The Nanny Arrangement (Country Blues)

by Rachel Harris

  Here it was, a moment of truth. Hannah could carry on as she started, take the safe route and drop it, perhaps ask about the pregnancy or the band’s tour schedule…or she could push forward. Try something new. The old Hannah wouldn’t have hesitated. Only one other person ever knew how she felt about Deacon, and the day after she’d confessed the truth, that friend had gone after him for herself.

  But this was Hannah 2.0. She was on a mission, and she’d vowed to stop shying away from things that scared her. That included trusting people and making friends. Plus, Sherry was into matchmaking and already said they were cute together. Maybe she could eventually offer Hannah a few tips? Lord knew she could use them.

  Before she could overthink it, she blurted out, “Not exactly.”

  Sherry’s eyebrows shot up, and Hannah swallowed the lump in her throat.

  Well, there was no turning back now.

  “It’s true we weren’t ever together…like that. Deacon moved next door the summer before our sophomore year of high school, and I wasn’t exactly Miss Popularity back then. Or ever,” she added with a laugh. “I was desperate for someone to talk to, someone who hadn’t grown up hearing me literally stutter through life, and Deacon was like an answer to a prayer. He didn’t judge me or laugh at me. He protected me and made me feel special. It’d be hard not to develop at least a little crush.”

  Hannah smiled awkwardly, covering the understatement of the century, while Sherry squished her eyebrows together. Her head tilted in befuddlement. Then, she widened her eyes.

  “You had a stutter?” The second the words left her mouth, she winced. “Crap, I’m sorry. That was completely tactless. It’s just that I’m surprised. You seriously can’t tell at all.”

  Hannah grinned, waving away the other woman’s concern. “I’m glad you can’t tell. I worked my butt off to overcome it, so no offense taken.” She scooted back on the bench and shrugged. “I mean, I still stumble from time to time, but I’ve learned to control it for the most part. Actually, it had gotten a lot better by the time Deacon moved next door, with only a few slip ups whenever I was really nervous.” She laughed softly and craned an eyebrow. “But you tell me, what teenage girl never gets nervous?”

  Sherry grunted. “More like, what woman never gets nervous.” She shook her head. “I’m still a neurotic mess, but back then? Pssh. I hated high school. Just thinking about it gives me hives.”

  She scratched a phantom itch on her arm for effect, and Hannah blinked in shock. Sherry Blue was the epitome of cool. She exuded confidence and charisma, and even in maternity clothes held a rocker vibe. Hell, she was married to a former Sexiest Man Alive. Hannah would’ve bet even money that Sherry had ruled her school back in the day.

  Obviously reading her thoughts, Sherry laughed out loud. “Trust me, sweets. We’ve all battled mean girls at some point. Kids can be unbelievably cruel. I wouldn’t go back to those days if you paid me.”

  Reaching out, she took Hannah’s hand, smiling in empathy, and a two-ton weight lifted from Hannah’s shoulders. Until that moment, she hadn’t known how much she’d needed this—a female friend who understood where she came from and who honestly seemed to care.

  Hannah smiled ruefully. “Well, I admit I was an easy target. My parents had me late in life, and they were a good bit older than everyone else’s parents. In case you couldn’t tell when you met them earlier, they’re pretty conservative, and we didn’t have a ton of money to spend chasing trends. If my clothes weren’t from a thrift store, my mama made it. They were simple, modest, and resembled what you’d wear on a prairie.” She laughed softly in memory. “Add in my bright orange-red hair, an unfortunate puberty, and a debilitating stutter…I pretty much tattooed the bull’s-eye on my back.”

  Sherry frowned. “People suck.”

  “That they do,” she agreed with a grin. “It didn’t matter what I did, either. How smart I was or the roles I got in drama. They didn’t care that my stutter improved. Our town is small and my classmates had been with me since kindergarten. There was no changing my fate. I was the school freak.” Hannah sighed. “Of course, things only got worse when the hot new bad boy suddenly became my best friend, ready and willing to beat up anyone who messed with me.”

