Our Kind of Love by Kait Nolan
Chapter 5
The feed and farm supply hadn’t changed much since Kyle left Eden’s Ridge. Scents of earth and leather and gardening chemicals slapped him in the face as he stepped inside the tin-roofed building behind Granddaddy, bringing to mind countless trips here from childhood and, later, his teen years. The black man behind the counter had a little more gray in his close-cropped hair, but his booming voice was still the same as he called out, “What the heck happened to you, Roy?”
Granddaddy crutched his way over to a chair near the register, where a cluster of other old-timers were lingering over little Styrofoam cups of black coffee. “It was the damnedest thing.”
Stan came out from behind the register and brought him a cup of coffee himself. “Looks nasty. Is it broken?”
“By the grace of God, no.”
Kyle smiled to himself as Granddaddy launched into the story. He understood that this was as much a social opportunity as a shopping trip. It was a rare stop here that was less than half an hour.
Beside him, Griff eyed the racks of clothes off to one side of the store. “Maybe we should pick up a few things. Unless you’re planning to head back to Nashville today?”
“I don’t know how long we’ll be here.”
“That’s what I thought.” He wandered off to pick out some jeans.
Kyle headed for a rack of Henleys. Leaving with no packed bag wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, but he hadn’t wanted to slow down for anything yesterday. And good thing, too. Who knew what would have happened with Frick if he hadn’t interrupted?
And that just made Kyle think about the kiss.
As angry as Abbey was—as distrustful as she was—her first response had been to kiss him back. An electric, desperate kiss that wiped away every hurt, every mile, every year. For just a little while. He’d spent years of their friendship ignoring the attraction because he didn’t feel worthy of her. Hell, it was a big part of why he’d left. To make something of himself. Hadn’t he been told throughout his childhood that he was worthless? None of that had ever mattered to Abbey, but it had mattered to him that he bring something more to their marriage than himself. And he had intended to marry her. Had packed his bags, ready to leave and meet her. And then—
“Kyle?”
Blinking back to the present, he turned toward the woman, a shirt in each hand. He didn’t recognize the blonde, but he seldom recognized people who called his name. Bracing himself for fangirling, he schooled his features into the Nice Guy smile.
If it affected her at all, she didn’t show it. She offered a wide, self-deprecatory smile that said she knew he had no idea who she was. “Cayla Black. We had geometry together back in high school.”
He had dim memories of a studious girl with wavy blonde hair and dark-framed glasses, who sat a couple rows ahead of him and Abbey, and he understood that this wasn’t a typical fan interaction. This was small-town social obligation. The kind of thing that he’d have dealt with before if he’d bothered to come home in the last ten years. Flipping his mental script, he relaxed a bit. “Of course. Good to see you. How’ve you been?”
Cayla waved a hand. “Oh, you know.”
He didn’t.
“I left home for several years. Came back with my daughter and started an event planning business.”
He waited for the ask. An autograph. An introduction to someone. A date. But she only stood there smiling, open and friendly, waiting for him to complete the other half of this social ritual. The idea left him more than a little off-kilter and scrambling for a normal-person response. “That’s great. How old is she?”
“Five going on thirty. Her latest campaign is for a puppy. Like we have time for that level of chaos. But, I admit, she’s wearing me down.” She laughed at herself. It was a comfortable sound, not an awkward, cowed-by-his-celebrity giggle to fill the silence. “How have you been?”
The idea that she wasn’t up on the tabloids was odd and very appealing. You aren’t in Nashville anymore, buddy boy. “Oh, you know. Making it. I’m in town to visit family for a bit.”
Cayla beamed. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m sure the girls have missed you.”
That she defaulted to his sisters rather than blood kin made him want to hug her in gratitude.
His phone rang. Just in case it was Abbey, he slipped it out to check the screen and found Deanna James instead. His publicist wasn’t someone he could put off at this point.
“I’m sorry. I have to take this. It was good to see you, Cayla.” Good to have a conversation that made him feel like a normal guy again.
As she walked away to continue her own shopping, he answered, “Hey, D.”
