Chapter Twelve
“You know, Superman, if you wanted more muffins, all you had to do was say so.”
Hannah shot him a flirty grin over her shoulder as she added blueberries to the mixing bowl, and Deacon lifted a shoulder. “That’s what I did.”
“No, what you did was pout and give me puppy dog eyes,” she corrected with an amused shake of her head. “You do realize Sherry’s eating for two, right? It’s not her fault Bagel Bite loves my muffins. Clearly, she’s growing a future genius in there.”
Up until that last part, he’d been prepared to deliver a speech on the importance of sharing baked goods, even when one of your roommates was six months pregnant…but instead, he abandoned that topic for an entirely new one. “Bagel Bite?”
Hannah blinked innocently and pulled out her mama’s old muffin pan.
“You seriously nicknamed Tyler’s future son or daughter Bagel Bite?”
“Yep,” she answered with an unapologetic grin. “Sherry told me that up until the tour started, she could only hold down pizza. Apparently, the same thing happened the first time, only with burgers, so they nicknamed Lizzie, Whopper. I think Bagel Bite’s a lot cuter than Pizza Roll, don’t you?”
Deacon fought a smile. She said it so straightforward, like it was obvious they’d name the baby after something that was delivered in a box, that he wanted to laugh. God, she was adorable. “Here’s a wild idea. Maybe we don’t name it after food at all. That could work, too.”
A delighted trill of giggles met his response, and the sound seeped into his chest, warming his insides. Hannah sprayed the individual wells of the pan with canola oil, then stuck out her tongue and teased, “You’re no fun.”
It was temping to remind her of just how much fun he could be—and put that pretty pink tongue to better use, while he was at it—but Max was seated across from him. Holding what looked like a Bingo marker in his tiny hand, he planted dot after dot after dot on a single piece of computer paper. He claimed it was a picture of space, and when Deacon squinted and turned his head just right, it could totally pass.
Obviously, his kid was the genius around here.
Hannah began humming under her breath as she filled the muffin tray, and as Max happily dotted his paper, he nodded along to the beat. Watching the two of them so easily find a rhythm together, Deacon wondered again if they were doing the right thing.
Max didn’t know that things had changed. For the last week, he’d seen his dad and nanny acting like friends like they always had. It wasn’t that Deacon regretted what had happened in the hotel; if anything, he was thrilled as hell. But his number one priority would always be his son.
Max was already incredibly attached to “his Hannah.” While Deacon knew Hannah would never hurt his son, he also knew he had to tread lightly. Everything was so new between them. If Max started thinking of her as anything more than his nanny, and something happened later to change that, he would be crushed. Deacon couldn’t let that happen.
Their friends knew the truth. It’d been obvious when they didn’t return to the bus, and neither he nor Hannah had tried to hide it when they shuffled in the next morning. It’d felt too good having her lean into him, too right holding her hand. Sherry and Arabella had lit up like Christmas trees, and the guys had exchanged nods with Charlie suggesting Red Lobster for lunch. Luckily, the reference had flown right over the girls’ heads.
But, even with the band, Deacon felt himself holding back. Case in point: he still hadn’t asked Hannah to stay. They had two months until the international leg kicked off, so he had plenty of time to bring it up, and when he did, he wanted her to say yes for the right reasons. Because she genuinely wanted to stay, not because they were sleeping together and he’d trapped her into it.
The honest truth was, he was scared. After all, this was him they were dealing with. A world-class screwup. Deacon couldn’t help looking around, waiting for the other shoe to drop. If and when that happened, he wanted to be prepared for the fallout.
Hannah shut the oven with her hip, then spun around to face him. “Twenty-eight minutes and counting, Mr. Latrell.”
Deacon made a production out of setting the timer on his watch, and she grinned happily. She made it so easy.
Walking over, she ruffled Max’s hair and peeked to see how he was doing on his picture. “Dude, this is awesome! I can tell you put a lot of thought into where you wanted to put each dot. Way to go!”
Max beamed with pride and nodded his cute, oversized head, and Deacon stole another glance at the picture. Huh. Now that he knew what to look for, he guessed there was a bit of method to his son’s dotting madness. Yep, boy’s a genius.
“I’m so proud of you, monkey.” Hannah kissed Max’s chubby cheek, and his son’s smile grew even bigger. “Why don’t I put this masterpiece in your folder so it doesn’t get wrinkled, and you head on back to the bathroom to wash up, okay?”
“’Kay!” Quick as a flash, his son got on his knees, crawled out of the booth, and shot to his feet. Soap was not Max’s thing, but splashing in water? Yeah, that ranked right up there.
Hannah waited until the tiny tornado disappeared down the hall before she swung her gaze to him. “All right, let’s talk birthday.”
