The Nanny Arrangement (Country Blues)

by Rachel Harris

  “Yes, ma’am,” they both murmured, sneaking another glance and fighting back smiles.

  “Relax, honey. They’ll be fine. They have each other.” Another bus cranked to life, and Bill extended a hand toward Deacon. “Watch out for my girl, huh?”

  “Yes, sir.” As the man tugged him into a one-armed hug, the pressure in Deacon’s throat grew tight. He coughed to clear it, then turned to Hannah and caught her grumbling to the sky. He bit back a laugh.

  If there was one thing his best friend hated, it was appearing helpless. Even back in high school, when she’d genuinely needed his help dealing with the jerks in their class, she had never wanted him to think she was weak. In a way, he understood. She was a fighter, and it was one of the things he adored about her. But what Hannah never understood was that he hadn’t protected her because he didn’t think she could do it herself. He’d protected her because he wanted to. Because it had made him feel worthwhile to look after the first person who’d ever truly believed in him.

  Lois stepped up, cradling Hannah’s cheek and reaching for Deacon’s hand. “Take care of each other.” She stared pointedly at Hannah before turning to him with a smile. “Max, too. Call us as often as you can and take lots of pictures. I want to feel like I was with you in every city.”

  She yanked them both into a fierce double hug and didn’t let go until Bill tugged her away with a gruff laugh. “Stop blubbering, woman. You’re killing the man’s street cred.”

  “Like I have any to begin with.” Forcing a laugh, Deacon dragged a hand across his face. Why was this so damn hard? He’d said good-bye before. Plenty of times, if you counted his dad leaving, Krista fleeing, Hannah traveling, and when he himself moved to Louisiana. Yet somehow, things felt different this time. Like something important was ending, and a new beginning had arrived.

  Falling in step beside Hannah, Deacon walked the Fishers to their car. They got in, and immediately Lois rolled down the window, telling them again how much she loved them. Loved. It was still so crazy to hear.

  The engine turned over and Hannah sniffled. Like muscle memory, Deacon pulled her in front of him, her back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around her. Needing comfort almost as much as he wanted to comfort her. As she snuggled closer, he kissed the top of her head, and the sweet candy-coated scent of her soap flooded his nose. They stood like that while her parents drove away, watching the fading red taillights until they rounded the corner. Being there for each other and breathing the same air. It was a luxury he hadn’t had while she’d been in Paris.

  Hannah latched onto his forearms and laid her head back against him, releasing a heavy sigh. As the tension left her shoulders, a sudden rush of warmth flooded Deacon’s chest.

  He’d missed this. The way his world slowed down when Hannah was around. How she gave him a sense of purpose in the quiet. In twenty-five years, there were only ever two things he was proud of in his life: being a father to his son, and being Hannah’s friend. The two of them believed in him, and having them both on tour, Deacon felt invincible.

  That extended contract was his.

  Chapter Three

  Hannah bobbed her head and swung her hips. “Muffins are health-y,” she sang out as she stirred the batter of delicious goodness in her favorite mixing bowl. “Muffins are yumm-y. That’s why muffins rock-my-world.”

  Peering over her shoulder, she winked at Max and Lizzie, who wore a matching set of grins at the kitchenette table, and then she really got into it. Humming the impromptu tune, she added a little shoulder shimmy and a quick dip, much to the toddlers’ delight.

  “Muffins are health-y,” she repeated, this time with a falsetto. “Muffins are yumm-y. That’s why muffins rock-my-world.”

  The children giggled and clapped their tiny hands, and Hannah executed a bow. Thank goodness the tour bus was pretty much empty. In her experience, adults rarely appreciated her bouts of silly dances and made-up songs. Mostly, they stared at her with questioning looks on their faces as if trying to place her home planet—or worse, they offered forced smiles.

  But kids, man. Kids spoke her language.

  Scooping the goopy batter into the prepared muffin pans, she told the children, “These will be ready in about twenty minutes, which gives us just enough time to watch Little Einsteins!”

