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How ironic was it that she’d managed to flee one smothering all-encompassing relationship only to fly into another?
She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘What would have been enough was you doing the one thing you refused to do, no matter how many times I asked. I just wanted you to stop keeping me at an arm’s length, Ritchie. To stop treating me like a favoured groupie. Because that’s how it felt. I was your wife, we were supposed to be a team, but you never really let me in. You glossed over things with me the way you would in interviews. We were together for ten years and I never felt I knew the real you.’
Ritchie held his hands out to Serena, palms open, fingers splayed. ‘But you did, sweet thing. I gave more to you than anyone else.’
Serena didn’t doubt the sincerity of his words. She knew he’d shown hints of vulnerability with her, that he’d never dared to show anyone else. Moments of uncertainty, covered up with a joke. Seconds of sadness, pushed aside when she’d asked what made his lips turn towards the floor. Hell, his being here, even with all the bravado and confidence, was proof of that.
‘I know you did, Ritchie, but it wasn’t enough. There was always an invisible wall that I couldn’t knock down, couldn’t bust through. And I got tired of trying.’
‘So you ran away.’ Ritchie dropped his hands to his side. The fleeting desolation in his eyes had been replaced by his customary ice-cold hardness.
‘I left. It’s not the same as running away. There was a note.’ Serena grabbed the pan, walked it over to the kitchen sink, and placed it in the warm, soapy water. Picking up a scrubbing brush, she began to clean off the chocolate hardening on its surface, glad to have a reason to turn away from Ritchie. If he saw a hint of the guilt she carried for leaving the way she did he’d take it to mean she wish she’d stayed.
‘A note that said bugger all. “I’m sorry. Don’t follow me” isn’t a note, it’s an insult to all that we shared.’
‘And you coming here when I asked you not to is what?’ The nylon bristles of the brush flattened as she took her frustration out on the stainless steel.
‘I was hoping it would show you I’m serious about our marriage. About us. Even if you aren’t.’
Serena dropped the brush with a splash and spun round to face Ritchie, her attempt at calmness evaporating. ‘I was! I took care of us for years. I took care of you. Who stopped you from sliding into a drug and alcohol haze? Your career was about to be over. You were showing up late to concerts, doing a half-arsed job. You were late with your next album. Had it not been for me you’d have been done. A has-been. At least I had the courtesy to leave you while you were on top. When you wouldn’t need me.’ She braced herself against the bench, gripped the edge, refusing to break eye contact. She would not be railroaded into doing anything she didn’t want to do. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
Ritchie ran his hand through his wavy deep-brown hair, and his chest heaved up and down in frustration. ‘So you don’t think I… what? Talked enough with you? Didn’t let you have your say? You think I’m not the kind of man who could let you have control? Take the lead? And because of that you don’t want to be part of my life anymore. Fine.’
Serena blinked, hard and fast. Was she hearing things? Was Ritchie giving up? ‘Good. We’re on the same page. Finally.’
Ritchie nodded. ‘We are. I now know what I have to do. I have to prove to you that I can change. That I can be different. I have to show you I can be the man you need me to be. So I’m going to stay and prove you wrong. My duffel bag’s in the rental. I’ll go grab it. I’m guessing your bedroom is upstairs?’ He jerked his head towards the door that led to the living quarters above the shop.
‘What?’ Serena spluttered. ‘What are you on about? You can’t stay here. I’ve told you to go. This is Rabbits Leap, Ritchie. It’s not the kind of place a rock star wants to stay in. There’s nothing here to amuse you. There are no strip clubs. There are no gambling dens. No women sitting poolside in tiny string bikinis…’ Serena knew she was failing as Ritchie’s lips grinned wider with each of her excuses.
‘You know I don’t care for strip clubs, or gambling, and the only woman I like to see in a string bikini is you. So really, at this point in time, I think Rabbits Leap would suit me quite well.’
