Chapter 3
three
Archer
A little progress is better than none, I tell myself as I close the door to my rooms. The song sparked by the landscape slipped back into the recesses of my mind so other than transcribing the few notes from my tablet to the manuscript paper, I’ve got nothing. Thankful to leave the barely realized music behind, I stroll down the well-kept gravel road toward the two main houses. One is what would be considered a typical farmhouse. Two stories, wide front porch, white with colored trim. The other is a masterpiece of mid-century 1950’s architecture. Browns and greens, vertical wood paneling and stone with huge floor to ceiling windows. Vastly different yet somehow the buildings go together. The hint of a new melody tickles the back of my brain.
I repeat the musical line a few times to cement it in my head as I head to the back door of the mid-century home as instructed. Alice opens the door before I knock and welcomes me into her home. After explaining her kids had gone into town with their uncle, she introduces me to her husband, David. Able to be Archer for a while, I relax and accept a glass of wine.
“I apologize again for not remembering to tell you about how we’re going to provide your meals.”
“Not entirely your fault, Alice,” I say. “I didn’t think about it either. At least not until my stomach growled. Great selection in the snack basket, though.”
We’re in the library, a large alcove off the main living area that’s lined with shelves filled with an impressive collection of books. There were books in my guesthouse, too. I appreciate books and the people who love them.
Alice lowers herself onto a chair and absently rubs her belly. David reaches over and rests his hand on hers and they share a smile. I feel like I'm intruding and angle to look out a window while sipping my wine.
From the corner of my eye I watch Alice pat her husband’s hand then lean forward. “Here’s what we’ve got planned. Let me know any changes you’d like to make.”
Returning my focus to them, I nod. “Okay.”
“One of the ranch wives loves to cook and bake. We’ve arranged for her to provide meals for you.” She lifts one hand and waves away the objection I was about to make. “She always has extra, so it’s no big deal. I know you want to keep contact to a minimum, at least at first, so I’ll ask her to put the food in the winery kitchen. We’re hoping once we’re fully up and running next year to have a small, café style restaurant available for guests and visitors to the winery. Right now the kitchen is only being used if there’s an event scheduled.”
“I’m perfectly able to cook for myself.”
“If you want to do that then I’ll have Georgia provide a certain number of meals each week that you can reheat and eat whenever. I’ll ask Bailey to stock the kitchen and run into town whenever you need something. I was going to ask her to fill in any meals Georgia isn’t able to provide.”
“Who’s Bailey?”
“Sorry. She’s our vintner. And for the time being she’s also in charge of the kitchen. I invited her over tonight to finalize the plan. Asked her to arrive a little after you so I could warn you. She doesn’t know who you really are. I’ll introduce you as Marcus and you can tell her differently if and when you choose to. We have complete trust in her, so either way your secret will be respected and safe.”
“Sounds good.” If I work it right, I should be able to avoid this Bailey person by cooking my meals at odd times. Rock stars are notoriously eccentric. Lunch at four and supper at eleven. I’ve kept strange hours before when covering for my brother.
“Great. You might even be able to start a list tonight so she can shop tomorrow. Are there any dietary restrictions or dislikes I need to pass on to Georgia?”
“Nothing except I don’t care for squash or sweet potatoes. But really, she doesn’t need to go to any trouble.”
Alice shoots me a wide grin. “I have no doubt you’ll change your mind once you sample Georgia’s cooking. And I’m hoping this will give Bailey a new focus. She hasn’t gotten the results she’s hoping for yet. I think she needs a little distraction. Coordinating meals for a…” She clears her throat. “…huge rock star should offer that distraction. Get her out of her brew room. At least for a little while.”
Bracing her hands against the chair arms, Alice slowly stands. “She’s on the way. We’re eating casual tonight so come on back to the kitchen when you’re ready.”
David seems in no hurry so I mimic his relaxed pose and take another sip of the delicious wine. “Yours?”
“Unfortunately, no. It is from a local Nebraska winery, though. It’ll take a while before our vines produce enough to bottle for sale. It’s not a quick process. We’ve arranged to buy grapes from other growers this year—so Bailey has something to work with. Right now she’s turned her talents to creating an interesting mead.”
That piques my interest. “I’ve enjoyed a few meads in the past. Maybe I can volunteer as a tester.”
He shrugs. “Good luck getting her to let you into her private sanctum or to even just talk about her work. She got burned by a former employer so she keeps her work to herself.”
“I’d never pry into professional secrets.”
“At the risk of exposing your own?” he asks with a chuckle.
I salute him with my goblet.
“Guys, come on back to the kitchen,” Alice calls.
David stands. “We have been summoned. Good luck… Marcus Kane.”
“Thanks,” I mumble when I pass him, privately grateful for the reminder it’s time to act the part.
