A Hero’s Haven Read online

  She squeezed him a little harder and leaned her head against him, kissing his collarbone. She nuzzled his neck, and her teeth grazed his skin. Her hand felt amazing, but it was the bite that sent him over the edge. He came with a roar, pulling her tight and bracing his legs against the bed as his vision went black. He found her mouth, taking it in a ruthless, claiming kiss as he rode out the final waves of his release, his come jetting out in hot spurts, between them.

  “Wow, that was hot,” she said with a giggle after a long while.

  He eyed her. “Yeah?”

  She nodded biting her lip.

  “Wait here.” He crossed to the other end of the trailer and grabbed a washcloth wetting it with hot water.

  When he returned, he washed her off, then himself, tossing it in his hamper. Pulling down the sheets, he lifted the corner. “Lie down with me?”

  Her gaze warmed, and she nodded, crawling in front of him. He slipped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back to his front.

  She twisted around. “Cash?”

  “Mmmhmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  The words I love you bubbled up from the deepest part of him, but he bit them back before he made a fool of himself. He couldn’t possibly love her. She certainly couldn’t love him. They barely knew each other. And too many secrets stood between them. Yet, the feeling was there. As clear as day. “Stay?” He kissed her head. “Please?” He hadn’t spent an entire night with a woman since he’d divorced. He hadn’t wanted to. But lying with Kate like this? Felt so right.

  She rolled over, kissing the hollow at the base of his neck, and turned back around, snuggling into him. Something slid home inside him. She murmured something as she drifted off, and while he couldn’t quite hear it, he swore it sounded a helluva lot like “Love you, Cash.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Kate woke with words dancing through her head.

  I was young, I was reckless. Didn’t know then what I know now – that love’s a fickle lady, better stake your claim when she comes dancing in. You better hold on, hold on.

  She sat up with a gasp, sheets falling to her waist. She’d been without words since before the business with the crazy fan. They often came in snippets like this, but the snippet was always the kernel the song grew from. Scanning the room, she looked for a piece of paper, a scrap, anything. Nothing.

  Shutting her eyes, Kate went over the words again, a hint of a tune hovering just out of reach. She had to write it down. She pushed Cash on the shoulder. “Cash,” she whispered. “I need a piece of paper.”

  Cash answered with a sigh and a stretch, possessively laying an arm across her lap.

  “Cash,” she jostled him harder.

  He answered with a rumble.

  Craptastic. It had been so long since the words had come, she’d quit carrying a notebook with her. Gingerly slipping out from under the covers, she tiptoed around the bed. “Paper, paper, paper, where is the paper?” she chanted to herself as she scanned the side table next to the couch. The first drawer in the kitchen held only a few pieces of silverware and some utensils. The second, potholders and aluminum foil. “C’mon. Everyone has a junk drawer in the kitchen,” she mumbled.

  She struck gold with the last drawer. She grabbed a take-out menu from Gino’s, and dug until she found a sharpie. Once she’d scribbled the words in the margins, she folded the menu and tiptoed back to the bedroom. Cash sat waiting with a scowl on his face. “Running out?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all.”

  He glanced at the menu, then back to her, eyes narrowed. “I think Gino’s is closed.”

  “I – I had to write something down before I forgot it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. Shit. Shitshitshit. He looked at her like he knew. But he couldn’t possibly.

  “Need a pen?”

  “Found one.” Her pulse hammered in her ears.

  He stretched out a hand. “Come back to bed, then,” he said, voice gravelly.

  Her knees went rubbery from relief, and she tossed the menu on her jeans, and crawled back into his embrace.

  Cash pulled her down on his chest, smoothing back her hair, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. “Sleep okay?”

  “Like a baby.”

  His eyes crinkled. “Me too.” He nuzzled her, beard tickling the sensitive spot at the base of her neck. Tingles of awareness raced to her toes. “I’d keep you in bed all day if I could.”

  The invitation in his voice lit a fire inside her, as did his growing erection pressing into her thigh. She rolled her hips against him. “I’d like that too.” Her body still hummed from last night. She’d written about ecstasy, about two souls soaring to the sky, but she’d never realized until last night what it could be like. She’d die a happy woman if she could spend every day making music and getting naked with Cash. And there was still more to experience. “No chance we could play hooky, is there?” She already knew the answer, but wanted him to know she was willing.

  He placed a kiss on her jaw. “Nope. But I’m not doing anything after supper tonight.”

  She lifted her brows. “Yeah?”

  He raised his in answer.

  “I’d like that. Very much.”

  He tightened his embrace. “Me, too. Very much.”

  * * *

  “Thanks so much, Kate,” Elaine said as she put away the last of the breakfast dishes. “I’m so grateful for an extra pair of hands. I hope you’ll consider staying after the baby comes.” She patted her belly. “It’s so nice to have another woman on the property.”

  Kate returned the woman’s smile. “I’ll think about it. I like it here.” In her heart of hearts, she knew she couldn’t stay. Sooner or later, she’d have to return home and face the press. And her mother. But now that she’d had a taste of a normal life, one without the frenzy of the press, and the constant pressure to come up with new material, a new look, a new show, she was dragging her feet.

