Faith and the Rock Star (Lake Howling Book 8) Read online

  His expression darkened. “I bet that’s hit her hard.”

  “Really hard. I may have served him up when she went to the restroom.”

  “May have?”

  Faith leaned closer. “He may have called when Hope left her phone with me. I then may have told him he may think he’s a godlike figure now but he’s still the boy who wet his pants on the first day of school.”

  Buster snorted, which meant he was amused. He wasn’t a man for big or loud gestures, but you knew he was in your corner if you needed him to be. “That may get him here.”

  “Doubtful. He’s too much of a big deal for Lake Howling now. Which, I’m not gonna lie, I struggle with. Ryan was quiet, never spoke unless he had something to say. My mom used to say he’d make the perfect broody hero in one of those novels she inhales. He’s forgotten where he came from. Forgotten that his sister needs him like she always did.”

  “Harsh, Faith. The man is a bona fide superstar and likely has a punishing work schedule. I can’t imagine the Ryan I knew is not still the man he is today. He wouldn’t want to deliberately upset his sister or mother, although the jury is still out on the latter, to be honest. She’s out there again cutting off my direct route to The Roar. If I go the other way, it’s at least a minute longer.”

  “That has to be hard on you. But all I’m saying is Hope was really hurt and upset.”

  “She’s pregnant,” Buster said, rounding the counter, which was clearly all he planned to add on the matter.

  Faith watched as he gave Hope a hug and brushed a hand over her head. He then returned and made hot chocolate for both of them even though Faith wanted coffee.

  “It’s better for your sour disposition. I’m trying to sweeten you up,” he said, handing a mug to her.

  “Didn’t work for you.”

  He simply smiled and pulled out three chocolate chip cookies and gave her the plate.

  “We’re the town grouches, you and I, but I’m the head grouch, and people expect it of me. You, however, are too beautiful to be one. So get your shit together and go see to your friend.”

  She bared her teeth at him, snatched the plate, and marched to where Hope sat sniffling.

  Chapter 2

  Ryan drove through the redwoods and into Lake Howling with apprehension burning a hole in his gut. Autumn was easing to winter and the air was cool, the sky a clear blue. Traffic had stopped at the beginning of Main Street.

  “Weird.”

  This place wasn’t exactly a thriving metropolis, with only one road in and out. No one passed through on their way to anywhere, which was one of things he’d hated most about it growing up.

  He eased to a stop behind a blue sedan, letting his eyes become reacquainted with the town he’d grown up in.

  Ice-cold clear waters sat to the right; more giant redwoods stood at the back of the buildings to the left of Main Street, watching over the town like they had for years. He couldn’t see any noticeable changes, but then he’d only just arrived.

  He’d come home because he needed to; Faith Harris had reminded him of that. Okay, maybe her delivery had been off, but her words had hit their mark. It was past time for him to come here. Past time for him to see his family and friends again.

  “What kept me away from here for so long?” When no reply was forthcoming, he pushed that thought aside for another day, because Ryan was sure he didn’t want to examine the reason too closely right now.

  He lowered his window as a tall, elegant woman walked toward him. He looked at the long tail of her dark hair hanging out the back of an LAPD cap then at the face beneath. He knew those eyes would be dark like her brother’s. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a tall, lanky girl.

  “Morning,” she said, looking in his window.

  “Morning.”

  Her eyes studied his face. He too wore a cap and dark glasses, but he was sure she’d recognize him.

  “Ryan?”

  “Hey, Katie.”

  She smiled, then leaned through the window to kiss his cheek. “Well now, this is a surprise. What’s it been, thirteen years?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Long overdue for a visit then, to my way of thinking.”

  “Good to be back,” he said, unsure if that was the truth or not.

  “You all good?” She moved closer to inspect him. “You look kinda pale.”

  It’s been eleven years. I haven’t seen my mother since then, and my sister only briefly. What do you think?

  “I’m okay. Just been a long trip to get here.”

  “You drive in from Brook?”

  “I did but flew in before that.”

  “Well, the air around here will sort you out. Hope will be glad to see you before the baby arrives too. And your mom,” she quickly added. His mother had that effect on people. “You know where they live?”

  “On the ridge?”

  “That’s it. Hell of thing, her and Newman hooking up.”

  “It is that.” Ryan had to agree. “Just out of interest, why are you stopping people?”

  “Voluntary donations for the new facility.” She smiled.

  “There’s a new building being erected?” That surprised him. Howlers weren’t that keen on change. “First one in a while, from what I remember.”

  “Hard to believe, right?” She laughed.

  “So, what is being housed inside this facility?”

  “It will be a bigger place for concerts, gatherings, the occasional basketball game, stuff like that.”

  “So, a hall or rec center?”

  “The book club are calling it the facility, but as to why, I have no idea.” She smiled.

  “They still running the town?”

  “Complete control.”

  Ryan snorted out a laugh as he dug into his pocket. Pulling out a few notes, he handed them through the window. “Here you go.”

  She held out a woven basket for him to drop them into.

  “No bucket?”

  “Hope wasn’t happy with the plastic bucket we’ve been using, so she made this.”

