FRAUD: An Unfit Hero Novel Page 5

I snort. “Let’s just go.”

  “Girl, you’re smokin’,” Channing announces.

  Shaking my head, I take a step toward them. Laurie has already changed into a coral lace tube top and a white stretchy, short skirt. She has also put her hair up into a quick, but beautiful updo so that the world will focus on her gorgeous curves and not her hair.

  I wish that I were more like her. I wish that I could confidently wear what she does, head held high and not giving a flip what the world thinks about her.

  I’m not like that though. I’m Hutton Baker, I’m so shy that this dress makes my stomach ache. Just the thought of wearing it out in public makes me want to throw up and hide. There is a reason I stay home, why I don’t go out and date. I’m painfully shy, and stuff like this, it just makes me feel sick.

  “Maybe I should just go home…”

  “Oh no,” Channing speaks up. She reaches for my hand, taking it in hers and squeezing. “It will be fun. We have your back.”

  “But this dress…”

  “Is stunning on you,” Exeter announces.

  Without another word, the three of them whisk me out of the door toward Exeter’s car. She has a newer compact SUV. It’s cute as can be, and the four of us fit perfectly inside. Exeter and Channing sit up front and Laurie and I sit in the back.

  Laurie reaches for my hand as soon as we strap ourselves in with the seatbelts. She squeezes my fingers, and that’s how we stay until we arrive at the venue. Her silent show of support, this is one of the reasons that I love her, that and usually she doesn’t push me too hard to do something.

  Usually.

  Chapter Five

  BEAUMONT

  “Where’re the girls?” I ask, looking between Louis, Rylan, Ford, and Wyatt.

  Rylan grins and looks down at his dirty work boots, but Wyatt is the first to speak. “They got their hair done, used those extra tickets, and are bringing a couple friends,” he explains.

  “Not that crazy fuckin’ cousin of Exeter’s?”

  Wyatt snorts, shaking his head. “You missed a hell of a lot, man. She and Robby are datin’,” he explains.

  My eyes widen and I think about Sheriff Robby, the brother of the woman who fucking ruined me and fucked up my insides. Fucked up any chance that I have at finding and holding onto a good woman.

  No, that’s not true.

  I found a good one, I just couldn’t keep her. Didn’t trust her, or myself, enough to even try. I don’t respond to the news of Robby and Emily dating. I don’t know enough about either of them to make a comment, but fuck, that sounds like a goddamn disaster.

  “They’re really good together, surprisingly enough,” Wyatt explains.

  I nod, looking down at my own boots. I refused styling for this show, for this entire tour. Which right now, I’m wondering if that was a good idea or not. Usually, I have a whole wardrobe to choose from, it stays with me throughout an entire tour so that each show is cohesive to my style at the moment.

  My style.

  What a joke.

  Not my style—the label’s style.

  Tonight, I’m wearing my dirty boots, my regular everyday jeans which have a few worn holes in them. I threw on a clean navy blue V-neck t-shirt and my hair, I just ran my fingers through it after I showered. I still need a fucking cut, but that’s not really a priority for me.

  “This is the look for the new show?” Louis asks, dipping his chin.

  He gets this shit more than the rest of the guys, because he has to go through the same bullshit when he’s visiting radio stations, giving interviews, and in the spotlight before and after a big fight.

  “I decided recovering-struggling-to-hold-on-alcoholic was as good as I could muster,” I grunt.

  “Could have at least combed your fuckin’ beard,” he points out.

  I shrug, not giving much of a fuck about my beard, or anything else. I’m going to be damn lucky if I can even finish the set. I also have a new song that I wrote last week and for whatever stupid as shit reason, I’m going to debut it tonight, live and streaming, to thousands of people watching from home.

  Rylan chuckles and I turn to look at him. “Girls are just pulling in. Their friends don’t know who’s playing. They’re going to be at the bar waiting for us,” he says, turning toward Wyatt.

  “We’ll see you after?” Ford asks.

  He’s been pretty quiet this entire time, even at the dinner I went to with everyone the other night, Ford didn’t say a whole lot. Granted, he’s not a guy who really does say much, but it still feels like he’s being purposely quiet.

