Our Kind of Love by Kait Nolan

Chapter 12

Strategically placed spotlights illuminated the stone walls and beams of the old mill that now housed the Artisan Guild. Though “old” no longer seemed to apply as a descriptor. The last time Kyle had been out here had been on a hike when they were in high school. There’d been vines and overgrowth and an ineffable abandoned air that had given rise to ghost stories to explain why the place had been abandoned nearly a century before. That had certainly been cooler than the truth—that the rerouting of the river that powered the mill had put it out of business, toppling the empire of Joan’s lumber baron ancestor.

The place certainly wasn’t abandoned now. Dozens of cars filled the parking lot, and people streamed toward the front doors, many with assorted instruments in hand.

Kyle gawked for a moment until a car behind him gave a little honk to get moving again.

“Wow. I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it.”

Abbey grinned. “Impressive, isn’t it? Maggie and Porter do good work. She had the idea to turn the property into the Artisan Guild headquarters. Porter made it a reality.”

The complex was huge, with an addition jutting off to one side that looked every bit a part of the original nineteenth-century structure.

“What do they even do out here, other than Jam Night?”

“There’s a maker’s space, with shared tools and equipment, so different kinds of artisans can ply their crafts, and also plenty of classrooms so they can teach. Maggie wanted to create something that would keep those skills from dying out and be a draw for tourism to the area. Which it has been. And, of course, there’s retail space so those same artisans can sell their wares.”

“That Maggie Reynolds was always a smart cookie,” Granddaddy declared.

“Yes, she is.” Kyle pulled up to the wide double doors and threw the Land Cruiser into park.

Before he could do more than tug open the rear passenger door, Granddaddy was sliding out, eager to get inside. Thank God he was down to a single crutch.

Abbey hurried around, sliding an arm coquettishly through his in a gesture as much of affection as stability. “Hold up, now. You’re not gonna go running in there without your date, are you?”

Granddaddy beamed. “Prettiest girl at the party.”

Taking in her fall of straight blonde hair and the flush of pleasure in her cheeks, Kyle had to agree. “I’ll go park and come find you.”

“Look for your sisters. They’ll have camped out near the action.”

As Kyle drove on down the hill, searching for a space in the wider lot below, his phone began to ring. One glance at the readout on his dashboard had him grimacing and ignoring the call. He wasn’t talking to anybody from the label tonight. But he did check the voicemail as he strode back toward the entrance to the mill.

“Kyle, this is Rayna Dunham again. I know you’re enjoying some well-earned downtime, but we really want to get you to the negotiating table. We heard about your split with Davis. Don’t let that deter you. We still absolutely want to talk. We also wanted to let you know that there’s an opportunity for you to sing at the Ryman in two weeks. Thomas Rhett had to cancel, and they want you. I know I don’t have to tell you what a big feather that would be in your cap. Call me back!”

The Ryman Auditorium. The Mother Church of Country Music. Original home of the Grand Old Opry. The stage where country greats from Johnny Cash to Patsy Cline had sung. It was a hell of an opportunity.

But he didn’t call back. That was the cheese they’d use to lure him in before springing the trap. He wasn’t ready for that conversation. Tonight was for music and friends and family. He wanted to be present in more than just body, not with his head all tied up, worrying about the future.

Joining the throngs, he filed inside. Just beyond a vestibule lined with black and white photos of the original mill, the space opened into a massive, high-ceilinged room. The perimeter was lined with what looked like workstations, housing all manner of tools and equipment. The maker’s space that Abbey had mentioned. At the far end, chairs were clustered in a horseshoe, with musicians settling in, unpacking their instruments. The audience was a seething, cheerful mass of lawn chairs, blankets, and coolers, broken up here and there by the lines of people snaking out from the food and beverage vendors set up along one wall. He spotted signs for high school clubs and church groups raising money for one cause or another, selling popcorn or hotdogs or whatever could be brought in and easily kept warm or cold for the masses. It was a helluva setup.

