Hideaway Heart (Cherry Tree Harbor Book 2)

WE REACHED Nashville around seven o’clock the following evening. Crazy as it sounds, the twelve-hour drive seemed to fly by. I found myself easing off the gas just to prolong the time alone with her. Somehow, I felt like things wouldn’t be the same once she was back in her celebrity world. Maybe she wouldn’t want me the same way.

As we pulled up to the gate at the foot of Kelly’s driveway, I rolled down the minivan’s window. “What’s the code?”

“My birthday. Twelve, twenty.”

I took a second to glare at her. “That needs to be changed.”

“I wanted something easy to remember,” she said defensively. “But okay, we can change it.”

I punched the numbers on the keypad and pulled into the driveway, which curved around in front of a large, two-story home built with pale bricks. It had a three-car garage on one side, tall arched windows on the first floor, and beautiful landscaping. “Nice place you have here.”

“Thanks. I just bought it last spring. I’m not sure it feels like home yet.”

“Sometimes that takes a while. Where should I park?”

“You can pull up by the front door. Jess will return the van, and I have cars you can use while you’re here.” She unbuckled her seatbelt as I put the van in park. But even after I turned off the engine, she stayed in the passenger seat, making no move to get out. She just stared out the window at her big, beautiful house.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I just don’t really want to go in.”

“How come?”

“I can’t even put a finger on it, really. Maybe it’s just the whole going back to real life after being on vacation. Having to deal with people day in, day out.” She looked at me. “I miss the cabin already.”

I laughed. “I bet once you get inside this house, you won’t miss it. You probably have at least four bedrooms—”

“Five.”

“And five bathrooms too.”

She smiled. “Six, actually.”

“See? How about a kitchen table?”

“Yeah.”

“And air conditioning.”

“That too.”

“And I bet you’ve even got a swimming pool. A grand piano. A fucking library.”

She nodded. “Check, check, check.”

“You won’t miss that cabin, Kelly.”

“Maybe you’re right. I do like my piano.” She took my hand. “I guess I’ll just miss our time together.”

My heart tripped over its next few beats. “Me too.”

She kept looking at our hands. “Xander, I—”

“There you are!” A woman appeared in the front door of the house. “I’ve been frantically worried about you on the road all day!”

Kelly sighed, taking her hand from mine. “Come on. Time to meet my mother.”

That night, we had dinner at the dining room table with her parents and her business manager, Wags. As we ate the chef-prepared meal, I mostly stayed quiet, observing the others.

Kelly’s mom, Julia, was probably over fifty, but she had tight, clear skin that looked as if she rarely saw the sun and often saw the dermatologist. Looking at her, it was obvious where Kelly had gotten the fair complexion, red hair, and emerald eyes. But after meeting her dad, Connor, I saw where she’d gotten her full-lipped smile, the grit in her voice, and the gift of charming anyone she spoke to. He was exactly as she’d described him to me—handsome, outspoken, charismatic, with a firm handshake and a genuine good-old-boy grin that made him look younger than his age, which Kelly had told me was fifty-six.

I’d been prepared to dislike him but found it difficult at first, to be honest. He was good with words and had a quick wit, bantering back and forth with his wife, his daughter, her manager, even me. He didn’t try to dominate the conversation like a lot of men would. He didn’t seem interested in trying to prove he was the alpha at the table. He was easygoing and laidback, and when he asked you a question, he had a way of making eye contact as you answered that made you feel like he was really listening. Still, I knew what I knew, and I didn’t trust him.

Wags, Kelly’s manager, seemed like a good guy, sort of a second father figure. He wasn’t charming like Kelly’s dad, but he seemed solid and steady. My gut said he was a good guy.

“So you had a good trip, peanut?” Connor asked his daughter.

“Yes.” Kelly took a sip of her water. “I wouldn’t have cut it short if it wasn’t for the awards show performance.”

“What a lucky break,” Julia said.

“It’s not luck, it’s talent,” said Connor. “Right, Wags?”

“Right.”

“And it doesn’t hurt to have Duke Pruitt pulling strings for you, either.” Connor winked at Kelly and lifted his whiskey, which he liked neat.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” she agreed.

“He thinks you should sign that PMG deal.”

“You talked about it with him?” Kelly’s tone took on a sharp edge.

“A little. He’s got so much experience, you know? I figured it would be good to get his input.”

