“Why the switch?” she asked, lapping up the new factoid like it was water.
“Don’t you know? Bass players have bigger instruments.” Charlie’s slow grin curled her toes and he added, “We also do it deeper.”
“Good Lord.” Ella snorted. The man was incorrigible. “Shut up and play me something, four-string.”
Charlie laughed at the nickname and asked, “Any requests? Not to brag, but my musical repertoire is pretty vast.”
“I’d guess so, what with you guys throwing everything from shocking covers of nineties boy bands to old school R&B into your set lists.” He raised a surprised eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. “I’ve been Blue’s number one fan since before the world knew you existed. Obviously I’ve attended a few concerts over the years.” More like a dozen, but who was counting?
“Touché.” Charlie smiled, and soon the house filled with warm notes that didn’t seem to have a set pattern. Scraps of melodies from a dozen different songs, a run here, a bridge there, they blended one after another, making her smile as an intense look of concentration settled over his features. Lying back against her pillow, Ella let the music wash away the last dregs of her headache.
Charlie’s gaze drifted to the entertainment center, and he raked his teeth across his bottom lip. The notes shifted and arranged into a melody she would recognize anywhere, and her breath caught in a gasp.
“The Song Played On.” Her mama’s biggest hit from the mid-nineties.
As the familiar notes wrapped around her, Charlie kept his gaze on his fingers. “She was one of the greats.” His lips parted, then closed, and he said, “I remember my mom humming this song while washing dishes. I couldn’t have been more than ten, and when she turned and saw me standing there smiling, she told me, this is real music, son.” He grinned softly. “That’s the moment I fell in love with country music.”
Arabella’s eyes glazed with tears. He didn’t say anything more, just kept his stare trained on his fingers as he played, his low hum joining the notes a few moments later. Another piece of her heart quivered and fell. More than the essential oils, this moment, this song brought healing.
Mouthing the lyrics her mother wrote commemorating the day she fell in love with her future husband, Ella looked at her angel statue and confessed in a whisper, “I’m in deep, Mama.”
Chapter Thirteen
Holidays always made Charlie miss home. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and even Halloween were filled with their own special memories. Memories that, the older he got, made Charlie realize how important his family was to him. But out of any holiday on the calendar, the Fourth of July hit him the hardest.
Growing up, the Fourth was the highlight of his summer. Mom made her killer macaroni and cheese, Dad grilled every piece of meat he could get his hands on, and his sisters’ friends would descend upon the backyard in pieces of string they called bikinis. One time, he’d even considered selling tickets to his friends for pocket change. That was how in demand an invitation to the party was.
No doubt, the Tucker house was the place to be, then and now, and it stung knowing that his entire family was gathered together at that very moment, laughing and splashing around in his parent’s above-ground pool without him.
Sliding his phone from his pocket, Charlie smiled down at the picture Grace had sent him an hour ago of his nephew Bryson holding a hamburger as big as his head. God, he missed that kid.
“Looks like you could use another one.”
Charlie turned and accepted the cold Bud Light from Sherry with a nod of thanks and pocketed his phone. Brooding did him no good. He’d called them this morning, checked in on Abby, and wished his parents a happy day. For now, that was all he could do. Besides, it wasn’t as if he were alone. Magnolia Springs was also home, and here he had his brothers.
Tyler, Nate, Miles, and Deacon were family, too. Maybe not by blood, but in music, forged in the insanity of life on the road. Some of them had been together since the beginning, one as recent as last year, but these four men had his back as much as he had theirs.
It was crazy to think it’d been ten years since the open mic night where Charlie first met Tyler Blue. He’d just performed backup for one of his sister’s flaky boyfriends, some dude he hadn’t seen since, when Tyler had taken the stage. His rendition of “I Walk the Line” brought the damn house down, and it was then that Charlie knew he’d found his partner.
Four months later they met Nate. He’d been stuck behind some prima donna with more hair gel than skill, but it hadn’t stopped Nate from teaching a clinic behind the drum kit. After that performance, they’d had no qualms about poaching him, and for six months the trio played every gig they could find, sometimes two in the same day, calling themselves the Tumble Weeds. Ready to roll onto a stage near you…or, for the ladies, ready for a tumble in their beds.