  And she didn’t want to leave Cash. Not after last night. It was crazy to feel attached to him, but she couldn’t help it. Even if he pushed her away again, she’d push right back. Cash was special.

  Kate hiked back to her trailer, words tumbling through her head. A song was itching to be born. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. But she couldn’t write in such a confined space. At home, she wrote on her covered porch, overlooking the meadow and the pond. And if a chill hung in the air, she’d take her guitar to the barn and sing to the horses. She might not be able to sing, but she could slip unnoticed into the barn and try to capture the song lurking just out of reach.

  She made a thermos of hot tea, stuffed a small notebook and Gino’s take-out menu into her coat pocket, grabbed her guitar and headed for the barn. She stopped only once, just across the yard from the barn, to watch Travis and Cash and their day help framing the foreman’s house. She liked observing Cash unawares. He threw himself into his work, whether it was mucking stalls, or hammering nails. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do.

  He was like a freaking mountain man, strong and capable with muscles for days and a rough, rugged edge to him that lit her up. But gentle in all the right ways. Like the way he made her body sing… Heat flashed through her. It might be early March, but she wouldn’t need her coat if she stood there much longer.

  With a reluctant sigh, she turned and slipped into the barn, heading for the far corner where she shoveled fresh hay. Her feet made the barest echo on the floor, and the quiet settled over her like an old familiar blanket. She settled herself on a hay bale, tea at her feet, and let her mind wander as she pulled out her guitar. Her fingers moved over the strings, plucking and strumming at random intervals as she let the music in her head wash over her.

  Her best songs came as a gift. Others were born out of hard work. But in either case, there was always a period of nebulousness, of chaos swirling over the firmament, so to speak. A tendril of fear twisted her gut. She’d always sung through the fragments until she had a song
. Could she write a song without that? Should she try to sing? Fear blossomed into dread. And sorrow.

  She didn’t know how to do anything else. Except take care of horses. And yes, she was lucky, she could afford to retire, but what would she do? She’d been performing for over a decade. And she’d never made a career choice without her mother. Strike that, she’d never had a choice. Her mother had made her career. What twelve-year-old wants to tour full-time?

  She struck a chord, enjoying the way the sound bounced off the walls.

  I’ll fly to you, will you fly to me?

  The words bounced around her head.

  What if she went into producing? She didn’t really know her way around a sound board, but she could learn. She’d always felt like she had good instincts for sound, even if her ideas had been shot down at every turn. But would anyone work with a washed up twenty-four-year-old who’d been handled her whole life? More importantly, could she transition quietly? Not if the press had its way. She’d never get a moment’s rest once everything blew up in the press. She sighed, heart sinking to her toes. Resolution Ranch might be a haven for her, but time was running out. Sooner than she was ready, she’d have to leave the ranch. And Cash.

  Her heart twisted so painfully, she couldn’t breathe. Her throat ached at the thought of saying goodbye.

  She struck another chord, fingers moving over the fretboard of their own accord, settling into a familiar and comforting pattern. She shut her eyes and opened her mouth.

  Oh Shenandoah… I long to hear you…

  Her throat felt like she’d swallowed a fish bone. She lightened up.

  A-way… you rolling river…

  Wobbly and scratchy. Like a baby learning to walk. Her throat hitched.

  Oh Shenandoah… I long to hear you…

  She blinked back the tears. She would not cry. She would not.

  A-way… I’m bound away…

  Deep sadness filled her.

  Across the wide… Missouri…

  Her voice might be ruined, but no one could take away the music of her heart. And this was the music of her heart. The touchstone song she’d learned the first time she picked up a guitar. The song she sang for the father she never knew, for the grandmother she missed. For all that she’d lost. She might never sing in front of anyone else again, but here, in the solitude of the barn, her broken, scratchy voice could sing. And the ache she carried inside her might ease.

  In spite of her efforts, a tear leaked out as she moved into the second verse. And she let them come. She couldn’t sing full voice, it hurt too much. But it was something. And after so many months of enforced silence, it was freeing to just let go.

  Across the wide… Missouri…

  The last note faded to silence. Her throat felt prickly. A little achy. Heart heavy, she bent and took a gulp of hot tea. No amount of hot tea or vocal rest would give back what she lost. If this is what she felt like after one song, there was no way she could make it through a set, let alone a show.

  Her fingers moved over the strings again, this time moving through the changes to her first huge hit. But instead of the upbeat tempo her mother and Franco had insisted she record it at, she took it slow. The way she’d wanted to produce the song. The way she’d performed it the last time she’d sung in front of a crowd. Pain wrapped around her heart like a vice. She didn’t like thinking about that night, but the crowd had been stellar. Magic. She’d treasure that for the rest of her life.

  Dance with me… under the stars of a moonless sky…

  Maybe they’d been right – the song had been an instant hit. But she always felt it lacked something that was there when the tempo was slower. Sweeter. And the audience had agreed. At least that night. She sang the first verse and circled back to the chorus.

