by Eva Haining
“Hey, everyone.” As I hand my offering to A.B., Maddox eyes the flawless apple pie with a knowing smile but keeps it to himself.
“Hey, Ellie. What can I get you?” There’s a cooler full of non-alcoholic beverages to choose from, and after last night, I’m glad I don’t have to catch a whiff of tequila.
“Water would be great.”
“Yeah, A.B. banned any alcohol today. She was feeling it this morning when the kids got up and started jumping on the bed.”
“God bless her. I have no desire to drink again anytime soon.” He hands me a chilled bottle of water. “Can I help with anything?”
“We’ve got it all covered. We’re just waiting on our last guest, who should be here any minute, and we’ll start plating.”
“Anyone I know?”
“No. A friend who’s just come back into town for a while. He lives down on the farm, so y’all are practically neighbors.”
“Cool. I’m still trying to remember people’s names. I’ll make an effort to learn my neighbor’s name.”
“Speak of the devil.”
“And he shall appear. Hey, Mad, thanks for the invite.” His mystery guest has just arrived, and as Maddox pulls him in for a bromance hug, I catch sight of my new neighbor.
If this guy is the devil, I’m finding a shortcut to hell. He’s tall and lean, clearly muscular under his crisp white t-shirt, but it’s his eyes that have me struggling to catch my breath. They’re ice-blue, almost gray, and coupled with his effortlessly perfect messy black hair, he’s handsome beyond all reason.
“Johnny. Welcome back, brother. It’s good to see you. You’re looking a damn sight better than the last time I saw you.”
“Roadkill looks better than I did the last time I was here. I’m feeling good and happy about the dinner invite. I could eat a horse.” I wonder what happened to him when he was here before. Was he sick? Is he sick?
“Johnny, I’d like to introduce you to one of your new neighbors. This is Ellie.”
He turns to greet me, his hand outstretched. “Pleasure to meet you, Ellie, I’m Johnny.” As I shake his hand, my skin sizzles where his strong, callused fingertips touch my flesh, and I reflexively pull away as if I’ve been electrocuted. His eyes find mine, and I’m mesmerized by the intensity of his stare.
“Nice to meet you.” I want to say something smart or funny, but I find myself dumbstruck like a schoolgirl. His gaze is guarded—more inquisitive than heated—but there’s definitely a spark between us—literally.
“Dinner is ready!” A.B.’s voice cuts through the tension, breaking our stare. It’s probably for the best. No one who looks like he does is the ‘good guy.’ He has bad boy written all over his chiseled face.
“Shall we take our seats?” Even his voice drips with sex, low and a little rough. He holds a chair out for me to sit, his eyes tracking my every move.
“Thanks.”
The food looks amazing, and as everyone starts to dig in, I try to make small talk, achingly aware of his proximity. “So, Johnny, what brings you to Kingsbury Falls?”
“I’m taking some time off, and my sister lives here with her husband. I have a place not far from here, so I thought I’d come and stay for a few months.”
“That’s great. What do you do for a living? Having the flexibility to travel to see family for an extended period is awesome. The most I ever get off is a week at Christmas.”
He looks at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language. “You don’t know what I do?” What a weird question.
“Why would I? We just met.”
It takes him a moment before he answers. “Just ignore me. I didn’t sleep well last night, and my brain is all over the place today. How do you know Mad and A.B.? I haven’t seen you around here before.” He evades my question. Maybe he’s a gigolo or a stripper. He has the body for it—toned in all the right places.
“I used to work with A.B. in New York.”
“A.B., I thought you’d always lived here. How did it escape me that you used to live in New York?” Johnny has a puzzled furrow to his brow as he questions our host.
“Because you live up your own butt?” She gives him that sassy grin of hers I remember so well.
“True.” Everyone laughs.
“Ellie, you better not be telling all my secrets.”
“No, I’m going to limit it to one per dinner so I can draw it out for a few years. There are so many stories, I don’t know where to begin.”
