Rock Me: A Rockstar Romance

by Wood, Vivian

  “We should label the cupboards,” Walker said, shaking his head. “All I can ever remember is where things used to be, back when it was Mom’s domain.”

  Sawyer bowed his head, uninterested in opening that particular can of worms. As he was starting to find out, he and his brothers were fickle and touchy adults. No need to poke the bear tonight, after this afternoon’s near-arguments.

  “I was thinking about going into town later,” Colt said, changing the subject.

  “You mean, going to knock boots with a married chick?” Walker asked, folding his arms across his chest.

  Colt rolled his eyes. “You’re just worried I’m gonna get with Shelby River.”

  Walker’s mouth tightened. “That’s not true.”

  “Wait, what’s this about Shelby?” Sawyer asked. He pictured Remy’s younger sister, a cute lookalike blonde with a big personality.

  “He’s totally into her, can’t say a word around her, he’s tongue-tied so bad,” Colt crowed.

  “Is that right?” Sawyer asked, unable to fight a grin.

  “No, it’s not,” Walker said, placid. “Not to mention, none of the River girls will come within a mile of us if they can help it.”

  Colt’s smile fell, and he glanced at Sawyer. “That’s not really true…”

  “It’s funny you say that,” Sawyer said, giving both his brothers a hard look. “I went back last night to talk to Remy, and she wouldn’t even look at me. Except to say that she wasn’t mad about me leaving on deployment, that is. So that’s got me wondering. Is she lying, or is there something that I’m missing?”

  Colt and Walker were both suddenly busy sipping their beers, casting thoughtful glances anywhere but in Sawyer’s direction.

  “Seriously?” he asked. “Colt. What’s the deal?”

  “It’s nothing, man. She’s just moved on with her life, and… you know, I think maybe The Colonel got into it with her father at some point, and… that’s it.”

  Colt couldn’t meet Sawyer’s gaze, though nothing in his statement was at all improbable. The Colonel got into it with darn near everyone in his line of sight.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Walker said, clearing his throat.

  “Yeah,” Colt agreed. “Just move on, like she has. If you’re going to stay here, you’re gonna see her here and there. Don’t want some kind of crazy tension every time you’re within a hundred feet of each other, huh?”

  “He’s got the right idea,” Walker said with a nod.

  “You two remember that I really hate being lied to, right?” Sawyer asked.

  Colt heaved a sigh.

  “Listen, we got other things to talk about than the River girls,” he said. “I was hoping that you two had some time to think over what the scenario might be like if we keep the ranch. Would you live here, would you keep an outside job? All of that.”

  Walker nodded, like Colt had just said something particularly sage. Sawyer wasn’t fooled by their topic switching at all, but he let it slide.

  “Walker, what about you?” he asked.

  “Like I said, my job’s already remote. I’d keep my stake and my apartment, but I wouldn’t always be here. I’d probably travel a good bit, doing recruiting work.”

  Sawyer nodded. “I thought about that, too. My firm likes me, so I think if I asked to be based here, they’d make it happen. I’d have to travel too, I’m sure, but probably not that much.”

  They both looked at Colt, who shrugged.

  “I want to run the ranch. I don’t want to keep an outside job, unless we need it for funding.”

  Walker snorted. “Not likely. Sawyer has his share of the family trust, and the two of us are coming right up on 30.”

  “That’s true,” Sawyer said. “It’s not enough to keep the ranch running indefinitely, but it would get us off the ground.”

  “So… we could make it work, if we wanted,” Colt said slowly.

  Sawyer and Walker nodded.

  Colt opened his mouth to say more, but the crunch of tires on gravel distracted him.

  “What time is it? Micah’s early, maybe,” Colt grumbled, fishing his phone out of his pants pocket as he stood up.

  “What, he’s going out tomcatting with you?” Walker asked.

  “Wait, Micah River?” Sawyer asked.

  “Yeah,” Colt said, busying himself stacking plates. “Grab the empty beer bottles, will you? And the grill tongs.”

  Colt went inside, leaving Sawyer and Walker to follow.

