by Brenda Novak
“I remember,” he said through gritted teeth. He didn’t want to talk about that, either. It was easier to bury the doubt and the suspicion and try to forget the past.
“You don’t care.”
Maybe he would if he believed it was true. But with Noelle—who could say? Whenever she needed money, she came up with an excuse he’d be hard-pressed to decline—medical treatment, that she’d be evicted, that she wouldn’t have electricity or food.
“Look, I paid for the procedure,” he said. “That’s all that matters. I hope you’re feeling better. Now I’ve got to go. I have a lot to do here—”
“Wait! What about my water heater?”
“What about it?” he asked in exasperation.
“You seriously won’t give me a small loan? Then will you let me stay in the farmhouse until I can get it fixed on my own?”
No way was she coming anywhere near his property. She would never live there. “Absolutely not. I’ve got the farmhouse cleaned up and ready to lease.”
“But it’s been ready to lease for two months, and it’s sat empty that whole time. Why not let me move in until I’m back on my feet? You’re not likely to get someone now.”
What was she talking about? “Why not?”
“The holidays. People are busy with shopping and wrapping and decorating.”
“Not everyone. Matter of fact, I have someone coming to see it tonight. He’s ninety percent sure he wants it. He just has to see it in person to confirm. Then he’ll sign.”
“Who is it?” she asked.
Kyle checked the information he’d jotted on his desk calendar. “Guy by the name of Meade.”
“Never heard of him...”
“He’s from Nashville. Only needs it for a few months, but he asked me to furnish it, so—”
“Furnish it with what?” she broke in. “It’s not like you have a furniture warehouse.”
“There are companies that rent furniture. I called a place in Sacramento, chose some items from their website, and they brought it all out. The place is move-in ready now. Looks great.”
“You went to that much trouble for someone who’s only staying for a few months? I thought you wanted a year’s lease. That’s what you told me when I asked about it.”
“He’s paying a premium—for the furniture, my time and trouble in acquiring it and the short term. Even if he decides he hates the house and I have to send the furniture back, he’s covering all of that. In any case, you didn’t lose out, because I wouldn’t let you move in, no matter what.” The past few months, she’d been trying her best to get back with him. The last thing he needed was to allow her to be that close—not to mention he’d never see a dime of rent.
“Even though I’d be willing to sign for a year?”
“Even if you’d be willing to sign for ten.”
“You can be so mean,” she said.
Mean? He thought he was being incredibly nice—considering that merely talking to her made him want to punch himself in the face. “We’ve talked about this before. I’ll take Meade’s deal, if I can get it, and try to find another tenant next summer, when school’s out.”
“That’s great for you, but what about me? Can’t I use it until he moves in?”
The childlike whine that entered her voice made his eye-twitch worse. Patience, he reminded himself. Breathe deeply and speak kindly. “He hasn’t said when that’ll be. But since he’s coming all the way from Tennessee to look at it, I’m guessing he could move in tonight.”
“In the middle of the storm that’s coming in?”
“Why not? He’ll just carry in his luggage. How hard can that be, whether there’s a storm or not?”
“So you’re going to leave me in the lurch—the woman who would’ve been the mother of your child if that child had survived?”
Before he could respond, Morgan knocked briskly and opened the door. “Don’t tell me you’re still on with her.”
He sent her a frown that told her to mind her own business, but she didn’t leave.
“I have a call from LA,” she said. “Some guy wants a special deal on a 10-megawatt order.”
Which was such a big order, no one at his company could provide the pricing but him. He changed the phone to his other ear. “Noelle, I’ve got to go.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this!”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“You have the contacts. You could get me a water heater and let me make payments, if you weren’t so stingy.”
“Kyle?” Morgan prompted, reminding him—as if he needed her to—of the far more important caller on the other line.
He almost told Noelle to go down to the hardware store and have the checker call him for his credit card information. He wanted to get rid of her, and they’d done that kind of remote purchase before, when someone threw a rock through her window (likely the girlfriend of someone she’d flirted with at Sexy Sadie’s). But the more he gave her, the more she’d keep coming back to him. He had to break the cycle...
Fortunately, he thought of a solution that should’ve been obvious to him from the start. “I’ve got a water heater here,” he said. “It’s the one I took out of Brandon’s neighbor’s house. If you’ll have someone pick it up and install it, I’ll give it to you.”
“You’re sure it works?”
Morgan propped her hands on her hips and scowled at him, refusing to leave until he took that business call.
“It did when my guys removed it. No reason that should’ve changed. She wanted solar mainly to be responsible to the environment.” He’d been planning to donate the water heater to a poor family who could use it. But Noelle fit the bill. She didn’t have much money, despite juggling two jobs. Working in retail part-time, and then as a barmaid nights and weekends, she didn’t make a whole lot. What she did earn, she spent on clothes and beauty aids.
“Okay. Thanks.” Noelle lowered her voice. “I’m happy to oblige if you’d like...something in return.”
