Risky Replay (Country Stars Forever #1)

Chapter 13

Thirteen

DEREK

James is the last kid at the tee when my father, wearing his deputy uniform, pushes his way through the stands to find a seat next to me. He grunts a terse greeting at Emily who sits on my other side. She’s warmer with her response. He can’t fucking just be nice.

James swings and misses. The game is almost over as James takes another swing and the ball stays on the tee. The kids in the outfield sit down to pick at dirt or grass.

“He’s number six,” I say to my dad as I keep my focus on my son.

“He needs better coaching,” my father grunts.

I don’t answer because James is mid-swing and fuck, he misses again. The coach sends him to run around the bases anyway, and I cheer like the kid hit his first grand slam at Petco Park.

“A minute later and you would have missed it all.” I can’t keep the annoyance out of my voice.

“You know shifts are unpredictable,” my father says. “I’m here now.”

I get up to get James and before I get too far, I point at my father. “Be nice. ”

As I reach the side gate where the kids trickle out, I glance at the stands, and my father and Emily aren’t talking, only watching me. Well, that’s better than him trying to run her off.

“I want you to meet someone,” I say to James as I walk him to the stands.

James stares up at my dad, not as tall as me, but close, and his small jaw drops open. “Wow, are you the Sheriff?”

A rare smile blooms on my dad’s face. “I’m Deputy Anderson,” he says, his voice remaining unemotional. “I heard about you from my son.”

Truth is, after he missed the pool party, I wasn’t going to bother inviting him to anything again. But I want James to get to know his family.

James crinkles his nose. “Who’s your son?”

I clear my throat. “This is my dad.”

My father squats and extends a hand to James. “Pleased to meet you, James.” James shakes his hand, and it’s a reminder of what an exceptional mother Emily is, when he already knows what to do.

“Is that your car?” James asks, pointing at the black and white SUV.

“It is. Maybe your mom and dad are okay with me giving you a ride one day.” There’s a gruffness and an emphasis on ‘dad’ like he’s trying to cause a problem.

James grips my hand a little tighter.

“My dad died last year. He’s in heaven now.” He turns to Emily. “Can I mom?”

My father stands, and he cuts his eyes over to Emily. “I’m sorry to hear. Looks like your mother is okay with you going for a ride one day.”

Emily’s feet move, and she hooks a hand on her hip. She glances down at James whose smile is bigger than I’ve ever seen it, and she relaxes.

“We’ll see,” is all she says. She surprises me when she turns to my dad and says, “We’re going to get pizza. We’d love it if you could join us.”

He frowns, checks his watch, and the bubble inside me bursts.

“I can meet you there.”

Emily’s eyes widen.

“Yes,” I say in disbelief.

My father smiles at me. “See you soon, son.”

Once he’s out of earshot and James is buckled into the backseat of her car, I turn to Emily and say, “It can’t be this easy.”

“That’s the power James has.” She pats my shoulder and gets into the car.

It being a Saturday, kids flood the pizza place. They jam through the doorway with exhausted parents chasing them. Inside, they run from one play area to another. One kid spills a giant cup of red liquid all over their shirt and sucks the juice out of the material. Another steals pizza crust from empty tables and eats them at a speed that has me recalling CPR training from my many odd jobs before making it as a musician.

Victoria finds me by running into my leg and hugging it with all four of her limbs koala style and screams my name. The weight of her pummeling into me throws off my balance. I bend down, and she eases into my arms. She points to where Emily sits, but James is missing. She leads me to a block-building game, and I play with her. When it topples over for the fifth time, I convince her to help me search for James. We find him and my father playing air hockey. James concentrates on trying to best my dad.

I catch Emily watching them, too. My chest tightens. Will she stay? Years of touring and constant travel have made San Diego feel less like home. If anything comes close, it’s Nashville.

My skin feels too tight at the thought of moving to Maryland. I’d do it if Emily refuses to consider Tennessee. Maybe that’s what she feels when thinking of moving to another state or staying in San Diego. We won’t find a middle ground, will we? I have to find a way for James and me to spend time together like true father and son. But what about Victoria? I have a right to James. Not her.