  “Look, just leave everything and I’ll do it when I get home,” Colt said.

  Walker shook his head and started running the water in the sink. “You cooked, I’ll clean tonight.”

  “Cool, thanks,” Colt said. “Gotta run.”

  He was out the front door in a flash. Sawyer followed him, curious to see Micah. The farmer was leaning against his rusty pickup truck, his blond hair damp from a shower, his jeans and t-shirt still dusty somehow.

  Micah smiled at Colt. “Hey, man. Let’s go! I’m gonna take Janey home—”

  He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Sawyer, his expression turning into a scowl.

  “Micah,” Sawyer said, inclining his head.

  Colt ignored Sawyer, clattering down the stairs to greet Micah with a clasp of their hands. “Let’s head out, man.”

  “You planning on sticking around?” Micah asked, glaring at Sawyer.

  “Not sure,” Sawyer said. “My homecoming hasn’t been as welcoming as I expected.”

  Micah pushed off the truck to stand up straight, tensing like he was ready to fight. “Is that right?”

  Sawyer stared at him. He and Micah weren’t exactly close or anything, but they’d hung out a little in high school. Now he was seeing the same anger as Remy’s father had shown. The thing was, Micah didn’t seem to have a problem with Colt…

  “Hey, let’s just go,” Colt said, clapping Micah on the shoulder.

  Micah shrugged out of Colt’s touch, shaking his head. “Nah. I changed my mind. I should go home, see my sisters.”

  “Awww, no. You don’t have to do that,” Colt protested.

  Micah glanced between Sawyer and Colt. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Colt said, shaking his head. “He doesn’t want any trouble either, right Sawyer?”

  “Why the hell would there be trouble?” Sawyer asked, his fists clenching. “I don’t understand—”

  “Later, Sawyer!” Colt said, pushing Micah toward the driver’s side door.

  Micah climbed in the truck and started the engine while Colt got in. Rolling down his window, Micah stuck his head out and gave Sawyer one final glare.

  “Stay away from my sisters, Sawyer. Like I said, I don’t want trouble.”

  Sawyer frowned, but he had no answer to that. With every single word out of Micah’s mouth, the mystery of it all just grew by leaps and bounds.

  As Micah drove off, Sawyer headed back inside, his mind full of questions. Clearly Colt’s explanation about The Colonel causing a feud between the Romans and the Rivers was crap.

  Otherwise, how would Micah justify hanging out with Colt, but still hate Sawyer? Colt was charming, but not that charming.

  Back in the kitchen, Walker was loading the dishwasher. Before Sawyer could interrogate him, the landline phone rang. Sawyer shot Walker a look, then went over to the kitchen island to pick it up.

  “Hello?” he asked.

  “Sawyer,” his father barked.

  “Yeah, hey,” Sawyer said, unable to hide his complete lack of enthusiasm.

  “I’m calling because Marilee wants y’all to be at the church social on Sunday, rain or shine.”

  “Oh… okay,” Sawyer said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Marilee is having our wedding date announced, so all three of y’all better be there and be in suits. Don’t embarrass the Roman name, you hear?”

  Sawyer counted to three, trying not to snap at his father.

  “Fin
e,” he said.

  “Fine,” his father said, hanging up without further ado.

  Sawyer stared at the phone, then shook his head. A foul curse was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down. Hanging up, he turned around to talk to Walker.

  Unfortunately, there were certain downsides to being in a family where all three siblings were SpecOps. Walker was gone, the dishwasher whirring quietly in his wake.

  Blowing out a breath, Sawyer shook his head. If Colt and Walker had a handful of brain cells between them, they’d start answering Sawyer’s questions… before he went investigating.

  One way or another, he was going to get answers.

  Soon.

  9

  Remy was just putting the finishing touches on her outfit for the Sunday post-church social when Shelby came in.

  “Whoa! Hot mama,” Shelby said, wiggling her brows.

  Remy blushed as she glanced down at her pale yellow cotton sundress.

  “I’ve worn this to social before,” she said, feeling silly.

