When the Storm Breaks (Lost Stars)

by Emery Rose

  “I have to save all the best stuff for myself.”

  “Greedy.”

  “Why do you always assume love will be tragic?” I was contradicting myself. It always ended tragically.

  “You can’t have it all, Shiloh. Never make the mistake of believing you can. It will only end in heartbreak.”

  “Did Gia break your heart?” I asked, even though I knew she hadn’t.

  “I’d have to have a heart to break.”

  “You do have a heart. A big one.”

  “My soul has proven worthier than my heart. If forced to choose...” His eyes narrowed on my face. “Which would it be? Love or your music career?”

  “Why should I have to choose? Some people make it work. With the right person, it’s possible.” I didn’t know why I was insisting it was possible when I had no reason to believe it.

  “When you find that unicorn, I’ll dance the tango at your wedding. But until that tarnished prince who’s willing to fall on the sword for you comes along... protect your battered heart. Trust no one. The world is filled with bloodsuckers and wankers and you, my little chanteuse, are a wanker magnet. Case in point. Cunt Dracula, the blood-sucking Bouchon,” he said with a flourish of his hand. Ash fell from his cigarette to the parquet floor.

  You could always count on Bastian to give you the cynical, jaded view of life. Too bad he was right.

  If I was forced to choose, my career would always win. There was no man on earth worth giving up everything I’d worked so hard for. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about that. Falling in love wasn’t in the cards for me. My reason for going to Cypress Springs was something entirely different.

  All I had to do was ingratiate myself into the McCallister family’s lives. More specifically, Brody McCallister.

  Thanks to the private investigator I’d hired, I knew Brody was the key to getting me closer to what I wanted.

  I looked over at the doorway as Hayden strode into the room. All six foot four inches of sheer male perfection. He was a former rugby player and so ridiculously handsome it should be illegal. “How’s his Highness feeling today?” he asked wryly.

  “Apparently L.A. is sucking the soul out of him.”

  “Nothing new then.” Hayden plucked the cigarette out of Bastian’s mouth, crushed it in the ashtray and pocketed the pack of Marlboro Lights. He was always trying to get Bastian to give up cigarettes and eat healthier. A futile effort.

  “Off you go.” Bastian waved him away. “You wouldn’t want her to miss her flight, would you?”

  “I’ll be back in time for dinner.” He pointed at Bastian. “We’re sitting outside.”

  “Do you live for the sole purpose of torturing me?”

  “So it seems.”

  I smirked. They acted like a married couple. I wish they’d get together already. The only hitch was that Bastian, who had been with both men and women, never slept with anyone he truly cared about. Which was how I knew his marriage had been a sham.

  “I’ll see you at Glastonbury, yeah?” Bastian asked.

  “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  I grabbed my ’63 Gibson acoustic, already packed in the hard case and said my goodbyes to Bastian before Hayden and I walked out the front door of the 1920’s Hollywood Hills mansion into the eternal L.A. sunshine. I slid into the passenger seat of the silver Aston Martin, put on my sunglasses and pulled down the brim of my ball cap as Hayden navigated the curves in the road, “This Charming Man” by The Smiths blasting from the speakers.

  I was Texas-bound, and I had exactly six weeks to find closure. To make peace with something I’d done when I was eighteen.

  On the eve of my twenty-fifth birthday, Maw Maw visited me in a dream and told me I needed to go to Texas. Even though she was gone, she was still looking out for me. Still guiding me through this crazy thing called life. Dean was safely out of the way, serving sixty days in court-mandated rehab after his DUI and the stash of drugs they found in his glove compartment, so the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

  Chapter Two

  Brody

  “Not only did you talk me into renting the guesthouse to a total stranger, you promised I’d pick her up at the airport?” I’d been informed of this plan via text from my aunt Kate. Now, thanks to an accident blocking the exit, I’d been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the past hour.

  “She’s flying in from California. She doesn’t have a car.”

  “And how’s that my problem? Hasn’t she ever heard of Budget rental cars?”