I’m fucked either way .

When we sit and devour cheap pizza, Emily mouths at me from across the table, “What’s wrong?”

Tempted to demand she give me all her contact information, her grandparents, her brother, her address in Maryland, and anyone that has seen her in the last year and could locate her, I shake my head. As much as I need answers, this isn’t the place for this conversation.

“Dinner. You and me,” I blurt out. “Tomorrow.”

She blinks. Opens her mouth. Blinks again. “I’m working.”

That’s not a no.

“You work nights?” My father’s tone is all disapproval. “Who watches them?”

Emily crosses her arms over her waist, sinking into her seat. “My grandparents.”

“I can watch them,” my father says, and James and Victoria both perk up.

I rear back. So does Emily.

He grins like he knows we think he’s lost his mind.

“They would need to know you better.” Emily gives the kids a reassuring smile.

“He’s a sheriff,” James points out with excitement.

“Dino nuggets.” Victoria crosses her arms, making her a mini version of a determined Emily.

“Whatever you want.” My father grins at Victoria. Like magic, she turns his insides to goo.

Conversation flows much smoother as we finish the pizza, and too soon, Emily announces it’s time for them to head home.

“She’s done a good job,” my father says in his gruff voice once Emily drives away in that death trap she calls a car.

“Did you doubt it?”

His eyes narrow in my direction, and he doesn’t answer. His stare makes my skin crawl like I’m guilty of something—a look he’s perfected over the years. As a kid, I loathed how it unnerved me.

My father straightens, and fuck, the move makes him seem larger, more powerful. “Sometimes you can’t outrun your genes,” he says, his eyes never leaving my face.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re saying Jesi and I are going to run off like the woman who birthed us did?”

He stares at me like I should have the answer. “Neither of you call this city home.”

“You know we had to.” Neither of us could stay. Jesi had to go to college, and I left for Music City.

“Like your mother ‘had to’.”

I can’t see the difference between my mother and Emily’s father. They both shirked on their responsibilities. My mother is worse. She lied to us, claiming she wanted a family, too. After my dad had Tyler placed with us, she decided to disappear. She outright lied.

There’s no winning any argument with my father or changing his opinion about Emily. Once he learned how Emily and her brother ended up being raised by their grandparents, he’s carried a ton of mistrust for her. Instead of seeing them as innocent victims of bad circumstances, children of an irresponsible mother who wrapped her car around a tree, and a father who, after six months of trying to raise an eight-year-old and a two-year-old on his own, dropped them off at his in-laws, never to be heard from again.

“You’re not listening to me, son. I told you she’s a good mother. But Emily has always been running from something, and you have to protect yourself. You’re a good businessman. What would you do if James was an investment without collateral?”

I think I’m getting a headache from this conversation. “Say it.”

“You’re spending time with him. With them.” He looks over to where Emily’s car left the parking lot. “It’s an investment, and what will be your return? He needs to get to know his family. He needs to know you. Make certain this isn't merely a summer fling for her.”

“She wouldn’t disappear, again,” I croak out because he’s right. I’m invested. I would lose everything because of Emily’s ability to vanish.

Throughout the next day, Emily doesn’t answer my calls or texts. Amanda and I work late with the designer, selecting linens and utensils. Every item has a hundred options, and I couldn’t look at one more. Blue is blue is blue. What’s this cerulean or corn flower or steel? It’s blue. And what’s with the textured material? And the utensils had to be selected on material, design, weight, size. Why?

By the time we’re done, it’s dark outside, and I’m convinced Emily has left town. She said she was working tonight. And lucky for me, I know where Mark works. Which makes it easier for me to find her.

When the ride share drops me off, there’s a thick line to get into the trendy Mexican bar. This is my biggest competition, and stealing Mark from them is a win thanks to Amanda. Their square footage is less than that of Santos , they have a dedicated bar area, and a small sit-down area. There’s a small stage along the back wall where a two-person band plays an older La Ley song. I know them because, in our teenage years, Emily and Charlie would make us listen to Spanish Rock. We learned a few songs for fun.