  Ryan laughed. “That sounds like my sister.”

  “She’s a peach all right. Now you head on, and I’m sure I’ll see you about town.”

  “Sure. See you, Katie.”

  Detective McBride had changed, which happened over eleven years, and there would be a whole lot more of that, he knew.

  Strange how she hadn’t mentioned anything about his career. Usually that was the first thing people wanted to talk to him about. They wanted a photo or an autograph too. Things Ryan had taken a while to adjust to. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call a people person, preferring his own company. But the lifestyle he now lived had forced him to adapt.

  He drove along the only road out of town, passing the turnoff to where he’d find his mother’s house—the home he’d been raised in. Most of the Howlers, as the locals were called, lived in a grouping of streets there and the rest along the lake, tucked up driveways or roads.

  Lowering the window, he enjoyed the cool breeze and inhaled deeply. No pollution or loud noise. Strange how he’d forgotten how much he liked that.

  He turned into the road that led up to the ridge, and once there he found Newman and Hope’s drive. The mailbox said “Newman and Hope” in big black letters. He parked and got out.

  Walking to the edge of the property, he looked at the view laid out before him.

  Home. The word slipped into his head. He hadn’t had one of those for a while; he’d been transient, following the dream until he’d achieved it.

  The home his sister shared with one of his oldest friends sat long and low to his left, but his eyes were on the vista.

  Aqua-blue waters that went for miles. Mountains capped with snow that he and some friends had been stupid enough to traverse in their youth. Redwood trees that were rooted deep into the earth after hundreds of years of survival rose high, standing sentry over Lake Howling, the small, picturesque town he’d just driven through.
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  “I’m back,” he whispered, and unlike in LA, no one but he heard. This place had been home for years, where he’d formed the type of friendship that was a lifelong bond. He was a Howler no matter how long he was gone from this place and always would be. He let the memories come and go as he studied the scene before him. Remembered that here he’d just been Ryan Lawrence, the boy without a father and with a mother who never knew how to show love or affection. His sister, however, had loved him unconditionally, as he had her.

  A lance of guilt reminded him why he was here. He’d walked away from her and not looked back. Shaking off his thoughts, he made for the front door. He couldn’t believe his transient sister lived here. That she’d settled and put down roots and was now about to have a baby was still a shock to him.

  “Life is full of curveballs,” Ryan muttered as he stepped through the door when no one answered his knock.

  “Hope?”

  Still no answer. And then he heard the singing, slow and soulful. It seemed that had changed too. His sister had had a terrible singing voice, unlike him.

  Following the voice, he took in the soft tones of the living areas and huge window offering yet more of the sensational view, and as he drew nearer, he realized she was singing his latest release. His lips curved into a smile.

  He’d never wanted a home of his own, yet he had to say this had a nice feel to it. The furnishings were comfortable yet classy. Newman, Ryan thought. Hope had no idea about things like coordinating colors.

  The voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand as he reached a hall. Husky and, he had to add, pretty damned amazing. Strong, and could hold a tune.

  When had Hope learned to sing like that?

  “Hope?” He knocked but no one answered, so he pushed it, then lost the ability to breathe.

  The back to him was wet, and the dark hair hung in a thick curtain to her jaw. His eyes traveled down the wet length of her spine to the high, round curves of a sensational ass. Long toned legs seemed to be endless. She sang a few more words, then choked on the last one, and before he could move, she’d turned, and he saw her red eyes. She’d been crying.

  Her scream was ear-piercing.

  “What are you doing here?” She grabbed a towel and held it to her front, but not before he’d seen the spectacular rack of Faith Harris.

  “It’s Ryan, Faith. Sorry to scare you. I thought you were Hope.” He shut the door quickly.

  Hell, she was beautiful. That body was long and lean but curved in all the right places. He hadn’t felt his pulse pick up speed like this in a while. When you were surrounded by beautiful women all day, you became immune, or so he’d thought.

  “How long have you been here?” she yelled through the door.

  “Just got here.”

  “Well, now you’ve had an eyeful, you can leave!”

  His feet didn’t want to move because he’d seen her tears. “Faith, are you okay?”

  “Go away!”

  “Can I do anything for you?”

  “No. Hope’s not here, so go away!”

  “Where is she?” he called back, once again in control.

  “Brook, with your mother!”

  He’d left Brook a few hours ago, dammit.

  “She’ll be back soon. G-Go meet her in town!”

  She sounded like she was crying again.

  “You sure you don’t want me to wait for you? You sound upset.”

  “Go away, Ryan.” The words were flat and unemotional, and yet he knew she was anything but behind that door.

  Shaking his head, he left because he needed coffee and food, both of which he’d find in Lake Howling. He also needed to leave before he gave in to the urge to walk back into that bathroom and hold the woman who he had history with before he’d left his hometown eleven years ago.

  She’d been the first girl he’d fallen hard for. Tall for her age, she’d had long dark hair then, and soft tanned skin, partly from her Native American heritage, and partly because she loved being outside. But she’d not had those curves when he’d left.

  He’d never be able to get the sight of her standing there wet, with the sun streaming through the window burnishing her body in a golden glow, out of his head. And what a body.

