Kacey stood up and walked over to him, her arm around Audrey. “I told her that you might be willing to sing her a couple of your hits,” she said, offering a small smile. “I didn’t realize she was such a big fan.”
A concession, he knew it. But he couldn’t place the odd rush of relief. Didn’t he want her to know?
“Be glad to,” he said to Audrey.
Audrey grinned at him, and right then, his world stopped. Sure, he recognized Kacey in the shape of her face, oval with strong cheekbones, and those freckles on her nose. Her chestnut hair seemed the right blend of Kacey’s auburn and his dark brown. And she had Kacey’s body, just a hint of curves at this age. In fact, if he stepped back, he could easily make out the girl he’d once known when he’d run off to show her the view from Swiftcurrent Lookout.
But for all that, the girl before him had his eyes. Blue and shiny, so much hope in them.
He recognized a dreamer’s expression.
He dredged up his own smile. “We’ll have a regular sing-along if that helps keep us warm.”
He turned to Kacey. “Let’s get you loaded up.”
They hiked with Nate and Jess’s diabetic patient to the chopper, and he secured Nate in, then stepped back to watch as Kacey lifted them off the hillside. The storm had moved south, but night crept up around them to meet the pewter sky. The chopper dropped away from the mountain pass, then soared across the basin before gaining altitude and disappearing into the clouds.
Ben stood alone on the mountain, the wind in his jacket, listening to the whump-whump of blades calling him a fool.
How did he expect to spend the next twenty-four hours with his daughter without telling her the truth?
Willow had fed the stove, turning the room toasty warm. He heard her in the kitchen area, humming, and when he took off his jacket and unzipped the neck on his jumpsuit, he followed the smell and found her stirring up a pot of beef ravioli procured from some opened MREs. “I found some dried oregano and garlic powder—that’ll liven it up,” Willow said as he bent over the pot and inhaled.
His stomach jumped to life, growled.
Willow grinned at him. Then, quietly, “Sorry about that, back there. I didn’t know that, well, you didn’t know.”
“I understand,” he said and fought to keep the derision from his voice. “Kacey thinks she has her reasons, but . . .” He lifted a shoulder. “She wants me to keep it to myself for now. Doesn’t want Audrey to know until—I don’t know. Maybe until she turns thirty-five?”
Willow gave him a look. “Or maybe until she can tell her? It isn’t like you’ve been around.”
“I’ve been back to Mercy Falls three times since Audrey was born. And I was here the entire summer Ian Shaw’s niece went missing. I promise, I’ve been around.”
“And that might be the problem. Because it’s not like you’re just some cowboy down on the ranch. You’re Benjamin King, chart topper, CMA host, and the lead singer of Montgomery-King. You have to admit that it couldn’t have been easy for Kacey to see you and Hollie Montgomery together.”
“We’re not together.”
“It sure looked like you two might be. And the tabloids—”
“Lied. Hollie and I flirted, sure, but she didn’t really want me. She wanted what I could give her—and frankly, the feeling was mutual.”
Okay, the smallest of lies—because early on, he’d thought they might be more. His manager, Goldie, had found him the perfect match for his husky, country tones with Hollie’s blonde, country sweet soprano. She was flirt to his ballads, flash to his cowboy persona. And he supposed she’d injected life into his nose-diving career.
Willow considered him as she stirred the ravioli. “Rumor has it that you two broke up.”
“This time, the press got it right. She’s going solo.”
“And you?”
Reeling. Regrouping.
“Helping my dad get back on his feet.”
Willow nodded. “Sierra keeps me updated. Said you moved in with him.”
“Just until I can get him to pack up and head back to Nashville with me.”
“Good luck with that. PEAK Rescue is his whole life.”
And that, thank you, he knew all too well.
He headed into the dining area and sat on one of the picnic table benches, listening to the chatter. Audrey sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands moving as she told the story of Nate’s fall and their treacherous night on the mountain.
