“I usually eat with the guys. Keeps me in touch with what’s going on here.” A slow hot breeze filtered through the screen, carrying with it the scent of horses, and their pungent droppings.
“You didn’t have to hire someone for me. I don’t mind eating with the guys.”
Ryder gave her a sidelong look. She was like a teenager, all crushing on her first bad boy. “We’ll eat down there a couple times while you’re here. The food is…palatable. The company is a little less so.” He smiled. “But I’ll warn the guys to at least keep their conversations to PG-13 while you’re here.”
“Thanks.” She sat back, patting her flat belly. Hope was a big-boned girl, but she carried her weight in very attractive curves. “Your cook did a great job.”
Ryder nodded. “She took a look at what I had in the house for food, and headed to town for groceries, after creating this feast. She should be back soon, so you can talk to her about your food preferences.”
Hope lifted her arms in a stretch. “I’m going to eat like a pig while I’m here.” She dropped her arms and looked around. “I’d love to get up on a horse again. Maybe take some walks to enjoy the peace and quiet.”
“We’ll be sure you get to do all that.” Ryder hadn’t done any of those things himself lately. But he guessed Hope would prefer to have Buck as her companion, not him.
A shiny new mini-van pulled up to the foot of the steps.
Ryder’s lips curved up as he remembered Brooke’s reaction to his rental vehicle in California. Where was she now? Still back home in DC? What did she do all day, besides write songs and give guitar lessons?
“This van isn’t gonna unload itself, boss man.” Verna slid open the side door of the vehicle, her short, curly black hair making her over-sixty face look pale, but her brown eyes sparkled when she saw Hope.
Hope laughed. “Best we get busy, Ryder.” With Hope holding open the screen doors, Ryder hauled in the bags of groceries while Verna headed right inside and started putting things away.
They all convened in the kitchen once they’d hauled everything, including the lunch dishes, inside.
“Well, don’t I just feel like I’m on a red carpet somewhere.” Verna giggled. “Miss Hope, I’m a big fan, and I read somewhere that you like cheesecake.”
“I sure do. It’s my favorite.” Hope smiled as she pulled boxes, cans, and cartons from a grocery bag.
“If you’ll go sit out on the porch and give me about fifteen minutes to put everything away and unmold the cheesecake, I’ve got a homemade surprise for you.” The woman beamed at Hope. Verna hadn’t gone all ga-ga over Ryder when he’d hired her. Maybe the local boy who makes it big is not a ga-ga worthy thing in this part of the world, but a visiting superstar—hell, yeah.
“We can help with the groceries, though.” Hope stood holding two melons in front of her D-cup size breasts. She looked down, must have realized what she looked like, caught Ryder’s eye, and burst into giggles.
Verna laughed, too, but Ryder just held up his hands and backed out of the kitchen.
Hope followed him outside, and they took their places at the table. He poured her another lemonade, and himself more tea. “Guess we should talk about the song.”
She tipped her head. “I think your idea of turning it into a duet is genius.”
“I’m just glad you agreed to sing with a karaoke cowboy like me.” It’d been the first solution he’d thought of, but he’d spent days trying to come up with others. None of them made as much sense as re-releasing the song as a duet.
“I’ve heard you sing, Ryder Landry.” She looked at him sideways. “You’ve got one of the top voices out there today.”
“Coming from you, that’s high praise, Hope.” He worked up his courage. “And I appreciate you not wanting to take any of the royalties, but are you sure you don’t want to at least recoup the money you paid Brooke?”
His hand rested on the table, and she covered it with her own. “Ryder, the cancer research foundation is where the proceeds should go. I’m very happy seeing the money go to such a worthy cause.”
He turned his hand and held her fingers, a wave of emotion catching him. It was as if his mother was sitting on the porch, in her favorite rocking chair, smiling at them. “Thank you.” He couldn’t say more without his voice cracking.
She squeezed his fingers and released him. “Besides, this way, the money I paid Brooke is a tax deduction for me, and Lord knows I can use it.”
