Bobby’s grin is one of relief. He’s not much on secrets, and the surest way to spread a story is to tell him. If you want it to make the go-round even faster, tell him not to tell a soul. Boom . . . whole town’ll know in record time.
It’s not a flaw, though. He’s just a ‘what you see is what you get’ kinda guy, so he’s transparent about everything.
I look to Brody in shock. “You planned a birthday party for me?” I ask, my lower lip trembling.
“Well, yeah,” he says, looking totally uncomfortable. “It’s a big birthday for you. Seems appropriate that your big” —he pauses to look at Bruce and Bobby— “well, that your biggest brother should buy your first official beer.”
I can’t help but grin. He’s well aware I drink on occasion, and he even stocks the fruity wine coolers I prefer when we have bonfires in the summer. But this will be a first. A beer with my brothers, bought from Hank himself.
The even bigger deal is that he planned something for me.
With Sophie. Sophie Bennett.
“Thank you,” I say, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek.
He rocks on his feet, heels . . . toes . . . heels . . . toes. “There’s, uh, there’s more.”
I lift my brows and clasp my hands together. “Brody Tannen, did you get me a new goat?” For some girls, that’d probably be the worst present ever, but for me? I’d be happier than a pig in slop to get a new goat.
Country girl, party of one . . . right here!
He smiles, knowing that I’d love that. “Well, I did say we’d add to the herd, but that’s not your gift. Sophie helped me invite a few people, get a cake and balloons, and some other stuff. We’re not just eating and drinking at Hank’s. This is a legit party. For you.”
I hear the record screech as he speaks. “Invite a few folks?” I look to Bruce and Bobby, who have remarkably straight faces. I narrow my eyes at Bobby, knowing he’s the weak link of information spilling.
But Brody gives in first. “She said that she needed to invite your girls night out group. Her, Katelyn, her sister, and then she said something about the girl at the resort you work with in the gift shop?” I nod like a bobblehead, excitement pouring into my veins and waking me up better than a cup of coffee or sugar-doused pancake ever could.
“And Doc, of course.” I nod again, waiting and hoping. I cross my fingers behind my back.
Brody sighs, unable to hold it back. “And the Bennetts. Felt like we should invite Mama Louise after how nice she’s been, which means the boys are coming. They said they’d tell Luke. Unless you cut him loose after a shitty weekend away?”
His hope is real, but even he knows the chances of that are slim to none.
I squeal, literally out loud, like a pig demanding some dinner. I jump into Brody’s arms and he catches me easily. I pepper his cheeks with kisses. “Thank you, Brody! I swear, you’re gonna grow to like him.”
He grumbles, setting me down. “Let’s eat some pancakes. We’ve got work to do if we’re cutting out early to head to town.”
Brody’s gruff response isn’t the turnaround I’d hoped the party was a sign of, but it’s progress, like Luke said.
Baby steps, one by one.
He’ll come around.
* * *
Hank’s is in full swing. Everyone I know and care for is here, plus most of the folks in our rural area because no one is passing up a birthday party with free cake, and word gets around fast, even in our remote region.
We’ve eaten dinner, my favorite chicken fried steak and ‘taters sitting in my full belly, and I stood on the bar, a huge no-no, to raise my first official beer to cheers from the crowd. Hank had shaken his head when I’d chugged the whole thing in one go. Might be my first official, but it ain’t my first by a long shot. And I’ve been spun around the floor more times than I can count by just about every guy here, even Hank himself, who I’ve never seen cut a rug.
Almost as importantly as the celebration, Brody and Luke haven’t come to blows. Yet. Though the glares they’re tossing at each other are damn near deadly.
“Holy shit, is that Roxy?” I hear someone exclaim. I turn to see Sophie’s sister-in-law walking in, followed closely by Jake, her brother. Though Sophie doesn’t tell many folks, her sister-in-law is famous. Like of the one-name variety, hence the shock in the loud question.