  Max whooped with a fist high in the air, and sweet Lizzie gave her a gummy smile, both of which probably had more to do with her overly enthusiastic voice than it did with her programming choice, but she grabbed the remote anyway. In general, Hannah wasn’t the biggest fan of children’s television—the twaddle tended to outweigh the good—and she preferred the kids in her care to use their imaginations or play outside. But the three of them were stuck on a bus for the foreseeable future, there were a few good options out there, and Little Einsteins happened to be one she genuinely enjoyed. Heck, she was known to watch it a time or two when children weren’t even around.

  Which probably explains why I’m still single, she thought with a chuckle.

  Oh, well. If a love of animated singing children and strange-colored pets who live in a house filled with talking objects were the reason Hannah was unlucky in love, then consider her a young Old Maid. The truth was, she actually liked who she was these days, and it’d taken her far too long to get to this point. Being inauthentic would be a step backward. Besides, was it really too much to ask for a man to fall in love with her and her quirks?

  A certain long-limbed, brooding fiddle player, for example?

  Hannah sighed and finished filling the second pan. Once the dough was piled high, she popped the treats in the oven and licked the sticky blueberry mixture from her fingertips. It tasted like childhood, like her mama’s kitchen, and Hannah glanced at the empty bunks, wishing she could send a batch over to Deacon on the other bus. Blueberry muffins were a favorite of his, too, and it couldn’t hurt to remind him of their connection.

  Unfortunately, after the crew had finished loading the luggage onboard, and before they took off for Providence, Arabella had called a band meeting. There wouldn’t be time for one once they arrived, and they’d be driving the rest of today. Tomorrow’s schedule was tight, too, with an early morning sound check, followed by media interviews, a meet and greet with fans, and of course, their first performance, so it made sense to spend the travel time this afternoon going over logistics, the set list, and maybe even do a few acoustic run-throughs. Obviously, they couldn’t do that here, on the bus affectionately dubbed “Kid Central.” But Hannah had hoped to get a jump start on Operation Joie de Vivre.

  In sync with her thoughts, the peppy theme song rolled through the speakers, “We’re going on a mission… Start the countdown!”

  Hannah grinned and snuck a peek at her charges. Max and Lizzie were cuddled in front of the television, beneath a makeshift blanket fort, and art supplies lay scattered on the table. With the smell of blueberry muffins in the air, the bus already felt like home.

  Placing the dirty dishes in the sink, Hannah turned on the faucet and began cleaning up. She wiggled her hips, the little ditty from earlier firmly entrenched in her brain. “That’s why muffins rock-my-world.”

  “I know I’m always down for a good muffin.”

  Water sprayed Hannah in the face as she jumped up and lost her grip on the spigot. Sputtering, she slapped the water off and grabbed for a tea towel as Sherry looked on with amusement from the hallway.

  Smiling, the other woman ruffled her daughter’s hair and moseyed over to where Hannah stood. “Something smells delicious,” she said, bending down to peer into the oven. “And since I woke up hearing a song about muffins, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that’s what this is.”

  Hannah groaned. “You heard that? I’m sorry if we were too loud. I really thought the door to the back bedroom would muffle us more.”

  “Oh, it did,” Sherry replied, standing tall with a wink. “But I’m a pregnant lady and you’re making something scrumptious. There’s no way in hell this baby wa
s letting me sleep through that. Now, scoot.” She bumped Hannah over with her hip and flipped the faucet back on. “You cook, I clean. That’s how I roll. Ask my sister, I can’t cook for crap, but dishes? They may not be my specialty, but at least we know I can’t burn them.”

  She grinned over her shoulder as Hannah fidgeted with her shirtsleeve, unsure of what to do with herself. Luckily, Sherry had no such hang-ups. She squirted soap on a sponge and set to work, talking all the while.

  “I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate you coming out on tour with us,” Sherry told her. “This pregnancy is kicking my butt. I swear, I don’t remember being this tired with Lizzie, but now it’s like all I want to do is sleep. Sleep and eat. I told Tyler earlier that I felt bad, us taking the master bedroom and leaving you and Deacon in the roosts with the kids, but at least I won’t be in your way when I crash out.”

  Hannah nodded, still feeling awful for waking up a pregnant lady, and Sherry tilted her head back. “Seriously, stop it. If you made a batch of muffins and withheld them from me, then you could be apologetic, but for whipping up a snack? If anything, I should be thanking you. Trust me, no one wants to hang around me if I go too long between meals. You might lose a finger.”

