The Rancher and the Rock Star (25 page)

Her shoulders hunched, and her hands flew to her mouth. “How? What?” Further words dissolved into choked sobs.

“You can’t live without him. I don’t want you to live without him.”

She spun on him with tears in her eyes, and the collective oohing from their gathered friends turned into clapping and cheering. But there was no joy behind Abby’s tears. “You!” She cried, her hands trembling. “How dare you?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

S
HE MIGHT AS
well have crushed him with a mace.

“Abby, I . . .”

She held up her hand. Without speaking, she headed toward her horse. Stricken by the reaction, Gray could hear her sob across the yard as she threw her arms around the stallion’s cresty, bay neck.

“I think you got her, dog.” Miles slapped him on the back.

His stomach churned, the joy he’d been savoring curdled in his gut. “I guess so.” Swallowing back acid, he watched in despair.

“You got Gucci back! How did you do it?” Kim hopped to his side and kept hopping in place. He’d have given part of his soul to have had Abby react that way.

“Ed found the people who bought him,” he said dully. “He called them for me and since they had another prospect I didn’t have to pay that much more to get him back.”

“Are you okay?”

He squirmed under her perceptiveness. “Yeah, I’m not sure your mom knows what to think. Go be my spy, would you? And make sure she’s okay?”

He waited several excruciating minutes before gathering the courage to approach her. She stood with her hands buried in Gucci’s long mane speaking to Lindsey and Misty. Gray beseeched them with his eyes, and they excused themselves.

“Are you still angry with me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Her voice came with frightening seriousness.

“For goodness’ sake, why? Abby . . .”

“Stop, Gray. If you don’t understand why, then I did a very poor job of making myself clear during this relationship.”

“You don’t want me paying bills for you. I get that. These are gifts, Abby.”

“They’re gifts I cannot possibly compete with.”

“Since when are presents about competition? Good lord, I . . .”

“That saddle was the desire of her heart, and you handed it to her on a silver platter. I was making her work for it.”

“And she has worked for it. She’s a great kid, and you’ve given her an incredible work ethic—she didn’t expect it. She’s beyond excited, and you would have given it to her in a heartbeat if you could have.”

“But I couldn’t.”

“She doesn’t care.”

“But I care. And Gucci . . .”

“I was very lucky. I know you don’t want me butting in, but can’t you see this isn’t help? You said you’d let me show you I’m not just passing through your life, well, this is what happens when someone who loves you simply wants to do something nice. I wasn’t trying to buy your love. Why would I ever think I had to? My heart broke when I found out you had to sell him, Abby. I wanted him back, too.”

“But the decision was mine, and I’d made it. You had no right to unmake it and bring back all the pain it had involved.”

“Pain? For the love of . . . Forgive me for wanting to make you happy, Abby.” Anger slowly overtook the hurt in his heart. Strong resiliency was one thing. Stubborn pride was another. He admired her desire to make it on her own—he loved her for it. But this was ridiculous.

“Look.” She lowered her eyes. “You did make me happy. I admit that now he’s back, I won’t be sending him away. But I’d like to pay you back for him over time.”

Her words slashed through his heart as cleanly as a fencer’s foil. “I don’t want . . .”

“I know. I know your heart was true in all of this. But it’s a fundamental issue you don’t seem to understand. It’s no big deal to you that you have money, but I don’t want it. What you need to do is find something worthy to spend it on. Don’t make me your charity, Gray. I loved you for being you.”

Loved?
“I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know you don’t.”

Gravel crunched in the driveway by the house, and both he and Abby looked to the red, mid-sized Ford rolling to a stop. When the driver emerged, Gray knew his day had disintegrated beyond salvation. “What is he doing here?”

After swiveling his head like a periscope scanning for the enemy, Elliott locked his sights on Gray and broke into a loose-limbed trot. “Take it easy, Gray. Just hear me out.”

Before either could say a word, Chris materialized like Merlin between them, purple-faced, his eyes almost invisible behind a murderous squint. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Elliott hefted a folded tabloid newspaper and held it beside his temple, wagging it for emphasis. “I have something Gray and Abby need to see. You,” the corners of his mouth rose as he turned to Chris, “have already seen it.”

“You little prick. Coming here was stupid.”

“We’ll see who’s stupid, not to mention the prick, in a minute.”