I push my way through the dense crowd. A drink sloshes over me, and I hear a ‘ watch it, cabrón .’

The first opening at the bar is a single stool on Mark’s side. Emily works on the opposite end and hasn’t noticed me.

“Hey,” Mark says from across the counter as he pours two purple drinks for the women next to me, “you checking out the competition? Or rethinking our agreement?” He moves to the register to cash them out.

Emily’s back is to me, and I lean forward enough to check what she’s wearing. Fuck. She’s in a black ribbed tank and shorts. Real short. Real tight. And I’m not the only one staring .

Mark moves to stand in front of me blocking Emily from my view. He looks over his shoulder in Emily’s direction. I raise my ass off the seat to watch her taking orders without noticing us. New faces replace the people Mark served earlier. His slight frown shifts to a smirk. “She’s as single as the other night.”

“I’m here to make sure you’re consistent,” I say, and Mark laughs. “Give me one of those purple drinks.”

He arches a brow and gets to making the purple concoction.

The band ends the song. The long black-haired singer, with a Martin D-28 on his lap and a laptop hooked up to an amp, claims he needs help with the next song and if anyone knows of a girl who can sing. There’s a murmur before everyone chants, “Rosie, Rosie, Rosie.”

Mark sets the purple concoction in front of me. “You want to learn how to be a real star? Watch Rosie.” He leaves and asks another customer for their order. The crowd parts for someone moving to the stage. I catch a glimpse, and fuck, I turn my back, hiding from Emily as she walks toward the band.

Rosie?

The crowd cheers and whoops when Emily hops onto the stage. She wipes her hands on the back of her shorts and grips the microphone.

“Y’all can’t get enough.” She teases the crowd. They cheer.

The guitarist starts the song, and it’s one of Emily’s favorites, a danceable Selena song. Emily makes the hit her own. She shifts her hips with the beat, dancing in place on the small stage. Her voice never misses the pitch, and she controls every note. The crowd dances with her.

When it’s over, they transition into a slower song, a classic ranchera, Si Nos Dejan . The song, much like the one we sang at Saddles, is about lovers running away to live out their love story up in the clouds. Her voice drips like warm honey over the microphone and through the sound system, coating the audience and me with her nectar.

I rest an elbow on the bar and press my fist to my lips.

My throat is dry, but I don’t touch the drink Mark made. I don’t want to miss a second of this.

When she sings about being closer to God, she skims over the crowd and stops on me. Unlike at Saddles, she doesn’t falter. Her voice is stronger, more confident as she sings the last stanza, and my body heats as I’m hooked in her soul-reaching stare.

“Una más?” she asks the crowd. Their agreement is boisterous, and she bends down to whisper something in the guitarist’s ear, then looks at me. She doesn’t introduce the song. As soon as the guitarist hits the first chords backed up by the laptop next to him, everyone yells their approval. They hang their arms around each other's shoulders and sing louder than she does. She chose the song staring at me. Luz de Día by Los Enanitos Verdes is about exes running into each other and indulging in one more passionate night without considering the consequences.

I down the fucking purple drink without tasting it.

Emily turns her body away from me, but her gaze intermittently slides my way.

Blood rushes south. I bite my knuckles.

Emiliana Armada is flighty. Untrustworthy. Everything I should not want in a woman.

I stand. A thirsty couple takes my place in front of the bar. I should leave before she finishes the song. What was I thinking coming here?

My body can’t reason. It doesn’t understand the consequences of its potent desire for her.

I turn around to leave. When she sings about getting lost in the other’s touch and screaming each other’s names, I move toward the stage. Emily briefly widens her eyes and smiles through the last line of the chorus. There’s a murmur of disapproval from the crowd when I hop up next to her. There’s no space for me and my side presses against hers. Her scent of berries is mixed in with hops and alcohol.

“Gonna sing with me?” She speaks into the microphone, her voice sultry and tempting and not caring about what anyone thinks.

No time to answer, we sing the next verse into the same microphone. As we sing the song she taught us those early days when we wanted to play music together, everyone fades away and it’s us, like it was before. The Spanish lyrics flow out of me like long lost, Emily-filled memories.