  “Ohmygod it’s YOU,” a voice squealed. “I knew it. You’re Kaycee Starr.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “What?” Kate’s heart slammed into her throat, and she nearly dropped her guitar as her eyes snapped to the woman belonging to the voice. Emma Sinclaire. The woman Travis hired to do publicity for the ranch. And she had a phone. OhnoOhnoOhnoOhno. “What are you doing?” she screeched, jumping to her feet, pain ripping through her throat. “OhmyGod, you have to erase that right now.” She stumbled to the woman, hand extended.

  Emma stuffed the phone into her pocket. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re Kaycee Starr.”

  “Give me your phone,” she begged hoarsely.

  “What are you talking about? You’re amazing. I should have recorded that first piece.”

  Kate’s eyes grew wide as her stomach dropped to her toes. “How long have you been here?” There was no use denying who she was, but maybe she could convince Emma to keep quiet.

  “Long enough to know you don’t need to be communicating with pen and paper.” Emma crossed her arms, eyeing her suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I was just taking a break.” Kate’s mind raced. How was she going to explain herself? Emma could ruin everything.

  Emma crossed her arms, scowling. “Why are you here? You don’t need this job.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is this some kind of a publicity stunt? I’m not going to let you take advantage of my friends.”

  Kate’s shoulders drooped. “I swear that’s not it at all.” The last thing she wanted was to take advantage of anyone. She just needed space to figure out her life. And time to recover. “I need this job,” she said quietly.

  “No, you don’t. You have more money than everyone in town combined.”

  Kate shook her head. “You don’t understand. Please.” She held out her hand. “Can I please have the phone? I-I-I’ll pay you.” Anything. She couldn’t risk people seeing that video. Especially when her voice was a husk.

  “You think everyone can be bought?” Emma’s voice rose. “I don’t want your money. I want to know why you’re here at the ranch taking advantage of my friends.”

  Kate held up her hands in supplication. “I know it looks bad, but I swear, I’m not.”

  Emma’s mouth flattened. “Start talking.”

  Kate gestured to the hay bales, heart sinking. PR types were the worst. They only saw dollar signs for their agencies. “Can we sit?”

  Emma shrugged. “Sure.”

  Kate returned to where she’d been sitting and paused to gather her thoughts while she drank more hot tea. It felt like a prickly pear cactus had sprouted in her throat. Think, Kate. Think. What would Helene do? She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. But if she was going to take control of her future, she had to be her own advocate. No one could do that for her anymore.

  Kate rolled back her shoulders, meeting Emma’s mistrustful gaze head-on. “Before I tell you anything, I need to know you’re not going to go to the press, or sell my story to the tabloids.”

  Emma’s eyes snapped angrily. “I know show biz is filled with slimebags, but this is Prairie. And if you believe that any one of us here would sell you out, then maybe you should sneak back to your castle in Kentucky–”

  “Tennessee.”

  “I don’t care where it is. I thought you were here to help the ranch.”

  Guilt ate at Kate. “I am. But it’s more complicated than that.”

  Emma crossed her arms. “Try me.”

  “I’ll need you to sign a non-disclosure.” Would her mother be proud of her for once? Sticking to her guns like this?

  Emma made a face and waved a hand. “I sign them all the time in my line of work.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a folder and a pen. She found the form and scrawled her signature. “Here. It’s Royal Fountain Media’s standard ND.” She practically shoved it at her.

  Kate scanned the form. It was the standard gobbledygook and would suffice. She folded the form and slipped it into her back pocket. She took a deep breath, pulse thready with anxiety. “How much do you know about me?”

  “I heard you canceled a tour and disappeared from the public eye.”

  Kate studied her carefull
y. She didn’t look like she was holding anything back, but it was hard to tell. “Anything else?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so busy I don’t pay attention to much superstar drama.”

  Kate ignored the barb, even though it hurt. As far as superstars went, she was pretty low-key. And the only drama in her life came from others. “No one knows I’m here. As far as the paparazzi are concerned, I’ve become a recluse at my estate.”

  “You mean you never leave?” Emma sounded incredulous.

  “Rarely. I make it work. Or I did…” her voice trailed off. She took a drink and continued, heart kicking against her ribs. Could she trust Emma? “I- I… lost my voice. Ruined it, some people say.”

  “That’s why the paper and pen?”

  She nodded. “I had vocal surgery. And… and,” she sniffed, blinking hard, then shook her head. “It partially worked. But they basically told me I’d never be able to keep the schedule I had before… before.”

  Emma gasped, covering her mouth.

  Great. Just the reaction she didn’t want to see. Kate felt sick.

  “The doctor said that I should- I should- find a different career.” The last part came out in a whisper. The finality of it all crashed down on her. Her career was dead. And giving voice to that reality cut to her soul.

  Silence filled the barn.

  “But you sounded beautiful,” Emma said softly.

  Kate laughed bitterly. “I can’t even tell. Everything feels so foreign. Broken.”

  “Well if this is broken Kaycee Starr, I’ll take it. And so will a ton of other people, I bet. Question is, what do you want to do?”

  Kate brushed a hand over her eyes. “I don’t know who I am without a guitar in my hands. That’s part of why I came here. I grew up around horses. And I figured if I could just make it through a day caring for the animals without breaking down, then maybe that was a start.”

  “So you came here to start over?”