She comes up and gives me a hug, telling me happy birthday, and Jake does the same. I’m happily surprised to see her. Her tour schedule doesn’t always allow her to hang out with us, but I always enjoy her company when she comes to our girls’ night out get-togethers. She doesn’t understand our love of farm animals, but she’s as real as they come.
“Think I could do a song for you?”
A bark of laughter escapes from my chest. “Uhm, you’re the Roxy. I think you can do whatever the hell you wanna do,” I joke, “and I know I’d sure appreciate it even if there’s someone in here who wouldn’t.”
I glance around, my brow fake-furrowed as I look for a nonexistent Roxy-hater. We both know that every single person in this place would love to hear her sing.
She grins and points a stiletto-tipped navy-blue nail my way, grinning hugely. “Sassy bitch. That’s why I like you.”
She pats Jake on the chest, letting him know she’s fine to mingle with the masses, but he nods at a guy in a black T-shirt who strategically moves to follow Roxy. Security. I can’t imagine needing that just to get a beer at a friend’s birthday party.
Luke appears at my side, offering a handshake to Jake. “I know Sophie passed along my appreciation, but thanks for helping me surprise my woman. She’s a tough cookie, but I think the delicious dinner you arranged really put me over the edge with her.”
He winks at me, knowing full well we’d spent the better part of that fancy-schmancy dinner wishing we were back at the hotel eating fast food so we could get into bed sooner.
“No problem, glad I could help.” Jake’s pretty lowkey too. If Sophie hadn’t told me, I would’ve never known that he’s some big-wig with more money than God and part-owner of one of the fanciest nightclubs in existence. I like that about him.
“Does anyone mind if I sing a little song for my friend’s birthday?” Roxy’s voice comes through the speakers. I look over, and it’s probably the smallest stage she’s ever graced with her presence. More of a raised step than a true stage, to tell the truth. But she looks right at home, especially when everyone starts cheering.
“This one’s for you, Shayanne. Thanks for introducing me to bull fries. Never would’ve thought I’d like those.” Her face screws up in disgust. “But you were right. Drop anything in batter to fry it up, and it’s edible. Might not be delicious, but it’s edible-ish.” She grins, raising an invisible glass, and everyone follows her lead, beer bottles filling the air. “May you have many more years of being right, trying new things, and having every wish come true.”
Her sultry voice fills the small bar. It’s one of her pop songs. Hank would never put it on his jukebox, but it’s perfect and beautiful. Luke asks Jake to excuse us, and he sways with me on the dance floor. No fancy tricks this time. We just let the music and atmosphere wash over us.
“All for you, honey. Hope you feel the love because Sophie and Brody really went all out to make you feel special. Happy birthday.” His voice is breathy, just for me, and then he quiets so we can hear Roxy sing.
All around us, couples rock back and forth in each other’s arms, filling the floor to get a better view of the famous pop star. She holds the last note longer than should be humanly possible, and applause erupts.
She smiles and dips her chin, her mass of curls bouncing forward to cover her face. When she looks back up, her cheeks are pink with happiness. “Thank you. Now, I’d thought about singing Happy Birthday, but I was informed by a little birdie . . . ahem, Sophie . . . that someone was already doing that. Bobby?”
I gasp, turning to watch Bobby approach the stage.
He sings and plays guitar,
we all know that. But somewhere along the way, it became his thing. He’ll play in the barn or out in the fields, and I know Bruce hears him sometimes when they’re working. But he never wants us to come to Hank’s when he does open mic nights and rarely sings around the house anymore. His humming seems pitch perfect, so I don’t know what his deal is, but I know that him singing for me tonight is a big fucking deal.
A gift from him to me.
Tears burn my eyes as I smile at him and mouth, “Thank you.”
He smiles back and sits down on a stool someone has stuck up on the stage. He gets his guitar situated and strums a couple of chords. “Happy birthday, Shayanne. I love you and hope you get what you’re wishing for.”
I choke, knowing he’s talking about me and Luke, and me and Brody. He’s still following Brody’s edict and isn’t sure if Luke is as good as he seems to be, but tonight, at least, he’s willing to wish for my happiness, whatever form that takes.