“I don’t need his input, Daddy. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about me with him. We’re not together anymore.”

“Now, peanut, don’t get upset. I’m only trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help with this. Or Duke’s.”

“You shouldn’t go into those negotiations alone. When’s the next meeting with the label?”

“I don’t remember,” she said stiffly, and I could tell she was lying.

“I think Duke mentioned it’s coming up next month,” Connor went on, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

“Could be.”

“I’ll be with her,” Wags said. “No need to worry. She won’t be alone.”

“Good.” Connor nodded. “I just don’t want her to make a mistake she’ll regret later.”

Kelly stood up. “I’m tired after the long drive. I’m going to bed.” She looked at me. “Xander, come on upstairs. I’ll show you where your room is.”

I gladly rose to my feet.

“Goodnight, Xander,” Julia said. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her in the woods, and for bringing her back safely. I was so relieved when she said she wasn’t driving back alone.”

“Of course.”

“And you’re going to stay a few days, is that right?” Wags asked. “Get new security measures for her in place?”

“That’s right.”

Her dad spoke up. “That seems like a big imposition on you, Xander. You know, Duke offered to send some of his guys over to—”

“I don’t want Duke’s help, Daddy,” Kelly said sharply. “Xander is here, and he’s going to handle it.” She looked at me. “Let’s go.”

I followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom. She shut the door behind me and leaned back against it, squeezing her eyes shut. “Take me back to the cabin.”

“Jesus. Do your parents have to live with you?”

She exhaled. “No. But I can’t kick them out.”

“I think maybe you can.”

Pushing off the door, she moved toward me and looped her arms around my torso, laying her cheek on my chest. “My dad will be gone soon. He never stays around long. As soon as I tell him I’m not giving him the money for his new business scheme, he’ll take off. And my mom isn’t so bad.”

I kissed the top of her head and stroked her back. “Your call. You did a good job of speaking your mind at the table, by the way. I was proud of you.”

“I didn’t say all the things I wanted to.”

“Maybe not, but you didn’t just sit there and let him treat you like a child. It’s a start. Give yourself some credit.”

“Thanks. By the way, I don’t really want you to stay in a different room. I just didn’t want their questions. Stay in here with me.”

“I’ll stay wherever you want me to.”

“Right here. Please.” Her body relaxed against mine. “My safe place.”

Long after we turned out the light, got under the covers, and reached for each other in the dark, her words stayed with me.

I liked being her safe place. I worried about what would happen when I was gone. I hated the fact that I probably wouldn’t see her again once I left town.

But there was nothing I could do about it except make sure she’d stay safe once I was gone.

Starting the next morning, I dedicated every waking hour to Kelly’s security. I contacted Jackson Cole, my previous boss, and asked him for advice on hiring skilled, trustworthy guys, and he gave me the number of some people he knew in the area. I conducted interviews. I supervised the testing of every camera at her house, the motion sensors, and the alarms. I changed the code on her gate. I met with the guard at the gatehouse of her subdivision and asked a hundred questions about what safeguards were in place. I performed background checks on her driver, her chef, her housekeeper, her landscaper, her agent, her stylist—even the pool guy.

My favorite candidate for Kelly’s full-time security was a guy named Marius Boley, and not just because of his intimidating size. He was a former Navy guy (yes, I’m biased) in his early thirties, whose name I’d gotten from Jackson. Newly transplanted from L.A., he’d provided security for a well-known actress for the last three years, and she’d given him glowing reviews. He had a wife and one daughter, and they’d moved back to this area to be closer to his wife’s family. He’d take care of finding additional bodyguards for her tour when the time came, and he understood he was not to leave it to the record label or anyone else.

He had a firm handshake, good eye contact, answered all my questions correctly, and had experience dealing with paparazzi.

Speaking of which, I’d also heard back from Zach Barrett. No surprise his contacts had discovered the car had been rented to a guy named Lawrence Hooper, who had a Tennessee driver’s license with a Nashville address. “Need more?” he asked. “He must have flown in. I could get his flight information.”

I thought about it for a second, then decided against it. “Don’t waste your time. I know who Hooper is, and if I had to find him, I could.”

