by Megan Ryder
“You’re on speaker so be polite.”
“Hey, lil’ bit. What’s going on?”
“I hate that name. You know that.”
“Why do you think I call you that? I hate being on speaker, so deal with it.” His low chuckle came through the phone. “How is the back-ass world of Montana?”
“You should be careful what you say. You never know who’s listening. Besides, these are our people up here. They love country music.”
“You giving concerts again without permission? Darren’ll have kittens.”
She snorted. “It was one time and for a good cause. So, what do you need?”
“Maybe I just want to talk to my favorite sister.” His hurt tone made her laugh.
“Please. You never call just to chat. What do you want?”
“Okay, bottom line. I need a new cover band, and we have a few audition tapes. You’re way better than I am at picking up the next talent.”
“Clearly. I picked your last group, and they’re moving up in the world, leaving you in the dust.”
“I prefer to think of it as I helped them get to the next stage in their careers while they entertained my fans until I was ready to perform. Either way, will you listen to the tapes? You’re the best, lil’ bit. I also have a couple of new songs I’d love your thoughts on. You’re good at picking up what’s not working, and these aren’t quite right.”
She sighed. As usual, he wasn’t waiting for her response. “Colt, you know what works for you. Shoot, you won an award last year for your album. What do you need me for?”
“Hey, no one has a better ear than you. Darren says it too.” She could hear him settling down, the rustling of clothes and his favorite leather chair in the background. “So, seriously, how are things?”
Prepared for the switch in conversation, she tucked a leg under her and got comfortable. “Things are good. Tara is keeping us busy, getting ready for the wedding. As typical, she’s doing it all herself. Can you believe she wants to get married in a barn?”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “A barn. Just how far out in the boondocks are you? Do you need me to send the plane to rescue you?”
She laughed. “Actually, I’m enjoying myself more than I expected. She’s marrying a rancher, and you wouldn’t even recognize her.”
Colt laughed. “Tara the man-eater is slowing down and marrying a rancher? She’s giving up the city? Well, she must be in love. But I didn’t ask about her, and please, for the love of God, no details about the wedding. I can’t take information about dresses, flowers, or hairstyles. I called to ask about you.”
His suddenly serious tone sobered her, and she laid her head on the back of the chair. God, was she so fragile that her family had to constantly check in on her, make sure she was okay? She let out a deep breath to ensure her tone was even and measured. “I’m fine, Colt. Just relaxing and enjoying Montana. Why?”
“Hmmm. I know how touring exhausts you. When are you coming home again? Darren said you found a new group you wanted him to hear. Are you out there scouting talent for him now?”
At least her brother wasn’t laughing at her. He’d always had her back growing up. He was four years older and often checked in with Piper when she was at school or watched out for her when they were at home while their parents toured. They had caretakers, people they never called nannies but who were there to cook, clean, and take care of them. But it was always Piper and Colt against the world, as he used to say. Colt could have hung out with his friends and left Piper to her own devices, but he always made sure she wasn’t alone.
Her protector.
“I enjoy doing it. We were lucky to have parents to help us, but not everyone has the chance to get in front of scouts. This group is good, and one of their singers, Ty, is amazing. He reminds me of both you and Dad—your raw edges with Dad’s crooning tones.”
“So, what’s he doing in bumfuck Montana? He should get his ass to Nashville. Darren would listen to him on your word alone.”
She sighed. “He’s committed to the ranch; says he can’t leave when there’s so much work to be done.”
“So, when’s the off season there? Or he can send his demo tape. Does he want to sing professionally or not? Lil’ bit, you can’t help everyone, especially if they don’t want it. And right now, you have to focus on yourself.”
And there was the heart of the matter, the real reason her brother was calling. She knew he’d get to it eventually. He’d dance around the subject just like he’d dance around the stage and flirt with his women, but at the end of the day, he’d state his intentions and be damned the consequences.
