“Are you shitting me?” Mackenzie said and stepped back, right out of Hunter’s embrace and—whoa, what was up with the you’re-such-an-asshole glare she shot his way? “You just used a line from my own song to butter me up.”
“I did not.” Hunter quickly ran through every song of his and . . . “Nope. I didn’t.”
“Yes. You did. The line is from ‘Wasting Time.’ Which I wrote.” She rattled off the singer’s name, a nine-time GRAMMY winner, as if talking about the lady who did her hair.
“You wrote that song? Never mind, of course you did.” He felt like an idiot for not recognizing her sound before. Mackenzie had a way with words that was exquisitely unique and undeniably hers.
“And the move you did there? I’ve got a song for that too. It’s titled ‘Good Luck with That.’”
He laughed. “What move?”
“That one.” She waved an unimpressed hand at his chest. “It was straight from your playbook, used to charm the ladies. I’ve seen you do it a thousand times.”
“There was no move and no ulterior motive. It was a hug.”
“It was a move. Not to get laid or for a kiss on the southern region of your body,” she said and didn’t even crack a smile. “But to get me to agree to cowrite your album.”
Okay, so maybe that was in the back of his mind. And sure, putting his hands on Mackenzie had been a serious lack of judgment. But he’d hugged her because she looked vulnerable, and lost, and like she could really use a friend right then.
Too bad none of his other friends were as soft and silky as she was. And he sure as hell didn’t hug them until he could feel what kind of underwear they had on. Hell, his fingers had been inches from her ass. And her breasts, the ones he’d stopped paying attention to the second she became a band member, had been crushed up against him and—
Holy shit, he’d put the moves on her.
On Mackenzie, his artistic other half, who he’d spent a good five years putting in the friend zone because he never mixed business with pleasure—especially when that bandmate was also like family.
Mackenzie Hart, the sassy Georgia peach with the saddest fucking eyes on the planet, deserved more than a cheap line from a guy who could only go the distance if it was in a tour bus. “Move unintentional. And I’m not interested in talking about my album right now.”
She skewered him with a look that—damn—if he hadn’t seen her stumble earlier, he would never have known she was blind.
“I’m serious, I came here to see Caroline. And yes, I came to see you.” He lowered his voice. “You look good, Trouble. I’ve missed you.”
He’d missed her so much that the first few months after his honeymoon he’d found it impossible to breathe. He’d missed making music with her, missed that she got him—totally and completely. Most of all, he’d missed her laugh.
It took a lot to get her to let loose, a lasting effect from losing everyone she loved so young. Which was why when she did and that laugh of hers came out, sweet and care-free, it was like music for his soul.
Too bad she looked as if she hadn’t laughed much as of late. Something he found himself desperately wanting to fix.
“The person you miss doesn’t exist anymore,” she said quietly, those mossy-green eyes locking on his, and a squirrelly feeling settled in his gut. “I’m not that girl anymore. And I won’t ever be her again.”
And wasn’t that a damn shame, because the girl he’d known was remarkable. A survivor who had finally started to find her own strength, to discover all the things that made her so damn special. He’d hate to think that she’d come so far in the years following her mama’s death only to retreat back inside herself.
“I’m not asking you to be anything more than who you are. I just want the chance to get to know you again.” He wanted to see her thriving and living a full life, out from beneath the anger and the shadows. According to Brody, she barely even ventured out of her house.
“And what if you don’t like the new me?” she asked, and man oh man, this lady knew how to break a guy’s heart.
“Liking you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” he said, and her gaze dropped to his chest. “I’m more afraid that I won’t live up to the hype.”
Hadley had told him he had problems opening up to anyone other than his guitar, and the only distance he’d covered during their brief marriage had been from the bunk of a tour bus. When it came to personal relationships with women, he was a one-hit wonder. But Mackenzie was back, right next to him, and he wasn’t about to let her slip away.
Not this time.
He’d never really known his mother, and he didn’t know how to do long-term with the female population. Just look at his disaster of a marriage.
Nope, Mackenzie had been the only constant woman in his life, and he’d naively believed she’d be that constant for him forever. Because whatever this thing was between them, it went beyond the surface, beyond the physical, and beyond all the BS that typically complicated relationships. Mackenzie was like family to him.
Sad thing was, just like his dad, she’d walked away too.
“Hunter—” she began, only Brody cut her off.
“I wouldn’t worry about the hype, since you might not live to see tomorrow,” Brody said, leaning against the wall, a prissy little dog tucked under his arm like a football. “First you crash a three-year-old’s tea party. Then you bring her a dog?”
“I believe the dog has a name. It’s Duchess,” Hunter said, forcing a light smile to his face. “And if you’re going to crash a party, you’d better bring a six-pack or a dog.”
“You chose wrong,” Brody said.
