Chapter 18
That night at the wrap party, Nina sat with Sierra and Poppy as models, assistant photographers, clothing and makeup artists, and brand reps enjoyed relaxing after a long, hot day of hard work. Markus made the rounds, completely in his element being the centre of attention.
On stage, a different band than the one that had played earlier that week, sang ‘Something in the Orange’ by Zach Bryan. Nina hummed along as she sipped Maverick’s beer, which he’d given her when he’d gone to fetch her another margarita from the bar.
As the band wrapped up the song, Nina joined the applause.
‘Thank you. Thank you.’ But the lead singer didn’t immediately start into the next song. She said, ‘We have a special treat for you tonight.’
People stopped what they were doing to look towards the stage.
‘For those of you who don’t know Maverick, he’s one of the owners here at Hunt Ranch.
’ Behind her, the musicians started playing quietly.
‘He’s gonna be singing a song for you tonight.
And, trust me, this is a rare occasion.’ She ducked under her guitar strap and held out her instrument. ‘Put your hands together, folks.’
People clapped wildly.
Markus howled like a wolf.
As Mav walked onto the stage and took the guitar, Poppy, who had been sitting by Sierra, chatting away about her day, came to Nina. She climbed up onto Nina’s lap without pause, said, ‘My dad sings good.’
‘I bet,’ Nina managed, but she couldn’t tear her eyes off the stage, where Mav was settling in, strumming the guitar as naturally as if he played for a living.
God, he was sexy, dressed in blue jeans and a black Hunt Ranch shirt, his ball cap on backwards.
‘I promised a special woman that I’d sing for her sometime, and, well, this song is one of my favourites,’ he said into the mic. ‘I’m a little rusty, so you’ll have to forgive any mistakes.’
People laughed.
Maverick looked right at Nina, winked. ‘This is “Run” by George Strait.’
Nina wasn’t familiar with the song, but it was obviously popular. She looked around as people whooped and clapped, but the moment Mav started singing, they settled down to listen, almost as if they were as afraid as she was that they might miss a moment of it.
‘If there’s a plane or a bus leaving LA
I hope you’re on it
If there’s a train moving fast down the tracks
I hope you caught it—’
His voice was deep and smooth. Nina almost couldn’t believe how good he was. And even then, she wouldn’t have cared if he’d been terrible because he was looking at her, singing to her. And the lyrics brought tears to her eyes.
‘’Cause I swear out there ain’t where you ought to be
So, catch a ride, catch a cab
Don’t you know I miss you bad
But don’t you walk to me
Baby, run, cut a path across the blue skies
Straight in a straight line
You can’t get here fast enough
Find a truck and fire it up
Lean on the gas and off the clutch
Leave LA in the dust
I need you in a rush
So, baby, run
If you ain’t got a suitcase
Get a box or an old brown paper sack
And pack it light or pack it heavy
Take a truck, take a Chevy
Baby, just come back’
Her throat started closing. Her eyes burned. And Poppy, seeing her tears, reached up to gently touch her face. ‘Why are you sad?’ she asked, her own big eyes starting to tear up.
‘I’m not sad,’ Nina insisted, and hugged the little girl to her. ‘I’m happy.’
Overhearing their conversation, Sierra turned serious eyes on Nina. ‘You should listen to the original sometime. Even Mav can’t hold a candle to George Strait.’
Nina doubted that. But she didn’t reply. She was too busy listening to the song, holding on to every word.
‘There’s a shortcut to the highway out of town
Why don’t you take it?
Don’t let that speed limit slow you down
Go on and break it
Baby, run, cut a path across the blue skies
Straight in a straight line
You can’t get here fast enough
Find a truck and fire it up
Lean on the gas and off the clutch
Leave LA in the dust
I need you in a rush
So, baby, run
Baby, run
Oh baby, run
Baby, run’
People started cheering the moment he finished the song.
‘Thank you.’
From the back of the crowd, Markus shouted, ‘Encore!’ and had people applauding in agreement.
Maverick passed the guitar back to the lead singer. ‘One’s all I’ve got in me, folks. I’m gonna let Jessie take it from here.’
The lead singer took the mic again. ‘What’d I tell you?’ she shouted.
People hooted and whistled.
Before she started her next song, Jessie laughed into the mic. ‘I hope you enjoyed it. He’s only ever sung for us once and I had to get him blackout drunk first.’