“Colt, I’ve got this. The last couple albums were not the right genre for me. Too pop, too light. I’m working on something now, a new direction. It’s going to be a risk, but I think it could be great.”
“Are you sure? Don’t go too far, Piper. Risks are fine when you have a strong position. But if you go too far, people may not follow you.”
She laughed. “As if they’re listening now. I know you saw my numbers from the road and my sales. I think I need to do something radical. It’s time for me to do something radical.”
There was silence on the phone for several seconds as the sound of the birds trilled around her. She waited: he was, as usual, toying between encouragement and advice. Finally, he exhaled. “Piper, is this what you want? Performing? Concerts? I mean, you always hated this. Maybe you need to take a bit of time to really think about your next steps instead of rushing into the studio, listening to Mom and Darren. I know they want you to hurry up and get moving, but maybe that’s not the best move. Maybe you need a break.”
A flash of anger burned in her, hot and bright. How could her brother, the one person who’d had her back for all of these years, turn on her so quickly? Was her career that far gone? She closed her eyes and moderated her breathing, consciously trying to tamp down her anger and focus on the words and form a response.
“Honestly, Colt. I don’t know. I’m pretty tired and worn out. I don’t know what I think right now, and that’s why this vacation is good for me. But if I don’t sing, what would I do? Be your secretary, managing your revolving door of opening acts? Help coordinate your tours?”
“Shit, Piper. I don’t know. I’m just saying, you hate performing. So why do it?”
“I don’t hate performing. I just sang the other night with Ty and that group and had a great time.” And it had been fun. She hadn’t been worried if she made a misstep, screwed up a word, or wasn’t perfect. She let the music carry her away and enjoyed herself.
“Aw shit, Piper. Darren will have a whole clowder of cats. You can’t be doing that, you know that. None of us can.”
“Don’t worry. No one recorded it. It was fine. Relax.”
“You’ve gone off the rails, lil’ bit. But hey, if you’re having fun, just be careful, okay? I only want you to be happy, and you haven’t been in a long time.”
Her heart hurt with his words, the soft tone her normally dominant brother was using. “It’s fine, Colt. And I love you too, doofus. Now, go wake up your latest fling and get her out of the hotel room before the reporters catch wind of her or she expects a ring.”
“Hey! I resent that. I don’t have a woman here.” He paused. “She left a few hours ago. I think.”
They both laughed. “You’re a pig.”
“You love me anyway. Take care, lil’ bit. I’ll send you the tapes. Love you.”
She sighed and put the phone down on the table next to her. Even her brother didn’t think her career was on the upswing. Her biggest supporter. Damn. She needed to do something radical. Her attention fell on the notebook and the lyrics. That song was more in line with what she had often longed to write. Maybe this song could be her ticket to a comeback. If she could convince Ty to think beyond the ranch and his life here.
Chapter Thirteen
Piper sat in the back room of The Rock, sipping fruity electric-pink punch from a plastic c
up that read Let’s Raise a Little Hell Before the Wedding Bells and munching on a penis-shaped cookie, the theme for the evening being reflected in the sign, Same Penis Forever. Emma had really outdone herself decorating, with half-naked cartoon cowboys on the walls and glittery garlands of pink lips and gold penises reflecting the light. She had seemed so sweet when Piper first met her. First impressions were really deceiving.
Every woman had a plastic cup for their drink with a unique saying on it about the upcoming wedding. Tara’s said Last Fling Before the Ring. Somehow, Piper didn’t think West would be letting Tara far enough away to have a fling, not even with the weirdly asexual blowup cowboy tied to the saddle in the corner. At least she hoped he was asexual, otherwise, she was staying right here, on the other side of the room.
There were several other women Piper didn’t know attending the shower, and Piper lurked around the outskirts, not quite comfortable enough to get in on the ribald teasing and joking going on about the upcoming honeymoon, especially the suggestions involving rope, bridles, and saddles. She wasn’t sure some of those suggestions were even possible, but she wasn’t even going to ask for further clarification. It bordered on TMI already. She absently rubbed the nametag she had been assigned when she walked in, wishing she could rip it off and bury it somewhere, but Emma would pop up from somewhere and slap another one on her.
