This Old Wind (Leanin' N Book 5)

by BA Tortuga

  “This is…damn, baby. Magic. You’re magic.”

  “I think we are together.” That was his story and he was sticking to it.

  “Together is a great damn word.” Michael smoothed his hair back from his face.

  “It is.” He had no idea what it could even mean in relation to them long-term, but Simon was sure feeling the word right now.

  Michael yawned hugely, jaw cracking. “Are you a napper?”

  “I am.” He could be, anyway. He slept on the bus a lot. Did that count?

  “Good. I need just, like, ten minutes. Power nappage.”

  He nodded, his own yawn surprising a laugh out of him. “Sounds good, honey.”

  “Yeah.” Michael’s arms wrapped around him, holding on tight.

  He closed his eyes, letting Michael hold him, relaxing against that solid chest. Simon had never felt safer in his adult life.

  Someone who loved him had him. It was a rare blessing.

  And that was a song hook if he’d ever heard one.

  Chapter 13

  Michael pottered around the house, picking up dog toys and little messes from the girls. Straightening quilts and brushing the dust off the shiny surfaces. Dishes.

  Then he went outside to sit on the back porch and have a beer while Simon slept hard.

  God, Simon was pretty when he slept, the harder lines on his face relaxing, the dark circles finally fading under his eyes. The man had been pure worn-out when he’d arrived in Colorado.

  Now he seemed to be thriving—happy and relaxed, eating well and laughing. It was a nice thought, to be all about him.

  He sipped his beer, listening to the birds, letting his mind wander.

  “Hey. Did I snore?” Simon eased down into the lawn chair beside his.

  “Hey you. You didn’t. Good nap?” He grinned over, about as happy as a man with two tails.

  “I really did.” Simon smiled right back. “Man, that felt good. What are you up to?”

  “Sitting here and enjoying the sunshine. I had a few emails to deal with, but nothing serious.”

  “Mmm. I guess I should check mine.” Simon chuckled. “I’ve been avoiding it.”

  “You don’t have, like, an assistant?” Surely Simon had an entourage.

  “I do. Minnie. She’s a hoot. You’d love her—she’s twenty-six and passionate and she wants to experience everything. There are some people who expect an answer direct from me, though.” Simon shrugged. “I’m being a bad artist.”

  “I’ll write you a note. Dear universe, Simon is sick today. Signed Epstein’s mother.”

  “I like it.” Simon chortled. “Does that make us old?”

  “We’re pre-old for our own convenience.”

  “We are.” Simon reached over to take his hand, just sitting like that, which made his cheeks hot. Who was he kidding? Everything about Simon made him heated.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me.” It was easier to admit than he’d thought it might.

  “Me too.” Those gray eyes met his. “So glad.” His grin began to grow. “You tender, babe?”

  He might have a few twinges he hadn’t had this morning. “Maybe.”

  “Uh-huh. We were enthusiastic.” Simon winked and squeezed his hand.

  “It was amazing.” He’d never felt so open, like he’d been touched so deep.

  “It was.” They sat together, just holding on. “Want to get the guitars out?”

  “God yes. Do you mind?” He didn’t want to be one of those people, but making music was his great love.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t be, like, really? Already?” Simon hopped up, looking so happy.

  “Are you kidding? I jam a shitton, especially with my girls.” He got up and followed Simon inside.

  “You don’t have a band you play with?”

  “Not really. That takes more time than I have. I have a couple of guys who’ll do weddings and parties with me. A fiddle player and a bass.” He shrugged and chuckled. “Won’t be long before I’m backing up my girls.”

  That was a neat thought—Chloe singing, Mickey on mandolin, him helping them keep time.

  “They would be so tickled.” Simon grabbed his guitar case, flicked it open.

  “They’ve never wanted to do anything but make music.”

  “Chloe wants to do all the things, right? And Mickie builds robots?” Simon glanced at him sideways.

  “Sure, but when you ask them what they want to be when they grow up? It’s make music.”

  Simon blinked. “That’s amazing.”

  “They both are. They’re little creative beasts. I’m lucky to have them.” He supposed every parent felt that way, but he was telling the truth. He was sure.

