by Hanna Hart
He knew Hunter had always looked forward to owning his ranch. He’d even requested the Wyoming location on his thirteenth birthday, but Phoenix didn’t know if Miranda was ready to hear any of his Hunter-related-rants quite yet.
“For the rest of us, it was just something we were expected to do,” he explained. “Don’t get me wrong; I did it. I was happy to do it. But music was my passion.”
“Sounds like you really found your calling then.”
“Yeah. Sounds like I did,” he said with affection. “Rachel was the real rancher. She was so against the move to Utah. We fought about it nonstop. Then once she got here, she turned into this horse-riding, nature-loving cowgirl. It was this incredible transformation,” he thought.
It was a beautiful thing, until it wasn’t—until their love and Rachel’s draw to the great outdoors turned into an explosion of resentment.
“What about you?” he asked. “Any hobbies?”
“I like basketball. To play, not to watch,” she corrected playfully.
“Not a sports girl?” he asked.
“Eh,” she said unenthused. “I love to read. Love true crime. I love kids.”
Phoenix felt his heart lilt at the mention of children. He looked back down to his guitar and strummed through a D-chord, listening to the soft and bitter way the music hit the air.
“Sorry,” she said bashfully, rubbing her arm.
“For what? You’re allowed to like children.”
“Right,” she said quietly, unconvinced.
“So, I’ve told you about my family, and I know you say you don’t have much to share on that front, but what do you remember? Do you remember how old you were when you were put into foster care?”
Miranda nodded. “I was put into foster care when I was three years old.”
“That’s tough,” he said.
The blonde pulled in a relaxed breath. “Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” she said, her tone betraying her smile.
“Do you remember anything about your parents?”
“No. Not really.” She shook her head. “Flashes of faces. Sometimes certain smells or weather can catch me just right, and I get a hint of this old life I had, but I don’t even know if it’s real. I could have just imagined it.”
“They didn’t sign the paperwork? Nothing like that?” he asked.
“I was once told that my mother was being monitored by CPS and eventually, they ruled her unfit, and I became a ward of the state, but who’s to say if that was even true?”
“You never asked to see any files?” he asked. “You were never curious about where you came from?”
“No way,” she said emphatically. “I figure if they didn’t want me, then I don’t want them. There’s no point in finding them now, showing up on their doorstep and trying to convince them that I’m this great person that they missed out on.” She gave a sad laugh and said, “I mean, look at me.”
Phoenix looked her over. She sat on the couch in an oversized pullover that she had stretched over her crossed legs. Her face was bare of any makeup, and she had her blonde hair pulled up into a gigantic messy bun. There was a softness about Miranda that he liked. She was loud sometimes, sure. Overly chatty, which he wasn’t completely unfamiliar with. But with those overbearing qualities came a sweet sensitivity that he appreciated.
“I’ll admit, I don’t know you that well,” he said gingerly, “But you seem pretty great to me.”
Chapter Eight
Miranda
When Miranda first accepted the responsibly of being Phoenix Brooks PR-princess, she thought it would be weird. She thought it would feel phony interacting with him or that he would be this stern, starchy professional. But in reality, it wasn’t weird at all.
The nights they spent together were fun, actually. Though he didn’t show it at the ranch or in the media, Phoenix had a lighthearted side to him. He was quiet, sure, but she seemed to break through his barrier and even got him laughing on a few occasions.
Miranda was well-versed in moving from house to house, given the time she’d spent in foster care. Because of this, living in Phoenix’s house didn’t even feel all that strange. After the first awkward night, she felt right at home and had quickly familiarized herself with the coffee cabinet and snack drawers.
The only thing the two of them didn’t see eye-to-eye on, so far anyway, was Phoenix’s request that she leave her job at the ranch.
“I’m just not sure if it’s the best thing for you to be working at the ranch anymore,” he said one night as they sat on the couch together.
“What? Why not?” she said in surprise. The thought that she might have to leave her job hadn’t even been a glimmer of a thought in her mind.
“I think it might look inappropriate if I’m dating one of my employees. Being in a position of authority over you might make it look like I’m—”
“Using your powers for evil,” Miranda nodded. “I get it.”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
Miranda raised both brows and looked down at the glass in her hands, considering whether she had a right to be indignant about losing her job when Phoenix was offering her a million dollars.
Still, she shrugged and said, “Believe it or not, I love working at the ranch.”
“Cleaning?” he asked, sounding a little too harsh.
“Don’t judge!”
He raised his hands humbly and said, “I wasn’t. It’s just surprising, that’s all.”
“Yes. I like cleaning. It makes me feel calm and collected. And I like working with Birdie.”
Phoenix smirked. “All you ever tell me is how different you and Birdie are.”
“I know, but that’s what I love about her. She makes me a softer, sweeter person.”
He nodded. “And what do you do for her?”
Miranda gave a mischievous smile and bragged, “I like to believe that I give her a harder edge. You know? Remind her that the world isn’t always puppies and rainbows.”