“The look on my niece’s face said the opposite.” Hunter rocked back on his heels. “By the way, Duchess is a pomapoo, a breed that is said to be the perfect bed buddy for idiot agents everywhere. I hear they like to sleep on your pillow, but they are known to be excited tinklers. So I’d stock up on some of those tinkle pads A-sap.”
“I’ll take the tinkle pads and a pair of handcuffs out of your commission. Because I will not have you two ruin Caroline’s birthday dinner. So if it takes cuffing you together and shoving you in a room until you work this out, then that’s what needs to happen.”
The thought of handcuffs and a locked room with Mackenzie had all sorts of new and interesting ideas spinning through his head. Mackenzie’s head must have taken the same track, because her face went an adorable shade of pink and she kept licking her lips.
Interesting.
“And you call me a diva?” he asked Brody. “I just came here to drop off Duchess and then head home. Your tea party is going to be just fine.”
“You can’t leave,” a tiny voice said from behind Brody. “You promised we’d twirl.”
Hunter crouched down to look at his niece, who was dressed as if she were going to high tea with the queen herself. “I’m coming back for your big party this weekend.”
“But I wants you to stay tonight with me and Duchess. You’re the only one she knows, and she might gets lonely if you leave.”
“Caroline’s got a point,” Brody said with a smile. “You might want to stick around, make sure Duchess doesn’t get lonely. Maybe even sleep with her on the couch. I’m short on wee-wee pads, but you can always use your jacket.”
Hunter ignored his cousin to focus on Mackenzie. The nervous way she clung to the dog’s harness, her body angled for the front door. He’d come here for answers, and yeah, he’d been pissed. He still was. But his goal was never to make Mackenzie feel unwelcome. Not when he was pretty sure she was about to spend her night alone. “I think you already have a full tea party.”
“We can make room,” Savannah said from the kitchen doorway. Her tone was honeyed, but her glare was glacial. “Can’t we?”
Hunter hadn’t a clue as to whom the question was addressed, but Mackenzie was the one to answer.
“You bet,” she said with enough false bravado to have him squirming.
“Are you sure?” he asked, because the last thing they needed was one more thing between them. “I can always come back.”
“No one should have to miss out on one of Caroline’s famous tea parties,” Mackenzie said, her smile strained.
“Not even overbearing, dumb fuc—” Brody looked down at Caroline, who was staring up at him with wide eyes, waiting for the bad word. “Funkles who show up uninvited.”
“Even them,” Mackenzie said and placed her hand on Hunter’s arm.
Mackenzie was in desperate need of some girl talk.
So when Duchess, excited by the new people, started tinkling all over the floor, Mackenzie made a beeline for the kitchen.
“Fucking puppies” followed her down the hallway. “Jesus, Hunter, get some paper towels.”
Mackenzie smothered a laugh. Muttley snorted, as if saying puppies. The two cousins were arguing when Mackenzie walked into the kitchen. She was greeted with the homey aroma of lime zest and warm cupcakes.
“Oh good, I was just about to bring you a mint julep,” Savannah said as the cabinet doors rattled open and closed. “It’s my great-grandma’s special recipe, and I took a few liberties with the bourbon. Now I’m glad I did.”
“Last time I had your great-grandma’s mint julep, I woke up on your couch with Caroline braiding my hair and Muttley licking my face,” Mackenzie said. “Plus, I’m not talking to you.”
“You were a minute ago.”
“That’s because I didn’t want to upset Caroline on her special night.” Mackenzie narrowed a gaze in on Savannah’s general direction. “A little warning would have been nice.”
“For you and me both.” Savannah popped the top off the cocktail shaker and poured two glasses, setting one in front of Mackenzie.
“I’ll stick with some sweet tea.”
“Okay,” Savannah said, but she never moved to the fridge. “And maybe it happened this way for a reason. All that stress about the when it would happen had almost paralyzed you, but now it’s gone.”
Only to be replaced by the how. And as far as Mackenzie was concerned, how this was going to play out moving forward was a heck of a lot more terrifying.
“Don’t misunderstand, I will forever be grateful for your patience and support, and I understand that Hunter has every right to be here. Caroline is his niece, and I would never expect y’all to leave him out.”
After all, he was family, and Mackenzie was somewhere on the periphery.
“And of course I imagined, if I ran into him again, what I’d say.” After she’d pulled her life back together. “But not like this. This was so . . .” Shocking? Confusing? Fucked-up? “Unexpected.”
Meeting Hunter again without any warning had rocked the carefully laid foundation she’d constructed in the aftermath of her illness. Her ability to know what was coming had been the key to her rehabilitation and continued independence. In the beginning, she’d let go of everything and everyone she loved so she could build a new life, create a new existence, and grow into the person she needed to become in order to thrive.
But after that hug, she wanted to go back and be the person she’d been before. The person she’d been with Hunter.
“Expectedly unexpected,” Savannah said, apology thick. “If I had known Hunter and Brody were going to ambush you, I would have stopped it. Or at least warned you.”
“So you didn’t know?”