“Moving on…” A.B. chuckles, changing the subject. “Your apple pie looks amazing.”
“You’re really going to shame me in front of your friends? It won’t help your case with my vault of secrets.” She and I fall right back into our old ways—jokes and jibes at every turn. “I tried making one from scratch, but it came out of the oven the color of Johnny’s hair, the consistency of a doorstop, and didn’t even resemble an apple pie. I couldn’t leave everyone without dessert. Trust me, you’ll thank me for my store-bought offering.”
Everyone is amused by my confession, so I guess I’m settling in just fine.
“I’m glad you’re a better doctor than you are a baker.” After another chuckle at my expense, they all resume talking amongst themselves, and I’m thankful for the reprieve.
“You’re a doctor?”
“Yes. I just moved here to takeover running the therapy center.”
“You’re a shrink?”
“That’s what they wrote on my doctorate. I think it’s considered the formal title now.” His lip creeps up on one side in a crooked grin, and it’s sexy as hell.
“A funny shrink. Now that I’ve never encountered before.”
“You’re one of the enlightened? You’ve seen a shrink before.”
“If by enlightened, you mean severely fucked up, then yes.”
“We all have our crosses to bear, and I’m a firm believer in helping to relieve the burden if only a little.”
“How many other fancy ways do you have to make a guy feel better about being a mess?”
“How long have you got?”
“All the time in the world.”
“Well, I’m new in town, obviously, so maybe you could use some of that time to show me around?”
He rakes his hand over the scruff of his jaw, his cool gaze distant. “I can’t. I mean, I can, but I don’t know the town as well as these guys.”
“Okay. Message received.” I’m so embarrassed, and he’s quick to pick up on it.
“No, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You’re gorgeous. Fuck. You’re nice. That’s what I meant. You’re nice, and I’m not.”
“I didn’t propose or anything. I was just thinking a walk around town and a coffee, maybe drinks.”
“Walking and coffee sound good.” Could this get any worse? I’m being firmly put in the daytime bracket.
“Great.” I spend the rest of dinner picking at my food and making conversation with anyone but Johnny. Thankfully, he’s talking cars with Jax, and I’m happy to busy myself with clean-up.
As I scrape off the plates and load the dishwasher, A.B. sidles up beside me. “Hey, friend.”
“Hey, girl. Thanks for dinner. It’s a nice change from a bowl of Cheerios.”
“Anytime.” She’s hovering.
“What’s up? Your silence is deafening right now.”
“Remember what we were talking about last night?”
“I remember very little after the fourth margarita.”
“Your knack for picking a certain kind of guy.”
“My bad-boy fetish?”
“Yeah. As your friend, I don’t want you to make the same mistake again, so I’d avoid walks and coffee.” I’m stunned. A.B. isn’t one to voice her opinion of someone else, and she’s clearly uncomfortable with this small word of caution.
“Johnny?” I whisper.
“He’s a lovely guy with a big heart, but I know you’ve been through the wringer, and so has he. I just don’t want to see either of you getting
hurt. I’m sorry if I’m out of line for saying something.”
“Not at all. I’d already pegged him for a bad boy. Look at that face and those eyes. They scream bad boy in all their mouthwatering glory.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty easy on the eye.”
“Who’s easy on the eye?” Maddox doesn’t look happy as he sets the last of the dishes on the countertop.
“You, baby. Who else?”
“I don’t believe you for a second, but you’re not wrong.” He follows my gaze to where Johnny is still deep in conversation with Jax. “The resident musician. I suppose he’s got the tortured artist, guitar god shit going on if you like that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, women hate that. Hot guitarists, yuck.” She scrunches her nose and feigns innocence. “I love you, cowboy. Now, go away so I can talk boys with my friend.”
“You’ll pay for that one later, Mrs. Hale.” He slaps her ass before leaving us to chat.
“I’m counting on it.”
“Musician? I thought he looked familiar. Is he famous?”