‘But aren’t you meant to be working on your album? You can’t very well do it here.’ Just leave, Ritchie, Serena prayed. It had been easy enough to deal with leaving him when he was thousands of miles away, but to have him in her space? Breathing the same air? Sucking the oxygen from the room, leaving her light-headed and dizzy? She knew she might just succumb to his will.
She realised he’d paused. His skin had taken on an uneasy pallor. What had she just said? The album. Was something up with the album? ‘Is everything alright with …’ she stopped herself. No. He wasn’t her problem now. It wasn’t her job to save him. If something was wrong he would have to figure it out himself. Preferably from their home. No. His home. In LA
‘Everything is fine with the album.’ Ritchie’s gaze shifted to his feet. ‘Dandy in fact. But I think a change of environment will be good for me. All this brisk wintry air will do me well. Get the creative juices flowing good and proper. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll get my bag and head up to bed. All this travelling has left me buggered.’ He strode towards the door, paused, and looked over his shoulder. ‘One thing, Serena. I remember you talking about that cone of silence thingy that you lot have going on here for that rugby player… what’s his name… Harper? To make sure he can holiday without being hassled? I’d like that to be extended to me. I mean we’re still married, which means I’m kind of local.’
‘You’ve not once stepped foot in Rabbits Leap, Ritchie. You’re hardly one of us.’ Serena folded her arms and shot him her most scornful look.
‘Well I have now. And I am still family. Come on, sweet thing… it’s the least you can do for me after you just upped and left like you did. Please?’ Ritchie wheedled, turning on his megawatt smile that charmed hundreds of thousands all over the world.
Serena huffed. What harm would it do? He wouldn’t be sticking around for long. Rabbits Leap wasn’t Ritchie’s speed. He’d be bored in no time and out of her hair. ‘Fine. I’ll put the word round that your presence in the village is to be kept quiet.’
‘Great. I appreciate it.’ He tipped an imaginary cap, then headed out to the main road.
To get his bag, Serena realised. So he could sleep in her bed with her.
Oh. Hell. No.
She fished her mobile out of her bottle green apron pocket and punched in the digits for The Bullion. ‘Answer, answer, answer,’ she chanted as it rang through.
‘You’ve reached The Bullion. How can I help?’ Tony the publican’s cheery voice boomed down the line.
‘Tony, thank God. I’m so glad you answered. It’s Serena. Do you have any rooms available? Any at all. Big. Small. I don’t care. I just need a bed.’
‘But you already have a bed? Don’t tell me you’ve family coming for Christmas too? Seems everyone’s family’s returning to the Leap this year.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s something like that. So, do you?’ Serena’s foot tapped impatiently.
‘Sorry, Serena. All booked up.’
‘Shit.’
‘I’ll give you a beer next time you’re in to say sorry.’
‘Sweet of you, Tony, but no beers needed. I’ll figure something else out. Gotta go.’ Serena hung up and began to pace back and forth. Where could Ritchie stay that was far, far away from her? A place that would preferably hasten his desire to leave?
She stopped, a mix of guilt and delight tugging her heart in two opposing directions. Ritchie didn’t deserve what she was about to suggest, but he had left her no other option.
‘Brrrrr.’ The man himself shivered as he dropped his duffel on the floor in the front of her.
‘Pick that up.’ Serena ordered. ‘I’ve found a place for you to stay.’
‘I’m staying with you.’
‘No, you’re not. I won’t have you underfoot while I finish getting this place ready for its grand opening.’ She scooped up her keys and marched towards the back door where she’d parked the pick-up truck her father, against her mother’s wishes, had insisted she use when she left home. ‘Go get into your car. I’ll meet you out front. Follow me. Stay close or you could take a wrong turn and get lost. And be sure to close the latch on the front door when you leave – I don’t need the local kids waltzing in and helping themselves.’
Ritchie’s brows drew together in confusion. ‘Where are you taking me, Serena?’
Serena allowed a small smile to flirt about her lips. ‘You’ll see.’
