Chapter Two
Setting her glass on the counter, Tiffany turned toward the back door and headed out into the dark and cold. The enormous two-story barn beyond the house was lit up like a Christmas tree. A tradition, Spencer had called it, now in its first year.
But for right now, it was refuge.
She opened the door and stepped into the barn. Of course it had the normal equipment anyone would find in a barn. Spencer had chosen to keep the original homestead that had been purchased and half of the acreage. The rest was slated for new development construction after the new year.
The other half of the barn was nothing but man-cave.
Pool table. Dart board. Big-screen TV. Spencer had collected an array of guitars, a keyboard, and a drum set—but didn’t know a thing about playing them.
The second floor of the barn was designed for Julie. There were craft tables and drawers of crafting items. Tiffany loved joining Julie in her craft area. It had been an area in which they had bonded.
Right now, though, Tiffany needed a moment to collect her thoughts. She flicked on the gas fireplace and plopped herself down on the brown leather couch.
Blake had asked her if she was really happy and now her gut churned and her heart ached. No. No, she wasn’t happy at all.
She knew better than to think she was jealous of Julie either. Julie had married Spencer, but Tiffany truly had never wanted to marry him. When she told Blake they were best friends, she meant it. They’d seen each other through everything since they were seven.
Of course they’d had a physical relationship, but it wasn’t love. Not the kind of love that every Keller and Benson in that house had.
She longed for that. Craved it.
What was so difficult about her that she couldn’t find someone to love?
She thought of herself as quite a catch. Successful. Beautiful. In good shape.
She loved to laugh. Loved to have a good time. And, really, she assumed she must be fairly good at the physical love, she’d practiced that enough.
But it wasn’t enough.
The first sad tear of the holiday season fell. They would fall occasionally until February 15th. However, this was the first time she couldn’t hold it together until she got home. For years, she’d been able to conceal it behind her happy go lucky smile, but not tonight.
Tonight it hurt too much.
Blake stood in the kitchen and finished his beer. Warner had walked through, given him a happy slap on the shoulder, and walked back to his wife.
There was no intent on the family to forget the non-family members, he was more than sure of that. But it was a moment for them to rejoice. That was cool with him.
He set his bottle next to the glass with the perfect imprint of red lips.
He looked around, but realized Tiffany had never come back inside. What else was there for him to do but to go look for her? Besides, he’d seen that fizzle in her eye. Tonight something was bothering her.
Blake headed toward the door before Clara called after him.
“Where are you going?”
“Just thought I’d get some fresh air,” he said with a smile. “Pretty exciting news tonight.”
“It’s the best. They’re the last of the cousins to finally start a family. I’m not sure where we’ll do Thanksgiving when all these kids start getting bigger,” she said on a laugh.
“My family is tight too. We’ll have Christmas in February when we break on tour.”
“They do that for you?”
“Yeah, pretty cool, huh?”
Clara rested her hand on his arm. “That is precious.”
Warner called to her and she hurried away. Blake felt the warmth of his own family resonate in his chest. Yeah, they’d do that for him. They’d do anything for him. He understood the bond in the other room.
He opened the door and headed outside.
Immediately he noticed the lights in the barn. Footprints made by high heels in the snow led him to the door where he was certain to find her. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind his company.
He opened the door, peeked his head inside, and then absolutely had to go inside. It was the coolest place he’d ever seen.
He must have let out some kind of moan too, because Tiffany stood from the couch in front of the gas fireplace and looked at him.
She was wrapped in a quilt, her shoes tossed to the side of the room. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, well,” he stumbled not really knowing what to say. “It seemed like a family moment. I thought I’d see where you went to.”
The room wasn’t well lit, but he saw her eyes narrow.
“I can leave if you’d rather,” he offered, but he really didn’t have any intentions on leaving. He’d learned over the years that if he just kept talking, people usually warmed up. “This has to be the neatest man-cave I’ve ever seen. Practical,” he pointed to the equipment kept at one end for tending to the property. “And what an escape,” he said walking in further and taking in the manly ambiance.
Flat screen TV. Bar. Pool table. He’d heard some recording artists had studios like this. Maybe that’s what he’d have someday. He wasn’t a lead man, but yeah, he could go for something like that. Of course he wouldn’t have a tractor in the other half of the barn, no he’d have a few Harleys.