Yeah. They’d been a bunch of knuckleheads. Obviously, when they signed with Belle Meade later that year, changing the band’s name and catchphrase had been Stone’s first demand.
Miles entered the fold on rhythm guitar shortly after signing, and Deacon, the newest member, joined last year when their former fiddle player slash keyboardist retired from the industry. But regardless of how long they had known each other, the four men surrounding him were family. By extension, so was Tyler’s wife, Sherry, their daughter Lizzie, and Deacon’s son, Max.
Charlie’s gaze shifted left. The band wasn’t the only ones he had here today.
Arabella was chatting with Sherry’s older sister Colby in the hall. When they’d arrived together, Charlie had simply introduced her to his friends as Ella, his tenant and coworker at Strange Wheel. Tyler had given her a curious look, like he recognized her but couldn’t quite place her, and Charlie conveniently withheld the small detail that Arabella was also Stone’s daughter…or that she’d been the one swimming naked with him in Tyler’s pool.
He didn’t know why he didn’t tell them—well, that wasn’t entirely true. He did know why he’d kept mum about the skinny-dipping. That night still wreaked havoc on his brain, along with other body parts decidedly south. It haunted him every other second of the day, so discussing it wasn’t an option, not if he wanted to maintain his sanity.
But her identity didn’t need to be a secret. The guys wouldn’t clam up if they knew, or act any differently. They wouldn’t heap those expectations she always talked about over her head or judge her. If anything, they’d scrutinize Charlie, especially if they caught sight of how badly he wanted her…and he was not in the mood for a lecture.
“So, not to be a downer,” Tyler said from across the table, “but I’ve got some bad news.”
Immediately, Charlie turned away from the hall. “Everything okay with the baby?” Lizzie, Tyler and Sherry’s ten-month-old little sweetheart, would be a big sister in less than a year’s time. A set of Irish twins. God bless them.
Sherry smiled and patted her softly rounded belly. “Other than a near constant craving for pizza, future baby is cooking along just fine.” She shared a glance with her husband. “It’s actually Lizzie and Max we’re worried about.”
Deacon set his bottle of water on the table. “What about Max?”
He didn’t say it aloud, but the implication was there. What did he do now? Who knew that a two-year-old could appear so innocent one minute and be so devilish the next?
“Nothing serious,” Tyler said, tugging his wife onto his knee. “But the nanny we hired for the tour backed out. Apparently, she’s pregnant, which, you know, is great for her, but sucks for us. Now we have until the end of August to find someone to replace her. I don’t want Sherry doing it all on her own. The second and third trimester can be rough.”
Sherry rolled her eyes. “History’s proven my husband’s a worrywart, and I don’t intend to spend the next four months in bubble wrap, but in this case, he has a point.” She roped her arms around his neck. “This pregnancy is wiping me out. Just taking care of Lizzie leaves me drained by mid-afternoon, a
nd that’s not on a hectic tour bus. Or watching Max, too.”
As if on cue, a childish cackle erupted in the other room, and Deacon hung his head. He pushed to his feet to go rescue the living room, but before he could take another step, Sherry’s older brother Cane entered the kitchen, holding the pint-sized tornado by his ankle.
“Caught this one trying to make a break for my pool,” Cane said with a grin, grabbing Max’s arm so he could spin the toddler right side up and deposit him on his feet. The boy giggled, sprouting a matching set of dimples, and the rest of the crew—everyone but Deacon, that is—tried their damnedest to hide their smiles.
Max was a hellion, but the kid was freaking cute.
Deacon grasped the two-year-old’s hands and looked him sternly in the eyes. “Max, I thought we agreed it was time for a nap. Daddy will come and get you when quiet time is over, but until then, you’re supposed to stay in the bedroom.”
Max shook his head. “No! Me no sweepies. Me bounce.”
In demonstration, the kid bent his knees and indeed began bouncing, hopping up and down like a miniature kangaroo, nodding his head from side to side the whole time he was at it. That daredevil grin never once left his face, and Charlie had to fake a cough to cover his laugh.
