“Can we go, Daddy? We’re going, right?”
Ethan pondered that learning-to-say-no-to-his-daughter thing, then nodded. “Sure.”
Which resulted in more ear splitting squealing from Zoey and a wide smile from Riley’s agent.
“Wonderful. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Ethan wandered away, wishing he’d never come today. Seeing Riley again had been bad enough. She looked beautiful. She’d always been beautiful, but she’d grown up, lost the roundness of her teen years. Now she sparkled like a woman, curved in all the right places. Her hair waved around her face and shoulders, still that honey-wheat blond. He was surprised she didn’t color it since she was famous now. Didn’t all women change their hair seemingly every month or so? Hers was still the same color he’d always loved.
Her blue eyes still mesmerized and tongue-tied him. She didn’t have on too much makeup like those rock stars and television people wore. She still looked like Riley, she’d just grown into herself more.
And a minute with her had brought back a lifetime of painful memories.
Now they’d have to go to her concert, where he’d have to listen to her sing all the songs she’d written about him.
Live. Where he couldn’t turn her off and walk away.
Great. Just freakin’ great.
He took the shortcut through the drugstore’s back door, knowing Missy and Bob wouldn’t mind. They were all busy ogling Riley and nobody locked anything up around here anyway. Zoey’s hand in his, he cut through the side streets and walked up the concrete steps of his parents’ house.
They had decided not to pay homage to Riley Jensen, mainly because his dad’s knee was giving him trouble today and his mom said she had some pies she wanted to bake. Ethan figured the real reason was they thought it would hurt him if they went to see her.
He pushed open the front door. The living room, looking so much like it had when he was a kid, was empty. “Mom? Dad?”
“Back here,” his mom called from the kitchen.
Zoey let go of his hand, her gloves and hat flying as she ran down the hallway. Ethan picked them up, shed his coat, hung it up and put Zoey’s gloves and hat on the table near the front door. Where they belonged. By the time he made it into the kitchen, Zoey was sitting at the table with a cup of hot chocolate in her hand and a wide grin on her cherry-tinged face.
“And then Riley gave us tickets to her concert, didn’t she, Daddy?”
Ethan knew Zoey would give his parents a rapid-fire summary of her meeting with Riley.
“She sure did.”
Ethan’s mother raised a brow. “Is that right? Well, isn’t that nice?”
“It sure is,” Zoey said. “And we get to go behind the stage and see her dressing room and hang out there the whole show. Don’t we, Daddy?”
“Uh huh.”
He got a sympathetic look from his dad on that one.
“Hey, muffin, how about you come down in the basement with me and help me work on Grandma’s dryer? You can hand me the tools.”
“Okay, Papa.” Zoey scooted off the stool and followed Ethan’s dad down into the basement, leaving him alone with his mom, who poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the kitchen table.
“Why in the world would you take Zoey to meet Riley?”
He shrugged. “She wanted to go.”
“And you obviously haven’t learned to say no to that child yet.”
“I say no on some things.” Like when she wanted to dart out in the middle of the street into oncoming traffic or play with razor blades.
“Spoiling her isn’t going to bring her mother back, Ethan. She needs boundaries. She needs to know that you care enough about her to give her limits.”
“She’s not exactly a brat, Mom. She’s a great kid.”
“That she is. But giving her everything in the world still isn’t going to bring Amanda back from the dead. And speaking of that, does Riley know?”
“About Amanda? No. We barely spoke a word to each other before the mayor dragged her away.”
His mother hmphed, then rose and put her cup in the sink so she could resume stirring whatever smelled really good in the pot on the stove. “Not surprising that Shims would want to get his face in front of the camera. Better him than you and Zoey, anyway. Are you going to take her to the concert?”
“I guess. Zoey does love her music.”
His mother stirred. And stirred mentally, too. Ethan could tell because she went quiet like she always did when she was thinking.
“What?”
She half turned. “Huh?”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m wondering what all this means.”
“What what means?”
“Riley coming back to town.”
His mother always had a point. Ethan just had no idea what it was yet. “She’s here to film some stuff about a biography. She’ll be gone soon.”
“Uh huh. Everything happens for a reason, Ethan.”
“Her being here means nothing, Mom.” He rose and rinsed his cup. “I gotta get to work. I’ll be by to pick up Zoey later.”
“Okay. Be careful.”
“Always.”
He dashed downstairs to say goodbye to Zoey and his dad, then climbed into his truck and drove to his office, the pride puffing up his chest the minute he saw the Kent Construction sign on the brick building. The building housing the office wasn’t huge, but it was theirs. The real work was done on the job site. His oldest brother, Wyatt, was already at work studying blueprints.
“Morning,” he said to his brother.
“If you say so.”
“Rough night?”
He got a grunt in response, but since Wyatt had chosen the extra large cup for his coffee this morning, Ethan assumed he’d been down at Stokey’s bar the night before, no doubt continuing his quest to forget he’d ever been married.
From the looks of his brother, that still wasn’t going well.
He’d always loved working with his brothers, even though sometimes they were a giant pain in the ass. But they’d rallied around him after Amanda died, just like they’d all rallied around Wyatt after his divorce.
Not that Wyatt wanted any rallying. He just wanted to be left alone and had thrown himself into the business during the day and making a great attempt at partying his ass off at night, which Ethan supposed was a way to shut out the pain. Ethan hadn’t had the luxury of that. He had Zoey to deal with. With no kids, Wyatt could handle his pain however he wanted. And he handled it with work, work and more work. And then play, play and more play, which Ethan knew was just a smokescreen.
Wyatt wasn’t really having any fun.
Frankly, Ethan thought it might be a good idea if Wyatt actually had a conversation with Cassandra. They’d divorced two years ago and gone their separate ways. She lived on the north side of the lake now and as far as Ethan knew they hadn’t spoken a word to each other since the lawyers haggled out the settlement.