She possessed a sort of energy, a charisma in her storytelling that had him hearkening back to his early days when he’d step up to an open mic and summon the courage to sing a song.
If not for Kacey, he might not have even opened his mouth. But she’d believed in his dreams, even if they seemed crazy and out of reach.
He’d held on to that belief despite the wounds, working the honky tonks and dives until he got his break. And even then, he’d spent most of those first five years on the road, touring, one venue after another to earn sales, fans.
Snapping pictures with mothers and daughters, not unlike Kacey and Audrey, signing autographs, and generally building a persona that paid the bills.
Making him a better man than the one he’d left behind.
Audrey finally finished talking, then looked over at Ben, grinning. “And then, all of a sudden, I realized that not only had Mom found me but she’d brought along Benjamin King!” She got up then, and walked over to him and sat down opposite him at the table. “And it’s been bugging me all day. How do you know my mom?”
Ten pairs of eyes on him, but he only saw Audrey’s—blue, piercing, shining—and he wondered if she was clinging to some idea that he and her mother might be . . . well, exactly what they were. Old sweethearts.
“My family lived in Mercy Falls, so I knew your mother growing up. We were . . . school friends.” True enough. “I came home to help my dad and got called in on the SAR team today. I didn’t know she flew helicopters.”
“Oh yeah,” Audrey said. “She got a medal a couple years ago for saving some guys in Afghanistan.”
Ben tried to wrap his head around that, and again regretted his words about Kacey serving as a soldier. Of course she was a hero.
“So you and my mom were friends, huh?” Audrey said. “Did you, like, hang out?”
Why not? He’d discovered from his press interviews that if he could give them something, they’d stop digging so deep. “Yeah. We even went hiking—this very pass. I took her up to the lookout.”
Oops. Audrey’s eyes widened, her mouth opened. “Really?”
And right then, he knew exactly what she’d been doing with Nate.
He stilled, rocked by the sudden flash of anger—something proprietary and dark.
But he couldn’t rightly reprimand her—not here, not now. But wow, it didn’t take him long to turn into a hovering father.
“Yeah. But we were just . . . well, we got lost too. So I guess—”
“You got lost?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to hear a song?”
To his great relief, the other members of the youth group rose to his suggestion. One of them got up, found a guitar next to the bookcase, a troubadour’s offering, and handed it to him.
He set it over his knee, avoiding Audrey’s blue-eyed gaze on him. He could almost hear her questions forming.
“I recorded this song about ten years ago, on my first album. You were all probably too young to know it, but it’s a song about a kid just like you, who dreams of something big.”
“I know this one!” Audrey said. “It’s ‘Mountain Song,’ right?”
A swell of warmth rose through him, choked him, and he barely pushed out his voice. “Yep.”
He wished for a banjo, a violin, or even his drummer as he played the intro riff. To his surprise, Audrey began to beat the table, in time, the other hand hitting her leg in the offbeat.
The girl—his girl—had his rhythm.
He hummed a few bars, then opened up the s
ong.
Early riser, gonna catch the sun
Gotta start ’er early, gonna get her done
Rounding up the herd, putting on the brand
Then I’ll kick off my spurs and head out with the band
By now, the kids were clapping, a few of them humming along. “C’mon, now, those who know it.”
I’ve got a Mountain Song
I’m cowboy strong
Working all day
It’s where I belong
But after the work’s done
I’m gonna sing my song
Waiting on a break, hoping on a star
Believin’ that the dreamin’s gonna get me far
I’ve got a Mountain Song
He glanced over at Audrey, and she was grinning, bobbing her head, singing along.
This was how it should be. Father and daughter, singing together in tune.
“Okay, Audrey, the next verse is all you.”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head.
“C’mon,” he said, waiting for her, humming.
“I can’t.”
“You can. Okay, let’s do it together.”
