This Old Wind (Leanin' N Book 5)
Page 9
“Cool. I don’t want it to be weird. She loves kids, and I think she despairs neither me nor Stevie will give her any grandkids.” Hell, it had never occurred to him until today, seeing her with Michael’s girls.
“No? Your sister doesn’t want babies?”
“Not much maternal there.” Maybe Stevie would change her mind, but he could see her and her guy as double income, no kids.
“Ah. Well, parenting isn’t for everyone, that’s for sure.”
“No. I bet not.” Stevie would be fine. She just needed to grow up some. “Did you always want kids?” They turned as one and meandered back toward the main house.
Michael made a soft strangled noise. “Rhiannon sure did.”
“Yeah? Not you?” There was something there he couldn’t quite read in Michael’s voice. Probably an inside joke with his wife, who was now gone.
“I didn’t think I could. I had testicular cancer at fourteen. I never hoped for it. Being a daddy is my whole life.”
“Jesus.” He stopped to pull Michael into his arms, not caring who saw the hug. That one was for fourteen-year-old Michael.
Michael patted his back. “It was a long time ago, Simon.”
“Still. I can’t imagine. That’s crazy.”
Michael’s lips twisted. “It was. It still is.”
“I bet.” He put a hand on Michael’s cheek.
“Like nothing weird has ever happened to you.” Michael chuckled softly. “You’ve had so many more experiences than I did. I’m a little jealous, but more curious to hear all your stories.”
“I can regale you with some tonight. I do actually remember some of them,” he teased with a wink. Truthfully, he had his wild moments, but he’d never been a trash-the-hotel kind of guy.
“I’d love that. I… Is it weird that I love how you haven’t changed? You feel like the same man. I bet I’ve changed a lot.”
They came in view of the big house, where the girls were painting with Mom.
“I think you’re way more confident, sure.” Simon grinned at Michael, but it was just true. Michael had been tentative back then. He couldn’t wait to see what kind of lover Michael was now.
“I was a baby when I met you. At least I felt like one. And Rhi was so bold, so bright, you know?” Michael’s grin was self-deprecating as hell.
“She was a beacon.” Simon stroked his fingers over Michael’s hand. “You were a deep burn, though.”
“I am the backup musician, and the guy you call when you want consistent and steady.” Was Michael putting himself down? Being proud? He didn’t know.
One way or the other, Simon would make it his mission to show Michael how special he was.
“Daddy!” Chloe caught sight of Michael. “Look! We’re painting.”
“Let me see.” Michael’s smile was like the sun itself. “Tell me about y’all’s pictures.”
“I’m doing butterfly horses,” Chloe said. “With rainbows.”
“I’m designing my next robot. It’s going to be shaped like a guitar.” Mickey’s smile was angelic, and Simon fought not to crack up.
“Oh, I like them both,” Michael said.
“Aren’t they something?” Mom beamed. She was making lemonade out of lemons, for sure.
“Yes, ma’am. They are talented as all get-out. I hope they’ve been good for you.”
“They have been. I was hoping you all could have supper with us too. I mean, I know we all had lunch…” Mom looked so hopeful.
Simon glanced at Michael, waiting.
“Well, sure. Tell us where to meet y’all. The meals here are always something worth showing up for.”
“We’ll just meet you here on the porch, hmm?” Mom had this huge grin on her face. “Geoff says he’s serving in the dining room tonight.”
“Pizza.” Chloe waved her paintbrush, and rainbow went all over.
“Careful, girl!” Michael went to Mom. “Did she splash you?”
“Oh, no. No, I’m fine.” She laughed, brushing off droplets.
“I think everyone needs a rest. Haley needs a walk too.” Michael gently took the paintbrush from Chloe.
“Okay, Daddy. Sorry, Mrs. Petrie. Are you coming, Sister?”
Mickey sighed softly. “Daddy, save my picture? Please?”
“Of course. Go on, walk her in the fenced area, and then we’ll go have a nap.”
“Okay.” Mickey carefully put her brushes in the water cup, then climbed down.
“I’ll put them somewhere safe to dry,” Mrs. Petrie said. “Don’t you worry about it.”
Simon was kinda fascinated by the whole interplay. He cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, see you at supper, huh?”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m going to have a nap, pretend to watch TV through my eyelids.” Michael shot him a smile and winked at him, and that was flirting.
“That sounds good. Conserving energy for later.”
That made Michael’s smile broaden into Cheshire cat territory, and he waved before following his girls and one very exuberant beagle off down the path to the cabins.
Man, was he looking forward to after dinner.
Lord, it would be something, to be able to enjoy Michael again. Vivid memories assaulted him, and his cheeks heated, his breath catching. He glanced at his mom, hoping she didn’t notice.
“Those two are something else.” Mom patted his shoulder. “I don’t suppose you still play cribbage?”
“I do.” He might be a bit rusty, but that kind of shit was like falling off a bicycle. He never actually forgot. “Should we round up Dad?”
Cards would be a great way to spend the afternoon.
“He would love that. I brought the board; you call your father.”
“Okay. You want to play up here?” He tugged out his phone.
