The Best Kind of Trouble

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I LOVE HORSEBACK RIDING. Thank you so much for having us out today.” Tuesday turned her face up to the mid-November sleet as if it were awesome.

  But since her best friend really was in heaven over all the outdoorsy stuff the Hurleys seemed to eat, sleep and breathe, Natalie pulled her hat down a little more and thanked the heavens she’d worn her gloves.

  Vaughan and Paddy kept racing with Damien as Mary hung back with them. “God, they’re like kittens.”

  Natalie laughed. “If he’s all tired out, he’ll sleep better and stop being so cranky.”

  Mary snorted. “This is the second time I’ve been through an album production with them. It’s just getting started. It’ll get worse before it gets better, I’m sorry to say. They’re in each other’s faces so much, judging, creating¸ leaving themselves so emotionally open to one another, it makes them all tense.”

  Natalie nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it like that, but it makes sense. I’d be cranky, too, I guess. It’s just...weird to have Paddy be the cranky one. I’m usually the cranky one in our relationship.”

  The sex, though, it had been...endlessly inventive, yes, but far more intense. She supposed he was burning off all the stuff from his brothers that way.

  Tuesday chortled. “Yeah.”

  Natalie took off her hat long enough to swat Tuesday with it. “Hush, you.”

  “Whatever he’s doing has calmed you down. I say it like I don’t hear it on the other side of the house. It’s better to pretend.”

  Blushing madly, Natalie shook her head. “Stop that! There’s no way you can hear from your side of the house.” Or she hoped so.

  “I know. It’s just fun to make you turn red.”

  “I’m glad we have our own house with no one close enough. I can’t imagine what goes on at Vaughan’s place. Ezra, well, he keeps his business away from the ranch, and I know what Paddy is getting up to.” Mary winked at Natalie, who groaned.

  “One of these days, I’m actually going to meet the mysterious Ezra face-to-face.”

  “It’s pretty impressive. I mean, Damien is hard enough to manage, Ezra and all that darkness he carries around would be a full-time job. But he’s no chore to look at and his voice is pretty fantastic.”

  Natalie nodded at Mary’s reference to Ezra. “Nice and gravelly. And he loves animals. That’s so sweet.”

  “He’s the driving force behind Sweet Hollow Ranch. Even though he doesn’t go out on the road. He’s their big brother and they depend on him.”

  Natalie thought there were more layers to Ezra than anyone would ever truly see. “Paddy said he and Ezra do most of the writing?”

  “Yes. But things are evolving. Ezra and Paddy are used to doing most of the writing themselves, but this time Damien and Vaughan are doing more.” Mary shook her head as she watched the brothers cavorting all around.

  “So far there’ve only been two fistfights. I’m told this is a record. Of course, Damien is the most laid-back. Paddy and Vaughan, my God. I had to use the hose on them day before yesterday.”

  Natalie gasped and then choked, laughing. “Really? You have to tell us all about that.”

  Mary snickered. “It’s a time-honored way of ending disputes in my family, you understand. I have two brothers, and when they got into fights, my mom would turn the hose on them. Anyway, Paddy and Ezra work together well. Mostly. Paddy’s a perfectionist. He makes them do things over and over and over again until he’s satisfied. When they’re in the studio, Ezra is the leader of the group. Paddy is usually okay with that, but sometimes, you know, he’s fussy. So he and Ezra were pissy with each other, and Vaughan took Ezra’s side, and Damien threw up his hands and walked out, and Vaughan and Paddy started all that pushing and trash talk, and it spilled out of the barn to where I’d just come out. Vaughan tripped on the bottom step, and he took Paddy down with him.

  “Then it just got stupid, and it upset my pig, damn it.”

  Mary seemed to share custody of a pig named Violet with Ezra. The damned animal grunted in this happy, singsong way anytime she caught sight of Mary.