  “I’m glad you do.”

  Michael chuckled, then led the way to some comfy chairs at the end of the family room where they sat to play. “Work for you?”

  “Hell, yes.” Simon hooted as Michael pulled out paper and pencils. “We writing?”

  “If we do, might as well have a way to get it down.” He wouldn’t lie. He was excited.

  “Excellent.” Simon got tuning up. “Man, this feels good. Just to sit with you. Writing has been a pressure thing for a bit. You know, get an album out or else.”

  “Yeah, I can’t imagine. Is it different, writing a rock album?”

  “Not really. I mean, some of the stuff is a little more complicated musically if I’m going grand rock opera, but it’s all the same idea.” Simon chuckled. “Folk and country peeps tend to know their music better. Rock guys do a lot of quick notation rather than reading music.”

  “We tend to come from church, huh?” He chuckled and plucked out the first few chords of “The Old Rugged Cross.”

  “Or from choir. Or band.” They grinned at each other, probably both thinking of band camp. “Warm up with that one.” Simon knew it well, Michael remembered.

  They set to it, playing and laughing. When they found a hook, they wrote it down, singing it back and forth, playing off each other.

  They had three songs laid out and two more started by the time Michael cracked his back and listened to his belly snarl. “I’ll make us some food.”

  “I’m down.” Simon’s cell phone rang, making them both jump, as the sound seemed so at odds with what they’d been doing.

  “I’ll go put some sandwiches together,” he offered, moving to the kitchen, so pleased with Simon following him.

  “’Lo?” Simon’s official business voice was considerably different than the norm.

  He heard a lilting voice on the other end but couldn’t quite make out the words.

  “No. No, I’m fine. Uh-huh. I’m taking a breather. We didn’t have anything on the schedule. Right. Nope. Aspen. Sure. Look, I’ll call tomorrow. ’K bye.” Simon hung up and rolled his eyes. “Management is getting antsy.”

  “Is that bad?” Michael asked.

  Simon wrinkled his nose. “Nah. I just need to call and lay out the plan. They like to have a plan.”

  “I bet. You’re part of a huge machine, right?” He was part of his tiny one, so he understood a little.

  “Yeah. A lot of people work in my production line. I’ll send them a few of my recent scribbles, and they’ll be tickled.” Simon stretched up tall, that flat belly right there.

  “Good. Good deal.” Michael told himself this was a solid reminder about the truth of things—this wasn’t a long-term thing, and it never could be. Simon was a rock star. Literally.

  He was an accountant with ten acres and six cows, a horse, and chickens.

  Simon looked at him, that expression a little too knowing for his peace of mind. “How about we have a snack and you give me a tour, babe? I haven’t seen much of your place.”

  “Sure. I mean, there aren’t a lot of secrets to see—three bedrooms, two baths. But I’ll show off the critters. Mickey wants a llama for 4-H, and Chloe wants goats. I’m trying to talk them into rabbits.” Rabbits stayed in cages, and he wasn’t sure how to take care of a lla
ma.

  “Llamas. Wow.” Simon chuckled, taking his hand, those callused fingers warm from picking. “I don’t think I’ve ever been close to one.”

  “No? I have, but I’ve never tried to raise one.” Of course, he was raising two baby humans and he’d never done that either.

  “Well, this is the internet age. We’ll look it up tonight.”

  His heart squeezed a little when Simon made them a we. God.

  They made some cheese and crackers, shared a Dr Pepper, then headed out to look at his critters.

  “So the horse is Sugarbaby. He’s a gentle giant, rides like a dream.” He whistled the big ole beast up, and there he came, pushing his head right into his arms.

  “Oh, he’s gorgeous.” Simon stood back but came right to Michael when he held out his hand, trusting him. He put Simon’s hand on Sugarbaby’s nose, and Simon hummed. “Soft.”

  “He’s a sweetheart. Loves apples more than anything on earth.” He nuzzled Sugarbaby’s cheek.

  “Aw. He has good taste. Not carrots, huh?”

  “He’ll take those in a pinch, but apples are sweet.” Michael chuckled when Sugar lipped his shoulder. “When I come back, buddy. I promise.”