His family had carved out a big section right up by the musicians. Granddaddy had a chair already and was bouncing Kennedy and Xander’s daughter, Caroline, on his good knee, looking happy as a clam. The sight gave Kyle pause. Did Granddaddy want great-grandchildren? He’d been smitten with Abbey basically always, so it stood to reason he’d be delighted if she had children. Did she want kids? He didn’t know. She’d always said she did when they were younger, but he knew plenty of folks who’d changed their minds as adults. It was another of those million and one details they hadn’t yet had time to discuss about the future they were still finding the shape of. As she ran a gentle finger over the white-blonde down on Faith’s head where it peeked out of the baby sling Maggie wore, Kyle found himself hoping she hadn’t changed her mind.

“—got a call from Wyatt Sullivan the other day,” Athena said. “You remember him from the reunion last fall? He got adopted when he was twelve.”

Maggie patted a soft hand against Faith’s back. “Sure. He mostly crossed over with me and Pru. That was before you came to us.”

“I thought it was something like that. Anyway, he was asking for suggestions on his YouTube channel. Apparently he’s got an eye to pitch for an actual show.”

Kennedy perked with interest. “Yeah? What kind of concept?”

“Home improvement. Flips and stuff. His channel’s called DIWyatt.”

“Clever,” Abbey murmured. “Is he any good?”

“As a contractor, definitely. I didn’t have time to watch much, but it looks like he does really good work. And he’s definitely got the looks for a TV home improvement guy.”

Kyle joined them, sliding an arm around Abbey’s waist and loving that she leaned into him. “And exactly what does a TV home improvement guy look like?”

Abbey’s lips quirked in amusement. “She means he’s hot. Which, yeah. He is. I met him at the reunion.”

“Uh huh. Shall we go get everybody drinks?”

She laughed and patted his chest. “Smooth. But sure. What’s everybody want?”

With multiple orders for cider, he and Abbey got in line for the booth from Forbidden Fruit Cidery. Kyle wondered if the owners would be manning it. He hoped they’d keep their mouths shut if they were. Ryder and his husband Lewis both brightened at the sight of him, circling around their little table to pull him into a back-slapping hug.

“Damn, it’s good to see you home,” Ryder declared.

“It’s good to be home.” Kyle was surprised to realize he meant it beyond the joy of being with Abbey. He’d enjoyed being back in Eden’s Ridge. “And it’s great to see you two looking so happy.”

Lewis grinned. “If you love your work, you’ll never work a day in your life. Am I right?” He clearly expected Kyle’s agreement.

“So they say.”

Ryder swung an arm around Lewis’s shoulders. “Bonus points if you get to do that work with the love of your life.”

Abbey gave a dreamy sigh. “You two are freaking adorable.”

The two men were great together, and Kyle was delighted they’d managed to bring their dream of opening a cidery to full fruition, as it were.

“Talk about adorable. What about the two of you, Miss I-Kept-The-Biggest-Secret-The-Ridge-Has-Seen-Since-Us? Let’s see the ring,” Lewis demanded.

Abbey dutifully held out her hand. For a moment, Kyle wondered whether he should buy another. One more befitting what he could afford with his current success. But Lewis just pressed a hand to his heart. “It’s so perfectly you.”

She cut a glance in Kyle’s direction, her lips curving into a warm smile. “Yes, it is. He did good.”

“He’s a good one,” Ryder agreed.

Uncomfortable with the praise, Kyle decided they needed to get a move on. “Can we get a round of ciders for the group?”

“Sure thing. How many?”

He gave the order, and Ryder began to put them into a box to carry. Kyle pulled out his wallet to pay.

“Oh, hell no. Your money is no good here. By rights, these are part yours,” Lewis insisted.

Kyle began making a slashing motion across his throat, but neither of them seemed to see.

“Why’s that?” Abbey asked.

“Because he’s our partner in the cidery,” Ryder explained. “His investment is how we were able to buy the stake in the orchard to get started.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she turned to stare at him.

The guys seemed to clue in that this was news to her.

“Um… was that still a secret?” Lewis asked.

Kyle forced a smile. “It’s fine. But we’ll take those ciders now. Got thirsty family.” He hefted the box and turned without looking at Abbey.

She caught up to him in three strides. “You helped them buy part of the orchard so they could start Forbidden Fruit?”

“It was an investment opportunity.”

Her hand on his arm finally made him stop. “Kyle. Look at me.”

Bracing himself, he turned to meet her gaze. He didn’t know what he wanted to see. Not the gratitude making those big doe eyes glimmer.

“That deal saved my family’s business.”