Sherry sighed, looking ten times more tired than she had before Max’s display. “As much as it pains me to admit I’m not Super Mom, we need to find a replacement nanny ASAP. I just don’t see how we’ll do it with wheels up in less than two months.”
Charlie was absolutely useless at this point. He had zero connections when it came to kids, other than his five older sisters and twelve nieces and nephews, but they couldn’t help here. He considered asking Arabella’s opinion, but that would lead to admitting to the guys who she was, and the inevitable questions of why he hadn’t said so earlier. Besides, he doubted a recent college graduate had a lot of experience hiring nannies.
Cane gave his youngest sister a sympathetic smile before leaving the room and, as Nate and Miles stared unhelpfully at the wall, a pretty strawberry blonde swept a wiggling Max into her arms, plopping him up onto her slim hip.
“I’ll do it.” The woman’s voice was so soft Charlie barely heard it, but the toddler sure did, giggling as he latched his chubby hands onto her strawberry curls. She rested her forehead against his, smiling into Max’s eyes, and Tyler craned an eyebrow.
“And you are?”
Sherry backhanded her husband’s chest. “Don’t be a jerk. She’s a guest, obviously, and she came here with Deacon.”
“I’m Hannah.” The woman snuck a quick glance at their fiddle player. “Deacon and I grew up together.”
To Charlie’s ears, it sounded like they more than just grew up together, and what with the way Deacon froze in his seat, and the nervous shifting of Hannah’s feet, he guessed there was a story there.
He’d never learned how a man in his mid-twenties who’d never been married had a toddler and no contact with the kid’s mother, but then Deacon was a private guy, and Charlie figured it wasn’t any of his business. Their newest member was a stand-up guy, a hard worker, and a genuine friend. But that didn’t mean Charlie wasn’t curious, as well as morbidly grateful for the chance to lose himself in someone else’s drama for a spell, so he propped his foot against the wall and settled in for a show.
“Do you have any experience working with children?” Sherry asked, tilting her head and watching in awe as young Max curled into the woman’s side. His eyelids, which had been wide with demonic excitement just a moment ago, now drooped heavily over his light blue eyes in response to the gentle sway of Hannah’s hold. “Or are you just some sort of Max whisperer?”
Hannah swept her hand over the child’s chocolate spikes and smiled. “I have a degree in early childhood education, and I spent the last year as an au pair in France.”
“Jackpot!” Nate slid his chair back to reach the beer cooler, then paused to hold up his palms when he noticed everyone glaring. He winced in apology and quickly glanced at Max, exhaling in relief when he discovered the kid still drooping. In a much lower voice he added, “I’m just saying, problem solved.”
Charlie swung his gaze back to Hannah. She cast another timid glance at Deacon, who was doing his best impression of a shell-shocked statue, and a kaleidoscope of emotions played across her pretty face, including love. Huh. The magical child-whisperer had the hots for their perpetually single fiddle player. Interesting.
Deacon, finally snapping out of his stupor, widened his eyes at his son snoozing in Hannah’s arms. “I thought you were headed back to France. You told me you could only stay a few days.”
Her peaches and cream complexion turned a bright pink, confirming Charlie’s hunch. “Eh, well, no. I’m back in the States for good. I just figured you had a lot going on, getting ready for the tour and all, and I needed to head home to Charlotte to see about getting my job back at the church. But, if y’all are in a pinch…” She shrugged a dainty shoulder and bit the corner of her lip. “I’m available.”
Tyler met each of their gazes, getting a subtle read on the room. Nate and Miles were in the same boat as Charlie—they didn’t have a dog in this race, so they were good with whatever the others wanted. In Charlie’s opinion, Hannah was more than qualified, and Max’s reaction sealed the deal. If she had what it took to tame the kid’s inner beast, she was A-OK with him. Max was cute, but the idea of being trapped on a tour bus with an out-of-control toddler wasn’t even remotely appealing.
As for Sherry, she was practically pulling a Max, bouncing on her toes and grinning excitedly, so she was definitely in. Which left the decision ultimately to Deacon, and one by one they turned for him to weigh in.