After the big game, the bonfire’s on
I got my pretty gal, doin’ nothing wrong
Wishing on stars, hoping in the night
Someday everything’s gonna work out right
Audrey mouthed the words, and he was almost there, Kacey tucked in his embrace as stars spilled into the night. His lips against her neck, the smell of autumn in her hair, the feeling that, yes, everything would be perfect.
The memory jolted him. Somehow he kept his smile. Caught up to the song.
As he finished the last verse, he looked to the darkness pressing against the window, seeing the girl he loved sitting on a high-top at the Gray Pony, her beautiful green eyes staring into his. “I believe in you, Ben. Someday, you’re going to make it.”
I find my tomorrow in the words of a song
All my dreamin’ is suddenly gone
I traded the mountain for Music Row
And everyone’s expecting me to put on a show
His voice grew soft, and the song turned into a ballad as he looked at his audience, now quiet, listening. He slowed, let the tenor that had won him two Grammies wind through them.
Somewhere back there, the mountain waits
Sorry, darlin’, but I’ll be home late
I’ve got a song to sing, the dream demands
C’mon, boys, let’s warm up the band
He let the chords nearly die out before he wound up with the final chorus.
The kids cheered as he ended with a hard, fast lick. The final notes hung in the air as he put the guitar away.
“Another one!” Audrey said, clapping.
And wow, he’d do just about anything to see that look on her face.
“It’s dinnertime,” Willow said from where she leaned on the doorframe. “I need helpers.”
A handful of teens rose to help her. Audrey got up, picked up the guitar, propped her leg on a bench, and set the guitar on her knee.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the guitar.” She thumbed the strings, one at a time. “I keep trying to get Grandpa to let me take lessons, but . . .” She lifted her shoulder.
Grandpa. Aka, Judge Robert Fairing, the man who had lied to him, kept him from meeting his amazing daughter.
Ben barely kept himself from offering to come over, have a little face-to-face chat with Judge Fairing.
“Really?” Ben said instead. He came over, sat down on the bench next to her, and positioned her hand on the neck, her fingers on the fretboard. “That’s the G chord.”
She strummed, made a face.
“You’ll get it. Keep your strum loose, a down and up pattern for right now.”
She leaned over, catching her lower lip in her teeth.
Oh my—yes, she looked just like Kacey when she did that, and his heart nearly stopped beating.
Then, she looked up at him, her expression earnest. “Do you think . . . I mean, would you . . . could you teach me?”
And then his heart did stop. Because the yearning for it, the sudden yes that swelled inside him could crush him.
This so wasn’t fair.
“Yeah, sure.” He heard the words before he thought to stop them.
Shoot. She responded before he could pull the words back, temper them with something like, “I think we need to ask your mom.”
“Oh, that’s awesome!” She rushed into the kitchen. “I can’t believe it! Benjamin King is going to teach me how to play the guitar!”
Kacey was going to kill him.
As if reading his mind, Willow looked up from where she was serving ravioli, raised an eyebrow.
He got up, walked away. He didn’t have to answer to her. Didn’t have to answer to anyone. Audrey was his daughter, thank you.
He needed air.
Grabbing his coat, Ben headed toward the door, then stepped outside into the cool breath of night. It had stopped raining, but the air caught his breath, held it in a puff, and his nose burned with the frigid wind. Overhead, however, the clouds had parted, and stars winked from the dark, velvet vault.
He hummed the song, wondering if it was possible his dreams had gotten him too far.
Or maybe, in fact, they’d somehow inexplicably led him home.
He was standing there, the wind tucking around him, chilling him, pressing him to return inside, when he saw a light wink at the top of the trail leading down to the chalet.
More lost hikers? He waited, and another light, then a third appeared. Head lamps.
They came closer, and he made them out—one dressed in a lightweight green jacket, the other two in the heavier coats of PEAK Rescue.
“Ben King—no way. Is that you?”
This from the first guy, in the green jacket, who turned off his head lamp. Without the glare, Ben recognized his face, that too-confident smile. “Jared?” Ben held out his hand for the youth group leader. “Where did you come from?”