  “Ford,” I call out as soon as they all turn around to leave.

  He pauses, looking over his shoulder at me. “Talk to you for a minute?” I ask.

  Ford lifts his chin, then turns around to face me. I watch the other men walk away, leaving us alone as he crosses his arms over his chest. Inhaling a deep breath, I let it out as I lift my gaze to meet his.

  “We cool?” I ask.

  I watch as he tilts his head to the side, his eyes roaming over my face as his mind works. I can practically see the wheels turning before he shakes his head once.

  “Pissed off at you, Beau,” he states. Nodding, I close my eyes in a slow blink. “But probably not for the reasons you’re thinkin’,” he continues.

  I open my eyes as my brows furrow together. “Why are you mad, then?” I ask when he doesn’t elaborate.

  “You hid all this shit from us. We’re your family,” he grinds out.

  I blink. He’s not wrong. I did hide it from them. “I did and you are,” I agree, confused as fuck as to why he’s so mad about that.

  “Family is there for one another, Beaumont. We could have helped you,” he says.

  My lips twitch. Reaching forward, I wrap my fingers around his shoulder and give him a squeeze before I shake him once.

  “Nobody could have helped me, Ford. Not until I was ready to help myself.”

  “Don’t matter, we should have known,” he barks.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t in a good place. I haven’t been for a long time.”

  “This still about Chelle?” he asks.

  Shaking my head, I lift my hand and run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends. I want to tell him that it isn’t, and really it isn’t, but she’s the underlying reason for half the shit that has gone wrong and right in my life.

  Without her leaving me, I wouldn’t have dove into my career the way that I did and I probably wouldn’t have ever been discovered. Then again, maybe I would have found a good woman, maybe I would have kept the good woman that I had and would have been living happily ever after in a little house in town like Wyatt and Rylan. Who the fuck knows?

  “She’s not the reason that I drink, no. It’s a combination of things. As fucking pussy as it sounds, it starts with my mom. It’s been a decade when it comes to Chelle and I should be over that shit.”

  “Been longer since your mama vanished. Are you over Chelle, ’cause you certainly ain’t over your mother?” he asks.

  Moving my hand to the back of my neck, I massage myself gently, releasing tension that’s formed. “I’m over Chelle. If she walked into this room, I wouldn’t want her back. But I’m not over what she did to me. What either of them did to me. I’m working through it though and I’m getting there.”

  “Good.” He nods.

  “What about you, Ford? How are you doin’?”

  “With what?” he asks.

  My lips twitch into a small smile. “Been a decade since you saw the infamous Sterling LaRue,” I point out.

  His lips turn down into a frown. “We ain’t talkin’ about me.”

  I snort. “Seems like maybe we should?”

  “See you out there, fucker,” he snaps.

  Laughing, I watch him walk away. He lifts his hand and flips me off before he turns a corner. It’s a sore spot for him, just like Chelle is for me, Sammi is for Wyatt and apparently Tulip is for Louis.

  Maybe we’re all f
ucking lost in this world, trying to get over the aching hurts of our pasts.

  If Wyatt can forgive and move on, then maybe there is hope for the rest of us too? Or maybe he’s just one of the lucky ones.

  Fuck if I know.

  HUTTON

  “You need some liquid courage,” Laurie shouts over the loud music.

  The secret band hasn’t started, but the room is being pumped up with loud rock music. There are people dancing, drinking, and shouting all over the place. It’s boobs to butts, bodies are everywhere and the entire place is making me extremely anxious.

  “No, thank you,” I say, wrinkling my nose.

  Channing looks to me, then Laurie, then back to me. “Do you not drink?” she asks, bringing her water to her lips and taking a sip.

  I shake my head. “No. My parents drank a lot,” I admit.

  She nods, eyeing me sympathetically. “I have friends who have gone through the same,” she explains, her gaze shifting from me to Exeter, then back to me. I lower my lashes, then bring my gaze back up to meet hers.