“What the actual hell, Kyle? When were you going to tell me you were engaged? This is stuff I’m supposed to be managing.”
And so it begins.
His manager was the one who’d have called to inform her. “Sorry about that. I fired Davis yesterday, so I’m still picking up the slack.” He’d have to take care of his own shit again until he found someone new. That was going to be a production.
In the long, humming silence, he grabbed a couple pairs of jeans in his size off a display.
“Good riddance. He’s an ass. But we still have a situation. That picture of you and your lady is all over the tabloids. Speculation abounds, and people are starting to dig.”
Digging was the last thing he wanted. For himself or for Abbey.
“It’s just going to blow up and get bigger. There’s no putting this genie back in the bottle. You and Abbey—is that actually her name?”
“Yes.”
“Y’all are going to need to do some public appearances and—”
Kyle cut her off. “Abbey’s a private person. She doesn’t want this.”
“You’re going to need to get ahead of this before the media takes the crumbs dribbled out by Davis and your label over the last several months and spins some kind of shit about a love triangle and you throwing Mercy Lee over for this woman.”
A headache throbbed behind his left eye. He realized that this was his last moment to tell the truth. To admit his faux pas in the interview and correct the course of this ship. It was what a good man would do. But, hell, Abbey already believed the worst of him, and he didn’t want to give up this one last chance to maybe repair what he’d broken between them.
“Let me talk to Abbey and see what she’s willing to do. I’ll get back to you.”
“You know how this works, Kyle. We have to control the narrative.”
“Understood. I’ll let you know.”
Before he could contemplate the wisdom of this particular course of action, his phone rang again. This time it was Caleb. Kyle wasn’t keen on whatever his brother had to say about the situation, but he took the call, anyway.
“Hey, bro.”
“You know, when you told me you had to cancel your visit to take care of some business, I did not imagine that business would involve producing an engagement out of thin air. You have something you wanna tell me?”
When in doubt, play dumb.“Not really.”
“Come on, man. Engaged? To Abbey? I talked to her last fall, and she wasn’t anywhere close to forgiving you. So unless you somehow found the time to fly back across country during the tour to have that conversation I’ve been saying y’all should have for years, I smell a rat.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it for me.”
“I’m in Eden’s Ridge.”
“I gathered that much from the picture of the lip lock with Abbey that’s flying around everywhere. That doesn’t explain why everybody suddenly thinks you’re headed for wedded bliss.”
Kyle cast a glance around, making sure no one was in earshot. He lowered his voice. “I mentioned things in my last interview that got misinterpreted. I’m here trying to control the fallout.”
“Uh huh. And is Abbey on board with this?”
He thought of her reluctant acceptance of his presence. “I mean, she’s talking to me again, so that’s something.”
“Seriously? I don’t even know a tenth of the details, and I can tell this is a bad idea.”
“Yeah, well, it’s where I am right now. I’m staying at the farm helping out while her parents are out of town.”
“Do I wanna know how you wrangled that?”
“Probably not.”
“Have you actually talked to her? About before?” Caleb didn’t know what had happened between them, but he’d been around to deal with the aftermath.
“No. But I will. Listen, I need to get going. I’ll touch base, soon. Give Emerson my love.”
“I will. And Kyle… don’t fuck this up.”
“I don’t plan to.”
Griff materialized as he hung up. “Everything okay?”
“Okay might be stretching it. We’ll figure it out.”
They had to. The alternative wasn’t something he was willing to contemplate.
* * *
With one last,cautious glance into the rearview mirror, Abbey turned onto the long, winding drive to home, feeling none of the usual pleasure at the moonlit rows of apple trees rolling past her windows. Excessive caffeine and a simmering temper were the only things keeping profound exhaustion at bay. Her quiet, simple life was over, and it was all Kyle’s fault.
Pulling up to the house, she started to go inside in search of her quarry, but the echo of male laughter on the wind had her turning toward the barn. The ancient pickup truck was parked beneath the floodlight outside, hood up. She’d driven right by them. The full head of steam she had yet to vent was apparently making her blind.
