Country Love (A Billionaire BWWM Romance) Read online

  You don't know them well enough, you're intruding, they're only putting up with you to be nice, they talk about you behind your back.

  When I moved here, I joined a gym as my first course of action. I met Chanel Reynolds in the locker room and nervously complimented her leggings. She made a blithe comment about hanging out that evening and I had jumped at the chance.

  I don't think she actually meant for me to show up at the bar that night. But I didn't have anywhere else to be, and I had no friends to speak of.

  One problem with being a rolling stone, gathering no moss, is that it makes it really tough to gather long term friends.

  Chanel had seemed startled to see me that night, but she gamely introduced me to her long-time friends Dayna Howell and Hayleigh Perkins. Nervousness made me drink a little too fast, dance a little too wildly and dance a little too crazily that night and from then on I was in.

  I think.

  We hung out, anyway. But it was usually me who had to make the plans. Like right now when I sent out a group text, demanding that we go out and eat some real food before I got sent off to Heath County, where chicken-fried steak was considered haute cuisine.

  Thankfully, they all said yes. It made me feel that maybe, just maybe, the loneliness that followed me everywhere might finally be over and done with.

  "Back to the homestead, then?" Hayleigh grinned at the table of the outdoor cafe I had chosen. She leaned over, poking me in the upper arm with a perfectly manicured fingernail. "Do you have to get your overalls out of storage?"

  I rolled my eyes as Dayna and Chanel fell out laughing. "I don't have to worry about that," I sniffed, playing along. "They issue overalls at the airport when you land. Like leis in Hawaii."

  The girls burst out laughing again, just as the waiter smoothly stepped in to retrieve our plates. It was a balmy spring evening and the scent of flowering trees could be detected in between the whiffs of exhaust.

  Dayna wiped her eyes and discreetly checked her makeup in the reflection of her cell phone. She needn't have bothered. In the few weeks since we started hanging out, I never once saw her with her makeup out of place. She was a girly-girl, from her pink cell phone case right down to her pink Cosmopolitan. "I'm honestly jealous," she sighed dreamily. "Tanner Brock is hot as hell."

  "And Mo is totally his biggest fan right?" Chanel teased. "You're a country fan from way back, aren't you Mo?"

  "Ugh," I groaned into my appetizer. "Twangy guitars. Kill me."

  The girls fell out laughing again, but I didn't join them. Instead I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for a moment.

  Holcum Texas. My family had spent three years there, the longest I had ever lived anywhere so I guess I could call it my hometown. Country girl, just one of the many identities I had tried on over the years.

  When everything went to shit in Holcum, I found I needed a new identity, just like always.

  City girl was the one I was attempting now. I love it here, I reminded myself as a bus whooshed by, belching out a cloud of black fumes. A car horn blared, echoing off the canyons of the skyscrapers that surrounded us. Dayna, Chanel, Hayleigh, they all grew up here, jaded and used to the hustle and bustle that surrounded us. They were true city girls, so I was trying to follow their example. I would never admit it, but a tiny part of me still jumped when the horns blare.

  There were a million indignities in city life. And as God as my witness, I would never admit this out loud, but there might have been a small part of me that missed the slower pace of country living. There were a few good memories of Holcum, like nights out in the back yard with LeeAnne, giggling and being a normal girl.

  Normal girl was an identity I never got to wear for long.

  My eyes popped back open before I could give away the fact that I was daydreaming. Dayna just said something clever, obviously, and I joined in the laughter, fidgeting in my chair to try to dispel the strange unease that settled in my stomach.

  "Well, if you change your mind," Dayna went on, "I have someone I want you to meet."

  "Oh?" My ears perked up. "Is he employed?" Dayna was a hopeless romantic, and took my single life as a personal affront to her matchmaking skills. Since I was new in the city, she considered it her job to fix me up with this brother of a friend or that nephew of a colleague and for the most part I allowed it.

  I was self-aware enough to know that guys tended to find my outspokenness and - well - my admittedly terrible temper, intimidating. But I had a few rules.

  "Gainfully employed," Dayna nodded.

  "Have all of his hair?"

  "Mmm," she hedged, "it's a little thin, but he styles it nice."

  I twisted my lips. "Okay, I'll allow it. How about teeth?"

  "Oh come on, really? Would I steer you wrong, Mo?"

  "Just checking," I grinned, relaxing and enjoying myself. "How do you know him?"

  "Jonathan," Dayna practically swooned when she said her new boyfriend's name and we collectively rolled our eyes, "plays racquetball with him at the gym."

  "Racquetball? Is he a time traveler from the eighties?"

  Dayna opened her big blue eyes innocently. "He...might be a little bit older than us."

  "Ugh, come on Dayna," I sighed. "Spill it. How much older?"

  Her eyes darted everywhere before she finally sighed. "Eleven years?"

  "That's not too bad," Hayleigh piped up, ready to defend sweet, well-meaning Dayna.

  I pressed my lips tightly together. "Uh oh, I know that look," Chanel said warningly. "She’s pissed."

  "I'm not pissed," I protested.

  "Yeah? You going to go on the date?" Chanel challenged.