Hello, I’m Single. Ask Me to Dance.
God, hopefully she wouldn’t have to leave this room. Ever. Though drinking the pink punch was all that was getting her through this weirdly uncomfortable evening, and if she kept downing it like water, she’d need the little cowgirl’s room, and that would require a trip to the general bar outside. And she did not want to go out there looking like Pepto-Bismol vomited all over her, with the pink feather boa around her neck, the weird pink glitter glasses that said Bride’s Most Trusted Bitches and a pink headband with alien stars popping out of it saying Party Girl.
God, she hated pink.
She was lucky not to get one of the other tags or headbands though. Emma was proudly displaying her tag and matching headband: Wild Woman. Buy Me a Drink. Hailey’s was more sedate: Sorry, I’m Taken. Jealous? And Sierra’s was a bit more sly: Party Animal. Have a Whirl?
For all she knew, she’d be asked to follow through on the instructions on the nametag as some initiation ritual or party game. There wasn’t enough punch in the universe for her to dance with a stranger.
Tara flopped into the chair next to her, the tan cowgirl hat that was oddly unadorned askew on her head. She leaned into Piper and clinked their plastic cups, sloshing the punch a little. Tara wrapped an arm around Piper, pulling her close, the drunken, sappy part of the evening beginning. “I’m so glad you came.”
Piper sighed. “Me too. What happened to you?” She only meant it half joking, and thank goodness that Tara took it that way.
Tara got one of those secret smiles she seemed to wear a lot these days, often around West. “I fell in love. I know it seems weird and completely out of character for me, given everything you knew about me, but I’m happy. Truly happy here. I never thought it would happen, and never back on the ranch. But it’s true.”
Piper went to rest her head on Tara’s, but the stupid hat got in the way. She yanked it off and tossed it to the side then laid her head down again. “You swore you’d never come back here, never wanted anything to do with Montana ever again. Yet here you are.”
Tara quirked her lips in a grin. “You have seen my fiancé, right? He’s totally worth it. There’s nothing like him in San Francisco and believe me I looked. Besides, I found something here I never found in California.”
Piper furrowed her brow. “Well, it certainly wasn’t fashion. And if you tell me it was love, I might gag.” Even if she was jealous.
Tara laughed, lurching a little in her seat. “No, not fashion, and believe it or not, that doesn’t matter. And it never mattered to you either, if I recall. I found myself. I’m happier here. I was so miserable in San Fran and never even knew it. I hated my job, even as a partner in the firm. Hated what I was doing. And hated who I had become. I thought I had a plan for my life, but it was a treadmill going nowhere fast.”
“Now you live on a ranch and decorate houses and cabins for fun. And run a guest ranch.” Piper sighed. “But you’re happy. Even I can see that.”
And she could. Piper never remembered Tara smiling as much as she had in this last week. Tara had always been so closed off, protective of herself and wary of others. Now, she was open, laughing, and wearing freaking penises, for goodness’ sake. She was talking about sex and laughing about her honeymoon. The old Tara would have never done that, not even at her first bachelorette party.
“Your last bridal shower was a bit different. And did you even have a bachelorette party?” Piper asked.
Tara bit her lower lip. “I don’t think so. I can’t imagine any of those tight-asses eating anything with calories, although they certainly drank enough. They were never my friends, as I found out after the divorce. What about you? How many bachelorette parties have you been to?”
Piper snorted. “You know the answer to that. I’m on the road too much to have time. I think my assistant got married the last time we had a break, but I wasn’t invited to the bachelorette party, if she had one. It wouldn’t have been appropriate.”