CHAPTER TWO (#u3ef67dee-aa75-5523-9ca0-9a15ea980466)
‘Mum? Dad? You home?’ Serena pushed open the front door, festively decorated with a faux pine wreath, complete with red ribbons and golden bells, and barrelled in, not waiting for an answer.
Ritchie hung about the doorstep. A rare and disconcerting mix of shyness, uncertainty, and a good dollop of distress, sending little swirls of bile spinning about his stomach. Unlike most sons-in-law he’d spent little time with his wife’s parents. Little time? More like no time at all. Serena had pushed for them to meet at the beginning. She had tried to tell him the longer it took for them to meet after they’d eloped, the harder it would be for them all to get along. But he’d pushed back. He’d used his burgeoning career as not only an excuse not to visit, but also to not have them visit. To not have them remind him of all he’d missed out on. Or worse. All he had experienced.
‘What are you waiting for, Ritchie? An invitation?’ Serena turned to face him, her top knot bouncing as she shook her head. ‘You’re family, remember? That’s what you said back at the shop. So I’m bringing you home to meet them. Finally. So, come on.’ She jerked her head towards a door at the end of the hall, then strode towards it.
‘Serena?’ Her mother’s voice stopped him in his tracks. He swallowed hard, pushed away the fear that unfurled whenever he was faced with parental authority, and lengthened his strides to catch up with Serena.
‘Mum. Look who turned up at on my doorstep just now? Figured it was time you met him.’ Serena’s hand clasped his forearm. One sharp tug and he stumbled forwards into a room. The kitchen, large, with low ceilings, emitted a cosy feel. A solid looking wooden dining table took pride of place in the centre. On one side of it was the kitchen bench, stove, sink, and cupboards painted in a warm cream colour with olive trim. Opposite, a fire roared in the hearth. Burning wood glowed orange as sparks wafted up the chimney.
‘I take it this is your Ritchie?’
Ritchie tore his gaze away from the fire to the man standing at the back door, his feet encased in wellington boots. Dark green overalls sat over a navy blue woollen top. He was tall and impressive, broad-shouldered and broad-chested, and even had Serena’s chin, complete with its small cleft front and centre. Her father.
‘It’s nice to meet you, son.’ He toed off the wellingtons, grunting with the effort, then extended his hand.
Ritchie stared at it. The hands were strong to look at, with long fingers, and skin that looked like it had seen hard work. Much like the hands that had belonged to the man he’d called father.
But that’s where the similarities ended. This man had an open smile, a twinkle in his eye and exuded a warmth that came from somewhere down deep.
Good to the core.
‘Shake the man’s hand already.’ Serena nudged him with her elbow.
Ritchie did as he was told, and allowed that strong hand to clasp his. To give it a shake. Firm. Brief. Welcoming.
‘Good to meet you. Call me Roger.’ The man clapped his other hand over Ritchie’s. Embracing him in the handshake, then broke his hold.
Ritchie turned to Serena’s mother who was hunkered down in front of the oven door, staring at something cooking in it, filling the air with a savoury scent that had his mouth watering. His stomach grumbled and he remembered he hadn’t had a bite to eat in hours.
He’d been too busy pushing forward with his mission. To find his wife and win her back. And failure was not an option because without her he had no inspiration. Which meant no songs. No albums. No adoring fans. Nothing to keep his mind occupied. Nothing to shield himself against the pain of his past. No one to keep his heart warm at night.
‘Mum? Are you going to say hello? Ritchie’s come all the way from Malibu to visit us. The least you could do is acknowledge his presence.’
There was a lilting tone to Serena’s words. A jauntiness. Why? Because after all these years he was having to do the one thing he’d refused to do time and time again?
Although that didn’t explain the stiffness of Serena’s mother’s back. The grim thin line of lips, void of a smile. The absolute opposite of Serena’s father.
‘I’m keeping an eye on the bacon, Serena.’
‘Well you’ll have to introduce yourself eventually, because Ritchie’s going to be staying with you while he’s here.’
