"We'll see. I feel like Austin has gone completely over the edge. His career must be in even worse shape than I imagined. There's something driving him to these extremes. I wonder if he's gotten himself into debt. He likes to gamble, and he doesn't often win."
"That's interesting. Maybe I should do a little digging into his financials."
"You might think more about how you're going to protect yourself."
He gave her a quick look. "What do you mean?"
"You're probably in the photos with me. And given your past celebrity, we'll be trending on social media very soon, if we're not already. There will be a lot of speculation, fake stories. They'll have us married and with a secret baby before you know it. Your life is going to be dragged under the spotlight. You need to be prepared."
"Good point. But I'm not worried."
"You should be. They'll make stuff up. They'll turn you and me and Austin into a love triangle. Or they'll splice photos of your ex with photos of me and suggest that we're now fighting over you."
"That would be interesting. But a better story would be that you dropped out of music to have our love child but wait—something happened to the baby. You gave it up for adoption. I came back to reclaim my son, but you had already given him away. Now I'm begging you to tell me where he is."
"That's a good one. I can see that one getting a lot of clicks. Give me another one."
"I'm making a miraculous return to the skiing world, but you're terrified that if I ski again, I'll die, so you're begging me not to do it."
She smiled. "I think the secret baby or the threesome would sell better."
"Although, there's always the supernatural element," he added. "When I crashed on that mountain, I had an out-of-body experience. My knee was trashed but when they put me back together, I had incredible new powers."
"Now, you want to be a superhero?"
"I've always wanted to be a superhero," he said with a laugh.
"I think you've accomplished that, Brodie. What you did the other day, pulling that man out of the lake, that was very heroic."
"I didn't fly or leap tall buildings, so not that amazing."
"Maybe when the stories come out, they'll have you doing that, too. I guess all we can do is laugh."
"That's it," he agreed.
"But I need to warn my family, especially my parents. I'm not looking forward to that."
"Why? Won't they be supportive?"
"They'll probably want to drive up here to see me or convince me to come and stay with them for a while. They're great, don't get me wrong. I adore them. But I just don't want them in the middle of my messy life. My dad has had some heart issues the last couple of years. Stress isn't good for him."
"I didn't know that. I'm sorry."
"He's doing okay at the moment. He has lost about thirty pounds, increased his exercise, and cleaned up his eating. My mom thinks he's the healthiest one of all of us now."
"That's good. Sometimes a scare is just what you need to make changes."
As Brodie stopped at an intersection two blocks from their street, she took off her seat belt and slid down close to the floor. "Do you see anyone?" she asked as he continued driving.
"There's a guy standing on your porch, and two cars with people in them parked in front of your house. Stay down."
Brodie turned into his driveway, pushed the remote to open the garage and then pulled in. She didn't move until the door had closed behind them. "You're safe," he said. "You can get up now."
She got out of the car and followed Brodie into the house. He turned on the hall light but kept the living room lights off as they headed toward the windows overlooking the street.
Peeking through the curtain, she saw there were now two men on the porch and a couple in a car. "I think that's Austin and a woman," she said. "I don't remember seeing a woman at the beach, although with all the flashes going off, I couldn't see much."
"Well, the good news is that it doesn't look like anyone thinks you're here." No sooner had he finished speaking when the couple got out of the car. As they moved under the streetlight, she saw that it was Austin. The woman looked very familiar—the waist-length copper-red hair, the busty chest, and the long legs.
"That's Darla Hunt," she said in surprise. "She's a reporter for Country Beat out of Nashville. I did a story with her several years ago. She's not a paparazzi; she's legit. What is Austin doing with her?"
"He has obviously convinced her there's a story to tell."
They paused in front of her house, then Austin's head turned toward Brodie's home, and she let the curtain drop. "Do you think he saw me?"
"No, but I think he saw my car go into the garage. He's walking across the street with Darla."
Her heart pounded once more. "What are we going to do?"
"You're going upstairs. My bedroom door has a lock on it."
"What will you do?"
"I'll find out what they want. Don't worry, Chelsea. I won't let them in the house. I'll protect you."
As his direct gaze met hers, she knew that Brodie would do exactly as he'd just promised. "I feel like a coward letting you handle this."
"It will be faster and easier if I speak to them. Go."
She ran up the stairs and into Brodie's bedroom. She closed and locked the door behind her and then she turned around.
Unlike most of the rooms in his house, Brodie's bedroom had furniture. An unmade king-sized bed took up most of the room and looking at those twisted sheets brought all kinds of wicked images into her head. Forcing herself to look away, she noted the large television on the wall, the laptop computer on the nightstand, and the comfortable armchair with an ottoman by the window. There were no photographs or pictures on the wall, no skiing memorabilia, no sign of any trophies, which made her wonder where they were, if Brodie still had them stashed away somewhere.
Moving across the room, she realized that Brodie's room was also on the front of the house and just to the left of the front door. She cracked open a window, wondering if she could hear the conversation below.
"Yes?" Brodie asked, as he stood in the doorway, not bothering to close the door behind him. He didn't think Austin or the redhead, would try to get past him, and he didn't want them to think he was hiding anything.
