Strummin’ Up Love (Musicians 0f Long Valley Book 1)

by Erin Wright

  “People are never what they seem on the outside,” Wyatt said quietly, almost as if he could read Zane’s every thought. “My wife is a cop; I met her while in jail; and I met my future adopted son while serving out community service. Most everyone around here knows my story, but I imagine if you didn’t, it’d come as a real shock to you.”

  “I have to admit I didn’t have a clue,” Zane said, his voice just as quiet, keeping it from the prying ears of the others milling around the arena. “You don’t look like the convicted criminal type. I—”

  But a ruckus broke out on the other end of the arena, cutting off the rest of Zane’s sentence. He couldn’t hear what Skyler was saying but even from over here, he knew it was his son, hollering about something.

  “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and took off at a run for the far end of the arena, Wyatt on his heels.

  When he got there, he pulled up short, staring at the disaster in front of him. It was Skyler and Juan again, knocking heads over something. Skyler was perched on a hay bale, his useless legs dangling as he shouted up at Juan to stop bossing him around. Juan was shaking his finger in Skyler’s face and shouting back that he wouldn’t do it if Skyler didn’t need it.

  “Dammit,” Wyatt muttered under his breath.

  Before either of them could figure out what to do, though – pick the two boys up by the scruff of the neck and shake them? Paddle their asses? – Louisa came striding over from where she’d been hanging out with some women. “All right, you two,” she said calmly, hands on both of their chests, pushing them apart, “I could hear you hollering from all the way over there.” She jerked her head towards the knot of women who were looking on with interest.

  At least, the ones who weren’t looking at Zane with interest. He carefully avoided any eye contact with The Herd, as he mentally termed them. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that every day, the group of women who were staying at the camp the entire time instead of just dropping their kids off and picking them up later was growing. In fact, Zane was fairly sure that at least a few of them didn’t even have kids attending the camp.

  Both Juan and Skyler started in on their version of the story, trying to talk over the other one and be heard, when Louisa let out a low whistle. They both shut up.

  “I don’t care if you guys poured gasoline on each other and then set the other person on fire,” she said calmly. “The police might, but I don’t. You two need to knock it off. You’ve been sniping at each other all morning. Juan, I know Skyler is new to this, but you’ve got to stop hovering over him and critiquing every little thing he does. If someone followed you around and told you that you were screwing something up every 30 seconds, how would you feel about it?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. He glowered but said nothing.

  “And Skyler, Juan has been doing this a whale of a lot longer than you have. He’s beat the video game, and you just picked up the controllers yesterday. Stop acting like you know how to do every damn thing. You might just learn a thing or two from him.” Skyler’s glower was a perfect match to Juan’s. “Skyler, get back up on your horse. Juan, you too. Then you two can ride around the arena together. Side by side. Do ten laps. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you until you’re done.”

  She helped Skyler maneuver his horse over to the mounting block made specifically for paraplegics, and then helped him get on. She waited until he and Juan took off at a sedate walk around the arena before turning back to the crowd and saying with a cheerful smile, “Okay, whose kid did I just boss around?”

  A ripple of laughter spread through the group at the question, and then as they all dispersed, Wyatt and Zane came hurrying over. Zane couldn’t keep his eyes off Louisa. She was a wonder. A miracle. A gift from the gods.

  “Juan is mine,” Wyatt said, doffing his hat with one hand and shaking hands with Louisa with the other. “He’s a bit of a know it all,” he admitted with a sheepish grin as he settled his hat back on his head.

  “Hey, aren’t you the oldest of the Miller brothers?” Louisa asked.

  “I am. Damn good memory you got there. I think we only met once, and you were just a kid.”

  “You just look a lot like Stetson,” Louisa said with a shrug and grin. “He was there whenever we came visiting Carmelita.”

  “Him being the baby and all, he stuck around a lot longer than Declan and me,” Wyatt said. “But anyhow, thanks for taking care of Juan and Skyler like that. Juan’s got a good heart but he isn’t always the best at knowing when to step back and let other people just make a mistake for themselves.”

