The Songbird Sisters

by Rachael Herron

  “You weren’t.”

  “But I was drunk, and I was young, and I was stupid –” She broke off with another strangled sob.

  Taft shook his head. “Look at me. I want you to listen to me. Okay?”

  Amber nodded.

  “You’re not to blame for what went wrong.” It was the best line of the song.

  “I should have –”

  “You did nothing wrong. What happened to you was not okay.”

  “I was really drunk, and I’d smoked some weed, too.” Amber’s hands shook.

  Taft repeated, “You did nothing wrong. Whoever hurt you is the one to blame. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. You get me?”

  Amber nodded. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.”

  “Darlin’, I’ll say it to you every time you hear the song from here on out, okay? I am singing to you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Singing right to you, just to remind you again and again that you did nothing wrong. Everything you did in your life got you to this place – right here – safely. You should be so proud of yourself. You didn’t deserve that. But you made it to today anyway. Good for you, darlin’.”

  Then Amber sobbed, and Taft reached forward to wrap her in his arms. Lana watched as he stroked her hair. He kept his flow of words going, so his soft You did nothing wrong was on a repeated loop, pouring over Amber as she cried into his work shirt.

  Minutes later, she pulled away with a horrified look. “Oh, my God, I just cried all over Taft Hill.” She stage-whispered at Lana, “His shirt is all wet.”

  Lana’s throat tightened. “He’s been sweating all day in that shirt, so you got the short end of the stick. He can’t smell good.”

  It was a joke, but Amber took it seriously. “No, he smells amazing.”

  Taft pointed at his damp chest. “I’m right here, ladies. I can hear you.”

  “Thank you,” said Amber.

  He smiled at her. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “I have to go inside and die now.”

  “Please don’t do that. I mean, go inside, but don’t die.”

  The look Amber gave him was made of sparkling glitter and rainbow dust. “Okay. Okay!” She ran away, the saloon door banging behind her.

  Lana’s arms were still wrapped around her knees. A nightjar sang above her head. Her heart beat fast in her chest, flapping around like it was trying to get out.

  She took a quick breath. “I’ll write with you.”

  Taft’s smile went from Nashville-big to Texas-ginormous. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  She looked at her phone. “In an hour? At seven? I really need a shower.”

  Taft looked down at the soggy spot on his T-shirt. “Me, too. Tears ain’t enough to clean me up right now, though she made a good start. Meet you where?”

  “Somewhere that’s not here.” She needed to get away, if only for an hour or two.

  “My place. I bought a house, did I tell you?”

  Shock lit her fingertips with electricity. “You bought one? I heard you talking about the old Adelaide place.”

  “Yeah, on the water. You know it?”

  “Of course. But – I thought you’d just rented it or something.” A rental was temporary.

  “Nope! It’s all mine.”

  Her breath felt tight in her lungs. “That was fast.”

  “Just took three weeks. Came furnished, major selling point.”

  Who closed a house so fast? Money talked, apparently. “So you’re staying.”

  “Forever.”

  “What?”

  For a moment, she thought she imagined a hurt look in the back of his gaze.

  But he laughed. “I’m kidding. It’s no big deal. Vacation house. That’s all.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll be there at seven.”

  “I’ll get us something to eat. What do you like?”

  She decided to tell him the truth. “I would kill for a big, homemade sandwich.”

  Taft nodded. “My specialty. Tomatoes and cheese and avocado and ham sound all right?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll make you the best one you ever had.”

  His eagerness was endearing.

  His smile was contagious.

  Lana should take it back, all of it. She’d go to bed early and read, after eating a plate of nachos from the Golden Spike Café. She’d see him in the morning, and tomorrow after work he’d ask if she wanted to get a drink with the crew. She’d say no. He’d ask if she wanted to write with him later. She’d say no again.

  But Lana didn’t take it back. She stood. “Meet you there.”

  “Great.” He put his hands in his pockets and rocked a little. “That’s great.”