"I thought it was you when you drove down the street," Austin said, his gaze narrowing. "You're always with Chelsea—the inn, the beach."
"Yes, I've witnessed almost all of your ambushes," he said bluntly, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Brodie McGuire. I'm also a cop as you might recall. I work with Adam Cole, Chelsea's brother."
Austin's confidence seemed to waver. "You're in tight with her family."
"I am. What do you want, Mr. Boone?"
"I want Chelsea. You left the beach with her. You must know where she is. Is she here? Is she with you?"
He ignored Austin, turning his attention to the attractive redhead. "What's your name?"
"Darla Hunt, Country Beat magazine," she said with a flirtatious smile. "You used to ski."
"Awhile ago."
"I was working for a sports magazine called Time Out when you were in the Olympics. We covered your accident. It was tragic."
"Wait—what?" Austin asked in confusion.
"He was a big-time skier," Darla told Austin, although her gaze never left Brodie. "And now he's apparently a police officer. That's so interesting."
He frowned as her interest switched to him, although he supposed that was better than having Chelsea as the target.
"Look, is Chelsea here?" Austin interrupted.
"No," he lied. "She's not. So, you can go."
"One second," Darla said quickly. "I'm writing a story on Austin and his hopeful reunion with Chelsea Cole."
"That hope is misplaced. Chelsea has made it clear to Austin that she's not interested in doing anything with him. You both need to accept that and move on."
"I'm looking out for the woman I love," Austin said, infusing passion into his v
oice.
"She's one of the most talented singer-songwriters I've ever known. She has a gift. She needs to use it. It's who she is, and I'm concerned about her."
Brodie had to give Austin credit for being able to play the part of concerned ex-boyfriend so well.
"If you love her, where have you been the last year and a half?" he challenged.
"I was giving her space, as she requested."
"Chelsea really was good," Darla interjected. "Her fans would love to have her back. They're dying to know what she's up to now. If she doesn't want to speak to Austin, perhaps she'd talk to me." She pulled out her card and handed it to him.
"If I see her, I'll pass it along."
As he started to shut the door, Austin pushed back on the frame with his hand.
"You don't want to do that," he warned Austin. "You're getting very close to harassment charges and trespassing. You've made your pitch to Chelsea. She heard you. She said no. Take it like a man and leave."
Fury ran through Austin's eyes. "You don't know my history with Chelsea. You don't know what we were together. I'm not harassing her. I'm trying to save her from this life she's buried herself in."
"If you had her best interests at heart, you wouldn't have brought the press with you."
"I didn't. Those guys…" He tipped his head toward the men who were now standing on his sidewalk, taking shots of their conversation. "They followed me here."
"Sure, they did." He smiled at Darla. "I suppose you followed him here, too."
"No, he invited me. See, I can be honest. Why don't we get coffee—maybe tomorrow? We don't have to talk about Chelsea; we could talk about you."
He was even less interested in that. "Sorry, but no thanks. Good-night."
"Tell Chelsea I know," Austin said abruptly, his gaze hard and cold. "She'll know what I mean."
He closed the door in their faces and let out a breath. Did Austin know Chelsea's secret? Or had that just been another play in his desperate scheme?
Chelsea came down the stairs, a somber look in her eyes. "I heard everything."
"What did you think?"
"Austin sounded scared. He must be in trouble."
"A desperate man is a dangerous man."
"He would never hurt me."
"Maybe not physically, but you don't know how far he'd go to get what he wants. He said something right before he left…"
"I know." Her lips tightened. "He can't know anything, Brodie. Only the police and the family, knew about the note."
"He certainly implied he knows something."
"I'm sure that little comment got Darla's interest, too." She sighed and sank down on the step. "I'm tired."
"Then let's forget about everything for now. There's nothing to be done tonight."
"I need to feed Lady Jane, but I'm afraid to leave this house while everyone is outside."
"I'll do it."
She gave him a soft smile. "You've done so much for me already."
"It's not a big deal to put out cat food."
"And clean the litter box."
"I think I can handle it. How do I get in?"
"The code on the back door is 547206."
He repeated the numbers and then said, "I'll be back in a bit. You might want to check out my new couch in the family room. I had it delivered yesterday, just in case I had company."
She smiled. "Interesting. But what if I prefer the recliner?"
"Go for it. Oh, and don't answer the door."
"Trust me, I won't."
Chapter Sixteen
After Brodie left, Chelsea sat on the stairs for a good five minutes. Her stomach churned at the thought of Austin knowing about the suicide note. The possibility that he might use that information for his own self-interests made her sick. That young man's family had suffered enough. She couldn't let Austin hurt them. But if she gave in to his demands, she'd have to sing again, and it wouldn't just be in a studio. He'd force her to get up on stage. All those people would be looking at her with expectations in their eyes. Her heart raced, and her breath came too fast just at the thought of it. She couldn't do it.
She also couldn't imagine even writing and singing with Austin in a studio. Her emotions had always been part of her music. He'd want to do a love song, and she couldn't sing about love with someone she hated.