  “My grandparents raised me for the most part, as much as they could anyway,” I admit.

  She grins. “Which is why you visit your PawPaw often?” she guesses.

  My lips twitch into a small smile at just the mention of my grandfather. I nod my head. “He’s one of my best friends. I like to visit him, take care of what needs to be taken care of. He can live on his own for the most part, but he needs a little help cleaning and he’s lonely.”

  “That’s sweet,” she says and I can tell that she means it.

  I don’t tell her that my cousins pop by and visit him too, but none of them will lift a dustpan or broom. Only one of the boys mows his yard once a month, other than that, they stop by but only for a few minutes at a time.

  “Exeter’s MawMaw just moved into part of an assisted living community. She’s been having a blast,” she says.

  The conversation dies when Rylan appears. His hand slides around Channing’s waist and I watch as his lips touch the side of her neck. The move is intimate and I tear my gaze away, deciding that I feel too much like a creep to watch them greet one another.

  “You remember Hutton from the other day?” she calls.

  Returning my gaze to them, I smile as Rylan’s lips turn up into a cocky smirk of his own. “I do.” He grins. “You ready for the show?” he asks, his brown eyes almost sparkling.

  I shake my head, biting the corner of my lip. “I almost didn’t come,” I admit.

  He frowns, then looks down to Channing. I watch as she whispers to him, I assume to tell him about my clothing debacle. Shifting my gaze from them, I find Exeter and Laurie who are talking to Wyatt and two other men. I recognize one as Ford Matthews and my face heats.

  Ford’s eyes find mine. Recognition flutters over his features and I watch as his lips tip up into a sideways smile.

  Oh God, how embarrassing.

  Turning my back to him, I notice that Channing and Rylan are both watching, their gazes flicking from Ford to me, and back again. Channing frowns as I feel Ford’s presence at my side. His palm presses against my lower back and I turn slightly, tipping my head back to look up at him.

  “Hey, Ford,” I say with a fake smile plastered on my lips.

  He grins, though his is genuine. “Hey, Hutton, how you doin’, honey?” he asks.

  Channing clears her throat, and then I hear Rylan’s deep voice murmuring something in the background as I continue to look up at Ford.

  “I’m good, how about you?” I ask, attempting to keep my face from turning bright red, but I already know that it is.

  “Good. You’re here with Channing and Exeter?” he asks, his smile fading and a small frown appearing on his face.

  I nod, opening my mouth to ask why when an announcer begins to speak over the loudspeakers cutting me off. I’m thankful for the person who appears on stage and begins to talk about the concert that is about to take place. I can’t hear their words, it sounds like a bunch of white noise.

  Honest to God, I’m just trying not to die of embarrassment right now. Six years ago, I met Ford at one of the dance halls with Laurie. She forced me to go out for her birthday. Thankfully, it was her final attempt at having a normal friend.

  The dance hall was fun, until the line dancing, and girl group dancing ended. Later in the evening all of the men appeared and several of Laurie’s friends went off with their men for the night. Laurie found someone, and that’s when Ford slid in next to me at the bar while I was ordering a water.

  I can’t even use the excuse that I was drunk, I wasn’t. Ford probably was. We talked for what felt like hours. I knew of him, knew of the Matthews ranch out in the country, knew he was a few years older than me.

  We left together, went back to his place and then I freaked the fuck out. I cried because he wasn’t Beaumont. I told him that I’d only ever been with one other guy aside from Beau and it was a complete disaster.

  Basically, I scared him shitless.

  He got this really funny look on his face when I told him that after three years, I was still hopelessly in love with Beau, that I tried casual sex once and it didn’t work for me. Then I told him that I wanted a real relationship, and if that didn’t scare him off, I told him that I wanted marriage and children.

  Without so much as a, have a nice night, he drove me home. Granted, he was pretty sweet the entire time, even if he looked spooked and terrified. He actually walked me to my door and when we were on my doorstep, he cupped my cheek, looked into my eyes and told me that Beaumont didn’t deserve me.

  That’s my Ford Matthews story and now he’s standing next to me, six years later with his hand pressed against the small of my back and I feel absolutely nothing.