Phoenix chuckled. “Sounds balanced.”
To Miranda’s surprise, Birdie had become something of a fixture in her life. The two were so different and so destined not to get along that both of them fought for the friendship. Just the other day, Birdie had told Miranda how she had looked up missing person videos online of her own free will! And, while Miranda would never admit this to anyone but Birdie, her new favorite thing was to curl up with a blanket on the couch, a hot tea in her hand, and read through overly-dramatic romance novels one after the other.
“I’ll miss her, that’s all,” she said with a shrug. “I feel like I would be letting down ‘the team’ if I just stopped working with her.”
“I’ll figure something out for you,” Phoenix said dismissively.
“Both of us?”
“If you want to work with Birdie and she’s happy moving, then sure. I can make it happen. In the meantime, let this be your last day working at the ranch, alright?”
“Okay,” she agreed.
Miranda could concede that Phoenix had a point about not dating an employee, but she suspected that his decision to have her stop working at the ranch had more to do with her position as a maid than anything else.
The Rockstar and the Maid may have made for a great beach read, but it probably wouldn’t be the sexy tabloid fodder she was looking for.
Birdie, however, didn’t see it that way. That morning, after Miranda told her it would be her last day, Birdie spun around on her heel in shock and exclaimed, “I don’t understand; what’s happening? You’re just leaving? This is so sudden!”
“Look,” Miranda bit her lip nervously and continued tying up the vacuum cord. “Phoenix and I took an unexpected turn, and we’re seeing each other now.”
“What?” Birdie’s brows shot up, wrinkling her otherwise smooth and creamy pale forehead. “I thought you said he just wanted to be friends!”
“Yeah, well, apparently he wanted more than friendship,” she shrugged.
Birdie didn’t
even pretend to keep working. She folded her bottom lip over in an exaggerated pout and whined, “And so now you’re quitting?”
“Don’t worry! We’ll still see each other all the time.”
Birdie reached out and weakly pushed her co-worker. “We’d better,” she said sadly. “I know it’s only been a month but you’re one of my favorite people ever.”
“We’ll hang out all the time. I swear,” Miranda laughed. “Now come on, help me pack up.”
The brunette sighed and began stashing their spray bottles back into their cleaning cart. “How did all of this happen with Phoenix?” she asked.
“We spent a couple of nights talking and we just hit it off,” Miranda said, hoping it sounded casual.
“Mrs. I-don’t-like-country-music!”
Miranda laughed and raised a finger, insisting, “And nothing about that has changed!”
Birdie smiled, and the two of them continued picking up in the room. When they were done, they began packing up to go to the next lodge for cleaning.
“Is that why you’re leaving the ranch?” Birdie asked, then clarified, “Because of Phoenix?”
“Something like that. The whole boss-employee-affair thing is so played out, you know?” she said with a wink.
“Right,” Birdie said skeptically. “What happens if it doesn’t work out? Why give up your job for someone you just met?”
“Something tells me we’re both pretty serious about each other,” she said.
“What?” Birdie didn’t hide her expression of shock. “You were the one who said people can’t fall in love after a month of dating! And you’ve known him, what? Two weeks?”
“And once again, you have proven me wrong about love and the ways of the world,” Miranda chuckled. “Happy?”
She thought Birdie would play along—maybe even use it as an opportunity to gloat. Instead, she went deadly silent.
“What’s wrong?” Miranda asked.
“I just hope you’re being careful, Miranda. His reputation—”
Miranda plugged her ears and sung out, “La-la-la-la-la!”
Birdie couldn’t help but smile at the action. She pulled one of Miranda’s arms down and asked, “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to hear about his reputation! I know, I know. He went on some binge-drinking session and got caught by the paparazzi. But I don’t want to hear about what the tabloids have to say about him,” Miranda insisted.
She had spent her whole life having a chart of her good and bad deeds given to families and caretakers and was sick of people judging other people by a record of something they did when they were at their lowest low.
She wouldn’t do the same thing to Phoenix.
“You seriously haven’t looked up anything about him?” Birdie asked.
“I refuse! The only thing I want to know about him is what he chooses to tell me. I just want this to be a normal relationship.”
“Normal? He’s not just ‘some guy,’ Miranda.”
“Meaning?” she asked.
Birdie narrowed her brows. “Meaning, he’s not someone you just casually date. You do realize that dating him comes with his world, right? He’s made no secret that he’s still carrying a torch for his ex.”
The brunette probably wasn’t wrong. The Rachel-memorabilia around the house was overwhelming. “To be fair, it still hurts me to think about my ex, but it doesn’t mean I want to jump back into a relationship with him. It takes time to heal from stuff, but it doesn’t mean that you should stop moving forward.”
Birdie nodded. “I get that, but what about the rumors of drugs and—”
“Don’t! Want! To! Hear! It!” Miranda enunciated.
“Just be careful, okay? If you’re ever seen out with him, it’s going to be this crazy media coverage, and I don’t want it to come as a shock to you.”
