This Old Wind (Leanin' N Book 5)
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This Old Wind
Leanin’ N Ranch, Book 5
BA Tortuga
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Want More?
The Leanin’ N Series
About BA
Afterword
Also Available from BA
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
This Old Wind
Turtlehat Creatives
Copyright 2020 by BA Tortuga
Cover illustration by AJ Corza
Published with permission
Edited by Blue Ink Editing
ISBN: 978-1-953438-13-3
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law.
First Printing: December 2020
Printed in the USA
Created with Vellum
For Andrew, because daddies are so important to their little girls, and he lives like he knows it.
Prologue
“Hey, guys!”
Michael glanced up from where he was brushing Rhiannon’s hair, getting her ready for her set. She wasn’t feeling well, not at all, but they needed this gig. They needed the money to baby the little van from Albuquerque to Aspen.
His mom had an extra room, a place to hang out for a month, grab a temporary job and save up for a new amp. Something better than this conversion van with bad tires and constant stops at every McDonald’s.
“Are you listening, Michael?” Simon was stamping his foot and shaking the van, that little flare of temper making him grin. “The demo went wild. I mean, wild. You know, the one you shot last week. Everyone loves it!”
Michael grinned, kissing Rhi’s temple. “See? It wasn’t that dumb of an idea.”
“When do you leave?” Rhiannon asked, and Michael blinked, unsure how he’d lost the train of thought.
Wait. “What?”
“His shit is packed. I noticed when we came in.” Rhi’s face was carefully neutral, still. “When are you leaving the tour?”
“Leaving the tour? You’re the headliner.” If you could call the guy who sang second in whatever bar they were playing a headliner. It was still a tour.
“I have to be in LA tonight. I have a meeting. Like, a real meeting with producers.” At least Simon seemed sad to be leaving them.
Because no matter what had happened in the dark between the three of them, he and Rhi were a them. Rhi wouldn’t go with Simon.
There was no way they both could go. They didn’t know if they had enough gas to get to Colorado.
“I love you two. I do, but—”
Rhi shrugged one shoulder, the motion smooth and easy. “But we’re not ever going to be stars. I hope you make it big, man. I hope you kill it out there.”
Michael sat on his butt, his tongue like a dead thing in his mouth. He was… Simon was…
“Yeah. I mean, we all knew this was fun, but…”
Michael hadn’t known it was fun. He hadn’t guessed that it was fun. It had felt a hell of a lot bigger than fun.
“Good luck, Simon. We’ll see you.”
Simon nodded and offered Michael a glance. “I’ll call. We can plan a-a-a thing.”
Rhiannon’s chuckle was a little bitter, which was weird, because they’d played together a lot, but… “Goodbye, gorgeous. We’ll see you around.”
“You will. I swear.” Simon leaned toward Rhi as if to kiss her, but she leaned back, and Simon jerked as if stung. “Goodbye, guys.”
Then that was it. The man they’d been having a love affair with for almost four months disappeared like smoke.
“Don’t worry,” Rhi said, “we’ll be okay.”
Michael’s head moved jerkily, like he couldn’t quite control it. “We will.”
It wasn’t until a couple of hours later, when Michael was in the middle of a cover of “Amarillo by Morning” that he realized Simon hadn’t even tried to kiss him goodbye.
Chapter 1
Ford Nixel loved his life. He really did. But why, oh why, did they decide weddings were their bread and butter? Why not corporate meetings or billionaire birthday parties?
Of course, there were only so many billionaires who would go to a gay-friendly dude ranch for their birthdays.
“Tell me again why Mason isn’t here going over menus with you? I mean, for fuck’s sake, there are two of them,” Ford asked his chef, Geoff. They’d both changed. Again.
“Because Mason is in Dallas dealing with a Wright function and he won’t be back for another week?”
Oh, right. Dammit.
Their favorite wedding planner was a busy man.
“Well, what do we do about the influx of vegan guests? Tofurkey?” Ford teased.
“You let me handle that, man. Vegan is a specialty of mine. What about security? That Simon fella is popular as hell right now.”
“Is he?” Ford wasn’t much on anything recorded after about 1990. Classic was his jam. “Well, we’re pretty isolated, but we’ll focus on the main entrances to the ranch. I’ll hire some guys to keep watch.” He needed to talk to Stoney about hiring on some permanent security types. They were getting more and more people who might need those kinds of services.
“Tiny knows several guys who would help out for not much money.” Geoff grinned and waggled his eyebrows at him.
“I bet he does.”
“Yep.” Geoff laughed at him, totally unrepentant. “Best hire you ever made, boss.”
“Well, yes, since Stoney hired you.” He winked, then looked around at the explosion of wedding favors, flower charts from the bride in one wedding and the grooms in two others, and the menus. “We’re doing good, huh?”