“Okay. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you. And good luck with the bar opening.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Every day, I maintained contact with Veronica and Austin, who were working hard to make sure Buckley’s Pub could still open on time. Veronica promoted on social media, Austin and my dad spread the word around town, and I reached out to all my old high school buddies, letting them know there would be a new place to get together and watch the game. The fucking barstools still hadn’t arrived, but if we had to, we could get along without them. We had everything else in place.

Kelly was busy with rehearsals and fittings and appointments every day, but when she’d arrive home in the late afternoon, we always took a run together, worked out in her home gym, practiced the self-defense moves, and often took a swim late at night. At first, we were careful not to touch each other romantically when others were around, but by the end of the weekend, we’d gotten fairly reckless, especially in the pool.

There in the dark, beneath the surface of the water, her arms and legs would twine around me, and my hands would seek out all my favorite places on her body. Our lips would meet, wet and warm and hungry, and we’d get so worked up, we’d race from the pool to the bedroom without even drying off, dripping through the kitchen, up the stairs, down the hall, and across the carpet.

We were usually good at being quiet, but sometimes I’d have to put a hand over Kelly’s mouth while I fucked her because she’d get carried away and start to cry out.

Afterward, we’d lay in her bed, damp and breathless, submerged in whatever this was between us.

But we’d stopped talking late at night. Sometimes I even faked falling asleep quickly to avoid a difficult conversation.

We were getting too close to goodbye.

One week after I arrived in Nashville, I woke up and forced myself to face reality—Buckley’s Pub was opening in three days, and I needed to get back. Marius was coming over later to meet Kelly, and if she liked him, he was hired. He would take over from here.

I looked over at her, and my blood warmed at the sight of her sleeping, naked and bed mussed. Immediately I rolled over and curled my body around hers, inhaling her sweet, summery scent. How many more times would I get to do this? What if I walked out of here tomorrow and never saw her again? What if I never met anyone who made me feel this way, like I wanted to keep her close to me all the time? What if I never met anyone who trusted me the way she did? Or whose trust mattered as much as hers did? What if I never found someone who challenged me like she did? Made me laugh like she did? Made me want to drop to my knees just so she didn’t feel so alone?

How was I supposed to go from seeing her and talking to her and hearing her sing or laugh or whisper every single day and night to nothing at all? It would be like having an addiction and quitting cold turkey. I wasn’t sure I could do it.

Suddenly I felt angry. Why the fuck had I let myself fall for her this way? Hadn’t I known better? Hadn’t I always been so careful to keep relationships casual? I’d been so fucking sure of myself, so cocky and carefree. Even when I’d imagined how I’d feel about my future wife, it was nothing like the way Kelly Jo Sullivan had knocked me off my feet. I didn’t know which way was up anymore. I tried to picture my life without her in it, and I didn’t like it at all.

But I didn’t want to love this woman, with her world tours and sold-out shows and rabid fans and social media bullshit and dickhead paparazzi chasing her around. I wanted a laidback, small-town life. I wanted privacy and freedom. I wanted someone who’d belong to me, not the music industry. I didn’t want to share.

And yet . . . here I was. Holding onto her like I was scared the world might end.

A celebrity. A fucking celebrity.

Served me right.

Around noon, I took Kelly’s car—a tiny little BMW convertible I barely fit in, the thing was like a toy—and went out to grab some lunch. Her driver had picked her up earlier for a meeting with someone about a possible film project, and then she was heading to a dress fitting.

I parked in a public lot downtown and walked around until I found a sandwich shop on a quiet side street off Broadway. I ordered a combo, debated taking it to go, but ended up grabbing a table by the window facing the street. When I was done with my sandwich and chips, I gave Austin a call.

“You back?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I said, fighting off guilt. “Soon. I booked a flight for Thursday morning.”

“Cutting it close.”

“I know, sorry. How are things there?”

“All good. Barstools finally arrived today.”

“Fucking finally.” Relief eased some of the tension in my neck and shoulders.

“They look great.”

“Good. Thank you for everything. I owe you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it. That’s what family is for. Veronica is there now if you want to call her.”

“I will. Speaking of Veronica.” I paused. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Outside the window, a couple walked by, hand in hand. “If she’d gone back to New York, would you have tried to make it work?”

“Yes. But I’d have done everything in my power to convince her not to go.” He paused. “Is this about Kelly?”

“Yeah. I’m just—” I groped for words that would encapsulate how I felt about her. “Struggling with leaving her behind.”

“In Nashville? Or in life?”

