by Sandy James
Unless she screwed it up by keeping important secrets…
That realization prompted another—Brad wanted honesty, which she’d promised, yet she wasn’t being truthful with him. Searching for a house without telling him was every bit as bad as his making grand plans for her singing career without consulting her.
“I’ll tell him,” Savannah said. “Next time we’re together.”
* * *
Brad came jogging over to the fence when he saw that Savannah and Caroline had arrived. When he’d asked Savannah if she wanted to play softball with the Words & Music team, she’d declined, claiming she had absolutely no athletic ability. Instead, she’d offered to bring Caroline so the two of them could cheer for Brad and his friends.
He grinned at Caroline, who was dressed in the Words & Music T-shirt he’d given her. “Hey, pumpkin. Come to watch me do my Greg Maddux imitation?”
The girl cocked her head. “Who’s that?”
“He’s an awesome baseball pitcher.”
“What’s a pitcher?”
Savannah put her hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “We don’t watch sports.”
“We watch dancin’ shows,” Caroline announced.
“Well then,” Brad said, “I’ll teach you about sports, and you can teach me to dance.” He shifted his gaze to Savannah, who was also in a Words & Music shirt. “Glad my girls are here to cheer for me.”
“Are we still going for ice cream after?” Caroline asked her mother.
“Sure are,” Savannah replied. When she looked at Brad, her smile faded. “I need to talk to you about something.”
That sounded too ominous for his peace of mind. He slid his hands in his back pockets. “Uh-oh.” A glance at where the players were taking the field. “Want me to skip the game?”
“No, it can wait. No biggie.”
While he wanted to find out exactly what was bothering her and to find out right now, his team was counting on him. “We’ll talk after the game?”
She nodded. “Go on. Go have fun.”
As if he could concentrate on the game now.
“Brad!” Russ called. “You coming or what?”
Since Russ treated each softball game as though it were every bit as important as his NFL forays, Brad nodded and went to await his turn at bat. His gaze kept shifting to where Savannah and Caroline were sitting in the bleachers.
Things had been going great lately, and he couldn’t think of a single thing she might need to tell him that would’ve made her frown so fiercely. Unless…
She’s pregnant.
Now he was just being stupid. She’d just had her period. His imagination was working overtime, and he startled when Ethan kicked his foot. “What?”
“You’re up next. Grab a bat.”
Before Brad even had a chance to search for his bat, Russ handed him the right one. “Where’s your head today?”
Brad stepped back and gave the bat a couple of swings without answering.
“You know how much I hate to lose to Black Mustang.”
Taking another swing to loosen up, Brad tried unsuccessfully to stop worrying about whatever it was that Savannah needed to tell him.
Russ folded his arms over his chest. “I thought you hated Robbie Campbell as much as Ethan and I do.”
Brad let the bat rest on his shoulder. “We’ll beat him.”
The crack of a bat soundly connecting with a ball made them both turn to watch head waitress Cheyanne send a ball sailing toward left field. Despite the outfielder diving to catch it, the ball landed on the grass, taking a funny bounce that allowed Cheyanne enough time to take second base.
“You’re up. Send her home,” Russ said, cuffing Brad on the shoulder.
As he stepped toward the box, he caught his name floating from the bleachers. A quick glance found Savannah and Caroline on their feet, cheering for him exactly as they’d promised.
Not being a man prone to sentimentality, he was taken by surprise with the way their support touched his heart. In that moment, he realized that he would move heaven and earth to keep the two of them safe—would do whatever he could to make them happy.
They were his family.
“Batter up,” the umpire barked.
Russ got Brad’s attention and gave the sign to bunt and try to advance the runner.
Just to be contrary, Brad let a big grin fill his face as he pointed at the fence as though he were Babe Ruth. Cheers—and a good number of jeers from the Black Mustang crowd—filled the air. A glance at Savannah and Caroline made his smile broaden. They were whispering to each other with grins on their faces, which meant they understood exactly what he was doing.
His girls knew him well.
After shooting Brad a scowl, the pitcher tossed one right at his head.
Brad dropped, sending dust flying up around him. All he did was smile in retaliation as he got back to his feet and gave the bat a couple more practice swings. Russ wasn’t the only one who wanted to knock Robbie and his Black Mustang team down a notch or two.
Back in the box, he pointed at the fence again. Then when a more reasonable pitch came, he laid down a smooth bunt that took them all by surprise, so much so that he made it to first base as Cheyanne scored their first run.
Robbie was first baseman, and his kicked a cloud of dust at Brad, who stood firmly on the base. “You’re an asshole, Maxwell.”
Not at all intimidated, Brad smacked some of the dirt off his pants. “An asshole who just faked the hell outta your pathetic team, Campbell.”
A glance back to the stand found his girls waving at him, so he waved back.
All was right with his world.
* * *
Brad handed the cup of strawberry ice cream to Caroline, then he passed the hot fudge sundae to Savannah. As he paid the server and grabbed his own sundae, the gals went to find a booth.
They slid down the benches on opposite sides. When he joined them, he gave Caroline a flip of his hand to get her to scoot over a few more inches so that he could sit next to her.