Deacon swallowed visibly before nodding. “I’d trust Hannah with my life.”
She met his gaze with a grateful smile, and a lifetime of memories seemed to pass between them. Some happy, others painful, and soon the room felt overcrowded with them all, like Charlie and the rest of the guys were intruding by being there. He shifted uncomfortably along the wall and stared at his sneakers.
“So, it’s agreed.” Tyler clapped his hands, shattering the awkward vibe, and Hannah ducked her head, blushing again. “Hannah, you’ll be Blue’s new nanny slash personal assistant, which is just a fancy way of saying you’ll help my lady out with whatever she needs. If you keep her off her feet and get her to take even one nap in the next few months, you’ll also be my personal hero.”
“I’ll try my best, Mr. Blue,” she replied, and Sherry elbowed her husband in the stomach.
“Ignore him, and please, for the love of everything holy, don’t pull that Mister mess with him. It goes straight to his enormous head.” She winked as Tyler helped her to her feet. “I’m not the delicate flower he thinks I am, but a nap does sound like heaven. Really, though, I’m just stoked to have an extra set of hands and more estrogen on the bus. Believe it or not, four grown men in a confined space is enough to drive a woman insane.”
“I can believe it.” Hannah laughed softly and pressed a kiss against Max’s slumbering head. Nodding to herself she said, “Sounds like an adventure to me. Count me in.”
“Excellent!” Sherry did a happy dance step and then spun to address the band. “See how easy that was? Maybe we can keep the luck rolling and finally look into replacing your old manager. What do you say?”
Grumbles arose from the table, and she blew a raspberry. “I know, I know. Ryan was great, yada yada, but you guys said it yourselves. Blue’s getting way too big to continue handling on your own. Even your agent agrees there’re too many cogs in the wheel, and with Bagel Bite on its way,”—she gave her belly a love tap—“I have to scale back the things I do, too. We need professional help, guys.”
“In more ways than one,” Tyler teased, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. She made a face at him, and he kissed her on the nose. “We’ll add it to the list, mama.”
There was no hiding the pure joy on his best friend’s face as Tyler
stared down at his wife and placed his palm over her belly. Normally, seeing him so blissed out made Charlie smile, too. He deserved to be happy, dammit. But today, the snapshot of domestic perfection sparked a hollow pang in Charlie’s chest.
He glanced back at the hallway, but Arabella was no longer there.
“No more band talk.” He pushed away from the wall, suddenly feeling restless. “I could’ve sworn this was a party.”
As the guys grunted their agreement, Charlie chugged the dregs of his beer. He shot Sherry a wink as he tossed the empty bottle in the bin, clapped Tyler on the shoulder, bumped fists with Miles, and nodded at Nate, leaving Deacon and Hannah to their strange mooning. Then he wandered into the living room.
He was just taking a stroll, he told himself. Shaking hands with the neighbors, checking in on Sherry’s siblings. He definitely was not hunting down a certain leggy brunette with smiles to spare and a heart of gold. Nope. Arabella had every right to mingle, to have fun and maybe even meet someone. He had no claim on her, and he never would.
Yep, that’s what he told himself. But his feet didn’t give a damn.
…
What she wouldn’t give to have her fearless bestie beside her.
Arabella withheld a sigh and gave yet another new neighbor a thin-lipped smile. It wasn’t that the partygoers weren’t friendly. They were incredibly welcoming both here in Cane and Angelle’s living room, and in Magnolia Springs as a whole. Everyone was caring and considerate of her newbie status, especially Cane’s wife, Angelle, and Sherry’s older sister, Colby. But meeting new people in a casual setting, not one in which Arabella could let her work do the talking, always made her a big old jumble of nerves.
Parties were where Lana shined. Her best friend had tried to swing a visit this week, but her big impressive internship in the prosecutor’s office wouldn’t allow the time away. Obviously, Ella had been disappointed with the news, as was Lana…although Arabella had a sneaking suspicion her friend’s grumbles had more to do with missing one-on-one time with Blue’s sexy drummer, Nate, than her socially floundering best friend. Le sigh.
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