“I don’t need anything,” he said.
“You sure about that?”
Where was she going with this? “Excuse me?”
“I remember the kinds of things you like...”
The suggestion in her voice made him uncomfortable. “I hope you’re not referring to—”
“It’s not like you’re getting laid anywhere else,” she interrupted. “A visit here and there could be our little secret, a temporary solution, so you don’t have to go without. I mean, what’s the big deal? It’s not like we haven’t slept together before.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that,” he said and hung up.
Morgan, who’d changed her position to stand with her arms folded, fingers drumming her biceps, raised her eyebrows. “What’s she after now?”
“Nothing.”
“You look thoroughly disgusted,” she said and laughed at him when he growled at her to get out and shut the door.
Kyle was wrapping up his conversation with the client from Los Angeles when Morgan came in again. This time she sat in the chair across from his desk while waiting for him to finish.
“Don’t tell me Noelle’s already here,” he said when he’d disconnected.
“No. I’m hoping to be gone by then. This is good news.”
He sat up taller. After having his ex-wife, of all people, make an issue of his dismal love life, he could use some good news. “What is it?”
“I received a call from that dude who wants to rent the farmhouse.”
“I hope he’s not canceling,” Kyle said. “Noelle keeps asking if she can move in. I’ll be relieved when it’s occupied and she can’t bug me about it anymore.”
“Can’t she just move out of town instead?” Morgan responded. “No o
ne would miss her.”
Yet another reason Kyle forced himself to be decent to her. Despite all the terrible things she’d done—especially to him—he felt sorry for her. She couldn’t seem to avoid screwing up her own life. “She’s trying to launch a modeling career. Maybe she’ll be discovered and relocate to New York or LA.”
“She’s delusional if she thinks anyone’s going to pay her to model! She—”
“What’s your news?”
She scowled in apparent frustration. She was all revved up, and he’d removed her target. “Fine,” she said, shifting gears. “Meade’s no longer coming, but—” she held up a hand so he wouldn’t react too soon “—he wasn’t looking at the house for himself, anyway.”
“Who’s it for?”
“A client he manages.” She grinned. “Are you ready for this?”
“You have my full attention,” he said drily. He liked his assistant, but she got on his nerves occasionally. After dealing with Noelle, he preferred to be left alone right now so he could get some work done. He didn’t want to stay late tonight. He didn’t live far, but he’d rather not get caught in the storm they were expecting. It was supposed to be the worst they’d had in twenty years.
“Lourdes Bennett,” she announced.
The way she’d said the name sounded like ta-da!
“Bennett? Is she related to our police chief?”
“No! There’s no connection. You don’t recognize the name Lourdes Bennett?”
“Should I?”
“She’s a country-western singer!”
“Am I supposed to be familiar with every country-western singer?”
“Not necessarily, but she has several hit songs—and she was born and raised less than an hour away.”
Now that she’d jogged his memory, Kyle realized he had heard of Lourdes. He just hadn’t expected the person who might be renting his farmhouse to be someone truly famous. “In Angel’s Camp, right? This is the Lourdes Bennett who sings ‘Stone Cold Lover’?”
“That’s the one.”
“Why would she have any interest in coming here?” he asked.
“I have no clue,” Morgan replied. “But you’re about to find out. She flew into Sacramento Airport this morning and rented a car. She’s on her way, should be here any minute.”
“Is she coming by herself?”
“Sounded like it.”
Kyle scratched his head. “That seems odd.”
“What seems odd?”
“The whole thing. If she’s from Angel’s Camp, why isn’t she going there? Why would she want to spend the holidays in Whiskey Creek?”
“You’ll have to ask her,” Morgan said. “Unless you want me to show the house. I’d be happy to take over for you.”
He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Sorry, you have a couple of hours before quitting time, which you’ll spend here. I’ll take care of meeting Ms. Bennett.”
She huffed. “Great. I’ll be the one to get tortured by your ex-wife.”
“Just point her to the back corner of the warehouse, where I put that used water heater.”
“I’d like to point her somewhere, but it isn’t to the back of the warehouse.”
He chuckled. “Be careful crossing her. She can be vengeful.”
“You’re too nice to her. She doesn’t deserve a guy like you, even as an ex.” She mimed zipping her lips. “But that’s it. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“Thank you.”
She straightened the cowl of her sweater. “I hope Lourdes Bennett wants the house. Wouldn’t it be exciting to have her in town—on your property?”
He wasn’t so sure. Thanks to Noelle, he’d had about all he could take of difficult women. “Unless she’s a diva. But if she is a diva, I can’t imagine why she’d rent my house. A diva would want something fancier—in Bel Air or the Bay Area.”
“Whiskey Creek may not be as famous as San Francisco or LA, but it’s beautiful here in the foothills. And she’ll love the house. After what you’ve done to the place, who wouldn’t?”