‘What?’ Serena’s mother’s head snapped round. A deep line marring the space between her eyebrows. ‘Who is staying where?’
Ritchie took an unsteady step backwards, his gut aching as if he’d been sucker punched. ‘Serena, you said you’d found a place for me to stay. You never said anything about it being with your parents. And your mum doesn’t look like she wants me here. So, let’s go back to the original plan. I’m staying with you.’
Serena rounded on him, her eyebrows raised high and triumph shining in her luminous brown eyes. ‘Ritchie, I think you’ll find that was your plan. Not mine.’
‘Can’t he stay at the pub?’ Serena’s mother stood up, apparently no longer caring about the bacon.
‘Oh, you’re finally standing like a woman who was brought up with good manners. Great.’ Serena smiled. ‘Mum, meet Ritchie. Ritchie, meet my mum, Marjorie.’
Marjorie crossed her arms across her chest. A barrier to stop any advances. No kiss on the cheek. No shake of the hand. Not a problem. He wasn’t interested in playing happy families.
‘As for the pub…’ Serena casually opened the fridge door and scanned the contents. ‘He can’t. I called Tony and he’s all booked up, and he can’t stay with me. I’m too busy with the shop to cater for his wants and needs. Also, we’re broken up. It would be unseemly.’
Boom. Another punch to the gut.
‘So you’ve brought him to us?’ Marjorie’s grip tightened around herself. ‘We don’t have time to entertain. Your father and I are busy on the farm, doing what used to be your share of the work. And I’m in the thick of organising the Rabbits Leap Farmer of the Year Awards.’
Serena didn’t even bother to hide her eye roll as she shut the fridge door, an apple in hand. ‘You? Busy with all the awards stuff?’ She snorted. ‘That’s not what I heard. Jody says Christian’s got it well in hand. Organizing catering, sorting out the judges, ensuring all the award entries are correct…’
‘Yes, well…’ Marjorie waved away the accusation. ‘Someone still has to oversee the event. It’s not like he’s done this particular kind before. Despite the success of the Big Little Festival I can’t entrust him completely with the awards. He’s already tried to get us regional coverage. He doesn’t yet understand that the last thing this town needs on Christmas Eve is to be overrun by media. And quite frankly, that also means we don’t need the likes of him here.’ She jerked her head in Ritchie’s direction. ‘Christmas in Rabbits Leap is a time of community, of everyone’s nearest and dearest coming together. Laughter, love, celebration. And a good dose of frivolity. It’s not a time for us to court the attention of outsiders. Which is why that man can’t be here.’
Ritchie bristled. ‘That man’? Really? He wasn’t just ‘that man’ – he was Ritchie Dangerfield. The world’s biggest rock star. Women worshipped him. Men admired him. He was respected by the industry.
His carefully constructed bravado threatened to fold in on itself as he noted the disdainful shrivel of Marjorie’s nose.
Damn it. He wasn’t a confused little boy. Not anymore. And there was no way he would allow the woman before him to treat him like he was nothing and no one. That time was long gone. And he’d sworn no one was dragging him down to that level ever again.
He pulled out the golden-stained oak chair, straddled it and sat down on its padded forest-green leather seat. He folded his arms loosely over the top rung and lazily tipped his head to the side. ‘Sorry, Marjorie, I’m not going anywhere. Not until Serena agrees to come back with me.’
‘Oh, really?’ Marjorie’s hands flew to her hips. Her eyes narrowed at the exact time her daughter’s did.
Ritchie’s lips twitched, threatened to smirk. He pursed them, kept them still. If he was to stay with this woman he didn’t want to further antagonise her. But he wasn’t going to have her thinking she could treat him like dirt either.
‘You think Serena’s going back to LA, with you?’ Marjorie’s laugh boomed through the kitchen, bouncing off the walls. ‘Well good luck with that, because it’s never going to happen. Serena’s made it clear she wants to stay in Rabbits Leap, even if she doesn’t want to stay here on the farm, with us.’