  Why was she crying?

  Getting into his SUV, he headed back into town. He’d resented this place as a child. Resented its size and how they’d lived their life looking at the world through TV and magazines. Isolated and cocooned.

  He’d also resented being the son of a woman who cared for her children but had never made life easy on them. She wasn’t like some of the other mothers in Howling. Not overly demonstrative. She didn’t bake cakes for bake sales or encourage sleepovers. Both he and Hope knew how to recycle, eat on a budget, and wear clothes that were homemade or made to last. They’d been nothing like what their friends wore.

  This place had lingering memories of his father too, even though he’d only been in their life briefly. The father who meant nothing to him because he was a stranger, and Ryan was happy to keep it that way.

  Entering Main Street, he noted the banner strung across the main road that he’d missed earlier.

  “Talent Show. Professional judges, entry fee to go to building the facility.”

  He remembered that about this place too. They loved a cause, an occasion, anything that involved a gathering, a committee, and fairy lights.

  Parking, he pulled on a jacket and lowered the peak of his hat. He then attempted once again to push aside visions of naked Faith Harris and got out. Wandering, Ryan looked in windows, reacquainting himself with the place he and his friends had spent their youth running wild in.

  Why had Faith been crying in Hope and Newman’s bath?

  It was midmorning, and there were more people about than he’d expected. The roadblock seemed to have finished, or perhaps they were just waiting for more cars to arrive?

  Looking to the end of the street, he noticed they’d cleared the land next to the old church and guessed this was where the new facility Katie had spoken of would be built.

  “Well now, this is a nice surprise,” the elderly man coming toward him said after he’d been wandering awhile. “Nice to see you back in town, son.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Heath.” Ryan shook the man’s hand. Apparently dark glasses and a ball cap didn’t stop old friends from recognizing you. He leaned down and kissed the soft cheek of the woman at his side.

  “How long has it been, Ryan? Fifteen years?” Walt asked, rocking back on his heels.

  “Eleven, I think,” Ryan said, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he studied the couple before him. They’d helped raise Ryan and Hope. Spent time with them, taught them to dance, and made them do their homework when their mother was working. They’d been adopted grandparents. Walt’s face had more lines and his hair would now rival Santa Claus’s. Lizzie too had a few more lines, but for all that they looked as spritely as ever.

  “I heard things are going well for you,” Lizzie said in a massive understatement, and with that sweet smile she’d always had. Ryan remembered the times she’d hugged him or kissed something better. Funny, he hadn’t thought about that in years either.

  “They are going well thanks,” Ryan said shooting a look around them, he didn’t see anyone stopping to stare, so clearly his disguise was working on them.

  “Well, you come on home for some baking, and I want to see those moves of yours that I caught a time or two on the TV.” Lizzie squeezed his hand. “Hope will be pleased you’re back, as will your mother. Especially with the arrival due any day.”

  “They’re both in Brook, according to my sources. I’m sure they will be back soon.”

  “Lovely.” With another pat on his hand, they turned to leave.

  “Nice for Militant to have a break from her protesting.” Walt called the words over his shoulder.

  “What is she protesting about now?” Ryan asked. His mother had always been on some crusade when he was yo
unger.

  “I’m sure she’ll fill you in, dear,” Lizzie said. “See you later.”

  Ignoring the buzz of the cell phone in his pocket, Ryan crossed the street, pushing Lizzie’s words about his mother aside. Millicent Lawrence was always angry about something. He wandered down to the lake as his phone buzzed again. Pulling it out, he saw it was the band’s manager. Ryan let it go to voicemail.

  Once he reached the edge of the lake, he dropped to his haunches and touched the water, letting his eyes wander over the rippling surface. A fresh breeze slid over him, and he inhaled another deep breath.

  The air was different here. Clearer, cleansing somehow.

  He hadn’t thought he’d missed this place until right now. But looking around him, he realized that maybe he had. Maybe seeing it through the eyes of an adult and not a resentful, restless boy was causing that.

  Lake Howling had been a light and dark place inside him.

  Be careful what you wish for. His mother had said those words to him the day he’d left Howling, having received a scholarship at Berklee College of Music in Boston. He’d been determined to find a better life. Well, she’d been right in that. He’d got what he wished for and more. He had to be happy with that. Didn’t he?

  Lately, he’d wondered if it was more than he wanted. He enjoyed the music, but the rest was so much more than that. The fans, the lifestyle. Sometimes he just wanted to step off the crazy train and take a breath.

  Pushing up the sleeves of his sweater, he dipped his hands in the ice-cold water. Water he’d swum, skied, and kayaked all over.

  Home.

  Chapter 3

  “They’ll drop off if you keep them in there for too long.”

  He took a few more seconds to enjoy the peace, then turned to face the inevitable photo opportunity or autograph. It was part of his life. He knew it went with the territory of being a success—after all, without fans then he wouldn’t have a career—but he was about as comfortable with it as a wet cat.

  Rising, he turned.

  “If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have said anything,” the brunette muttered.

  “Hello again, Faith.” Her eyes still looked red, but she was in control now.