“We’re doing amazing. Stoney is going to charm the hell out of everyone, I’m going to be the cook I know I can be, and you, Mr. Nixel, are going to hire yourself out as the world’s foremost expert on making gorgeous bows!”
Ford arched an eyebrow, but he couldn’t fight the laugh that needed out, not at all.
God help him, he was a bow-making machine.
Law school hadn’t prepared him for this shit.
Chapter 2
The phone rang while Michael Johns was elbow-deep in his daughter Chloe’s hair. She wanted a French braid this morning, and after about eight thousand YouTube videos, Michael had felt up to the task. Mostly. He still needed fifty more hands.
“Shoot. Grab my phone?”
Chloe giggled but grabbed his phone. And answered it. “Hello? Hi, Stoney! Daddy is braiding my hair! Uh-huh. Okay.” She poked at the phone. “Stoney said to put him on speaker.”
Well, shit. How were these girls so much more tech-savvy than them? “Uh, hey, man. What’s up?”
“Braiding lessons, apparently.” Stoney chuckled, sounding shit-eating as all get-out. “How are y’all doing?”
“We’re fine
as frog hair. Chloe’s fixin’ to have a fairy ball with her best friend, and Mikhala is—” Fuck, where was Mickey? “Mikhala Dyanne! Are you in your room?”
She popped up over the pass-through, waving at him. “Here, Daddy! I’m writing a song on my tablet!”
Oh. Oh, excellent. “Good deal, baby. Continue on as you were.”
She giggled and saluted, her hair down and wild, the near ebony curls bouncing like mad things. Then she sank back into the family room. He looked at his fingers, which had identical black curls grabbing at them.
“And Mickey is on the computer. How’s you?”
“Good. Good. It’s our busy season, you know?” Stoney was being…weirdly cautious.
“Yeah, I know. What’s up, man?” He didn’t have time for pussyfooting around. If Stoney needed him to sing for a wedding, he was in. It wasn’t his main job, but it was the paying one he loved best, and Stoney and Ford gave a man fair pay and let him keep all his tips.
“I had a last-minute cancellation. Do you think you could come up next weekend? I need someone who knows classic to now country, and you’re my go-to guy.”
Next weekend? That was fairly short notice. “If I can find a babysitter, you got it. Mom’s up in the mountains doing a cleanse, or I’d just have her watch the beasts.”
“Daddy! Not a beast!” Chloe said, while Mickey’s “Totally a beast” chased the words away.
“Bring the girls. It’s a tiny, but, uh, expensive wedding. There will be a cabin for you guys, and Quartz likes hanging out with them.”
Oh, that had possibilities. “Yeah? I could take Monday and Tuesday off work too, just enjoy my girls for a couple days?” He was willing to take a shot at a few days in a cabin.
“Hell, yeah. Uh. Heck, yeah.” Stoney chuckled. “I forget I’m on speaker. We’ll do a barbecue Monday and everything.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“We can’t wait to see you.” Stoney took a deep breath, and man, he knew that sound. That was the “one less thing I have to deal with” noise. “Thanks, man. I do appreciate it.”
“No problem. I love to pick and sing, you know that.” He’d been in a band, once upon a time, a long time ago.
“I do. You’re too good at it to be a bookkeeper.”
“Accountant. Your accountant.” He wasn’t going to have that conversation with the girls right there. “This way I get to do both.”
Stability was a thing when you had a set of twins who needed their daddy.
“Yeah. Like I get to cowboy and run a hotel.” Stoney chuckled. “Okay. So the wedding is Saturday, but there’s a dinner Friday night that could use a guy and a guitar.”
“I’ll be there. I usually work half days on Fridays, but I’ll just take the day off.”
“Works for me. Hey, if I PayPal, can you pick up some food for Quartz? I owe him some fast food for all the work he’s putting in, and the wedding party is having not his favorites…”
“No worries. Text me a list, and I’m on it. Bye!” Chloe hung up the phone while he managed a decent braid and snapped a little doolie on the end. “Did you hear that, girls? Five-day, four-night vacation at the Leanin’ N!”
“Oh…we can pet Stoney’s horses and have craft time!” Chloe bounced and headed for the door. “Lissa’s momma is here!”
“Okay, I’ll watch you go.” He went to the kitchen window, watching as Chloe knocked on the van door. Tracy, Lissa’s mom, opened the window and waved at him.
“I’ll have her home before supper!”
“Thanks, honey!” He waved, then turned to look at his Mickey. “Wanna watch a movie together? I’ll make popcorn…”
She blinked at him, then beamed. “Yes, please.”
“Cool. You pick the show. I’ll even put cinnamon sugar on the munchies.”
“Thank you, Daddy!” Mickey whirled and ran, and he knew she would carefully put the tablet away before going to set up a movie she would never admit to her sister she liked. Even at eight, they were both so concerned about the way things were perceived. They must have gotten that from their mother. It sure wasn’t from him.