  Maybe it was.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lana showered.

  She picked up the pink razor and considered it, the cool water raining down on her.

  No. Leg shaving was out of the question.

  Lana was not going to have sex with him.

  Then again, why not? It wasn’t like they hadn’t already had sex – well, kind of, anyway. She was a grown-ass adult, and so was he. He was kind. He was a hard worker.

  No. Lana just wouldn’t. She’d ignore the spark that jumped between them every time she glanced up to the roof to find his eyes on her. She’d deny the pull she felt toward whatever room he was hammering inside. She’d veto her own need to keep her fingers near his after he’d handed her whatever tool it was she was looking for.

  It was simpler that way.

  Simple was best, after all. That’s what she was here for. Simplification. Like now, she wasn’t going to drive the five minutes to the Adelaide place – she was going to take fifteen minutes to walk. She’d give herself that time to calm down her sudden nerves.

  Lana nodded at the Homeless Petes as she passed them.

  “Looking good, Darling!”

  They cackled in joy. Lana resisted saying that the pun was so weak it almost wasn’t one.

  Lana hit the two-lane highway and headed north.

  She didn’t bargain on the dog.

  Small and dirty grey, with a curled tail and floppy ears, it took up with her a quarter of a mile out of town.

  “Hello.”

  The dog looked at her as if she’d been waiting for her.

  “What’s up?”

  Lana looked around, but there was no one else out on the highway. It wasn’t like it was a bad road to walk on – the shoulder was wide and the ocean views were phenomenal – but it wasn’t a dog-walking area for townies. Cars went too fast and paid too little attention.

  Cheerfully, the dog walked next to Lana, sticking at her ankle as if she’d been trained to heel.

  She bent to look at it more closely. Burrs tangled in the dog’s fur, and it had a long muddy streak on one side, as if it had fallen asleep in a puddle at one point. There was a cut on its back. “You going to let me touch you, dog?”

  The dog stood still. It sniffed Lana’s hand. Then it licked her, gently.

  “Do you bite? Don’t bite, okay?” Moving as slowly as she could, Lana lifted the dog, ready to drop it if it attacked. How did a person tell if an animal had rabies? It wasn’t foaming at the mouth, so that was good.

  The dog went limp in her arms, as if resting for the first time in years. It was a girl. A muddy, burr-filled, cut-up, mangy little dog. She couldn’t weigh more than ten pounds, if that.

  “You’re a wreck, aren’t you?”

  A small dog like this wasn’t going to last long out here on her own. Lana pulled out her cell and, one-handed, tried looking up the number for animal services.

  No reception.

  “Well, hell.” Lana readjusted the dog in her arms, putting her carefully over her shoulder like a baby. The dog seemed to like it. She panted softly in Lana’s ear. “I guess Taft is hosting two for dinner.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Taft finished the sandwiches ju
st as the doorbell rang. He took a split second to admire his handiwork, then went to open the door.

  “You have got to see how big and awesome I just made these sandwiches. Did you walk? I didn’t hear a car. Holy crap, is that a dog?”

  Lana marched past him, smelling like shampoo and something sweeter. “She needs water.”

  “Of course.”

  “And chicken. Do you have any chicken?”

  Taft felt as if he’d spun in a circle although he’d been standing still. “I do, as a matter of fact, leftovers from dinner the other night. Will she mind peanut sauce?”

  “No clue. Let’s try.”

  Lana kneeled on the floor next to the bundle of skin and fur that was supposedly a dog as it drank from one of Taft’s cereal bowls. “Do you think she looks sick?”

  “Nah, she just looks lost.”

  She looked up at him. “How old do you think she is?”

  Had she never had a dog? “You can get a good idea from the teeth, but I don’t know her well enough to take those kinds of advantages.”

  “I do.” Gently, Lana lifted the dog’s wet lip. “They’re white. But big.”

  “Maybe a year, then. Or two.”