  “Whoa.” Sherry threw her palms in the air. “Hold up a second. Hot new bad boy? Are you telling me that Deacon—Mr. Stoic, Quiet, Fatherly, Fiddle-playing Deacon—used to be a bad boy?” When Hannah bit back a smile nodding in reply, Sherry’s hands slapped the table. “Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!”

  Hannah laughed and folded her arms on the table. “Yup. Deacon was a total rebel.”

  Sherry blinked in astonishment, then hopped up to grab the tray of cooled muffins. “Revelations like these require sustenance,” she explained, setting the treats between them.

  Choosing one overstuffed with berries, Hannah pinched off an edge. Steam floated in the air, and she popped the morsel into her mouth. This was fun.

  “Deacon had the whole look down, too,” she confided. “Torn jeans, black leather, long hair. The best part was that he didn’t give a damn what people thought about him, either. He did his own thing and gave the middle finger to the rules all the other sheep followed. Oddly enough, that only made him more popular. The other guys either wanted to be him or be seen with him, and the girls…well, they just wanted him, period.”

  One girl in particular went above and beyond to reach that goal, and Hannah sighed as she popped another bite into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, then shook her head.

  “I, of course, had the opposite problem. I was a social pariah and cared too much about what other people thought. Deacon hated how they treated me, and he got in a ton of fights that first year. After that, I just stopped telling him about their teasing.”

  The fighting hadn’t stopped anything anyway. Their classmates simply got more creative, whispering insults and calling her out in gym or the locker room, places where they knew Deacon wouldn’t be around. By that point, she’d just wanted him to stop getting in trouble over her, and she’d been embarrassed that he felt the need to keep coming to her rescue. So she’d hidden the problems as best she could.

  “Junior year, I convinced Deacon to try out for basketball. He was antiestablishment back then,” she confided with an eye roll, “but he always played on his driveway, and he never missed a shot. Ever. He easily made the team and became our star player, which forced him to become a bit more involved. But he still never played by anyone’s rules other than his own. The summer after that, he found his granddad’s fiddle in the attic, and I gave him lessons on piano.” Hannah smiled. “I guess you could say the rest is history.”

  Sherry still hadn’t touched her muffin. She’d sat there, completely enraptured by Hannah’s story, but now that it was over, a curious expression crossed her face.

  Hannah shifted in her seat. Had she said too much? Deacon was intensely private, but she didn’t think he’d mind the few details she had shared. It was mostly about her anyway, and she’d never divulge the truth about his parents or his family life. If anything, the little that she had revealed showed what an incredible man Deacon was.

  But why was Sherry looking at her like that?

  “Deacon’s a hard worker,” she added in a rush, trying to do damage control. “Obviously, he’s grown up, like we all have. He doesn’t have a problem following rules now. He’s loyal and honest, and when it comes to the people he cares about, there’s nothing he won’t do for them. Blue’s lucky to have him.”

  For good measure, she picked up a muffin and handed it to Sherry. A slow smile curved the woman’s lips. “I’m starting to get that.”

  Lifting her muffin, she tapped it against Hannah’s in a silent cheers and took a big bite. The calculating gleam dissipated from her eye as a delighted moan fell from her lips. “Oh. My. God.”

  Hannah grinned. “Good, right?”

  “Mmm hmm.” Sherry took another bite, mumbling with a mouth full, “Better than g
ood. Perfection.”

  “Mama used to make these for me every first day of school. With it being our first day out on the road, I thought I’d keep the tradition alive.”

  Sherry’s eyes were glazed in bliss, but her lips pinched in a frown. “Only if by ‘tradition’ you mean ‘weekly occurrence,’ then you’re on.” Waving her half-eaten muffin in a circle around her face, she said, “See this? This is the face of a pregnant lady. A very hungry pregnant lady. Teasing me with these bites of heaven and then taking them away again for ‘special occasions’ would be cruel and unusual punishment.”

  To punctuate her statement, Sherry took a massive bite, sending tiny crumbs flying through the air, and Hannah laughed. “My apologies, then. Honestly, I don’t know what on earth I was thinking.”