He jerked a shoulder. “It was a good investment all around.”

“Don’t downplay this. You saved our business. Our home. And I wasn’t even speaking to you at the time. I don’t even know how…” She swallowed. “And you kept it quiet all this time?”

He wished it were still a secret. But it wasn’t, and he had to deal with that. “I know you and your family never blamed me for my parents’ actions and that you don’t think it’s my job to make up for it, but I needed to do something to help, to pay restitution. Because they never will.” So, he’d sunk almost all his profits from that first album that went gold into helping Ryder and Lewis start Forbidden Fruit and keeping the orchard afloat the only way he knew how.

Her throat worked, and she looked perilously close to tears. “Thank you.”

That tremulous tone made him itch to run. He didn’t deserve thanks for this. It was the bare minimum of what her family deserved. There shouldn’t be prizes for that.

Needing some space from her gratitude, he hurried back to his family, dropping off the drinks and grabbing his guitar to go join the other musicians.

He’d lose himself in the music until he felt in control again. Until he felt worthy again.

* * *

Abbey watchedKyle carry his guitar over to the cluster of musicians. He’d come here to play tonight, but she knew, in this moment, he was running away from her. From her gratitude.

Her own head was reeling. If not for his investment in the cidery, they’d likely have lost their orchards entirely, and maybe the house as well. Her parents had never told her the bald numbers, but they’d been struggling for years because of what Kyle’s parents had done, everything they’d taken. It would have happened sooner, probably, if Kyle himself hadn’t found out and blown the whistle on the embezzlement. At thirteen, he’d chosen her family over his own, and his testimony had been the lynchpin in the case that sent his parents to prison. Despite that, he’d always had the notion that he was responsible for paying for their mistakes.

It seemed he’d finally found a way to do it, and Abbey didn’t know what to do with that information. Would it be enough to make him feel worthy? To absolve him of the guilt he’d carried for so long?

“Sit right here with me, Butter Bean.”

Grateful for the distraction, Abbey took the chair beside Granddaddy, sliding her arm through his and tipping her head to his shoulder as the assembled musicians launched into a rendition of “Tennessee Whiskey”.

He laid his free hand over hers. “So is it real now?”

“Is what real?”

One gnarled finger traced over her ring. “The engagement.”

Startled, she straightened to stare at her grandfather. They hadn’t told him about it at all. He’d been deliberately excluded from the family meeting for fear he wouldn’t be able to keep the secret. “How did you know… about any of it?”

“Psh. It was my idea. You didn’t really think he came up with that on his own, did you? He’d never have taken that leap without being pushed.”

Abbey stared at her grandfather. “You convinced him to convince me that a fake engagement was the only way to deal with the press?”

“Desperate times called for desperate measures.” Granddaddy squeezed her hand. “I want you to have the kind of happy I was with my Ruthie. I saw the seeds of that with you and Kyle when you were children, but then everything got messed up. If somebody didn’t intervene, you two were going to blow it.”

Moved and more than a little flummoxed, Abbey leaned in to press a kiss to his wrinkled cheek. “Thank you for being a sneaky, sneaky man.”

Granddaddy rumbled a laugh, and they settled in to enjoy the music. It was a round-robin style performance, with musicians hopping in and out, depending on whether they knew the song or not. They trotted out old standards like “Rocky Top”, “Ring of Fire”, and Diamond Rio’s “Meet in The Middle”. By the time Flynn coaxed out the opening notes to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” Abbey could see Kyle unwinding enough to really sink into the performance and enjoy himself.

He didn’t automatically hog the spotlight, instead gravitating to harmonies and supporting rhythms that showed off the skill of the other musicians present. But as he jammed with Flynn, sang with Kennedy, and hammed it up with Ari, Abbey saw the joy shining in his face. From what he’d told her, he hadn’t had a great deal of that since he started pursuing professional music. She wanted him to get out of his career what Lewis and Ryder had managed with Forbidden Fruit. She wanted him to really, truly love what he did and recognize that he had value beyond the money he made, beyond whatever restitution he felt like he still needed to pay.

“Is that Kyle Keenan?”

Abbey looked over at the man who’d taken the next seat, a plate of empanadas in his lap. Dimly, she recognized him as one of the guests who’d recently arrived at the inn. “Yes, it is.”