  "I wouldn't steer you wrong, would I?" Dayna practically batted her eyelashes.

  "Er, Jeremy Fatone?" I reminded her.

  Chanel and Hayleigh hooted like talk show audience members. "Busted," echoed Hayleigh.

  Dayna nearly spat out her drink. "I totally apologized for that, come on Mo," she shrieked. "I had no idea he had a thing for toes." She lowered her lids meaningfully. "And come on, fetishes can be fun!"

  "Not when he's stealing my shoes on the first date," I shook my head. "I had to run out of there barefoot. Thank God I was wearing my cheap flats that night."

  "Well regardless," Dayna fluttered her hands, dismissing the last disastrous date she set up for me, "this guy is different. He just got divorced and...."

  "Divorced too, huh?" I sighed. "Old and divorced. The hits just keep coming...."

  "He's not that old!" Dayna squeaked.

  "I already said I'd go, Dayna." Then I paused as a worrying thought occurred to me. "Wait, you told him I’m black, right?"

  "Riiight," Dayna hedged.

  "Oh come on," Chanel butted in. "You can't spring that on people, they get thrown off." Chanel leaned back, touching her tightly braided head. "Don’t you remember what happened the last time? Gotta tell him she's black, Dayna."

  "I'll tell him," Dayna sighed, looking irritable.

  "I'm serious though," I added. "I'm glad you're looking out for me, babe, but I'm not into hiding things. I am who I am and if they can't handle it...."

  "Hell, I can barely handle it," Hayleigh interrupted my tirade by pulling the weariest, most over-it face I've ever seen.

  I had to laugh and conceded. "That's my problem, no one can handle it," I moaned.

  "Maybe Tanner Brock can handle it?" Chanel laughed. "He can use his lasso to tie you down and then play banjo songs until you give up and start wearing overalls again."

  "I am never wearing overalls again!" I declared vehemently, slamming my hand down on the table. "As god as my witness, I will go, do my job and then get the hell out before I end up with mud on my Jimmy Choos. I took the girl out of the country and the country out of the girl, and I am not going back!" I punctuated my little speech with a raised glass, and the girls raise their fists in solidarity.

  "Just make sure to clean the hay out of your braids before your date," Dayna smiled. "I'm holding you
to this Mo. I think you're going to like him."

  "Uggggh," I groaned. "Hopefully I won't be so desperate when I get back from Heath County that I throw myself at the first thing that doesn't smell like cows." I nodded as our entrees were placed in front of us. "I need to go do my job and hurry back here to the real world."

  Chanel raised her fork. "We'll make sure to keep it for you while you're gone."

  I nodded at her, oddly touched by her offer, and she took the moment to swipe a bite of my tilapia. I swatted her hand and laughed, leaning back in my chair again and inhaling the smoggy air. Then I covered my mouth and discreetly choked into my hand.

  Chapter Four

  Tanner

  It was a few moments before sunrise, but I was already saddled up and ready.

  The hills rolled out around me, stretched like a welcome mat at the door of my little corner of the world. I always appreciated the view from atop a horse, and today was no different.

  Feeling like the king of the whole damn world, I rode out on Falcon, a spirited two-year old gelding I had bought upon my arrival here.

  Falcon was the first in many steps I needed to take to get this place running again. Music was my life now, but it wouldn't always be. I was well aware of my short shelf-life. I was a phenomenon now, but one wrong move, one bad photograph, one moment of weakness and it could all be snatched away. Stardom was fleeting but the land here? This was forever.

  The early morning mist still clung to the grass like a carpet, swirling around Falcon's hooves as we trotted amiably along the fence line. The pale pink clouds deepened to fuchsia as the first sliver of sun peeked above the eastern hills, sending out tentative fingers of lights that stretched out into dawn. I slowed Falcon and sat there and watched the break of day. "Sunlight's Waking," I muttered to myself, trying a few different tunes. "Gotta write that shit down." I almost wished I had my guitar.

  Damn, even on vacation, I can't shut off the music. It slithered into my brain, demanding to be sung. I started humming to myself, letting the words of the song develop in my mind like old-fashioned film. The sun rose higher in the sky, beating down on my shoulders. "It's gonna be a hot one," I said out loud and knew right away that was the hook.

  Songs come to me this way. When my mind is clear and my thoughts are elsewhere, they worm their way in until they drown out everything else in my head. I know from experience that I won't be able to focus on anything else until I got this down.

  "Whoa, boy," I drew Falcon up and slung his reins over a fencepost. He immediately lowered his head to chomp on a few tufts of grass. I fished my notebook and a stubby nubbin of pencil out of the back pocket of my Wranglers.

  "Gonna be a hot one," I mused, testing out the tune. "Better take our clothes off now..."

  I chewed on the pencil, waiting. The rest of it was eluding me, but I knew better than to fight it. It would come. And dammit, it was going to be a hit. I'm damn good at this, there's no denying it. It ain't arrogance if it's the truth.

  I swung myself back up into the saddle and kicked Falcon into a canter.

  We were just cresting the first rise along the western edge of the property line when I saw the first bit of repair to be done.