Abbey stalked over, relieved to see that at least Granddaddy sat in a lawn chair, his foot propped on a five-gallon bucket as he supervised his assistant. Kyle was bent over, with his head under the hood. Her steps slowed a little as she took in the stretch of denim over his backside. It was a very fine backside, even with a filthy shop rag dangling from one pocket. Annoyed with herself for noticing, she slowed even further.
The two of them were clearly having a grand old time, debating… what was that? Some past Super Bowl game? Was Granddaddy having one of his slides into the past or was this one of those weird male discussions of past sporting events, as if they were matters of actual import?
“I like their chances at the playoffs.” Kyle emerged from the engine, some tool in his hand and a smear of grease beneath one eye. “Okay, let’s try it now.”
He circled around and slid into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. It rumbled to life and began to purr, no longer making the knocking noise Granddaddy had reported the other day.
“Hell yeah!” Kyle whooped. He shut off the truck and slid out to high five Granddaddy.
“Well done, son!”
They beamed at each other, and the whole interaction felt like a sucker punch—because this was the old Kyle. Her best friend. Not the asshat who’d stabbed her through the heart. Abbey couldn’t merge the two sides of him in her mind.
“Well, I guess y’all have had a productive day.”
Kyle turned, his triumphant expression dialing even brighter at the sight of her. “Hey, Abs.”
That instant joy at her presence was another sucker punch that left her irritable and reeling.
His smile faded. “Granddaddy, you stay put, I’m gonna run up to the house to check on supper before I put all these tools away.”
He’d made food? Again. She’d assumed this morning was an aberration. Abbey tried to wrap her head around that as she followed Kyle into the house. The kitchen was full of rich, spicy scents from something in the slow cooker. She couldn’t resist lifting the lid for a peek as he washed his hands. Red beans and rice. One of her favorites.
“You made dinner?”
“It didn’t seem right you should have to cook after a long day at work. Longer even than you expected, I take it. I thought you’d be home an hour ago.” There was concern rather than censure in his tone.
On a sigh, she leaned back against the counter. “My day has been a shit show. Reporters started calling the spa. Several more showed up and tried to camp out. Griff had to play bouncer inside, and Xander had to post a deputy on the premises all afternoon. This insanity is interfering with the normal conduct of our business because we’re having to parse out whether someone is a legitimate client or the press. Oh, and I had to take the long way home, just in case one of these lunatics tried to follow me.”
His expression grew grimmer with every word. “I’m so sorry, Abbey.”
“Oh! And let’s not forget that word of our alleged engagement has already reached Crystal down at the diner, which I found out when I went to pick up our lunch order. Meaning basically everybody knows, and I couldn’t even walk down the street to my car for people stopping me to offer congratulations and ask why it had been such a secret.”
“What did you say?” There was a tension in his shoulders as he waited for her answer. Wondering whether she’d made the whole situation worse? Tried to tell the truth?
“The theme of the day was, ‘No comment.’ There was no sense in trying to correct Crystal in the moment. The explanation would’ve taken longer, and I didn’t know who might be listening.”
He seemed to relax at that. At the idea that there were fewer versions of the story to try to combat?
“That’s probably best until we sort out how to handle this.”
She didn’t like it, but even she understood that the fewer people who knew, the better. But she couldn’t fathom having to put this much thought into everything, all the time. “How the hell do you deal with this? With the invasion of your privacy? With people’s entitlement, thinking they have any right to know about the intimate details of your life? After everything that happened around the trial, I never imagined you’d tolerate this at all.”
He turned away and gave the red beans and rice a stir. “I don’t love it, but it’s part and parcel of the business. Although they tend to be a little more respectful of me directly. My publicist has coached me on how to handle the media. Not that she ever had something like this in mind.”
“Well, you’re going to have to do something about this. The insanity has to stop. I can’t live like this, and it’s sure as hell not fair to your sisters and the business we’ve built.”
At the thump, thump, thump on the front porch, they both moved in that direction. Of course, Granddaddy wouldn’t do as asked and stay put.
Kyle kept his voice low. “I’ve got some ideas about that we can discuss after Granddaddy goes to bed. Let’s just get through dinner and after. I’ll go put the tools away.”
She could wait that long.