Gray took the proffered newspaper. Abby’s gaze held something very close to terror, as she looked with him at the picture printed beneath a banner headline: Gray Covey’s Secret Uncovered.” He vaguely heard her ask Dawson and Kim to take Gucci back to his stall, but he couldn’t have said whether they obeyed since his stomach was deciding whether to collapse on itself or send its birthday-food contents hurtling. He’d seen the photo before, too. In Abby’s darkroom.

“What is this?” Elliott’s boot could have been planted across Gray’s throat in a dark alley for all the sound that came out of it.

“It’s a sting. It’s time to stop and smell the rat, Gray.”

“How did you get this?” Anger churned in his gut, but it didn’t translate to his voice. A sick, terrifying thought pounded at his brain as he turned to Abby. “How did he get the picture?”

“I didn’t.” Elliott stepped to Abby. “I’ve never seen the picture before.”

“St. Vincent!” Chris made up for Gray’s lack of voice. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Elliott’s calm baffled Gray. He bore the assurance of a man who’d fixed the fight and knew he couldn’t lose. “Then your singer would never find out you’re the one submitting all the pictures to national rags.

“That is the biggest cockamamie load of bull.”

For the span of a heartbeat Gray glanced at his manager, and then his senses returned. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Elliott? You’ve been trying to make money off of our friendship and now you’re using Abby and Chris? He’s right. Get out of here.”

“No.” Abby’s tremulous voice stopped him.

He frowned. “Abby, don’t. You don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly. Because I sent the picture.”

If the ground had opened up and swallowed the entire place, Gray wouldn’t have been more stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I sent it, Gray. You know it’s mine. But I put the false name on my outgoing e-mail and sent the photo to Chris. Elliott’s telling the truth.”

Gray’s stomach went into a free fall where the only landing spot was the hard reality of something awful. Spark and Miles now stood within earshot. Miles looked ready to eat someone. Spark, in rare outward anger, looked ready to hand him the fork and knife.

“You wouldn’t. I said I didn’t want any part of that scheme.”

“And you have no idea how guilty I feel. But you refused to see the truth.”

“This isn’t all.” Elliott’s voice, the only calm thing in the whole bizarre scene, cut through Gray’s churning thoughts. “The picture appeared this afternoon, so there’s been enough time for reporters to start making their ways here. The copy I had Abby send with the picture reported you were
somewhere
in Minnesota. Somehow,” his eyes shot scathing darts Chris, “that got changed specifically to Kennison Falls. This place will be crawling with media within twelve hours.

“You lying scumbag.” His manager’s face now flamed red.

“So, then, you’re calling Abby a lying scumbag too?”

“She knows what’s in this for her if Gray stays on top.”

“That’s enough!” Gray’s anger finally erupted. He spun on Chris, knuckles tight, muscles straining like slingshot bands about to be loosed. “You’d better tell me right now what’s going on. I’ve trusted you with my life, almost literally on occasion.”

“And look where you are because of it.”

“Then you owe me the truth.
Have
you been screwing with me? Is it you making this tour a spectacle?”

“Ask him, Gray,” Elliott interrupted. “About Jillian Harper and how that one’s backfiring on him. And how he told the people at your mother’s nursing home he was me.” Elliott remained the only calm person in the group. “I never sent my pictures anywhere, and I know my files were accessed at least three times when I wasn’t online.”

“You have no proof I did those things.”

“Aside from my word, which we all know is worth a chewed wad of gum at the moment, I figured out a way to catch a thief.” Elliott looked from Gray to Spark to Miles. “I figured if we could manufacture a newsworthy picture and put it in Chris’s hands, he’d bite.”

Gray didn’t like one bit where he was headed. “If you’re blowing smoke up our asses for revenge, Elliott . . .”

“The only revenge I’m after is to kick your sorry ass for never once considering I wouldn’t do what you’ve accused me of doing.”

The first nudging of shame wormed its way into Gray’s heart. Elliott was right—he had believed the worst of him from the start. Because Chris had convinced him of the worst.

“Why did you drag her into this?” Gray barely glanced at Abby.

“I had to beg her.” Elliott said, with sincerity only long friendship allowed Gray to see. “But now Abby can attest that she’s the only one who had access to this picture. And she didn’t send it to the paper either.”