  “You weren’t,” her new friend explained. “But that’s okay. That’s why you and me are gonna make a great team. I’ve got your back, I’ll keep you thinking straight, and you just keep whipping these up on the regular. Then we’ll be all good.”

  After stuffing the rest of the muffin in her mouth, Sherry glanced at the tray on the table. She did a quick calculation, then raised her eyes. “Only one thing. These bad boys are our little secret. I guess Ty and Deacon can know, and of course, we’ll let the kids in, but that’s it.” She pulled the tray toward her chest like she was hoarding them. “Hormonal pregnant chicks don’t share well, and these suckers are now at the top of my cravings list!”

  Hannah laughed aloud, and as Sherry took another muffin, swaying in her seat in what she liked to call the “happy tummy dance,” a feeling of wonder washed over her.

  She’d expected to have fun with Max and Deacon on this trip. She’d even hoped for a shift in feelings with her best friend, a shift that could lead to everything. But what she hadn’t planned on, what she hadn’t even dared to dream, was for a new friendship to develop—especially not with the awesome woman seated across from her.

  As a super fan, Hannah of course knew of Sherry way before they met in Magnolia Springs. In fact, over the last few years the woman had become a celebrity in her own right. Her natural beauty and funky sense of style were a favorite topic in the media after award shows and events Blue attended. She was cool and fun and everything Hannah wasn’t…yet Sherry actually seemed to enjoy her company.

  Maybe her stars were changing, after all.

  Sighing contently, Sherry dusted her hands and patted her swollen, satiated belly. She stretched out on the bench seat, glanced over to where the children lay giggling in their roosts, then nodded to herself before turning back around with a spark in her eyes. “Hannah, my dear, I think I love you.”

  Chapter Four

  Coffee. I need coffee.

  Actually, Deacon could use something a hell of a lot stronger than coffee, but he’d given up the hard stuff when he was fifteen. So, caffeine it was. Shuffling through the bowels of Gillette stadium on autopilot, he headed toward the stash of New Orleans brewed Community he kept on the bus and went over the new set list again. Committing it to memory, and trying to forget what prompted it to begin with.

  It didn’t matter that this was how the show should’ve been set up originally. Kicking off with their biggest hit, “Rain Dance,” anchoring the middle with fan-favorite, “Next Time,” and ending on their latest number one, “Steel Blue,” made sense—but it wasn’t what prompted the change. Nope, that’d be him. Or, more accurately, his shitty playing in Providence opening night.

  Deacon raked his fingers through his mop of hair. He’d screwed up. Missed two cues and played tight. This wasn’t him. He didn’t choke when the game was on the line. Zoning out everything else and being good in the clutch was the one thing Deacon was good for. The rest of his life was a veritable mess, but he performed when he had to. At least, that had been the case up until a couple days ago.

  Of course the guys downplayed it. Charlie said it happened to all of them the first time they played for a huge crowd, and Miles reminded him this tour was the band’s biggest yet. Nate swore the fans couldn’t tell the difference. But none of those things mattered because Deacon knew, and he held himself to a higher standard. He had to because he had so much more on the line. Besides, the new set list proved it was a bigger deal than Tyler had initially let on.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Latrell.”

  A young guy in a black T-shirt, dark jeans, and Blue baseball cap held open the exit door, entering the stadium around the same time Deacon was leaving. Deacon jogged ahead and waved two fingers in salute as he passed through the doorway. “Thanks there, Brad.”

  The young roadie’s head jerked up in surprise. Clearly, he hadn’t expected the newbie to know his name, but Deacon smiled as he turned, walking backward so he could continue talking to him. “And hey, call me Deacon, all right? Mr. Latrell was my granddad.”

  The bags growing under his eyes from lack of sleep may’ve made him look like a grandfather, but Deacon damn sure didn’t want a guy two years his junior last-naming him.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Deacon,” Brad called back with a smile, and Deacon chuckled under his breath. Eh, close enough. “Break a leg tonight!” With that, Brad ducked inside the stadium, and Deacon shook his head.