“They have this amazing porch and that big great room. Why not?”
Why the hell not? He grinned, feeling fifteen again.
It wasn’t a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.
Chapter 8
Michael sat on his bed while the girls watched Frozen and tried to figure out what the fuck he was doing.
He wasn’t being smart about this—not at all. Simon was the girls’ biological father, and if he wasn’t careful, someone was going to do the math and figure it out. Or maybe not. The girls had come early, so it wasn’t as dead on, but…
Damn.
He took a deep breath, then let it out. The damn part came from the fact that he was being selfish. Simon crashing into his truck was like a sign from the gods. Take this stolen time and run with it.
Besides, it wasn’t like they’d kept in touch. He’d have a little fling, a little adult time, and Simon would go back to being a star, and he’d go back to being a cowboy accountant and part-time wedding singer single father. It was perfectly fair.
Nodding, he rubbed his sweaty palm on his legs. Simon’s folks would leave too. Only Simon was staying.
Lord have mercy. He’d never…not with a man. It wasn’t for lack of interest, more lack of opportunity.
Now he had it.
Was Simon gonna think he was an idiot? He wasn’t as young as he’d been back then. He might have seemed innocent, but what if now he seemed like a bumbling fool?
Did your virginity grow back? Michael was afraid it did. At least he didn’t cream his jeans when the rock star touched him, right? That would have sucked.
And he couldn’t have a long-term thing with a man. How would he explain that to the girls? How had Stoney explained it to Quartz? Not that Simon had said anything at all about long-term… That was just his hopeful, happily-ever-after heart. Michael missed being part of an us.
He hadn’t had it long, but he’d had an other half long enough to know it was magical.
Simon didn’t seem like he’d ever been that lucky. Maybe they could pretend for a few days.
He got up, then smoothed out the bed. Okay, clean up a little.
Instead, he grabbed his guitar, picking out a simple,
soft song he’d written for Rhi, years ago. Maybe he would play it for Simon. So many people in his life had never met her…
She’d been a light in a boring world, and she’d shared her light with her girls. God, he loved them. So he would have to walk that careful line.
Simon’s mom already had ideas, he thought. Maybe not serious ones, but she’d bonded fast.
No. No way. How would she have even guessed? Simon hadn’t. There was no way on earth.
Maybe she just thought Rhiannon looked a lot like Simon, so he had a type.
He automatically picked up clothes and put them in the hamper in the bathroom, which was a nice touch. He’d have to tell Stoney and Ford. They had a nice little laundry room at the main house, and he would do a load soon. Painting and girls was messy.
Check the girls, wander around the front room, go to the porch, rock for a second, wish he was still smoking—God, he was restless.
Maybe he ought to…what? The girls were sleeping. He couldn’t go for a walk. He needed a treadmill. Laughing at himself, he grabbed his phone. He could play some silly games for a minute.
What he saw was a text from Simon.
He grinned. Was it crazy that he was happy Simon liked the kids? Probably, but damn it, he wanted to be a good dad to them.
Sure enough, Simon appeared in mere minutes, wearing a pair of soft sweats and a T-shirt. God, he was amazing. Hot as hell, his dark hair pulled back off his face.
“Hey you. How’s it going?” Please come sit. Visit. Talk to me.
“Good. This place is great, but I might be napped out.” Simon sat in the chair next to his, then handed him the book. “Everyone right and tight?”
“Thank you. I was restless. At home I’d be on my computer sneaking in a few hours of work or out with the horses, but here? No.”
“I bet. You don’t want to leave the girls, right? And you’re supposed to be on vacay.”
“Well, I was supposed to be working,” he teased. “I did get a nice tip.”
“And you’ll get a new truck out of it… God, that’s so embarrassing. I was exhausted.”
“I can’t imagine. How are the ribs?”
“Better. Much. So, they were only bruised.” Simon gave him this look that told him there would be no problem getting physical.
“Excellent.” He bit his bottom lip, but he couldn’t stop stealing needy looks. This was kind of torture, sitting right across from Simon and looking but not touching.
At least it was far from boring.
“I like that,” Simon murmured.
“Like what?”
“How you look at me.”
“I like to look at you, so we’re even.” His cheeks went hot, but he wasn’t ashamed. Not one damn bit.
“I’d be a hypocrite if I pretended not to like it, huh?” Simon’s voice did crazy things to his insides. That timbre turned on millions, but right now it was just for him.
Selfish as he was, Michael was about to bust with pride.
The temptation to ask Simon about his life crept up again. “Do you have a favorite song to sing in concert?”
“Uh.” Simon blinked, but laughed. “I get asked that all the time by reporters, and I always lie and say whatever the big hit is at the time. Truthfully? It’s ‘You Make Me Sing.’”
That was a ballad Simon had written years ago, and Michael loved it.
“You sang that in Kerrville. We loved it. Rhi thought it was perfect.” She’d sung it over and over.
“Thanks. I don’t get to play it much now, but it’s still my favorite.” Simon rocked a little, looking thoughtful.
“You have way more choices now. I imagine making a playlist is a challenge.” He really couldn’t imagine. He was a cowboy wedding singer.
