Chapter 20
Brett
I don’t know if I fully deserve a second chance, but I’m not gonna argue.
Not with a woman who just told me she has a double-barrel shotgun, and she’s not afraid to use it.
Hot. I can totally see that about Bailey, the thought of her defending me like that makes me smile.
There is much, much more to know about my girl, but I also know she would go to the depths of hell for someone she cares about.
So we hunker down, literally.
You would think we were about to witness some kind of nuclear fallout when Bailey returns from the store at dusk with two giant bags of groceries as well as the distinct waft of burgers and fries from The Perky Porch.
It makes my stomach growl. Before she’s even put any of the groceries away, she’s pulling out pillar candles of varying shapes and sizes and dotting them around the house along with some smaller tea lights.
My lips tug a smile as I watch her. “Bailey, honey, what are you doing?”
She turns to look from the fireplace back to me, holding her finger over the trigger on the lighter. “What do you mean? We’re in total lockdown, babe.”
I laugh, despite this ever-growing crazy situation of some kid noticing me on the street and blowing my cover, causing some kind of media frenzy.
The exact kind I was trying to avoid. Being incognito certainly didn’t last very long, and it’s not how I thought things would go.
I’m not even a week into the job. “Lockdown?” I raise an eyebrow, as if to say, is this really necessary?
She could be going overboard ever so slightly.
“Yes. We take these matters very seriously around here. The press hounding you isn’t cool.”
That earns another eyebrow raise. “How often have you hidden a famous country singer in your house?”
She gives me a withering look and blows out a breath. “I haven’t. I just meant when a crisis happens in the town, everyone bands together. It’s what we do.”
“Hopefully it isn’t too much of a crisis just yet,” I quip. But I guess you never know how these things are going to go, and if it weren’t for Bailey potentially being involved, I wouldn’t care less. The press can’t come onto the property, and I’ll be fucked if I’m leaving town.
“Well, from what you said, and what I’ve heard on the street, you need to be protected at all costs.
The press aren’t going to wake up tomorrow and say, ‘I know where Rock Altman is—over at Cedar Hollow’.
So hunkering down here seems like the way to go.
I can go out and get more supplies that we may need, maybe it will die down, anyway. ”
“I think we have enough supplies to last us the rest of the month,” I quip. “And I hear what you’re sayin’, but it’s only a matter of time before someone notices and squeals.”
“True. But it’s better to be forearmed,” she simply states, back in serious mode again, that signature frown on her face.
“I still need to get over to Lawless Farms, I don’t want to let them down when they’re short staffed.”
“You can’t go to work!”
I stroke my beard and secretly love the way she’s taking this so seriously. I mean, it is serious and all, but it’s kinda cute seeing her react this way.
“You don’t even need to work,” she goes on. “Why are you even doing it?”
“I made a commitment to Zane and his dad for the next few weeks,” I say. “And I wanted to come see Jed; it’s been a while since he came out for a visit. He always talks about Alpine Falls so fondly. When everything went down, it was his idea that I come to Wyoming and hang out.”
“That’s sweet of Jed. And you know I can cover things at Lawless Farms,” she says. “We managed before, we can manage again. It’ll be fine.”
I sigh, louder than I mean to. She turns again from lighting candles all over the house to look at me.
I kind of like the way they flicker off the walls like little beacons of hope.
“But I want to be there,” I say. “Being around the horses, and good people like you, Jed, and the Lawless family has started to open me up in ways I could never have imagined. I thought I was just going to hide out at Jed’s place, or the hotel, and strum out some new tunes by myself.
I never expected to meet someone like you, or to go back to my roots on the farm, which is exactly what I needed to do. ”
She blinks, her long, natural lashes beating like a slow butterfly’s wings. “Brett, I had no idea you felt like this. I know I don’t know you very well—wait, am I still supposed to be calling you Brett—or do you prefer Rock?”
I press my lips together to fight a smile. Her cuteness with everything she’s doing and saying right now far outweighs my looming problems. And that is a breath of fresh air in itself. “It’s always Brett, for you,” I say. “None of my friends call me Rock. That’s just a stage name.”
“Is it weird?” she asks. “Having two names and that whole persona that surrounds it all?”
“It takes some getting used to,” I admit, as she walks back into the kitchen and starts putting the groceries away. I pick up one of the bags and pass some things across the counter to her. “And the two worlds collide sometimes. It can be hard to keep your head straight.”
“I can only imagine.” She sets about getting two plates for our burgers and fries, fishing everything out of the paper bags. “The fame thing must be kinda surreal, or maybe you get used to it?”
I pop a shoulder. “There’s times I still have to pinch myself,” I say honestly.