Built in the thirties, it had once been a farmhouse, which was why they still referred to it as the farmhouse. When he’d purchased the land so he could expand his plant, he’d decided to update the house that was there and turn it into another rental. He already had a couple of places he rented out, so it made sense. “The house is only about a thousand square feet.” He’d opened up the kitchen and living room areas and expanded the office, but there were only two bedrooms and two baths. That wouldn’t be conducive to hosting a large group, so if she planned to bring her whole entourage for a Christmas party or something, it wouldn’t work.
“One person can’t need any more space than that,” Morgan said.
“If it is just one person.” Kyle was tempted to search Google for Lourdes’s name. He sometimes listened to country-western music, enough to be familiar with her song “Stone Cold Lover” as well as one other that he couldn’t remember the title of. But he didn’t know anything about her background, family, age or marital status, and now he was curious. From the pictures he’d seen, she didn’t look much older than twenty-five or twenty-six, but who knew how current those photos were? She could’ve played the bars and honky-tonks for years before getting any serious attention.
He would’ve taken a few minutes to read up on her if he hadn’t been afraid Noelle would arrive before he could leave. That made him decide to use his smartphone instead of his computer, since he could do it off the premises.
Grabbing his coat, he told Morgan he’d see her in the morning and drove over to the rental.
2
This was what all the fame and fortune she’d earned so far boiled down to?
Lourdes Bennett frowned as she pulled up beside the truck that was parked at the address she’d been given and removed her sunglasses so she could get a better look at the place. The countryside she’d passed through felt familiar—little wonder, since she’d grown up in a similar town not far from Whiskey Creek. And the house, an old-fashioned, wooden A-frame, was charming. A swing hung on the front porch, further enhancing its homey appeal. But Whiskey Creek wasn’t where she’d be if all was well in her life. So far, her exile was self-imposed, but if she couldn’t get back on top of her career, there’d be no point in returning to Nashville for professional reasons.
A man appeared in the doorway. Had to be the landlord. He must’ve heard her drive up.
Quickly sliding her sunglasses back on—as a shield against his recognition of her more than anything else, since that could be awkward—Lourdes opened her door and stepped out. It was starting to get dark, but she could still see.
“You found it okay, huh?” the man said as he came toward her.
The wind had kicked up and tossed her hair, and she held it back. “Just followed my GPS.”
“I’m glad it didn’t lead you astray. GPS can be kind of squirrelly in some places. With all the hills in Gold Country, you can’t always get a signal.” When he drew close, he stuck out his hand. “Kyle Houseman.”
Fairly tall, maybe six-one, her landlord looked a great deal like Dierks Bentley, only with darker hair. She’d played several gigs with Dierks over the years, so she could easily compare them. Not only did they have similar facial features, they also were both fit, both in their midthirties, and they both had million-dollar smiles.
“I’m Lourdes.” She didn’t mention her last name. She preferred not to make a big splash. That was why she’d asked Derrick to handle the negotiations, and why she’d chosen Whiskey Creek instead of Angel’s Camp. Whiskey Creek was as close to home as she could get while keeping a low profile.
“I’m familiar with some of your songs,” Kyle said. “Congratulations on your success.”
Her first album had received quite a bit of r
adio play, which was more than most aspiring artists obtained. The success had been fun while it lasted, but after the decade it had taken to land a major label, it hadn’t lasted nearly long enough. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m not looking for that sort of attention—for any attention, really. I just need a quiet place to get away for a few months.” And to try to reclaim what she’d destroyed when she attempted to make it in an even bigger market and switched over to pop music. “You know, without anyone noticing.”
“No problem. Not on my end, anyway. But...” He studied her for several seconds. “You grew up in a small town.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know what they’re like, how people talk.”
“Of course. I don’t plan to be seen much. And this house seems to be off the beaten path. Surely no one would approach me in my home...er, your home.” She couldn’t say the same for Angel’s Camp. After her father died of bladder cancer, her mother had followed her to Nashville. She’d always wanted to be there, since she’d once had dreams of a music career of her own. So, shortly after Lourdes’s two younger sisters, Mindy and Lindy, identical twins, had graduated from high school, Renate bought a nice three-bedroom, two-bath condo not far from Lourdes’s own place. And once Mindy and Lindy had finished college, they’d settled in Tennessee, too. They were currently sharing an apartment. Although her family had never expected Lourdes to help them financially, everyone wanted to be part of the exciting things that were happening to her, to experience something new. Lourdes would’ve liked to go back to Angel’s Camp. She missed it. But her old friends—and her family’s friends—knew her well enough that they wouldn’t even attempt to respect her privacy.
“I can’t imagine they would,” he agreed.
She looked beyond him at the front porch. “Then I like the place so far.”
“It’s small,” he said, as if that would be a drawback for her.
“I don’t need a lot of room. I’ll just be writing some new songs.” Just. That was the understatement of the year. She had to come up with billboard gold...