He took a deep breath, gathering himself. “I’m figuring we can knock out the music this afternoon and tomorrow. I have a basic recording room upstairs in one of the bedrooms, so we can see how it sounds before we go into the studio.”
“And that’s at Chase Tanner’s ranch?” Hope ran her thumb along the condensation dripping down the outside of her glass.
“Yep. He’s expecting us day after tomorrow, my band will be there. We’ll get the music down, then the next day, we can lay down our vocal tracks.”
“So exciting.” She rubbed her hands together. “When do we tell Brooke?”
Ryder sat back, watching a dark brown horse prancing across a paddock. “I’d like to keep it a secret from her until we sing the song live together at the Montana fundraising concert.” Tracy and Steele had organized it to benefit a camp that helped families in domestic crisis. “They’ve agreed to let us premiere the song live, the last song of the night.”
“Oh, you’re tricky. So Brooke will have no idea we’ve turned it into a duet…”
“Yep. And we’ll reveal her as the writer of the song.” He couldn’t wait to see Brooke’s face when the spotlight hit her, and she received the credit she deserved.
“Okay, I like it. How do we make sure she’s there?”
“You call her and invite her. I’ll cover her expenses, the flight, the hotel. Whatever else.” Ryder had already gotten things going, though. Two days earlier, he’d asked Tracy to invite Brooke to the event, told her not to let Brooke say no, and from what Tracy reported back, Brooke would be there. He wasn’t sure why she’d said yes, but he had to make sure she didn’t back out at the last minute. A call from Hope would accomplish that.
Hope frowned. “Why don’t you call her? Aren’t you two…?” She wagged her brows at him.
“No. It’s not like that.” He didn’t know exactly what it was like, but he didn’t have time to go over it now. “We’ll figure out the details later. Right now, let’s get started on the song.” He pulled out two lined music notebooks and gave one to Hope.
She stared out at the horizon. “This is how I hear it…”
They worked until Verna brought out homemade cheesecake with side bowls filled with cherries, strawberries, chocolate, and whipped cream, along with a pot of coffee and two cups.
“Delicious.” Hope’s eyes closed for a second as she bit into the cake. “Verna, this would win a contest.”
The older woman smiled proudly, wiping her hands on her apron. “That’s a grand compliment, ma’am. Thank you.”
“It’s Hope. And I pray that you’ll ship your cheesecakes to me after I leave here.”
Verna nodded. “We’ll figure out a way.” She went back into the house.
“You should have her out here full-time.” Hope forked another huge piece into her mouth.
“I’d be as big as a cow in no time.” He sat back. “And I like spending time with the guys.”
“You’re a surprise, Ryder.” She set her fork down. “I never pictured you so involved in your ranch.”
He did it for his mother, for her dream of their place one day being a thriving business. But mainly, he did it for himself. All the money he made from his music served as extra income, like winning the lottery. The hard work he put in at the ranch made him who he was. Maybe that’s why all the women he met didn’t seem real to him, just a part of a life he led when he wasn’t being a rancher.
“Where’d you go, Ryder?” Hope’s brown eyes watched him closely.
“Tryin
g to figure out how I ended up with a frickin’ split personality.”
****
Brooke’s phone rang as she sat on her yoga mat cross-legged, trying to find a word to rhyme with rejection. “Oh, hell. Nobody’s going to buy my broken-heart song anyway.” She read the screen. Hope? “Hi.”
“Hello!” The woman sounded more upbeat than usual. “I’ve got some news for you about the song.”
Brooke sighed and lay flat on her back, just in case the news turned out to be bad and she passed out. “Okay. Shoot.”
Hope chuckled. “It’s good news, girl. You’ll keep the payment I gave you. And Ryder and I have worked everything else out. We won’t be together until two weeks from now, in Montana, for Tracy Hartman’s fundraising concert. And we want to fly you in for the concert, then we can all sit down and talk.”
“Um, okay.” Brooke already had a flight picked out. Then Hope’s words hit her. She could keep the money? “How—?”
“Really? That easily?” Hope laughed. “You’re just going to come to the event, no questions asked?”
