by Elks, Carrie
Gray shook his head at it all. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with,” he protested. “Let me help.”
“Dad’s proud. You know that.” Becca sighed. “He keeps saying he’ll repair everything when he’s better. But he’s never really better, you know?”
Yeah, Gray knew. Or at least he did now. Much like the state of this house, his father’s health had also come as a shock. “I’ll talk to him,” Gray said, his voice determined.
“And rile him up while he’s sick?” Aunt Gina asked. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you shouldn’t be living like this,” Gray told her. “This is the twenty-first century. We’re in the greatest country on Earth. And I can fucking afford it.”
“Language.” Becca raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “But this makes me so fu… damn mad. Dad’s pride is stopping you from living like civilized people.” He put his coffee down. “Just let me talk to him, okay? I won’t shout or rile him up. I promise.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
Gray half-smiled. “Well this time I mean it.”
“Let him go,” Tanner said, leaning back on his chair. “Maybe he can persuade the old man. God knows I’ve tried.”
“It’s all right for you,” Aunt Gina said, her brows knitting together. “You don’t have to live with him full time. You’ll be leaving soon and Becca and I will be the ones left sweeping up the pieces if you drive him crazy.”
“You two don’t have to stay either,” Gray pointed out. “You know I’d buy you a house anywhere. Just say the word.”
“I’d never leave him.” Aunt Gina crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You know that.”
Gray’s heart softened at her loyalty. He knew it wasn’t for show, either. Growing up, Aunt Gina had been like their guardian angel, taking care of them when they needed her the most.
She’d arrived at their home the day after their mother – her sister – died, and never left. From that moment on, she’d taken care of them. Wiping their eyes with her handkerchief at their mother’s funeral, holding them tight when bad dreams had woken them in the middle of the night. Chided them when they hadn’t handed in their assignments on time, or when the principal called to tell her one of the four Hartson brothers was missing from class.
She’d eased their heartbreak and cheered their victories, and every one of them loved her for it.
“Why do you stay?” Gray asked her. “Most of us left long ago. Even Becca will move on soon. You’ve fulfilled your promise to mom.”
From the corner of his eye he could see Becca’s face crumple. She’d been so small when their mom died she couldn’t even remember her. Aunt Gina was the only mother figure she’d ever known.
“I promised my sister I’d take care of all of you,” Aunt Gina said, her voice low. “That includes your father. And he needs me.” She stood and carried her plate over to the sink. “I’ll be here for as long as he does.”
“In that case, I’m paying for new plumbing. And a roof,” Gray told her. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll go talk to him now.”
She shook her head as he stood and walked into the hallway, heading for his father’s study. As he lifted his hand to rap on the door, he could hear her response.
“They’re both as stubborn as each other. This will all end in tears.”
* * *
When Gray was twenty-years-old, he’d told his father he was leaving college to move to L.A. and record an album, having been offered a two-album recording contract by one of the country’s biggest record labels.
His father had said nothing for a full five minutes. Just stared at Gray through those watery blue eyes, his lips pressed together, the right side of his jaw twitching.
More than a decade had passed since then, but his dad was staring at Gray in exactly the same way. Like Gray was nothing more than the shit on the sole of his shoe and he was waiting for the opportunity to scrape him off.
But there was a problem with that. Gray wasn’t scared of the old man anymore. And he had Aunt Gina to think of. He wasn’t going to leave her and Becca here in this broken down house while they took care of his dad. She deserved better than that.
They all did.
“No.”
The reply was faint enough for Gray to have to lean forward, his strong body towering over his father. “What?”
“I said no. We don’t need your help. Never have.” His father coughed and his whole body shook. If it had been anybody else in the world, Gray would have asked if he was okay, but he knew better than to do that to his dad. Compassion equaled weakness in Grayson Hartson III’s eyes. Any emotion did.
“This house is falling apart. And from what I can tell, there isn’t any money left to repair it. You need my help.”
“I don’t need any help.” His dad’s eyes were flinty. “You think you’re a big man, flashing cash around? Think it makes you better than me? That money you got is tainted. I don’t want any part of it.”
Gray frowned. “Tainted? How?”
“It’s not properly earned.”
“I’ve earned every cent. Wrote songs, recorded them, traveled all over the world promoting them.” His father was pulling him in to this, Gray knew it, yet it was impossible to stop. The old man knew how to push every button, and each one of them hurt.
“You prostituted yourself. You think I haven’t seen the photographs? You parade yourself around until girls throw money at you.” His dad’s eyes narrowed. “And now you want me to take that money? No thank you. I don’t take the devil’s dollar.”
Gray wasn’t sure whether to laugh or shout. The devil’s dollar? It was a pretty good name for an album, but a really shitty way to describe your son.
“So you’d rather let Aunt Gina and Becca live in squalor?” Christ, his father was stubborn. But then again, he was, too. The streak ran through the veins of all the Hartsons, and it made for some spectacular clashes.