  Hannah laughed. “Well, I guess in that case, you’re welcome. Who am I to come between a hungry mama and a craving?”

  “Exactly,” Sherry said with a grin. “And later on, when I knock out again, feel free to be as loud as you want. I sleep like the dead. Unless food’s involved, once my head hits the pillow even Nate couldn’t wake me up.”

  A memory of the high-energy drummer running around with the kids during their Fourth of July party flashed in her mind. At the time, Deacon had described it as typical Nate, which Hannah soon discovered to be accurate. The man was restless, a flirt, and a total prankster, not to mention charming to boot. He’d certainly make life on the road less boring—but secretly, she was glad he was sleeping on the other bus, along with Miles, Charlie, and Arabella. Even though Nate was harmless, she never knew how to respond to his antics. She’d always been rather awkward with attention.

  Grabbing a towel to dry the dishes, Hannah said, “Better not let him hear you say that. From what I’ve gathered, Nate would consider it a challenge.”

  Sherry barked out a laugh. “Don’t I know it!” She shook her head, but fondness lit her eyes. “That boy is one hot mess, but mark my words, Hannah. His day is coming. There’s a woman out there who’s gonna tame the wild beast, and I for one can’t wait to watch him tumble.”

  Hannah chuckled, imagining the kind of woman who could accomplish such a feat, and they fell into silence, washing and drying the dishes with the sounds of running water and Little Einsteins filling the quiet. Unlike so many other times in her life when she’d run out of things to say, this silence was comfortable. For once, she wasn’t thinking about what she’d say next, or worrying about her nervous stutter. Sherry exuded warmth. The last threads of anxiety that had gripped Hannah’s chest slowly faded away.

  When the dishes were done, they turned to face the kids and a soft smile found Sherry’s lips. “That was a great idea, by the way, bringing things to decorate their roosts. I never would’ve thought of that.”

  The love in the woman’s eyes as she watched her daughter was unmistakable, and Hannah felt a twinge of envy. “For the most part, Lizzie will sleep in the back with us,” Sherry continued. “At least until the baby comes.” She rubbed a hand against her swollen belly. “But I love that she has her own space, too, you know?”

  “It’ll be good for whenever she needs quiet time away,” Hannah agreed. “And this way she can have her own special space for nap time. I figured a few posters, comfy pillows, and soft blankets might make the bus feel like it’s really theirs and help with the transition.” When the woman’s eyes widened with admiration, Hannah looked away. “I sort of stole the idea from a celebrity tour bus special on CMT.”

  Sherry linked her elbow through Hannah’s. “Girl, I say own your genius. It doesn’t matter who inspired it, you’re the one who made my baby smile.” She raised her chin toward the children. “Max, too. In my book, that’s what counts.”

  A rush of excitement buzzed through Hannah’s body at the woman’s kind words. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she might actually belong.

  Ten years ago, she’d forced her friendship on Deacon and was lucky enough that he decided to keep her around. Crystal, her mentor at the church preschool and surprisingly enough, a former classmate, also became a friend after working side by side for years—but the two women never hung around outside of work, or called each other just because. In fact, the only friend she’d really ever had other than Deacon had been Krista—Deacon’s ex and Max’s mother. Look how that had turned out.

  But Sherry Blue was different. She’d sensed it back in Louisiana, and today merely confirmed it. She and Arabella both were sweet and genuine. They didn’t seem the type to get secretly jealous, or scheme to find holes in Hannah’s confidence. They were good people. It made her that much happier to know that Deacon had them in his corner, too.

  The oven timer dinged and Hannah grabbed a trivet. She set the muffins on the counter to cool, and turned back to find Sherry studying her with a puzzled look on her face. The television program behind them ended, and after a moment, the other woman called out, “Lizzie, Max? Why don’t you two go add the finishing touches to your bunks? Your daddies will be so surprised tonight.”

  Those were the magic words. Max’s eyes lit up like Santa himself just waltzed in the room, and he immediately hopped down from the table, eager to do anything that’d make Deacon proud. As for Lizzie, Sherry helped her bouncing daughter down and then up into her roost, giving the little girl a sheet of glow-in-the-dark stars and a couple stuffed animals. Then she circled back toward Hannah.