  “Yeah, but not with your hair in a fancy updo like that,” Shelby said, stepping into Remy’s bedroom to circle around her and admire. “Is that a braid? Wait, are you wearing blush and mascara?”

  “Well… yes,” Remy admitted. “I want to look nice, is that a crime?”

  “Nooooo,” Shelby said, shaking her head. “It’s just, I figure you’re getting all dressed up for a reason. Hmm? Like a certain hunky soldier who’s just come back to town?”

  “Shelby, don’t be ridiculous,” Remy said.

  “Who is being ridiculous?” Shelby asked. “I’m just saying, you are dressed up awfully fancy just to go to the church social.”

  Remy gave her sister a measured glance.

  “We should get going. Don’t want to be late for the social, Mama will have a fit.”

  Shelby gave Remy a knowing look, but Remy ignored her. Leaving her bedroom, she headed into the kitchen to pick up Shiloh. Settling her son on her hip, she walked into the living room. The rest of the family was outside in the driveway, or heading that way at least.

  Except for her father, who was in the living room, clearly waiting to talk to Remy. He eyed her outfit and makeup with a rueful expression.

  “That’s an awfully racy outfit you have on,” he said.

  “Hardly. It’s knee length and covers everything but my arms. Besides, I can look nice if if the mood suits me,” Remy said, feeling testy. If she were being truthful, Shelby and her father were right. She was dressing up just in case a certain someone was at the social.

  But only because she didn’t want Sawyer to see her looking downtrodden. Perhaps it was vain, a sin in its own right, but she only wanted her ex-boyfriend to see her at her best. And next to her gorgeous younger sister Shelby, it would be plenty easy for Remy to look dumpy and sleep deprived.

  “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about? Other than my choice of outfit, I mean.”

  “Yes, yes,” her father said, waving a hand. “Really quick, while your mother is loading all those pies into the truck. I was wondering if you got a chance to look at the budget, see if we can afford to replace the backhoe. It’s not working right, and it’s giving Micah a lot of trouble.”

  Remy sighed.

  “Daddy, we don’t have the money for that.” She paused. “We don’t have the money for anything.”

  “I just thought…” He started, then trailed off. He glanced up at Remy, his eyes shining with earnest sincerity. “We just need one good year, you know that?”

  “I know,” she said. She hated to be the bearer of bad news, but her father had put her in charge of trying to wrangle the poorly-kept financial records. As the oldest daughter, she wanted more than anything to be able to turn the whole situation around.

  She wanted to be able to tell her father they could buy a new backhoe, or do any of the other hundred small things that needed to be done around the farm. Patch the roof of their house, for one thing. No more rain dripping into buckets every afternoon during hurricane season.

  But that wasn’t reality. And if there was one thing that Remy was well-versed in, it was in dealing with the reality laid before her. After all, it wasn’t as if her life had run exactly according to plan so far.

  Shifting Shiloh onto her other hip, Remy blew out a breath.

  “I know that you keep waiting for the perfect year,” she told her father.

  “Well, we have to get lucky eventually, right?” Braxton asked, his smile humorless. “We just need good rain, and good sun, and a good controlled burn this year. This could be our year, Remy.”

  “It could also be our last year,” Remy said, making an apologetic face. “If we don’t straighten out the books, the farm can’t stay open for another year. We just can’t survive without turning a profit for so long.”

  Her father glanced away while he worked to hide his disappointment.

  “I understand,” he said. “Thank you for giving it a try.”

  “Hey,” Remy said, putting her hand on her father’s arm. “Don’t give up yet. We just have to get inventive, come up with a solution. I’m pretty sure someone in the family is always saying that Rivers don’t give up, right?”

  Her father gave her another humorless smile. “Right.”

  “Remy! Brax!” Her mother called from the front door. “Y’all don’t want to find out what happens if you make me late to the social!”

  Remy gave her father a knowing look and moved toward her mother’s voice, knowing that her mother’s tone might have been joking… but no one made Eulah River wait. It simply wasn’t done.

  “Remy,” her father called. She turned back toward him.

