by Nicole James
“Yes, sir.”
“We have a decision to make. An opportunity has come up, and you were the first one I thought of, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What opportunity?”
“Axel Rod has to cancel his tour; he’s in no condition for it. So that leaves a string of venues hanging in the wind with no artist coming in. They need a replacement act. So here’s the deal, you can either finish the European tour with Charlotte, or if you think you’re ready, you can take the spots and go out on your own American tour.”
“Are you serious? My own tour?”
“I thought you were ready for that. I thought that was what you wanted.”
“I—”
Lou held up his hand. “Don’t. Don’t say a fucking word. You need to take the two weeks we have off to go home and think long and hard about it. You get one shot in this business. Lightning doesn’t strike twice. Your very first single went platinum. Right now you’re hot. Right now you’re the new kid. That doesn’t last long in this business. You either fly, or you don’t. But you won’t get a second chance at a career…not with top talent like me and not with a top act like Charlotte willing to help you.”
Rory nodded.
“I’ll call you next week. I’ll need your answer then. One way or another I have to find an act to fill those spots.” Lou smacked the table with his palm, stood, and got off the bus.
Rory slumped in his seat. He didn’t have a clue what he was going to do. It was a big decision, and if he didn’t pull his shit together, the decision would be taken out of his hands. But they were right to question him. He did need that time to think long and hard about what he wanted… what he really wanted in life.
Chapter Eighteen
Rayne sat in Daniel’s old office, going over the books. The money coming into Connor Motor Works barely came close to covering the stack of bills going out, and it had been that way for months. Now they were in the thick of winter, and sales were even worse. There were lots of cities where it stayed warm enough to ride all year round, but Denver certainly wasn’t one of them. Yes, some people took advantage of the winter months to get repairs or modifications done to their bikes, but with all things considered, Rayne had to face the facts that it would never cover expenses this year.
Daniel had always done well enough during the summer months to get them through the winter. That hadn’t happen this year. In addition to regular bills, Daniel had borrowed heavily to open the place and there were loan payments to make. She had no idea how much longer she’d be able to make those payments.
Daniel had been known for his expertise in repair and for having a fabulous rapport with his customers that had built up a loyalty among them. Those things were hard to replace. After his death, customers had stayed out of respect. But now they had begun to drift to other shops for their needs.
Rayne rubbed her forehead. She had no idea how to turn things around. Suddenly, it all closed in on her and became too much. She didn’t know what she was doing and felt completely in over her head. The first sob bubbled up, tightening her throat, and her eyes stung. “Oh, Daniel,” she whispered. “I wish you were here.”
She put her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She tried hard to keep from making a sound. She didn’t want anyone to hear her breaking down like this. She was at work, and the store’s front counter was just around the corner. At the other end of the hallway was the door to the repair shop and garage. The guys walked past this office all the time.
But the more she tried to muffle the sobs, the harder they came.
It wasn’t long before Charlie stuck his head around the doorframe. “Rayne, you okay?”
When she looked up at him, the tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Oh, honey, what is it?” He was across the room and kneeling next to her chair in a flash.
She could only shake her head, the words stuck in her tight throat.
He rubbed her back. “Sweetheart, tell me what’s the matter.”
She wiped her eyes and drew in a breath. “There’s not enough money, Charlie. Business just isn’t what it used to be.”
“Then we’ll think of something. We’ll find a way to get people back in here. Don’t worry, Rayne.”
She appreciated his optimism, she really did, but she didn’t share it. “How can I not worry? This was Daniel’s dream. He left it all to me, and I’m running it into the ground.” She couldn’t stop the new sob that burst from her.
“Baby, please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you this way.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. Tears aren’t going to fix anything.”
“I’ll get the team together for a meeting. We’ll brainstorm and come up with something. I swear it, Rayne. None of us are going to let this place go under.”
Rayne put on a forced smile. “Yes. Yes, we’ll find a way.”
But in her heart she didn’t believe it was possible. Daniel had been the heart and soul of this place and without him, it would never be the business it once was.
“You’ve spent too much time in front of this computer today. You need to get out of this tiny office. Come up front and rearrange the merchandise.” He grinned. “That’s what you love to do most.”
She wiped her tears away. “Yes. I do need a break.”
She spent the rest of the afternoon rearranging the wall of apparel and gear until it had a fresh new look, putting all the new spring shirts and jackets in a prominent display. She stood back to study it and nodded with satisfaction.
Charlie came to stand by her. “It looks great, Rayne. You did an awesome job.”
She smiled, pleased with it. “I think so, too.”
Charlie had been right. It felt good to get out of the office and do something creative.
He patted her shoulder.
She felt the first rumblings in her stomach that she knew immediately was another bout of morning sickness. Whoever had called it morning sickness had definitely named it wrong. It struck at all times of the day, and Rayne was so sick of dealing with it. She was almost six months pregnant now and just beginning to show. Oh, not enough that anyone would notice yet; to make sure of it, she’d taken to wearing baggy sweatshirts and had given up on anything form fitting. She’d also been very lucky in hiding her trips to the bathroom to heave into the toilet, at least, so far.