Miranda snorted. “Do people seriously care that much?”
“Trust me. Do not be seen in public with this guy unless you’re serious about being with him.”
The two of them pulled up to the Riverbend Lodges, a set of ten rooms inside the beautiful white stone and wood barn-style lodge. The rooms were each fitted with wood-burning river rock fireplaces, glass doors, and handcrafted lodgepole queen beds with plush down comforters.
As they began stripping the massive amount of bedding from the room, Birdie perked up with a meek tone and said, “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“No,” Miranda said absent-mindedly.
Despite answering her question, Birdie looked at Miranda expectantly. She looked at her for so long that Miranda began to laugh.
“You don’t believe me?” she asked, then hopped across the room and jumped on Birdie’s back, hugging her from behind. “Birdie, you’re like the mom I never had, which I realize is a weird thing to say. But you’re like my lecturing mama, trying desperately to keep me out of trouble. Always cautious, but always laced with love.”
Birdie giggled, trying desperately to keep her friend balanced on her back. “That is just about the cutest thing anyone has ever said to me!”
As it turned out, Birdie was right about the public being an integral part of her relationship with Phoenix.
She understood that this was the point of them getting together in the first place, but the reality of it shook her to her core.
Phoenix asked Miranda to dinner that night. The two of them went to Vi—an Asian fusion restaurant downtown. The media had gotten wind that Phoenix was going to be spotted out in public.
She and the country music star pulled up in a black car with tinted windows, and when they emerged from the back seats, they were met with a barrage of white camera flashes. Bursts of light shot off, one after the other, and Miranda felt dizzy. She was overwhelmed and shaking as they walked toward the entrance of the restaurant, but Phoenix didn’t miss a beat.
He held his arm down to help her out of the car, and as they walked, he set a steadying hand on her lower back.
Once inside, they were taken to a private room in the back of the restaurant, away from the other paying customers.
The stares Phoenix received when walked into a crowded place—restaurant, grocery store, the ranch—were unmistakable. There was admiration and awe, though whether for his country career or his massively successful family ranch, Miranda couldn’t be sure.
“Are you alright?” he asked when they were finally situated at their table.
“Yeah. I think I just need a second,” she said with a breath, pushing her hand against her chest. She could feel her heart pulsing against her palm and couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Phoenix to try to run a simple errand.
“That’s what it’s like,” he said.
“All of the time?”
“It depends on where you go,” he explained. “Some places in LA are known for celebrity sightings. Some musicians will go there just because they know there will be press. Sometimes it doesn’t matter where you go—coffee shop, burger joint, five-star restaurant—they’ll find you.”
She nodded and accepted a menu from their waitress. “Does it ever bother you?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “When I first got signed, I was pretty shy. I was always a quiet kid, you know? So, to have people always in your face, asking you questions and commenting on how you look, it was overwhelming.” He paused. “But then I started to like it.”
Miranda watched him with interest, then frowned. She knew some people loved the limelight, but she hadn’t expected Phoenix to be one of them.
“It meant that I was doing something right with my career. If people wanted to see me, it meant they loved my music.”
“And now?” she asked.
“Now I hate it,” he said, and she instantly felt the rock in her stomach settle. “Notoriety is good when things in your life are going right, but the moment you make a mistake, everyone is cheering for you to sink further down. But it’s a necessary evil.”
Chapter Nine
Ph
oenix
With the signing of a new contract and an agreement for another three records, Phoenix’s writer’s block had lifted. He’d spent days going through old notebooks of songs he’d written as a teenager and during his first years at the ranch and on the road and found a couple of songs that were worth revisiting.
They were painful to read at times. Reliving the ephemeral feelings of falling in love with Rachel and knowing the bitterness that the whole experience would bring.
Phoenix had also been writing new songs and was starting to get a proper feel for what he wanted his record to be like.
Usually, when he wrote, he would go into a self-induced hibernation. He didn’t talk to his friends, family, or even Rachel all that much until his process was complete and felt he had emptied his soul of everything little feeling it had been holding onto.
Rachel told him it made him difficult to talk to.
“You say what’s on your mind in songs, but you never say them to me,” she’d said.
Maybe she was right. Maybe he didn’t give her enough time or know how to communicate as well as she did, but Phoenix didn’t want to write run-of-the-mill songs.
He knew other artists who wrote albums by going into the studio and working with a producer and perhaps another writer, writing on the spot and recording the song the same day. They would pump out songs this way until the record was complete. It was efficient, sure. But it had no heart.
If keeping his emotions bottled up until they all came spilling out through his guitar was the way for him to write music that mattered, then that was what he was going to do.
At the beginning of their relationship, Rachel loved hearing him work through and process his songs. But near the end, she always let him have his space. She understood that he needed it.
Miranda did not.
After two days of Phoenix locking himself away in his home-studio and seeing her only in the mornings and evenings, she came traipsing into his studio without hesitation.
It annoyed him at first, but she brought an energy to the room that made him feel comfortable.