  “Eh, he’s a kid. He’ll learn soon enough. I think him and Skyler could become good friends if they could stop bickering long enough.”

  They both chuckled that aren’t our kids so cute chuckle together, leaving Zane just standing there, quiet as he watched the two of them start to chat about their sons, swapping war stories.

  Except, Skyler was Zane’s son, not Louisa’s.

  But when shit hit the fan, who knew what to do with him? Louisa.

  Why was it again that she didn’t have kids? Oh, that’s right. She wasn’t sharing.

  His gem-of-a-find was hiding more than a few secrets, and unlike that herd of women all standing together and tittering at God knows what, he actually wanted to learn all of Louisa’s secrets.

  And that was a very, very, very bad sign.

  “What do you think, Zane?” Louisa asked him, yanking him out of his thoughts.

  He blinked and then plastered a smile on his face. “Sorry, you caught me daydreaming,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “What was the question?”

  “Wyatt was wondering about having us over to Stetson’s place for dinner,” Louisa said. “My aunt can cook for us. Get to work on fattening up Skyler.”

  “The kid could stand to have a little meat on him,” Zane said with a sigh. When he was Skyler’s age, he had a hollow leg. He could eat anything and everything in a ten-mile radius and still be hungry when he was done. Skyler only picking at his food was a foreign concept to him, that was for damn sure.

  “He’s eating a little more lately,” Louisa reminded him. “It’s his activity levels. Just sitting around, playing video games doesn’t work up an appetite. Kayaking, horseback riding, our exercises…he’s starting to eat more, and get more color into his cheeks. Anyway,” she waved a hand dismissively, “what about Wyatt’s offer? Dinner at Stetson’s place?”

  “We’d love to,” Zane said, shaking Wyatt’s hand with appreciation. “After everything I’ve heard about Carmelita’s cooking, I think I just might show up with sweatpants on, though. Just so I’m prepared.”

  Wyatt let out a belly laugh at the idea. “Carmelita is not one of those people who approves of a body wearing sweatpants outside of their bedroom, but I bet if you told her why you were, she just might forgive you and give you an extra helping of dessert.”

  “She does sound like my kind of woman,” Zane said with a naughty grin. “My publicist would kill me if I came back to Tennessee this fall twenty pounds heavier, but ooohhhh, the memories would be worth it.”

  Louisa rolled her eyes. “I don’t even want to hear about it,” she said primly. “Guys get a little potbelly, and they’re just ‘getting a little stocky.’ Women gain three pounds in their thighs, and suddenly, they’re letting themselves go and need to survive on celery sticks for the next month to lose it all.”

  “You sound like my wife, Abby. If I had a dollar for every time she pointed out the discrepancies between how men and women were treated…well, I’d have a lot of dollars.”

  But Zane had stopped paying attention again. He was busy mentally drooling over Louisa’s thighs. They were delicious-looking in her short shorts – long and caramel and smooth, with lots of muscle and thighs that’d wrap around his head as he was down between her thighs, taking her on a ride to heaven…

  She could say what she wanted, but in Zane’s mind, she was as perfect as they came.

  And that was a really, really,
really big problem.

  CHAPTER 15

  LOUISA

  T HEY PILED out of the Audi and into the bright summer sunshine, Skyler quickly transferring himself to his wheelchair and zipping up to the front porch of the farmhouse where he came to an abrupt stop. He stared at the two steps that led up to the front porch, so innocent. So benign.

  So unattainable.

  “Dammit,” Louisa muttered under her breath. The Miller family farmhouse had been built over a hundred years ago, long before anyone had any concept about ADA and wheelchair access. “Coming,” she called out, hurrying over to his side before he could spend too much time contemplating the unfairness of the world. He had enough chances to think about things like that; he didn’t need to do it here, in the home of her tia.

  As if her thoughts had summoned her, Carmelita opened up the front door with a wide smile. “Mi sobrina,” she said. “Oh, it is so good to see you again. You look just like your mother.” Louisa chuckled under her breath as she maneuvered the wheelchair up the steps, trying not to jostle Skyler too much. Carmelita said that every time she saw Louisa. It was true that Louisa was a spitting image of her mother, but 24 years younger. If anyone ever wanted to know what Louisa would look like when she was older, they just had to take one look at her mother.