Resting her elbows on the top of the bench seat, she leaned over and gave Deacon an excellent view down her shirt. Green lace today. Nice.
“So, the trains we ordered are already wrapped and hidden in my bunk, but I’m still waiting on that cute rodeo set. Tracking shows it should arrive before we head out in the morning.” Her chest heaved with a breath, and Deacon forced his gaze to her face.
“I was thinking on the day of, I’d make Max his favorite meal,” she told him. “Chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese are the healthiest combo in the world, by the way. Then for dessert we’ll do chocolate cake with presents. Sound good?”
“Well, actually…”
Deacon shifted sideways on the bench and listened for Max. When he heard his tiny voice trailing from the back, in the middle of telling Tyler every single detail about that morning’s episode of Jake and the Never Land Pirates, he bit back a laugh. At least his son’s short attention span was working for him.
“I thought we’d go out for dinner,” he told her. “Last night, I was too keyed up to sleep after the show, so I hopped online and found a Texas-themed restaurant only a couple miles from Paul Brown Stadium. From the pictures on the website, they make a big deal out of birthdays, putting kids on giant saddles with cowboy hats and singing songs. Max will go nuts over it.”
Just imagining the expression on his son’s face had Deacon feeling smug, and he shrugged his shoulders as if to say, I know, I’m awesome. But, instead of praising his amazing Google skills, or even looking mildly impressed, Hannah made a face.
What the hell?
“Is there something wrong with my idea?”
Her eyes widened. “No! No, that sounds amazing. Really.”
Deacon craned an eyebrow. The fact that she had qualified that, paired with the uncertain look on her face, said otherwise.
Hannah hemmed and hawed, chewing on her thumbnail before she spit out, “It’s just…isn’t it a bit too much to handle? I mean, I checked the schedule. Blue doesn’t have a concert that night, but you do have a meet and greet. Arabella blocked out most of the afternoon and early evening for it. I’d already assumed we’d have to have a really late lunch, or really early dinner, just so everyone could make it.” She hesitated. “Wouldn’t a dinner out on top of everything else just add unnecessary stress?”
A small smile curved his mouth. It meant everything to know she had his back, but in this case, she didn’t need to worry. “For my son, I can handle a little stress, sweetheart. Besides, I thought about that already. If we don’t make the reservation until eight, that still leaves me plenty of time to do the event, get cleaned up, and have dinner.”
Hannah didn’t seem convinced. Unfolding himself from the booth, Deacon walked over to where she stood and stopped in front of her, linking his hands behind his neck.
“Cherry…I need to do this for him. He’s a good kid stuck living in a house on wheels with a different address every other day. I know he’s got you, and he’s got me, and he’s even got Lizzie, but that’s it. I owe him an awesome birthday, and I don’t care if it gives me a few dozen gray hairs, I’m gonna make sure that he gets it.”
“Deacon.”
The soft, understanding tone of her voice eased the guilt tightening his gut, and when she slipped her arms around his waist, he released a shuddered breath. He hugged her close, and she rested her head over his heart.
“I get what you’re saying,” she murmured. “And if you think you can swing doing the signing and the restaurant on the same day, then that’s what we’ll do. You know what you can handle better than I do, and Max will have an awesome birthday either way, because he’ll be surrounded by people who love him.” She lifted her head, and with the way she stared into his eyes, it was like she could see right to his soul.
“But you’ve got to stop with the incessant guilt. Deke, by living your dream, you’re teaching Max how to chase his. And you’re giving him an incredible opportunity. Every town is a new adventure. We have a blast together during the day, exploring new parks and museums, and while I know you hate missing it, don’t confuse that with the idea that he’s miserable. He’s not. He’s the happiest soon-to-be little three-year-old I know.”
Hannah squeezed him tighter, and Deacon soaked in her affection, needing it more than she realized. He kissed her hair, letting his lips linger in her floral-scented curls, and thought about what she’d said.
Tons of musicians made this life work. In the spring, back while they were still planning the tour, he and Tyler had spoken with Karen Fairchild and Jimi Westbrook from Little Big Town, and they’d assured them both that their kids loved the road. That it was normal for them, and that they were thriving.
Deacon seemed to be the only one struggling with it.
“Thank you.” Releasing a sigh, he slid his hands up her arms and pushed her hair back over her shoulders. He cradled her neck and said, “Max is happy, and a big reason for that is because he has you.”
Hannah beamed at the compliment and lifted onto her toes. Deacon snuck a quick glance down the hall, and after confirming that Max was indeed still educating Tyler about the Disney channel, he dropped his head and brushed his mouth across hers.
