Chapter Seven

Why the hell was he walking across the lawn?

Because Blaise couldn’t stop himself. And because the friend—what was her name? Jenn, that was it—was giving him an excuse. He had to see his pretty neighbor up close again. The hour of the evening was in question, but hell, that never stopped him before.

“Hello.” Not his most original opener. “Enjoying the evening?”

She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and looked down at her bare legs. Her legs were long and toned. Her toes polished in red. She cleared her throat and brought his gaze back up.

“We were just going inside.” His neighbor tried to steer Jenn toward the door. Why hadn’t he asked for her name earlier?

Jenn pushed past her friend and flew down the steps. She tucked an arm through his good one. “Not at all. It’s such a beautiful night. Grace and I thought we’d have a glass of wine on the porch. Would you like some?”

Her name was Grace, and she was giving him the cold shoulder. “You got something besides wine?”

Grace’s eyebrows furrowed. Was she hoping he’d say no thank you and walk away?

“How about an iced tea, then? Doesn’t everyone in the South drink iced tea?”

“Around these parts they do.” He boosted his accent for fun.

Jenn was persistent. He’d give her that. He was used to women invading his personal space, so he laced an arm around her shoulder to see what Grace would do.

Her eyes grew to the size of cymbals, and she backed up toward the door. Okay, the arm-around-the-shoulder thing might have been a mistake. He stepped back. The face Grace made, as if he were singing out of key, gave her feelings away, and he didn’t want to run her off completely before he got a chance to get to know her a little.

“I’m heading inside. Good night.” She pulled her clothes into place and smoothed down her hair.

“Did you decide to hire Beau?” He couldn’t let her go just yet.

If he had a type, which he did not, Grace was not it. After Melissa left him, he didn’t want to be tied down or involved with another woman not even for a night, which most men would not believe. He’d run into his share of problems with a one-night stand. Anyone so uptight would never understand him or how music was in his blood and he had to be playing no matter what. No matter when. No matter where. Her blue eyes and the way she tucked her lip under her teeth made him want another look. What would one more look hurt?

She stood with her hand on the door, ready to make that quick exit. “I think I will be hiring Beau.”

“You will?” Jenn said.

“I hadn’t decided until tonight, but I don’t want to waste time searching for another contractor. The sooner we get started, the sooner I can sell.”

“You’re not planning to live here?” She was a house flipper. It was all business to her. He should’ve known. Someone like Grace wouldn’t want to stay in Heritage River. Only a special person would see the beauty of this small town. She was probably a city girl and liked the noise and the action. She probably wanted a Starbucks on every corner.

“I’ll be here through the renovations, but that’s it. I’d like to be finished before my daughter goes off to college.”

“Good luck with that,” Jenn said. “This place needs way too much work. You might be here through Christmas.”

Here through Christmas? She’d never stand it. Not that he’d be around until then either. As soon as Cash went off to school, he’d close up the house and hit the road. “Why did you choose this house to flip? There must’ve been ones that required less work.” She didn’t look like someone who got dirty doing the fixing. She stood there in crisp shorts, showing off her legs, and a sleeveless shirt that exposed her toned shoulders, but earlier she was all buttoned up in a top his third-grade teacher would’ve worn and pants that belonged in a cubicle.

“It was a gift.” Jenn picked at her nails.

“Jenn.” Grace looked as if she wanted to choke her.

He tried not to laugh. The lady didn’t like her dirty laundry hung on the line. She’d fit right in, after all.

Jenn looked at her and smirked. “It’s true. What’s the big deal?”

“Someone gave this house to you?” Blaise said. “That’s a mighty nice gift.” Maybe house flipper wasn’t her business. Then she had no idea what she’d gotten herself into.

“I’d rather not discuss it. Now if you’ll both excuse me… We have an early flight tomorrow.”

“I’m headed to the airport tomorrow morning too. Do you need a ride?” Why was he behaving like a teenager who never spoke to a girl before? He could clearly see the rental car parked in the driveway.

“Yes,” Jenn said. Of course she did.

“No, thank you.” Grace turned her back and marched inside. The door shut behind her.

“She’s not a lot of fun, is she?” He shoved his good hand into his pocket.

“She was once. Anyway, how about that iced tea?” Was she batting her eyes at him? This one was trouble. He should send her to Colton. Colton could handle trouble way better than he could.

He stared at the door. “No, thanks. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

****

He hated early mornings, which was probably why Melissa booked Cash on a flight that would force Blaise out of the house before noon. The airport buzzed around him. Haggard people dragging luggage behind them as they navigated their way. TSA agents patting down families without shoes on who just wanted to go on the vacation they had saved five years for. He wondered if Grace had arrived yet. And then decided it was better if he didn’t know. She’d be back in town, and he’d see her every day. Was that really going to be a good thing?

Blaise pulled down on his baseball cap, trying to hide his eyes, and made his way to passenger pickup downstairs.

“Hey, excuse me.” A man with thinning hair and a portly belly ran up alongside him. Blaise didn’t flinch but kept walking. “Are you Blaise Savage?” The man flashed a crooked smile and kept pace with him.