“Of course not,” Savannah said firmly, and Mackenzie felt some of the tension dissipate. “Have you ever known me to betray a friend’s trust?”
“Never,” Mackenzie acquiesced.
Although Mackenzie had known Savannah for years, it was only after Mackenzie lost her sight that the two women had really become close. Savannah was such a loyal and generous friend that Mackenzie was relieved to know she hadn’t been a part of the con—and embarrassed that she’d wrongly accused Savannah.
“I’m sorry I even considered it.”
“Don’t apologize,” Savannah said gently, resting her hand on Mackenzie’s. “I know from experience just how unsettling a Kane’s surprise appearance can be on a girl. Just like I know from experience that being surprised by a Kane doesn’t always have to be a bad thing. In fact, if you let it, it can be pretty amazing.”
Savannah and Brody had been high school sweethearts who’d gone separate ways after graduation. Savannah had big dreams, and Brody was content to work at his dad’s bar. Two degrees later, Savannah had come home to Nashville with a degree in law and six carats on her finger. Brody had taken one look at that ring and known he had to grow up, and fast, or risk losing the love of his life.
It had taken him a year to convince Savannah he’d changed, and another to make her his wife. There wasn’t a day that went by when Brody didn’t show Savannah just how much she was loved.
Their love was the kind that went soul deep and grew with each passing moment. The kind of love Mackenzie dreamed about but feared she’d never experience.
Mackenzie rubbed the familiar ache in her chest. It had been a long time since a surprise had been in her favor. “I knew that running into him had to happen sometime. I couldn’t expect you and Brody to keep my secret forever. I just wish I had been more prepared.”
“That’s the thing about secrets,” Savannah said gently. “They wait until the worst possible moment to unravel. It’s like some sick joke the universe plays. He waits until you think you’re in the clear, and then, boom, he goes all Ghost of Christmas Past on you.”
“He?”
Savannah laughed. “Honey, no woman would wait two years to tell you what your problem is, then drop it on you at a kid’s tea party. Oh no, women are more sensitive than that. We come to your house with a tub of ice cream, a jug of moonshine, then let you cry it out in private.”
A warm hand tightened around Mackenzie’s, then slid a cold mason jar into her palm.
“This doesn’t feel like sweet tea,” Mackenzie said.
“Bless your heart,” Savannah said as if Mackenzie were dim-witted. “At this point you need something a lot stronger than tea.”
Mackenzie rarely drank. She didn’t need to add the world spinning to her already complicated situation to realize it was a bad decision. But one glass couldn’t hurt.
“Does it come with ice cream?”
Savannah sat next to her at the counter. “I’m more of a cake girl, but after your day, I wouldn’t judge if you wanted to go straight for a gallon of double chocolate chunk.”
“Double chocolate chunk is reserved for pity parties of one. This situation calls for something a little more hopeful.”
“Are you saying you’re hopeful about all of this?”
Mackenzie shrugged. “I understand my reality.” But I want to believe in the dream. Because by this Mackenzie knew her friend was referring to more than just working with Hunter again.
It was her inability to let go of the hope of more that made Mackenzie such a great writer. It also made her a heartbreak waiting to happen. And Mackenzie’s heart had been broken enough for a lifetime.
“And what reality would that be?” Savannah asked.
Mackenzie laughed, but it was heavy and raw, and well, shoot, she was going to cry. Something she rarely did, and never in public.
She wasn’t sure if she was angry or hurt or relieved. Maybe it was a mixture of all three that had her eyes burning. Or maybe the part of her that refused to let go of Hunter was pushing through common sense, because she knew letting go would eventually help ease the pain. She should be jumping into survival mode, but all she could think about was this second chance she’d been presented.
Not at love or forever—those weren’t in the cards for her. But maybe she could find closure. Repair the damage she’d caused by leaving and find whatever it was she needed to finally let go.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, I guess let him get off his chest whatever he needs to,” Mackenzie admitted. “He has the right to have his questions answered.”
“And what if he asks you about how you feel now?” Savannah asked, and Mackenzie shrugged. “Do you know how you feel? About him?”
Sadly, yes. She felt the same way she always had when it came to Hunter. She was hopelessly in love with a man she couldn’t be with. Time may have passed, her life had been flipped on its head, but her feelings for him hadn’t changed in the slightest.
“I am such a loser.” Mackenzie dropped her head to the countertop. “It has been three years, and I still can’t move on.”
“Love doesn’t work like that. It’s forever.”
“Even when you wish it wasn’t?”
“Especially then. You can either hide from it or face it, but it isn’t going away.”
Mackenzie had hidden from it before, and look where that had gotten her—relying on Savannah’s home-crafted courage in a mason jar to get her through the night. She wasn’t sure that confronting it would end any differently, but at least there wouldn’t be those annoying coulda-shoulda-wouldas haunting her.
Savannah gave Mackenzie’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You okay?”
“I will be,” she said, lifting her head. “But ice cream might help.”