  “You know you can’t tell anyone else in the family about this, right? It would just kill your mother,” he asked.

  Remy stared at him for second and then nodded. “I know.”

  As she turned to leave again, her father gave a loud whistle, the same one he’d used to round up Remy and her siblings when they were kids. She turned back to him with a frown.

  “Are you planning on taking Shiloh to the church social today?” he asked.

  Her father settled into his favorite recliner, remote in his hand. Braxton River had never been much of a churchgoer, despite all of his wife’s pestering. It worked out for Remy now, seeing as how she didn’t like to take Shiloh to church.

  Or anywhere, actually. Not that she was ashamed of her son; it was more that she didn’t want him exposed to any potential unpleasantness.

  Basically, she didn’t want Arlo Roman coming within 1000 feet of Shiloh.

  “Right,” she said, shaking her head. She walked over and handed Shiloh off to her father. Shiloh went willingly, because Shiloh adored his grandfather. He always seemed to enjoy the quality alone time they spent each Sunday morning and afternoon.

  “Be back soon, honey,” Remy told Shiloh.

  Shiloh flapped his hands at her, unconcerned.

  With a last nod to her father, Remy headed out to get in the car. Micah and her mother were taking the truck together, with an army’s share of fresh fruit pies sitting between them.

  Remy got into the back seat of Shelby’s car, content to listen to Larkin and Shelby’s chatter as they drove into town. Her mind was elsewhere, mostly considering what her life would be like when Shiloh was older. In a couple of years, he wouldn’t be so content to stay home with grandpa every single week.

  She couldn’t hide him forever. Given the choice, though, she absolutely would. If she could keep Shiloh in homeschool and raise him amongst his family… if that was something she could do without killing his social skills and ruining him as a person…

  Then absolutely, she would. The people of Catahoula could be kind and forgiving, but some of them were small-minded and petty. Unfortunately, it was the latter that were often the most vocal.

  The circumstances of Shiloh’s birth were by no means his fault, and Remy would do anything she could to shield him from the consequenc
es of her actions.

  Or inactions, as it may be.

  Where would I be today if I’d been courageous enough to tell Sawyer about his son? she mused.

  She rolled her eyes at herself. Her mind went instantly to white dresses and wedding rings, which was ridiculous. It was insane, thinking that she might have married Sawyer, that he’d make all her problems vanish.

  She was like a wide-eyed little girl, caught up in daydreams and fairy tales. That simply wasn’t the way the world worked, period.

  Remy had been fighting with her mother about just this thing since Shiloh was 3 months old. Eulah River was a good Christian woman who had raised a good Christian family. In her mother’s mind, Remy leaving Shiloh home during church was tantamount to treason. Tolerant though Eulah might be, there was no such thing as an uncivilized and unbaptized child in her household.

  Purely for the sake of saving herself another argument with her mother, Remy had agreed to have Shiloh baptized – in the next town over. The compromise worked, so now Shiloh’s soul was safe, and Remy’s privacy was somewhat respected.

  Before Remy realized it, they were pulling up in front of one of the biggest houses on Catahoula’s main strip. A big white plantation house, with brand new construction. Flashy as all get-out, with a vast acreage of glorious green grass.

  When Remy climbed out of the car with her two sisters, her mother was waiting.

  “Grab some pies,” her mother said. “Head around the back of the house, Mrs. Faraday has got a beautiful gazebo set up back there. That’s where everybody will be.”

  Remy accepted three foil wrapped pies from Micah, then led her mother and her siblings around the side of the plantation house and into the backyard.

  The layout was even more beautiful than her mother had described, tables spread out all around the pristine white gazebo, lights strung in the trees. With the gazebo at the center, the yard sprawled out into little copses of trees, paved walking paths winding everywhere and cute little statues of cherubs spitting water adorning the paths.

  There were already about 50 people milling about the food tables, quite a few faces that Remy recognized – even people who hadn’t even been in church that morning. Church socials took place every Sunday afternoon, rain or shine. It was pretty common for the majority of the town to show up, religious or not… basically anybody who wasn’t currently in social disgrace was welcome.