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At that he flashed a grin. “Just pretend I’m a bear in a cage out there. Throw in some meat once in a while.”
At that she laughed outright. “I think I get it.”
“I may get a little more sociable as time passes, but right now...” He trailed off and his blue eyes stared somewhere beyond the room. “Back in Nashville, getting enough downtime is impossible. So call me the recluse of Conard County.”
His gaze focused on her again. “You must have been a tot when I left twenty years ago.”
“I think I was five or six.”
“Couldn’t wait to shake the dust of this place off my heels,” he admitted. “Look at me now. Like a pig headed back for my wallow.”
She drew a breath and dared to ask, “Why?”
He tilted his head. “Some things can wear out your soul, Abby. Mine is worn to rags. I don’t even enjoy my music anymore. That’s got to change.”
“You think being here can do that?”
“It built me. Maybe it can rebuild me.” He sighed. “Guess I’m going to find out.”
He rose and refilled his mug. “No calls. I have a private line and only three people have the house number. Any other calls, just say I’m unavailable and take a message, okay?”
“I can do that.”
“I’m sure you can.” Then he hesitated. “Guess I should give you my cell number, too, just in case. If you stumble on the stairs and break a leg, it might be a long time before you see me. Do you have a cell that works out here?”
She shook her head.
“Get one next time you’re in town. And use your free time however you want. I don’t expect you to be making busy work to fill the hours, and I don’t expect you to be at my beck and call all the time.”
Finally curiosity overwhelmed caution. “What exactly do you need a full-time housekeeper for?” A dangerous question considering she needed the job.
“For all the stuff I let slide when I’m composing. That’ll be plenty.” He winked. “You get to be my buffer against the real world. I’m hoping to be spending most of my time with my Muse. She’s a demanding mistress.”
He rinsed out his mug at the sink, and put it in the brand-new dishwasher. “This is my hermitage and I’m the monk,” he said, facing her. “Just think of it that way. And right now I’m going to go take a walk and see what the wind whispers to me.”
* * *
His booted feet crunched on the desiccated grass of late summer and early autumn. A dry breeze blew steadily. Nashville was greener and more humid, and certainly warmer right now. As he strode out across fields covered with deep, dying grass and occasional tumbleweed, with nothing to block his view in most directions until his gaze ran up against the nearby mountains, he realized just how much he had missed Conard County.
It didn’t take him long to reconnect with the youth who had felt this place was parching his soul. Well, over the years he’d found other ways to parch it. Maybe worse ways.
Long summer afternoons came back to him, when he’d been done with his chores and had hiked out to a quiet place where he could rest his back against a cottonwood and make up his songs with his battered guitar. Hours spent lying on his back looking up at occasional wisps of cloud against a painfully blue sky, listening for whatever whispered to him.
Long winters, frigid cold, when escape had been impossible unless he sat out in the barn with the horses, freezing his fingers until he couldn’t feel the guitar strings anymore.
Surprisingly, he found himself actually looking forward to the winter that was right around the corner. He doubted his manager or anyone else would try to come out here then. By Christmas, maybe they’d accept that he was determined to stay here as long as he felt he needed it.
The breeze gusted a little, and he clapped his hand to his head to keep his hat from blowing away. The same hat he’d been wearing when he left here. Like some kind of talisman. He wondered if he was becoming superstitious.
Over the years, he’d realized how important it was to have creative friends. They’d spurred him on, creating a synergy that had benefitted them all. So what the hell had convinced him he needed to be all by himself again?
He couldn’t reclaim the freshness and optimism of the kid who had left here. Too much had happened over the years. Yet deep inside he felt there was something buried that couldn’t make its way out unless he provided the utter quiet and solitude it needed to be heard. Listening for voices on the wind seemed like a good enough place to start.
Cowboy boots weren’t made for walking, even well-worn ones, and finally he decided he’d better head back. To what, he still didn’t know.
The housekeeper, Abby, had sure caught his attention. He wondered when was the last time he’d seen a woman her age without a smidgen of makeup. Not that she needed any. Cute figure, too, from what he could tell under that loose work shirt she wore. A little plumper than he was used to from a town where everyone seemed to be trying to lose another ten pounds to compensate for the camera. He liked that plumpness. A man could cuddle up to those curves. He liked her long naturally brown hair, too, so carelessly caught up in a clip on the back of her head. It looked silky, begging for a touch. And her golden eyes reminded him of amber.
What he hadn’t liked was the weariness he saw in her. A sorrow that touched her golden eyes and full lips. The way her smile and her laughter didn’t come easily. Seemed as if they both needed some time to cure themselves.
He was curious about her, but stepped down on it. He hadn’t come out here to make new friends or get tangled up in anything. No, he’d come to find his own footing and get his own head and heart sorted out.