So damn soft. How could she be that soft? Her skin, her hair, her sweet tiny sighs. Hannah’s softness smoothed out his rough edges, and over the last week, he’d grown addicted to the feel of her in his arms.
Hannah hummed against his mouth, and with severe reluctance, he lifted his head. He didn’t want to get caught.
“You’re gonna like that restaurant, too,” he told her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “When I was scoping out the menu, I noticed pulled pork sliders were on it.”
“Oh, were they now?” she asked, her eyes lighting in anticipation. “They’re my weakness.”
“I know, and if it didn’t make me so happy to see that look on your face, I’d be jealous.”
Hannah grinned, then bit the corner of her lip as she snuck her hand under the hem of his shirt. “Well, it just so happens, I’ve recently discovered another weakness,” she confided in a whisper. “Sexy fiddle players with talented fingers.”
Her nails raked over his back, and Deacon’s hands clenched around her hips. If they were alone, he’d happily explore that weakness in detail, but as it was, they were on a cramped tour bus with zero privacy…and an all-too observant Max down the hall. Down boy.
Deacon shook his head with a playful smirk and reached back to take her hands in his.
“As for dinner,” he said, forcing them back on topic, and Hannah chuckled. “If it’s all right with you, I’d prefer to keep it to the three of us. We can do a cake with everyone here later, but I think it’d be more special if dinner was just Max and his family, you know?”
A smile spread across Hannah’s face, one unlike any he’d ever seen before, that lit her eyes and painted her cheeks with a rosy glow. It was so beautiful it nearly stole his breath. For a second, he couldn’t figure out what he’d said that made her so happy…and then, he understood.
He’d called them a family.
“I’d like that,” she whispered, and Deacon swallowed hard.
For years, he’d called the Fishers his family. They’d certainly filled the role better than his own, and they’d always made him feel welcome. He could argue that was what he’d meant this time, too; that Max treated Hannah like an honorary aunt. But that would be a lie.
Ever since Max was born, the three of them had had a special bond. A bond separate from her parents. Living on the bus together, going on tour, they’d spun into something new. Something that had only strengthened over the last week.
As Deacon stared into Hannah’s eyes, memorizing the way her face overflowed with love, he realized exactly what that something new was.
The three of them, together, felt like home.
“Dude, get out of here.”
Deacon lifted his eyes from the phone on his lap and found Tyler leaning over Miles to get his attention. The crowd outside Cincinnati’s top country station had thinned over the last few hours, but people were still wrapped around the building. What was supposed to be a small meet and greet with fans had somehow transformed into a major signing event.
Tyler lifted his chin toward the parking lot. “I told you before, we’ve got this covered. You’ve more than done your part. Family comes first.”
“I’m good,” Deacon said, smiling for the fan in front of him. He made quick work of his signature across the top of Blue’s latest CD and added, “I’ve got plenty of time.”
Okay, plenty was a stretch, but he wasn’t late yet, either.
It was getting close to pushing it, though.
Originally, the meet and greet had been scheduled to end fifty minutes ago. Once they arrived and saw how large the turnout was, they’d agreed to extend it an hour. With the cushion Deacon had built in, he’d felt confident he could swing the longer signing and still make it back to the bus to change before Max’s birthday dinner. Unfortunately, from the harried expression on Arabella’s face, sixty minutes hadn’t been enough.
“Okay, guys, here’s the plan.” Smiling her pleasant, professional smile, she cut in front of the next fan in line and lifted a slender finger to indicate she’d only be a second. “Ten minutes isn’t going to make a dent in this crowd. I suggest we pack it up and give everyone left in line a ticket to see you tomorrow. We have a couple hours between sound check and the concert, and I already okayed it with the venue. The fans here will grumble, but if I throw in a free download of your new single, they should go gracefully. What do you think?”
Deacon was the first to chime in. “Sounds perfect.”
A wave of relief rushed through his body as the others echoed his sentiment, and he sagged against his chair with a laugh.
He wouldn’t have admitted it, of course, but he’d been worried. Everyone had told him, repeatedly, that they understood if he had to leave early, but he hadn’t wanted to be that guy. The guy who asked for special favors, especially so early in the game, and without a contract that extended past the tour. That didn’t mean he hadn’t been watching the clock, though.
As Arabella explained the situation to the remaining fans, and promised everyone that free download for their trouble, the guys stood from their chairs. They watched the crowd start to disperse and exchanged a weary laugh.
“Man, that was crazy.” Charlie scrubbed a hand over his face. “Do you remember when we had to bribe people to come talk to us after a show?”
Miles snickered. “You mean, when Nate hit on every woman who walked by our table and promised them a good time?” he corrected. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Hey, I didn’t lie,” their drummer retorted. “I made every single one of those honeys feel special, and they all went home with merch. That’s creative salesmanship if you ask me.”