  “So the dog is barking, and the pig is squealing, and Ezra is yelling at them to stop it, and Damien is off to the side laughing and throwing dirt clods at them, making it worse, so I went over, turned on the water and started squirting them. It’s pretty cold so I imagine that water was freezing. It broke up pretty fast after that.”

  Natalie laughed so hard, she cried. She’d slowly gotten used to the raucous noise the four Hurley boys made whenever they were together. At heart, it was affectionate and protective. She could deal with that. Plus, they were all sort of hot grunting and rolling around.

  The three of them laughed and laughed until the brothers noticed and turned, riding back to where the women were.

  “What are you guys up to?”

  Mary waved a hand. “Never you mind about that. How about we go home? I have stew making.”

  “Seconded.” Natalie held up a hand.

  Paddy pulled even with her. “I think given the shade of red Nat’s cheeks are, that a roaring fire and some hot stew is in order.”

  “Fine. Joy killers.” Tuesday winked at her, and they headed back to the stables before walking over to Damien and Mary’s.

  * * *

  MARY SENT THEM to the store with a list and strict orders, but Paddy was pleased, anyway, to get her alone.

  “How’s the album coming along? I heard about the fight between you and Vaughan.”

  He laughed. “Which one?”

  “The one Mary had to break up with the hose.”

  “That little fucker tripped and took me down with him. After messing up his freaking bass line four times in a row.”

  “You’re a harsh taskmaster.”

  “Hmph. Live is one thing. You know everyone puts their all into a show, and it can be uneven, but it’s okay because that’s the beauty of watching live music. But an album is different. If he wants to write this time out, he needs to bring it and to work his ass off.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Really? I figured you’d say I was being mean.”

  “I think you’re one of the most relaxed, laid-back people I’ve ever met. So if you’re intense about this thing that matters to you so much, this thing you do and put all your life blood into? What’s wrong with that? I figure your brothers will punch you in the face if you go too far.”

  “I didn’t expect you to react that way.”

  “How did you expect me to react? Shock? Because I don’t do something really creative, you think I can’t understand it?”

  She was so provocative sometimes. There were times he knew she did it on purpose. It used to offend him, but really he’d begun to realize she didn’t do it with most people, only with people she liked and trusted. She wanted more from him in her own way and her raw, honest questions were about that.

  “My music is this intensely personal thing. It’s hard to put it into words. I guess I just expect people to judge me when they hear I’m precise.”

  “Well, if they know you and your brothers, they know you guys are intense with each other all the time. I imagine it’s hard to expose yourselves to each other over and over. I imagine Vaughan wants to impress you, and I imagine you want the best from him and you wouldn’t be giving him this chance if you didn’t think he could do it. He’s your baby brother. He wants you to respect him and believe in him. And when you get too harsh, he punches you in the face. And Damien throws dirt clods and laughs, and Ezra yells at you both to stop because he’s the big brother, and that’s what he does.”

  He laughed.

  “But he should punch something else because I like your face.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell him that. Maybe it’ll save my face from being punched in the future.”

  “I doubt that. It seems to be a popular mode of communication between you Hurleys.”

  “You and Tuesday wouldn’t punch each other in the face if y
ou disagreed.”

  “No.” She shrugged. “We have a rhythm. We always have. But we get into fights sometimes. Mainly we use humor to poke at one another. We push each other when we don’t want to confront ugly truths. She was the one who pushed me to go out with you back in the summer. She said I should give you a chance.”

  “I knew I liked her for a reason.”

  “Anyway, I think the people you love most and are closest to you have an immense power to really hurt you because you let them in. Strangers can say something to me that won’t hurt, but if Tuesday said them, or you, for that matter, they could slay me. I’m not going to second-guess how you make records. You’ve been doing this with your brothers for years and years. Given your success, you’re all good at it.”

  “We’re having some growing pains.” There, he said it.

  “How so?”