Maybe he should leave early. Get the hell out of here and on a plane to L.A. He could be sitting on his balcony, strumming his guitar, writing new music as he overlooked the ocean.
“I’ll be better soon enough,” his old man said, squaring his shoulders even though he was propped up in bed. “I’ll fix it up then. The way I always have.”
The way he said it, Gray almost believed him. He was pretty sure his dad believed it, too. But you only had to look at him in that bed, his body frail and wasted, his face lined with age to know it wasn’t the truth. There was no way he was climbing on the roof or replacing pipes.
Gray swallowed down the compassion that tried to rise up in him. Covered it up with a shrug. “I’ll do it,” he said.
“Do what?”
“I’ll replace the pipes. Mend the roof.”
His father coughed out a laugh. “You’ll do it? Seriously? You’ve never done a day of manual work in your life. You know how to cut through pipes? Weld them together?” Another cough. “I’d like to see you try.”
“I said I’ll do it and I will.” Gray took a deep breath, his jaw square, his chest pushed out.
He wasn’t sure who was more surprised at his determination – his father or himself. Either way, he had to swallow down the taste of frustration that always seemed to settle on him whenever he spoke to his father.
“Be my guest. I could do with some entertainment around here.”
Gray shrugged and walked out of his father’s study, the walls pushing in on him as he emerged into the hallway.
He needed to get out of here for a while. This house was making him feel stir crazy.
* * *
Maddie walked into the diner through the kitchen door, calling out to Murphy to let him know she was back. He looked up and beckoned her to the door that led to the diner. “Who d’ya think that is?” he asked, pointing at somebody sitting in the corner booth. “He was asking for Cora Jean.” He lowered his voice. “You don’t think he’s one of them
gold diggers, do you? After her for her money?”
Maddie tried not to laugh. Cora Jean had a small pension and the money she earned from working at the diner. She wasn’t exactly sugar momma material.
Looking across to where Murphy was pointing, Maddie knew exactly who that was with his broad back and brown hair that curled at the top of his neck. He was wearing a dark blue cap, the peak pulled low over his face, and his head was angled down as though he was reading the menu in front of him intently. It allowed her to study him for a moment, to take in the muscles of his back, the tattoos that were almost-but-not-quite covered up by the sleeves of his black tee. She wondered what it would feel like to trace her finger across the ink.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Maddie told Murphy, sliding her bag into a locker, and grabbing a fresh apron from the hook. “I’ll see if he wants coffee.”
“Try to sell him some waffles. I made too much mix up.”
“How much is too much?” Maddie asked him, curious.
“About five quarts.” Murphy shrugged. “It’s been quiet in here today.”
Maddie grinned and pushed through the metal double doors into the main diner. Murphy was right, it was as quiet as hell in here. That was Tuesdays for you.
“Coffee?” she asked, carrying a full pot over to the only occupied table.
Gray looked up, a slow smile curling his lips. “Cora Jean,” he said. “How’re you doing?”
His eyes caught hers and she felt her skin tingle. Even with the peak of his cap pulled low he was ridiculously handsome. She wanted to throw a damn bucket of water over herself. Yeah, he was good looking, but she’d met a lot of good looking guys.
Though, none of them had ever made her body tingle like this.
“Black. No sugar, right?”
“You got it.”
She poured out a mugful, then inclined her head at the menu in front of him. “Can I get you something to eat?”
“Pour yourself a cup and sit with me,” Gray said, his eyes still on hers. “Maddie.”
She’d been expecting it. You didn’t stay in town for long and not find out everything, and Gray wasn’t stupid. Yet she still felt her stomach drop as he said her name. Not because he didn’t say it beautifully – he did. But because it meant she had to be herself.
Lame old Maddie Clark.
She’d kind of enjoyed being intrepid Cora, leading him astray.
“I have to work,” she told him.
He looked around the diner. “You’re not exactly rushing around in here. I’ll buy you breakfast. Name your poison.”
“I hear the waffles are good,” she said, her mouth quirking with humor.
“Better than the eggs?”
“Anything’s better than the eggs.” His eyes caught hers and she found herself blushing. He had an irresistible charm to him. One that made children grin and young girls swoon and older women spend a helluva lot of money on his music.
“Two servings of waffles it is.”
She gave Murphy the order, then grabbed herself a mug for coffee. “You’re brave sitting by the window,” she told him. “After Sunday I thought you might want to lay low.”
“I figure most of those girls are at school right now. And I wanted to see you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “You did?”
“Yeah. I got a question for you.”
“I might not want to answer it,” she told him, tipping her head to the side. He smiled again, a sunshine kind of smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes.
“I’m getting that feeling when it comes to you.” He leaned his chin on his knuckles and leaned forward, his eyes narrow as they caught hers. “But I figure you owe me the truth.”
“How’d you figure that?”
He leaned back, sizing her up. “Because we trauma bonded on Sunday. You don’t go through something like that without building a connection with someone.”