“Yeah, well, that wasn’t all they went home with,” Tyler joked under his breath, and Nate flipped him the bird.
Moments like this were when Deacon felt the most out of place. He didn’t have a story to add. He didn’t share those same memories. The rest of the guys had played together for five years, and most of them had known each other longer than that. No matter what he did, how long he played, he’d always be the new guy. With the band, with the label, and with the fans.
That was why he pushed himself so hard. Even with a contract extension, there wasn’t anything he could do about those missed years, but he could make himself an asset for the future. Hopefully, by staying later today, he’d given himself another notch in the asset column. Now, it was time to jet. All he needed was the all-clear from Arabella.
Having handed out the last ticket in line, she walked over to a group of suits, and as she shook each of their hands, her diamond sparkled in the setting sun. Deacon smiled as he tapped his hand against his thigh, strangely grateful for that ring. If it hadn’t been for Charlie proposing to Ella, he and Hannah might never have happened.
He was still smiling like a sappy idiot when a shiny black Escalade pulled up to the curb.
“What’s Stone doing here?” Tyler asked, folding his arms as a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped out. Deacon’s smile fell instantly as he stood up taller.
David Stone was a country music legend. The things he’d accomplished the last few decades redefined the industry, and his label housed the biggest names to ever come out of Nashville. Deacon had only met him one other time face-to-face, backstage at the Opry, but they’d both been preoccupied. Stone, by his one and only daughter’s recent engagement, and Deacon by a certain redheaded siren.
Stone’s assistant Catherine had handled Deacon’s original contract. Arabella hadn’t become the band’s manager until this past summer, and before that they hadn’t had one. He wasn’t sure if she or even any of the guys knew about his uncertain future, but Stone did.
“Not sure,” Charlie murmured, standing a little taller himself. The usually stern CEO pulled his daughter into a warm hug, then after a few words, turned and headed toward them. “But I think we’re about to find out.”
Deacon glanced at his cell phone. The sensible part of him knew he needed to head out. Between traffic back to the bus, and then again from the stadium to the restaurant, he’d barely have enough time to run a comb through his hair, much less freshen up. But the other part of him, the side eager to lock down his future, kept him from leaving just yet.
“Another successful event, gentlemen,” Stone praised as he came to a stop in front of them. Tyler nodded in agreement, but otherwise said nothing. His eyes narrowed in question.
“Daddy was in Columbus signing Eden’s opening act,” Arabella explained, smiling wide from under his arm. “He decided to come out here and surprise us.”
Deacon bit back a smile. As sweet as she was, their manager didn’t understand how nerve-racking it was to have the boss suddenly appear at their event. Even Charlie’s fingers had a jittery twitch. Blue was sitting pretty as Belle Meade’s number one group, and their tour had long sold out, but it was well-known that Stone never let his artists rest on their laurels.
“Ella tells me the crowd this afternoon tripled the expected attendance,” Stone said, looking them each in the eye. “Steel Drum continues to break records, and the five of you keep making me money. I think that deserves a drink. What do you say I take you boys out to celebrate, huh?”
An almost jovial smile tipped Stone’s lips, and Deacon stilled where he stood. How could he skip out now? This was his chance to impress the boss. But if he didn’t leave, they’d never make their reservation.
“Deke Latrell,” the CEO said suddenly, swinging his gaze in Deacon’s direction. “I don’t believe we’ve spoken much since you joined the band. Let’s rectify that tonight, huh?”
Tyler glanced at him and spoke up. “Actually, Deke has—”
“Sounds good,” he interrupted, shooting his friend a look. “Looking forward to it, sir.”
Stone nodded his approval and then gave his daughter the name of a nearby club. Apparently, Eden and Blackfoot Daisy, the newest addition to the Belle Meade fold, were driving out to meet them as well. As Arabella went to work wrapping things up so the six of them could leave, Deacon pulled Tyler aside.
“I can go for a few minutes,” he argued. “I’ll text Hannah and ask her to meet me at the restaurant. I should’ve done that anyway, once we knew we were staying later. This way I won’t backtrack to pick them up, and I can still make dinner and get face time in with the boss.”
Face time that would hopefully lead to a discussion about his contract. Hannah would understand. It wasn’t just him depending on his future with the band. It was Max and even her, too. Besides, even if his contract didn’t get ironed out, he couldn’t be the only one to not make an appearance.
Tyler gave him a skeptical look, but shrugged. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” Deacon replied, slipping his phone from his pocket. He texted Hannah with the revised plan and assured himself as much as anyone else, “Everything will be fine.”