  “Until the last album, Ezra and I did the lion’s share of the writing. We come up with the raw material and then we meet as a band and work through the songs. We always have more songs than we have room for, and usually we do those songs as bonus singles for our fan club around the holidays. Anyway, we bring the lyrics and usually a basic track to the group, and we all work on it. Everyone is good at something different. Damien lays a beat, Vaughan funks it up, I create the texture and Ez, he puts it all together into something coherent.

  “Last CD, Damien was falling in love. His life had gone a revolution. He had two of his songs on the album, including the title song. This time, though, he and Vaughan both came to the meetings with material of their own. Some of it was good. We’ve been able to take it and in one case, we melded a few ideas together into one. One will most likely make it onto the CD. Vaughan’s is too rough, and he’s super touchy about criticism.”

  Paddy found a parking space near the front doors of the grocery store.

  “Well, if he wants to do what you guys do, he has to be open to the criticism you all get from each other.”

  He got out, walking around to her side where she waited for him to open her door. He knew she did it for him. She was perfectly capable of opening her own door and that sort of thing. But he liked to do it for her, and she made room for it. It never ceased to make him smile.

  “See, you’re right. And we try to tell him that. But he takes it the wrong way and punches me in the face.”

  “Perhaps Damien can tell him that? I mean, you and Vaughan are close. And you’re a lot alike in temperament, so maybe a different voice saying it means he can hear it better.”

  “It seems underhanded to go behind Vaughan’s back like that. He’s a big boy.”

  She grabbed a cart. “Or, you can realize this is a business as well as a creative endeavor in your family, and that sometimes we hear things better when they’re delivered by a person who comes at us in a way we don’t react to negatively. Humans are crazy that way, Patrick. Sometimes their emotions get in front of their logic.”

  He bumped her with his hip.

  “While we’re being honest, can I tell you how much I hate it that we can’t go anywhere without women eye fucking you?” She said this casually as she put cartons of milk into the basket.

  “You’ve never expressed a single bit of jealousy before. I like it.”

  She frowned. “I don’t. It sucks. I like to think I’m above that stuff, and I am so not. I mean, I’m guessing you’d be getting female attention even if you weren’t who you are. You’re pretty nice to look at, and you’re flirty and sassy.”

  He didn’t stop himself from kissing her temple. “You know it’s just how I am, right? I mean, I might smile and nod but you have absolutely nothing to fear. I’d never do that to you, nor do I even want to. You’re all the woman I can handle.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I imagine you guys would freak out if your women got the same level of attention you do. I mean, look at Mary, she’s absolutely gorgeous. Full-stop beautiful. I bet if men touched her the way women touch Damien, he’d flip his lid.”

  “Well, of course!”

  She gave him a raised brow. “On the way from the front of the store to here, a woman walked close enough to you to brush her entire body against yours. There was plenty of room in the aisle for her to pass without touching you. And you’re here with me. Jeez.”

  “I’m sorry.” He was sorry she was bothered, but he couldn’t help but want to preen that she’d expressed some level of possessiveness over him. It felt like a victory to him.

  “Meh. It’s okay. I get it. Maybe if I was another person, I’d rub all over you, too. You’re pretty rubbable.”

  He leaned in, his lips against her ear. “You just rubbed against me a few hours ago.”

  She blushed hard. “Quit it. Rogue.”

  “That’s me, baby. Rogue. Rebel.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops exaggeratedly.

  “Come on, then, Pirate Paddy, we need to get all this back to Mary. I’m starving.”

  They headed to the checkout lanes. This time he pushed the cart so that he’d be out of prime random-women-rubbing-against-him space.

  Once they got to his car, and he unloaded the bags into the trunk, he heard someone call her name.

  She cursed but didn’t turn. “Let’s go.

  “Someone is calling you.”

  “I’m aware. Just ignore him and unlock the door.”

  “Are you afraid? Has that dude hurt you in some way?”

  The guy reached them. He was in his fifties, though the lines on his face indicated he’d lived hard. His hair was thinning but he had it in a ponytail in the back like a lot of guys his age who tried to hold on to how old they were a decade or two before. He had a soul patch and wore tinted glasses and a diamond stud in his ear.