  Finally, Skyler was firmly on the front porch and Louisa could turn to give her tia a long hug. She was a short, round woman who always wore her graying hair up in a bun, her mouth curved into a permanent smile. Louisa had inherited her height from her father, and found with a bit of shock that her beloved aunt only came up to about her shoulder or so. Had Carmelita shrunk? Or had Louisa just grown a lot since they’d last seen each other?

  “You are so tall,” Carmelita clucked. “Just like your father. Now, who is this handsome young man?”

  “Tia Carmelita,” Louisa said, “this is Skyler Risley, and his father, Zane Risley.” She stepped out of the way so Zane could shake her hand too, but Carmelita only had eyes for Skyler.

  “Oh, it looks like you have not been eating enough pan dulce,” Carmelita said with a sad shake of her head. “Come inside, come inside. I do not have any pan dulce made right now, but I do have cookies. Peanut butter – do you like peanut butter?”

  “I do,” Skyler said eagerly, popping his front tires up over the doorstep and then waiting impatiently for Zane to lift up the back part of his wheelchair and get him over the hump. Once he was in there, he was off, Carmelita leading the way to the kitchen, chatting about the different cookies they could make together that afternoon.

  Stetson, who’d apparently been hanging off to the side to allow Skyler through, stepped forward, shaking Louisa and then Zane’s hand. “Good to see you both again,” he said with an easy smile. Louisa waited for the storm of butterflies to swarm through her stomach as they always did when Stetson was around. She must’ve harbored a secret crush on him for a dozen years by this point.

  But even his calloused hand in hers didn’t do a thing. No butterflies – hell, not even a solitary moth – took up fluttering.

  Interesting…

  Was she immune to married men? That must be it.

  “Have you two met my wife, Jennifer?” he asked, stepping back and bringing his wife forward. She was just a tiny thing, dwarfed by her tall husband, and holding a sturdy-looking toddler on her hip. “And this is our baby, Flint.” The pride was so obvious in his voice, he sounded like he’d just won the national rodeo championship. Jennifer lifted Flint’s chubby arm and waved it at them.

  “Oh my goodness,” Louisa said, “he is such an adorable baby!” She heard Stetson and Zane move off to the living room to chat, but she only had eyes for Flint. “How old is he?” she asked, looking up into Jennifer’s startling green eyes. She stifled a sigh of jealousy – her eyes were an ordinary brown that no one would pay a bit of attention to, not the color of spring like Jennifer’s.

  “He’s a little over two – two years and three months, if you count such things,” Jennifer said, just as much pride in her voice as Stetson had had. “I’m quite afraid with Carmelita as a grandmother, he’s going to be spoiled rotten, but at least he’ll be the cutest kid on the block, too. It’ll help him weasel his way out of trouble a little easier.”

  “I have five younger brothers and sisters, including a pair of twin girls, and unfortunately, every word of that is true.” She wrinkled her nose at Jennifer. “My mother let my younger siblings get away with murder. She always told me that she was becoming a better mother as time went on because she was learning patience, but to me…” She shook her head mournfully. “I always told her that we just needed to make one of them disappear, and the other ones would shape right up. It only takes one.”

  Jennifer threw her head back and laughed, and then let the squirming Flint down onto the floor where he gripped her finger and began pulling her towards the kitchen. “Carma, Carma, Carma,” Flint chanted, tugging his mom’s finger.

  “You should talk to Stetson’s older brothers,” Jennifer told Louisa as they began following her son. “According to them, Stetson was the most spoiled child on the face of the planet.”

  “Who was the most spoiled child?” Declan asked as they came through the kitchen doorway. He was tossing a fresh-from-the-oven cookie back and forth, trying to get it to cool down so he could eat it.

  “My husband,” Jennifer said dryly.