Sometimes he felt as if he was dancing all the time to some insane piper. He needed a breather, some downtime, an escape from a pace that never really flagged. Oh, he could get some time by himself, but never enough of it. There was always something he needed to do, friends who wanted to get together...in short a full life. Too full. With one great big gaping hole in it, dug by his ex-wife Stella and her winning custody of their daughter, Regina.
He guessed he had some holes to patch, too. Being shed of Stella was a relief. He just wished the courts hadn’t sided with her when she insisted a young girl needed her mother, not her father. He hadn’t expected that, and regret still dogged him. That was killing him.
So maybe Brian, his manager, was right when he said Rory was running away. But running away had served him once before, and it might again. If it didn’t, he could head back to Nashville in a few months and pick up the rat race again.
But the hollowness had been filling him for a while, and going through the motions wasn’t the kind of life he wanted. He needed to find his music again, the music that had given him meaning and purpose. If he didn’t, then he was nothing but a sham any longer.
He paused, listening to the wind. It had a music of its own, and once it had filled him with creative impulses. But after a few minutes, he gave up. He heard nothing in its sigh, not yet. Maybe he’d lost the ears to hear.
* * *
Abby watched his return, and wondered what to do. She’d made a lasagna that morning, figuring she could heat it whenever he was ready to eat, but Rory McLane had told her he’d eat whenever he felt like it. So what was she supposed to do?
He’d basically left her free to do as she liked, but maybe he didn’t realize how difficult that might be for her. She was acutely aware that she was being paid generously, and felt as if she ought to be earning that check. Part of her job was feeding the man. A man who apparently didn’t want to be fed, at least not on any kind of routine.
Awkward, that’s what it was. Finally, deciding that she needed her supper even if he didn’t, she popped the lasagna in the oven. She was going to take a small portion for herself, then section it up into individual servings either one of them could heat easily. It was the only way she could think to handle it.
She knew she had to try this his way, but she wondered if sooner or later they were going to need to have a more detailed talk about her role. Winging it might work for him, but already she had a million questions about how to best handle things for him.
She heard him come through the front door, and managed to put a note of cheer in her voice. “I just put a lasagna in the oven. Ready in about an hour if you decide you want to eat.”
She heard his steps stop in the hallway and tensed, wondering if he’d remind her yet again that he didn’t want to be bothered with anything.
Then she heard his approach. He stopped in the kitchen doorway. Easy to see how this man had become a heartthrob for millions. Her heart accelerated of its own accord, and she felt the first stirring of long-absent desire. Not good.
“Lasagna?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Sounds good. I may...”
She heard a phone beep and he fell silent as he pulled a cell from his pocket. “Stella,” he said with distaste. “Sorry. Give me a minute.”
He walked out, leaving her alone in the kitchen again. For a guy who didn’t want to be bothered, he was being bothered rather soon. She seemed to recall from her brief research on him that Stella was his ex. She still called him? Her own ex, Porter, hadn’t spared a word for her since the divorce.
Fifteen minutes passed. She considered bringing out the salad she had prepared earlier, then decided it was too soon. Should she set places for both of them in here? Or maybe he’d want to eat alone in his fancy dining room.
Dang, there seemed to be more questions than answers with this job. He made it sound so easy, but as she was rapidly discovering a lack of guidance was anything but easy.
At long last she heard the unmistakable steps of his boots.
“Well,” he said, “your job just got more complicated.”
She whirled to look at him. “Yes?”
“That was my ex. I’ll be leaving tomorrow to go pick up my daughter. It seems she’s too much for Stella.”
Abby could barely keep herself from gaping. “Too much?”
“Running off nannies constantly. Stella’s too busy to deal with it.” Rory astonished her with a big smile. “Hot damn,” he said. “I’m getting my daughter! And not just for Christmas.”
Abby felt her heart sink and the early stirrings of panic even as she appreciated the joy reflected in his smile. And what a smile it was, nearly depriving her of breath. The guy was clearly thrilled about seeing his daughter. That should have touched her.
Instead, the gnawing worry about how to handle this inchoate job burst out of her before she knew the words were coming. “I wasn’t hired to be a babysitter.”
His smile faded a bit. “I’m not asking you to. Regina’s ten. I’m her father. Let me do my job and you do yours.” Then he turned and left. Moments later she heard him head out the back door.
She hurried back to her suite and saw him walking toward the barn.
“Idiot,” she said aloud to herself. What had possessed her to say that when the man was so clearly thrilled? What kind of selfish shrew was she becoming?
But a girl who was driving away her nannies?
All of a sudden this job seemed more complicated that she could have begun to imagine.
Chapter Two (#ulink_e87ec5b0-2e57-5733-b330-e380f8194684)
Abby didn’t see Rory again before he left the following morning. She tried to tell herself he was just being the hermit he had warned her he was going to be, but guilt rode her hard anyway. This was his house, and she’d had the nerve to let him know that she wasn’t thrilled about the arrival of his daughter.