  “Natty, I’ve been looking for you. I was just stopping here to get some lunch.”

  “I told you to stop calling me that. Paddy, the door, please.”

  * * *

  HE HEARD THE tension in her tone and unlocked the door, opening it for her. “You need to tell me if I have to introduce this douchebag to my fist or not.”

  She shook her head. “No. I have it handled.” She looked around him to the guy. “Go. Away. I’ve been totally clear with you on this point.”

  He turned his attention from Natalie to Paddy. “Who are you, young man?”

  “I could ask you the same.”

  “I’m her father.”

  Natalie got between them, and Paddy didn’t like that at all.

  “Jesus. Shut up, Bob. Paddy, let’s go.”

  “How can you be so cold? I raised you, and this is the thanks I get? Your mother ran off, maybe you’re like her.”

  Paddy spun at the calculation in the man’s voice and the intake of her breath in response. His hands were already in fists as he stepped around her and toward the asshole.

  She touched his arm. “No. Patrick, I’m not kidding. Get in the car. Don’t engage with him. That’s what he wants. Please. For me.”

  It was the way she called him by his full name and the pain in her plea that finally enabled him to unlock his muscles and get in the car. She hit the locks.

  “Drive before he can get in his car and follow.”

  He blew out a breath but obeyed. They were both silent on the way back to the ranch. Paddy made sure no one was behind him when he took the main road up the hill and then the main drive to the house. At the main gates, he used the code and then made sure the security was set. He’d need to tell his parents so they didn’t go setting it off when they came and went.

  “Even if he found us, he can’t get in,” he reassured her.

  She nodded, looking out the window.

  He drove to his place. “It’s cold enough. The stuff will keep while you tell me what the hell just happened. Do we need to call the cops?”

  “So that’s my biological father, which you probably guessed. Every three years or so, he gets clean for a while. And then he goes NA and AA and he gets to the make-your-amends point. For many people in recovery, this is the poi
nt where they have to own their shit and work on rebuilding relationships they’ve destroyed while they were using. It’s hard, I get that and so the first time—God, that was when I was fifteen or so—I wanted him to be different. I wanted him to be healthy. So it wasn’t a perfect apology, but I just wanted him to get himself straight. Five months later, he and one of his girlfriends overdosed in the living room. That’s when he added oxycodone to the mix of his addiction.”

  Paddy took her hand, squeezing it.

  “It got really bad. So bad I moved out when I was seventeen. I entertained trying to find my mom, but he didn’t lie about that. She did run off. Occasionally, a card would arrive from her with no return address. Mailed from all over the southwestern U.S. So I worked a bunch of shitty jobs around my school schedule and getting high. He was an excellent example so when I needed to be up to work and go to school, too, I used speed to get through.

  “He got clean again. About six months before I moved to Portland and managed to get into college. That time lasted about four months. Pretty much it was the same pattern. I wanted to believe him, I let him back into my life and he wasn’t there when he’d asked me to come up to my grandparents’ at Thanksgiving.”

  “Christ.”

  “So I had contact with my grandparents and he found where I was going to school through them. He showed up when I was in my third year. I’d gotten my life together. I had a job, and I had friends, and I was doing really well in school. By that point, I was healthy enough that I could see and hear all the cracks in his facade. I wanted him to do well, but I had to keep him back. Letting him get close hurt too much. I kept communication with him, but eventually, after all the calls at two in the morning when he was high and needed me to talk him through stuff the same as I had over and over, I just changed my number and told him to leave me alone.”

  “So he just turned up again?”

  “He showed up the day we got into the fight at the winery.”

  “What? Damn it, why didn’t you tell me? Why don’t you trust me more?”

  “Because you were stumbling drunk, and it pushed all my growing-up-with-a-stumbling-drunk-asshole-as-a-parent buttons.”