“I made it down to the foot of the Loop Trail and met up with some campers. They had a working radio, and we called in our position to the EMS. They sent up these two troublemakers.”
He gestured to the PEAK team members behind him, and only then did Ben recognize the wry smile of Pete Brooks and the chiseled, dark expression of team leader Miles Dafoe, both former classmates at Mercy High.
“Dude!” Pete thumped him on the back. “Sam didn’t mention you were back in town.”
He refrained from saying the same to Pete, who’d spent the last few summers working as a smokejumper out of nearby Ember, Montana.
“Just here for the fun,” Ben said.
Miles grinned, held out his hand. “Glad to have you back.” He motioned to the cabin. “Kids in there?”
“Yeah.”
Jared had already gone inside. Ben could hear the cheers of the youth group as he entered. Their hero, with more stories to keep them busy.
Probably a good thing. Ben wouldn’t survive another round of digging up memories and what-ifs. However, “Did you get an update on Kacey, by any chance?”
“Yeah, Chet updated us. She landed at Kalispell Regional Medical center about an hour ago.”
He hadn’t realized he’d been worried until a band released in his chest. “I was going to hike down with the kids in the morning.”
“We were already on our way—weren’t sure what we’d find. If the weather’s good, Kacey will chopper some of the campers out in the morning,” Miles said. “But we need to get back, and pronto.”
He frowned, especially at the way Pete’s smile vanished into a dark, grim line. “Why?”
“A body washed up in the flood. Probably caught in the Mercy River somewhere, and the flooding jostled it loose. It’s pretty decayed, but . . . well, Sam is afraid that it might be the body of Dante James, the boy who disappeared three years ago . . . with Esme Shaw.”
Ian Shaw’s fresh start wo
uld begin tonight.
After three years of fruitless searching for a girl who clearly didn’t want to be found, meeting Kacey Fairing had woken him up to the hope of a new beginning.
Kacey Fairing, despite her initial cold shoulder, was exactly who Chet had portrayed. Level-headed, able to untangle chaos to do her job. When Ian had seen her beeline through the fight at the Pony to rescue the distraught girl in the corner, he knew it in his gut.
Time to let go of his grip on the past. To move on, begin anew, put the last three years behind him.
Which included releasing the reins of PEAK Rescue.
Which then made room for his brainchild of epic proportions—the one that solved his current problem of how to not say good-bye to his assistant, Sierra Rose.
Especially when she showed up this morning, bedraggled, sleep deprived from spending the night in the community center shelter—and despite it all, still looked as beautiful as she did every single day. He couldn’t believe her home had been flooded by the crest of the Mercy River.
Which meant maybe she needed a fresh start too.
He allowed himself a smile at her surprise this morning when he’d announced his plan to take her to New York with him for the Charity dinner and auction. He wasn’t sure why the idea hadn’t occurred to him earlier—Sierra, with her long black hair, her pretty hazel-green eyes, could easily fill in as the necessary plus one without making it awkward.
Without her suspecting ulterior motives. Or knowing that she could take his breath away. Something he’d had to get used to reining in over the past five years.
He glanced at Sierra standing in the back of the gala room under the sparkling chandeliers, looking, well, radiant, her paddle with his number at the ready. His secret weapon, armed with enough cash to disentangle him from any designs some random, albeit beautiful, woman might have on his company for the evening.
Just because he’d agreed to be sold off in the annual children’s charity bachelor date auction didn’t mean he couldn’t end up with the woman he really wanted to spend time with.
Ian sat on his chair sandwiched between Aaron Ellington, the CEO of some IT company, and former NFL pro Michael Stram, part of the lineup of eligible bachelors being auctioned off. Actually, not Ian, but a date-with-Ian, including a rooftop dinner—a five-course meal prepared by one of New York’s finest chefs—and an open carriage ride through Central Park.
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