  He showed Simon the hint of the line of cattle in the pasture, along with the fancy-assed chicken coop he’d made for Henny Penny, Linda, Rainbow Wigglebutt, Froggie the rooster, and all their babies.

  “Rainbow Wigglebutt is the best name ever. I might title my next album that.” Simon looked half serious.

  Huh.

  “Thank Chloe for that. That’s one of hers.” She had a mind that was like a glittery trap.

  “I like it.” The chickens all had to come check out Simon, with Froggy yodeling at him a little.

  They chuckled, moving on, holding hands, and Lord it was nice. Just normal stuff.

  He’d soak as much of that up as he could.

  “This is a good place, a real good—” The pop of a flash stopped Simon short. “Goddammit!”

  Michael whirled around. “Who the hell are you?” There was a guy with a camera, and he knew it had to be a paparazzi person or a reporter, but damn it, this was his place. “This is private property.”

  “And you are?”

  “The fucking property owner. There is a no trespassing sign on the gate. I’m calling the cops.” He grabbed his phone, growling deep in his chest.

  The guy backed up several steps, but not far enough. So Michael advanced, putting distance between that man and Simon, who faded back and turned away.

  “Keep walking. I don’t take kindly to being disturbed.” And he would gladly kick this asshole’s butt.

  “What’s your relationship to Mr. McFee?” The guy snapped another picture, and this one was just of him. Simon was in the barn.

  “You ain’t got permission to use my photo. You ain’t got permission to be on my property. You best keep moving.” He wasn’t sure if he was saying the right words, but he sure meant them.

  When the guy didn’t turn tail, he finally dialed the last few digits of the non-emergency police number. He had it memorized after the Fourth of July two years ago when some kids had come onto his land three nights in a row to set off fireworks.

  Haley finally noticed they had company, running down to the end of her fenced area, howling like a hound from hell. That and Michael saying, “Yeah, hey, I need to report criminal trespassing,” got the guy to turn and beat feet back to a small rental SUV. Michael took a picture of the license plate.

  Goddamn, this was ridiculous. How the fuck had anyone found Simon way out here? This was a little, normal ranch.

  “Are you okay?” Simon asked, but he had to hold up a hand as the sheriff’s office was still on the line.

  “No, he’s gone now, but I got the license on his rental. No, he wasn’t vandalizing anything, but he was taking pictures. Yes, ma’am. Okay, thank you.” Michael hung up. “They’ll send someone out.”

  “I’m sorry…”

  “Shh. It ain’t your fault. Just breathe. You want a drink and to come in out of the sun?” He was a little shocked, but he wasn’t scared, and he wasn’t going to let Simon stress it.

  “Yeah, that sounds good.” Simon gave him the barest ghost of a smile.

  “Come on. It’s okay. I’ve called the police.” He went for easy and peaceful, even though inside he was freaking right the fuck out.

  “Yeah. Yeah, maybe something to drink. Do we have any juice?” Simon grabbed his hand.

  “Are you kidding? I have children. I have grape, apple, orange, plus crazy flavors in juice box form.”

  “Apple it is.” Simon squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry about that, honey. I got careless. I keep thinking no one can find me here.” Simon met his eyes, that gray gaze full of guilt.

  “Well, if we’re going to be an us, we’ll have to cope with this part.” He knew that. And the girls weren’t here, so that was a blessing.

  “We are? I mean, yes. We are.” Simon’s expression went from shock to pure pleasure, his smile lighting up the whole world. “I just don’t want you to be angry. I can—I can call up reinforcements.”

  “If you need to, cool. I’ll file a complaint, but I’m assuming it’ll get worse.” He wouldn’t risk his girls.

  “It will, now they know. The word spreads like wildfire.” Simon looked more settled, though. “I’ll make some calls.”

  “I’ll pour apple juice.” He figured the good part was that celebrities weren’t unheard of here in the Aspen area, so the cops that came would know what to do.

  A police SUV pulled up about half an hour later, a polite deputy taking his statement, meeting Simon, and suggesting Simon do just what he’d planned. “You say you have some private security, Mr. McFee?”