  “That should keep them busy for a bit,” she said, slipping onto one side of the vacated kitchen bench and tapping the table in front of the other side. “Come sit a minute. I want to get to know you better.”

  “Um. Okay…” Feeling a twinge of her previous nervousness creep back, Hannah forced a smile and slid onto the bench. She tucked her hands under her thighs. “What do you want to know?”

  Sherry’s smile widened. “Honestly? Everything, but that’s only because I’m nosy. Heads up, I can be like a dog with a bone, wanting to know what makes everyone tick and how things work, but I won’t scare you away with all that just yet.” She winked and then leaned forward on the seat. “What I’m really curious about, though, is you and Deacon.”

  Hannah’s jaw went slack. “What do you mean…me and Deacon?”

  “Well, if I had to narrow it down, I guess how long you two have known each other,” she replied. “You’ve gotta know he acts differently around you. Hell, before you visited us for the Fourth, I wasn’t sure Deacon even had friends or family back home. He’s an awesome guy, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that he never talks about his personal life. He works his tail off and then scoots out to be with his son. Then you showed up and it got my Spidey senses all tingly.”

  Hannah dropped her eyes to the tabletop. “Deacon’s a pretty private guy,” she murmured.

  Honestly, it wasn’t as if she’d expected him to blab their business to his new friends. That wasn’t Deacon’s style. But she’d be lying if she said it wouldn’t have been nice if he’d at least mentioned her name. “I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you about me.”

  “Crap, that came out wrong.” Sherry blew a raspberry. “Listen, I’m not shocked he didn’t talk my ear off, either. Guys, especially music men, don’t do that unless they’re forced to do so, at least in my experience. Tyler would rather have a root canal than go around swapping stories. What I meant to say was, it wasn’t strange that he didn’t mention you, but more the way he reacted when you were there.”

  That caught Hannah’s attention. How had Deacon reacted? She racked her brain, wondering if she’d missed any signs
, or a clue that something had shifted between them, but she came up with zilch.

  Sherry made a face as she drummed her black-painted fingernails on the table. “I guess what I’m really wondering is…were the two of you ever, like, together?”

  Hannah didn’t need a mirror to know her face was bright red. In an instant. A curse of her Irish heritage. Opening her mouth, she went for a denial, and ended up instead with a squeak.

  Sherry slumped. “I’ve been reading too many romances again, haven’t I?” With a sigh, she said, “Hey, I know it’s none of my business. Obviously, this is your personal life and you don’t have to tell me squat. It’s just that Deacon’s so different with you. His eyes light up and he smiles. Like, actually smiles, you know? With teeth and everything.”

  An expression of deep affection washed over her face, and it was obvious she considered Deacon a friend. “Ty told me I needed to stay out of it, but he’s a guy. He doesn’t get it. I’m in love with the idea of love, and I want everyone to be as blissfully happy as I am. I can’t help myself.” She lifted a shoulder and smiled unapologetically, leaning forward again as she asked, “So…were you?”

  A strange fluttering began low in Hannah’s belly. Embarrassment, hope, and confusion bubbled beneath the surface, but she shook her head. “Uh, no.” She glanced out the window. “Deacon and I have only ever been friends. Best friends,” she clarified. “For ten years now.”

  “Seriously? But you’re so damn cute together. He’s sweet with you, and you seem so devoted to him. I could’ve sworn something was there. Are you sure?” Sherry fell back into her seat with a deflated slump. “I wanted you two to be my new pet project.”

  Hannah knew she shouldn’t ask. It was best for everyone involved to simply move on past this subject and let it go—before she revealed too much of her feelings and embarrassed herself more than she already had. But, she simply had to know.

  “Pet project?”

  Sherry rolled her eyes. “Nothing weird or tawdry,” she replied, whisking her hand in the air. “Like I said, I’m all about the love. My friend Angelle calls me a modern-day Cupid with hips.” She glanced down and patted her side. “Super-sized hips lately. But I guess I’ve lost my sixth sense, huh? Used to be, I could spot a potential love match at sixty paces.”