  He’s gorgeous, tall, built like a man who does manual labor, strong and sturdy. He’s wearing a ballcap, worn jeans and a pearl snap shirt that’s tucked in with a leather belt that has a round belt buckle with the letter M engraved in the center.

  He’s every country girl’s dream, his calloused hand is warm and I feel nothing. Absolutely, nothing. Then the announcer says something that makes everyone scream. Lifting my gaze to the stage, my entire body freezes and the air leaves my lungs as a man walks up to the microphone.

  “Hey Gallup, damn, it feels so good to be home.”

  Chapter Six

  BEAUMONT

  The crowd screams, the noise and vibration filling me from the inside out and soothing my scarred soul. My team, the label, my manager, they wanted this for the money, but I needed it to heal myself from the inside out.

  Fuck, did I need this.

  All of my fears melt away with the first slam of Austin’s drum stick, the first chord from Jesse, my bassist. I grin into the crowd, the light too bright for me to see much detail, but I do spot my friends in the back, near the bar, instantly.

  Lifting my hand, I wave toward them as the band begins to play the opening number.

  My fingers move against my guitar strings as I shift forward toward the microphone. Closing my eyes, I begin to sing the opening lyrics, letting the music flow as my fingers work my guitar.

  Once the first song is finished, I wrap my hand around the handle of the mic and scan the crowd until I find my friends again.

  “I’m happy as hell to be back here, back home. The past few months have been rough, but I feel really fuckin’ good now. How are y’all doin’?” I ask.

  The crowd erupts and I can’t help but chuckle. “I got a whole set of friends to support me tonight. Can y’all shine the light over on my friends?” I ask, lifting my chin toward their group.

  As soon as the light hits them, my stomach clenches. There, standing next to Ford, is the one woman I thought that I would never see again.

  Hutton Baker’s green eyes find mine and I don’t miss the slash of pain that crosses over her face. It’s been nine years, but walking away from her feels like yesterday when my eyes meet hers.

  I don’t know how she ended up
with them, but I can’t show a reaction, at least not yet. I narrow my gaze on Ford as I continue on with the set. He gives me a shit-eating grin, which makes me believe that he knows exactly who Hutton is to me, what she meant to me, as he stands next to her, touching her.

  Once my encore is completed, I lift my hand, tossing my guitar pick into the crowd before telling them goodnight and heading backstage. I’m completely drenched in sweat, from head to toe, my guitar feeling like a hundred-pound weight as I tug it off of my body and place it in its holder for a roadie to safely tuck away for me to use at the next gig.

  Growling, I run my fingers through my wet hair, imagining all of the ways that I’m going to strangle one of my best friends. He stayed glued to Hutton’s side the entire time. And Hutton. Fucking shit, she looked good enough to eat, then fuck, then eat a few more times, then fuck again.

  She no longer looks like the young woman I once knew. She’s filled out, her body rounding where it counts, her curves goddamn mouthwatering. Those green eyes are the same, though, soul-crushing and full of naivete.

  Once I walk into the dressing room, I strip my shirt off and pull on a clean and dry one.

  “Well, tell us, how does he compare to the past, Hutt?” a stranger’s voice asks.

  Spinning around, I frown when I see that my room is full of everyone I love, and a few extras. Channing, Exeter, Louis, Wyatt, Rylan, Hutton, this strange girl, and then the man I’m going to kill, Ford.

  Hutton doesn’t speak, her eyes are focused on me and only me. She looks like she’s about two seconds away from bursting into tears. She shakes her head and tries to take a step back, but Ford doesn’t let her.

  If he isn’t careful, he’s going to be a rancher down a goddamn hand—his own.

  “Maybe we should all call it a night, meet up for dinner tomorrow?” Exeter suggests, obviously sensing the extreme tension in the room.

  The strange girl steps toward me, her head tilting to the side before she lifts a bottle of beer to her lips and takes a pull. It doesn’t entice me. Beer is like water. It’s whiskey that I drank in abundance. It’s whiskey that I wish I had right now.