“Have you been living under a rock? Beyond New York is one of the hottest bands out there right now.”
I clamp my hand over my mouth. Holy shit. He’s Johnny Reed. The definition of a bad boy. “Oh my God. I’m such a dork. I was asking him what he does for a living. If the ground swallowed me whole right now, I’d be okay with it.”
“Now you see why I said what I said?”
I think for a moment on what I know about him. Rose to fame last year with a huge debut record. Parties with beautiful women after every gig. Drug overdose. It hits me like a punch to the chest. Johnny overdosed less than a year ago and almost died onstage.
“Yeah, I do.”
Five
Johnny
Jax and his family are heading home, so I figured that’s my cue too.
“I’m going to call it a night. Thanks for having me, dinner was great.” A.B. is talking in hushed whispers in the kitchen with the new town shrink. Of course, when a real in-person therapist shows up in this town, she has to be hotter than the face of the sun. Why couldn’t it be an old guy who resembles Santa and smells like musty books?
A.B. pulls me in for a hug before being crowded by Jax’s family.
“I’m going to head out too. Thanks for dinner. I’ll repay the favor when I learn how to cook a non-toxic meal.” Ellie avoids my gaze as she says goodbye to her friends.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” A.B. says with a smile.
“It was nice to meet you, Ellie.” I shove my hands in my pockets and turn on my heels before she has the chance to offer lackluster enthusiasm. I made enough of an ass of myself with the whole, ‘Walking and coffee. You’re gorgeous. I’m not a good guy.’ The sooner I get out of here and punch myself in the face when I get back to my apartment, the better. How hard is it to just have a conversation like a normal human being?
I realize too late that Ellie and I are walking in the same direction. I can’t turn back now, so I guess we’re committed to an awkward walk home.
“We really are neighbors. Does this count as chivalry that I’m walking you home?” I break the silence, apparently discontent to end my streak of verbal diarrhea for the evening.
“I think it only counts if you live in the opposite direction. You have to be put out in some way. Easy chivalry is… easy.”
“You have a way with words, I see.” I can work with humor.
“I’m tired. You get the point. Plus, you’re stuck with me because we live in the same direction, so that definitely doesn’t count.”
“Got it. Chivalry is dead. At least for me.”
“Yeah. We should’ve asked A.B. for some coffee to go, and you could make good on your obligation to show me around town. Walking and coffee, right?” She’s teasing, but there’s a hint of annoyance in there. She’s not a good liar—I like that.
“Can we just forget my word vomit tonight and start over?”
“Sure.” We walk for a few minutes in semi-comfortable silence before she drops the bomb. “You’re a musician. That must be exciting. Have you always been into music?” Damn, she knows who I am. I guess that was short-lived.
“If you knew who I was, why did you ask what I do for a living?”
“I didn’t know until just now. Maddox mentioned it when I was talking to A.B. I thought you looked familiar but couldn’t place you. When he said you were a musician, I realized what a fool I made of myself at dinner.”
“You didn’t look a fool at all. I actually found it endearing. Being Johnny Reed comes with a lot of baggage and judgment these days. It was nice to think for a moment I could make a friend who doesn’t see me that way.” I need to stop oversharing with this woman. Maybe it’s because I know she’s a therapist.
She stops in her tracks and reaches for my arm. “There’s no judgment here, Johnny. Not from me. It can’t be easy being around the lifestyle and in the media all the time, then deciding to get clean.”
“Are you doctoring me now? I don’t need any more shrink talk. I get plenty.”
“I wasn’t trying to doctor you. I just want you to know that I have a lot of respect for the path you’re choosing for yourself right now.”
There’s no pity in her eyes, only sparkling green warmth and compassion. It’s a welcome change, and I didn’t realize how much I needed it. “Thanks.”
“How long are you here in town for?”
“Are you asking as a potential friend or a shrink?”