Blaise pasted on his it’s-always-great-to-meet-fans face and stepped on the escalator. “Yes, I am.” Sometimes he’d get lucky, and that’s all they wanted to know. Maybe a bet with a buddy.

But the man stuck out his hand and wobbled on the forming escalator step. “Brent.” He pumped Blaise’s hand like a well handle. “Holy shit. It’s real cool to meet you, man. I’m a huge fan.”

Blaise pulled his hand away. “Thanks.”

Brent shook his head. “My buddies won’t believe this. We’ve seen in you in concert a bunch of times. When you touring again? I heard some place you busted up your hand pretty good.”

Blaise saluted with the brace.

“That sucks,” Brent said.

The escalator dumped them off. Passenger pickup was to the right. “Looks like we hit the road again in the fall. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m picking up someone.” He tipped his hat. “Nice to meet you, Brent.” He kept his head down and navigated an escape.

Most times he didn’t mind meeting fans. They were the reason he got to play drums for a living, but on days like today when his nerves were tied up tight like old guitar strings, he wanted to blend in and not be noticed. It was the best thing about being the drummer, though. Only the true fans knew him to pick him out of a crowd. The guys up front—Colton, Troy, and Patrick—got stopped way more. But even that was happening less and less. Maybe he should’ve stopped and talked to old Brent for a minute. He wasn’t in a position to be throwing fans away.

He waited in the corner for the passengers on the LA flight to retrieve their bags. When Cash appeared, he’d move out of the shadows, but until then he’d try to stay out of sight. His heart beat in sixteen notes. His hand sweated inside his brace. He checked his phone every few seconds, as if some message from his son that he wasn’t coming would materialize. How was he going to get through the entire summer with a son he hadn’t spent enough time with?

A crowd pushed their way to the baggage carousel. Mothers dragging children, fathers staking their space out to grab their bags first. Young couples checking messages.

There he was, and Blaise’s breath caught in his throat. It didn’t matter how much time went by or how many fights they had over the phone. Every time he saw his boy, it was like the first time he held him in his arms. He was afraid to be a father then, and he was afraid to be a father now, but his heart swelled with pride as his son sauntered through the crowd.

Cash’s hair was shaved on the sides and bleached on top. He wore more black eyeliner than some women did. He dressed completely in black, his jeans with rips in them, and a bunch of black bracelets up his arm. The telltale white wires every teen dangled from their ears plugged up Cash’s. Blaise hated those damn things.

Cash had filled out since Blaise saw him last. He wasn’t all arms and legs as he had been. His graphic T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders. He’d grown taller too. Cash must be close to Blaise’s six feet. Other than sharing looks, they didn’t share much else. Cash didn’t want to play music, even though he could. Blaise had tried to encourage him, but it never stuck.

Blaise pushed away from the wall. He took a deep breath and shook out his hands. The left one protested, but he ignored the pain. “Cash.”

Cash turned in the direction of his voice. A smile crept across his face but stopped as if it had never been there. He nodded his salutation instead and grabbed his bag off the carousel.

Cash stood before him. The hint of mint and spice drifted in his direction. Was that cologne or gum? There was only one reason for a teenage boy to wear cologne. Blaise shook his head. He wasn’t ready to believe Cash might be having sex.

“Hey.” Cash stuck out his hand.

He grabbed it and pulled him into a hug, but Cash kept his arms down at his side. Blaise pushed away with heat in his cheeks. “How was your flight?” He tried to grab for Cash’s bag.

“Fine. I got this.” Cash nodded at his bum hand.

“It’s not that bad. I can take your bag.” He reached for it.

Cash switched hands. “I got it.”

He wasn’t going to make this easy. “Let’s get out of here. You want to get some lunch?”

“Nah. I ate on the plane.”

“If you change your mind, I’ve got some food back at the house. And your room is all set.”

That was met with Cash staring into his phone as they crossed the parking lot. Blaise wanted to tell him to put the phone down. He hoped for a chance to talk to his son and try to mend some fences, but he didn’t want to sound like a hard-ass two minutes in. Cash followed him out to the truck, never saying a word.

“How was school?” He tried another approach as Cash dumped his bag in the back.

“Sucked.”

“High school usually does. But you graduated. Aren’t you happy about that?” Melissa had told Blaise to stay home. Don’t fly out for graduation. Cash didn’t want him there. The words hurt, but he gave his son his wish. He had been wrong. He should’ve gone.

Cash stared out the window as they sped down the highway. The truth of his not being there for so many important things shoved its way between them. He had let too many chances to be a father slip by. Could he make up for it in one summer? Not by the scowl on Cash’s face.

“What are you going to make me do while I’m staying with you?”

He didn’t want to talk about that yet. He still needed time to decide. “For starters, we’re having dinner at Aunt Savannah’s tonight. The rest we’ll figure out.”

“Great. Can’t wait.” Cash shoved the earbuds in and turned to look out the window again.

It was a long ride back to the house.