They were so different, his babies. So different and yet so connected, on a cellular level. He loved them both so much it hurt. Of course he’d loved Rhiannon too, and losing her two days after the girls were born—it wasn’t fair.
At all.
He shook it off, moving to make popcorn. He had a great life: a solid job, his music still right there, his babies.
“I picked The Princess Bride, Daddy.”
Yeah, he knew. “Oh, an oldie but a goodie. Rock on.”
“No, Daddy. As you wish.”
He hooted. “Right. Sorry.”
Brilliant girl. They both were, in their own, specific, wonderful ways. They made his chest ache with wanting to do right by them. A good ache, but an ache nonetheless.
The popcorn started going, and he sent an email to one of his clients asking to reschedule a meeting, and another to their neighbors to see if they would come feed for him.
A little vacation would be wonderful for all of them, and Stoney and Ford were a hoot to hang out with. Just solid guys who liked kids. Quartz was too old to play, but the girls could spend hours in the little playground, the amazing playhouse Stoney had built.
The opening credits started, and he settled on the couch, Mickey snuggling up under his arm, their old beagle, Haley, pushing up half on Mickey’s lap.
He started to make a mental list of all the things he needed to do and pack so they could have their wee vacation. Clothes, swimsuits, boots—because the girls would say they just wanted to pet the horses, but they would get to go riding up in the mountains.
Guitar, amp, deck. Cowboy getup. Good hat. Road trip snacks and movies.
Dog stuff. There were half a dozen big runs at the ranch now, and Haley beagle rarely strayed far from his side these days anyway. She could barely smell anything anymore, so she could be off leash.
“You excited about a vacation?” he asked, and Mickey nodded.
“Their horses are cool, and I like the playground. You’re going to sing?”
“I am. There’s a wedding, and they want country music.” He loved dusting off the old stuff.
“Twang.” She wrinkled her nose, but he knew better. She could belt everything from King George to Florida Georgia Line.
“Yep. I can’t wait until you girls sing with me.” They were both amazing musicians, but he wasn’t a stage dad type.
“I will sometime.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I want to write you songs.”
“I would love that. I would sing your songs with pride.”
She rolled her eyes at him, and suddenly he could see Rhiannon in them, clear as a bell. “You have to. You’re my Daddy.”
Fuck, he was proud she had that complete faith in him. That meant he was doing a good job.
He dropped a kiss on her head. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Daddy.” She yawned. Soon she would drop into a nap. “Watch the movie now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He focused on the movie and his to-do list. Just letting her have her Daddy time. He grinned. Life was pretty damn fine. He would take that.
Chapter 3
Simon McFee swore that once they got Stevie married to her guy, he was never, ever dealing with another wedding, ever again.
It had been an endless series of phone calls between gigs of planning dates, and did he like the color burgundy, and strawberries in the cake or no?
He honestly didn’t give a hoot.
Not only that, but this earbud made his damn ear hurt. He really wasn’t a phone type of guy. His next cell phone was going to have no contacts. None. Zero.
Simon fought his chuckles as he spun around in his chair, the LA skyline appearing and disappearing, over and over.
“Are you listening, Brother? I got the wedding singer all taken care of,” Stevie said. “He does country, old and new.”
“Good de
al.” Jesus, really? He could have called a friend who could actually sing. Did they need some yokel from Bumfuck, Colorado?
“Yeah. I tried to get Callum to do it, but he flaked on me. Is this a bad idea, Simon? I know it’s déclassé, but I want a ranch wedding.”
“If you want a ranch wedding, you’ll have a ranch wedding. Isn’t it all set up?” Hadn’t they had five thousand phone calls from Hong Kong to Belfast to Philly about this? And weren’t there ranches in Nashville where she and the folks lived?
“Yeah. I just—Callum said it was stupid.” She sighed, and he wanted to find her best friend from high school and smack the fool.
“He’s a shit. He always has been.”
“I know.” She chuckled, and he thought she might be crying. It sounded watery. “I just thought he might be able to put it aside for my wedding.”
Jesus, he didn’t need this. He was exhausted and was supposed to be writing for his next album. Still, he was fucking self-aware enough to friggin’ know he was jealous Stevie could have high school friends still, her life still had that blessed normalcy. The fact that he was trapped in the gears of his own machine was his own problem, and one people would kill for. “That’s too hard for him, honey. He’s a prick and a half. Me? I’m your angel.”
“You are. You really are. Kick his ass?”
“You know it.” He leaned back in his chair, tilting it dangerously, listening to his back pop like a snare drum.
“Cool. When are you coming in?”
“I’ll take the red-eye in tonight.” He was in LA, and he had a dinner he had to go to before he flew out. His agent was relentless.