  The sun was beating down in earnest now. "Here boy," I told Falcon, draping my shirt over his saddle. "Hang on to this for me?"

  It was hard work in a way I wasn’t used to anymore. Being onstage wears you out, but it’s nothing compared to fence repair on a ranch this big. Lunchtime came and went, and I had barely made any progress. Two miles of repairs behind us, with about thirty-eight miles to go.

  Shit.

  Falcon was looking a little lathered and I had worked up a quite a lather myself by the time I noticed the cloud of dust on the lonely road that bordered Brock Ranch.

  "Oh right, the photographer," I said out loud.

  Falcon whinnied.

  "You couldn't have reminded me?" I chastised him. He looked down to the ground and refused to meet my eye, like he felt ashamed of himself. I had to chuckle. "Well, if she wants to get a real feel for Brock Ranch, then let her sit tight while I get this done. I'm on a tight timetable here."

  I went back to repairing my fence.

  Chapter Five

  Monique

  "That's him, Miss Williams," the driver drawled. "You want me to leave you off here?"

  "Here?" This was the middle of nowhere. No house in sight, just a bunch of scrub brush and brown hills. Everything was shades of brown; sepia, umbers, siennas...the only thing that broke up the monotony of brown was the brilliantly blue sky above us and the golden tanned skin of the man working along the side of the road.

  I squinted through the tinted windows at him and bit my lip without meaning to.

  A man in a cowboy hat and jeans was squatting by a fence rail, a piece of nail poking from the corner of his mouth. He looked like some sort of cowboy fetish illustration come to life - completely shirtless and I'll be damned if his torso wasn't glistening in the harsh sunlight. He was all tanned and toned and looked like he knew how to swing a hammer, which he did just then with enough force to make me jump.

  He didn't even look up to acknowledge us. "You sure about that?" I asked the driver, squinting. "That guy doesn't look like he's expecting anyone."

  "Dead sure, Miss Williams." The driver sounded like he was about to faint with excitement. "You're looking at Tanner Brock's biggest fan right here. I've been to twenty-one of his shows. I took this past March off and traveled around following Tanner's bus from show to show...."

  "Yes, okay thank you," I cut him off. "I guess if you could let me out for a sec, I'll go see what he wants us to do." I sighed as I pushed the door open and stepped into the blazing Texas heat.

  Tanner still didn't look up, even though he was clearly showing off for me. Why else would he be shirtless? His gleaming abs looking like something I could only achieve after three hours with Photoshop.

  I wished I could stop staring at him. He clearly didn't need the ego boost, not with this little performance he was putting on for my benefit. He wanted me to see him, and admire him, and I was falling right into his little trap. It was pathetic the way I was already undressing him in my mind. He looked so good, I could almost ignore the scent of manure wafting through the air.

  Not manure, I remind myself. Bullshit. Get a grip, Mo.

  "Mr. Brock!" I sang out with a smile. I put on my bright, professional, get-shit-done face and stepped forward.

  My heel sank right down into the muddy dirt road.

  He grunted like a caveman, then set another nail, still supremely disinterested in acknowledging my presence. Fine, whatever, asshole. I tried to surreptitiously dislodge my shoe, but only succeeded in stepping backward into deeper mud. The muck absorbed my heel with a disgusting squelching sound and I was suddenly immobilized. So much for getting out of here without mud on my shoes…

  Tanner swung the hammer with easy strength, and the clang of the driven nail made my hair stand on end. I blinked, wondering just how much longer he was going to make me wait here. He couldn't ignore me for the rest of the day, could he?

  I'll be damned if this asshole thinks he can intimidate me....

  My anger was rising in direct proportion to how hot it was, which meant any moment I was going to start bawling him out.

  Just as I was ready to unleash my legendary temper, he took off his cowboy hat and wiped his brow. He looked up lazily, like he only just noticed the huge black town-car in front of him. Then he shielded his eyes and squinted in a pitch perfect caricature of a celluloid cowboy. "Sorry bout that, darlin'" he drawled amiably. "Was in the middle of somethin' there."

  I rolled my eyes. Dear Lord, get me out of this heat. "Not a problem," I gritted my teeth.

  Tanner Brock braced his arm against the fence, paused, and then leapt over it with a feline grace I would have never expected from a guy his size. I forcibly closed my hanging open mouth, but I could feel my jaw dropping again as he strode towards me.
/>   Up until now, I hadn't gotten a good look at his face. But when he flashed me the full force of his megawatt smile, I felt a flutter in my stomach that had nothing to do with the greasy airport food I had for lunch.

  It wasn't that his face was absolutely perfect.

  It wasn't that his blue, blue eyes were exactly the same shade as the cloudless sky above us.

  It was...him. Maybe the hot sun was scrambling my brain, but he seemed larger than life as he approached me with that rolling, swaggering gait. He took up space not only with the sheer, physical size of him, but also with the aura that surrounded him. He was moving, but he didn't need to. The very air around him swirled with his larger than life energy. In that moment I understood why he was a star. Men like him… They have a presence that has to be felt to be understood.