Another rumble, and she excused herself to dash around the counter and down the hall to the restroom. She made it just in time.
When she was through, she turned on the faucet in the sink and cupped her hand under the water stream, bringing it to her mouth. Straightening, she stared at her face in the mirror.
There was a tap on the door. “Rayne, you okay in there?”
Her eyes got big. Shit. Charlie knew she’d been in here getting sick.
She wiped her face with a paper towel and dried her hands. “I’m fine. I’ll be right out.”
She put her hand on her stomach, hoping the bout had passed, and took a deep breath. Then she opened the door, pasting a smile on her face.
Charlie was leaning against the wall. He straightened when he saw her. “Are you sick?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. Just something I ate at lunch, I guess. Must not have agreed with me.”
He frowned and put his hand to her forehead. “You sure? You’ve been looking a little pale lately, and you’ve been so tired.”
She covered her mouth and dashed back into the restroom. This time Charlie put a hand on the door and watched as she vomited.
“Rayne.” He held her hair and put a hand on her back, rubbing.
She was so embarrassed to have him see.
He grabbed some paper towels and wet them, then wiped her face.
Finally, the nausea passed, and she felt better. She took the wet towels from him and wiped her mouth, leaning against the wall. “I’m so sorry.”
He frowned. “Rayne, are you pregnant?”
Confronted with the question, her eyes filled wi
th tears, and she could only nod. The jig was up; the boys would know soon enough anyway.
“Oh, baby girl, why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t something I planned.”
He nodded, staring at her. “Who’s the father?”
His question took her by surprise. She wasn’t sure she was ready to discuss that part of all this. “Charlie, that’s really not your business.” She brushed past him and went into the office. He followed her in and shut the door.
“I know it’s not, but someone needs to look out for you, and Daniel’s not here to do it.”
“Oh, so it’s your job now?” she snapped, the stress getting to her. He pulled his head up, his jaw tightening at her words, and she felt like shit. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I’m a little hormonal right now.”
“Of course. You’re right; it’s not my business. If you don’t want to talk about it—” He put a hand on the door knob.
Her quiet words stopped him. “It was someone I met on my trip—just a one night stand. I never heard from him again.”
His features softened. “I’m sorry, Rayne.” He studied her a long moment. “So, you haven’t told him? You don’t have his number?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He sat in the only other chair in the small office, his elbows on his knees and rubbed his palms slowly back and forth across each other. Finally, he looked up at her. “Let me be there for you, Rayne.”
She frowned, not really understanding. “What do you mean?”
His eyes locked with hers, and she read the sincerity there just before he opened his mouth and dropped a bomb. “Marry me.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll take care of you and the baby.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Is it? I’ve always had feelings for you. You must have known that.”
“Yes, but you’ve never once—”
“Never made a move, I know. I figured I was too old for you. I’ve been ready to settle down for a while now, but I knew you were just starting to stretch your wings. I figured maybe in time there’d be a chance for us. I think that time might be now, Rayne.”
“Charlie—”
“I’d be good to you. I’d raise that baby as my own, and I’d love you both. So much.”
“I can’t.” She shook her head. “I can’t marry you just because I’m in trouble.”
“It wouldn’t be like that.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to you, Charlie. I don’t love you.”
“Maybe in time—”
“No. Not now, not in time.” She took a breath. “Don’t you see? It would have happened by now already. You’re the perfect guy, Charlie. You’re a good man and—”
“You’re not attracted.”
“You’re a very attractive man, Charlie. You are, but I just don’t have those feelings for you. You’re more like a brother to me.”
He stood. “Okay. I can’t make you have feelings you don’t have. But if you change your mind, I’ll always be here.”
He walked out the door.
She knew she’d done the right thing, but she didn’t take his offer lightly, and seeing him walk out made her all the more aware of just how alone she was.
***
That evening, Rayne sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of soup. Her father was still at the diner, like he was most nights, and she ate alone.
The soup was a leftover he’d brought home last night. Business at the diner was down, too, and she knew her father was struggling financially. She couldn’t look to him for help with the business.
With things the way they were at the shop, she’d taken a big pay cut, reducing her salary to minimum wage so she could put the money toward the loan payment instead. It made things hard at home, and she’d really had to tighten her belt. Living with her father in the old three-bedroom Victorian house helped. But the place needed repairs, and her father didn’t have money to make them. The roof was in bad shape, the plumbing leaked, and the furnace was on its last leg.
She’d cut back as much as she could at home, clipping coupons, scaling back on groceries, and shopping at the resale shop for maternity clothes that she’d hidden away because she hadn’t told her father yet. Things looked grim, and she knew they would only get worse. Now she only had to buy prenatal vitamins, but once the baby came, there’d be so much more she’d need to buy. Diapers alone would be a strain.