  “Oh, that’s true,” Declan affirmed fervently. “Spoiled rotten. It was terrible. I kept telling Mom that she was creating a monster, but she wouldn’t listen to me. Damn good—” Carmelita cleared her throat loudly, “darn good thing you showed up, Jennifer,” he corrected quickly. “Straightened him out.”

  “Stetson has a good heart,” Carmelita said, sliding a plate of gooey-looking cookies onto the kitchen table shoved against the wall. “He just has to be reminded sometimes to make good choices, too.” She sent Declan a meaningful look. “Like not swearing.”

  Declan’s ears turned pink.

  “Best go see that Stetson is taking care of our guest,” he said loudly to the room, and scooted out past Louisa and Jennifer and back into the living room.

  Skyler was pulled up to a long counter, cutting cookies out of sugar cookie dough. “Look at the pumpkin!” he said, proudly pulling a pumpkin-shaped cookie off the counter for Louisa to inspect. “Carmelita says she has a ghost in here too.”

  “You can’t make Halloween cookies already,” Louisa protested, scooting up beside him and tearing a small corner of the cookie dough off and popping it into her mouth. “It’s only July!”

  “No eating the dough!” Carmelita reprimanded, smacking Louisa’s hand lightly. Skyler laughed uproariously at the idea of his nanny getting into trouble. Louisa glared down at him. He grinned unrepentantly.

  “Don’t you have something else to do?” Louisa asked pointedly. “Where’s Juan at?”

  Jennifer, sitting at the kitchen table and doing her best to feed Flint a cookie without having most of it end up in his hair, said, “In the backyard. Actually, Skyler, you should go check it out. Juan has this huge area where he uses bulldozers and trucks to create racetracks for cars.”

  “Real bulldozers?” Skyler asked, his eyes round as quarters.

  “Oh heavens no,” Jennifer said, laughing. “Toy ones. But very realistic. I bet if you asked, he’d let you help.”

  Skyler’s mouth screwed up at the corner and Louisa was sure he was thinking, “Don’t be so sure about that,” but the idea of playing with bulldozers – even if they were toy ones – won out.

  “Thank you, Tia Carmelita,” he said sincerely, grabbed two cookies, put them on his lap, and raced out the back door. Louisa followed right behind him, but saw that Skyler was going to be able to easily get over to the sandbox where Juan was playing, and came back into the kitchen. It was best to always have him do whatever he could by himself whenever he could, and getting out of his wheelchair and down to the ground was absolutely something he could do on his own.
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  “Tia Carmelita?” Louisa asked, snagging a delicious-looking peanut butter cookie from the platter on the table. “So you adopted him, too?”

  “That boy needs someone to fatten him up,” Carmelita said, sliding a tray of cookies into the oven and setting a timer. “He is only skin and bones. He needs to be outside more.”

  “If you think he’s bad now,” Louisa said dryly, “you should’ve seen him when I first took over. He was white as a sheet all the time – no color in his cheeks. Hardly any appetite. Only ever wanted to play video games downstairs in the basement. I think he’d decided that he was only going to be in that wheelchair for the rest of his life, so why even try at anything at all? But now he’s riding at Dr. Whitaker’s camp, and you should’ve seen him kayaking. He took right to it. He’s starting to realize that you can do a lot with your arms that have nothing to do with a game controller, and not only that, but he actually has more control in his legs than I think even he realizes.”

  “Really?” Jennifer said, surprised. She’d given up on trying to hand-feed Flint and was letting him do the job now. He looked like he’d taken a bath in crumbled cookies…and was completely delighted about it. She was sitting back in the kitchen chair, watching Louisa closely. “So what do you think that means for Skyler?”

  “Not much at all if I can’t convince him it’s true,” Louisa said with a dispirited shrug. “Nothing matters more than how much a patient wants something, and Skyler gave up way back when he was still in the hospital. He didn’t think he’d get any better, therefore, he didn’t get any better. We’ve started doing exercises together every day before going to camp – I hold the controller for the console hostage until he does them with me – but he’s only half-hearted at best. If I can just get him to believe…”