“Tracy already invited me, and I’d promised to be there.” She flung her forearm over her eyes. So pathetic, to jump at any excuse to see Ryder again.
“Oh. Okay, good. Then we’ll connect after the show, and we’ll explain everything, the payment for the song, the copyright, everything. It’ll be nice to see you again.” The other woman’s words came out more like a question than a statement.
“Sorry, Hope. I’m not feeling all that great today.” She’d read and re-read Ryder’s note on his picture for her mother, and, while sometimes it gave her hope, the fact that he never called her, told her it wasn’t real. He’d just been trying to be nice to Greta. Brooke couldn’t take it to heart.
“All right. Sorry to hear that, girl. I’ll let you go, but call if you want to talk, okay?”
“Sure. Bye.” She pressed the end button and set her phone down, staring at the ceiling. This was just crazy, moping around because a guy didn’t return her affections.
“Affection, rejection.” She noted the words in her notebook. “Damn.” Brooke had only two weeks to get her heart in shape before she came face-to-face with Ryder again.
Two choices faced her: one, she could eat cookies and ice cream and watch reality TV until the pain dissolved, or two, she could motivate her ass and write the best song she’d ever penned, get it recorded onto CDs, and hand it out to all the country singers who’d be in attendance at the fundraiser.
Her guitar sat on the couch behind her, and she took it down, resting it on her belly. She strummed a G. “Song about something,” she sang. “Something that will sell.” She strummed a C. “But nothing about Ryder, ‘cause he can go right to hell.” She smiled and sat up, happy that her talent for rhyming had resurfaced, even if it was that damn broken-heart shit again.
Chapter Seventeen
Two weeks later, Brooke walked into the fieldhouse at the Montana college Tracy had attended. She wore a blouse and vest, a long denim skirt, and boots, which were her idea of what a Big Sky concert-goer would wear. Every seat in the huge room had been sold, and online subscriptions to the concert numbered in the hundreds of thousands.
In the lobby, photos of the cabins at the camp, complete with happy families smiling into the camera, gave her a misty feeling. She’d love to donate more to the foundation. If only her family could have been so happy. With a grin, she remembered wishing McCrae would go live with his mother full-time, so she could have Mom and Dad to herself, instead of having all of them constantly dealing with her stepbrother’s bullshit.
To her left, the door to the VIP area stood open with two guards in front of it. She may as well use her status while she had it. Flashing her backstage pass, she walked into the room. A few dozen people stood in groups, talking. She didn’t recognize anyone, so she wandered to the food table and chose a beer from the ice bucket.
“Brooke!” Hope’s voice from across the room nearly made her drop the bottle.
She spotted Hope and they met in the middle. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“You had to come. Ryder and I have a surprise for you.” The singer smiled so wide, her eyes nearly closed.
But the way she said, “Ryder and I” gave Brooke an odd feeling. “You two met to decide what to do with the song?” She hoped her voice sounded casual.
“We met at his ranch. Have you been there? It’s so nice.” A secret smile curved Hope’s lips and her eyes looked unfocused. “The sunsets are beautiful. Long horse rides, walks through the woods.” She took in a big breath and sighed.
Brooke knew the signs of someone freshly in love. And Hope showed them all. If Brooke had been a weaker woman, she’d run back to DC right this moment. But she told herself she was jumping to conclusions. Maybe Hope had fallen headlong for Ryder, and he had no interest in her. Brooke rolled her eyes. Who was she fooling? Ryder was all about sex. A beautiful woman like Hope, on his ranch with him? But Brooke had to give Ryder a chance. She’d talk to him later, judge his reactions.
“Girl, I’ve got to get backstage. We’re all performing the first song together.” Hope squeezed Brooke’s hand. “Ryder and I will tell you all about our days on the ranch after the last number. Okay?”
“Days?” Which meant days and nights. Brooke felt the urge to throw up. “Sure. After the last number.”