  “I do.” Simon smiled at the guy. “I’ll call someone to come in. They’ll check in with you when they get to town.”

  “Excellent. We’ll coordinate and make sure you have your privacy. It’s important to us.”

  It was pretty damned important to Michael too. He needed his girls to be safe, protected.

  “Thanks.” Simon shook the guy’s hand, and Michael walked him back to his vehicle.

  “You have a pretty good place to see them coming,” Deputy Wright said. “I take it this is new to you.”

  “Yessir. We met before, when we were kids. This is a whole new ballgame.” One he was afraid he wasn’t good at.

  “Well, I worked in Aspen proper for a bit, and before that in Tahoe. Check your six before you leave the house or a store or something, and plan an alternative route. That’s really all the planning you’ll find you need.” The guy smiled at him. “And good work getting the license plate. That will help me.”

  “No problem. Thanks for coming out, and stay safe out there.”

  He got a thumbs up, then the deputy was off and running, and Michael mounted the porch slowly, mulling it all over. Simon was worth it, but he would have to be more aware. Change a few things around so he could see the ends of the porch more easily, the path to their little barn. Maybe put up more lights and a camera.

  And he’d put a sensor at the end of the drive, so he’d know if anyone was coming. Lord have mercy. Michael made lists in his head as he made his way inside, where Simon was pouring tall glasses of iced tea and making some kind of sandwiches.

  “I thought we’d eat our feelings,” Simon said.

  “Works for me.” He could handle that. He grabbed a little pad of paper from the junk drawer and started scribbling. Lights. Camera. Sensor.

  “You okay?” Simon asked, sounding a little cautious. Worried. He hated that guardedness.

  “Yep.” He looked up. “Little wigged-out, planning for some more protection when the girls come home, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Simon paused, eyeing him with a strange expression. “That could get weird. They look a lot like me, huh? Mom was harping on it.”

  Michael nodded, trying his dead-level best not to wince. “I guess I can see that a little.” />
  “A little, huh? I can’t see anyone in Rhi’s family who has my eyes, Michael.” Simon waved at the pictures of Rhi and her parents. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

  “Don’t, Simon.” He didn’t want to lie, but he would do anything—everything—to protect his babies.

  “Don’t what?” Simon turned to face him all the way. “Don’t ask the hard questions? I can do math, Michael. They’re mine, aren’t they?”

  “Don’t make me lie to you. Those babies…they are mine.” They were the only reason he had, so many days when it was hard, when he was scared.

  “You had cancer. You told me that.”

  What was he supposed to say?

  Simon slapped a hand down on the counter, making him jump. “Damn it, Michael, would you just tell me? I need to know! I deserve to know.”

  “What the fuck do you want to know? We came home from the tour; she was knocked up. She was so happy, over the moon.”

  “So you just never told me?” Simon’s cheeks had gone from pale to bright red. “I left a number!”

  “What, exactly, did you want to hear?” He stood up, heart racing. “You got your first number one record the week she found out she was pregnant. Do you mean to tell me, for a second, that you wouldn’t have immediately said she was trying to ride your coattails?” They’d texted when he got the hit. No response. They’d understood. They were little; Simon was going to be a big deal.

  Simon’s mouth dropped open. “I wouldn’t!” Those gray eyes went stormy. “I knew better. You two were amazing.”

  “We weren’t trying to hurt anyone. She knew you were heading for the stars. I didn’t know she was too.” And after? Fuck, after he fought the urge to give up. For them.

  “I would have helped, Michael. After Rhi. I swear.” Simon’s shoulders slumped. “I… I don’t even know what to do.”

  “What is there to do? You were a new star. She was over the moon because you gave her what I couldn’t. She died the day she came home. She threw a clot. I was home. I was in the other room letting her nap, and she left me with two babies!” He let himself feel the rage that he kept under an iron-clad door. He’d lost everything. He’d fought for everything. Simon didn’t get to be hurt, goddamn it. This was his motherfucking pain. “I never even thought about you when I found her. I thought about getting my pistol and putting it in my mouth and joining her. Then Chloe started to cry. That was the only reason I didn’t do it. My girls. My angels. They are my reason.”