  Kate sighed. “Be nice. Be that charming Brody McCallister I know you’re capable of and show her some good old-fashioned Southern hospitality.”

  “If she wants hospitality, she should have checked into a Comfort Inn. She’d better stay out of my way, that’s all I’ve got to say.”

  My aunt sighed again. I didn’t know why I was giving her shit. She didn’t deserve it. But I didn’t like the idea of a total stranger staying on my property. Unfortunately, I had a shitload of bills to pay and money was tight, so I had to do what I had to do.

  “The grant hasn’t come through yet?”

  “No.” My cousin Gideon, who worked for a venture capital firm in New York, had come up with a way for me to purchase more land and rescue more horses. Unfortunately, the US government was not so quick to fork over the cash. Even when the money hit my bank account, I’d only be breaking even. But as long as I could pay my bills and provide for my son, that was good enough for me.

  “If you weren’t so stubborn, you could let us give you the money. We’re your family, Brody,” she reminded me, her voice softer now. “When will you ever learn to accept our help?”

  “I’m not taking handouts from anyone. Not even family.” We’d been down this road before and she knew where I stood on the topic. There was no point discussing it again. Nothing she said would change my mind and Kate was smart enough to drop the subject.

  “Once she’s here, you won’t even have to deal with her. She’s all paid up for six weeks. And from what she said in her email, she’s looking for peace and quiet. You won’t even know she’s there.”

  “Meanwhile, I have to act like a goddamn chauffeur,” I grumbled. Another flaw in this plan was that the woman I was picking up—Vivienne Shaw—had my cell number but I didn’t have hers. I didn’t trust websites. Anyone could book a stay at my ranch with a credit card and some details that may or may not be the truth.

  “You know I would have picked her up—”

  “I sure as hell wasn’t about to let you pick up a stranger at the airport.” I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my arm and took a few deep breaths. I needed fresh air, not exhaust fumes. And I needed the traffic to start moving before I lost my shit. I was hemmed in with nowhere to go.

  “Well, there you go. And that’s one of the many reasons I love you. You have a protective streak a mile long. Now be nice. She’s your guest and she’s paid a lot of money that you are sorely in need of. When you get to the airport, wait in your truck until she messages you and everything will be just fine. Goodbye Brody,” Kate sing-songed.

  I tossed my phone in the console then leaned back in my seat, crossed my arms over my chest, and waited for the traffic to start moving again.

  It had been Kate’s idea to renovate the guesthouse so I could rent it out. She’d been trying to help me out and I should have shown my appreciation instead of bitching and moaning like a little pussy. I’d apologize. Find a way to make it up to her. Not her fault I was drowning in bills. Not her fault I kept rescuing horses or that I’d bought another thirty acres for my mustangs. The more land I acquired, the fewer neighbors I’d have to deal with. The man who had owned those thirty acres had always been a thorn in my side.

  Because of him, one of my rescue horses had ended up tangled in barbed wire. Call me ungracious but when his property went into foreclosure, I drank my finest bourbon and toasted his misfortune.

  Finally, the traffic started moving and I h
eaved a sigh of relief.

  As I drove past the scene of the accident—a fender bender—my cell rang with a number I didn’t recognize. Charming Brody, I reminded myself before I said hello in my most pleasant voice.

  “I was told there would be a car picking me up,” she said without preamble. “I’m at the baggage claim. Are you my driver?” Her voice sounded like she smoked two packs a day.

  Are you my driver? The fuck?

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m on my way.”

  “Are you saying you’re not at the airport yet?” she asked incredulously.

  “I’m about fifteen minutes out. Got caught in a traffic—"

  “Fifteen minutes? You mean I have to wait? Dammit. This is the last thing I need right now.”

  I clenched my jaw. It was her tone. The air of entitlement that pissed me off. “You think I don’t have better things to do with my time? I’m doing eighty. But if you keep it up, I’ll slow the fuck down.” So much for charming Brody. Kate put way too much faith in me. Always had.