She'd never thought she could hate him. But this man was not the man she'd been with. That guy was gone. Or maybe it was just her illusions that were gone. The last year and a half had opened her eyes to so many things she hadn't seen in her quest for stardom.
Her thoughts came to an abrupt stop as the sound of music came from outside. It wasn't just music; it was her voice. It was one of her earliest songs, one she'd written when she'd first gotten together with Austin, and her young voice still held the innocence of that time.
Austin had to be playing her music over a speaker. He must have guessed she was here with Brodie. Or he thought she was hiding in her house. Either way, he wanted her to hear herself, to remember…
She stood up, thinking she'd go into the family room and turn on the television as loud as it would go. She would drown herself out. Force the memories away.
But as the notes and melody washed through her, she found herself lingering by the stairs. She'd been running from her music for a long time, but now she couldn't seem to move.
She heard the back door open and close. Brodie came down the hall a moment later.
"You okay?" he asked, an irritated look in his eyes. "I can't believe he's standing in the middle of the street, playing your music."
"He always knew what buttons to push." She felt a rush of emotions that were more sad than angry. "He wasn't like this before he got famous, before the money and celebrity went to his head. He used to be funny and kind."
"Why don't we go to the back of the house? We can turn on the TV, maybe watch a movie…"
"I was going to do that, but I started listening."
His expression grew thoughtful. "Is this the first time you've heard your music since you quit?"
"Yes."
"It's a beautiful song. It makes me think of summer."
"It was summer when I wrote it. I was living in a two-bedroom apartment with three other female singers. Austin lived across the hall with two guys from his band. We were all friends, all struggling to make it in music. During the day, we'd work whatever job we could find. I bussed tables, sold tickets at the Grand Ole Opry, and led tours through Elvis's studio for the Country Music Museum. At night, I'd play in the honky-tonks on Broadway for the tourists."
"You were happy."
"Broke as could be but optimistic, because it felt like everything was in front of me. The day I wrote that song, it must have been close to a hundred in the apartment. I went up on the roof in my bikini with my guitar and a notepad. The building overlooked the downtown and the river, and looking at that water moving by, I thought about how far I'd come and how far I had yet to go. I put all my dreams into that song. And that night, instead of doing my usual set, I sang my new song in a crowded bar where there were two bachelor parties and one bachelorette party going on. Everyone was drunk. I didn't think anyone was listening, but by some miracle, a scout from Belmont Music was there. He gave me his card and asked me to come in to the studio the next day. I sang for the executives and they signed me to a contract."
"Amazing story," he said.
"It was the best day of my life. At least, that's what I thought then. A few months later, the label had a welcome party for me, and I invited all my friends from the apartment building. At the party, Austin and I sang a duet. A few weeks after, Belmont signed Austin. It was only seven years ago when we were the new rising stars. It feels like a million years now."
"Austin has always owed his success to you."
"He's good, too. He's just more style than substance. He was always smart about trends and giving the audience what it wanted, although sometimes that got him into trouble. Chasing fads is a dangerous game
."
"You didn't do that?"
"Never. I had the opposite problem. I got too self-indulgent with my music, writing more for myself than my fans. That occasionally took me down some not-so-popular paths. But I always loved the music."
"Do you want something to eat, Chelsea? That turkey wrap is a distant dream now. I bought some groceries earlier today. I can make you something."
"Why don't I make you something?" she suggested.
"The superstar singer cooks?" he teased.
"Remember the crappy apartment I just told you about? Well, it came with a lot of ramen noodles and grilled cheese sandwiches. It was cheaper to eat in than out. I got very good at turning nothing into something."
"I don't have any ramen. I might have some cheese. I did pick up a bunch of vegetables and some meat, not sure what I was going to do with it."
"That's perfect."
"I don't know about perfect, but I will definitely let you cook."
"Good. It's about time I did something for you."
"You don't owe me anything, Chelsea."
"I really do, Brodie. And over dinner we will talk about something other than myself. That's a promise."
Chelsea seemed to have caught a second wind. Brodie sat at the kitchen table, sipping on a beer, while Chelsea put together a chicken dish that he'd never imagined was possible when he'd picked up three boneless chicken breasts at the market. He'd thought about throwing them on the grill one night, but now they were sizzling in herbs and butter, and Chelsea had turned a box of wild rice into something spectacular that included fresh tomatoes, peas, and asparagus. She hadn't been joking when she'd said she could make something out of nothing.
She looked happily distracted as well, her face pink from the heat of the stove, her golden-brown hair curling wildly around her face. She was still wearing her cutoff shorts and tank top, and he couldn't help thinking how pretty she was. He could get used to having her in his house, in his kitchen…in his bed.
That thought hardened his body. He wanted to take Chelsea upstairs, so he could have a chance to explore the heat between them. He wanted to strip off her clothes and run his hands all over her very nice curves. He wanted to take her out of her head, out of her past, away from the pain, to a place where there was nothing but pure pleasure—where it was just the two of them.
My Wildest Dream: Whisper Lake #2 Page 15