Instead of diving into his strawberry shortcake, he jumped into Savannah’s earlier and rather ominous declaration. “What did you need to tell me?”
Playing with her plastic spoon, she dragged the drippy fudge over the top of the mound of ice cream. “I’m going house hunting this afternoon.”
“What?” Seemed like that word popped out often when he was with her. She always kept him guessing, always surprised him.
Just one of the reasons he loved her so much, although he wasn’t happy with this particular announcement.
“I’m putting the town house up for sale,” she calmly proclaimed. “You know that I need to look for something bigger for Caroline and me.”
Was she trying to goad him? He’d asked her to share his house more times than he could remember, and he still wanted that, despite her casual dismissal. “I asked you to move in with me, and you’re talking about getting yourself a new house?”
She reached out to lay her hand over his. “It’s just too soon for us to move in with you.” Then she inclined her head toward Caroline. “We need time, baby. That’s all. Let us adjust to all the changes, then we can revisit the idea of sharing a home later.”
Baby. She’d never had a pet name for him before. For some weird reasons, hearing it felt like a victory—like a deepening of her affection.
Then why the planned home search? Savannah and Caroline would have everything they needed at his place. He’d even offered to sell it and buy something else for the three of them if Savannah was hesitant to share a home he’d lived in with Katie.
“There’s no way I can change your mind about this, is there?” Brad shook his head with a small sigh.
“I need my own place.”
Despite his hurt, he gave in. “You win. For now.”
“I get a pool!” Caroline announced, her lips covered with pink ice cream.
Savannah plucked a napkin from the dispenser and handed it to Caroline. “If
we can find one.”
With a smile, he said, “If you find the perfect place and it doesn’t have a pool, you can always come swim at my place, pumpkin.”
As they ate in silence, he tried to remind himself to be patient. Savannah had been through hell with Michael, and with time, she’d find that she could depend on him. In the meantime, he was turning over every rock, trying to learn more about Michael in hopes that some of what she’d lost—what Michael had stolen from her. So far, nothing had surfaced. But Brad was determined to keep looking.
A teenage girl with purple hair came hesitantly toward the booth, smiling nervously as she stared at Savannah. “Um…hi.”
“Hi,” Savannah said in return.
All the teen did was stare as she fiddled with her bejeweled phone.
“Is there something you wanted?” Brad asked.
Without taking her gaze from Savannah, the girl said, “Um…yeah. I mean, are you…um…her? Savannah Wolf?”
Eyes wide, Savanah nodded.
Brad couldn’t help but chuckle. “She sure is. Savannah Wolf. In person.”
Leaning closer, Caroline acted as though she were going to whisper in his ear, although the volume was loud enough that he almost winced. “Who’s that?”
He cupped his hand to her ear and said softly, “That’s one of your mom’s fans.”
“What’s a fan?”
“She likes the way your mom sings.”
“Oh…” Caroline cocked her head. “I like the way Mama sings.”
Brad kissed her cheek. “Well, then. You’re a fan, too.”
The smile on Caroline’s face made him smile in return.
“Wow,” the teen said, a bit breathless. “You’re really her.”
All he could think was how great it was that Savannah was having her first “fan” moment and he was privileged to witness it.
She seemed to handle it well, a blush spreading across her cheeks as she smiled at the teen.
“Can I…um…take a selfie with you?” the teen asked.
“Of course,” Savannah replied before posing with the fan, their heads close together as the girl captured the moment.
After they were again alone, Brad reached for Savannah’s hand. “You handled that very well.”
“How weird was that?” she asked, still appearing a bit bewildered at the attention.
“Not weird at all,” he replied. “You’re a great singer. You’re gonna have a lot more moments exactly like that.”
Caroline popped up to stand on the bench, waving at another little girl. “That’s Kailey! Hi, Kailey!”
The girl waved back as she and her mother took seats a small nearby table.
“Mama, can I go see Kailey? I wanna tell her you got a fan.”
Savannah locked eyes with Kailey’s mother, who nodded. “Just for a few minutes, okay?”
Picking up her ice cream, Caroline scooted closer to Brad, who got to his feet to let her out of the booth. “Thanks, Mama!” She ran off without a backward look.
Now that they had a moment of privacy, he sat back down and returned to their original topic. “Fan girl aside…I wanted you to know that I understand you wanting your own place.”
“You do?” She eyed him skeptically.
He nodded. “Would you like some help finding a place? Who knows, I might even look.”
“Why would you want to move? Your house is…phenomenal.”
“My house is a pain in the ass. It’s too much for just me.” A subtle hint, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted his girls home with him.
They’d spent so much time in the big house that, whenever he was alone, he saw them everywhere. In the kitchen, making lunch together. In the basement studio with Caroline smiling as her mother sang to her when she laid down practice tracks for new songs. In the family room, where Brad now kept a wooden toy box full of things he’d bought for Caroline to play with whenever she visited as well as the toys she’d left behind.
A marriage proposal was on the tip of his tongue. He wouldn’t let it slip out. Not now. Not yet. If she already felt that he was pressuring her to move in with him too quickly, then she’d surely think a proposal was entirely out of the question.