“Spencer kept the original barn. It has a lot of character,” she said softly.
“It does. What’s upstairs?”
“Area for Julie. It’ll be a great place for a kid to run freely in don’t you think?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Her eyes flashed again. There was something about that kid thing that was making this woman uncomfortable.
An array of instruments in the corner caught his eye. “Does he play?” he asked as he walked toward the guitars and picked one up.
“No.”
Blake looked up at her. “Why have all this?”
She shrugged. “Maybe he wants to learn. Besides, Warner is married to his cousin. Could be just to make him comfortable.”
“That’s stretching it,” he said with a laugh. “My guess is that it’s just a guy thing. If I had a barn like this, it would be filled with motorcycles.”
“You ride?”
“Not enough.” He positioned his fingers on the strings of the guitar and gave it a strum. The notes that cascaded from it made him wince. “Nope, he doesn’t play them. This sucker is out of tune.”
For the first time, he heard her laugh and it did something to him. He liked it.
Blake set the guitar back down. “So what do you do?”
“For a living?”
“Yeah.”
She tossed her long red locks over her shoulder and extended her neck toward him. “I design these,” she said.
A ruby earring dripped from her lobe secured by a diamond stud.
“You design jewelry?”
“I do,” she said easing back. “I designed Julie’s wedding ring too.”
“Nice touch.” He actually wondered how much that hurt her to do. He wasn’t totally convinced about the best friend thing.
“You just don’t think I’m his friend do you?” she asked as if it were obvious. He wasn’t ever very good with hiding his thoughts or feelings.
“I’d be very suspicious if I were his wife.”
Her lips tightened. “That just means you’re not a very trusting man.”
She walked back toward the sofa and plopped down on it. He had to follow. She was drawing him in. It was keeping him amused.
“I’m a very trusting man,” he said sitting down on the other end of the couch. “I come from a trusting family. Lots of siblings. I just think that if my husband’s best friend was as beautiful as you, I’d have my doubts. If I were a wife, that is.”
“True love squashes those kinds of doubts.”
Now he smiled. He knew that too. “You’re right.” He looked down at his wrist at the leather band that he always wore. “I guess you and I have a lot in common. I designed this,” he said adjusting to show her the band.
“Is that in case you forget your name?” she commented to his name BLAKE carved in the leather.
“Maybe,” he laughed and so did she. He was winning her over. “Junior high home economics class. I was much too cool to sew. The teacher was one of those that didn’t argue with students; she would just guide you. I thought I’d won some epic battle of wits by not using the sewing machine. I learned to emboss leather and Bedazzle. Somehow she managed to get me to do that without belittling my macho exterior.”
“Very important job, mentoring boys with big egos.”
“It is indeed. She also got me my first gig.”
“The home economics teacher?”
He nodded and extended his arm along the back of the couch. “She belonged to some new wave church. They needed a bass player. I was thirteen. What did I know?”
“So you played at her church?”
“Wild music too. Heavy metal Christian.” He laughed. “Not my style, but hey, they loved me.”
“Now you play for Warner?”
“Biggest gig of my life. I’m playing the Opry tomorrow. Seriously, how much better can it get?”
“Clara invited me,” she said with a twist of her wrist as she watched the bangles on her arm spin.
“Are you going?”
She lifted her eyes to him—green and sparkling. “I just might.”
“Just in case you do, know that my solo is dedicated to you,” he said reaching his hand out to give the little dangle at her ear a flick before he stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving the party?” Her voice cracked as she asked. A little pride swelled inside of him knowing he was leaving her wanting more of him.
“I promised my mom I’d call. I’m still a sissy boy with a big ego.” He winked and walked out into the cold.
Tiffany sat on the couch and watched as he disappeared. If it wasn’t a cold winter night, she’d have assumed she’d hear the sound of a motorcycle driving away.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Seriously, she hadn’t thought she’d meet a man full of tattoos, jewelry, and long hair at Spencer’s house. What a difference. Spencer with his expensive business suits and Blake with his leather.
But the thought of that leather made her heart hiccup. She turned back to look at the door as if she wished him back and he’d come.
He’d looked as though he’d have run away from home years ago, but he was off to call his mother. He wasn’t shy about it either.
Tiffany touched her earring, the one he’d touched with his finger. Suddenly she couldn’t wait for tomorrow and knowing that solo was just for her.