  Lana had fire in her eyes. “Who would do that? Abandon a little thing like this?”

  Taft kneeled next to her. The dog growled and her hackles went up. “Easy there, little one.” He held out his hand. “Don’t worry, dogs love me.”

  Well, it was usually true. Not this dog, though. It snapped at him, a vicious click of sharp white teeth closing so close to his fingers that he could feel the air they stirred. “Damn.”

  “Careful!” Lana patted the dog’s head.

  “I was trying to pet her!”

  “She’s traumatized. She needs to eat and drink.”

  Taft stood. “Okay, then. So do we. By that I mean I’m starving. You want one of these?” He held up a plate. The sandwiches rose six inches high.

  Lana nodded. She washed her hands at the kitchen faucet. “That looks amazing.”

  No, Lana was the one who looked amazing. Taft cleared his throat. “Come onto the porch. Let the dog work on the food. We’ll leave the door open so she can see us. She can come out when she feels like it.”

  To his surprise, Lana followed his instructions. Her head kept turning to look at the little beast, but she sat next to him at the outside table.

  He watched as Lana took a huge bite.

  “Oh,” she groaned around a mouthful. “Thish ish perfectch.”

  “Nothing like a good sandwich.” The woman in front of him was the thing that was “perfectch,” not her food. Her dark hair was as messy as the dog’s, though with fewer burrs. It was still a little damp, as if she’d just towel-dried it before she left the hotel. She had no make-up on, and her cheeks were ruddy from the walk. Her black shirt was ripped at the shoulder, and her jeans (these were a tighter and darker blue than her work jeans) were a little too long for her, so all he could see of her cowboy boots were the toes. She looked like a street musician, someone who’d be busking for money outside Grand Central in New York, or on Powell Street in San Francisco.

  His heart ached just looking at her.

  Jesus, he had it bad.

  Get it together, Hill.

  She reached in her back pocket and pulled out a small red notebook. “Never leave home without it.”

  He took his father’s mechanical pencil out of his pocket. “Okay. What are we writing?”

  “It’s your song, buddy. What do you want it to be?”

  He sure as hell knew one thing – he didn’t want it to be a song about a woman who called him “buddy.” He clicked his pencil. “Love.”

  She sighed. “Boring.”

  “Love hasn’t been boring in the history of humankind, and we’re not going to be the ones who finally hit the end of its interestingness.”

  Lana craned her head to look in the house again. “I can’t see her. You think she’s okay?”

  “She’s fine.” Damn, the food was good. “This really is a masterpiece. The secret is toasting the bread lightly first.”

  Lana wasn’t listening. “I’m just going to check on her. I’ll be right back.”

  Taft watched the water crash on the rocks below while she was inside. It was the most romantic spot in the world.

  He took another bite of his lonely sandwich.

  Lana was taking forever in there.

  “Where are your towels?” she yelled at one point.

  “Closet in the hall! You need help?”

  “No! Enjoy the view!”

  There was only one view he’d really enjoy right now, and she was inside, doing something with a mangy mutt who hated him.

  Ten minutes later, she poked her head out. “We’re almost done. Do you happen to have a hair dryer?”

  “What? No. I don’t think so.” In Nashville he did, of course. If a woman stayed over, she expected to be able to dry her hair in the morning. Here, it was just him.

  Lana’s hair didn’t look like she spent a lot of time on it.

  “Never mind. That’s a really good sandwich. I swear I’ll be out to finish it in a minute.” She disappeared again.

  Long minutes later, the sun had almost set. Taft was considering the second half of her sandwich when Lana came back outside.

  “Look!” Lana held up a different dog.

  This one was fluffy and golden-white. The burrs had been clipped out. Her feet, which had been black, were now blonde. Taft could swear the dog was smiling in her arms, and who could blame the critter? “What did you do with the horrifying animal you came in with?”