But he wanted to ask her to marry him almost as badly as he’d ever wanted anything. The more time he spent with Savannah—and with Caroline—the more he was convinced they belonged together.
Now he just needed to convince her. And Brad vowed that this was a battle he would win.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Savannah walked into rehearsal feeling as though she were floating in on a cloud. Thanks to her realtor, she’d found the perfect house for her and Caroline. Not only was it the perfect size, but it also had the character only an older home possessed. The owners had renovated the kitchen and baths, and the place had modern conveniences without losing any of its quaint charm. The cherry on top was that it was less than five miles from her parents’ house. Brad had even loved it right down to the wainscoting, and he’d given her some great advice when she’d written the offer.
Now she only had to wait and hope the sellers accepted.
She pulled her guitar from the case and strode to the stage. Only one of the musicians had arrived, but Leah and Maggie were already in their spots. It took Savannah a moment to realize they were both twittering like a couple of teenagers and frowning as they stared at the screen of a cell phone and whispered to each other.
After setting her guitar on a stand, she went to them, wondering what bad news had hit and wanting to see if she could improve their moods. Allied had chosen another song for her, and she wanted to debut it later that night. It was time for them to quit playing with their phones and get down to business.
“What’s up, ladies?” she asked.
Their expressions swiftly changed, morphing to…pity?
Not sure what to say, she held out her hand. “May I look at what’s got you both engrossed?”
Maggie gave her the phone and nibbled on her lower lip as Leah looked away.
Savannah’s first glance at the screen made her stomach lurch. “What the…”
There was a picture of her and Brad standing hand in hand as he gave her a rather tame kiss. She remembered the moment well. They’d been in front of their favorite restaurant, waiting for the valet to bring Brad’s car around. The headline read: “The Hitman’s New Songbird?”
Scrolling down the screen, she quickly read the article, wondering how someone could be so cruel. The write-up talked about her meteoric rise and how Brad had orchestrated it. There was speculation that she was the muse for his new songs as well as his latest fling, one at the end of a very long line. Just reading the names of the famous and near-famous women who’d been in and out of his life made tears blur her vision.
How many of those women had he said the same sweet things to? How many had he told that he loved them? How many had he made love to?
Jealousy was a sickening feeling, but Savannah couldn’t push it aside no matter how hard she tried. Instead, she burned with it even though she hated the pain that accompanied it.
Her hands trembled when she handed the phone back to Maggie. “Where did you find that?”
Leah was the one to reply. “It’s a big website called Nashville Watchdog. Everyone in Nashville visits it.”
“Not everyone.” Brad’s voice was filled with barely leashed anger. “A lot of people hate that shit.” He strode across the stage as the ladies scurried in the other direction, no doubt avoiding his anger. He set his hand on Savannah’s shoulder. “I was coming to tell you about it. Greg called me.”
“Why didn’t he just call me?”
“He figured I could break it to you before you saw the story,” he replied. Then he shot a nasty glare at her backup singers. “He wanted me to prepare you because he knew it would upset you.”
She let out an inelegant snort. “Too late.”
“Obviously,” he drawled. With a frown, he added, “There’s more…”<
br />
“More stories?”
He shook his head. “More Greg wanted me to tell you.”
When he didn’t elaborate, her temper ignited. “Out with it.”
“There are three different people begging to talk to you.”
Savannah bristled. “Reporters?”
Brad nodded. “One magazine, one local TV station, and someone from…get this…CMT.”
Since when did anyone at CMT even know she existed? “Did you do this?” she snapped.
“Did I do what?”
“Did you contact all of them to tell them to interview me?” The nerve of him!
He looked surprised. “Why in the hell would I do that?”
“For the same reason you put me on YouTube or made me get a manager or got me singing for Allied. Because you still think I’m going to be some…star.”
Folding his arms over his chest, he drew his lips into a stern line and scowled at her. Her face heated in response, but she didn’t glance away, meeting his eyes and holding them.
“I seem to remember,” he finally said, “that I made you a promise not to do anything else without your permission.”
“Yeah, well…” Savannah bit her tongue. They were both angry, and if she didn’t guard her words, she’d be saying things she couldn’t take back.
Brad’s expression softened. “Look, you’re upset. Stories like this come and go. I’ve learned to let stupid stuff from the press roll off my back.”
“Probably because you’ve had a lot of experience.” Damn, she hadn’t meant to say that, nor had she intended the double meaning. Her mouth seemed to be a few seconds ahead of her common sense.
His eyes narrowed, telling her she’d hit a nerve. “You’ll get thicker skin with time.”
The tense scene was interrupted by the ringing of her cell. The only reason she didn’t ignore it was the familiar ringtone—“Holding Out for a Hero.” Fishing the phone from her pocket, she answered. “Hey, Greg. Just got the ‘good’ news from Brad. Now what?”
“And good morning to you, too.”
The man had impeccable manners, and she’d violated one of his cardinal rules by not greeting him properly. “I’m sorry. Good morning. What can I do for you?”