In the kitchen Alice is directing the removal of a baked pasta dish from the oven. I catch only a glimpse of the woman who must be Bailey before she’s hidden by a large refrigerator. Following David’s lead, I accept a basket of savory garlic bread from Alice to carry to the table.
Four places are set at one end of a large oval table. The casserole takes a place of honor on a thick iron trivet. While our hosts set their dishes on the table, I stand frozen at the sight of the woman waiting with her hands resting on the back of her chair.
A song bursts from my soul, filling my brain with complete harmonies, trilling descants, the sensual throb of vibrating bass strings.
My god. She’s?—.
Alice takes the bread from my unresisting fingers and using her shoulder, shoves me toward the table. “Bailey, I’d like you to meet Marcus Kane. Marcus, this is Bailey Pierce, our vintner.”
Her eyes are wide and she looks like a frightened doe. Then her brows draw together and she studies me for a long moment. “Hi,” she finally says. “Nice to meet you Mr. Kane.”
“Marcus, please. Or just Mars.” I watch her mouth Marcus Kane as though attempting to figure out why it sounds familiar. What are the chances she doesn’t know the great Mars Kane?
Giving a single nod, her face clears and she gives me an attempt at a smile.
My lips begin to form her name then I catch how Alice’s interested gaze is taking in everything. Before the silence draws out for too long, she indicates the table. “Let’s eat while it’s hot.”
I sit directly across from Bailey which thankfully makes it easy to watch her without looking like I’m staring. Her length of red-gold hair is pulled back in a messy bun, leaving a few strands dancing around her face. Her full lips hold my attention until a deep pink tints her cheeks and I understand she realizes how I’m studying her.
Hopefully she hasn’t also noticed how often my eyes have fallen to the swell of her breasts and the hint of deep cleavage exposed by the two undone buttons on her shirt.
Hell. I’m about to come undone at the tempting sight. I shift in my chair but nothing eases the tight throb behind the zipper of Mars’ stupid jeans. The head of my dick is threatening to burst out of the waistband. Maybe this is why his fans love the look so much. As casually as I can, I pull my shirt from my jeans and tug the minimal extra length down to cover any possible impropriety.
Conversation during the meal is kept casual and on basic, non-personal topics. I get my body and my thoughts under control. Until she rises to help David clear the table. Her wide hips and thick thighs make my mouth water. The enticing dip of her waist gives her a perfect hourglass figure. One I’m going to enjoy taking my time exploring.
The music in my head crashes in a crescendo that settles want and need, hot and heavy in my dick. She is my music. The source of my music from this moment until we run out of forever. Until forever ends.
What the fuck? Those are great words for a Mars Kane ballad. But they can’t be real. Not for me. And certainly not for forever. That kind of relationship won’t happen for me. As I have all my life, I’ll remain in the shadows of Mars’ greatness. There is no time, energy, or room for me.
“Shall we go back to the library for our discussion?” Alice asks.
I’ll expose more than is decent if I stand up now. I shake my head and lean back in my chair. “I’m comfortable here, if that’s okay.”
“Works for me,” Bailey says in agreement then gives me a serious once over.
Does she suspect what’s happening in my jeans? A stunning woman like her probably has a wealth of admirers. Lovers. Anger increases my heartbeat at the thought of another man touching her. I’m not sure how I’m able to stop the rumble in my chest from escaping.
Alice sets a plate of what looks like cream filled cupcake tops on the table then slaps her husband’s hand when he reaches for one. “Guests first.”
Three pairs of eyes turn to me. “Uh, what are these?”
Bailey’s mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ before she asks, “You’ve never had a whoopie pie?”
Alice pokes the edge of the plate to scoot it closer to me. “You are in for a treat, Mars. These are a specialty of our local bakery. Go ahead. Try one.”
Choosing one that’s obviously chocolate, I take a careful bite. The tender cake and smooth, sweetened cream fill my mouth and this time I don’t hold back my moan.”
Alice laughs. “See, Bailey? What did I tell you? Darvis’ whoopie pies get that reaction from everyone.”
Reaching for her own, Bailey concedes the point. “You win. Just like you knew you would.”
“And that’s why she sent me into town earlier. Just to show off how smart she is,” David adds.
I down a second treat, this one vanilla cake with a banana cream studded with bits of fresh strawberries. “Where have these been all my life?”
Once the plate is cleared, Alice lays out my meal plan. Wariness fills Bailey’s expression and I attempt to reassure her. “I won’t get in your way. Just let me know when you need the space and I’ll stay away.”
The doubt remains but she shrugs and stands. “Do you have time to work on a grocery list tonight?”
Nodding, I rise as well. After Alice sends us on our way—I have a container with another two whoopie pies to take with me—Bailey and I step out into the clear, early evening air.
“Let’s get this over with. Follow me,” she says.
Until forever ends.