  Lana stroked the dog’s head. “I used the purple bottle of shampoo in your master bath. And your beard trimmer. Sorry about that. There’s some clean-up in there I still need to do, but I wanted to show you first.” She reached for her sandwich. “I’m dying to finish this.”

  “Are you keeping her?”

  “No!”

  But Lana’s fingers stroked the dog’s ears, which looked silky soft now. Not that Taft was going to try to find out. Just meeting the dog’s eyes had earned him a low growl. “Mmm-hmmm.”

  “No way. I don’t have a place for a dog.”

  “Why not? Hotel rules?”

  “Nah, I’m always on the …” She broke off.

  Taft finished the sentence for her. “On the road. Didn’t you say you’d retired from that?”

  “Still.”

  “Seems like a perfect time to get a dog. Even if said dog hates men.”

  Lana gave him a dazzling smile. “She doesn’t hate men. At least, we don’t know that for sure yet. We only know she hates you.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first girl.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  She looked honestly perplexed. “Who could hate you? That’s like hating ice cream or ponies.”

  “Oof. That’s how you think of me?”

  “Of course.” But she bit her bottom lip and didn’t meet his eyes.

  “I’m mean and cold and bitter.”

  Lana pointed the dog’s foot at him. “And this is a Great Dane.”

  “I’m just worried you have a guard dog now. Her job seems to be keeping me away from you.”

  Lana seemed delighted by the idea. “Really?”

  He could prove it. Taft touched Lana’s elbow. The dog made a rumble in the back of her throat.

  “That? That’s practically a purr.” Lana offered the dog a small piece of ham, which it took, of course.

  “She’s looking at me like she wants to eat my face.”

  “Only if you’re made of ham.” Lana wasn’t pulling away from his touch. In fact, she’d leaned against him a little.

  Carefully, Taft slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder. Her skin was warm through the thin fabric, and his heartbeat sped up.

  The dog’s rumble became a growl. Taft jerked back his hand. “I want to keep all my fingers, thanks.”

 
; Lana laughed. “I wonder what she’d do if you tried to kiss me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The words tumbled out of Lana’s mouth before she could stop them. She pulled in a breath and held it.

  Taft’s eyes darkened in a way that made Lana’s insides feel like Louisiana swampland, all heat and steam. “I’ve been wondering that, too.”

  Maybe you should try. She didn’t say it. She wouldn’t.

  He heard her anyway. He shrugged. “Her teeth look sharp, but they’re small. Probably won’t need stitches.” He reached forward to put his hand behind her head.

  Lana registered the dog’s growl and felt the rumble on her lap. But when Taft kissed her, she forgot to worry.

  Heat rose between them. A solid wall of flame rushed over them, and every nerve in her body lit with electricity. His mouth was firm, his lips demanding. He smelled like soap and when she put her fingers into his hair, she found it still damp.

  He drew her closer, and she didn’t mind giving him what he wanted – her mouth was his to plunder, completely. The bottom of her stomach plunged and she felt herself getting wet.

  The dog was pressed between them. Her growls became louder.

  It didn’t matter. All Lana wanted to do was to keep kissing Taft, to keep her mouth on his, to keep feeling him take her mouth in the same way she wanted him to take her body, and –

  “Jesus!” Taft pulled back sharply.

  “Did she bite you?” Lana looked at the dog on her lap. “Did you bite him?”

  “She started to. I pulled my arm away in time, but I felt her teeth brush my skin.”

  “She wouldn’t really bite you.” Lana’s breath was short, and she felt as flushed as Taft looked. The man was made of sex, wasn’t he? He was just a tall piece of sex walking around, all broad chest and rugged jaw and eyes that a girl could lose herself in. It was amazing that he didn’t have women trailing behind him, grabbing at his ankles as he moved through the world. How did he function in life, being that devastatingly hot?

  “You have no idea whether she’d bite me or not.”

  Lana grinned. The inside of her mouth tasted like him. Delicious. “I have no clue.”