  “Break a leg.” It was such a weird expression when you thought about it. Almost morbid. As a rule, Deacon had never gone for any of those pre-show superstitions, whether it was a basketball game or his early days singing karaoke. But right now, he could use all the good mojo he could get. Crossing himself twice and pointing in the air, he spun back around and beat feet toward the tour buses.

  The back of the stadium was utter chaos. Crew members zipped around, setting up media tents and corralling set pieces. As he passed, Deacon made it a point to say hello to each and every one of them…and, just like with Brad, they all reacted with shock when he called them by name.

  It was a damn shame. The way he saw it, these guys were the heart and soul of the tour. They were the ones who kept everything running, made the rest of them look good, and they deserved his respect. Another roadie at least twice his age walked by, calling him Mr. Latrell, and Deacon laughed to himself.

  Now if only they’ll stop making me feel ancient at twenty-five, he thought with a grin.

  Over the sounds of male camaraderie, a female laugh broke out. Deacon glanced toward the row of buses and saw a bright yellow cab idling. Standing just outside it, Charlie held Ella in his arms, his head buried in her neck, making her squeal. Deacon looked away, wanting to give them privacy, but for some reason, his eyes quickly swung back. A pang of envy hit him in the chest.

  He was glad for his friends. Charlie and Arabella both deserved to be happy, and anyone within a mile radius could see they were. They’d had a few stumbles on their way, but they were doing better than ever. Arabella glanced up and caught his gaze, and she smiled and waved before dragging Charlie inside the cab. They were off to explore Boston, since the band wasn’t needed back until five.

  Tyler had ducked out right after sound check ended, scooping up Sherry and Lizzie so they could go to the New England Aquarium. As for Nate and Miles, they both opted for naps, forgoing sightseeing now for the wild bar scene after the concert.

  Like they had the previous nights, Deacon expected they’d invite him along, and just like every other night, his answer would still be no. Even with someone to watch Max, that scene wasn’t for him. Getting drunk, partying, that was his past. He didn’t want or need that in his life anymore, not since he’d met the Fishers. Now given the choice of a cheap high or the real thing, he’d rather spend his time with the people who mattered.

  Deacon broke out into a jog. Balance wasn’t something he was good at. He’d always been an all-or-nothing sort of guy—stubborn, hardheaded, and independent, too, if anyone was taking inventory—so it wasn’t a surprise he’d struggled the last week. It hurt like hell leaving every morning, knowing his son was off having adventures in new cities without him. Deacon wanted to be a part of those memories he was making, an
d he didn’t want to miss a second of Max’s life. Nightly early dinners and their sacred story time just weren’t enough.

  The only thing that helped was knowing Hannah was there during those other times. She was the one person Deacon trusted to care for his son the way he would. In many ways, the last few days felt like it had just after Max was born, back when the three of them had been a family of sorts.

  That first year, Deacon wouldn’t have survived without her. She’d brought Max to the daycare where she worked during the day, came back to their place and made dinner at night, and he’d taken over for bath and bed. Most nights she’d even slept over, pitching in with middle-of-the-night feedings. He’d grown so reliant on her steady presence that he’d allowed her to put her own life on hold…and that was where he’d failed her. His selfishness had gotten in the way of what she’d needed, which was why she’d left the country just to get a little space.

  Of course, she’d claimed she wanted to expand her wings and try something new, but he’d known better. Hannah left because he’d taken advantage of their friendship. When the opportunity had arisen for her to join them on tour, Deacon promised himself he wouldn’t make that mistake again. This time, she’d know how grateful he was to have her in his life, and he wouldn’t take a single second for granted.

  Reaching the bus door, he tugged it open and bounded up the steps, eager to see Max’s devious grin—

  And came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a pert ass thrust high in the air.

  A pair of dark jeans was molded over gentle curves like a second skin, and Deacon bit back a groan as a flood of unwanted images bombarded his brain.

  So much for not picturing his best friend naked again.