Closure was a good thing, or so he’d heard. Ethan had even tried talking to Wyatt about it. Wyatt had told him where to stick that suggestion.
Then again, now that Riley was back in town, Ethan finally realized that whole closure thing? Probably not a good idea after all.
“Where’s Brody?” Ethan asked.
“On a job site.” Wyatt didn’t bother lifting his head from the prints. That would require engaging someone in face-to-face conversation.
“Which one?” Ethan took off his coat and pulled the permits he needed to take to a site today.
“The MacKenzie one. Foreman pitching a fit about a couple of the hands, so Brody went to unruffle some feathers.”
“Okay. Tori coming in today?”
“Any minute now.”
Ethan had just booted the system up. “I need to look at the books.”
“You got a death wish, man? You know how she gets if someone messes with the system. You want to be on the receiving end of one of her tirades?”
“Good point.” Ethan kicked the chair away from the laptop and went for the printout instead. The last thing he wanted was to get on Tori’s bad side. She might be no more than twenty or whatever, but she had a head for numbers and a temper that made good on the old Irish and redhead adage. The only one who ever went toe to toe with her was Brody, mainly because he liked to rile her up. Ethan and Wyatt tiptoed around her.
Just as he got the paperwork out Tori walked in, always a tornado in the making, both arms loaded down with bags, popping her gum, her wild red hair spilling down her back.
Tori could have worked for the FBI. She could tell in a half a second when something on her desk had been disturbed. Her green eyes flashed in Ethan’s direction.
“You touch my laptop?”
“Do I look like I fear death?”
She snickered. “How about you, Wyatt?”
“Not on your life, sweet pea.”
“Where’s your idiot brother?”
“Job site.”
“Good.” She cracked her knuckles and sat down at the desk.
Never a dull moment at the office.
“Heard Riley’s back in town,” Tori said.
Word spread fast around here. Ethan looked up to see Wyatt’s distinct lack of interest as he buried his face in his work.
“Yeah.”
“You see her yet?”
“Zoey and I ran into her this morning.”
That got his brother’s attention. And a frown. “Don’t even go there, Ethan.”
“I’m not going anywhere with her. Except to her concert.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. Tori grinned and said, “That’s interesting.”
“Not interesting at all. Zoey’s a fan.”
“Uh huh.”
“Really. That’s it. Riley and me are in the past.”
Wyatt shook his head and Tori snickered.
It was a good thing he had work to do out of the office today.
It was past ten p.m. when he finally got back from a job site in northern Arkansas, so he called his mom who said Zoey could stay over. She often stayed at his parents anyway, whether she was in school or not. And since she was out for holiday break it worked out well for her to hang out with his mom and dad.
He took the long way home, driving through Center Street, with its quaint old storefronts and the town square, the kind of small town people saw in movies and thought wasn’t real.
It was real, and it was home to him. As he left the old town and pulled onto the main highway, he passed one of the hotels and saw Riley’s tour bus parked at the new bed and breakfast.
Kent Construction had refurbished the old Victorian for Bill and Macy Grant three years ago. A rambling, beautiful three story, Bill and Macy had retired and bought the house with the intent of going into the hospitality business during their golden years.
Guess that’s where Riley and her entourage had decided to stay. Good for Bill and Macy. He hoped Riley was paying them a lot of money. She probably had plenty to spend.
Not that he cared how much money she had, or anything about Riley. He just hoped her visit was short so he could stop thinking about her at all.
Chapter Three
Yesterday had been brutal. After interviews with the mayor, a few former teachers, and then one-on-one’s with the biography host where she asked Riley probing questions about her childhood, teen years and home town, Riley had had enough and needed a break. They’d dragged her all over town so they could get shots of her in front of all the major places in her life from the playground to one of her foster parents’ homes to the high school.
Ugh. Nightmarish. Joann had had to kick her once when she rolled her eyes, but really? Maybe no one would be interested enough in her life so far to even watch.
If she was lucky.
She told them no interviews today. She told Joann she needed some free time before the concert tonight, so she made up some flimsy excuse about heading into town to reconnect with her roots, to gain some fresh perspective so she could give some good interviews to the bio team. Joann thought that was an awesome idea.
Ha. Fooled her.
There were no roots to connect with, no people she’d stayed in touch with, and not a single person was interested in seeing her. Correction—they might be interested in hanging with her if there was a camera crew nearby, but no one would want to sit and talk to her.
She had no friends here.
She climbed into old, worn jeans, her boots and a warm coat, and put on a hat because damn it was cold outside. When she parked one of the rental cars on Central and got out, she peered up at the gray skies. Dismal clouds gathered and hung low, threatening bad weather later and obliterating whatever sun might have warmed the day.
Wind was coming in from the north.
Snow was coming.
When was the last time she got to sit outside and judge the upcoming weather? When she was home in Nashville she was secluded inside from the prying eyes of the paparazzi so she habitually stayed indoors. She might go out back once in a while early in the morning, but mostly when she got a chance to go home she slept, exhausted from being on the road. So she missed a lot of mornings. And when she was done sleeping, she buried herself in her work at the studio.
Despite the bitter cold today, it felt good to be outside, to be breathing actual air, to be able to lift her head and study the shifting clouds and think about coming storms. She remembered hanging out with Ethan and Amanda and her other friends, trying to guess when the first winter snow would hit.
Soon, it looked like. Judging from the cheerful expressions of everyone out on the street, they seemed to be happy about it. Then again, maybe they were always happy. She had no idea. She no longer knew these people. She dragged the cap over her ears and slunk into her coat. She’d braided her hair today and worn no makeup. They’d expect Riley the star, not Riley the schlub.