Ritchie caught a hint of sadness in her last words. It appeared abandonment was becoming Serena’s specialty.
‘Geez, Mum, you really need to get over my moving out. It’s been a month. Besides, you and Dad must be enjoying the freedom to be able to roam around naked, chase each other round the kitchen table, get all frisky.’ Serena waggled her brows up and down, a grin sending her cheekbones sky high.
‘Don’t be trying to make light of this Serena. We thought you’d come home for good. Come to farm for good, like we Hunter women have always done. And you were so good on the farm. Thanks to you we’ve gone free-range. You set us up with that dairy co-op who’ll pay us more for our milk. And if all goes well, soon enough we’ll be able to swap to a robotic system for milking.’
‘I do like that idea.’ Roger nodded. ‘It’ll free up time. Hopefully enough that I will be able to chase your mother naked around this here dining table.’
‘Oh, don’t be crass, Roger.’ Marjorie’s cheeks pinked up as she shot him a look of irritation, the smallest of smiles appearing on her lips.
‘Yeah, Dad. It’s okay if I say it, but not you.’ Serena mock shuddered.
Ritchie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His Serena had been a proper farmer these past months? ‘Since when do you know anything about farming?’
‘I grew up on this here dairy farm, remember?’ Serena sank into the chair opposite his and rubbed the apple clean on her neon pink jumper. ‘Also, I may have left the farm but I wasn’t completely disinterested. I’d read things about farming while you were sleeping off the night before. That’s how I figured out playing the herd old school concert music would improve production.’
‘And it made old Daisy a touch happier.’ Marjorie cut in. ‘Although not as happy as you made her, Serena. She’s reverted to glaring at me mutinously again. I think she blames me for your leaving.’
Ritchie straightened up out of his casual slouch as a spark of an idea hit. Serena wanted him to be different. She was also more annoyed than she’d let on that he’d not made an effort to meet her family. Well, he was here. There was nowhere else to stay. Roger appeared to be a good man, although Ritchie more than anyone knew looks could be deceiving. And Marjorie he was sure he could win over, given time. He was hurting. She was hurting. They at least had that foundation to build some sort of relationship on. And if he had her parents onside, perhaps together they could make Serena see sense.
She wanted a different man? She was going to get one.
‘How about I help out with the farm while I’m here? It’s the least I can do if I’m to stay here, to earn my keep. I mean, I could give you money for bills and food too.’
Marjorie flapped her hands. ‘There’s no way we’d take your money. What kind of people do you think we are?’
‘So, is that a yes, Mum?’ Serena bit into her apple. The size of the fruit not quite concealing the triumphant grin that was growing bigger by the second.
‘No. I didn’t say yes. But—’
‘But we can’t have him homeless either.’ Roger went to stand by his wife. His large hand clasping her shoulder. Not in a way that said he controlled the house. That his word was final and there would be ramifications if anyone challenged him. No, that hand was one of reassurance. He was telling his wife it would be okay. To let things unfold. ‘Serena’s right, she has to focus on her shop. And we’re going to have to house the herd soon. The weather’s about to pack in – they’re saying we could well have snow this Christmas. I think Ritchie could be of help.’
Ritchie nodded his thanks. ‘I appreciate that, Roger. I promise I’ll do everything you ask, when you ask. I won’t be a problem.’
Serena set the apple on the table, suspicion narrowing her eyes. ‘I still don’t know how you’re making this happen, Ritchie. I know you’re meant to be working on your album. And he who must be obeyed, Barry, isn’t one to let you off your leash quite that easily.’
The uncomfortable squirming returned to Ritchie’s stomach. His manager, Barry, didn’t know where he was. No one did. It was the reason he’d asked for the cone of silence. If Barry found out there were no songs, that there was no album, he’d have him locked in a studio until Ritchie squeezed out something recordable. Barry didn’t understand that without Serena beside him, he was muse-less, and music-less. Coming here on the quiet had been his only option.