“We climbed over a couple of fences.”
“And nearly got mauled by a ferocious dog.” He took a sip of his coffee, raising an eyebrow.
“An incontinent dog who’s lost most of his teeth.”
“See.” A glint of amusement flashed in his eyes. “That’s scary shit.”
She laughed. Couldn’t help it. There was something about him that made it easy to breathe. He was a human oxygen machine, making her feel lighter than air. “Okay, so we’ve trauma bonded. Surely that means you should go easy on me.”
“I’ll go really easy on you.” His voice was sugary low. She could feel it on her teeth. “So why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“Because you would have asked questions I didn’t want to answer.”
“Cute.” He grinned again. “Let me guess. You thought I’d ask about your sister?”
She tightened her hold on her mug. “Wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t need to know about Ash. I’m pretty sure she’s married with kids. Probably living in a huge house a few miles away from here. She volunteers at her kids’ school, maybe for a well-chosen charity or two – nothing controversial. And she spends every Friday at the salon getting ready for date night with her husband.”
Maddie frowned. “How do you know? Have you been asking other people about her?”
“Nope.” Gray leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. She tried to ignore the way his biceps flexed as he did it. “It’s what she always wanted. And Ash always gets what she wants.”
Except you. Maddie blinked at the thought. “I guess that’s not what you wanted.”
He shook his head. “I’m not a small town kind of guy.”
There was no arguing with that. Gray Hartson didn’t belong around here. He was too talented, too good looking, too… everything. He seemed to dwarf everything and everyone he came into contact with.
“So why are you here?” she asked him.
“When dad got sick, Becca asked me to come. So I stopped in on my way home to L.A.”
“Will you be leaving soon?”
He shook his head. “Not that soon.” He looked down at his cup, ran his finger around the rim. “I’m staying in town for a while.”
“How long?” Her chest tightened. She couldn’t quite work out why. Was it fear, excitement, nervousness? All of them seemed to rush through her in a heady cocktail.
Fear because him staying here meant change. It meant he and Ashleigh would see one another again and even though Ash was married, she’d probably entrance him.
Excitement because being close to Gray was like hanging upside down on a gravity-defying rollercoaster. It made her heart race and her blood pump in a way she’d never felt before.
And nervousness? Well she didn’t like feeling out of control. She’d tried that before and fallen low, low, low.
“For a couple of months. Long enough to work on some new songs and help fix up the old house. It needs new pipes and a new roof. I thought I’d help out.”
“Help out how?” Maddie asked. “You gonna supervise the contractors?”
“I’m going to do it myself.” He ran the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip, capturing a bead of coffee.
She had to press her lips together not to laugh. “Yourself?” She tried to imagine it. Grammy award winning Gray Hartson on his childhood home’s old broken roof, a tool belt around his waist… If she took that photo she’d make enough money to pay for her mom’s medications for the rest of their lives. “Why?”
“Dad won’t let anybody else do it. You know what he’s like.” Gray shrugged.
“Have you ever renovated a house before?” she asked him.
“Kinda.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I did some work on my first place in L.A. And I have a few friends who can help me out. You know the Johnson brothers?”
“The ones with the TV show?” Maddie asked. “How To Flip Your House in Thirty Days?”
“Yeah, that one. They’re gonna talk me through anything I can’t figure out. I’ll video chat them if I need
to. How hard can it be?”
“Waffles are ready!” Murphy shouted from the open kitchen door. “I’ve been ringing for you, Maddie.”
“Saved by the bell.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Stay here and I’ll bring your breakfast over.”
Chapter Nine
“Have you seen this?” Becca asked Gray when he made it home from town. She was holding out her phone and he leaned in to look at it.
“An email?” Gray said.
“Yep. From Reverend Maitland. Reminding his flock that we should be respectful to all visitors in town and make them welcome, not take photographs and share them on social media.”
Gray frowned. “Does he mention me?”
“No, but we all know it’s you he’s talking about.” Becca’s voice was gleeful. “I guess he doesn’t want you running through anybody’s yard again.”
“This is really unnecessary,” Gray said, scanning through the missive. “Just as Jesus welcomed everybody into his flock, we should do the same,” he read. “Please do not encroach on anybody’s privacy in church or outside of it.”
“Reverend Maitland’s emails are like papal edicts.” Becca was still grinning. “His word is law. People will leave you alone now.”
“Oh come on.” Gray handed back her phone. “This is the twenty-first century.”
“This is Hartson’s Creek,” Becca pointed out. “And as you keep reminding us, it hasn’t quite made it past the millennium yet.”
Gray’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see his manager’s name flashing on the screen. Swiping his finger, he answered it.
“Marco?”
“I got your message. You’re not serious about replacing those pipes and fixing the roof, are you?”
“I’m deadly serious.” Gray leaned on the kitchen table. “I promised my dad.”
“But you have an album to write,” Marco reminded him. “The recording studio is booked. Your label’s gonna be pissed if we pull out.”