Tara snorted. “Because she’s your employee? Girl, you need to lighten up and get yourself a posse. Otherwise, you’re going to be lonely as hell. Hailey works for me. So does Sierra, or she will once I get the spa part up and running for the guest ranch, someday. Friendship transcends working lines. Someday you’re going to wake up and find yourself alone, and I would hate for that to happen. I’ve missed you, and I don’t want to see you go down the path I was heading.”
Piper hugged Tara and then let the other bridesmaids pull Tara away for some of the risqué games they had planned, but her words echoed in Piper’s mind as she watched the women gathering around the bride. Tara had changed so much since their boarding school days, when Tara and Piper had almost been the two musketeers, united in their solidarity against the snobby bitches who liked to lord their money and connections over the farm girl and the country music girl. Tara had been a bit more fiery than her, fighting back while Piper just wanted to be left alone, in peace. But maybe she had been left alone long enough, in her own space, far too long. Maybe it was time to forge her own path like Tara had done and find out who she was and who she wanted to be.
Emma sashayed over and handed her a sheet of paper, daring her to reject the overture. “No sitting this out. You’re one of us now.”
Maybe Redemption Ranch had a plan for her too.
*
Ty grabbed a beer and headed for the round table where his brothers were already seated, along with their friend Cam Miller, a rancher from one of the other large ranches in the area. West kept darting looks toward the back room, where waitresses occasionally went in and came out, careful not to let the door swing too wide and expose what was going on. Chase seemed oddly relaxed, tilted back on the two back legs of his chair and enjoying his beer.
“She’s fine, West. No one is going to bother her, or any of them. And I highly doubt she’s going to change her mind now and take off back to civilization.”
Ty couldn’t help but tease his brother a little. After all, West had flat-out refused a bachelor party, so they had to settle for a guys’ night here at The Rock, coincidentally the same night the women were having their own gathering at the same location. They didn’t get to play poker, hire strippers—not that there were any Ty would want to hire in the area—or do anything else to get a rise out of the guy who was, for all intents and purposes, his big brother. Instead, they were sitting around a table at The Rock, like stalkers, staring at a door where his fiancée was having a way better time, and brooding.
West shot Ty a glare and went back to staring. Chase grunted. “Let him be. He won’t be happy until he has a ring on her finger and a chai
n around her ankle.”
West barely spared him a glance, only reached over and smacked him on the back of the head. Chase wobbled on the chair and slammed down on the four legs, laughing. West shook his head at him. “This coming from a guy who wanted to hustle his fiancée to Vegas for a quickie. You can’t lecture me about waiting.”
Chase shrugged and took a deep swallow of his beer. “I never said I was patient. And Hailey was more than happy to hurry the wedding along.”
Cam grunted. “People are still waiting to see if there was a reason for the rushed wedding.”
Chase clapped him on the back. “Nah, man. This is the twenty-first century. Having a baby doesn’t mean you have to get married. We just wanted to do it for A.J. and to chap West and Tara’s asses. That was a bonus.”
West shot Chase a sour look. “Ass.”
Chase saluted him with his beer. “Guilty as charged.” He shifted and studied Ty. “So, how are things with our songbird? Making any headway?”
Ty didn’t react outwardly to the fishing expedition, the lure not being appetizing enough to tempt him. He leaned back in his chair and sipped his beer. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
Cam raised his head, finally tuned into the conversation. “Is that the singer who’s staying out with you until the wedding? She sang with you here the other night. She’s pretty. Single?”
A flash of heat burned in Ty, but he struggled to keep it inside even with Chase’s shit-eating grin. Ty glared at him. “You just love to stir up shit, don’t you?”
“I got to get my kicks where I can. I’m married now. Time for a little payback anyway.”
“I helped you when you were screwing it up with Hailey. You owe me.”
Chase appeared to think for a second, then shrugged again. “Nah, I’m good.”
Zane appeared at that moment, scowling. “Evans, I don’t pay you to sit and drink. Earn your keep.”