She’d be lucky if he didn’t fire her when he got back. But the truth was, she hadn’t been hired to be a babysitter, she knew next to nothing about kids and a troubled one would be more than she could adequately handle. Maybe she should have waited to bring it up, but concern had pushed the words out of her mouth at the worst possible time.
She wanted to bang her head on something. Porter’s cheating and desertion weren’t that far in the past, and she often felt she was turning into a person she didn’t know and one she didn’t especially like. Bitterness rose often, anger even more often, and resentment was one big mountain inside her.
Maybe worst of all was feeling like an utter failure. She hadn’t been woman enough to keep a husband for two whole years. That meant there was something wrong with her. Right?
Fear, betrayal, failure—they’d become her constant companions. Now she had proved how they were twisting her by reacting to her boss’s joy about his daughter with the most selfish response she could have voiced.
Maybe this wasn’t a new version of her. Maybe this was what she had been all along without realizing it. If she’d been treating Porter the way she had treated Rory, why wouldn’t he leave her?
Everything inside her felt so miserably mixed up she couldn’t figure out up and down anymore. That certainly made her incapable of looking after a child, but she could have been more diplomatic.
Frustrated with herself, she cleaned the whole house again. There were four elaborate guest rooms upstairs, each with its own color theme, but no way to figure out which one Regina might get. Nothing she could do about that.
She peeked into the master suite, a bright sunny room decorated in blues and browns that indelibly stamped it as masculine. She dusted it thoroughly, cleaned the bathroom until it shone, changed the sheets, then left the sanctuary otherwise untouched.
She drove into town to the library to get some books to read, then found herself unable to concentrate on them. She’d done something stupid, and she wasn’t going to know the outcome until Rory returned. If she had a chance, she ought to apologize. Not for refusing to be a babysitter. She knew she wasn’t adequate for that. But for the way she had said it. For her timing.
Except the truth stared her in the face. She hadn’t been hired to care for a child, and if that had been mentioned before she accepted the position, she might have looked for something else. As if jobs grew on trees.
She groaned, being honest with herself. Working at the truck stop hadn’t been quite enough to meet her bills, and soon she would have had no place to go. This job was an unexpected godsend.
She didn’t have anything against kids. It was just that she didn’t feel adequate to taking care of one, beyond maybe cooking and cleaning. She’d never had a younger sister or brother to practice on. She’d never babysat anybody, because she’d always had a job after school. Inadequate, that was what she was, but why should that surprise her?
On the other hand, she knew perfectly well she couldn’t find another job that paid as well as this one. A generous salary with room and board included. If she could hang on for a year, she’d be able to save enough to resume her college education.
But instead of thinking of that, she’d had an utterly selfish and ugly reaction to a man’s joy. Job or no job, she needed to straighten that out as soon as he came back.
Two days later the hour of her reckoning arrived. Rory called, saying they were at the airport but were going to stop at the grocery. Did she need anything?
A polite, courteous call, utterly unnecessary. She didn’t know how to judge this man at all. “I’m fine. Just whatever you and Regina need.”
“Okay. I hope you don’t have a problem with dogs.”
“Dogs?”
“Regina brought her Great Dane with her. Thank goodness he’s a good flier is all I have to say.”
“A Great Dane?” She almost squeaked.
“Yup. I figure I need to buy all the dog food at the feed store before we come back.” Then he surprised her with a laugh. “Don’t panic, he’s a gentle giant.”
A dog and a kid. After hanging up the phone, Abby sat at the table. A huge dog and a troublesome kid. Oh, this could get interesting.
A couple of hours later, she found out. The truck pulled up and almost instantly a coltish girl with her father’s dark hair and blue eyes bounded out of the passenger side, and right after came a dog that was bigger than she was. A Harlequin Great Dane, Abby guessed, given that he was white with black spots. Beautiful.
Big.
Regina went tearing off over the open landscape, the dog racing along with her. Rory stood watching for a minute, then went to the back of the truck and began unloading.
Abby decided there’d never be a better time to apologize to him, so she hurried out. “Can I help?” she asked.
“Groceries, if you don’t mind. Apparently certain foods are necessary to the survival of ten-year-olds. As for the dog food, unless you want to heft forty-pound sacks, leave that to me. I guess I can keep them out in the barn.”
“Didn’t she bring anything for herself?”
“A duffel. The rest will be shipped.”
She reached for some of the cloth grocery bags, then said quickly, “I’m sorry for how I reacted when you told me Regina was coming. I know you must be thrilled.”
He paused as he reached for a sack of kibble. “It’s okay, Abby. You weren’t hired to be a nanny, and frankly from what I’ve been hearing, that’s not what she needs. I think those nannies got run off because Stella was ignoring her. For a kid, any attention is better than none.”
Abby, too, paused and dared to look at him. His blue eyes seemed quiet, like deep pools. “That’s sad,” she said finally.
“I agree. Anyway, she needs me.”
“Considering you came here to be a hermit, your life could get difficult.”