“This isn’t what I expected of him. He’s got a lot more versatility beyond what he’s been allowed to do in Nashville.”

“He’s always been an extremely talented musician.”

“Known him a long time?”

“All my life.”

The guy turned to look at her. “You’re the fiancée. Abbey, right? I’m Harry Cafferty.”

She tensed, hesitating.

Harry lifted his hand and made a little X over his heart. “Not a reporter. Promise.”

“That’s what a lot of the reporters have said.”

“Fair point. I’m just here to listen to the music.”

Abbey hoped that was true.

They both joined in the applause as the latest song ended.

Kyle met her gaze across the room, grinning as he began to pick out the opening bars to one of the duets they used to sing together. He lifted his brows in invitation. Abbey frowned, pointing to herself. Kyle nodded. He wanted her to come sing with him? Was he out of his mind? The idea of it had her heart pounding like a timpani drum. He knew she couldn’t sing in front of people. She’d never really sung in front of anyone but him.

She shook her head, mouthing an emphatic, “No.”

Blowing her a kiss, he let it go. As someone else joined in, Abbey felt a little twinge, wishing she were brave enough to put herself out there. But she wasn’t a performer. Never had been. Singing with Kyle had always been a private, intimate thing. She couldn’t bring herself to overcome the paralyzing stage fright.

Before someone else could start the next song, Kyle spoke up. “I’ve been working on some new material lately. Would y’all be willing to indulge me and let me try it out?”

The audience whooped and hollered in approval.

“This is ‘Bubble Gum Ring.’”

He began to strum a more complex version of one of the melodies she’d heard him fiddling with over the past week. It was a different sound than the music he’d recorded, and as he fixed his gaze on hers and began to sing, his rich baritone filling the space, gooseflesh broke out along Abbey’s arms.

It was them. Their story. All the good parts. The childhood marriage pact with a bubble gum ring. The teenagers too afraid to act on their feelings. The adults who got a second chance. Each refrain came back to that plastic ring that had meant so much to them both.

“This is good,” Harry muttered. “Very, very good.”

But Abbey barely heard him. She couldn’t focus on anything but Kyle and this very public gift he was giving her. It was a claiming, an acknowledgment, that had nothing to do with maintaining a fiction and everything to do with celebrating what had brought them together in the first place.

When he’d finished, the room erupted in applause. She felt the thunder of it as she rose from her chair and crossed to him. A part of her was aware that multiple people were recording from their phones. The performance and what came after would undoubtedly end up on YouTube and social media before the end of the night. But she didn’t care. She really had to kiss him right now.

He was grinning as she captured his mouth to hoots and cheers. The growl in the back of his throat was a heady drug that made her wish for a helluva lot more privacy. But she’d settle for this public claiming of her own.

Kyle snagged her wrist as she pulled back. “Don’t you run away after a kiss like that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She couldn’t even mind that she was breathless. He was worth it.

“You about made me drop my guitar.”

Abbey grinned. “Now that would be a real shame. You play it so pretty.”

“Always for you.” He brought her hand to his lips and lavished a kiss on her knuckles.

Laughing, blushing, she broke eye contact, sweeping her gaze around the room to remind herself of their audience. All eyes were on them, which just made her blush harder. But the weight of one particular woman felt heavier. Drawn by the sensation, she glanced over in time to see her turning away. Abbey didn’t recognize her, yet something in the way she moved was familiar. Maybe a guest or someone else’s client at the spa?

Before she could pursue the thought, Ari was interrupting, linking her arm through Abbey’s. “Excuse me, but if you two are finished making googly eyes at each other, some of us are here to play.”

Abbey looked askance in her direction. “You live for the googly eyes.”

“I’m thinking she’s trying to distract us from the ones she’s making at the dude manning one of the fundraiser tables,” Kyle murmured.

Following his line of sight, Abbey saw the infamous Cullen Walker. “Ah ha.”

“Psh. Whatever.” Ari punctuated the statement with a dramatic teenage eye roll, but she couldn’t stop the blush from staining her cheeks.

Willing to rescue the girl, Abbey patted her arm and held out a hand for Kyle. “How about you take a break and come get some food? I’d like to spend some actual time with my date.”

“Your wish is my command.”

With a simpering smile, she winked. “I’ll try not to let that go to my head.”