“Both,” I admitted. “But I can’t see how it will work. Her career means everything to her. My bar is important to me. Our lives are so far apart.” I frowned. “This is stupid. It won’t work.”

“You haven’t even tried yet.”

“Because what’s the point? Would you want to date someone who lived twelve hours from you?”

“If that’s what it took.”

“It would drive me crazy, Austin, being so far away from her, not knowing what assholes are hanging around her, trying to get a piece of her. I’d worry about her all the time.”

“When you’re in love, fear comes with the territory.”

“I’m not in love with her,” I said quickly, but my heart knew it was a lie.

“You will be.”

Exhaling, I watched a woman with red hair walk past the window, and just the shade of her ponytail made my heart skip a beat. “I don’t like this feeling. I don’t like being afraid. I’ve worked so fucking hard not to be scared of anything. I’ve faced down every possible fear you can imagine—even death.”

“No, you haven’t.”

I scowled. “Yes, I have, asshole. Remember that business about being shot twice in the leg?”

“I’m not saying you haven’t looked death in the eye, brother. And I’ll always be in awe of you for that. I’m saying you haven’t faced down every possible fear in life. And I get it.” His voice grew a little quieter. “I was the same way you are for a long time. I wanted complete control over everything, including my feelings. And realizing that I didn’t have it was scary as fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“You want kids? Let me tell you, becoming a father is like jumping out of a plane without a parachute. You will worry about your children from their very first breath in a way you cannot comprehend before it happens.”

“I believe it.”

“But it’s worth it,” he said, his voice sure. “And I think if you meet someone you have feelings for—especially to the point where it scares you—it’s worth at least trying to make it work. What have you got to lose?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.

“I’ll tell you what you stand to lose,” he said, in true bossy big brother style. “The chance to make her happy. And if you walk away, someone else is going to grab that chance. How does that make you feel?”

“Like pushing that someone out of a plane without a parachute. After I beat the shit out of him for touching her.”

Austin laughed. “Exactly.”

“I’ve just never met anyone like her,” I said. “When I’m with her, I just—I can’t seem to—I want to just—” Again I fumbled blindly for the right words to convey how I felt. “And when I’m not with her, it’s even worse.”

“Believe me, I get it. You know what to do, Xander.”

“Yeah.” I watched a guy with a camera bag over his shoulder go by the window. He looked familiar, and a fraction of a second later, I placed him—Lawrence Hooper, the photographer who’d trailed Kelly up to Michigan. “I gotta go.” Without saying goodbye, I ended the call, shoved my phone in my pocket, dumped my trash in the bin, and raced outside.

I caught up with him easily and fell in step beside him. “Lawrence Hooper,” I said gruffly. “I’d like a word with you.”

He turned in surprise, and when he saw my face, he panicked. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

When he turned to keep walking, I grabbed his arm. “I think you do. I want to know how you knew exactly where Kelly was staying.”

“I told you. Social media post,” he said.

“What post? Show me.” I still didn’t believe this guy’s story. He just didn’t seem sharp enough to figure out the exact location of the house from Kelly’s single post showing the address.

“I don’t remember which one it was.” He wrenched his arm from my grip and kept walking.

I followed him. “Did someone tell you where she was staying?”

“Go away.”

“Was it her assistant?”

“No.”

“Her agent?”

“No.”

“I still haven’t forgotten how you trespassed on private property, you know. How you took photos not just of Kelly but of me.”

“You guys let me go already.”

“Kelly let you go. But she’s not here.”

“I can’t tell you anything, okay? I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

“With who?” I grabbed his arm again, although we’d reached the corner, and the intersection at Broadway was busy. “Goddamn it, with who?”

“Look, I like Kelly, okay? She’s always been good to me. She should be careful who she trusts.” Yanking his arm free, he melted into the crowd, disappearing in a sea of denim and cowboy hats.

I stood there for a moment, then pulled out my phone and shot a message to Zach Barrett.

Hey, I changed my mind. Could you get that flight information to me?

He replied quickly.

On it.

I wasn’t sure what I’d learn from it. Maybe nothing. Maybe the trouble Hooper had been referring to was his sick kid or his habit of trespassing or maybe his wife had thrown him out—trouble could mean anything. But the warning at the end that Kelly should be careful who she trusts? That had me on edge.

I didn’t want to leave her.