girl who’d belted out a Johnny Cash song in a fifth-grade talent show despite being told the song wasn’t age-appropriate. And she’d blown the room away. She was also the woman who’d written the majority of songs on the Honkytonk Daisies only studio album, which had climbed into the top twenty on several charts.
Desperation and doubts were a lethal combination in this town, and more than one hopeful had learned that lesson the hard way. If Jesse didn’t get her confidence back, she’d suffer the same fate. And take Ash down with her.
How could she let her cover slip like that? Especially with Ash.
So Jesse sucked at making friends. So what. She’d long ago accepted the fact that her core circle would be small but tight. Even as a kid, she’d struggled to connect with her peers. Especially the other girls. She could toss a football with the guys. Or shoot some hoops, holding her ow
n despite her size. But fitting in with the girls had never come naturally.
That didn’t mean there was anything wrong with her.
When the Daisies took off, everyone wanted to be her friend. The parties were crowded, the texts were flying, and Jesse had finally found her tribe. Until Taylor defected and took the tribe with her.
Annoyed with her wayward thoughts, Jesse felt a sudden urge to talk to the one person who liked her for exactly who she was. And right now, she needed to hear his voice.
“Excuse me,” she said to Ash, exiting her chair and crossing to the wooden swing in the back corner of the yard. By the time her butt hit the seat, she’d dialed Ryan’s number. On the fifth ring, someone answered, but the voice on the other end wasn’t the one she expected.
“Hello?” a woman squeaked, lips smacking as if she was chewing gum.
“Who is this?” Jesse asked.
“Who are you?” the woman replied.
Laughter erupted in the background, and Jesse recognized the booming voice of Paul Rigley, the drummer of Flesh and Blood.
“Where’s Ryan?” Jesse snapped.
“Ryan is… busy. Who is this again?”
“This is Ryan’s girlfriend. Jesse Gold.”
“Jesse who?”
Before she could answer, the voice on the phone changed.
“Hey, Jess,” Paul said. “Sorry about that. We’re, uh, having the bus cleaned, and Britney picked up the phone by mistake.” Right. Having the bus cleaned an hour before showtime. Totally believable. “Ryan is grabbing a quick shower,” Paul continued, “but I’ll have him call you when he gets out.”
A tiny voice in Jesse’s brain whispered, he’s lying, but she ignored it, as she had many times before.
“Sounds like a big cleaning crew,” she said as female laughter nearly drowned out the drummer’s voice.
Paul shushed the gathering. “Davie is making ’em laugh. You know how he loves to entertain.”
Yes, Jesse knew how the guitarist liked to entertain. When she’d first moved in with Ryan, Davie Juniper had also lived in the house. In the one month the band had been off the road, Jesse had encountered more than a dozen women in various states of undress while fetching her morning coffee. Disgustingly, she never saw the same woman twice.
