Hillbilly Rockstar

She dragged her weary body past the luggage carousels, looking for her flight number. That’s when she saw him.

“Garrett? What are you doing here?”

“Makin’ sure you get home safely. Lots of crazies out there this time of night.” He closed the distance between them. “Liberty, you look like hell.”

You should see how shredded I am on the inside.

“Did I accidentally send you a copy of my itinerary?”

He shook his head.

“Then how did you know I’d be here?”

Garrett gave her a very level look. “He called me.”

Her heart nearly stopped. “When?”

“Tonight. After you left LA. He didn’t want you to come home with no one to meet you.”

That’s when she lost it and started bawling right there in baggage claim.

Garrett—strong, tough, take-no-shit Garrett—pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried.

By the time she’d calmed herself, the carousel had stopped spinning and her four bags were the only ones remaining.

Garrett leaned back to look at her intently, keeping his hands on her shoulders. “I never should’ve let you take this assignment.”

Not having the life-changing experience with Devin was more awful to contemplate than walking away from him. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You’re not. We need to talk. But you need to get your head straightened out first, okay?”

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, you’re officially off duty next week. And, yes, that’s SOP after a long assignment, not special treatment because you’re a girl.” Garrett strode to the carousel and hefted two of the duffel bags. “Jesus, woman. What do you have in here?”

“Clothes. Shoes.”

“I don’t even want to know what’s in those.” He pointed to the other duffel bags she’d hefted. “You have a lot of baggage.”

You have no idea.

“Come on. The car is double-parked.”

Liberty settled in Garrett’s plush Lincoln Navigator. She lived a solid thirty minutes from DIA—without traffic. Her boss wasn’t the type to make idle chatter, but the silence just caused the voices in her head to get louder and louder.

“Liberty? You okay?”

No. “Why?”

“You sort of growled.”

Jesus. Would this emotional basket case shit never end?

“Look. I know you said I needed my head on straight before we talk, but the deal is, I need to talk to someone now. Since this . . . entanglement with Devin grew out of an assignment, and because of nondisclosure agreements, I can’t call either of my sisters and cry on their shoulders. So it looks like you’re my only choice as confidant—whether or not you like it.”

After a few moments, he nodded. “Keep the sex stories to a minimum, okay?”

“Deal.” Liberty inhaled a deep breath and started to talk.

Chapter Thirty-three

Devin was more than a little jet-lagged when he pulled up to his sister Renee’s place in Laramie two days after he’d left LA. But guilt quickly replaced exhaustion when he remembered he hadn’t been here in three years.

He might’ve hidden in his rental car all damn day if Renee hadn’t come out and pointedly waited on the deck for him.

Grabbing the bouquet of fall flowers off the passenger’s seat, he climbed out and followed the brick path up to the deck, noticing the new landscaping and all new siding.

He stood in front of her, not knowing where to start or what to say.

Renee smiled at him. “Flowers? The only time Chuck gets me flowers is when he’s done something to piss me off.”

Devin took the first step and hugged her. “I haven’t done nothin’ wrong. Besides bein’ the world’s shittiest brother.” Maybe he shouldn’t have started with that. “I saw them and thought you had some like these in your wedding?”

She put her nose in the bouquet. “I’m surprised you remembered that.”

“Like I could forget you got married earlier than you planned just so you could fulfill Michelle’s dream of bein’ a flower girl before . . .” He cleared his throat and looked away. “She had so damn much fun tossing them petals in the air. I don’t remember much else, besides Michelle wearing that big floppy hat because she didn’t have hair.”

Renee’s breath caught.

Devin’s gaze snapped back to her.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you mention her name in . . . years.”

“It’s not because I don’t think of her,” he said brusquely.

She hugged him. “I know. I’m glad you called. I’m really glad you’re here. Let’s go inside.”

Renee’s house was a standard three-bedroom ranch, a family place filled with everything that made it a home. Comfy furniture, pictures, and the clutter from a husband and two kids. She pointed to the dining room. “Have a seat. I’ll bring coffee out.” He heard her humming while she put the flowers in water. She returned with two cups of coffee and a plate of homemade banana bread.

“Mom’s recipe?” he said, stealing a slice.

“Nope. Mine. And it’s better.”

He took a bite and nodded. “It is.”

They sipped and nibbled in silence, and Devin wondered if he had the guts to start this conversation.

Renee fiddled with the quilted place mat. “So, Devin, what brings you by? Because even when you’re in the neighborhood, we don’t always see you.”