“It’s blood, sweat and tears for sure. And there are times where the lines get really blurred.
But I know there are plenty of people who have it harder than me.
I’m just making music, singing songs, and playin’ the guitar. In many ways, I’m living the dream.”
“But are you happy?”
The words stop me short as she pushes the food over the wooden countertop, a shade lighter than the cedar that adorns this beautiful space. It’s been a long time since anyone asked me that.
Usually, it’s the same questions: Is it great having a career like this that has expanded a decade?
Acquiring this much wealth must be a dream come true?
Who are you dating? Who are you bringing to the music awards?
Do you miss the days you were able to walk around incognito?
— It’s as though it’s some grocery list to check off. But no one ever asks if you’re happy.
Her question throws me and I look down to the plate of food before me. “I thought I was. But it’s been a long time since I’ve really thought about it.”
“Maybe you were until that crazy chick…” She sighs and doesn’t quite finish the sentence.
“It sours things for sure,” I reply. “Nothing quite prepares you for not having much downtime, and for the lack of privacy you face once you start to get really well known. I love my fans. Without them, I’d never be where I am, so I don’t regret anything, nor do I like complainin’ about any of it.
I just wish there was a way to have the best of both worlds.
I thought living on my property in Nashville would give me that because I bought it as my own sanctity, but I’ve barely seen the place in the past two years. My family included.”
“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, walking around to my side of the counter with her plate. I pull out a stool for her and she slides that cute ass onto it.
“Trust me, I’m not doing so bad. There’s people a lot worse off than I am.”
“It doesn’t mean your problems don’t matter.”
I blow out a breath. “I guess there are times when you kinda forget. The paparazzi are in every part of your business. And then there was the whole court case. It was physically and mentally draining.”
“I can’t even imagine what that would be like.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say, meaning every word. “I never meant to keep somethin’ like this from you when you were so open and honest with me about yourself. I swear I was in two minds about what to do.”
“Well, we had just met, so I get it. It’s kinda surreal.
I still can’t believe I’m sitting here with Rock Altman.
” She shakes her head in wonder, and I can see from her sudden far-away gaze that her mind is ticking over.
“I’m a little embarrassed I didn’t recognize you. You could say I don’t get out much.”
I reach to place my finger over her lips, leaning in, quickly replacing it with my lips.
“Don’t even,” I murmur against the softness of her mouth. “I’m the same Brett Turner that you met at The Perky Porch a week ago.”
“Are you sure?” she asks as she looks at me intently, our noses touch, and I peck her again on the lips.
“You’re seeing the real me.” I nod. “Not just the image. We had an immediate connection. You not knowing who I was kinda sealed the deal for me.”
“It did?”
“It’s a sure-fire way to find out if a girl really likes you. Finding love is a pretty hard task once people realize who you are.”
“Have you found love many times before?” she asks, her teeth biting down onto her lip.
I chuckle and unwrap my burger, shoving a fry or two into my mouth. “Here and there,” I say. “It can be a tough life for anyone, especially when I’ve been on tour so much in the past and rarely ever home. Though my last relationship made headlines for all the wrong reasons.”
She raises an eyebrow as she unwraps her burger and takes a bite, clearly not up to date on all the country music gossip.
I don’t mind it; I think I’d rather her not know some of the things written about me, most of which are usually untrue or an extended version of the truth.
But my relationship with Cally Sweetney was less than sweet in the end.
“When my ex-girlfriend cheated she blamed it on me being away so much, even though she could have broken it off at any time.” I sigh, running a hand over my head.
“The press just ate it up. There were always stories about me and other women, and I know I said it before, but I can tell you now that I’ve never been unfaithful.
She was the unfaithful one. Cally couldn’t wait to go running to a local gossip channel to sell out our story. ”
“That’s awful,” she murmurs. “It would make it hard to know who the people you can trust are, or your real friends.”
“Very much so. They say it’s part of the biz, but it’s something I struggle with.
Cally and I were serious, or at least, I thought we were.
I didn’t care about the bad publicity over our split, but when lies are printed about me—that’s another matter.
Then this whole stalker business popped out of the woodwork.
It couldn’t have been worse timing. I pushed back my new album, fired my manager, and put all my tour dates on hold. ”
She swallows as she takes it all in, her eyes wide and curious. “What are you going to do now?” She asks quietly on the breath of a whisper. And I know she wants to know the score between us.
I live in Nashville; she lives here in Alpine Falls, Wyoming. But my frame of mind has shifted. The thought of turning my life upside down for the right reasons might just be on the cards.
In fact, it could just be exactly what I need.
“Maybe I just throw caution to the wind,” I say, which isn’t what I’m used to at all, but seems fitting given the circumstances. And I’m ready to leap.