“Friend. But, if you ever need to speak with a professional, you can come to me. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m very good at what I do. I’d be happy to work with you or recommend someone.” A wave of disappointment washes over me. I know I can’t start something right now, and certainly not with her, but I can’t deny I’m attracted to her, and the thought of her being happy to treat me as a patient and nothing else is a letdown.
“I have a shrink, and he’s pretty good. I’m up for friendship if you’re interested?”
“Yeah.” She doesn’t seem too keen on the idea, brushing her fingertips over the long grass, looking anywhere but at me.
“We might be neighbors, but I’m not going to force you to hang out with me. We can be acquaintances at Mustang dinners and people who give a head nod on the street.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so uninterested. It’s just that I thought we had a spark when we met tonight, and… look at you. You’re sexy as hell.” I’m surprised by her honesty, but it’s refreshing.
“Then why would you offer to be my shrink if you want to jump my sexy bones?”
She rolls her eyes but can’t hide the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “God, you’re going to be insufferable now.”
“What? I’m sexy. You dig all this,” I say, gesturing to my abs.
“And that’s exactly why friendship is harder than a working relationship. I’m great at compartmentalizing. A hot patient is still a patient. I’d never cross that line. It’s unethical and such an abuse of power. But being friends with a guy I’m attracted to, and a bad boy at that, it never ends well.”
I consider her for a moment. “I’m a bad boy? You’ve only known me for a few hours. How can you make that observation so quickly? I thought you said no judgment.”
“You’re a bonafide rock star. You are notorious for loving the groupies, and until lately, you’ve been living it large, enjoying everything fame has to offer. Am I wrong? Throw in the fact that you’re effortlessly exuding sex from every pore, and you’re a perfect storm of bad boy.”
“Everything you just said, other than that last sentence, which I love, by the way, is all thirdhand information and conjecture by media.”
“Fair enough. Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong about you. You’re a good guy who lost his way a little. No bad boy running through those veins.”
I stand in front of her, blocking her path. Searching her gaze, I want so badly to tell her all those things and kiss her l
ike the bad boy I know myself to be, but I can’t lie to her. She’s too smart to believe me, and I’m done lying to women, and more importantly, to myself.
My breath is shallow as I stand two feet away—close enough to catch the scent of her perfume in the evening breeze but too far to feel her breath on my lips.
“You’re not wrong.” It’s a tough admission for me, but maybe it’s a sign of progress. I shove my hands back in my pockets because they’re twitching to cup her face and pull her in for a kiss.
We walk the rest of the way in silence until Ellie’s place comes into view. It’s on the far side of this field, so on a technicality, if I walk her to her door, I’m going out of my way, and therefore earn my Eagle Scout badge for chivalry.
“You don’t have to walk me all the way. This is fine. Good night, Johnny.” She doesn’t give me an option, which is probably for the best.
“Good night, Ellie.”
My place is less than a five-minute walk from here, but I manage to draw it out, scuffing my boots in the tall grass, looking to the clear night sky. Stars shine bright—not something you see in New York with all the light pollution—and for a few moments, my problems seem so small and insignificant in the vastness of the galaxy. It gives me comfort.
Maybe if my issues are a spec in the universe, I have a chance in hell of overcoming them and finding a way to become a good guy—the kind of man worthy of someone like Ellie. She might be attracted to the shell, but a woman of her caliber could never love a guy as messed up as me.
“Put me to work, I need a distraction. Sitting around the house is just making me write the most depressing shit in the world.” After my NA meeting last night in the next town over, I talked with my new sponsor, Jade, and she suggested I try doing something more physical during the day to keep idle hands busy.
What better way to get physical than working on the ranch?
“Are you serious? You’re in worse shape than Hollywood when he thought it would be fun to play cowboy.”
“Jasper worked the ranch?”
Jax bursts out laughing. “Are you kidding? He moved a few bales of hay. It was pitiful. You’ve got that lean muso vibe going on, so I doubt you could even manage that.” One thing I’ll say for Jax—he always makes me laugh, even when it’s at my expense.