She took her bowl of soup and walked into the small living room, flipping on the television to get her mind off her problems.
An entertainment show came on, talking about the latest superhero movie premiering that weekend. Another thing she couldn’t afford. The story switched, and Rayne was suddenly looking at one of the hosts interviewing Rory on a tour bus.
He looked handsome, dressed in a white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing his tattoos and what looked like an expensive flashy watch. There he sat in all the trappings of his fame and success while she sat here eating warmed over soup, wondering how she was going to make ends meet.
Resentment flared through her at the unfairness of it all. He’d never responded to her letter, and she had been crushed. Somewhere deep down inside her, she’d wanted him to step up, wanted him to come and tell her it had all been a misunderstanding, that he’d lost her number or something. But she knew that was all a fairytale. He’d had no more interest in her than the one night they’d spent together. It shocked her in some ways, because that wasn’t the type of person she’d thought he was, especially to turn his back on his child? She’d never have imagined he’d be that way. Just goes to show how little she really knew the man.
She could go to Brothers Ink, make a scene, tell his family how she was knocked up by him, but she’d be damned if she’d beg for his help or for him to be involved in this baby’s life. No way! Not a chance! She’d rather scrimp and struggle and do the best she could than beg for help.
But she felt so vulnerable right now, and didn’t her baby deserve a better life than that?
She thought again of Charlie’s offer. If she accepted, she knew he’d move heaven and earth to give her a good life. If the shop closed, and he was forced to find another job, she knew he’d have one before the week was out. He’d be a good provider; she knew that in her heart.
Perhaps it was time she put her wants and dreams aside and thought of her child instead. Her baby would definitely have a good life with Charlie as a father. He was a good man, principled, caring, and easy-going. He would never cheat on her, he would never give her reason to doubt him, they would never argue or fight, and she knew instinctively he would be a wonderful father.
She bit her lip, wondering if she should reconsider his offer.
Chapter Nineteen
Rory caught an Uber out to the farm, arriving just as the sun set. His flight had been long, and he was tired. He grabbed his duffle bag and guitar case and walked up the porch steps. No one knew he was coming, and although this was still his home, he almost felt like he needed to knock. But family didn’t knock, so he opened the door and walked in. “Hello.”
He set his bag and guitar down.
Sounds drifted from the kitchen in the back of the house so he headed that way. He could smell dinner cooking and hear laughter as he walked down the hall. He entered the kitchen and found Jameson leaning against the counter, his arms folded. He was the first to see him standing there. “Rory! What are you doing here?”
Maxwell turned from the refrigerator, and Mrs. Larsen turned from the stove where she was stirring something delicious smelling in a pan.
“Why, hello, Rory.”
Malee was feeding her baby daughter who sat in a highchair. Across the table was ten-year old Ben shoveling macaroni and cheese into his mouth. The perfect little family.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on tour?” Max asked, his demeanor stiff. Rory knew why; he’d made an ass of himself when his brothers had c
ome out to see him in Portland.
“I, ah, finished the last leg. The European tour doesn’t start for a couple of weeks. We’ve got a break.”
“I see.” Max didn’t shake his hand or hug him. None of them did. “We were just about to sit down for dinner. You hungry?”
“No, man. I don’t want to intrude.”
Max nodded, apparently fine with that answer and not about to argue it.
Rory looked over at their infant daughter. “How’s baby Grace?”
“She’s growing like a weed.” Max swung the refrigerator door shut.
Malee smiled up at him. “Hello, Rory.”
“Walk outside with me, bro,” Jameson said, drawing his attention. Rory knew what was coming—the big brother talk. And he supposed he deserved it, but it still irked him.
“Yeah, sure.” He followed Jameson out the back door and down the steps into the backyard that wasn’t really a backyard at all, but thirty acres. Jameson led him over to the fire pit where chairs were gathered around.
“Sit down,” Jameson said.
“We building a fire?” Rory asked.
“No, just talking.”
Rory sat in one of the canvas chairs, and Jameson sat in another.
“What’s going on with you?” Jameson asked.
“What do you mean?” Rory brushed imaginary dirt off his jeans, being evasive.
“You know damn well what I mean. That shit in Portland. Max and Liam said you were loaded on stage, and now there’s a video circulating.”
“I fucked up. Cut me a break.”
“A break?” Jameson’s brows arched. “You want a fucking break? Seems to me you’ve had quite a few breaks lately.”
Rory’s jaw clenched, and inside he silently fumed. He’d worked hard for years as a musician, doing shows in shitholes and dive bars, traveling out of the back of a van. Everyone seemed to forget that. “You think it’s been easy for me? I’ve watched as you made a success of everything you did—the shop, the reality TV show, the book you released… You’re like the fucking golden goose. You think that was easy for me, struggling for scraps as a musician while you were rolling in it?”