He sings the basic Happy Birthday song that’s been sung for years, but with his voice, it takes on new life. Holy shit, Bobby can saaaaang!
His voice the last time I heard him was good but occasionally broken by puberty cracks that I know embarrassed him. Now, his voice is smoky whiskey over gravel as he plays slowly, cutting the song’s peppy tempo by more than half. Even Roxy seems surprised, if her raised brows are any sign. She moves to Bobby’s side, and with silent agreement, she harmonizes with him.
Normally, people will start to sing along with the birthday song. But no one makes a sound, not even so much as breathing to break the spell Bobby and Roxy are weaving with the simplest of tunes. They sing it through twice, the second time more runs and ‘oohs’ than words, but it’s absolutely beautiful.
When they close the final note, the place explodes in applause. I make my way to the stage just as Bobby finishes helping Roxy step down. I tackle him in a hug, crushing his guitar between us, and he laughs. “Don’t hurt Betty!” When I pull back, he’s holding his guitar like I might’ve injured it with my attack.
“Thank you, Bobby. That was amazing.”
He looks wide-eyed. “No shit, Sis. I mean, happy birthday and all, but did you see me fucking sing with Roxy?” I love that he was willing to sing for me, and I love even more that in making a wish come true for me, one I didn’t even know I had, he had one come true too. “Hell, I could die a happy man, right now!”
Jake appears at Roxy’s elbow and overhears. “I feel the same way every time I look at her, man.” He could be exaggerating, but the look of adoration on his face says it’s the God’s honest truth.
Next, Sophie and Brody appear with a cake big enough to feed the whole city. It’s lit up with candles that are throwing sparks like the 4th of July and seem likely to set off Hank’s smoke detectors. This time, everyone sings, and I close my eyes, making a wish for peace in my family . . . my whole family, Luke and my brothers and me.
I blow out the candles, making sure each one is smoking before I breathe again.
Chapter 28
Shayanne
I’m vacuuming the living room when I hear a loud knock on the front door. That’s weird. I mean, the front gate opens automatically unless we set it to lockdown mode, but most folks will call before showing up all the way out here. We’re not really ‘in the neighborhood’ for anyone except the Bennetts.
Maybe it’s Mama Louise?
She’s come over a few times since Daddy’s passing with casseroles or pies, along with a kind smile to check on us. I feel like she’s kind of adopted us, even though we’re all grown.
I turn off the vacuum, leaving it in the middle of the floor to open the door, a smile already on my face as I wonder what delicious thing she ‘made too much of’ today.
Except it’s not Mama Louise. And there is definitely not a casserole or smile to be seen.
Instead, there are five guys standing on my porch. One to the front and four others standing a step back. They’re all big and tough-looking, but in a citified way. The man in front is wearing a black turtleneck and has his hair slicked back into a ponytail that’s laying over his shoulder. He slips his sunglasses up onto his head, revealing eyes as dark as his shirt.
“Can I help you?” I say, my manners automatic even as I’m thinking what the fuck? Irrationally, I’m glad for the screen door between us, though it’d be as useful as an umbrella in a tornado if they make any sort of move. I’m also aware that the shotgun we keep for coyotes around our herd is way over on the other side of the living room above the fireplace and that Murphy is upstairs in Bruce’s bedroom, asleep on the rug. Not that the old dog would be much help against this crew.
Turtleneck guy bares his teeth. I’d guess he thinks it’s a smile, but it makes the hairs at the base of my neck stand up. “Yes, Miss Tannen. My name is Edward Franks. I’m a friend of your father’s. I wanted to pay my respects. So sorry for your loss.”
The words are right, and ones expressed endlessly in the days after Daddy died. But something about this Edward guy is all wrong.
“Thank you. How did you know him?” I reply warily. A dangerous thought is taking shape in my gut about who these guys are, about what they want.
“Oh, old friends. Nothing he would’ve shared, I’m afraid,” he says, not answering. “Is Brody around?” He looks left and right, and I realize that his every word is designed to make sure I realize that he knows more about me than I do him.