  She sighed loudly. “Fine. Guess I’ll have to make the best of it. But call me as soon as you get here.”

  There she went again, making demands. I already knew Vivienne Shaw was going to be a pain in my ass. I’d be willing to bet she was the type who complained about every little fucking thing. The bed’s too soft. There’s too much nature. My allergies are acting up.

  How the hell was she going to get around without a car? Her problem, not mine. After I picked her up and dropped her off at the guesthouse, she was on her own.

  “Will do.” I cut the call and eased off the accelerator, taking my own sweet time. No need to risk a speeding ticket for this woman. She could wait.

  Thirty minutes later I pulled up in front of the arrivals area at the Austin airport and parked at the curb. Then I called my new best friend, Vivienne.

  “I’m here.”

  “Thank God. I’m on my way out. How will I find you?”

  “Look for the black stretch limo parked by the pillar marked D.”

  “A limo? You’re in a limo?” I chuckled under my breath. “I’m outside now and I don’t see... can you stop playing games,” she huffed. “Where are you?”

  “I’m in a black pickup.” I climbed out of my truck and rounded the hood so she could see me. The sooner she got in the truck, the sooner I’d get this over with. I scanned the passengers exiting the glass doors and the ones milling around out front but didn’t see anyone who sounded like the name or the voice on the phone.

  “Can you see me now?” I asked.

  “Dirty blond hair, jeans and a T-shirt?”

  “That’s me.”

  She cut the call and I watched a girl in a black ball cap with the gold New Orleans Saints logo, her head ducked as she walked toward me. This was Vivienne Shaw? She was wearing an oversized black hoodie and ripped black jeans, pulling a roller bag behind her, a guitar case strapped to her back.

  Black leather Army boots stopped in front of me. She glanced over her shoulder before she pulled the guitar off her back and set the hard case at my feet. “Can we get out of here now?”

  “In a hurry?”

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “I need to get out of here. Can we go now?”

  “All depends.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s your name?”

  She lifted her chin and gray eyes met mine. Stormy grays. Like the sky just before a thunderstorm. Ever feel like you’ve just got struck by lightning? A jolt of white heat shot through my body and I visibly shuddered.

  The fuck?

  I’d never had this kind of physical reaction to a girl before. I’d been attracted to plenty of women, had been with my fair share. But never once had I looked into someone’s eyes and felt like I was looking at someone who would have the power to wreck me.

  It wasn’t just a physical attraction either. This was something altogether different. Like a deja vu moment. As if we’d been here before. In a dream or another lifetime.

  Where have you been all my life? That was the question on the tip of my tongue as we stood on the sidewalk outside the airport and stared at each other in the fading light.

  My eyes flitted over her face, partially hidden by the ball cap pulled down low over her forehead. I caught a glint of silver from the thin hoop piercing her left nostril. Her lips were full, naturally pink, stormy eyes fringed by thick black lashes, her cheekbones high and sharp. No two ways around it, she was beautiful. But she had an edge to her.

  I took a step back and raked my hand through my hair. Averting my gaze, I sucked in a deep breath of muggy air. This couldn’t be good.

  “Vivienne Shaw,” she said, finally answering a question I’d forgotten I asked, in that same throaty voice from the phone. Sexy. Gravelly. It reached deep inside and rattled my bones. Not what you’d expect to hear coming out of this girl’s mouth. She was all of five foot three or four and underneath the baggy sweatshirt I suspected she was small and thin. She was young, early twenties if I had to guess, but her eyes looked older. Like they’d seen the world and it hadn’t always done right by her.

  “Hey, wait!” a guy shouted. “Can you give me a smile?” She looked over her shoulder as the flash from his camera went off.

  What the hell?

  “We need to go.” She jostled my arm, and that spurred me into action.

  I opened the passenger door of my truck and quickly ushered her inside like I really was a chauffeur. Or a gentleman. Not that anyone had ever accused me of that before.