She started strumming her guitar. ‘This is “Feathered Indians”.’
As the music filled the night, Maverick ambled back to where they sat, Nina and Sierra’s drinks now in his hands. He passed them each one and then sat down by Nina.
Poppy immediately slipped from Nina’s lap onto his. ‘You sing so good, Daddy,’ she praised him.
He kissed the top of Poppy’s head. ‘Thanks, baby.’
Nina couldn’t look at him. She knew that everything she was feeling was too close to the surface just then. While the song had roused her nerves, his proximity had every one of them firing overtime. The immensity of it all was astounding.
Nina knew that roots grew when they were watered, and that family didn’t have to be connected by blood. Family could be made. Luigi and Markus had taught her that. But what she felt for Maverick was different. It was more. Everything.
Shannon stood with a group of colleagues barely out of high school, one ear tuned to their conversation, most of which she barely understood. But her eyes were glued on the tight circle the Hunts made, their chairs turned together, keeping everyone else at a little distance.
Maverick and Nina Keller might not have advertised the fact that they were together.
They weren’t all over each other. But their attraction was obvious.
And the kiss during the photoshoot … Shannon didn’t care how good of an actress Nina Keller was, that kiss had been one-hundred-per-cent spontaneous. And real.
Shannon, who had always used jealousy to hone what she wanted for her own life, didn’t feel that green-eyed regret when she looked at Maverick and Nina together now.
She had known Maverick had never loved her.
Oh, he’d tried to convince himself he did when she’d fallen pregnant, but his willingness to step in and take responsibility had only made her feel trapped.
It hadn’t mattered that he was a good man, one of the best. A woman could still feel trapped by a good man.
She’d told him she was pregnant three days before her scheduled termination because, despite what people thought about her, she was a fair woman and he’d deserved to know.
And the look on his face … The complete joy …
It had terrified her because it had only taken one look at Mav’s face to know that she couldn’t hurt him by going through with it.
Maverick had told her he’d support her no matter what, but she’d told Markus the truth when she’d said she’d felt pressured. Because he’d wanted that baby so goddamn much.
So, she’d chickened out. And although she’d managed to contract a few maternity shoots during her pregnancy, for the most part, she’d been alone at the ranch house from four-thirty in the morning until six in the evening.
She didn’t like horses or getting dirty – and neither did her skin.
And because she’d seen how hard Maverick worked for everything, she had felt like she couldn’t say anything, couldn’t complain when he’d finally come home, stressed and exhausted.
As her belly had grown, she’d felt the baby sucking the life out of her.
And every time someone’s eyes had lit up and they’d said those things people say to pregnant woman, things like: ‘You must be so excited,’ ‘Boy or girl?’ ‘When are you due?’ ‘Do you have any names yet?’ all Shannon had felt was shame.
Because all she wanted was to get the baby out so that she could start getting her life back on track.
And then Poppy had been born, and that impossibly huge burst of love she’d felt the moment they’d put her child in her arms had terrified her more than the depression or dread or shame.
Because she’d seen the writing on the wall.
That burst of love had been so bright it had illuminated her whole future.
A life on the ranch she hated with a man she didn’t love, raising a child instead of pursuing the one thing she’d wanted since Harry Jensen had stopped her and her mother on the sidewalk to scout her for his modelling agency when she’d been a fourteen-year-old nobody with a middle-class future ahead of her.
So, she’d left.
But it had taken her two months to summon the strength to actually walk away from Poppy.
And, although she didn’t deserve to say it, it had broken her heart.
She’d had to sever herself completely because every time Maverick called and tried to get her to go visit, Shannon had felt that panic rise in her throat.
She’d known, even then, that if she went back, held her daughter, smelled that infant smell, she wouldn’t be able to walk away again.
Still, leaving had cast her into a depression that sometimes still swallowed her. Though she couldn’t speak to anyone about it – boo hoo, poor woman who abandoned her baby! – she checked the Hunt Ranch Instagram every day, hoping for something – anything – of Poppy.
Shannon was an intelligent woman. She did not wallow in self-pity because she knew she had made her own choices.
But it was only now, with her career dwindling despite the blood and pain she’d suffered for it, and not a single person but herself to care, that she realized that Poppy would have loved her unconditionally.
Ironically, she might have been the only person who would have, too.