“You’ve got a backstage pass. Come back during the intermission, okay?” Before Brooke could answer, Hope ducked through a back entrance, leaving Brooke shaky and near tears. Did she want to know what had happened on the ranch, or could she go her whole life without hearing those details?
An usher announced it was time to be seated, and Brooke fell into step like one of the herd. Her ticket brought her all the way up to third-row center. The first number, a group performance of one of Steele’s famous songs, brought a standing ovation.
The whole time, she kept her gaze locked on Ryder, hoping to catch him looking for her in the audience, but she knew the lights were too bright for him to see her. He looked amazing in a button-down white-and-red plaid shirt, a white cowboy hat on his head. His jeans fit him like a second skin, showing off his long legs and nice butt. Her mouth watered for just one kiss, one taste of him.
For the next hour and a half, performers took turns, in groups and individually. Chase, Hope, and a few other artists who had been tapped to appear, put on an amazing show. Brooke checked her program. The last performance before the intermission was Steele. She loved his music. But he didn’t take the stage right away. Was there a problem?
****
“Ryder, you know the song.” Steele stood backstage next to Ryder holding an acoustic guitar out for him to take. “You have to play for me.” His half-brother held up his left hand. A flesh-colored bandage wrapped his middle finger from the tip to the second knuckle.
“What?” Ryder shook his head. He hadn’t practiced it since the night at the McLairn Ranch when they went over the song lyrics and music together. “You’ve got to have the music recorded somewhere.”
“There’s no time. Ryder, please. The audience is waiting.” They’d actually started chanting “Ste-el” over and over.
Hell, it wasn’t Steele’s fault his guitar player had fallen and broken his wrist backstage. Ryder grabbed the guitar. “Music?”
“It’s out on the stand in front of the stool.” On the stage, a tall mic stood next to a guitar-level mic stand, a music holder, and a stool. “Let me go out first.” Steele’s gaze locked with his for a long silent moment as he grasped Ryder’s shoulder. “This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”
Ryder lifted his brows. “What, sing this new song, or have me backing you up?”
Steele turned and ran out onto the stage. The crowd went crazy, standing and shouting.
“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He motioned to Ryder. “I’ve got a new guitar player I want to introduce you to.”
The crowd got even louder, shouting “Ryder�
� and pointing at him as he walked out on stage. He lifted a hand in greeting, then sat and arranged the guitar, quickly scanning through the sheets of music.
“Any time you’re ready, buddy.” Steele looked down at him.
Ryder had to tip his head way back to see Steele, so he pulled off his hat and dropped it behind him.
“Hat hair.” Steele spoke the words into the mic. The crowd went wild.
Ryder grinned and ran his hand over his head a couple times. “Just sing, old man.” No one heard him but Steele, who laughed, and started the song a capella.
Ryder jumped in at the second measure, and they got through the song with only a few corrections from Steele. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been just this crowd, but nearly half a million home viewers were watching, and it was being recorded to sell on DVD for additional income for the foundation.
When the audience broke into applause and shouts, Ryder handed the guitar to a roadie, picked up his hat, and stood back, applauding Steele. It was a hell of a good song. The man had manic talent.
“Let me introduce my guitar player.” Steele held out his arm, and Ryder walked up to him. “Can I get the house lights please?” Steele slung his arm across Ryder’s back, his hand grasping his shoulder.
Half the fieldhouse lights went on, and from the stage, they could see the crowd. Where was Brooke? His gaze ran down each row.
“I want to introduce my family.” Steele started breathing fast.
Ryder looked at him. “You okay?” he whispered.
Steele’s lips thinned, his eyes widened, and his face paled. The look Steele gave him scared the shit out of Ryder. “Steele?”
His brother pointed to the audience. “My father, Angus, and my sister Val.”
In the first row, the two of them stood, holding hands, staring hard at the stage, not acknowledging the applause.
What the fuck was happening?
Steele’s arm shook a bit.
The crowd went silent.
No fucking way was Steele going to—
“And this is my brother. My half-brother. Ryder Landry.” His voice echoed through the room, coming back to hit Ryder smack between the eyes.
Rough Ryder Page 15