  Once she was safely inside, I stowed her bag and guitar case in the back and slammed the door, turning to face the guy who was right in my face now. I blocked his view of the girl with my body and widened my stance, crossing my arms over my chest. Motherfucker would have to get through me first. Good luck with that.

  “Take another step closer and I’ll smash your camera on the sidewalk then break your fucking hand for good measure.”

  Dickwad held up his hands like he was innocent but the smirk on his face suggested otherwise. I glared at him. I had half a mind to smash his camera anyway just for that stupid smirk. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll back off. Right. The. Fuck. Now.”

  “What are you, her bodyguard? New boyfriend? What’s your name?”

  “I’m about to become your worst fucking nightmare if you don’t do as I say.” I hadn’t lifted a finger to touch him. Not looking for an assault charge tonight. But I stared him down until his confidence faltered. I could kick his ass from here to Sunday and the little weasel in his skinny jeans damn well knew it.

  “Jesus, man. calm down. I just want a photo."

  “You’re not getting jack shit.”

  “Get in the truck,” she hissed, tugging on the hem of my T-shirt through the open window. “Let’s go.”

  The guy was still there so I didn’t budge. I bared my teeth and growled like a wild animal until he finally scurried away. I waited until he was gone before I left her side and climbed into the truck then hit the gas and pulled away from the curb.

  “Did you know that guy?” I asked when we got onto the 290, headed west.

  “No.”

  “Why was he trying to take your photo?” I side-eyed her. “Was he hassling you?”

  She shook her head. “It’s fine. No big deal. But if you’d smashed his camera, it would have turned into a big deal.”

  “Did you want him taking your photo?”

  “No.”

  “Well, there you go. What else was I supposed to do?”

  “You were supposed to get in the truck and get us out of there.”

  “Duly noted. Next time I see a pervert taking photos of a girl he doesn’t know, a girl who clearly doesn’t want her photo taken, I’ll just walk away and leave her to deal with it on her own.”

  “You wouldn’t do that though, would you?”

  “If it’s someone other than you, hell no. But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

  She laughed. “Good to know.
Look, I’m sorry I gave you a hard time. I’m not usually such a diva.” She sighed. “I was tired and irritable.”

  Her apology sounded sincere. “Sorry I was late. There was an accident.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” She sounded as if she really cared.

  “No.”

  She exhaled. “That’s good. I never caught your name.”

  “Brody.”

  “Brody? You’re Brody?”

  “Were you expecting someone different?”

  “I ... didn’t know what to expect.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks for picking me up.”

  “No problem.” I nearly laughed at myself. What a dumb shit. No problem. Funny how my tune had changed. But I had a bad feeling this girl would be a problem and more trouble was the last thing I needed. “What do you plan to do in Cypress Springs for six weeks?”

  “I heard it’s a good spot for drug dealers and fugitives to lay low,” she deadpanned.

  Smart ass. A smart ass who had no intention of telling me what had brought her to Texas. Her accent was Southern, but it wasn’t Texan. Judging by the hat, I’d say she was a Louisiana girl. “Did you stash your drugs in the case?”

  “Nah. That’s where I stashed my semi-automatic. A girl’s gotta protect herself.” She shot me a finger gun and blew the smoke off it. Cute. Not that you’d call her cute. Lethal, more like it.

  “I forgot how hot it gets down South.” It was the beginning of May, not even summer yet, but we were having a heatwave. She eyed the A/C but didn’t ask me to turn it on. I always drove with the windows down. Summer. Winter. Spring. Didn’t matter. I hated being cooped up in an enclosed space. She didn’t ask me to roll up the windows and maybe I should have offered but I didn’t. Kate had tried to instill good manners in me since the age of ten but they’d never fully sunk in.

  I side-eyed her as she unzipped the hoodie and slid her arms out of the sleeves. A tattoo wrapped around her left bicep and disappeared under the strap of her black tank top. Her black hair was braided into a thick coil that hung over one shoulder and reached the top of her breast. Round, full tits. More than a handful. Bigger than you’d expect on her small frame.