“It’s got a formula, but yeah. It’s getting tougher.” Simon met his eyes. “Touring is getting tougher.”
“Do you like it? I mean, did you? I mean…shit. You know what I’m saying, right?” He felt like a hayseed.
“Yeah.” Simon reached for his hand, and he met the man halfway. “I do. I loved it so much once upon a time. These days I’m older, the schedule is tougher, and I’m a little burned out.” He got a glinting look. “I know how lucky I am. Like, for real. I just need a breather.”
“Sure. Everyone needs time at home, even amazing rock stars. You should take six months off, lounge by the pool, get tanned and lazy.”
“I should. I need to talk with my team. Really.” Simon chuckled. “It’s never occurred to me I could change my schedule, but maybe it’s time to take a little more time between albums and tours.”
“Maybe. Just because you shouldn’t be unhappy, huh?” Michael loved the idea that someone he knew was making music for a living.
“It would go a long way to righting my world. Thank you.” Simon squeezed his hand, acting like he’d done something magical.
“Do you get to make a lot of music? I’m talking for fun, not performing.”
Simon pondered that, rocking a little. “You mean like we did this morning? Not much. I jam with the band sometimes, but I don’t get to noodle around a lot.”
“No? That’s a shame. That would be the part I craved.” He wasn’t a performer, not really. He just loved music.
“I miss it.” Simon shook his head. “Is that weird? That I make music all the time, but I don’t feel like I do.” Simon’s shoulders straightened. “Yeah, that’s gonna change.”
Oh, yay! He didn’t say it out loud, but his approval must have shown on his face, because Simon grinned at him, nodded.
They rocked together for a while after that, a comfortable silence between them. Michael liked that. Hell, he liked Simon. Enjoyed his company, as well as his hotness.
“Daddy? Daddy, where are you?”
“Out here visiting with Mr. Simon, Chloe.”
Simon blinked at him. “You can tell them apart by voice?”
“Yep.” He’d never been fooled once. They’d been different from birth.
“Wow. That’s cool.”
Chloe came out, dragging a rainbow stuffed bear behind her. “I had a bad dream.”
“Oh baby doll.” He held his arms open for her, and she crawled into his lap. “Love you. It’s okay. Just a dream.”
“Gonna get me.” She sniffed, holding the front of his shirt with one hand. Sometimes she was so damn young, and he loved her so much.
“Daddy will never let anyone get you. I will always have your back, baby girl.”
“Promise to God?”
“I do. I swear to God.” That was his job. He existed to fight his girls’ monsters.
“Okay.” She rested against him, and he glanced at Simon, who was watching them, a soft smile on his face.
He started rocking, singing to her softly, going from the Beatles to Cody Johnson to Randy Travis.
Simon joined in, their voices twining effortlessly, just like his and Rhi’s used to. She’d always said anyone who sounded that good in duet were meant to be together.
Chloe fell back to sleep, holding her bear, breathing nice and easy now. Sweet girl.
They sang together
for a while longer, going from country to bluegrass to gospel. When they trailed off, Mickey came out and sat on the floor by his chair, leaning on his leg. “That was nice, Daddy.”
He smiled at Simon. “It was lovely. You okay?”
“I’m good, Daddy. Is Sister all right?”
“Just a bad dream.”
Mickey stared at him, so serious. “There was a monster. It was going to get her.”
“I told her I would protect her. You will too, I know.”
Mickey nodded solemnly. “She’s my sister. I would hit it on the nose.”
Simon’s lips twitched. “I bet you would. You’re fierce.”
“I have to be. Sister isn’t. She needs me.”
“She’s a sweetie,” Simon agreed. “You balance each other.”
“Like yin and yang, Daddy says. I looked it up. Pretty cool.” Her dark eyebrow winged up. “I’m the black swirl.”
Michael wasn’t sure about that, but he wasn’t going to argue. Whatever suited them.
Simon gave that a very serious face. “Hmm. I can see you guys being like that. Very nice. What’s your favorite kind of music, Mickey?”
“Old-school country. Like Waylon and Willie, not like Tim McGraw.”
Lord. Tim McGraw. Granted, the man was a few years older than him and Simon. Maybe more than a few, but Michael guessed to her he seemed like a grandpa. Weird how his heroes were her has-beens.
“I like outlaw country myself,” Simon said, his eyes dancing as if he knew exactly what Michael was thinking.
“Daddy likes that a lot too.” Mickey grinned at Simon like she was sharing a secret. “He’s kind of amazing.”
“I think he is, kiddo,” Simon whispered back, making a thrill run through Michael’s body.
Chloe nuzzled against his chest, hugging him. “Amazing daddy of joy. We like him.”
“Good. Dads are important.” Simon grinned. “I like mine too.”
“He’s pretty cool,” Mickey said. “Your mom is super nice.”
“She is! And she tells good stories. I like her a lot.” Chloe seemed like she was happy, right where she was. “You have nice people, Mr. Simon.”
“Thank you, Chloe. You’d like my sister too. She just got a little grumpy.” Simon chuckled.