I hold up a finger, playing dumb. “Just one second. I’ll give him a call.” I shut the door gently, even though I want to slam it and make a run for the back door. I grab my phone and dial Brody’s number.
He finally picks up on the third ring. “What’s up, Shayanne?” His voice is chirpy, happier than I’ve heard him in weeks. There’s still a thread of uncertain tension between us over Luke, but it’s been better-ish.
“Brody, get to the house NOW,” I hiss. “Some of Daddy’s friends stopped by. An Edward Franks?”
“Shit,” he says, not sounding surprised, and I wonder how much of Daddy’s activities Brody was aware of. “I’ll get Brutal and Bobby. We’ll be right there. Shay—” he says warningly.
“Just get up here,” I snarl, fight or flight warring inside me along with fear and anger. Thinking fast, I text Luke too, figuring some backup might not be a bad thing.
Need help at my house. 9-1-1. NOW.
I’ve barely hit Send when the door opens behind me. Embarrassingly, I squeak like a mouse and Edward’s grin is one of pure delight, predatory and evil.
He steps inside, his goons following him.
I step back, mentally measuring the distance from my feet to the back door and finding my odds slim. Instead, I find some backbone. My voice is firm as I tell him, “Brody will be up in just a second. Now, I don’t want a mess on my clean floor, so I’ll just set y’all up with some tea on the porch. Scooch!”
I gesture to the vacuum and then make a shooing motion, pointedly telling him to step back outside, but he just flashes that piranha smile again.
“We’ll wait inside, if it’s all the same. It’s quite chilly out there.”
It’s a standoff, our eyes staring into one another. On one side, you’ve got five feet of fury, on the other six feet of slickness . . . with backup.
Not fair.
What must be minutes later but feels much longer, I hear the growl of Brody’s ATV. He was in the back pasture with the cows today, so he must’ve opened the throttle wide to be here already. The engine quiets and I hear the farm truck too.
The back door opens and my three brothers rush in.
Edward drops our staredown, but I don’t feel like the winner when he looks to Brody and says, “Now that we’re all here, there are things we should discuss.”
Chapter 29
Luke
The ringing chime of Shay’s text automatically brings a smile to my face, but that evaporates when I see her message.
What the fuck?
In an instant, my mind runs away with
possibilities, each worse than the last. Whatever the hell is going on, Shayanne needs me. 9-1-1 makes me think it’s bad, and I take a quick minute to grab the walkie-talkie off my desk. We all have cell phones, but with spotty reception out here, the walkies are more dependable when time is of the essence. Like now.
“Guys? You there? It’s important,” I say, pressing the button.
“Yep,” Mark replies. I don’t wait for James’s response, hoping they’re together in the pasture.
“Shay just texted me, ‘Help, 9-1-1.’”
I don’t even get the chance to ask as Mark’s reply cuts through. “On my way, meet you at their house. James too.”
I run out of the barn toward my truck only to find Mama sitting in the driver’s seat, revving the engine. Out the open window, she yells, “Get in!”
I don’t think, just jump in, and she’s off like a demon, my engine screaming at the mistreatment.
Mama’s not the best driver, but she’s not the worst either. But right now, she’s got the pedal pressed down hard as she skips the long-way-around paved road between our home and the Tannens’, instead taking the crow’s-flight route. She’s bouncing over the dips and bumps of the grassy pasture, getting us there as fast as possible.
I grip the oh-shit handle over my head with one hand and the dash with the other. “Mama! Be careful!” I yell.
“Be ready,” is all she replies. I follow her line of sight to see a big, shiny, black Suburban sitting in the grass in front of Shay’s house. It looks like a foreshadowing of doom and my gut drops.
Mama slams on the brakes, skidding to a stop. I’m out before she’s even got it in park. Somehow managing to time it just right, Mark and James are dismounting from their horses a few yards away. They must have jumped the fence between the back pastures . . . crazy bastards.
Mark’s eyes question me, but I have no answers. Instead, we go barreling in like a herd of country boys do.
Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch Page 28