Abby’s touch on his bicep begged him to look at her, but his mouth filled with bile and cotton. Why hadn’t she told him? Forced him to listen? No other betrayal in his life had hurt so much. When he did face her, pallor had sapped her skin of all summer color.

“When did you decide you couldn’t trust me so you had to go behind my back?”

“This was never an issue of trust,” she whispered. “Elliott did beg me, but I had no intention of helping him until last night, when Chris made the decision for me.” A visible tremor shook her. “He said he would do anything to keep you in the public eye. Then he called me a gold-digger one too many times.”

Gray stared at his bristling manager.

“This has gotten beyond ridiculous.” Chris’s tone branded them all dimwitted underlings for whom he’d lost patience. “Gray, we’ve always used publicity to keep your name in front of your fans. The recent stories and rumors that make you look like an unwitting victim can’t be bought. They’re too good to pass up as PR opportunities.”

“You jeopardized someone’s career and reputation and almost ruined a friendship for the sake of record sales and manufactured public sympathy? How did you ever get the idea I wanted that kind of fame? How long have you believed you could use me like some sort of chess piece in my own life?”

“You’ve been a pawn in your own career since you sold your first record.” Chris made no attempt at conciliatory speech. “How the hell do you think you got to the top? You’d be nowhere without my ideas.”

Sucker punched and bruised in every inch of his heart, Gray faced his manager somberly. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I think it’s you I’m telling to leave.”

Abby, numb and lost, stared at a Gray Covey she didn’t recognize. She’d moved to full-fledged hatred of Chris, but the words still socked her in the gut.

“Get your head out of your ass, Gray. Don’t be ridiculous.” His manager made to slap his back but Gray twisted away. “What?” Chris stared in disbelief. “Are you firing me?”

“No. I’m not stupid enough to make another snap life decision. I’m just asking you to get away from me until any of this makes even a little sense. I don’t know whether to murder you in your sleep or sue you from here to Jupiter.”

Chris didn’t even blink. “Good idea. You think and we’ll talk when you’ve got your perspective back. You’re letting a loser photographer and a gold-digging woman trying to keep her farm from crumbling around her, color your emotions.”

Fury boiled over in Abby’s stomach. “You pompous, conceited . . . How dare . . .”

She took an involuntary step, but strong hands grasped her from behind, and Spark whispered in her ear. “Don’t, Abby. Let it be, darlin’.”

She allowed him to hold her back but didn’t hold her words. “Now I’m the one telling you to leave.” Her jaw ached with tension. “Whatever Gray decides to do, you are not welcome on my farm, Mr. Boyle.”

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed in disbelief. He opened his mouth, shut it, and turned away. “You and your wife will have to find your own way back to the hotel, Jackson, unless you’re ready to leave now.”

“We’ll be fine.” Spark was the only one whose voice and demeanor remained unchanged. Even Elliott looked like the pipsqueak who’d started a fight and been forgotten during the pummeling.

Abby scanned the groups still chatting and eating cake in the yard. By some miracle, no one seemed aware of the bomb that had detonated two hundred feet away. With cold that originated bone-deep, she turned back to Gray. “I’m sorry.” She wanted to reach for him, but the ice in his eyes stopped her. “We were trying to help.”

“Help?” Gray took a pointed step back from her. “You used me every bit as much as Chris did.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Elliott said. “Take it out on me. I twisted her arm.”

“I trusted her.”

“You can still trust me.” Tears stung the back of her lids, and she fought them angrily. “Or do you think Chris is right? I’ve been doing all this to make money off of you?”

“Yeah, that’s it, Abby. I’ve suspected you all along. I faked it convincingly night before last to get my way with you, didn’t I? Damn, I’m as good as I think I am.”

“Oh, that was cruel.” She held her tears to a slow leak.

“Gray. Man, I think it’s time for you to stop talking, all right?” Spark laid his hand on Gray’s forearm. “You’re in shock. So am I. Don’t say something you’ll regret.”

Gray listened and ran a hand through his hair—hair Abby had combed and woven through her fingers, and wanted to touch now even though her insides were in physical pain. How could she still want him so badly when it was obviously impossible between them?

“Right,” he said. “It’s probably best I leave, too, before I do say anything else.” His empty eyes made her stomach flip then hit bottom like a dive gone horribly wrong. “I’ll put my things together and go to a hotel.”